#and the eggs stay dormant

[teecupangel]

Do we have a Phonenix yet in the menagire? We need one.

Phoenix!Desmond, probably looking like a normal bird for the most part, and stays with Sef when they go after the mongols (Altair probably thinks he's getting too old he looked a bit ratty lately) and takes the hit when Swami tries to kill him.

Idk whether to have this crack or angest with them thinking Desmond died, had a chick, and was apparently a female bird the entire time.

Okay, so I was checking the Phoenix wiki page for any information if it would be possible that Altaïr would know what a phoenix is and there’s this part written by Herodotus (yes, Kassandra’s Herodotos)

[The Egyptians] have also another sacred bird called the phoenix which I myself have never seen, except in pictures. Indeed it is a great rarity, even in Egypt, only coming there (according to the accounts of the people of Heliopolis) once in five hundred years, when the old phoenix dies. Its size and appearance, if it is like the pictures, are as follow: The plumage is partly red, partly golden, while the general make and size are almost exactly that of the eagle. They tell a story of what this bird does, which does not seem to me to be credible: that he comes all the way from Arabia, and brings the parent bird, all plastered over with myrrh, to the temple of the Sun, and there buries the body.

… which may be a reference to Bennu, the Egyptian deity connected to the sun, creation, and rebirth.

So Altaïr would meet him during his travels with Maria and he just stays. They assume he’s an exotic bird (or eagle), maybe a native to one of the places Altaïr and Maria visited.

Altaïr never told them that the bird flew into his room one night and began to chirp at him as if trying to tell him something. He also tried to tap the Apple but all it did was glow a bit.

The bird had been quite annoyed by it and began to hit it with his talons so quickly the Apple had a taptaptaptaptap sound rapidly before Altaïr could take the Apple.

After that, the bird just decided to sit on Altaïr’s shoulder when he left his room the following morning and Maria assumed he had bought the bird yesterday when they went their separate ways.

Her guess sounded so much better than the truth which was Altaïr spent the entire day yesterday holed up in his room, writing letters to be sent back to Masyaf as part of his deal with Malik in exchange for letting him go on this trip (which was to send letters detailing the geopolitical situations of the places he travels to with suggestion on what the Brotherhood should do in those parts… if they could do anything).

So nobody ever questioned the mentor’s newly acquired bird (except Malik but Malik had been more focused on the ex-Templar that Altaïr brought to Masyaf and married).

Then Darim and Sef were born and the bird (named Desmond because Altaïr thought of the name first when Maria asked what the bird’s name was) usually stayed with the children, letting out loud screeching cries whenever one of the two children were doing something they shouldn’t do.

When they got older, Darim and Sef learned the word ‘bribe’ and how Desmond can be easily bribed to look the other way in favor of delicious food.

Desmond stayed in Masyaf though, regardless if Altaïr or any of his sons left for a mission or to travel to a bureau. At some point, the bird had become a symbol of Brotherhood with its gold and red plumage.

So when Altaïr left with Maria and Darim to take down Genghis Khan, it was only natural for Desmond to stay with Sef in Masyaf.

Altaïr had been a bit conflicted though as Desmond’s feathers had grown quite… dull and he was moving slower than usual.

Maria and Malik both told them that Desmond was growing old and maybe it was time but the Ibn-La'Ahad boys refused to believe that.

Darim also believed that they might find medicine in one of the camps of the Mongols as they have been to many lands.

So when Desmond flew to protect Sef and got stabbed on the chest by Swami, Swami screamed as Desmond became shrouded in flames.

Swami burned as well and Sef could only watch in horror as white hot flames consumed the both of them.

Swami was left as a corpse charred beyond recognition.

While Desmond…

Only ashes remained…

And from those ashes…

Sef heard a small chirp.

As a little chick with red and gold plumage poked his head out of the ashes, shaking the ash from his small body.

Sef could only stare as he asked, “Desmond?”

And the bird gave him an enthusiastic chirp while jumping.

[crevicedwelling]

I used to be sad all winter long since the pretty bugs of summer die off or only exist as eggs, dormant pupae, or slumbering adults… but with my camera I can now appreciate the little bugs that stay active even through the cold!

a bouquet of mites—if you have never taken time to appreciate mites, you are missing out.

springtails are classic charismatic mesofauna, with the cute globulars being a staple of the cool season, but I also saw some entomobryomorphs and a neelid just a fraction of a millimeter long!

isopods & myriapods next

[naul-lidge]

ahh..

[trulyumai]

care for me?

pairing: Messmer the Impaler / Wife! Reader

synopsis: exhausted, you try to stay up for the arrival of your husband. only he doesn’t come back the same man.

wk: 1.1k

warnings: mention of death, violence. mostly fluff

A/N: EJ come, water! (no seriously enjoy Messmer lovers) this was a request, thank you for the suggestion anonymous!

Enjoy!

It was so cold.

Dreary winds busted across the little home, invading the shack with freezing temperatures that nipped at one’s bones.

The girl of said residence could not battle such a feat alone; so she lay bundled up in many cottons and wools that cascaded her form just in front of the fire pit.

With her teeth clanking together, she drew in a particular large blanket that seemed to swallow her whole being.

She was trying— attempting, to stay away for her husbands arrival.

“He— he will be here soon,” giving herself words of comfort, little fingers smoothed over the skin of her arm.

Back and forth they went, seeking any form of warmth they could gather.

But, she was getting tired. It had been hours since his departure.

So, with a defeated huff, her lashes fluttered.

Eyes now shut, her form slumped against the wooden boards.

Maybe she could greet her doting husband upon the fields of dreams

Everything went wrong.

His mother… his own mother…

A cry, weak and low left Messmers lips as he shuddered in pain—agony.

Instead of telling the citizens, the people what had been done of the shadow lands of between, his mother lied.

She blamed the knight of flames for his part in the destruction. Blamed him for the plans, the deaths, the innocent lives gone—

“O, Mother!” Just outside the home, Messmer sat. His head tilted towards the ground in shame as his long nails twisted and pulled at his cheeks.

Blood seeped down almost instantly, yet he couldn’t find the energy to care.

Tears streamed down his face in waves, meeting the bloody patches along the way.

His nails tore and scratched at any skin that came in contact, only making his wounds worse.

“Does thou… not perceive mine own consciousness?” A yellowed Iris glanced forth upon the house.

His home.

Only now realizing he made it back, a shudder ran through him.

“Wife,” he whimpered. “Please… forgive me.”

Only the sound of wind greeted his ears, as his now bloody and weakened form pushed against the stone. Slowly making his way to the wooden door merely a foot away.

The flowers lay dormant, the fields around him lay bare and dead. Much like the lands he left behind his wake.

With bodies, upon bodies—

“Augh! No more!” With a slam, the door receded against his strength, banging out against the wall behind.

The ball of blankets jumped up in surprise, a head peeked out from the warm egg shaped cocoon the girl placed herself in.

Messmers eyes softened upon such a sight, he couldn’t help but let out a little smile seeing the girls attempt to warm herself.

“little wife,” he called. Already on his way to the girl sitting about the floor.

“husband!” she cried, reaching out her hands to signal for the man’s embrace.

He gladly accepted, sweeping her into his arms and cradling her head soothingly.

“I’ve missed you,” little sweet kisses dotted across his neck, to his jaw and up the face.

“What— what happened?” Her lips met with a red and open wound, to which the flame winced at.

He had forgotten about such a display.

“It’s nothing, dear wife,” big palms rubbed along her sides. “an accident, nothing more.”

Fear began to corrode his mind, it crumbled and tore at the seams of sanity.

People will come for him.

For his betrayal, his slaughter.

His wife— gods what has he done?

A hand pulled him back, it was soft and careful as it cradled the man’s left cheek.

“It’s okay,”

She didn’t know what was wrong, only that something was amiss.

For the man was troubled, that much was clear.

“I… listen closely, my heart.” Setting her upon the ground he looked down at her form, so much smaller than his own.

His back had to bend uncomfortably to meet her gaze but he ignored such pain.

Big palms surrounded her face, angling her eyes to meet with his.

“We need to go, does thou need anything before our leave?”

“Leave?” She shrieked. “This is our home… why would we leave so—���

“Please, please wife understand me so. I cannot dote on such a matter yet but please.” A desperate yellowed eye looked upon both of hers

“I will protect thee. With mine own blade, with mine own body. But we need to leave, most ardently”

Confused and somewhat scared, the girl could do nothing but nod her head. Even when he placed a mirage of kisses upon her, she did nothing but look upon the man.

Almost as if to study him— understand him.

Soon, she was lightly pushed into the direction of their room.

“Grab what thy can carry and need.” Messmer had said.

So she did.

She grabbed her favorite blanket, the one that had been with her since birth.

She grabbed her jewelry box that lay full of gifts from the knight.

And finally, she grabbed the last vials of homemade oils. Lavender scented, which always seemed to calm her husband down whenever it graced her soft skin.

Seeing his wife’s hands full, Messmer acted. Gently picking her up, the objects shifted about as a bridal style posture was given upon her.

Head now bumping with his armor with every movement, she decided to speak.

“Are you alright, husband?”

This was an opening.

A pristine opportunity to tell her of his forthcomings.

Of his tidings with his mother.

Of the burning lands.

Even of the soon to be castle that will be there home for god knows how long.

Messmer only looked down, peacefully admiring his wife so.

“Everything will be fine, my wife. Thou can sleep while the travel begins.”

He was a coward. Biting down upon his cheeks blood ran across his tongue, to the back of his throat.

Past all the lies and short comings, two thing stay true; he adored his wife

and he would do anything to protect her.

