#losely based on Aztec mythology

[rainforestakiie]

hello! here is my new omega au! i do hope you like it! it is loosely based on aztec and mayan mythology, with other mythology added in to make an interesting story, i hope.

this was originally inspired by @lilacwriter07's ask where they wanted some more omega adamsapple, and they allowed me to be more creative! do not worry, lilacwriter07, your ask will be in this au! i have it already written out; i just want to get the 'back story' out first! expect part 02 in a day or so, then your ask!

ahhh! i really can't wait for everyone to read this and let me know what you think!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

From a tender age, Adam knew he was unlike anyone else. His parents were breathtaking, with sculpted bodies and elegant frames. After their ash-fall, they had become even more radiant, effortlessly attracting admirers. Their skin was bronzed by the sun, their hair rich and thick like a lion's mane, and their eyes, large and glistening, held an otherworldly allure. They embodied beauty and fully embraced their heritage.

But Adam was different.

On the morning of his tenth birthday, Adam awoke with a peculiar excitement. A strange, burning sensation churned deep within his gut, coiling up into his chest. Lying beneath the lush red-and-green feathered blankets his grandmother had lovingly woven, his lips curled into a broad grin. Eagerly, he kicked the blankets aside, rolled off the bed's edge, and raced to the mirror. Practically bouncing on his pear-shaped feet, he twirled before the mirror, eyes wide with anticipation, searching for any telltale wisps of smoke rising from his skin—the first sign of the ash-fall. But there was nothing.

Adam's reflection stared back at him, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. Leaning closer to the glass, he tugged lightly at the soft padding of his cheek.

"I've gone grey," he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Straightening his young body, Adam twisted and turned, desperately trying to glimpse his form from every angle. There was no steam, no smoke, no ethereal transformation seeping through his flesh. No glittering specks of lava freckles adorned his skin—another sign of the ash-fall. Instead, he looked... burnt out.

"Why?" he muttered, a deep frown etching across his face as he took a step back. His shoulders sagged, arms falling limply at his sides. "Why am I...?"

The morning was spent in a frantic attempt to disguise his appearance. He wasn't meant to look like a fire that had sputtered out before ever truly igniting. Adam bundled himself in thick, oversized sweaters, a medical mask, and a woolly hat, gloves, and scarf to match. When his mother saw him, she laughed, trying to peel away the layers, but Adam resisted until his father intervened, scolding him. Apparently, it was dangerous to be wrapped up so tightly.

He would never forget the look on their faces when they finally saw him. The horror, the tears, the screams—they had cut him deeply. Before his tenth birthday, his parents had been loving and attentive, their days filled with family outings and warmth. But everything changed after that fateful day.

Adam became the family's failure—the one who couldn’t burn like his cousins. Even Elly, his younger cousin, had her ash-fall the following month. His mother had broken down in tears that day too. No matter what Adam did, it never seemed to bring a smile to his mother’s face or draw his father's gaze.

Was he truly such a disappointment?

By the time he turned eleven, when no one even bothered to acknowledge him, Adam had begun to wander away from the family fire. He ventured through the oversized, thick branches and towering trunks of the forest he called home—Eden, the forest of flames, nestled at the leftmost point of Pentagram City. All his life, Adam had been repeatedly warned never to leave Eden.

The world beyond was far too dangerous for someone as fragile as him; his flame would be easily extinguished, or worse, stronger and more terrifying creatures would snatch him away. His mother had always assured him that once he experienced his ash-fall, he would be free to explore the city like everyone else... but that day never came. He was weaker than anyone imagined, more delicate than they had feared, and now, no one would care if he disappeared. No one noticed as the little, scrawny ash boy slipped away from the gathering of families and neighbouring clans.

Sniffling, Adam inched forward, his flat, grey feet sliding over the warm, red bark of the thick branches. He moved cautiously, with the delicate care of someone who knew that a single misstep could be his last. He had no fiery wings to catch him if he fell. A broken bone would mean certain death, for no one would come to save him—he’d be left to perish alone.

Adam had heard stories of Pentagram City and the beings that lived within it. Pressing himself against the trunk of a flame tree, he peered into the quaint countryside just beyond Eden. Scattered across the landscape were large red rocks that gradually gave way to the more structured outlines of a city. Squinting, Adam spotted a towering temple at the city's heart. It appeared to be made of stone, but from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.

He could see little else from his vantage point. Adam knew that Pentagram City had five points, with Eden being one of them. The other four points housed powerful clans of other beings, and the closer they lived to the temple, the more numerous and lesser the creatures became.

According to what little he had heard, a god resided in that temple, but Adam knew nothing about the deity or its role in Pentagram City. Did this god rule the city? His curiosity gnawed at him as he continued to stare at the distant structure, hoping for a glimpse of something—anything—divine. But there was nothing.

Sighing deeply, Adam let his head fall against the tree, his eyes drooping with a deep, sorrowful frown. He knew he should return; if he stayed away too long, he’d be forgotten, and no food would be saved for an ugly bird like him. His lips trembled as the thought crossed his mind, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. A sob escaped his lips...but something cut through his cry.

Adam blinked in surprise, straightening as he rubbed his grey lips together. He glanced around, his heart racing. He could suddenly hear a strange sound.

Adam pursed his flat lips, tilting his head as he strained to catch the sound again. It was like singing—a soft, whistle-like tune, reminiscent of the birds that flitted among the branches of Eden. His wide eyes darted around the trees, scanning the fiery foliage for any sign of who—or what—was making that eerie melody. But the sound wasn’t coming from above, where the branches intertwined like a tangled web of flames. It was coming from below.

With cautious, tentative steps, Adam edged closer to the red branch's edge and peered down at the golden, knee-length grass that blanketed the ground far below. The grass shimmered under the harsh glare of the white sun, each blade sparkling like a thread of liquid gold in the light. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Would anyone notice—or even care—if he dared to climb down? They had always drummed it into him: never set foot on the ground until your wings had formed or at least until a few feathers had sprouted from your arms.

But then again, nobody would care. He was the disappointment, the one who would never fly.

Determined, Adam inched forward, but everything happened so fast. His vision blurred as his foot slipped, sending him tumbling down the bark of the giant tree. The flame trees were far from smooth; their surface was gnarled and blistering, scorching his skin as he skidded downward. His body scraped against the rough bark, his descent a painful blur, until he hit the ground with a sickening crack. His feet throbbed with pain, and he shakily inspected them—a bitter reminder that they were still soft and delicate, not the sharp talons his family bore with pride. His uncle's sneering words echoed in his mind: pathetic.

A gasp escaped Adam, his body aching all over, his arms limp and unresponsive. It took everything in him just to sit up, and when he did, tears flooded his eyes. His uncle’s jarring, smug voice rang in his ears, scolding him for being so foolish. No one would care—they would only find sick amusement in his accident.

A soft, strangled sob slipped from his lips, slow and tentative at first. His face crinkled, scrunching up as the overwhelming wave of sadness crashed down, twisting painfully in his chest until it finally burst forth. Adam let out another gasp, his sobs growing more desperate, his tears falling in a relentless stream over his ash-grey cheeks. He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and buried his face, sobbing into the crook of his arms.

Everything poured out of him—the disappointment of not burning from the inside like all the others before him, the sense of failure that gnawed at him every day. The way his mother looked at him now, with a hollow sadness that tore at his heart, and the way his father couldn’t even bear to glance in his direction. His cousins, aunts, and uncles, their cutting comments and cold stares. The way the elders had dismissed him, deeming him unworthy to be paired with another in the clan. Typically, the year after an ash-fall, the elders would pair them up, but Adam had been brushed aside, not even a consideration.

The more he cried, the harder it became to stop. He felt as though he might choke on his tears, as though the sadness would consume him entirely. Eden was quiet, the ever-burning inner flames of the trees casting a warm, flickering light around him, but it felt so distant, so cold.

“Why are you crying?” a sudden voice asked, cutting through the haze of his despair.

Adam’s breath hitched. He squirmed, peering up through tear-filled eyes at the figure standing over him, staring down with glassy red-and-gold eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—only more tears.

The figure appeared to be young, about his age, perhaps eleven. They were shorter than Adam, which was surprising given that he was often teased for being small. The stranger let out a quiet sigh and carefully sat down beside him, not so close that their elbows would brush, but not so far that Adam felt completely alone.

Adam continued to cry, his sobs echoing softly in the golden grass. The stranger stayed with him, silent and still, their gaze fixed on the swaying blades that shimmered in the gentle breeze. After what felt like an eternity, the figure finally tilted their head toward Adam, extending a hand that hovered hesitantly above his trembling shoulders before finally resting there. They began to rub his back in small, slow circles.

“There, there,” they murmured, their voice flat, almost emotionless. “There, there, don’t cry.”

Adam continued to sob, his tears soaking into the earth as he curled into himself, trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. The small hand resting on his back was oddly warm, a gentle contrast to the cold world around him. The warmth was even more surprising considering Adam’s lineage, his bloodline intertwined with the very essence of fire.

When his sobs didn’t subside, the mysterious figure beside him made a low, soothing sound deep in their throat. They shifted closer to Adam, their stiff hand continuing its rhythmic motion along his back. With a soft, deliberate motion, they straightened and tilted their head skyward, cherry-red lips parting ever so slightly. A familiar melody, one that Adam had heard before, slipped from their lips, echoing through the quiet streets of Eden, the flickering heart of Pentagram City. The stranger’s voice was enchanting, a gentle hum that filled the air with a comforting warmth, even in the darkest corners of the city.

Adam blinked through his tears, rubbing his hands over his tear-streaked face. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze wandering wearily around before settling on the figure beside him. He sniffled, trying to blink away the lingering sadness, as he watched the stranger sing softly, their voice wrapping around him like a tender embrace. For the first time, Adam felt a comfort so deep, it was as if the very air around him had transformed into a protective cocoon, holding him in a way he had never known.

The person beside him was unlike anyone Adam had ever seen in Eden. They seemed to belong to a different world entirely. Their skin was a pale, milky white, with a delicate flush of red framing their cheeks. Golden, fluffy curls crowned their head, with two tufts of hair playfully resembling horns. Their lips, full and stained a deep cherry red, contrasted strikingly with their mismatched eyes—one a gleaming gold, the other a deep crimson. Adam’s gaze drifted down their form, noticing the black and green claws adorned with rings of lush crimson feathers at their wrists. As he looked further, he saw green and red feathers peeking out before spilling around their hips, forming a long, soft-looking tail in place of feet. Scales of blue, red and white blended well into the tail.

“Do you feel better?” the stranger, now clearly a boy, asked, his voice soft and melodic.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes catching Adam’s. A mesmerizing array of green, blue, and purple scales shimmered across his neck, trailing up to his pointed ears, making him appear even more otherworldly and enchanting.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in a way it never had before. He had never laid eyes on a creature so mesmerizing, so otherworldly. The boy was beautiful, ethereal in a way that made Adam’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He quickly rubbed his face with both hands, trying to hide the flush that spread across his skin, and managed a weak, shaky smile.

“Yeah, um, who... what...” Adam’s voice faltered, his words stumbling as his mind raced to catch up. His brows knitted together in confusion. “I mean, what are you?”

The boy snorted softly, his long, colourful tail flicking to the side with a playful grace. His lips curved into a deeper frown, and for a fleeting moment, Adam glimpsed two sharp fangs peeking out from behind those cherry-red lips. “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? Asking someone’s breed like that.”

“Oh!” Adam squeaked in horror, his eyes widening with panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But before Adam could finish his apology, a ghost of a smile twisted across the boy’s lips, and a low, rumbling laugh escaped him.

“I know. You’re just a baby,” he said, his tone gentle, almost teasing, as if Adam’s innocent curiosity amused him.

Adam blinked furiously, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words. The boy beside him tilted his head slightly, a sly smile playing on his lips as his gold and red eyes flickered across Adam’s face.

“I can tell you’ve never left your home before,” he mused, his voice smooth and knowing. “You’ve never seen anyone outside your clan, let alone someone like me. If you knew who you were talking to, you’d probably be beside yourself.”

“Huh?” Adam pouted, his confusion deepening. “Are you someone important, then?”

“Something like that,” the boy replied, rolling one glittering, scaled shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. Adam’s eyes immediately zoned in on the vibrant scales and feathers, captivated by their brilliance.

 “Why were you crying?” the boy asked, his tone softening slightly.

Adam lowered his head, leaning back against the crimson bark of the tree behind him. “Because I’m a failure,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy hummed thoughtfully; his head cocked to the side as if genuinely puzzled by Adam’s admission. His gold and ruby eyes half-lidded, slowly roving up and down Adam’s plain form. He clicked his tongue, revealing a long, serpent-like tongue that flickered between his lips. “Because you haven’t burned away like the others in your clan?” he asked, his tone curious rather than judgmental.

“You know about my family?” Adam asked, his curiosity piqued. How could this boy, who appeared younger than himself, know about his clan? Adam shook his head, his voice trembling as he continued, “I didn’t... I was supposed to transform last year, but I didn’t. I look... like this.”

Adam glared down at his powdery grey arms, turning them over with a disdainful frown. He loathed the sight of them, so dull and lifeless compared to the vibrant flames his kind was known for. Even the green in his eyes had faded to a milky white, making him feel like a shadow of what he was supposed to be. He understood why everyone made fun of him—he was ugly, unremarkable, and utterly forgettable.

“Nobody will ever want to mate with me,” he added, his voice thick with pain. His eyes began to water again as he spoke. “I’m ignored, pushed aside. Nobody wants to be my friend. My Ma and Pa can’t even look at me. I’m going to die alone. It won’t matter if I present as an Omega in the coming years. I’m undesirable. I didn’t burn. I didn’t turn to ash, and I certainly wasn’t reborn. I’m just... a fire that smothered itself before it could even burn.”

The boy was silent for a long moment, his blank gaze fixed on Adam. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft hiss. “You will be an Omega?”

“Probably,” Adam replied, his tone hollow. “But it won’t matter to my elders. They haven’t even bothered to find me a match. I was supposed to have one this year so I could bond with them.”