[angel-eyes05]

a spider in the snow

pairing: fem!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: you help rehabilitate an injured miguel after he returns from one of his late night patrols…in more ways than one

warnings: nsfw, fluff then smut then fluff, handjob (both m and f recieving), blood mention, an incy wincy tincy bit of angst

word count: 2.5k

notes: heyyyyy i've come back from the dead. i don't really write a lot of one shots so go easy on me for this one. just like every horny person on the internet, i’ve fallen head over heels in love with miguel o’hara. this is me giving into my impulses lmao. sorry if i do anything thats out of character idk him that well so just work with me here. i also don't know everything about nueva york and if names are different than here or something so im just gonna pretend they’re the same. if they are, great! if not, just go with it lmao. one more thing, despite being cuban i am a no sabo kid (rip me) so i had to use a translator for some of this so apologies in advance if some things aren't super accurate. ok lets get on with the show.

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Snowy nights in Nueva York have always been one of your favorite parts about moving up north. Seeing all the lit up buildings illuminated in the snow, all the people ice skating in Rockefeller Center rink just below your apartment window, the reminders of Christmas coming soon. It kept your heart warm against the freezing temperatures outside. You also loved the feeling of being able to bundle yourself up in blankets and hoodies, a mix of yours and your boyfriend’s, having an excuse to make hot chocolate, and finally being able to use the fireplace that normally laid dormant in the middle of your living room. The one con about the snow was when it would land on Miguel’s patrol nights. Your already nervous mind was only heightened by the added uncertainty of everything that could happen while he was out there. What if he got too cold while out there and it affected his ability to fight? What if it started snowing too hard and he wouldn’t be able to find his way back to the apartment? You knew some of your concerns were probably dumb, but they felt serious to you. 

This was one of those nights. One of the nights where you would sit on your couch, next to the cracked window, unable to sleep until you could see him come back safe. You flipped through the channels of the tv aimlessly, trying to find something to keep your mind off of the growing cold outside. You eventually turn it off after coming across the weather channel, claiming a snowstorm would be rolling into the city in about 15 minutes. Deciding there was nothing you could do about your situation, you walked over to your bedroom and wrapped yourself in your massive duvet to shield from the cold. Worries dashed around your mind about everything that could happen. Despite being verbally supportive about Miguel and his…hobbies, you really hated the idea of him sneaking out in basically pajamas almost every night to “beat up the bad guys” essentially. Even though he had explained everything to you by this point, having been dating for about three years now, you still couldn’t quite understand everything. Radioactive spiders? Corrupt businesses? Fangs and claws? Mutations? A multiverse? It was a lot to wrap your head around. But, despite all of this, all of your worries and concerns over Miguel, you stayed. Because you knew you didn’t start dating him because of his whole superhero business or whatever. You were dating him because you loved him. The real him. The way he would always press gentle kisses into the crook of your neck. How on his days off, you would be woken up to the smell of eggs and bacon cooking in the kitchen just for you. How he would always whisper sweet praises to you while you would give him head. How easily he could be crumbled down beneath his rock hard exterior. The Miguel underneath the red and blue spandex. You dreamt of this as you slowly fell into a calm slumber. You fell asleep bundled up in all the blankets on your bed, arm outstretched to the opposite side the bed, almost as if you were reaching for something that wasn’t there. 

After some time had passed, you’re not sure exactly how much, you were awoken by a thud coming from your bathroom. You lazily rubbed your eyes and grabbed your alarm clock to check the time. 3:47 am. Yeah, that’s definitely Miguel in there. You dragged yourself out of bed to help him out, throwing one of this hoodies over your tank top for extra warmth. You also liked how it still smelled like him after three times in the wash. You opened the door, eyes squinting from the bright fluorescent light. And there he was. You found it endearing. How Miguel was trying, and failing, to reach this massive scratch on his back to clean it instead of just waking you up to ask for your help. You look to the floor to find a bottle of hydrogen peroxide sitting there on the rug, probably what caused the thudding sound. You stood there leaning in the doorframe, waiting for him to notice you, even though he probably already heard every step you’ve taken from the bed up to the door now. “You need any help there?” you ask him, jokingly. You had seen him in much worse conditions, so you took moments like these to be more comedic, an attempt to lighten his mood sort of. It didn’t usually work. “No, I got it. Please go back to sleep,” he said, still attempting to wrap his arms around himself. You rolled your eyes and walked over to sit behind him, picking up the hydrogen peroxide off the floor and grabbing a couple of cotton balls from the first aid basket. “Mi amor, please go back to sleep, I promise I can do this by myself,” he argued. Before he could get another word in, you poured some of the hydrogen peroxide over his wound. He groaned in response and squeezed your thigh to help level out the pain. “That’s for worrying me all night,” you said to him, just over the volume of a whisper. As you began to dab the blood off of his cut, he responded. “You know I don’t want you to worry.” Once you could see he was turning his head around to look at you, you turned your eyes away. You didn’t really want to look at him right now. It’s not that you were mad at him. Ok that’s a lie, you were a little mad. But it was more of a helplessness you felt when you would see him like this. Beat up, cut, scratched, bruised. And there wasn’t anything you could do to help. Not until after at least. And it wasn’t like you were a trained nurse or anything. You dreaded the day that he would come stumbling through the window, too injured for you to take care of yourself. Or worse. The day he wouldn’t come home at all. “Yeah, well that doesn’t mean I don’t,” you said sort of coldly. You stood up from your position, waiting to patch up his back until after he showered. You changed your positions to sit from behind him to in front, ready to take care of his front side now. “I don’t want to talk about that right now tho-.” You cut yourself off when you finally saw his face

Cuts were scattered across his face, one above his eyebrow still dripping blood catching your attention first. He also had a bruise quickly forming on his left cheekbone. Once you moved your eyes more, you saw his nose marked with a deep cut going through the middle. His beautiful nose. It was one of your favorite parts of his appearance. Done scanning his face, your eyes moved down to his chest and his torso. His chest was marked with similar cuts to the one on his back. You kept your eyes on his chest in an attempt to hide the fact you were holding back tears right now. “I’m sorry mi cariño. I really am.” You knew he was. But sorry wasn’t going to keep him safe. This was one apology among many. It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t sorry for getting hurt again and again and again. He was sorry for the fact you had to see him like this. If you wouldn’t have seen that he was injured, he wouldn’t have said anything And you knew after this apology as well, he would go out tomorrow night and do the same thing over again. You didn’t respond to his words. All you could manage to do was pull him into an embrace and apologize when he winced from your hands hitting his cuts. You sat there for a bit, running your hands through his hair and trying to hold yourself back from crying. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted gentle kisses there, each a little apology from him. Once you finally pulled away and wiped your face, you started to clean the scrapes on his face, this time more gentle than his back. You dabbed the cotton ball on his forehead as he held you straddled on his lap. He admired your features as you concentrated on him, rubbing your back with his fingers in the process. You didn’t say much, only a simple “sorry” if you were a little too rough with cleaning. Despite the stern face you were putting on, Miguel knew you secretly liked the way he would grab at your thighs and hips with his claws when you did something that hurt.

Once you were finished, you silently put the first aid equipment away and left the bathroom so he could take a shower. He planted a soft kiss into your forehead before you left the room. Once you crawled back into bed, you sighed to yourself. How did you end up here anyways? There’s no way you were expecting all of this when you first saw Miguel at the concert bar that day. Some days were amazing with him. Others were much harder. And while you’ve definitely had worse days with him, today was leaning on the latter option. You contemplated all of this until you heard the door to the bathroom behind you open, Miguel stepping out of the steaming room with his towel wrapped around his lower body. You were very quickly reminded of one of the reasons you’ve stayed with him for so long. The way his wet curls were laying around his head. How his chest glistened while it was damp, despite currently being tattered with cuts at the current moment. He sleepily shuffled over to the bed, dropping his towel before crawling up close to you in bed. The warmth of Miguel’s freshly showered body against yours helped to melt the majority of your worries away. It also helped that you could feel his his cock getting harder against your leg while he cuddled against you. You finally turned around to face him, cupping his jaw in your hand and rubbing your thumb across his face. He grasped your hand and pressed soft kisses into it. “I love you so much Miggy,” you finally said, breaking the silence and drawing his eyes towards you. “I really do, and I’m sorry if I ever make it seem like I don’t. You just…you scare me sometimes.” You quickly realize those weren’t the words you meant. You begin to stutter and take back your words a bit, until you see that Miguel has given you his full attention. You take a deep breath and continue. “You don’t scare me. It’s more of what you do that scares me. I never know when you’re gonna come back or if you even are. If you think I take joy in taking care of you after you come back, I really don’t. I hate seeing my boy like this. And it makes me scared that one day you’re gonna come back in a shape I can’t fix. It scares me so bad Miggy you don’t even know,” you say, choking back your tears. Once Miguel notices you’re about to start crying, he wraps his arms around you immediately. “Shhh it’s ok preciosa,” he comforts as you quietly cry into his broad shoulders. “I’m so sorry for making you worry,” he says in between kissing the top of your head. “I promise I’ll make it up to you, and I love you too.” 

You pull away from his hug and stare into his beautiful crimson eyes as he wipes away your tears. You suddenly fall into the overwhelming urge to kiss him. He returns the kiss with even more passion than you put into it. You quickly found yourself exploring his body with your hands, moans escaping his lips whenever you would graze over one of his wounds. You drew yourself closer to him to absorb more of his body heat, though you were quickly reminded of his bare cock as you could feel it hardening on your leg. Your hands eventually made it down there, teasing Miguel along the way as you felt him up on the way down. You then took his hard, already wet cock into your hands, caressing every ridge you could find on it. You could hear more moans exit his mouth and slide into yours as you handled him like putty. He would let out messier sounds, even a growl at one point, and jerk forward into your hand when you would tease around his tip. “F-fuck baby. Y-you’re s-so good to me. ‘N pr-retty too,” he would blurb out Feeling his cock get increasingly hard in your hand began to make you slightly wet as well. This only increased as Miguel began to take off your underwear as well, sliding two of his fingers into your pussy and placing his thumb to draw circles onto your clit. Your grip on his length becomes lazy and sloppy as you’re stimulated as well. You’re surprised at how quickly Miguel is able to find your clit, but then again you expect him to know your body so well after three years. After both of you have been at it for a while, you’re the first one to get close to your orgasm. “Fuck M-Miggy, I-I’m gonna cum,” you manage to moan out. His kisses on you get sloppy as he reaches his as well. It’s over for you once he begins to put more pressure onto your core. You let out an inhuman noise as your stomach fills with the white heat of your orgasm, shaking your entire body. Miguel takes his fingers out of your entrance and licks your cum off of his fingers. It’s then over for him when you eventually put the pressure of your fingers onto his cock. You hand is then covered in his cum once he reaches his climax in your fist, moaning intensely into the air. While he’s in the middle of his orgasm, his claws pop out of his fingers and into your hips and underneath your thigh where his hands are placed. Then, he lets out his fangs and uses them to leave hickeys into your neck, making sure not to let out any of his poison while doing so. “Just stay here with me Miggy,” you sigh out, his fangs deep into your neck. “You don’t ever need to go back out there again. Just stay here with me forever.” He simply nods at first, still sucking into your neck. Once he lets go and and begins to calm down, he responds with “Forever and always mi corazón,” whispering the words into your ear as he lays more kisses along your collarbone and neck.

You stare outside the window at the falling snow, hoping this time he’ll keep his word, but knowing deep down that he wasn’t going to. But for now, you could just appreciate your time with him now. He was all yours right now. Everything. And that was enough.

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A/N: uhhhh sorry but i didn't feel like proofreading this cause its super late for me rn sorry not sorry lmao

[cressidagrey]

Indelible Scars - Chapter 2

Summary:

Azriel knew pain. So did Galena.

Also known as: Azriel’s mate is a healer and the first time they meet, he nearly dies on her.

Warnings:

Fainting, Irresponsible use of Sleeping Potions, Cassian POV, Rhys' bashing

(thanks to @cafekitsune for the super pretty dividers!)

The panic that clawed its way up Cassian‘s chest was potent . 

He could deal with it in a fight. Then the survival instincts kicked in and made him just that edge more deadly. 

But right now…right now, it had been a friendly sparring match. And then Azriel had dropped to his knees right in the middle of it and for just one second he had thought that it had just been typical Az…just him trying to get Cassian to drop his guard. 

But it hadn’t. The grabbing at his chest and gasping for breath and then falling over made that very obvious.

And so the panic was…another thing entirely. Because it wasn’t just Cassian’s skin on the line. 

*Rhys, get me Madja! Right now!* Cassian bellowed in his mind, sharply tugging at that dormant connection Rhys kept to all of them. 

*What happened?* Rhys mental touch came back immediately. 

*Don’t know, Az just keeled over,* h e shot back, already checking on his brother, opening the front of his fighting leathers, searching for injuries…but there was nothing . Some bruises on his chest but not bad enough to explain Azriel just… losing consciousness.

*I’ll get her,* Rhys promised immediately.

“Cassian?” Nes hit the floor next to him, kneeling on Azriel’s side, Azriel’s breathing coming in sharp gasps, a cough working its way down his throat…

Fuck, that didn’t sound good at all. 

“Azriel!” Cassian snapped sharply, lightly shaking his brother. 

Green eyes blinked open, hazy, unfocused…like Azriel wasn’t really there. Cassian cupped his brother’s face, feeling the sweat-drenched skin under his own, far hotter than it should be. 

“For Cauldron’s sake, Az!” Cassian hissed. “You’re burning up.” How long had this been going on? How long had Azriel run a fever and had still showed up for training and for work, because of course, he had. Azriel didn’t even know what a fucking break was, clearly. Even when he should. 

Azriel blinked, still unfocused. Another cough. “I am not feeling good,” Azriel choked out. 

Yeah, Cassian bet on that . His skin was hot enough to fry an egg on. “Oh really,” Cassian muttered under his breath, fingers pressing against Azriel’s pulse point, feeling his heartbeat thrumming under his skin. Far quicker than it should be. 

This wasn’t good either. 

Azriel’s eyes threatened to droop again. “No sleeping,” Cassian said sharply, shaking Azriel to get him to stay conscious, meeting Nesta’s worried grey gaze. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake.  He growled as he pulled Azriel upwards, “Come on, you big lug.” 

There was a single twitch of Azriel’s arm over his shoulder and then that was it. 

“I am going to bridal carry you out of her, don’t think I won’t,” Cassian warned him, hoping that it would annoy Az enough that he was going to move but he didn’t. 

So Cassian hefted him up for lack of a better option, Nests watching the whole thing with worried eyes. 

“Tired,” Az mumbled, his voice so quiet that Cassian wouldn’t have caught it if he wasn’t as close to him as he was right now.  

“Come on, stay awake, Az. Rhys is getting Madja,” Cassian promised him. They were going to get Madja, and it was all going to be fine.

Cassian wasn’t sure who he was assuring right now. 

“If you can hurry up, do it,”  he told Rhys mentally, getting a quick affirmation in response, as he dragged Azriel into the house and up to his room. 

He dumped Azriel on his bed for lack of a better option. Azriel’s room still looked as utterly impersonal as it ever had. There was nothing in there that spoke of his brother, which was just the way Azriel seemed to like it. The only thing that made it obvious that the room was even used was a stack of reports for Rhys on the desk and a couple of daggers on the same. 

Cassian was sure that Azriel had even more knives stashed away around the room, but there was seemingly nothing that…spoke of his brother other than that. 

He was careful of Azriel’s wings as he wrestled him out of his fighting leathers, though they were drooping, not even bothering to be closed completely. So unlike his brother.

“Come on, you could at least help me,” Cassian complained, trying to keep the worry out of his voice. He had never seen Az like this. Even during his worst injuries, he had been…well, either completely knocked out or still aware enough to…be conscious, to be there…to lift a hand or his wing and not just…lay there. Not even bothering to open his eyes as Cassian tried to get him out of his clothing. 

“jus…tired,” Azriel mumbled, the syllables bleeding into each other in a way… his voice sounding far, far away. 

“You literally folded together like a bad cardhouse out there, so I am not taking your word for that,” Cassian told him sharply, finally managing to get the top of him completely. Nesta seemingly materialised next to him at that moment, reaching out to hold Azriel up as Cassian freed him from his boots. 

“Can you hold him for a moment?” he asked her, but just before Nesta could even answer, Azriel was back to violently coughing, nearly tipping forward if Cassian’s mate hadn’t grasped him tighter, the two of them exchanging a glance. 

This wasn’t good. 

“How long have you had that cough?” Nesta asked Azriel sharply, managing to get him to blink blearily at her. 

“...weeks,” Az managed to bring out, sounding wheezing and halfway gone to unconscious once again. 

“Fuck, Az,” Cassian cursed. Weeks? How many fucking weeks? “You should have gone to see Madja.”

He hadn’t even finished saying that sentence as Azriel grew lax in Nesta’s grip. Like somebody had cut all the strings holding him upright and left him slumped against Nesta, who was holding him, one hand carefully carding through Azriel’s thick dark hair.  

Azriel was one of the few people whom Nesta wasn’t outright prickly to, one of the few people she doted on when she had the opportunity…And as Nesta’s gaze met his, Cassian could see the worry in it. 

“Cassian,” Nesta said quietly, but he just mutely shook his head, helping her to get Azriel on the bed. He didn’t have the words to assure his mate…not when he could still feel the terror crawling its way up his spine. 

*Where are you?* Rhys wanted to know at that moment. 

*Az’s room,* he responded immediately, staring at Azriel, mentally combing through the last few months, trying to come up with… something that…

He hadn’t even noticed that fucking cough over the last few weeks. 

Either Azriel had done a fucking phenomenal job hiding it or Cassian had been so busy with his own life that he had totally forgotten that his brother existed. 

Azriel had been turning quieter for months. Cassian hadn’t taken it seriously. He had just thought that…maybe Azriel felt like a third wheel in a family where everybody had a significant other and he didn’t… and so Cassian had tried to get Azriel to go out for a night, blow off some steam…and that had been it. 

He hadn’t even given it a second thought…he hadn’t…he had never even bothered to ask Azriel what was going on in his life. He had never even… 

But clearly…clearly it had gone much deeper than he had ever even thought about it. 

Just at that moment, Rhys and Madja finally arrived and something in Cassian’s chest eased, because thanks to the mother, he wasn’t alone with it anymore. 

“What happened?” Rhys asked him tightly, as they watched Madja start her usual diagnostics. 

“We were training and then he just…fainted. He coughed up a storm as well…said he just wanted to sleep,” Cassian said, his voice hoarse. “I have never seen  him like this, Rhys.” 

He had seen Azriel injured but never outright…sick like that. Maybe with a fever once upon a time, when they were still children…when Rhys’ mother had still been alive and she had taken care of them…but other than that…even then Azriel hadn’t been as out of it as he seemed to be these days. 

“He got a cold,” Madja finally said drily and Cassian just stared at her. 

What. 

“Are you serious?” he demanded, staring at Azriel lying still in that bed, his breathing still harsh in the quiet room. A cold? This wasn’t just a cold. This couldn’t just be a cold. That made no sense. How could they come up with only a cold and nothing else and…

“That’s all?” Nesta asked, sounding incredulous. 

At least Cassian wasn’t the only one who couldn’t believe that. 

“Yes,” Madja repeated. “Just a cold.”

“He has never fainted before from a simple cold,” Cassian said carefully. Madja had never steered them wrong before, she was centuries older than them and she knew what she was doing but…Azriel had never been sick like this . 

Madja snorted quietly, rearranged the blanket, and stretched taut over Azriel’s form. 

“He should have been resting, but he hasn’t done that,” she explained. “Probably used a few of the common cold cures…they make you feel better than you are. Now his body is telling him that he can’t go on like that,” she said with a shrug. “I’ll give him another potion and he can sleep it off. I’ll check on him tomorrow,” she promised and Cassian just nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. 