Adam’s hands trembled as he spoke, his breath hitching painfully. His nose flared, and his lips quivered as the weight of his loneliness pressed down on him. Just as the first tear slipped down his grey cheek, the boy’s long, snake-like tongue darted out, licking it away. Adam jerked in surprise, his eyes widening as he looked at the beautiful boy beside him.

The boy’s black and green scaled claws gently wrapped around Adam’s hands, pulling them close to his face. He examined them intently, rubbing his claws along Adam’s fingers, pinching and turning them over as if searching for something hidden. His clawed hands then moved up Adam’s arms, seeming to probe for something unknown to Adam.

The boy’s golden and ruby eyes met Adam’s as his claws trailed over Adam’s shoulders and pressed down gently on his chest. A spark ignited in his eyes as he felt the steady beat of Adam’s heart beneath his touch.

“Just because you didn’t go through the ashfall doesn’t mean you are undesirable,” the boy said sternly, yet with a tender undercurrent to his words. “I don’t find you unpleasant to look at. In fact, I find you... interesting.”

“You do?” Adam whispered shyly, a shiver running up his spine at the boy’s words.

The boy nodded sharply, slithering closer. His beautiful tail flexed as he raised himself slightly above Adam, his face drawing nearer. “As for dying alone, I don’t believe that will happen.”

“How would you know? Nobody in my clan would want to bond with me,” Adam said shakily, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

“I never mentioned your clan,” the boy replied darkly, his eyes growing hooded and glassy. His long, serpentine tongue slithered through his lips once more, licking firmly down Adam’s cheek. “From this moment on, I will be your mate.”

Adam couldn’t speak, his mind practically short-circuiting. His skin prickled with sensation as his head tilted back, the boy beginning to rub his cheek against Adam’s in a possessive gesture, scenting him fully. Adam’s heart skipped a beat as he imagined returning to the nest with the boy’s scent on him. What would his family say? What would everyone think? But those thoughts melted away as the boy’s sweet, intoxicating scent filled Adam’s senses, wrapping around him like a warm blanket and making him relax.

“I think you’re a beautiful Phoenix, whether you have burned or not,” the boy purred softly, nuzzling into the crook of Adam’s neck.

“I’m Adam!” the unburned Phoenix blurted out, the words slipping past his lips before he could think. “What’s your name?”

The boy chuckled, pulling back to look Adam in the eye. For the first time, Adam saw a true smile on his lips, his mismatched eyes growing tender with emotion.

“Don’t forget your mate’s name. My name is—”

Then, as if caught in a dream, the gorgeous boy’s voice began to fade, dissolving into a soft, melodic hum that barely reached Adam's ears. The words, the name, everything slipped away like sand through his fingers. Adam remained seated there, at the very edge of Eden, as the world around him blurred, the sharp edges of reality growing hazy and distant. He blinked once, then twice, his gaze drifting in bewilderment as confusion clouded his mind. A deep groan escaped him, and he pressed a trembling hand to his temple, trying to make sense of what was happening.

But in the next breath, everything shifted. The vibrant colours and strange warmth of the encounter melted away, and Adam found himself waking up in his bed, nestled within one of the intersection buildings of Pentagram City. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him, though the memory of the boy and that strange, fleeting connection lingered like a fading whisper in the corners of his mind.

The blaring shriek of his alarm clock sliced through Adam's skull like a jagged knife, but he didn't rush to silence it. Instead, he lingered in the moment, his pale, almost ghostly eyes fixed on the worn and cracked ceiling above him. Time seemed to stretch as he allowed his body to awaken slowly, letting the dull hum of the city seep into his consciousness. The buzz of distant traffic and the occasional honk gradually filtered through his fogged senses. Finally, with a languid roll, he turned to his side and slammed his hand down on the alarm clock, the sharp sound abruptly cut off. A low groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His tousled brown hair stuck out in wild directions, and a sheen of sweat clung to his clammy skin. He was naked, tangled in a cocoon of blankets, quilts, pillows, and sheets—the softest of his belongings—some of which even included his old hoodies and sweaters, adding to the haphazard nest of comfort surrounding him.

Adam groaned again, raising his arms above his head as he stretched, his spine crackling with the motion. He dragged a weary hand across his face, releasing a heavy sigh just as the brief silence was shattered by the blaring music from above. The familiar sound brought with it the knowledge that his neighbours were at it again—lovers wrapped in their passionate dance, the Omega upstairs a notorious screamer, their cries cutting through the walls even with the music attempting to drown them out.

Grunting in irritation, Adam swung himself out of bed and trudged towards his ancient chest of drawers, their surface as battered and worn as everything else in his room. He kicked aside a few pillows and sheets that cluttered his path and yanked open the top drawer. Inside, a pink and white box sat waiting. He pulled out a slender stick from within and slipped it into his mouth, holding it beneath his tongue. He knew it would take ten minutes to work, though he could have shortened the time by using his Omega-Hood privileges, but Adam wasn’t about to take the easy way out.

His tired eyes, heavy with a burden that seemed older than his years, found his reflection in the cracked mirror propped on top of the drawers. The fissure ran down the left side, spider-webbing across the surface, distorting his already grim visage. Adam stared at himself, a grunt rumbling in his chest. Nothing had changed in the passing years; his skin remained ashen, his eyes still a lifeless grey, and his hair, brittle and dull, like leaves about to crumble in the wind. Beauty had eluded him, like the sun had missed him entirely while showering its warmth on the newborn Phoenix eggs.

His gaze drifted to the old, tattered calendar taped back together and hanging limply on the wall. His eyes were immediately drawn to the red mark on today's date, a small but significant reminder.

"Officially, I'm twenty," he murmured, pulling the stick from his mouth and holding it up to the dim light filtering through his dirty window. The glass was so filthy that even if it were the brightest, sunniest day, the view outside would still seem drab and lifeless.

The stick revealed four little green lines, and Adam let out a sigh of relief. "Perfect. My heat's over."

He tossed the stick into the trash bin with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention back to the remnants of his nest. He had already begun dismantling it, pillows and sheets scattered carelessly from his restless sleep. It looked forlorn and abandoned now, a poor excuse for what a Phoenix nest was supposed to be. His mother, may her soul rest in peace, would surely be turning in her grave at the sight of it. Adam couldn't help but feel the weight of her disapproval, even from beyond.

Ruffling his sweat-dampened hair, Adam felt the burn in his arms and legs as he began the tedious task of cleaning up after his heat. Each movement was a reminder of the exhaustion that still clung to his bones, but he pressed on, gathering up the nest he had meticulously built. Quilts, blankets, and pillows—all the soft, comforting things he had surrounded himself with—were tossed into the laundry basket, destined for a much-needed wash later today. The bed was next, stripped of its sheets with a practiced efficiency. He unclipped the Omega mattress protector, scrunching it into a ball before shoving it into a trash bag, another item to discard when he had the strength to face the world outside his small flat.

The air was thick with the remnants of his heat, a musky scent that clung stubbornly to the walls and furniture. Adam grabbed the air freshener, spraying it liberally around the cramped space, as if trying to erase every trace of the past week. He threw open the small, barely functional windows, letting the stale air escape, carried away by the weak breeze that drifted in from the city.

By the time he was done, the clock was inching towards noon, and the mated pair upstairs were still lost in their passionate tangle. The Omega’s moans and whimpers echoed through the thin ceiling, a constant reminder of what Adam had yet to experience. He found the Omega undeniably cute, with a charm that tugged at something deep inside him, but no matter how attractive he found them, the endless stream of exotic cries grated on his nerves. It was hard to ignore, and harder still to find any solace in it.

Eager to wash away the remnants of his heat, Adam stepped into his tiny, run-down shower. The water, predictably cold, cascaded over his body, but he didn’t mind. The chill was invigorating, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had consumed him for days. He scrubbed his skin, rough and thorough, determined to rid himself of the sweat and Omega fluids that clung to him like an unwanted second skin. He twisted and arched his back, trying to work out the knots that had formed during his restless sleep. The cheap soap and shampoo did little to soothe his senses, but it was enough to make him feel somewhat human again.

Stepping out, Adam shivered as the cold air hit his damp skin, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Even as an unburned Phoenix, the flame within his chest would soon chase away the chill, warming him from the inside out. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror again, and a grimace tugged at his lips. He looked like a drowned rat, his hair plastered to his face in wet, lifeless strands, the same dull, powdery grey that never seemed to change.

But as always, after his heat, his hands drifted to his chest, pressing against the spot where his Phoenix flame resided. A shudder rippled through him, his entire body prickling with the memory of a boy who had once promised to mate him. The boy had touched him there, right over the flame, as if to reassure himself that it was still burning inside Adam, still waiting for the day it would ignite into something more.

A sigh escaped Adam's lips, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and unfulfilled promises.

The boy had vowed to mate with Adam when they both came of age, promising that Adam would never have to 'die alone' as he had always feared. Adam had been utterly captivated, lost in the daze of the boy’s pheromones that clung to him like a second skin for a full six months before they finally faded away. When Adam returned home that evening, his clan had been mildly surprised by the unusual scent lingering on him, but when the boy failed to make another appearance, they dismissed it as a fleeting act of pity. A moment of kindness from someone who, perhaps, simply felt sorry for him.

It was a thought that haunted Adam daily. Had the boy truly only felt sorry for him? The exchange of scents, though powerful, was harmless before the age of eighteen, a promise that only became permanent with the passage into adulthood. But the boy had never returned, not even when Adam crossed that crucial threshold into his eighteenth year. Eventually, the hope that had once flickered so brightly inside him dimmed until it was nothing more than a dying ember. It had been a lovely dream, a beautiful fantasy.

But Adam would never forget the boy. He had been mesmerizing, almost otherworldly. Adam had always believed the boy to be a young Naga, certain of it because of the serpentine tongue, the sharp fangs, and the tail that marked his kind. But after leaving Eden on his eighteenth birthday—driven by a desperate need to escape the suffocating presence of his family—Adam had encountered countless Nagas. Some were nearly as beautiful as the boy, but they all shared the same dark, muted colours: deep emeralds, midnight blues, and such dark reds that they bordered on black. Not one of them had the vibrant, luminous hues that the boy possessed. Nor did they bear a single feather.

This discrepancy troubled Adam deeply. He had scoured the ancient tomes in Pentagram City’s library, searching through histories and bestiaries, trying to identify what breed the boy might have been, but the answer remained elusive. The few times he had been brave enough to describe the boy to someone else, they had looked at him as though he had lost his mind. The disbelief in their eyes stung, and eventually, Adam stopped speaking about the mystery boy altogether. He forced himself to write it off as a fleeting encounter with a kind stranger who had noticed a child’s tears and acted on a momentary impulse.

Even so, the memory lingered, like a thorn embedded too deep to remove without drawing blood. The boy’s ethereal beauty, his enchanting presence, where things Adam could never fully let go of, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was all just a dream.

Shaking off the lingering thoughts, Adam hurried out of his cramped bathroom and began dressing in clean clothes. He glanced at the overflowing laundry basket and groaned deeply. He hated this part—washing everything after his heat was not only a tedious chore but also an expensive one. It would cost him nearly fifty marrows, almost half of his paycheck, a price that weighed heavily on him. But he had no choice. He needed those fabrics, especially with summer approaching. If he went back into heat without them, it would be disastrous.

Dressed in an oversized green and red sweater that reminded him of the mystery boy’s feathers, and a pair of worn leggings, Adam grabbed the laundry basket with a firm grip and left his flat. He walked briskly, hoping to avoid running into the persistent Minotaur Alpha who prowled the apartment building. The Alpha had pursued Adam relentlessly, ignoring every rejection. His advances were aggressive, his intentions clear, but Adam knew better than to fall for the ploys of someone who only saw him as a conquest.

As an untouched Omega, Adam naturally emitted a scent that drew potential mates, especially other Omegas. Unfortunately, it mostly attracted the wrong kind—lowlifes who didn’t care about his failed Phoenix status. Respectful Alphas, Omegas, or even Betas wouldn’t approach someone like him. They knew better.

Relief washed over him as he entered the building’s laundry room and found it blessedly empty. Not even another Omega was using the machines. Perfect. This meant he could finish quickly and get back to the safety of his flat. He chose the washing machine in the farthest corner, placing his basket on top of the worn, cream-pink dispenser box, and then turned to survey the Omega laundry products.

There were countless options, each one more expensive than the last. Omegas required their fabrics to be soft, cuddly, and soothing to their sensitive skin, but this necessity came at a painful cost. Times like these made Adam wish he had presented as a regular Beta instead. As he scanned the shelves, his lips twisted into a frustrated pout. He clicked a few buttons on the dispenser, scrolling through strips of powders, washing cubes, and other options until he finally reached the heat detergent.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the updated price, disbelief flooding his system.

"They raised the price again?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers twitched as he pulled out his battered wallet, prying it open to count his meagre supply of marrows. "I can afford it... but it's going to make things tight until my next pay check..."

With a resigned sigh, Adam slipped the necessary marrows into the slot. The price was almost three-quarters of his pay, leaving him with barely enough to survive. He would have to go without food for a few days, but this was a non-negotiable expense. If he didn't wash his things, he wouldn't be able to face another heat, let alone the encroaching winter.

Reluctantly, Adam fed the shards of bone marrow into the machine and began the laborious task of washing the fabrics that had formed his nest. It took a few hours, each minute dragging by as he waited for the cycle to complete. Once finished, he practically ran back to his flat, the weight of his cleaned belongings both a comfort and a reminder of the price he had paid.

~#~

The air in Pentagram City hung dry and brittle, a result of the relentless drought that preceded the looming summer. Unlike the rest of the world, their seasons defied reason—twelve months without a drop of rain, only to be drenched by a year's worth of torrential downpours over two relentless months. Beneath the city's surface, a labyrinth of ancient tunnels crisscrossed, designed to collect and distribute this precious deluge throughout the city. Or so they claimed. But the truth behind Pentagram City's water supply held darker secrets.

Adam’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the temple at the city’s heart, a monolithic structure that dominated the landscape, casting a permanent shadow over the five points of the city. It was an ominous sentinel, its presence forbidding and absolute. No one dared approach the temple. The stones that formed its foundation were hallowed, forbidden to be tread upon by any living soul. The city’s construction ended abruptly in the temple’s vicinity, leaving a barren expanse marked by ancient altars and crumbling pillars—sacrificial grounds that held the weight of centuries-old rituals.

Adam swallowed hard as he stood at the very edge of the city’s bounds, staring into the desolate expanse of the sacrificial lands. Though he had never witnessed a sacrifice, the grim tales and ironclad rules had been seared into his consciousness, an unshakeable knowledge that permeated every citizen's bone and blood. The time for a sacrificial offering was fast approaching, an event anticipated by every inhabitant of the city with a mix of dread and resignation. No one knew who would be chosen, but the offering was essential, a grim necessity to appease the ruler—the unseen protector of Pentagram City. A pact had been forged between the temple and the city’s founders centuries ago, a contract written in blood and shadow.

Adam bit his bottom lip, turning away from the looming temple. His gaze shifted to the stone statues that lined the boundary walls, their presence a silent warning to all who might dare to trespass into the sacrificial lands. The statues varied in form—some were massive, hulking figures with jagged edges, while others were small, smooth, and eerily delicate. The memory of the first time he had seen them remained vivid; a moment of sheer terror etched permanently into his mind.

The first time Adam had laid eyes on the God that watched over Pentagram City—the ancient protector who demanded sacrificial blood in exchange for life-giving water—he had nearly fainted. The memory of that moment still haunted him, a visceral experience that defied explanation. When he saw the statue, it was as though the earth had trembled beneath him, his vision blurring as a wave of fear and awe coursed through him.

And yet, as always, Adam found himself drawn to the carved effigy, like a moth helplessly circling a flame. A dull ache burned in his chest, and an elusive pressure gnawed at the edges of his mind, just beyond his grasp. The God of Pentagram City was a force unlike any other, a being so powerful that the temple had sprung into existence by mere thought alone. Crafted from massive stones of gold, ruby, and black, the temple was adorned with seven hidden emeralds beneath its foundation and seven more atop its spires. Legend held that the stones beneath connected to the world beneath the sea, where creation itself was born and where it would inevitably end. The stones above were said to channel the light of the heavens. Their God, a serpent-like entity, could move effortlessly between these realms, bringing with it waves of unnatural energy that pulsed through the city.

The God’s form was a blend of the serpentine and the divine—a colossal snake with wings lining its back, a face somewhere between a dragon’s and a bird’s. Feathers carved from stone trailed down its head, looping up its immense wings and down its tail, which ended in twin rattles. The underbelly was a shield of impenetrable scales. Though countless paintings and toys depicted the God’s likeness, none truly captured its terrifying presence. It had been over ten thousand years since the last blood sacrifice, but the signs were clear. The city was drier than ever, and the skies refused to yield rain. The God’s return was imminent, and with it, the cycle of sacrifices would begin anew. Only when the quota was met would the serpent God spread its wings and allow the rains to fall again, ensuring Pentagram City’s protection for another era.

Adam raised a hand, tentatively reaching toward one of the six feathered wings carved into the stone. This was why people thought he was mad. The mysterious boy who had once vowed to mate with him had a striking resemblance to their God—a likeness that seemed impossible. The God was not a mere boy, and it certainly had six wings. Adam’s mother had been furious when he refused to admit he had invented the boy, but he hadn’t! The boy was real. But Adam’s stubborn belief had only brought shame upon his family, leading his mother to commit an unforgivable act.

“What are you doing?” a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

Adam recoiled, his hand snapping back as if stung by the very air. His cheeks burned with a deep, humiliating flush, his fingers twisting together in a desperate attempt to contain his nerves. He forced a wide, exaggerated grin onto his face, though it wavered at the edges, barely masking his unease as the figure approached. “Nothing! Just admiring our lord and saviour!” he blurted, the words tumbling out too fast, too forced.

Lilith’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, slicing through his facade with terrifying ease. “I’ve told you never to touch those,” she hissed, her voice cold and unforgiving. The intensity of her glare made Adam instinctively step back, his bravado crumbling. “This isn’t just about your twisted obsession with our Deity. No one is allowed to touch the statues of Quetzalcoatl.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to the statues, their stone faces impassive, indifferent to his suffering. A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he wilted under Lilith’s icy disapproval. The guards stationed nearby seemed to close in, their presence suffocating. They were there to ensure that no one, not even a fool like Adam, would defile the sacred ground. The punishment for such a transgression was brutal, swift—beheading by the very guards who now watched him with thinly veiled contempt.

Lilith’s voice cut through the tense air, her frustration palpable. “I’m tired of turning a blind eye,” she growled, her tone low and dangerous. “Our past can only shield you for so long, Adam. One day, someone else will be on duty, and they won’t hesitate to take your head off.”

Desperation clawed at Adam, and he forced a teasing smile onto his face, though it felt more like a grimace. “Have I mentioned how sexy you are when you’re angry?” he quipped, his voice strained, pleading for a reaction that would soften the moment.

Lilith’s expression twisted in disgust. “Not even in your nightmares,” she spat, her words like poison.

Adam flinched but pushed forward, clinging to the hope that something, anything, could pierce her icy exterior. “Why not?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his hope.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lilith replied, her tone colder than ever. Her icy-blue eyes raked over him, each glance a cut. “Who would ever consider dating a burnout like you? You’re not even a real Phoenix.”

The words struck him like a physical blow, but Adam forced himself to keep smiling. He fumbled in his pocket, his hands shaking, and pulled out a small, sparkling stone. “I found something for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It reminded me of you.”

Lilith’s gaze hardened as she stared at the stone, her lips curling into a sneer. “I don’t want it. Why would I ever want something as tacky as that?”

Adam’s hand trembled violently now as he looked down at the stone, once so beautiful in his eyes. “I thought it was stunning,” he murmured, his voice hollow.

“It’s ugly,” Lilith snapped, her tone biting. “How many times do I have to tell you? I would never be interested in someone like you. I would never want you as my Omega. You’re pathetic, Adam. The other guards laugh at you every time they see you hanging around here, clinging to some delusion that I’d ever want to court you.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his vision blurring as he glanced back at the stone still in his hand. His arm, outstretched, felt frozen in time, a painful reminder of his foolish hopes. The whispers and sneers of the guards behind him echoed in his ears, a cruel chorus of his failure.

Lilith’s expression twisted into something darker as she snatched the stone from his hand, her nails scraping painfully against his skin. She held it up, barely glancing at it before locking her icy-blue eyes onto his. “This,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain, “is a terrible courting gift. If you were serious about trying to court me—which is laughable, by the way—this wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what’s required for the mating ritual. You’re the laughingstock of Pentagram City, Adam.”

“I-I…” Adam stammered, his heart constricting as Lilith carelessly tossed the stone over the wall of statues. It vanished in an instant, out of reach, gone forever.

Lilith’s patience snapped as she bared her fangs at him, stepping forward with a predatory grace. Her Alpha pheromones filled the air, suffocating him, forcing him to stumble back. “You can’t even handle a fully grown Alpha’s pheromones,” she snarled, her voice a low growl. “How could you ever hope to satisfy someone like me? And what’s worse, you’re not even a full Phoenix, Adam. There’s no passion in you, no true flame. You’re burnt out before you’ve even had a chance to ignite.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his world spinning as her words carved into him, each one leaving a deep, festering wound.

“We would never have worked,” Lilith continued, her voice unyielding. “I deserve better. So much better than… whatever you are.” With a sharp, decisive movement, she slammed her spear into the ground, the sound reverberating through the tense air. Her icy-blue eyes bore into him, and when Adam finally broke, bowing his head in submission, she relented with a sigh, almost rolling her eyes as she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“Adam, I get it,” she said, her voice softening slightly, but the damage was done. “I understand why you’re clinging to me. When we were children, I was your only friend, the only one who showed you kindness. I know how that must have seemed to you.”

Lilith paused, her expression hardening as if she were chiseling Adam’s fate in stone. “But you must accept it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. There’s nothing here for you, Adam. Nothing but pain.”

“We could never coexist together. Never. We are too different.” She clicked her tongue and took a step back, straightening her lean, sturdy form. Her body was a study in contrasts, her small waist giving way to thick, powerful hips and thighs that hinted at her lethal strength. Her chest was well-formed, her long golden hair streaked with black and grey that framed her face before fading back into gold. She was every inch the warrior, her beauty a deceptive mask for the predator beneath. “Maybe, if you had successfully burned as a Phoenix, there might have been a slim possibility. But since you haven’t, there is none at all. Absolutely nothing. We are far too different, and I am expected to birth strong offspring. My children are destined to continue the line of guardians for Quetzalcoatl’s temple.”

Her eyes locked onto Adam’s once more, and this time, he could see the sharp black slits within them, smaller blue eyes nestled within her primary ones, giving her a monstrous, otherworldly appearance. “Any offspring of yours would only bring shame and dishonor to my clan. Any children you produced with me would die the moment they left the nest, and I cannot bring such a curse upon my people.”

Adam swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he forced them into a tight, thin line. He nodded sharply, the truth of her words cutting deep. Lilith’s lineage was one of power, a female-only breed brought to life by Quetzalcoatl’s own webbing. They were guardians, trained from birth to fight and kill any who threatened their sacred charge. Adam had never seen Lilith’s true form, but he had glimpsed the warriors of Jorōgumo—deadly, alluring creatures who could transform from innocent beauty into deadly predator in the blink of an eye. They lured the unsuspecting with sweetness, only to devour them whole.

As a child, Adam had believed that Lilith cared for him, at least a little. She had never tried to devour him, never tried to ensnare him in her web like so many of her sisters and kin would have done to their ‘friends.’ She had been dismissive, yes, but she had also spent countless hours with him after he began venturing outside Eden. She had never once tried to lure him with sweet words or false promises, never tried to trick him into her web to be consumed. Adam had taken it as a sign that he was special, that their connection was special. But now, as her words sank in, he realized the truth: Lilith’s indifference was not a mark of affection, but of disinterest.

A true sign of love among the Jorōgumo was to be devoured after mating, to become sustenance for the next generation.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered weakly, the words barely audible over the roar of his own despair.

Lilith scoffed, her grip tightening around her spear. “Don’t be sorry. Just leave me alone. You’ve never been worth anything to me, let alone as a mate. Get your head out of the clouds.”

Adam nodded, a slow, defeated motion. He had hoped, perhaps against reason, that she might say something more, that there might be some spark of tenderness, however small. But Lilith’s icy-blue eyes remained fixed on him, glaring with a finality that chilled him to the bone. Realizing she had finished with him, that she needed him to leave, Adam offered a sheepish smile, his last shred of dignity, before scrambling past her and fleeing toward the city.

His eyes flickered to the other Jorōgumo women watching him, each one a vision of lethal beauty with golden and red curls framing faces of icy-blue indifference. Their gazes trailed after him, uninterested, as they began to whisper amongst themselves. He could feel their mocking laughter, even though they barely acknowledged his existence.

“I’m not gonna cry,” Adam muttered to himself, his voice breaking as he forced his legs to move faster. “I’m not gonna cry.”

But the pain clawed at him, a raw wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The Jorōgumo were a dominant breed, their ranks filled with Alphas and few Omegas. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t disguise themselves as an Omega to lure their prey. It hurt more than he could bear to know that Lilith, the one he had foolishly hoped might see something in him, viewed him as nothing more than a speck of dirt on her perfectly polished boot.

“It hurts,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he ran, the snickers of the Jorōgumo echoing in his mind. “It hurts so much.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” he repeated, the mantra hollow and meaningless as the tears he refused to shed stung his eyes.

“I’m gonna die alone.”

[crime-bot]

also el respiro de la tierra (tlatecuhtli) by cemican (based on music only not the lyrics cause idk spanish and i especially do not know the aztec language), got the life, dead bodies everywhere, & twisted transistor all by korn (based on music and lyrics), voodoo mon amour by diablo swing orchestra (music and lyrics), body hammer by fear factory (music mainly but also some lyrics), & the hand that feeds by nine inch nails (music + lyrics) + a lot more songs i cant think of right now are so the bm band au i told you about.. i can essentially hear goro screaming along to the korn especially. i need robbie daymond (goros eng va) to do a cover. i know he did a cover of a song as goro with akira's va xander mobus.. also if you do not know goro's beta black mask outfit check that out because in a lot of my works i use it (especially for the masquerade band au.. just fixed some things like the mask changes to the opposite of his facial expression. his frown is the mask's smile, etc. his beta outfit is so prettier than his actual black mask outfit and i get his actual black mask outfit is a direct reference to mordred from king arthur mythology (mordred is ... basically robinhood's Black Mask. i think i mentioned him before) and it's the colors of the gay bdsm flag (coincidence? maybe.) but.. sigh. his beta one gives him more personality.

ough, writing that shit down to listen on a rainy day. Another song I can imagine him and the Black Masks performing is In Cauda Venenum by The Dear Hunter (very wild... not sure whether or not they'd keep in the end).

If Daymond ever does another cover of something I will positively lose my shit!!!!

oh I'm gonna check that out rn... WHAT YO IT'S SO COOL??? May integrate this into the Rat Fic somehow....

[kaibutsushidousha]

Do you have any thoughts on the title for Lostbelt 7, Nahui Mictlan, implying that the story will be focused on Mesoamerican Mythology rather than South America? Personally, as someone of Peruvian descent, I'm pretty bummed that it implies it won't be taking place in the Andean-Amazon-Brazil regions of South America.

Mictlan is the Aztec Underworld. Nahui means age. The name refers to how the Aztec world lived under Nahui Ocelotl (age of the jaguar) ruled by Tezcatlipoca, but then Quetzalcoatl won their big battle and took over, ushering the world into Nahui Ehecatl (age of the wind).

So Age of the Underworld implies a world not ruled by Quetz nor Tez. And Kotomine mentioned ORT carrying the Xibalba on its back, so it could be the world ruled by ORT. This also strongly implies that all the alien microbes associated with Aztec gods by Quetz's profile come from him. And both forms of Quetz are associated with imagery of the meteor that killed the dinosaurs, so ORT was the meteor.