“He’ll be fine,” Rhys told him quietly, watching Madja do her work and Cassian just nodded silently. The moment of Azriel collapsing still played on a loop in his head. Again and again and again. 

“Let him rest. It’s the best you can do right now,” Madja said quickly. Right. 

“Only Az would manage to work until he literally dropped unconscious,” Cassian said with a sigh. 

“He’ll be fine,” Rhys repeated and he looked up to see Nesta crossing her arms but holding her tongue. 

She said nothing, even when Cassian could nearly feel her bristling across the bond. He pushed love at her, but Nesta just turned to stare at Azriel for a moment. 

“You can check on him every hour or so, but otherwise just leave him to rest,” Madja told them, pretty much herding them out of the room.

Rhys took her back down to the city, leaving Cassian and Nesta to play nursemaids. Or more like…check in on Azriel every fucking hour on the dot and realise that whatever Madja had given him only meant that he was so deep asleep that even the shadows were nowhere to be seen. They had disappeared for once. 

It was unsettling. 

Cassian had always been creeped out by them, to be completely honest. He never was quite sure what to make out of them, even when he knew he was safe from their wrath. 

And their wrath was something to be afraid of. He knew that better than anybody. 

 But they stayed quiet. 

Cassian checked with Azriel again before he went to bed…still asleep, wings stretched out over the bed, with no movement, no noise, other than the moving of his chest and the rasping of his breath…

He forced himself to go to sleep, figuring that watching his brother knocked out cold and asleep was probably at least a tiny bit creepy…and then was startled awake, by somebody snatching away his blanket. He was straight up sitting up in his bed, only to see the whisps of shadow swirl around the room, his blanket in their grasp. 

He cursed. “Azriel?” he asked sharply, and the shadows seemed to shake, bleeding out at the edges, something he had never seen them do either…

It was enough to make him get out of his bed and tear down the hallway towards his brother’s room, leaving behind a confused Nesta. 

The bed was empty. That was the first thing he realised. The second thing, was Azriel collapsed on the floor next to the door that led to his bathing chamber, blood sluggishly weeping from a wound on his forehead. 

Fuck. 

He crossed the room in a few steps, kneeling down next to his brother, fingers once again pressing to his pulse point. Heartbeat was quick but steady and Azriel roused as he touched him. 

“Azriel?” Cassian said quietly. “What happened?” he asked his brother, already pulling him to sit upright, Azriel’s skin taking on a near-grey pallor…still too hot and slick with sweat.

“Tried…bathroom…” the words sounded like every single one took so much fucking effort from Azriel. 

“Fuck, Az,” Cassian cursed. “I knew I should have stayed here,” he muttered under his breath, managing to get Azriel up from the floor and back into bed…fetching a towel to press against the sluggishly bleeding wound on his forehead…hissing at how Azriel had really managed to mangle his head…probably having tried to grab the edge of the desk on his way down and his forehead having caught the same.  

“You really got in there,” he said with a grimace. “You’ll need stitches…it’s bleeding.”

*Rhys,* he reached out, not caring that he probably pulled their other brother from sleep. He really didn’t care right now. Not when Azriel was bleeding all over that damn towel, slowly turning the white cotton fabric red. 

*What’s wrong?*

He didn’t even bother talking to Rhys and instead just shoved the memories of the last few minutes at him. For just a moment Rhys was quiet. 

*I’ll get Madja,* Rhys sighed 

“‘s fine,” Azriel mumbled, eyes closed, a weak cough working its way through his throat. 

“You are not.” Cassian disagreed, still wiping away blood. 

“Deserved it,” Azriel mumbled and Cassian froze. 

“No, you fucking don’t,” he snapped. What kind of idiotic thought was that? Azriel didn’t deserve the pain or the injury or anything like that. 

Azriel made a noise that sounded akin to something like disagreement. 

“Tired,” he said again, Cassian just stared at him. 

As much as he wanted to just let Azriel back to sleep, he was not going to do that, if he had a head injury. 

“Don’t go to sleep, Az. We want you to wake up again,” he told his brother tightly. Azriel mumbled something that he couldn’t understand. 

“Why,” his voice was weak and scratchy and he looked utterly miserable, even as Cassian pressed the towel against the wound…hazel eyes opened, looking hazy and in pain…

“Why I don’t want you to fucking die?” Cassian asked incredulously. Azriel didn’t react for a moment. 

Then, that same scratchy voice… bone-deep exhausted: “Y’have Nes.” the words were slurred, but Cassian still fucking understood him. “Sleep. Don’ wanna ‘ake up.”

And with these words, his breathing evened out and Cassian was ready to fucking bury a fist in the wall. 

So he had a mate. And he fucking adored Nesta, who had hung the moon and the stars as far as Cassian was concerned. But that didn’t mean…it didn’t fucking mean that his fucking brother was fucking replaceable. That didn’t mean that Cassian was just going to sit by and watch if Azriel needed help or was…

He stared at his brother. 

Swallowed. 

What had he done that made Azriel think that he wasn’t going to fucking care if he died? That it didn’t matter, because he had Nesta, so Azriel could just lay down to die and…Cassian wouldn’t care? What had…

He growled deep in his throat, carefully placing Azriel into the bed properly, still wiping away the blood. 

“Cassian?” Nesta’s voice came from the door, wrapped in a silky dressing gown and Cassian just shook his head. 

“He hurt his head on the way to the bathroom,” he told her tightly. “Hit the corner of his desk with his temple as he collapsed.”

Nesta hissed in sympathy. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have left him alone,” he muttered. 

“You did what Madja told you to do,” Nesta defended quietly. “We thought he was just going to sleep it off.”

“And if his fucking shadows hadn’t gotten me, he would have stayed laying on the floor bleeding until the morning,” Cassian snapped and then forced himself to take a deep breath. 

“But they did,” Nesta told him, touching his shoulder. “They did.”

Rhys and Madja arrived…the wound on Azriel's forehead was stitched up…

“He needs to rest. He’ll be fine,” Madja promised him once again. 

“He collapsed again,” Cassian said sharply.

“Cassian,” Rhys said with a sigh. “Madja knows what she is doing,”  he said pointedly. 

“His body is weakened,” Madja told him, a quirk of amusement in the set of her mouth. “He needs to rest. This was an…unfortunate accident.”

Yeah, it was. 

“Is there anything else we can do?” Nesta asked, crossing her arms. “I am not leaving him alone again until he feels better.” 

“You can get him another blanket,” Madja said. “I’ll leave you with some fever reducer…I’ll be back in the morning…”

Nesta nodded and he watched how his mate conferred with the house for just a moment before a thick blanket appeared at the foot of Azriel's bed and Nesta started to tuck it around his brother. 

“You are a mother hen, Cassian,” Rhys said with a sigh. Cassian glared at him. 

“You didn’t fucking hear him, Rhys,” he snapped. 

“What do you mean?” Rhys asked. For a moment it warred in Cassian and then he shoved the memory at Rhys. He watched his brother’s expression as he saw what Azriel had said, the shock and surprise filtering over his face. 

“He deserves the pain?” Rhys repeated incredulously. “ Why ?”

“I don’t know.” Cassian admitted quietly, watching Azriel back to being unconscious…“Do you know why he thinks that?” he asked Rhys. He hadn’t really seen his brother for weeks if not months…if not years…his own problems taking precedence and Azriel had never been the type of male to complain about anything. He was more the type of fae that would swallow down everything and anything until finally, he exploded. 

“It’s Azriel,” Rhys finally said, and Cassian stared at him. 

“What do you mean?” he demanded. 

“I mean, that he has been…filled with self-loathing for a very long time, Cassian,” Rhys said with a sigh. “All his shields are stripped away right now. I imagine he would have never said that until normal circumstances.”

“I don’t fucking care about the circumstances, he clearly actually believes it!” Cassian snapped.

“What do you want me to say, Cass?” Rhys asked with a sigh, flicking a piece of lint off his jacket. 

“I want you to act like you care. I want you to see that our brother has been fucking miserable for months and neither of us have even noticed it or tried to make it better!” Cassian snapped.

Rhys opened his mouth to respond and then closed it again. “Give him some time. He’ll get over it,” Rhys finally said with a sigh. Cassian just stared at him.

He turned away from Rhys, too fucking furious to even form the words in his mind. 

Madja and Rhys left the room and it was Nesta that finally said something.

“We are missing something,” Nesta said, crossing her arms. “Something went on between Rhys and Azriel.”

“What do you mean?” Cassian asked his mate. 

“I mean, that Rhys can be an utter prick, but he cares about the people he loves. And just saying that Azriel will get over himself…that’s not…” Nesta shook her head. 

Cassian sighed. “He has not been well, but  I just don’t…I don’t know what is wrong,” he admitted. “Do you think it’s about Mor and Emerie?” he asked hesitantly and Nesta stared at him. 

“What do you mean?”  Nesta asked him. “Azriel hasn’t said anything to Emerie as far as I know at least. He has been...very polite about the whole thing.” 

“He spent 500 years in love with Mor only for her to turn out to be mated to a female. And it’s not like she hadn’t…used other males to make it very obvious to Az that she was never going to be interested in him,”  Cassian admitted with a grimace. She had used him as well and he had been young and stupid and hurt his brother in the process. 

Azriel had never given him the fault for that. Had never even been actually outright angry at him for it. Even when Cassian thought that Azriel had every fucking right to it.

Nesta shook her head, reaching out to take his hand. 

“No…I think it’s about Elain,” she admitted quietly and Cassian could just stare at her. 

“Elain?” he echoed incredulously. What did Nesta’s sister have to do with any of this? What… “What does she have to do with…” 

Nesta’s gaze sharpened. “Azriel and her had a …I wouldn’t call it a fling, because nothing ever happened. But a flirtation maybe,” Nesta admitted. 

Oh. 