It's also established that pure-blooded dragons were present in the world long before the Age of Gods, but at an unspecified time for unspecified reasons, they escaped to the Earth’s interior, except for Albion who died trying. Add that to the facts that Kouyou has her T-Rex form based on Kuzuryuu and Anning’s content conflates dinos and dragons sometimes, and then it's very plausible that the pure-blooded dragons were the dinosaurs.

So, from what we've seen from Melusine in Avalon le Fae, this is what a dinosaur actually looks like:

Not feathered enough for my tastes, but that's still a good dino imo.

That's about it my Nahui Mictlan setting theories. It sucks that Amazon won't have genuinely Amazon content, but the Aztec content we're expected to get is more setting-original than genuinely Aztec, so we aren't exactly losing to anyone in the competition, if that somehow makes you feel any better.

[kuramirocket]

Let's start with not calling Malintzin a "consort" or concubine or lover or anything that implies some romantic relationship between her and Cortes--as shown in this ridiculously idealized image.

Cortes had a couple Spanish mistresses with him on his expedition. History ignores that fact, it's easier to go with the cliche of a romance between the white conqueror and Indigenous maiden, a kind of Pocahontas myth.

Marina/Malintzin (no one knows her original name) was a teenage sex slave given to Spaniards without previous knowledge of Anahuac geopolitics or city-state military logistics.

Since Cortes had brought at least two Spanish mistresses, at first he gave away the Indigenous girls given to him in tribute. These girls were more valuable to Cortes as gifts for his followers. Cortes’ ability to persuade his men depended on his ability to reward them.

Distributing Indigenous girls to Cortes’ men caused problems. Bernal Diaz complained in his memoir: “The finest of the Indian females had been set apart (by the captains), so that when it came to a division among us soldiers, we found none left but old and ugly women.”

After the Spaniards took Tenochtitlan in 1521, Cortes had coercive sexual relations with Malinche and Tecuichpo. Malinche bore Martin in 1523, and Tecuichpo bore Leonor in 1528. Both children were considered illegitimate but were officially acknowledged by their father.

Defenders and critics of Cortes agree that Cortes was a “womanizer.” Cortes had at least half a dozen children from his two marriages, plus another half-dozen with other women, mostly Indigenous girls. The enduring images of Cortes and Malinche as a romantic couple are nonsense.

Unfortunately, this nonsense continues in the latest retelling of the invasion of Mexico. "Hernan," a Spanish-centric TV series made in 2019, perpetuates this damaging myth.

Myths of Malinche

The story of the Aztec's downfall has often been told replete with myths — such as Cortés being mistaken for the returning deity Quetzalcoatl, or Moctezuma wearing green feathered headdresses. But it’s the translator Malinalli, commonly known as Malinche, who suffers most from mythologizing. History can't confirm that "Malinalli" was her original name, and even "Malinche" is a misnomer. 

With the emergence of the New Philology and New Conquest History revisionism of the 1970s, the myths surrounding the (in)famous La Malinche have been reexamined. Unfortunately, lazy research in many histories and essays on the subject continues to blur the line between fact and fiction. Here are some of the most common mistakes, rectified.

Out of the Frying Pan

Malinche’s entrance into the narrative of the conquest is confusingly portrayed from the start. Along with other young women, food, textiles, and gold, she was part of a tribute the Maya gave to the Spaniards after losing a battle. Most histories avoid facing the uncomfortable fact that these women were meant for sexual use. Instead, writers mention how the Maya brought food to the victorious Spaniards and gave them twenty women, one of whom was a teenage girl named Malinalli Tenepal (Malinche’s supposed original name), to “cook meals.”

The notion that those twenty girls were cooks originates with Cortés’ secretary, Francisco Gomara, who wrote one of only two histories based on firsthand accounts: “They brought [Cortés] twenty female slaves to bake bread and prepare meals for the army.” In his book Cortés, the Conqueror, Gomara tries to make his patron look good and plays down certain acts that may seem immoral.

But Cortés already had female cooks among the many Cuban servants in his expedition, and didn’t need more cooks. Gomara’s initial description of the girls’ purpose is pretext. Many commentators overlook a sentence elsewhere in Gomara’s account that reveals the girls’ true fate: Cortés “distributed the twenty slave women among the Spaniards as companions.”

Bernal Díaz, who wrote the other firsthand history, confirms that Indigenous girls were given as sex slaves to Spaniards on multiple occasions. Díaz even complains that the better looking girls went to captains, not common soldiers.

For these women, their destiny was to be mistresses or sexual slaves. On one hand, they were abducted by the Spanish, who took them away as companions. Some were given away as slaves or in the case of the nobility, as the 'wives' of the Spanish to create alliances. In any case, their destiny was not in their hands,” says Miriam López, a Dr. in Anthropology by the UNAM's Anthropological Research Institute.

The researcher adds that “La Malinche” was sold as a slave twice before she could show Hernán Cortés that she could translate, that “innate ability to understand different cultural contexts and learn new languages.”

Royal Relations

Díaz gives us interesting details about how the Spaniards reconciled their religious faith with their actions. How does Catholicism solve the problem of heathen sex slaves? Start with a baptism. Malinche was baptized as "Marina." After the girls were anointed and christened in a Catholic ceremony, Díaz reports, “Cortés gave one of them to each of his captains, and Marina [Malinalli/Malinche]… went to Alonso Hernández Puertocarrero.”

The baptism of Indigenous women was not uncommon and existed to ensure that sexual relations, no matter how forced, were within the purity of the Christian faith. Acts such as these remind us of the excuse of religion to ensure the oppression of non-Europeans during the era of colonialism.

The assigning of Malinche to Puertocarrero is a story unto itself. Puertocarrero was cousin to the Earl of Medellin of the Crown of Castile. As such, he was the closest thing to royalty on the expedition, and thus he was Cortés’ most favored captain. It was important to keep Puertocarrero happy. Malinche apparently stood out from the other girls — Díaz and some fragmentary testimonials attest to her proud bearing and intelligence. By assigning Malinche to Puertocarrero, Cortés was giving him the best of the girls as a political favor.

Ultimately, the arrangement also helped augment the story that La Malinche (Doña Marina to the Spanish) herself came from royal background, and therefore was capable of great deeds. Malinche’s storied noble ancestry may have begun as a joke about matchmaking a royally associated Spaniard with a royal "savage", but it ended with a legacy that rivals any fable.

The Plot That Wasn’t

After she was acquired by the Spanish, Malinche temporarily disappears from the written record. She was downplayed as an unnamed translator during meetings between Spaniards and Mexicans.

She pops up in the story again months later, when Gomara and Díaz say Malinche gave Cortés evidence that the Aztec-allied city of Cholula was plotting against the Spaniards. In actuality, Cortés had been planning an attack on Cholua and just needed an excuse. So Cortés told his men that Malinche informed him about a Cholulan plot to kill the Spaniards. This justified his attack on Cholula as a “preemptive” strike.

As far as we know today, Malinche did not provide any such information. Cortés pulled off an effective reversal by blaming his own actions on the Aztec and their allies, while also unknowingly laying the groundwork for Malinche’s reputation as a betrayer of her people.

The First Mestizo?

Another pervasive myth is that Cortés took Malinche as his concubine during the conquest, after Puertocarrero returned to Spain. But Cortés was given other girls during that time, including Moctezuma’s own daughter. There's evidence from historian Hugh Thomas that Cortés brought one or two of his Spanish mistresses from Cuba. For Cortés, females were replaceable, whereas Malinche was the only person who could translate and give Cortés diplomatic advice during meetings with the natives.

With an empire at stake, Cortés couldn’t risk having such a singularly important asset sidelined by pregnancy. Only after couple years after the fall of the Aztec capital did Malinche spend a brief time at Cortés’ home where he had coercive sexual relations with her. She became pregnant and was quickly married to another Spaniard.

Cortés’ son by Malinche, Martín, is often inaccurately cited as Mexico’s first mixed-race child or mestizo. Although we may never know for sure, that distinction most likely goes to the children of a Spanish castaway named Gonzalo Guerrero and the Maya princess Zazil Há.

Experts says that in time, Malintzin became the Cortés' sex slave: “He didn't show her affection and reduced her to 'the tongue,' as his translator, although she gave birth to his first son (Martín Cortés), who was recognized by the colonizer. Nevertheless, Cortés separated Martín and Marina to take him to Spain and she never saw him again.”

Guerrero was shipwrecked in 1511, cast ashore in the Yucatan with a dozen Spanish survivors. By the time Cortés’ fleet arrived eight years later, only Guerrero and one other Spaniard were still alive. (See Aztec Empire Episode One) Guerrero integrated himself with the Maya and had a family with the local chieftain’s daughter, never returning to the Spanish way of life.

Origin Myth

In the aftermath of the conquest, as Spain sought to strengthen its slim hold on this new empire, the story of Cortés and Doña Marina (Malinche) came to symbolize a romanticized version of the colonial relationship — and the birth of a new people. By contrast, Guerrero’s story was about a Spaniard who wholly converted to the local culture and whose status partly depended on his wife, which is not an empire-building narrative.

In her book La Malinche in Mexican Literature: From History to Myth, Sandra Cypess observes:

“By studying how the official discourse and the people have treated the two couples, we realize that the interactions between Malinche and Cortés became emblematic to indicate how the relations between European and indigenous should be. She is the woman who should act as subaltern and accept the language, culture, political and economic structures of man, not vice versa.”

No images of Malinche were created while she was alive — the only images we have of her are posthumous. Several Spanish illustrations and Spanish-commissioned native codices depict her with hair parted in the middle and worn loose to her shoulders, echoing the hairstyle of the Catholic Virgin Mary.

In reality, Malinche wore her hair in a traditional double-braid, as seen below.

Stereotyped portrayals of Malinche continue to this day, in some cases egregiously wrong, as seen in the below example from a 2016 Spanish TV series.

*edited 11/18/21 for the addition of more information.

Sources: (x) (x) (×)

[tallat-of-thralls]

Mesquite: The Tree of Life of the South West

"I could ask for no better monument over my grave than a good mesquite tree, its roots down deep like those of peace who belong to the soil, its hardy branches, leaves, and fruit holding memories of the soil..." J. Frank Dobie, Texas Writer

Overview

The name mesquite derives from the Hispansized word 'mizquitl'.

There are more than 40 species of mesquite trees found worldwide, at least 90 percent of which grow in Latin America, principally Argentina and Chile. Although mesquite also thrives in other arid regions such as those in Southwest North America, Africa, the Middle East, Tunisia, Algeria, India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Burma, Hawaii, West Indies, Russia, Puerto Rico, and Australia.

The tree itself comes in a variety of sizes depending on rain fall. Locations with higher rain fall note mesquite trees ranging from 40-50ft in height with a spread of nearly 40 feet or more. The branches are sparsely covered in thin feathery leaves with 2inch thorns growing at the base of the leaf joints.

This blog will mostly focus on Latin America; specifically in the Southwest Us and Texas.

There are seven varieties that cover one-third of the state of Texas or 56 million of the 167.5 million acres of land from the Rio Grande to the Panhandle, across central and north Texas and into much of west texas. Of all the US states 76 percent of mesquite wood grows in Texas. Mesquite grows in all regions of the state except the deep East Piney Woods.

Out of the seven varieties, the post will mostly reference Prosopis glandulosa var. glandulosa a.k.a "Honey Mesquite".

Map of the American South West and Latin america showing the range of Mesquite tree growth.

Native Tribes: Resource and Myth

Description reads: Salt River Reservation, Pima Agency Arizona, two Maricopa men(sitting) and Mojave Man in full aboriginal dress. 1880

Mesquite was such an omnipresent and nutritious resource and a central part of life itself that many tribes such as the Walapai, Apache, Papago, and Maricopa honored mesquite within their language and mythology.

Mesquite beans were the food staples for many of the South West Native American tribes. Through out the United states they gathered millions of pounds annually. In cases of food shortages, mesquite beans were often the only food source.

Much of the plant material such as fiber, thorns, sap, and roots were used in the making of many goods. The fibers were used for making of textiles and baskets. The

The creation myth of the Maricopa states that the Maricopa, Pima, and Yavapai -after death of their maker- scattered over the land and gathered mesquite beans. An Apache myth recounts how the sun and moon consulted with one another and formed the mesquite tree then hung beans upon its branches. The death of the Coyote myth of the Pima tells of Mesquite surviving the Great Flood and of how the coyote ate so many beans that they swelled in his stomach.

The Mesquite was an extremely important resource and was used frequently as an amenity of trade between the Apache tribe and the Pima tribe. When food plants failed during time of drought the Pima would travel long expeditions to trade goods with the Apache for beans and bean flour. With it, the Pima made dough and cooked it as round cakes. Certain tribes such as Pima and Opata also fermented bean flour water creating a bean beer called Atole and has a mildly intoxicating quality.

The gum, or sap, of the tree was used as adhesive to mend broken pottery as well as dye clay before the heating process. The gum when mixed with mud was used in several tribes spiritual and courtship rituals.

Both leaves and gum of the Mesquite is known by the tribes to carry healing powers and medicinal properties.

The Yaqui community in particular honor mesquite as one of two plants to have supernatural powers beyond most other plants. However of the two, only Mesquite grows in the sacred territory of the Yaqui and is said to have powers to detect and vanquish witchcraft especially if the wood is cut into a shape of a cross. One Yaqui myth tells of a "talking stick" made from mesquite wood which foretold death to all people baptized as christian.

Anglo-Texan History

Image of Mesquite Texas, 1890 showing piles of mesquite branches and horse drawn wagons containing grain or beans.

Historians believed that the mesquite was orginally limited to extreme South Texas and spread north only after the Civil War when cattle drives became frequent. Cattle would eat mesquite beans when grass was not plentiful.

Early Texas settlers facored the mesquite wood because not only was it plentiful but it also resisted rotting. Before commercial barbed wire came to texas in the 1870s, ranchers built sturdy corrals from mesquite-log picket fences. Travelers also fashioned hubs for wagons, wagon spokes, and small boat ribs from mesquite.

During the civil war, when coffee was scarce, Texans made ersatz coffee from roasted and ground mesquite beans. Honey made from mesquite flowers was especially prized. In the absence of pins, settlers substituted mesquite thorns.

In the 1869 Dr. John E. Park of Sequin patented under the no. 51,407 on December 5 for the use of mesquite bark in tanning leather. In the article from 1870 Texas Almanac, he included information on the superiority of the use of Mesquite in tanning leather. For, mesquite was found to be richest in Tannic Acid (a substance used for tanning) and worked exceptionally faster than previous methods because the acid penetrated the hide faster. Fast enough to seldom lose hide to decomposition. This allowed for tanning to be done in summer months, a process usually done in winter.

Medicinal Uses

*Note: not a replacement for modern day regulated medications and treatments.*

Aztecs made a lotion from ground mesquite leaves to treat sore eyes.

The Yuma tribe treated venereal diseases with an infusion of leaves and sap.

Comanches chewed on leaves to relieve toothaches.

The Yaqui Tribe treated headaches with a poultice made from mashing leaves to a pulp, mixing with water, and binding the mixture to the forehead.

The light-amber gum or sap that oozed from mesauite bark was mixed with water and gargled to treat sore throats, or swallowed to treat diarrhea, aid in digestion, and help wounds heal.

The Yavapai rubbed a mixture of mud and mesquite gum into their hair to simultaneously dye it and treat lice.

Modern Uses

Although ranchers still try to annihilate mesquite due to injury of livestock and cowhands, a dedicated group of texans cant get enough of it. They are mostly artisans who value mesquite for its beauty, the ease with which it can be worked, and the high sheen of finished pieces. Some even prize its irregularities.

Mesquite has a swirling grain, radial cracks, mineral deposits in the bark, and often many insect holes. Mesquite is dimensionally stable: as most hardwoods dry they shrink more in one direction than they do the other while mesquite shrinks the same percentage in both directions. It has a surface hardness of 2,336 pounds per squared inch, equal to that of hickory and almost twice that of oak and maple; and a density of 45 pounds per foot greater than oak, maple, pecan, and hickory.

Modern Spiritual interpertations:

Harmonizing qualities

Accessing the willingness to cross the wasteland of "dark night of the soul" to find deep spiritual richness within yourself and others

Comfortably connecting with others from a place of compassion and warmth

Standing inside a circle of love

Self blessing

Forgiveness

Possible use for Mesquite in imbalances

Emotional remoteness

Aloofness

Allowing others to see a coolness that actually covers an inner warmth

Feeling as is there is a barren wasteland or spiritual desolation within self.

Feeling separated and remote from others or self.

Personal Suggestion on craft Use*

*Disclaimer: subject to error and not a replacement for actual medications; allergy notice: mesquite is part of the legume family. Research trees and plants in area before ingesting random plants. Watch out for use of pesticides in public places. I do Not recommend diy fermentation. I do not support appropriating native tribes' traditions and rites unless explicitly permitted to by said tribe, do NOT trespass on Sacred Lands for resources it may be possible to purchase sacred mesquite from the tribes. Do Not vandalize sacred grounds or public trees. BE RESPECTFUL.*

Mesquite is tasty. Use wood for rich Smokey flavor on barbequed meats and vegtables.

Make tea from leaves

The beans are said to taste sweet and contain 30 percent sugar trace. Eat beans raw, roasted, dried, or ground into a flour.

Use water diluted sap to treat rashes. (Unless allergic.)

Use diluted sap in hair as you would oils.

Burn leaves and wood to smoke cleanse.

Hang mesquite cross to avert hexes or harmful craft.

I recommend buying from South Western Tribes and other mesquite artisans for bobbles and other wooden figures. Otherwise, source your mesquite in an earth friendly manner by sustainable means and only take what you need.

Information Sources:

"The Magnificent Mesquite" book by Ken E. Rogers

Texasalmanac.com

Desert-alchemy.com

Local Texans

Picture Sources: Google and pinterest

[babylon-crashing]

santa muerte: understand the gifts of death

Death's defining feature is that it counterbalances the power of life and the forces of growth and generativity. Death is the darker but necessary half of life, living energy, and the sexual drive. Death and dying create a void that life must grow and evolve in order to fill. Thus, death drives life's creative and fruitful cycles. This relationship between life and death is foundational to understanding the workings of nature. Grass must grow so that deer may eat it, and later so that we may eat the deer. Without the death of the deer, our own children may not survive.

The twin powers of life and death are deeply respected in many ancient cultures and enshrined in their mythologies. For example, Inanna was the Sumerian goddess of sexual pleasure and fertility. She was also the twin sister of Ereshkigal, the goddess of the underworld (in some descriptions, these goddesses are but a single goddess with a dual nature, both light and dark). The Aztec goddess Mictecacihuatl also embodied the powers of life and death, being both the keeper of the souls of the dead as well as the mother of all of humanity in the next age. Santa Muerte herself likewise represents these powers combined into one figure. Certainly, as Death incarnate, she has the ability to erode, decay, and destroy. By simply withholding her destructive influence, Santa Muerte allows life to flourish.

To say that the power of death had immense sway over both the Europeans and Aztecs is an understatement. Europeans were still reeling from war and plagues that had decimated their own population. The dominance of the danse macabre cultural trend that led to the evolution of figures such as the Grim Reaper and La Parca are testaments to this. The Aztecs practiced sacrifice universally in order to repay the debts that the living owed the power of death. After all, no one would survive for long without harvest and slaughter.

The idea that death embodies an all-encompassing and nearly unlimited scope of power was certainly nothing new to either the Europeans or the Aztecs. In fact, this concept is nearly universal in application already. As far as life and creation spread, death follows to curb and counterbalance it. Without death, there is no drive to fill the empty space it creates. Death is therefore not an inherently negative force. This doesn't change the fact that many people have a negative perception of death. The power it holds over our lives is both ultimate and total. When we feel its nearness, we do not like the sense of shock and loss that it brings. It also has a way of reminding us of our own inevitable demise.

What powers does death possess other than the ability to erode and take life? Death has the power to affect and change all things in creation. In certain early versions of Genesis, God creates the power of death first, even before dividing the heavens and the earth and creating all of the angels. This makes death itself the oldest force in all of creation, secondary only to the pure creative power attributed to God. Some even consider the power of death to be superior to that of Gods own son, Jesus, since even he had to experience its transformative power before he could ascend to his own rightful position in Heaven. In many cultures, even our own, the power of death is accorded a nearly omnipotent status. After all, people frequently joke that few things are certain except death and taxes. This notion is an echo of a much earlier ancient idea, promoted by the Greeks in the form of the goddess Atropos, the cutter of the threads of fate. No one and nothing, not even the king of the gods, was immune to the power of death and the change that it brings.

Death is also frequently seen as a balancing force that is capable of extracting an exact judgment This idea is likewise ancient, reflected in the function of goddesses such as Atropos. There are two reasons for this. The first is that death knocks equally at the gates of poor men and at the palaces of kings. It does not discriminate in terms of social class or standing. The majority of ancient peoples were not members of privileged social classes — there were far more peasant shepherds than high priests and kings. Members of the upper class often had the right to brutally tax, conscript, and even kill members of the peasant class, and enjoyed a far broader range of privileges. The idea that all-powerful death could suddenly appear to strike down a cruel and petty lord must have had broad appeal to many people.

The second reason that death is seen as a judging force is that sentencing prisoners to death for even minor crimes has been a standard practice worldwide for millennia. One reason for this is that the threat of death is a great deterrent. If you know that you are going to be hanged for stealing, then you must evaluate each theft in terms of its real risk to your life. For much of human history, we have killed or enslaved criminals instead of imprisoning them — the rehabilitation of prisoners is a modern idea. In addition, keeping large quantities of people confined to a small area for a prolonged period creates many practical problems, including providing adequate sanitation and limiting the spread of disease. Many of the technologies to make this possible were not available until the l9th and 20th centuries. Thus, there was no way to keep prisoners, even if societies had wanted to. Therefore, death by execution was a practical means of dealing with the criminal population, and so death itself became associated with judgment.

The power of death is also frequently seen as a keeper of wisdom and learning. This idea is likewise an ancient one. The Fates, for example, wove the magic thread that outlined the course of a persons life. The course of mans fate was preordained. The Fates knew everything that had happened and was likewise fated to be. This power gave the Fates the enormous capacity to understand mankind and his foibles. Any leniency in their decisions was based on this massive depth of wisdom. The idea that death was purveyor of wisdom was also rooted in the ancient Jewish tales that deeply influenced Christianity. Because death was likewise thought to be created first, even before all of the angels and the earth, it is the oldest power in creation. The serpent in the Garden of Eden is also sometimes identified as the angel of death. This makes death the purveyor of wisdom as well as freedom from the perfect-but-limited cradle that the Garden of Eden represents. Thus, the consequence of seizing divine wisdom and leaving the divine cradle is the acceptance of death.

The power of death is also seen as having an incredibly transformative touch. Natures renewal depends on it; rotting plant and animal matter makes the most fertile compost, and the desolate ash fields left in the wake of a raging forest fire quickly fill with new green seedlings. We also leave our bodies behind to be buried and decompose within the earth, or often to be burned to ashes in a funeral pyre. No person or thing escapes its eventual touch. Even mythological exceptions to this rule, such as the Greek hero Hercules and the Biblical prophet Ezra, are rare.

Where does our consciousness go when we die? The idea that our consciousness continues in some fashion is an extremely common and ancient spiritual belief. For those who believe that the earth is the scene of our perpetual reincarnations, death is a necessary step in that process. For those who believe that after dying we are transported to Heaven, Hell, or some other sort of eternal realm, death is likewise a necessary step. In many cultures across millennia, the dead have been buried with useful grave items such as tools and food for their use in the next world. Some cultures even continue to make offerings to their dead such as food, water, perfume, and incense, either to appease them or to beg for their favor. These practices would be impossible to conceive of if a prevalent cultural belief about some kind of life after death did not exist. This idea is the foundation of the Day of the Dead festival and why family members return to the graves of their loved ones to celebrate them and ask for their protection and favor.

In more abstract terms, death also has the power to decay, destroy, and thus transform beliefs, habits, and attitudes. The sense of shock created when someone near and dear to you dies is a perfect catalyst for all kinds of personal change. An individual may suddenly decide to start seeking regular medical care after a cancer diagnosis kills a beloved grandmother, for example. A person may find himself or herself to be more patient and forgiving with other people when a family member dies with whom he or she never made peace. Of course, these changes may be more destructive as well. More than one person has collapsed into severe alcoholism thanks to the death of a loved one. Understanding and accepting death's transformative power are often key steps to preventing such a terrible personal outcome.

Ultimately, the changes that death creates may be simple but profound, such as in the sudden death of a loved one. The death of a spouse, for example, brings not only a great deal of personal introspection, but also a profound change in family and community relationships. A grieving spouse loses the company, closeness, and emotional support of his or her dearest partner, and also loses the deceased spouses practical backing. Funeral expenses create huge bills as the second income suddenly disappears, and one less person is available to help make dinner and get the kids to bed. This loss causes friends and family to suddenly come together to support the surviving spouse, which causes further changes in their own family dynamics. These friends and family members themselves may lose a large amount of their own personal time and income in support of the surviving spouse and children. These actions may strengthen family ties — or severely strain them.

Yet out of this experience, positive gains can be made. The shock and introspection brought about by a loved ones death can also clarify relationships, as well as inspire them to grow. Estranged family members often find a way of forgiving each other in death's wake, for instance, finding their way back into the fold. Individually, affected family members may also find new outlets to express their grief in ways that have lasting positive benefits. They may decide to take up a serious artistic hobby, such as painting or writing. A sudden death can also have a sobering effect on your future planning, such as the reality of needing to financially plan for your own funeral, or needing to cope with the eventual mortality of other friends and members. Even these common kinds of changes can have p,, found and lasting effects on the lives of those whom death has touched, changes that otherwise may not have occurred. This is why the death of a loved one is often remembered as a milestone event in a persons life.

(Tracey Rollin. Santa Muerte: the history, rituals and magic of Our Lady of Holy Death, pages 66-72)

[inquisitivewordsmith]

Action/Adventure Streaming Cartoons!

Hey, so Voltron: Legendary Defender recently ended. Want to watch some more animated shows in the similar genre of action and adventure? 

The following is a recommendation list of some you can try out. Unlike my last “recommendation list”, (now renamed) this is an actual selected list of shows I either recommend or think look intriguing. So, not as comprehensive as that, but much more personal. 

For this list, I’ll be focusing specifically on streaming ORIGINALS, so no shows that aired on TV first. Also, again, I’m specifically focusing on action and adventure cartoons. So, no live action shows or cartoon comedies. There is one example that blurs the line at the end, but I’ll deal with that when we get there. ;)

Let’s begin after the cut!

Hilda (Netflix)

One of the surprise hits of this year (at least for me), Hilda is a series based on Luke Pearson’s series of children’s books of the same name. It follows the adventures of Hilda, a brave little girl who goes on adventures and meets up with magical creatures before having to move to the city of Trolberg. This cartoon is delightful, charming, and has this sense of mystery and mystique without actually setting up a mystery. I had a blast watching it with my younger brother, who was a fan of the books. 

Season one is out, with a season two scheduled for 2020.  

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (Netflix)

After Adora finds a mysterious sword in the forest, she begins to question the Horde, the empire she’s been working for in her whole life, and joins the opposing Rebellion as the legendary warrior, She-Ra. I don’t think I really need to recommend this one, considering how big it got. But yes, it lives up to the hype, some minor tonal issues aside. It’s a creative re-imagining of a beloved 80s cartoon classic. It’s very inclusive, has a great cast of likable and memorable characters, and hey, I’m actually a fan of the art style.

Season two is coming out soon, with at least a total of 52 episodes planned. 