He remembered that time, when suddenly after 500 years Azriel seemed to have gotten over Mor. Suddenly. Without a forewarning. In a blink. Had Elain been the thing that had snipped away every last bit of hope…with Azriel suddenly confronted with another female who hadn’t scorned his attention, who hadn’t…And then she had chosen her mate. 

“I don’t know. I never asked,” Nesta said with a shrug. “But he loved her, I think.”

“And she married Lucien,” Cassian continued that though. “He got his heart broken.”

Of course.  “How exactly does Rhys fit into that?” he wondered and Nesta shrugged. 

“I do not know,” his mate answered. He sighed, finding himself the overstuffed armchair that was kept in one corner of the room and making himself comfortable. 

“You should go back to sleep, Nes,” he told her but Nesta just rolled her eyes at him, coming towards him and then curling herself up on his lap like there was no place that she liked more. 

It soothed something in his heart. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she hissed. “I am not going back to sleep when my mate is up worrying himself sick.”

It kindled some warmth in his stomach and he held her closer to himself, breathing in that scent of steel and ice that only she had. “I am not the sick one…that’s one Az,” he disagreed with her and Nesta just rolled her eyes.  

“He would be pissed off if he knew we were watching him sleep.”

He couldn’t help but snort, because Nesta was so very right.

They would never hear the end of it. 

[uncharismatic-fauna]

The Basics on the Barred Owl

Strix varia goes by many names: the barred owl, the northern barred owl, the striped owl, the hoot owl, the eight-hooter owl, or the who-cooks-for-you owl. The last few names refer to the owl's distinctive hooting call, which is often followed by what is often described as 'maniacal laughter'. The barred owl is native to the old-growth deciduous and coniferous forests of eastern North America, though in recent decades the species' range has expanded across the Rocky Mountains into the Pacific Northwest.

The striped owl can be hard to spot, due to its white and brown plumage. The back and wings are brown with white barring, while the chest is dull white or gray with brown streaks. The face is surrounded by a gray-white disk and framed with a brown mask. This coloration allows the barred owl to blend in seamlessly with the upper forest canopy where it resides-- although some populations in the southern parts of its range have been known to carry a pink tint due to the amount of shrimp they eat. However, S. varia is not a small birds; adults can be anywhere from 40 to 63 cm (16 to 25 in) in length, with a wingspan of 96 to 125 cm (38 to 49 in), and weigh about 630 g (22.2 oz) on average.

Like most owls, the barred owl is primarily nocturnal, though they can be fairly active during the day. When dormant, they roost in tree hollows or nests abandoned by other birds. At night, adults are active in guarding their territory and hunting for small mammals, birds, reptiles and amphibians, and large arthropods like moths and crayfish. The only natural predator of adult hoot owls is the great horned owl, which will often drive S. varia from their territory. Eggs and nestlings are sometimes prey for raccoons, weasels, and diurnal birds of prey.

S. varia mates for life, and couples are fiercely defensive of their territories and nests. Courtship and territory establishment begins in late winter, and continues from February to April. Males attract mates with their distinctive who-cooks-for-you call, and further entices prospective females with head bobbing and bowing. Together, the pair then establishes a roost and the female lays up to 5 eggs. She alone incubates the clutch for about a month, while the male hunts for her. After hatching, the female continues to care closely for the chicks for another 2-3 weeks, at which time she joins the male in hunting.

Hatchlings quickly become active, and are prone to falling out of the tree, but even at only 4 weeks old they are able to climb back up the trunk. Siblings have been recorded as being tight-knit, often staying close together in the nest and when learning to fly. Fledging begins at about 6 weeks old, and by 10 weeks young are capable of short flights. However, parents continue to provide care to their chicks until they're 6 months old, at which time the young owls leave (or are forced to leave) and establish their own territories. Mortality in barred owls is highest in their first year of life, and once out of this perilous stage individuals may live to be up to 18 years old in the wild.

Conservation status: The barred owl is a common species, and is considered by the IUCN to be Least Concern. The expansion of its range into the Pacific Northwest is considered one of the major causes of the decline of the northern spotted owl.

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Photos

Mick Thompson

Hal Thrachtenberg

Mark Musselman

[homeofhousechickens]

Hii, I saw your Marek's disease post, my cousin has a hen that has this kind of eye but she's ok, she eats, moves and everything, do you maybe know if this type can also evolve and become the most dangerous types like the paralysis? I'll be glad if you can answer and hope you have a great day

There are 5 different "forms" of Mareks and different "strains" of the virus that are more lethal or infectious then others. It's possible for a bird to present with multiple symptoms and forms when they have the disease.

Nerve form- Birds with this form have tumors infiltrate into their peripheral nerves. This causes symptoms like wry neck and sometimes a head tilt. It can also cause a chicken to have a slow crop and have trouble emptying. 20% of birds with this form die

Transient paralysis form - Causes brain edema and ataxia. The bird can have partial paralysis of the neck and legs. Usually, you will see these birds trying to use their wings to get around while falling over a bunch. 30% of birds with this form will die.

Ocular form- The virus replicates in the eye, causing tumors and vision loss. This causes the shape and color of the eye to change. 25% of birds with this form will die.

Skin form- The virus replicates in the skin causing tumor growth and enlarged feather follicles. Usually the location for these is around the head, legs, and vent. The bird will be lumpy and might have wonky feather growth but that's usually it. This form has the lowest mortality rate.

Visceral form- Tumors develop all throughout the body and onto the internal organs. The symptoms will present differently depending on what organs and systems are affected. 60-80% of birds with this form will die.

For chickens with Ocular Mareks they are usually older birds that have a bit of an immunity to the virus which is why their body is able to kind of suppress it but unfortunately the chicken can still have tumor development elsewhere in her body especially if her immune system gets compromised by a different illness like coccidosis or fowl pox.

If your girl has the Ocular form you must assume the rest of your flock has it and it's possible for it to present as the other forms. Mareks can stay dormant in a host for a long time then pop out when the birds immune system is weakened.

For anyone reading this and getting worried..

YOU CAN TEST FOR MAREKS! A lot of people don't know you can test living birds for the disease but it can also be diagnosed via necropsy. Your vet can help you with the testing but you can also do the testing yourself using something like VetDNA.com.

To avoid Mareks you can get your birds vaccinated and only purchase from NPIP certified flocks. The vaccine won't stop the spread of the disease but it can prevent birds from showing symptoms. If you have a mareks positive flock it's important to keep them on your property and dont sell them or show them as they can infect other birds.

Good biosecurity practices are a must and the best way to prevent an outbreak is running a closed flock. No adult or baby birds are added everything is hatched and raised on the property is the ideal. Of course accidents can still happen like if you have a close neighbor with an infected flock. Mareks spreads through the dander so it's important that infected birds don't share air space with non infected birds.

If your birds do have Mareks and you want a flock that isn't infected the best thing to do is either cull your current flock, or wait for them to pass naturally. There are certain cleaners like Rescue and Kennelsol that kill the Mareks virus so you would want to clean all old feeders and waterer with it (or get new ones) and I have seen people say to burn down the old coop as it can be tricky removing the dust from the crevices. Mareks can live in the soil for a long long time but like other viruses you can still work towards sanitizing and decomtaminating the soil.

You can still hatch eggs from Mareks infected birds as the disease doesn't transfer vertically.

Hopefully this is the information you were looking for

[brandwhorestarscream]

I just had an insane idea lol. Imagine if D-16 was an infant cybermorph queen in the Sentinel sparkling au. Like what would happen when Galvatron found out that his precious baby got r word, I'd imagine he'd go batshit insane trying to unleash hell apon Sentinal lol. Bonus points if Alpha Trion somehow adopted the crew b4 the reunion with Galvatron happened. Both the papas gonna do everything they can to protect babes.

Ohhhhh my GOD i hadn't even CONSIDERED!!!!!

Holy shit you're so smart!

D-16 is incredibly young, they all are--infant cybermorph queens don't reach sexual maturity for hundreds or even thousands of years, and Dee is only about 30. Normally, it wouldn't even be possible for him to conceive. Despite he himself not knowing what he is, his instincts do. A lone, undefended morph with no hive in sight, surrounded by another species, chances of survival are slim.

Being without a cog actually probably saved him, keeping him in root (what the morphs call hideaway) mode and letting him seamlessly blend in and be safe. If he still had his cog and was aware of what he is, the stress of hiding and feeling isolated could've caused emergency drone egg production. Its happened before (the insectimorph queen and his Kiss of Death), but thankfully, Dee had companionship and love in droves thanks to his fellow miners. His body never felt the need to force him to make drones for his own protection, so his reproductive array remained dormant

Until, of course, they were stimulated for the first time by Sentinel. The Prime was extremely thorough, filled them up so full of transfluid the underdeveloped cybermorph systems went, "oh?? Egg time? Already? Egg? Eggs???" and the unfertilized gametes in his egg chambers slip into the womb being exposed to reproductive nanites. He's still very young and really isn't ready to be laying, but his body didn't get the memo. It's an extremely small clutch, probably 3-7.

When they arrive at the Grave, Dee is still incredibly sick, but he's so fever addled he's barely coherent. Alpha Trion manages to treat the worst of his symptoms, but he's still in bad shape. The egglings are sucking up more than he can give, and theyre overdue to be laid at this point. They crossed more than half of the planet’s vertical length to find Alpha Trion: they've been on the road for months. Fertilized eggs are supposed to do up to 95% of their fetal development outside of the womb, during which period they grow exponentially. Dee's been having horrible, stabbing cramping in his middle for weeks now, failed contractions as his body tries to release the ovomorphs. His whole abdomen feels pressurized, painfully tight and full as his organs are all pushed around while the eggs swell. He can't lay in hideaway mode, nor can his reproductive organs actually shift into place the way they're meant to without his transformation cog.