Castlevania (Netflix)

Again, another cartoon I don’t think I need to recommend. This is an adaptation of the video game series that follows the efforts of Trevor Belmont, Sypha, and Alucard as they try to stop Dracula’s murderous rampage. The plot isn’t something too deep or exciting, but the gorgeous animation and art style, as well as the bloody, gory, fun, make it an exciting watch. I’m actually going to go against the grain and say that the shorter runs are much better. I don’t think this is the kind of show that should deal with a “full” season run, but that’s just me. 

Seasons one and two are out now, with a season three of 10 episodes on the way. 

Tales of Arcadia: Trollhunters and 3Below (Netflix)

Executive produced by Guillermo del Toro, Trollhunters follows the adventures of Jim Lake Jr. and friends as they are embark in a journey to save mankind, as well as the magical community underneath their town, from evil forces. Trollhunters admittedly starts out as a bit of a cliche storm, but it finds its footing along the way into something more earnest. It probably has one of the best series finales I’ve seen this year. I haven’t seen 3Below yet, but it looks fun. I’ll make some time for it.  

Seasons one to three of Trollhunters are out now, season one of 3Below is out now, and another spin-off, Wizards, is scheduled for 2019. 

The Dragon Prince (Netflix)

From Aaron Ehasz and Giancarlo Volpe, this series follows Callum, his brother Ezran, and elf assassin Rayla as they protect the egg of the Dragon Prince and try to bring peace between the humans, elves, and dragons. The animation is not everyone’s cup of tea, but it wasn’t an issue with me. The art style and designs are gorgeous and the characters are pretty likable. It does hit some of the tone issues She-Ra does, but that’s an area I think the show may improve on as we get deeper into the story and conflict. 

Season one is out now, with season two arriving some time in 2019. 

Stretch Armstrong and the Flex Fighters (Netflix)

Three teenagers develop superpowers after accidentally becoming exposed to experimental chemicals. The CEO of Rook Unlimited takes them on as corporated-sponsored superheroes as they fight a conspiracy in their futuristic city. Are you feeling nostalgic for 2000s teen hero cartoons? This show is pretty much a throwback to that. Some of the strengths in this show include the likable protagonists, some creative fight scenes, the occasional plot twist, the best plot pacing I’ve seen in a Netflix series, and the amount of effort put into the world building for what essentially started out as a novelty toy from the 70s. It also assembles one of my favorite voice casts out there, including my favorite of Steven Yeun’s voice roles. 

Seasons one and two are out now, with the interactive special, The Breakout, taking place in-between the seasons. I genuinely don’t know if there’s more episodes coming, but I’d like a couple more seasons, at least. 

All Hail King Julien: Exiled (Netflix)

This is a weird example because this is season five of what is a largely comedic series. In this special season, after season four’s cliffhanger, King Julien loses his kingdom, and he and his friends go on their own separate quests to put things back to normal. The season takes on a different genre than usual and is more of a big, epic adventure that parodies other adventures like Lord of the Rings, Game of Thrones, and The Chronicles of Narnia. It’s ambitious and VERY bizarre towards the end, but it’s a fun ride. 

This season is out now, while the main series it comes from has five seasons out as well. This season takes place between seasons four and six. 

Kung Fu Panda: The Paws of Destiny (Amazon Prime)

A continuation from the film series, Po must teach four young pandas to harness their newfound powers to fight an evil, ancient master. If you’re a fan of the series, it’s worth checking out. The CGI is pretty good considering it’s for a TV series, the fights are decent, and the kids are actually pretty likable. The show does a good job keeping the tone of the movies, Plus, you get to hear Steve Blum ham it up as the main villain. That’s always fun. 

Season one is out now, with a season two heavily hinted to be on the way. 

Kulipari (Netflix)

A passion project from NFL player Trevor Pryce and based on his novels, it’s the tale of Darel, a young frog who sets out to rescue his village from an army of warmongering scorpions by recruiting back his idols, the legendary warriors known as the Kulipari. Yeah, the animation is...not great and the pacing and dialogue falter a bit, but I love the art and designs, how much it's inspired by Aboriginal culture, and just the grand ambition of it all. Also, another show that has a pretty great voice cast. 

Seasons one (Army of Frogs) and two (Dream Walker) are out now, with season three a strong possibility. There’s also a comic mini-series (Heritage) and an upcoming graphic novel (Warflower) that take place between the seasons. 

Niko and the Sword of Light (Amazon Prime)

Niko is a young warrior that is accidentally awakened too early. Despite their young age, he and Princess Lyra must defeat the sorcerer Nar Est and save the kingdom from the darkness that infects it. This Emmy-winning series skews a bit younger, but it’s still pretty entertaining. Niko is endearing as a brave, bold warrior of sorts in the body of a young boy. The art style and Titmouse’s animation look great, and once again, we’ve got Steve Blum as the main villain. 

Season one is out now, with season two coming in VERY soon. There is a one-shot comic based on the show. 

The Hollow (Netflix)

This is a show I haven’t seen myself, but the little I’ve seen and heard of intrigues me. The show is about three teenagers who wake up inside a shack in the middle of the forest, with no memories of how they got there or of each other. They work together to dig deeper into the mystery and escape their predicament. The premise sounds pretty interesting and I love the art style by Robert Valley. 

Season one is out now, with season two on the way for an unknown release date. 

Legend Quest (Netflix)

Based on the Mexican animated movies Las Leyendas, this series features Leo, a teenage boy who can communicate with ghosts, and works together with ghosts and other allies to uncover supernatural mysteries and stop the Aztec god Quetzalcoatl from destroying the world in a fit of rage. These past few years have seen Mexican-produced animation become more prominent, and I’m personally happy about that. The show itself is pretty amusing, especially once you get past the first episode that can’t decide if the show is reboot or a continuation from the movies. The myth arc takes place after that, and things gets more interesting from there. 

Season one is out now, with season two confirmed for an unknown release date. US Netflix USED to have the Las Leyendas movies it’s based from, but they don’t anymore, which is disappointing. They weren’t great, but they had a unique charm to them. They deal more with Mexican mythology, as opposed to the show’s globetrotting approach. 

Young Justice: Outsiders (DC Universe)

Yeah, this is one show that blurs the line. This is the third season of Young Justice, produced and available exclusively for streaming (at this time). However, the previous two seasons were made for cable before Cartoon Network cancelled it (and all action cartoons at the time). This show deals with the sidekicks and students of DC comics’s most famous superheroes, who decide to form their own group and surpass the expectations set by their mentors. This show has the perfect combination of great art, animation, plot, and writing. It manages to be serious without being depressing and is essentially a massive love letter to the DC Comics Universe as a whole. 

Seasons one and two, as well as the tie-in comic, are available now, with Outsiders coming out next month (as of writing). There is also a prequel one-shot comic to Outsiders coming out next month to DC Universe as well. 

[katieskarlette]

This is probably silly to worry about, but it’s something I’ve been meaning to post about for ages.  A few years ago I had mentioned listening to podcasts, and someone private messaged me asking which ones.  In blissful ignorance, I replied that I had been listening to Joe Rogan.

Now wait, before you get out the pitchforks, my first and only exposure to Rogan was the handful of podcasts he did with Graham Hancock.  Hancock is a journalist specializing in fringe archaeology whose books I’ve greatly enjoyed.  In the interviews Rogan treated him with respect and took him seriously, which a lot of people won’t do.  So based solely on that, I was like, “Hey, this guy’s all right.”  I never listened to another one of his shows, though.  In the years since I’ve learned more about him and his batshittery, and...yikes.  No.  No no no no no.

So on the off chance that whomever that was who PMed me like four years ago sees this and is still thinking, “Geez, cancel that loser katieskarlette; she likes Joe Rogan,” I want to set the record straight that NO, I DO NOT!

Feel free to judge me for loving Graham Hancock’s work, though.  He’s done some really in-depth, intriguing research and many of his theories make a whole lot of sense. 

[Whoops, I did the neurodivergent info-dump thing and this got long.  Ignore unless you want to read my ramblings about “alternative” archaeology. TL;DR: Leaving the study of human history in the hands of stodgy white academics means a lot gets lost--or never found/acknowledged in the first place.  So maybe let’s not do that, and take a fresh look at stuff that happened a long time ago.]

It’s funny because so many fringe archaeologists harbor white supremacist agendas, and then there’s Graham Hancock, who--despite being white himself--is the exact opposite.  Not only is he married to a woman from India (a WOC, although I don’t remember her exact ethnicity,) but one of his main arguments is that mainstream archaeologists need to start listening to indigenous people when they speak about their own histories, and to give them credit for incredible advances in civilization long before Europe figured out that dumping chamber pots in the street was unhealthy.

He’s also not out there claiming aliens built the pyramids, or magicians used crystals to levitate Stonehenge into place.  He’s just making the perfectly reasonable claim that there were thriving civilizations before the ones we already know about, and if one keeps an open mind and doesn’t get blinded by dogma it’s possible to see where they left their mark.  Oh, and there was a comet impact that fucked things up pretty badly around 12,800 years ago.  There’s that, too.  (R.I.P. wooly mammoths, giant ground sloths, other megafauna, and the Clovis culture.)

At the end of the last Ice Age, sea level rose a lot, flooding thousands of miles of coastal land--i.e. the most densely-populated areas.  Extremely little underwater archaeology has been done there.  That alone should intrigue anyone who harbors even a shred of curiosity about human history!  

Speaking of lost knowledge, if you cringe at the thought of the Library at Alexandria being destroyed, you don’t even want to know what the Spanish did to the combined texts of the Aztec, Toltec, and Maya civilizations.  Thousands of years of science, history, agriculture, astronomy, mathematics, religion, and mythology, up in smoke because “Eew, everything that’s not Christian is eeeeeeevil!”  Losing Alexandria majorly sucked, yes, but it didn’t leave us without any sources for ancient history in that hemisphere.  We have three and a half Mayan codices left.  Three and a half.  Not even four whole ones.  That’s it, for the entire history of the Americas prior to Columbus.  As far as we know the other cultures of the Americas didn’t use writing, and their rich oral traditions didn’t fare well when most of the people who knew them were dead, and the few who survived were forbidden to speak their own language anymore...   I can’t bear to think about what knowledge was lost forever because of ignorance and xenophobia.  (This obviously is a problem everywhere colonialism barged in, but the conquistadors were especially horrendous.)

Meanwhile, the only good thing about Amazon deforestation is that we’re uncovering ruins of civilization(s) that rival the big names of antiquity (Egypt, Sumer, etc.)  You know, the cities that the indigenous people told the Europeans were there, but when the white folks didn’t see them after mucking around the insanely dense, unfamiliar, dangerous jungle for a little while they were like, “Nah, it’s just another silly fairy tale from these stupid natives.”  ARG!  (Actually, IIRC, one European did see some of them from a boat on the river but didn’t dare stop to investigate, and when others went back later they couldn’t find anything and assumed the first guy was mistaken or hallucinating or something.  Yeah.  Okay then.  Point being they didn’t listen to the people who had lived there for thousands of years.)

It’s equally frustrating how many times Western archaeologists “discover” a sunken settlement off the coasts of India and Sri Lanka and the locals are like, “Oh yeah, that place.  Our fishermen use it as a landmark.  We’ve got all kind of stories about who founded that city, what temples were there, and how it got swallowed when the sea level rose.  But you don’t want to listen to our goofy old legends, right?”  (See Hancock’s book Underworld.)

And don’t get me started on the “Clovis first” nonsense.  At least a decent segment of academia is reluctantly letting that one go, even if their lower lips quiver a bit.  

Yes, people came through the Bering land bridge.  No, they weren’t the first humans in the Americas.  It’s okay to be wrong sometimes.  Yes, you can still imagine how epic it would have been to walk through a narrow passage with glaciers towering around you.  Yes, that was still a really important moment in human history.  But there are, like, so many sites from Canada to Argentina that pre-date it.  And we keep finding more all the time.  Those are pretty darn cool, too, right?  Just...let...”Clovis first”...go.  You sound like a YouTube commenter typing “FIRST!!!” on a new post.  It doesn’t mean your entire career has been a lie.  It just means there are new things to explore in addition to what you’ve been doing.  Stop taking it so personally.

Oh wait, I said don’t get me started on that topic.  Oopsie.

Anyway, I highly recommend America Before, Hancock’s latest, or Fingerprints of the Gods.

[Disclaimer:  I’m the most pasty white Caucasian to ever get easily sunburned.  I’m also not an archaeologist or anthropologist. I just read interesting books and ramble about them.  If I said something problematic above, it was from a place of ignorance, not malice.]

[caraidean]

Genealogy of the Holy War: Shadowrun AU

This is very possibly one of the most self indulgent AUs I've ever put together, but the tone and lore of the Shadowrun RPG setting fits Genealogy really well at some points - also I love it, please play Dragonfall or Hong Kong if you have something that can run it.

The first bit is frontloaded with a bunch of general info about the setting, so feel free to skip past it if you already know or don't care that much.

THE PITCH & BASIC CONCEPT

Shadowrun is a tabletop RPG setting taking place in our world, in the 2070s. It's a cyberpunk setting, where corporations have more power than the nations and money (specifically, the 'Nuyen') is king. It's filled with fairly standard cyberpunk tropes, such as rebelling against society, capitalism, faceless corporations grinding people into dust, etc. There's also a lot of advanced technology, with cybernetics and a wireless Augmented Reality based internet replacement called the Matrix permeating the world on every level.

Oh, also magic is real, in a BIG way. Wizards exist. One of the world's biggest megacorporations is run by a literal Dragon. Chicago is a hellscape overrun by unkillable Insect Spirits. People have a chance to turn into Elves, Dwarves, Orcs, Trolls or any other kind of fantasy creature at birth or puberty. The result is a mix of William Gibson, Tolkien and pulp fantasy that results in a setting not quite like anything else.

Players take the role of 'Shadowrunners', deniable assets. Criminals for hire, mostly by the other corporations in covert operations against each other. They can exist to make a quick buck, or to further their own political agendas long-term. In this AU, I fuse this hot mess of a setting with the plot of Fire Emblem 4, with a focus on the second generation.

"Watch your back. Shoot Straight. Conserve ammo. And never, ever, cut a deal with a dragon." - Street proverb.