Alpha Trion, once revived, notices that D-16 hosts several infant sparks inside of him. And, worse, seems to be in active labor! The youngling doesn't even seem to realize what's happening to him. Alpha wastes no time, recognizing that he or the sparklings could die if his valve and array can't transform.

Without hesitation he takes a cog from one of his fallen siblings and slips it into his chassis. Orders the other three to stay back and not interfere, going to hurriedly get Dee spread out on the ground. The silver mech's huffing and moaning now, shaking like a leaf. "It'hurss..." He slurs. "It HURTS!"

Alpha Trion's seen sparklings delivered before, and has even helped some of his siblings deliver their demigods. He's not at all phased when the younging's lower half jerks, panels at his hips and pelvis transforming back with such speed it's little more than a blur. His valve is already spiraling open and gushing copious amounts of glowing pink fluid. These sparklings are coming now.

D-16 wails and cries out for, "PAX! Paaaax!" while sobbing hysterically because, "Wha's happen'ing? What's going'on? It hurts, make'itstooop!"

Despite the old Prime's warnings, Orion Pax scrambles right up to them, sliding in on his knees beside him, grabbing D-16's hand. "Dee! Dee, I'm- I'm here, d-don't worry, we'll-"

The silver mech SCREAMS and his back bows off the ground, heels scrabbling in the dirt--distantly, Orion's fingers crack and he yelps--as something huge and round breaches the rim of his valve. Bawling hysterically, he frantically strains, and with an enormous heave of effort the egg is free, plopping with a soft, wet noise to the cave floor.

D-16 goes limp and boneless, gasping for air and covered in condensation. His optics squint against the already meager light, then flicker shut a moment neck going limp. He cant help it, doesn't even feel it coming: suddenly exhaustion sinks it's jaws into him and he loses consciousness in a single moment.

"Oh, Primus..." Alpha Trion utters the name sounding haunted, staring down in horror at what is definitely not a newborn sparkling.

"Dee?" Orion hasn't even noticed, and is now gently shaking him. "Hey, D-Dee! C'mon, wake up! S-Say something! D-16! You have to-"

He's cut off, yelping as something wraps around his middle and yanks him off the ground and away from his friend. The cave floor zooms by, both his arms and legs are dangling, and he hears Elita go, "Hey! What-"

Alpha Trion's scooped up all three of them in 10 seconds flat, already sprinting away as quickly as he can. He forcefully carries the trio into the escape tunnels, turning around only to shoot at the ceiling and bring it down to block the entrance.

"Stop, stop!" Orion yells at him. "What're you doing?! We can't just leave him! Put me down, what are you-? What about D-16?!"

...

I've written too much and need to stop for now lol. Sorry we didn't get to Galvatron beating Sentinel's ass just yet, but I got inspired and just had to roll with it. I'm loving this!! Ya'll want more? Cuz i do. Lmk

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Prologue

Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro.

Synopsis:

Your name is Kozuki Raya, but no one calls you by that name anymore. Using the alias of Tenguyama Raya as advised by your grandfather, you are the descendant of the legendary swordsmith Kotetsu and a distant friend of the Shimotsuki clan.

Following in your ancestor’s footsteps, you dedicate your life to the mastery of sword crafting, wielding, and learning. With much of your life being taught by gramps Sukiyaki, you realise that the dormant power, ancient knowledge and ancestral secrets that thrum within your veins start to play a very important role in the way the future world is shaped.

Meeting the Straw Hats was not written anywhere within your blueprints, but – most importantly - meeting Roronoa Zoro wasn’t supposed to change the trajectory of your life either.

Prologue

"She's passed on, young man."

A weathered voice croaks out from behind one of the passing fruit stalls. The shadowed man lingers from the safety of his merchandise, the scorching sun missing only by a small inch from kissing his leathered skin.

Gritting his teeth, Zoro aimlessly turns around whilst sheathing the limping metal back to her home. Does anyone keep their fucking thoughts to themselves anymore? He mutters in his head.

“You really should let her go," the man eggs on with such a proud voice that it almost flows against the direction of the wind, against the grain of the public. As Zoro stands within the mingling market, with bundles of crowds gracing the pavements around him with their excited chatter, only but this old voice advances stronger than the rest, almost resting too clearly and proudly within the shell of Zoro’s ears.

Zoro kisses his teeth and whips his head at the direction of the sound again, finally being able to spot the silhouette to the voice - right there. The shadow with hands that slice through those blood red apples with an abnormally jagged knife. Zoro narrows his eye at the blurred figure, trying to figure it out.

“Tsch, fruit guy. Butt out, yeah?” He grumbles, shooting him a disdainful side eye. Crossing his arms in defiance, Zoro stays in his position like the good lap dog he seems to be turning into; if Luffy wasn’t so intent on him coming on this bloody island, he would’ve been able to rest. And to be able look at his poor, wounded sword in peace without dealing with so many wandering eyes.

In an instant, the old man cracks out in laughter, his voice bellowing out in clear tides. His shadowed arms grasp at his belly, a large-lipped smile peering out of his shelter. “Feisty one, I see…Is she special to you?”

The she in mention begins to hum weakly against the side of the green-head’s hip, whimpering and struggling, almost as if trying to reply. With an irritated twitch of his eyebrow, Zoro finally gives in to gape straight-on at the old geezer.

“It’s an it, not a she, dumbass. Swords have one purpose only; this one has simply served it,” Zoro snaps, straining his eyes even further to try to look at this peculiar man.

With a broken pang, the sword sheathed by his side begins to twinge again, but in an octane lower - and somehow, Zoro can feel it in his own core; he knows what the thrum of metal tugged across his leg is trying to say – the sword feels hurt by his own stupid words.

In a snap, Zoro's hand carefully rests over her head.

“Looks like you’re caressing her to me.”

“Shut up! Who even asked for your opinion?" Zoro growls, immediately yanking his hand away from his hip. The odd merchant simply guffaws in response.

Tsk. How dare he decide whether his sword was fit for battle or not?

“I’m not here to judge you, green-hair, but it simply looks to me that you have a bond with that scrap of metal. Come here.”

“I’m not in the mood, gramps. Go sell your damn apples to someone else.”

“I see. I suppose you would waste their time, anyway…”

Although Zoro’s ears are now perked by the ‘them’ in question, he keeps his eye shut tight and remains silent; he’s not going to give into this fraud’s tactics in getting a reaction from him. Hmph.

The merchant continues, quite obviously enjoying his jest with the bull-headed swordsman. “You know, that swordsmith. What was her name again…Penguyama? Tenguyummy? Tengushimmy…?”

Zoro stares at him blankly.

Clearly, this geezer is overestimating Zoro’s intelligence.

The small hints of names he’s throwing out is completely flying right past the swordman’s head, seeing how it seems like no one’s at home. Literally no light bulbs are screwed on properly up there. 

Another second passes where they both stare, bewildered by one another. The old, short man clears his throat.

“Pardon my language…But you seem quite dense.” 

“Fuck you! You’re the one who’s talking in riddles!”

“I. Help. You. With. Sword.” The merchant slowly enunciates, using his fingers to imitate the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Come.” He points obnoxiously with his finger at the incline into the hills. “Person. Makes. Swords…They. Help.” 

“Stop talking to me as if I’m slow!?”

“Pfft, you could’ve fooled me.” The merchant giggles like a child.

“Are you begging me to slice you in half?” Zoro shouts, childishly stomping towards the fruit stall.

But then, something very odd happens; as Zoro manages to look at gramps clearly for the first time, he freezes in his spot.

Indeed, it is a weathered old man leaning behind a stack of his precious fruits. With silver hair brushed across his shoulders, his unwavering smile greets the samurai with an odd sense of confidence.

But that isn’t what makes Zoro stop in his track, no, it’s what he says next. The next six words that comes out of the old man’s mouth…his awfully jagged knife limply resting over his knuckles, a knowing glint striking across his well-travelled eyes… all of it sounds self-assured.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Zoro doesn’t know what it is about this guy in front of him, but it just makes him stop. His mouth fails to open to retort something offensive – instead, he simply cocks his head to the side.

He doesn’t know whether it’s the knife that he’s masterfully twirling across the both of his hands, or if it’s the familiarity of his face – those eyes, hasn’t he seen the same ones before? – but something about him makes Zoro pause for a moment.

Gramps smiles wider, indenting his wrinkles further like ripples scattering across water, and rises one thick grey eyebrow at him.

“Now, then. Are we ready to go?”

The samurai kisses his teeth for the fifth time in a row and twists his head to the side in defeat. Subconsciously, his hand inches towards his broken sword - his untethered lifeline.

“Whoever they are, they better be worth it.”

Zoro didn’t know at the time of what was about to unfold, of what was about to be the trigger to a never-ending tale of perplexity and pain, but I can assure you that now, at this very moment, he would say that – indeed - she is worth it all.

[sgiandubh]

Autopsy of a gay lie: the Wikipedia trail

“You can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time.”

― Abraham Lincoln

For starters, sorry for the length and numerous screencaps. It is an investigation, after all and these are sorely needed.

Never underestimate the conjugated power of Internet, a Sunday afternoon and the lightbulb moment that can happen while baking something, because you know, people have also to reward themselves at some point.

I might have fucked up my foolproof Lemon Squares recipe, but I regret nothing. It took me three hours I could have gratefully used to finish that spirits post, but this is too damn good not to share.

Remember Meow Kabob's cross my heart and hope to die pinky swear she found confirmation of Data Lounge's allegations on Wikipedia, out of all places? How she regularly unburies that infamous screenshot listing S under the Wiki "Gay Actors" category? How she told us, filthy and uneducated shipper mob, over and over again, that story about STARZ people scouring the Internet far and wide and scrubbing any gay reference related to S, as soon or shortly after he was cast as JAMMF?

I can confidently prove now Lincoln's perennial truths I quoted above apply to this situation.

I was just pouring my lemon juice, eggs, flour and sugar mix over the hot and nutty shortbread when I stopped in my tracks: 'wait a second, isn't Wikipedia an open source project? BUT OF COURSE IT IS, SILLY COW - yes, I very often talk to myself like that. RUN. NOW. I HAVE TO KNOW.'