BASIC SHADOWRUN TIMELINE

In the early 2000s, corporations of a certain size were granted rights as micronations and a great deal of power due to an incident during a trucker strike in New York. The rest of the 2000s was fairly standard cyberpunk fare, with the ascent of MegaCorporations and hypercapitalism taking place, as well as great leaps in augmetic research. Then, in 2011, everything went straight to hell. VITAS, an unexplained virus, took out ten percent of the world's population - and children started being born with strange genetic changes, resembling stereotypical Dwarves and Elves from western fantasy. Multiple civil wars erupt as countries lose more and more power as corporations become more dominant, Scotland becomes highly irradiated, the Korean War resumes, and it just keeps getting worse and worse.

Then, on December 24 2011, The Awakening happened.

The Great Eastern Dragon Ryumyo erupts from his sleeping place underneath Mount Fuji in Japan. Daniel Coleman leads a group of Native American protesters into the desert, while manifesting a magical forcefield that prevents the US Army from shooting them. Leylines and other magical phenomena start appearing. Regular human people undergoing adolescence start to undergo Goblinization, turning into Orcs, Trolls, Oni and other such races. Several other Dragons appear and start attacking or aiding humanity, and everything is descending into outright chaos and confusion until finally the Western Dragon Dunkelzhan lands outside Denver and gives a twelve hour interview explaining what was happening.

Every few thousand years, magic either manifests or leaves the Earth, creating a new Age. In the 2000s, Earth was entering the newest Age, with magic returning in violent form. People began to become mages of various kinds, spirits appeared, paranormal creatures from all kinds of mythologies manifested - and the Dragons were the most important part. Dunkelzhan became known as the greatest ally of humanity, Ryumyo made it clear that nobody was to ever attack Japan, Hestaby became the protector of the Elven race and set up the nation of Tir Tairngire, and most importantly Lofywr - arguably the main antagonist/protagonist of the setting - gained control of one of the ten MegaCorporations forming the Corporate Court, Saeder-Krupp in Germany.

Rather than go too far in detail on what happened between the 2020s and the 2070s in which this AU is set, I'll hit a few more major events. The Internet was destroyed by the Crash Virus, resulting in the creation of the semi-wireless VR based system called the Matrix; the United States fell apart, forming the United Canadian & American States (UCAS, Canada and eastern seaboard USA), Confederation of American States (the south), and Native American Nations (NAN, mostly the western seaboard); The corporation Aztechnology managed to unite all of South America into one nation they called Aztlan, essentially setting up a dictatorship with very good PR; Dunkelzhan was voted President of the UCAS, only to be assassinated shortly afterwards; the other nine members of the Corporate Court and many minor corporations gave Aztechnology a bloody nose with Operation RECIPROCITY, a joint military strike warning them against expanding past Mexico; A second Crash was initiated by a terror group, causing the end of the VR Matrix and its eventual replacement with an Augmented Reality and fully wireless version; and Chicago falls victim to the Insect Spirits, a malevolent magical force that can't really be stopped, only delayed. It becomes a hell on earth called 'Bug City' that nobody ever goes to.

For more detailed information, I suggest picking up one of the Core Books (20th Anniversary Edition and 5th Edition are the ones I use most), listening to a few episodes of the Neo-Anarchist Podcast (an in-character history podcast from the perspective of a Neo-Anarchist Crow Shaman, Opti) or bugging me on Discord because I am always down to talk Shadowrun lore.

SHADOWRUN GLOSSARY

MEGACORPS AND THE CORPORATE COURT: Corporations that are large enough to have Extraterritoriality, which essentially means that while on ground they own, you follow their rules. The ten largest corporations are referred to as AAA Corporations, and have a seat on the Corporate Court - the closest thing the world has to a ruling body or oversight committee with the complete irrelevance of any individual country or the UN. The current corporations on the Corporate Court circa 2070, ranked from most powerful to weakest, are:

Saeder-Krupp: A German conglomerate based on steel, heavy industrial goods, cars, arms and communications, particularly in Europe - where it has a monopoly on all those markets. Its majority shareholder is Lofwyr, a Great Dragon and the most powerful individual in the setting.

Ares Macrotechnology, a Detroit-based mix of automotive, steel and arms companies. Corporate culture is based off the US Military

Aztechnology: Based in consumer goods, chemistry and magical research. Owns South America as a country they call 'Aztlan', steeped in Aztec culture.

EVO (formerly Yamatetsu): Shipping and infrastructure. Originally Japanese, later became Russia- based.

Horizon: The unholy fusion of Disney and Facebook. A multimedia and social marketing nightmare.

Mitsuhama Computer Technologies: A money laundering op for the Yakuza that became succesful enough for them to go straight.

NeoNET: Formed from the merger of Transys Neuronet, Erika, and Novatech following the Crash 2.0

Renraku Computer Systems: Japan-based computer and arms company.

Shiawase Corporation: The first megacorp. Energy production, biotech and environmental procedures.

Wuxing: a Hong Kong-based company based on shipping goods.

SHADOWRUNNERS: Criminals for hire. Actually exist in a quasi-legal state, as mercenaries - and can be hired for entirely legal jobs. This normally isn't the case.

MR. / MRS JOHNSON: The moniker used by those hiring shadowrunners, for deniability. Occasionally changes name based on region. 

THE MATRIX: Currently, an Augmented Reality wireless network that replaced the internet and the first, VR-based matrix. Accessed by everyone wearing contacts or other eyewear (cybernetic or glasses) and either special gloves or implated electrodes in their fingers that let them interact with it. May be quasi-magical in nature, but that is still up for debate.

COMMLINKS: Smartphones that let you run your own personal 'node' on the Matrix.

DECKER: Hackers, who use special edited commlinks called Cyberdecks to access parts of the matrix denied to others.

CYBERWARE: Cybernetic enhancements of any kind.

BIOWARE: Biological enhancements of any kind, such as genetically engineered muscles.

TECHNOMANCERS: People who don't need Commlinks to access the Matrix.

MAGES: Magic users who manifest magic in the traditional sense.

ADEPTS: Magic users who manifest their abilities by changing their physical form - shapeshifting, increased strength, changing voice and appearance, etc.

ESSENCE: The 'soul' of a person, which also determines magical ability. Too many augmentations eats away at your Essence, making it harder for you to cast or resist magic.

STREET SAMURAI: The ‘muscle’ of a shadowrun team, normally with cyberware and bioware up to their eyebrows. 

RIGGER: Anyone who drives vehicles or pilots drones. 

FACE: The member of a shadowrun team who does the talking. 

GEN 1 PLOTLINE

The first generation of FE4 is kept fairly uneventful in comparison to the game. Most of the major houses are transitioned into A- or AA-level megacorps, not large enough to be part of the Corporate Council but with a high amount of power in their own rights. These include:

The Grannvale Collective, a collection of A-level corps who manage to operate at the AA and fringe AAA level by consensus. They consist of Friege Energy (an alternative energy distributor), Velthomer MagiTech (magical theory & equipment), Barhara Heavy Industry, Edda Medical, Chalphy Security Solutions (a private police force), Dosel Dynamics (a spinoff of Edda Medical, focusing on augmetics) and Jungby Mobility (vehicles and alternative personal transport).

Silesse Aerodynamics, one of the largest non-Ares investors in the new Space Race.

Thracia Group Solutions, a multimedia company that was on the verge of qualifying for the Corporate Cort before internal power struggles between Thracia itself and its rapidly rising subdivision Manster MMT, a private security force and magitech developer.

Verdane Agriculture, one of the few distributors of fresh food to the UCAS outside of Aztechnology.

Miletost Mercantile Solutions, a trading & gambling company that barely scrapes A-level status.

Isaach Industries, creating experimental weapons and armor with a focus on close-range urban environments.

Agustria Analogue, an entertainment company.

The only major shakeup during the 2030s through early 2060s is the capturing of Sigurd's wife Deirdre, by a team of shadowrunners hired by the Great Dragon Loptyr (more on him in this AU later). She is kept in hiding while a team of mages carefully wipe memories from her, working to set up the next stage in Loptyr's plan. Sigurd devotes a large amount of time and Chalphy's resources to trying to find her, resulting in it beginning to falter as a company and losing several lucrative contracts to LoneStar or Ares Knight Errant. It looks as though the other members of the Grannvale Collective are preparing to eject Chalphy from the collective, until late 2064 rolls around.

On November 2nd 2064, the terrorist groups Winternight and Ex Pacis initiate the Crash 2.0, destroying the VR Matrix and causing untold damage to corporations, nations and individuals worldwide. This works as the 'Barhara' equivalent, even without the direct involvement of Velthomer Magical, and results in the death or un-personing of many of the first generation characters. The few weeks with no real matrix capabilities are chaotic, but when the dust settles a new status quo has emerged.

Silesse Aerodynamics is no more, having been dissolved and its assets acquired by Ares. 

Manster MMT has split from Thracia Group Solutions, becoming its own corporation att odds with TGS

Agustria Analogue was bought out by Horizon Media during their ascent to AAA status. 

Verdane Agriculture and Miletos Mercantile Solutions were bought out by Aztechnology. 

The Grannvale Collective is reduced to a total of three corporations - Velthomer MagiTech, Friege Energy and Barhara Heavy Industries.  Velthomer has absorbed Chalphy Security Solutions as well as Edda Medical and Dosel Dynamics, with Friege acquiring Jungby Mobility. The sudden reappearance of Deirdre results in her remarrying to Arvis, resulting in the merger of Barhara Heavy Industries and Velthomer MagiTech into the renamed Velthomer-Barhara Corporation. VBC starts applying for AAA status, and becomes seriously considered for it. 

Notable survivors from the first generation of the game include Finn, Quan & Ethlyn - who manage to keep Manster MMT afloat as its own corporation despite heavy pressure from Thracia. Sigurd died during a hit by a shadowrunner team hired by Arvis on advice from Manfroy. Deirdre, instead of dying at Julius' hands, is assassinated by Manfroy's shadowrunner teams after she starts digging into the past life she forcibly forgot about too far. Manster MMT tries its best to find Seliph, but he seems to have vanished off the face of the earth. Ethlyn never stops looking.

GEN 2 PLOT HOOK

By the 2070s, we have entered the second generation proper. The new Matrix is well in effect, and Velthomer-Barhara has begun talks with Friege Energy to merge into Granvalle Incorporated, headed by Julius and Ishtar post merger. Such a move would bring them onto the Corporate Court for sure, furthering Loptyr's shadowy plan. Most of the rest of the second generation and any survivors from the first generation have been forced into the shadows, when someone starts leaking information to them regarding the merger - and the possible motives behind it. 

Oifey starts acting on it, gathering those he can find and getting funding from Manster MMT to equip and train these Shadowrunners to start acting against Velthomer-Barhara directly.

LOPTYR'S PLAN

Like some of the other Great Dragons, Loptyr despises humanity. Instead of retreating into seclusion or rampages like Sirrug or the Sea Dragon, however, Loptyr takes a page out of Lofwyr and Hestaby's books - he will bring about the downfall of humanity with them as his implements. He identified Deirdre and Arvis as relatives, using this connection to create Julius and Julia both - the resulting twisted nature of their bloodline making them highly susceptible to becoming hosts to the destructive Insect Spirits that led to the fall of Chicago. He intends for Velthomer-Barhara to obtain AAA status, become one with the Corporate Court, and then use that position to destroy the AAA Corporations through an Insect Spirit conspiracy and leave the world leaderless, falling into chaos.

CHARACTERS

ISHTAR is the heiress of Friege Energy, who goblinized into an Elf during puberty. Her brother Ishtore remained unchanged, which resulted in her mother Hilda focusing on her as the next great thing for Friege. She eventually also manifested abilities as a powerful Technomancer, capable of interfacing with the AR matrix without use of a Commlink or other devices. She is engaged to Julius, waiting for the paperwork to go through before marrying him and resulting in the eventual merger of Friege and Velthomer-Barhara into what they plan to call Grannvale Incorporated, certain to replace NeoNet as the tenth AAA corporation on the Corporate Court. Recently she suspects that all is not right in Velthomer-Barhara, and has begun digging into the shady deals of Arvis' 'Head of Human Resources', Manfroy. She's the one who leaked this information to Oifey and Tine, hoping they can act on it some more and right things before they get out of hand. 

JULIUS is the heir of the Velthomer-Barhara Corporation, and a child marked by Loptyr's breeding program as a perfect host to an Insect Spirit. Manfroy manages to get him possessed by his fifteenth birthday, resulting in him becoming the same kind of twisted individual he is in canon - just now with the regenerative and magical powers that the Insect Spirits gift to their hosts. 

SELIPH and many of the other Second Generation units lost their SINs and resources during the Crash 2.0, being forced into hiding as unpersons while other corporations looted their homes and lives. They either live homeless, or turn to the quasi-legal life of Shadowrunners to survive and perhaps seek justice against those that wronged them during the Crash. 

CED was the heir apparent to Silesse Aerospace, before the Crash 2.0. He was unpersoned like his sister following the Crash, his parents dying when their spacecraft lost computing ability and crashed into the ocean. He uses his impressive magical abilities as a Shadowrunner to great effect, generating quite a reputation in the Seattle area as he begins to gather allies and resources for his ultimate goal: exposing and bringing down Damien Knight, CEO of Ares. 

TINE is a former heiress of Friege, who lost her SIN during the Crash and due to the machinations of Hilda never managed to recover it. Ishtar has been keeping close tabs on her since the Crash, trying to send help whenever she can and acting as a high-level corporate contact should she decide to turn to Shadowrunning to survive.

NANNA lost everything but her father when Agustria was bought out by Horizon, including her SIN. Fortunately, Quan and Ethlyn managed to move to protect her on Finn's request - bringing her into Manster MMT by wedding her to her childhood friend and longtime crush, Leif. She now works as a high-end PR agent for the firm, keeping an eye open for her half-brother Diarmuid should he ever resurface.  