Sure enough, like death and taxes, the full edit list of S's Wikipedia page was there for everyone to see:

Even better, since Internet is forever, we have full access to all these edits and can take screenshots.

This is how Sam's Wikipedia odissey started, on November 11th 2007, when he was the complete underdog:

A ' strapping lad with natural dark blonde hair and 6'2'' tall', ideal for the role of Alexander the Great - pious silence and RIP. I grinned, because it sounds well, naïve? It also sounds gay, perhaps? What else does it prove, other than the gay crowd has an acute interest for novelty and a wandering eye?

Nothing. Not even remotely related to S.

Also, note the two classification categories: British TV actor stubs/ British actor stubs. Mark them, they stayed still and alone for a looooong time.

Up until 2009, in fact, when the wikientry was no longer considered a stub and even got several category additions:

Then again, some movin' on up, on that semi-dormant page, in 2013. Totes normal:

By early 2014, even more interest in S commands an expanded webpage and a longer, more detailed, category listing:

Let's quickly peruse 2015...

2016...

The incorrect Irish descent category stayed there for about ten days, until removed by another user. This is how it is done and it is then added to the list:

2017, 2018, 2019, early 2020, no change in the categories, but all hell broke lose content-wise. From Cirdan, the 'estranged brother' acting in a very gay connotated theatre production I have never heard about, in London, September 2016...

...... to a woman named Tiffany Trach who used to dream the impossible dream, in October 2016 (and she was not the only one, far from it)...

...to some halfwit being rightfully slapped for adding brainless Flukenzie Floozy content in March 2017:

By that time, I was getting supremely bored clicking on links and wanted to pack the tent and throw my lemon squares in the trash bin. But, lo and behold, what do I see on January 26th 2020:

With the tag possible vandalism:

Whodunnit?

A very brave person, hiding under a string of random numbers...

... and one single contribution EVER to the Wikipedia juggernaut. This is what I would call a targeted attack:

It stayed like that, unmolested, for five days only, until the user Spiderpig662 decided enough is enough and did something about it...

....categories being then restored to the previous wording:

The last vicious gay reference on Wikipedia dates back to May 28th 2020 (Ha-wa-wee, anyone?), was labeled as 'hate speech' & promptly removed:

Where wuffter is, in British Cockney slang:

Same modus operandi, this time an IP address, pinging in (you simply can't make this shit up, can you?)...

County Durham, FYI.

I then asked myself when exactly did Meow Kabob appear on Tumblr?

Even more exactly, on...

That is, to say the least, a troubling coincidence.

I do not imply anything, I have no wish to attack anyone. All I am saying, is that particular argument, which this user is shouting anytime she is prompted to, had a very short online lifespan. How could an American woman, who appeared in this fandom shortly afterwards, have known about changes operated for five days only, by an unknown user, on the open source webpage of a B-listed British actor?

I have only one question, Your Honor:

WHY?

I rest my case.

[Edit]: To make it maybe more clear, I now know where the person adding that category lives, thanks to Wikipedia's own tracking system:

No surprises here:

Augusta. Georgia. USA.

Now, yes. Now I rest my case.

[lol-jackles]

Walker review, episode 7 "Hold me now"

It's a beautiful golden morning and Cordell prepares to fix breakfast of egg and bacon for August but he's already half-way out the door. Come on Auggie, it's bacon, everybody loves bacon! Cordell puts away the egg and bacon and opt for cereal while he reads James' book on a serial killer. Cereal, serial, get it? I slay me.

Little did August know that morning would be the last time his dad would be there for him, and he'd going to wish he had stayed for breakfast.

At Ranger HQ, Cordell is leading the team search for the serial killer called the jackal who was previously dormant but now back and have killed 2 people. Cordell's first choice of suspect, a wife abuser, turned up to be a dead end but that doesn't slow him down. The following day he picks another suspect from the bottom of the least suspicious list, a former zoo keeper whose zoo was the closest site of the first victim. Nobody is on board with Cordell's theory so he's like, no problem, I'll check the defunct zoo myself. Cassie refuse to let Cordell go alone and Luna invites himself along.

The trio arrives at the creepy abandoned zoo and only the audience see the decayed corpse of an animal, a jackal with missing teeth, which is the killer's calling card. Luna and Cassie find a disturbing underground room filled with tools of the killer's trade. Cordell finds fresh tracks and chases a distant figure, who escapes after he ambushes Cordell and knocks him out. Though the killer remains free, the rangers are closer than they've ever been in years and his lair will provide much needed data for a profile.

Cordell is upset that he was so close to catching the killer and is more determined than ever to finish the job. He returns home to find Liam upset that history is repeating itself, Cordell is neglecting his family and Liam is picking up the slack. Cordell says he will make it up to his children and tells Liam to stop being so dramatic. (At this point I', convinced Ben is running the horse rescue.)

Both men are correct and there's no easy answer. A serial killer is on the loose and catching it is not a 9 to 5 job. There's an expectation that public service jobs mean some family times has to be scarified. I know a family that has 3 generations of firefighters, they never spent a single Thanksgiving and Christmas together as a family because the men are too busy putting out kitchen fires and/or fireplace fires caused by idiots. Mothers Day is the only holiday that most criminals take a break from their usual criminal activities.

Cordell goes to his study room filled with research on the jackal and it is revealed that he stole evidence from the killer's lair, a length of rope. Cordell tightly wraps the rope around his wrist as if he's trying to get into the mind of the killer and looking through his eyes. In an earlier scene, Cassie said zoo keeping isn't that much different from ranching and pointedly looks at Cordell.

Sidenote, Luna and Cassie finds the killer's note written in capitalized letters, which is the same style Luna wrote in his love note to Cassie. I really hope this is a red herring for Cassie's sake, her two previous dates literally tried to kill Cordell: for a cause and for revenge, respectively. Cassie doesn't need the third romance to turn out to be another psycho and also I need the three of them to go undercover at a Shadow Hawk convention.

Speculation #4: the Jackal is a member of the survivor network and encouraged people like Henry to blame innocent people. He knew Luna was undercover at the motel and learned his handwriting style to feed false leads to the survivor network.

Score: 9.7 out of 10.  We get to see why Cordell is the best ranger as the stakes are deepening. A point 2 deduction for the stalled necklace mystery, another point 2 deduction for Bonham and Abeline subplot about derailed retirement plans. Point 1 given back for August maturing and being a good kid.

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

BIG WYRM DADMARE!

I suppose he found the eggs himself!

yes :3 Nightmare found Dust, killer and Horror with a group of Wyvern egg hunters who had wandered into his territory. As Nightmare has a rather big dislike of trespassers he automatically eliminates them on the spot.

He did not know they where egg hunters at the time. just that they where disturbing his forest. So now he has three eggs... this was not the plan.

Figuring he couldn't just leave them Nightmare takes them to an old abandoned nesting cave near the center of his forest, deciding that he would find a suitable parent when the chance came. (Giant Wyvern eggs wont hatch until they spend enough time around an adult to passively absorb their magic. they can stay dormant for a long while)

a few months later Nightmare comes across a strangely abandoned nest. it had been full of life only a few months ago. Nightmare was going to see if he could find someone willing to take the eggs he currently had. (he didn't really have anything better to do, he was probably rather bored) but yea the entire place was empty. except for Cross's egg which he found in a small alcove like it had been quickly hidden.

Nightmare is beginning to wonder why he is finding so many eggs. is he cursed well one crisis later Nightmare decides to just put cross with the other three.

now he's in a bit of a predicament. he's out of nests he can go to that he isn't banished from. So yea. While Nightmare is trying to figure out what to do he forgets to limit his time around the eggs so they end up hatching. Horror is first, Dust hatches a few days later, Killer hatches a month after horror, and then Cross hatches a month after that.

Since they imprinted on his magic Nightmare has no choice but to raise them now :D

[randomwritingsnips]

"What are you talking about?" Grandmamah seemed taken aback.

"Nerissa never had a daughter!"

In the moment, Agatha froze, a chill running through her tentacles and possibilities began to aline.

She had felled the Queen, hadn't she? She had slain Nerissa, but then how would she have…

"I did it!" Ruby exclaimed in joy as she seam back to Chelseas' side, landing as she opened up her hand, showing the Trident of Oceanus, a smile spreading across her face.

Chelsea moved closer, staring at the Trident in awe and wonder.

"Mothers' Trident…" Chelsea muttered in awe, her eyes appearing to redden as she thought back what little memories she had of that Day.

Hidden away at her mothers' side, hidden within an Egg, nearly ready to burst open. She had seen it all. The Battle, the turn, her fall…

"I never thought that I'd really see it…" The Mermaid muttered as she reached out to grasp the Trident.

In a moment, something resonated within Chelseas' mind as her expression twisted, her giving out a cry as she erupted with steam all around her.

Ruby pulled back, protecting herself with her body Armor out of Instinct.

Once the steam subsided, the Kraken called out in a panic, "Chelsea! Are you okay!?"

As the steam cooled and a much larger form showed itself, a Scaley Form of a mermaid, flowing red hair turning to lines of foam.

As Chelsea opened her eyes, something felt…off…

"Krystal, Kraken…" She grimaced while staring at Ruby, as if she was a complete stranger.

-------

This is just a small piece of what I liked to think about after that reveal in the movie. I sorta like the idea of this a bit more. Maybe the Trident can have a memory of its Wielders by Species, leading to some sort of memory event. And of course there is the change of Chelsea being her own. What a depressing conclusion. Should have just made Chelsea her own character. Would be a more interesting suprise Twist for Agatha and her mother to discover this.

I watched the movie out of curiosity and to unwind, only to be so disappointed at this part that I've rewritten it as a fragment and revived this blog that laid dormant since I had heatstroke Last year and then 2023s' punches as an end result.

Here are my concepts of what can be done though. Instead Chelsea should have been her own character, indeed Nerissas' daughter, most likely still in her egg and having witnesses her own mothers' death.

Perhaps She is indeed Genuine as well, actually being friends with Ruby. Perhaps there are species based effects of the Trident of Oceanus. Maybe it brings up the memories of its past weilders, and with a trauma of having witnessed her mother having been slain, it can give just the right weakness for Chelsea to be over taken and almost possessed by the Trident, representing the past itself.

"A Kraken always answers the Call."

"A Mermaid remains true to her roots."

Perhaps she gets Ruby Early on into a bind and is about to slay her, only for tears to form as she tries to restain herself, not wanting to do it.

A Villian still, but an unintended one, making the real villain maybe the sins of the past.

Dunno if I'll update this one again, As I'd need to rewatch the movie again as I went to theaters, but here is this fragment and some of my ideas.

I wonder if people can ignore a companys' vision with enough audacity that they just retcon it in a sequel.

As a final piece, Maybe she does meet Agatha, and is holding onto Ruby in a way for comfort, as she is technically meeting then the Kraken that had killed her mother.

Maybe There is an argument in private where she demands Chelsea stay away from Ruby, as Mermaids can't be trusted, not even one.

This can also have a side effect of weakening Chelseas' resolve for an actual Peace, but memory of Ruby brings it all back, especially after Ruby picks her up and they leave.

Interesting if Also Chelsea gets called a monster by Agatha during that scene.

Suggest tags. I'm off to shower before the Infernal Meatball in the sky decides to fry me again.

[moonsaver]

It’s me @pix3lplays back at it again, not a request, but you mentioned a SLEEPOVER with the Stellaron hunters and it isn’t leaving my head so please have some thoughts…

First of all oh my gosh just IMAGINE their pajamas I’m crying that’s so funny…Silver Wolf’s is just straight up a Pokémon onesie or something-

Kafka has some very pretty, tasteful silk pajamas with lace…

Blade. Idk I imagine he probably sleeps shirtless or something (I’m normal about his scars I swear) but if he knows they’re having a guest he wears some random t-shirt alongside his sweatpants. Like. He doesn’t care what he wears at night…it’s a t-shirt with a really bizarre Picture or incomprehensible writing on it and you’re just like ??? Okay….

The human cast? Each of them have long enough hair…for a braid train…Kafka doing something really nice with Silver Wolf’s hair…while Blade just does something basic for Kafka, and then y/n gets to experiment with Blade’s hair…if he’ll let you. Important stuff I’m telling you.

Trying to play a board game with them that results in Kafka having to use her Spirit Whisper at LEAST once to get you all to calm down. Do NOT play Uno. Blade got +four carded like five times in a row, you felt so bad for him…

PILLOW FIGHT GONE WRONG!!! SO MANY INJURIES!!! Sam and Blade took it WAY too seriously.

At least one incident of Blade asking you to smother him with a pillow.

Silver Wolf who stays up LATE. So late. You’re all watching her play a video game, and the girl just doesn’t STOP, haha. Eventually you all would like to go to sleep…not her. You try so hard to stay awake to watch her but you end up falling asleep on the shoulder of another Stellaron Hunter.

Kafka eventually makes Silver Wolf go to sleep, but Silver Wolf does that thing I used to do as a kid where I’d just. Hide under the blanket while playing my DS. That’s Silver Wolf.

Blade getting a mara flare up in the middle of the night kinda killing the mood. Sam holding him like he’s a feral animal while you and Kafka calm him down.

Sam who I’m assuming doesn’t have to really sleep? Combined with Blade waking up really early results in them waking up the rest of you by accident in the morning haha.

Cooking breakfast for the Stellaron Hunter humans…please I NEED- (don’t mind me not really knowing how to cook but I CAN make pancakes and scrambled eggs lol)

I just…need a Stellaron Sleepover. Elio needs to put it in the script, I’m BEGGING.

Hello, Pixel! Glad to see you in my inbox, hehe.

The sleepover is a very fun concept!

I think your descriptions of their sleepwear is quite spot on. As for Blade.. does.. does he sleep? I feel like.. he just only takes off his normal clothes for wash day. Otherwise he probably just has.. some ripped up, old clothing that's begging to be put out of it's misery. Kafka has to come to the rescue once again and fish out some more appropriate wear for the sleepover and force him to change into them.

As for the braid train, I love it! They're all chattering and snickering, and y/n gets to experiment with Blade's hair. I imagine they temporarily dismantle the train to look at y/n's progress on his hair, and go back into their positions after. I think Blade's hair would actually be kind of silky near the roots, and in the middle. Most likely because he uses either Kafka's, or Silverwolf's bare minimum shampoo products which is miraculous for his hair. The ends are.. crusty, to say the least. But hey! It's not everyday you get to braid and shape his hair all silly. Make most of it!

The card game.. aww. Uno is probably the only thing all of you can really play, monopoly's not interesting enough for Blade to keep his attention, and other board games like Ludo makes Silverwolf too competitive, and Kafka's tried one too many times to cheat the dice. So.. Uno's the only simple option, not like they can't cheat, but.. it's a small card game, so.. whatever. They just stay dormant. Until all of you simultaneously pulled out a +4 and Blade had to pick up almost half of the card stack.. yikes.

Pillow fighting is probably the only activity that gets Blade actively engaged,but it's not long before the threads all snap except a few and the pillow is begging for mercy, Blade swinging it with such force to the point there's only a small bunch of cotton and fabric left.. injuries are even worse than that. Sam is a hair's breadth away from shooting someone through the pillow itself. So pillow fighting is banned until both Blade and Sam learn how to take it easier.

Silver wolf staying up to play extremely late.. makes sense. She would. Forms a small tent with an ominous glow from the inside, and it's just her console. At least, she doesn't quite disturb you as much as the others.

Blade.. poor thing. He himself probably doesn't want the mara flare up. After a while of calming him down everyone's just docile and kind of concerned about his shuddering state. Except Sam, of course. Deathly iron grip. Asks if he's done and if he can go. Dude, read the room!

Breakfast! Silverwolf's definitely not awake by then. Kafka's up and ready, miraculously. She offers you.. questionable substances, if you can even call it edible. But don't worry! Just close your eyes, take a mouthful, and leave it to Kafka if your stomach feels weird. Blade.. isn't someone that's partial to cooking, but all the Stellaron Hunters quietly watch him cook from the side.. watching him struggle a bit, but manage to cook an average breakfast with a few burnt sides. And of course, y/n gets first dibs.

[csolarstorm]

Xerneas and Yveltal are Fungi: Let Me Explain...

Source: Bulbapedia, Wikipedia, Bulbapedia, Enchanted Nature

Xerneas and Yveltal are my favorite legendary designs. There's something weirdly alien about these bio-luminescent approximations of fauna, like they're trying to look like animals and failing. I've always thought they looked a little bit...fungal.

Xerneas and Yveltal are like batteries. They're life energy brokers; Xerneas distributes life, while Yveltal drains it. Supporting and draining life is one of the main characteristics of fungi. In fact, it's like their whole thing.

Some fungi have a mutualistic relationship with their hosts, where they actually benefit their health. And in general, fungi are essential to supporting the ecosystem. Then there's fungi that are simply parasitic.

Fungi can also go dormant, as well as their spores. Staying still is their thing, just chilling in dark places. Xerneas and Yveltal's dormant forms are especially weird, showing just how anomalous these creatures are.

Now allow me to lichen fauna to fungi.

Sources: Bulbapedia, New Forest Pics, Wikipedia, Mushroom Diary Blog

This is xylaria hypoxylon, also known as Stag's Horn fungus. (Not to be confused with Yellow Staghorn.) It reminds me a lot of the dormant form of Xerneas, or the "deactivated" form it takes in the PC.

Stag's Horn is also bio-luminscent, which means the tips of the fungus faintly glow - much like the tips of Xerneas's antlers.

Speaking of the first legendary Fairy Pokemon, mushrooms are often associated with fairies. Fairy Rings are circles of mushrooms that are connected by mycelium underneath. (I'll get into mycelium in just a second.) There are too many myths about Fairy Rings to get into here, so for now I'll just point out the Fairy Ring around Valerie's Gym in Laverre City.

Sources: Bulbapedia, Sussex Wildlife Trust, Enchanted Nature, UK Wildlife

I'm not sure whether Bulbapedia or Dr. King on Pokemon Amino first likened Yveltal to Devil's Fingers, but the similarities are uncanny. Like Yveltal emerges from its cocoon, Devil's Fingers emerge from what is called their "egg stage". I tried to find the least unsettling picture of this that I could. Enjoy...?

I mean, what kind of bird turns into a cocoon, anyway? Honestly though, fungus isn't supposed to hatch from an egg either, so this is all mixed up.

Okay, so Xerneas and Yveltal are based on different aspects of Yggdrasil. But if you were going to design Pokemon based on Yggdrasil, the World Tree that connects the universe, wouldn't you base it on fungi rather than an actual tree? Mycelium can actually partner with the roots of plants and other fungus to create a widespread beneficial mycorrhizal network, a truly interconnected ecosystem of organisms.

Source: BBC News - How Trees Secretly Talk to Each Other

And that's why Xerneas and Yveltal are fungi. Or it could be part of their inspiration, at least. They're not necessarily inspired by these specific fungi, but I think the concept may be part of their design. Either way, Gen VI is especially fun to research!

Reviewed by @fluffybunnybadass.

Check out my posts about Pokemon Legends: Z-A:

Poll: What Does the Λ in Legends Z-A Symbolize?

Pokemon Legends Z-A: What Is the Λ?

Is Z-A Just Zygarde-A? (%1000 Zygarde and the Fragments of the Tree of Life)

Aaah, it's an A! Is the A in Z-A the Tree of Life?

How much longer am I going to have to wait for a freakin' Unova remake?!