FINN is Manster MMT's head of security, responsible for their own sites and their hiring of Shadowrunners - as a result, many of Gen 2 know him by the moniker 'Mr Johnson'. He is a combat cyborg, heavily augmented and mourning the loss of his wife Lachesis during the Crash. Notably, he has impressive combat experience thanks to time as a field commander in Operation RECIPROCITY, giving him an intimidating reputation in the security field. 

LEWYN survived the Crash, but only barely. He later resurfaced in Tir Tairngire under the new name of Holsety, using his status as an Elf to apply for new citizenship. He has no idea that Ced and Fee survived, and manages to get a job with Horizon Media as a magical consultant.

[beckytailweaver]

look out, I been thinking things

Got to thinking about some Coco things that can be rustled up in the various wikis, compiled from creator quotes, or picked up from the books. Trufacks, headcanons, inferences. Some of the concepts may be used in fic, some may be handwaved for reasons, some are just there to think about.

So, um. Wall of text.

At the end of the film, Miguel's cousins Abel and Rosa are playing an accordion and a violin respectively.  In the novelization, they're playing tambourine and harmonica.  Now, the book's instruments are pretty simple to learn to play and use.  But the film's chosen instruments are both fairly complex and in most cases would require actual formal lessons, especially for pretty ordinary kids who (unlike Miguel) probably had little to no real music exposure prior. I'm not sure how I feel about these two being able to play party music with Miguel in less than a year's time (it took Miguel longer than that to be proficient with his guitar, and with no lessons he's amazing!).  Maybe they've all downloaded Papá Héctor levels of talent, but my gut tells me that unless the Riveras were already so okay with music that they sprung for lessons, the tambourine and harmonica are kind of more realistic at that point. Depends how you view the One Year Later timeline I guess?

Currency in the Land of the Dead: It runs on memories. Basically everything there is a memory (the "spirit copies"), not the real thing. Nothing living exists or grows there except for the cempasúchil marigolds. These flowers grow all over the Land of the Dead and I suspect anything else you might see is either temporary (Día de Muertos gifts) or artificial. There isn't much space for crops in that crazily stacked-up cityscape anyway. With this being the case, it's likely that the dead there don't have much resources such as renewable food (details not really touched on in the film). My mind is proposing that the primary way the Land of the Dead acquires such resources is through Día de Muertos. Not that eating is necessary to the deceased, but it's likely nice, and as they are sustained by memories, then the memories of food and goods lovingly crafted and given to them likely has a strengthening effect. In such a world there's probably little use for money, though it might exist as a kind of IOU currency. My mind proposes that most of the dead would trade in goods from their ofrendas and funerary offerings. Though they don't have nearly as many needs as the living, "wealth" would be measured in how much you got from your ofrenda(s).  Likely the very wealthiest skeletons are those who (like Ernesto) receive such a bounty from so many ofrendas that they can well afford to "hire" other skeletons to work for them and have plenty to pay in memory-goods.

The Forgotten live in shacks with nothing to their names. Firstly because they have no one to remember them and no offerings. Secondly, the skeletons nearer to them on the social ladder would have little to spare in terms of extra offerings (though some likely do, given the stuff found rolling around the shantytown and Chicharron's bungalow). Thirdly, the skeletons "wealthy" enough to hire them are those who would least want to, because they wouldn't want to be reminded of the Final Death that looms for everyone no matter how long—and because who wants to hire somebody they don't know if they'll just disappear and not show up for work? (Once the joints start sliding apart, you know that guy's no good for anything, you can't rely on them to show up and they haven't the strength to make it through a day's work...)

If everything in the Land of the Dead is memory, it's probably a good thing that Miguel didn't stay there for too long. They seem to have water there, at least (no guarantees for sanitation), in the depths surrounding the city and in the cenote seen on screen. However, if the foods available are nothing but memory, I suspect that eating them wouldn't do a living kid much good. They might taste good (or provoke the memory of taste), but likely would not fill him. Same reason Héctor could straight up drink a shot glass of tequila without playing a PotC skeleton joke—it's not "real" liquor. If Miguel doesn't go home, not only will he turn into a skeleton himself, he'd starve to death anyway in a matter of days. (Obviously one can take or leave this quasi-headcanon for purposes of fic, but it is an interesting underworld concept to consider.)

Factoid: The marigold bridges (or at least the magic that runs them) are aware in their own way and work with the ofrenda photo scanner system to prevent unauthorized skeletons crossing. I suppose the borders of the Land of the Dead are so jealously guarded to prevent the dead from escaping to create a profusion of ghosts and "evil spirits" rushing about the land of the living. Obviously not every skeleton is a nice person; Ernesto was there, and it seems everybody—or at least everybody Mexican—ends up there, as it's not a Heaven-or-Hell-Judgment sort of place. The rules would at least keep unsavory sorts from pestering the Land of the Living for selfish or evil reasons; but since rules have to be for everyone to be fair, nobody gets through without a pass, no matter how nice or desperate they are. Me, I'm wondering how things went before the scanner was implemented (it's "technology" and fairly modern). Heck, how did they run the place before photos were invented? That long ago, did you only get to cross over if you were wealthy enough someone painted your portrait? It's all based on ancient Aztec/Mayan magic (if that's what we should call it) going by the temples/pyramids that anchor the bridges. What did they used to do centuries ago in lieu of pictures? Obviously the old magic has adapted to the changes in culture and technology, but I'm curious how this place ran when it was first "built." (Anybody knowledgeable want to weigh in on this? Otherwise I'm gonna have to go drag my mythologies texts off the shelf.)

Héctor the Forgotten: he's barely hours behind Chicharron on the Final Death schedule and he still manages to bounce across half the city with this kid like it's nothing! It's worse once you've seen the film all the way through: you know Héctor's a (more) dead man walking, he's got literally hours left to live, he knows he's terminal, and yet he's still so full of energy and smiles and kindness. It's heartbreaking and it makes him one of the strongest people I've ever seen in fiction. I firmly headcanon (in multiple fandoms) that there is an ancient Power that sustains the wronged dead so they have a chance to see justice done. I suspect that above and beyond his sheer heart, that power was what helped keep Héctor upright and at full speed despite the condition of his bones and the memory-magic holding him together fraying at the seams. Chicharron seemed ill and infirm that close to his end, apparently rather bedridden. Héctor was up and dancing on a stage. Héctor also didn't start getting flashes until after his murder was revealed—to someone who could carry that knowledge to the living world to right those wrongs. The power sustaining him immediately started to ebb. There was probably some loophole for getting to the living world for wronged dead too; maybe to go haunt your murderer or such, to try to get justice.  Héctor might have availed himself of these bylaws, if he'd known he was murdered. But he didn't until it was too late, so he was stuck behind the photowall at the bridge gates for decades. I figured on a source for his marionette-movements as well, beyond the creators' stylistic decisions: If Héctor is pretty much running on heart, emergency power, and duct tape, it's sheer willpower keeping him animated. It's almost less that his body moves, and more that he moves his body. If he's falling apart that badly, just lifting his arm without the will to keep together might have his hand drop off! (Just look at how he sags and stretches whenever subjected to sudden or stressful movements! He almost lost his head the first time Miguel grabbed him—did lose an arm after that.) It's like he partially has to will his limbs to move, like a paralyzed telekinetic—so yes, Héctor's body is a marionette; his mind is the puppeteer tugging on the fraying strings of memory-magic keeping him together. And then he dances.

Héctor was, according to the wiki, creators, and books, 21 years old when he died in 1921. As it is canon his birthday is November 30, he would have had to have died in December of 1921, after having just barely turned 21. Inferring this date for his death gives me a headcanon that after months on the road with Ernesto,  Héctor was tired and homesick and it was almost Christmas and he didn't want to miss Christmas with his girls and that's why he was even more determined to go home. Ernesto probably had some holiday gig planned to play and was even more pissed off. It just makes the murder that much more horrible. (I mean, Christmas, Ernesto. It was Christmas season. And you had to kill the guy who just wanted to be home for the holidays.)  I will probably go cry and write fic now, because that's just the saddest thing ever. (I could be completely barking up a tree with this too—anyone know about Christmas celebration in early 1900's Mexico?  ...it's still a horribly sad thought.)

Anyone has something to say on these thoughts, please tell me if I’m wandering too far afield or if something needs further consideration! I never know if I’m letting my mind run too wild.

[rainforestakiie]

If you take request perhaps an Omega Adam x Omega Lucifer, where Lucifer protects Adam from Lilith (who is an Alpha), and throws her out of their nest .

The Omege lovers comfort each other and snuggle .. Just wanna have something cute 👉🏻👈🏻👀 ofcourse if you don't take request, you can ignore this !

love your stories on ao3 and your short stories here ! :)

hello, thank you for the message. i really hope you like this au! thank you so much for letting me be so creative. i worked really hard on it.

i love omegas in general and i love omega adamsapple. haha. it's so fun to write.

here is part 04 of promised souls! with your request added into it!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

The warmth wrapped around Adam like a lover’s embrace, cradling him in a cocoon of blissful comfort. He ached to burrow deeper into the softness of his nest, surrendering to the quiet pull of sleep that fogged his mind and tingled across his skin. The gentle weight of drowsiness ghosted over him, drawing a sigh from his parted lips, soft and full of contentment. His long lashes fluttered, trembling against his cheeks, and a reluctant whine escaped as consciousness tried to tug him from the dreamy haze that enveloped him.

His eyelids twitched, heavy with the desire to stay closed, but he forced them open with a groggy grumble. Mornings had never been his friend, but this was especially cruel—the sky outside still clung to the edges of night. He yearned to sink back into the warmth, his eyelids already drooping again, inviting the return of sleep. A pleased hum escaped him as he felt a tender nuzzle against his mating glands, a gesture so sweet and intimate that it soothed his soul.

But then, something stirred uneasily within him. A knot of tension twisted deep in his gut, a signal from instincts older than thought. Adam blinked his eyes open once more, scanning the familiar, shadowed corners of his small, box-like flat. His brow furrowed in confusion, the unease settling in his chest like a stone. What was wrong? His Omega instincts screamed that something was off, though the room appeared unchanged.

His gaze flicked to the blankets across from his nest, disturbed and rumpled as though someone had once laid there but had since vanished. Who could it have been? Where could they have gone? Adam snorted, shaking off the eerie thought and lifting his arm to wipe his nose—only to freeze. His arm refused to move. Panic prickled through him as the realization struck—he couldn’t move at all. Not from lack of trying, but as if some unseen force held him bound. His muscles twitched in resistance as he struggled to turn his head, to glimpse what had become of his nest.

His heart skipped as his gaze fell on something strange—where there had once been worn-down pillows and tattered cushions, his nest was now lined with iridescent feathers, shimmering in every colour of the rainbow. They were soft, thick, and crossed in intricate patterns, moving in a slow, rhythmic rise and fall, as though breathing. The sensation was alive, unnervingly alive.

A delicate rattle reached his ears, and his eyes darted down toward his feet. There, nestled in the feathered confines, was the golden tail of a rattlesnake, shaking with a soft, deliberate rhythm. The tail was framed by white and blue feathers, scales glimmering like jewels in the dim light.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. What in the world...?

Adam blinked slowly, his eyes tracing the length of the feathered serpent coiled around him. The creature’s scaled body shimmered with hues of gold, green, and blue, each intake of breath making the gleam more hypnotic. A shiver crawled up Adam’s spine as he became acutely aware of the soft, warm breath against the back of his neck, the nuzzling pressure sending goosebumps across his skin. His heart quickened at the realization of the black and green clawed hands draped protectively over his middle, holding him close in a tender embrace.

The Nephilim—Lucifer—had wound himself around Adam, claiming the nest and transforming it into something far more luxurious and warmer. Adam felt the temptation to surrender to it, to drift back into sleep with this divine being wrapped around him. But curiosity gnawed at him, and with a slight wiggle, he managed to shift from his side onto his back. A sigh escaped his lips as the weight of Lucifer settled more comfortably against him, familiar and intimate.

Lucifer’s face, sharp yet beautiful, nuzzled against the hollow of Adam’s throat, before brushing against his chest, his cheek nestling there as if Adam’s body had been made just for him to rest on. Gold and crimson eyes, both ethereal and dangerously alluring, peeked up at Adam through long, dark lashes. The Godling’s sinuous form coiled tighter, his body still tangled around them both, turning the nest into their shared sanctuary.

"Good morning," Lucifer greeted with an almost childlike yawn.

His full, red lips parting wide to reveal snake-like fangs nestled in the roof of his mouth. His soft tongue flicked out as he stretched, a small pearl of moisture gathering in the corner of his right eye. It was a sight so innocent and disarming, yet so utterly otherworldly.

“Morning,” Adam replied, blinking down at the divine being draped over him. His gaze flickered toward the rumpled blankets across the flat. “Didn’t I leave you over there last night?”

Lucifer hummed in response, pressing his cheek tighter against Adam’s chest, his purring breath vibrating softly through his body.

"It was too cold over there," Lucifer murmured, the words low and sweet, “And you looked so much more inviting.”

The Godling peeked up with a mischievous gleam, his forked tongue flickering out briefly, teasingly. His claws, sharp yet gentle, twined up Adam’s arms, gripping his shoulders possessively.

 “And you’re so warm...” Lucifer purred, his voice a sultry whisper, laced with affection.

Adam’s breath hitched as heat flushed his cheeks.

“O-Oh,” he stammered, a high-pitched sound escaping his lips, not quite a gasp, not quite a whimper, as Lucifer pressed a kiss to his collarbone, the touch light but electric. “W-Well, um... maybe you should... move?”

"Move?" Lucifer’s crimson eyes widened, and he scoffed in mock offense, snuggling in closer, his pouty lips brushing against Adam’s chest. "Why would I ever do that?"

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but his words were swallowed by a sharp yelp as Lucifer’s teasing escalated. The Nephilim raised his head, his lips trailing like whispers across Adam’s chin, nipping playfully before pressing a series of feather-light kisses down his throat. His long tongue flicked over the exposed skin, cool and soft, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake.

Adam’s body tensed, his pulse quickening under the tender assault, but somewhere deep inside him, beneath the rush of embarrassment and surprise, there was a warmth, a comfort in being so adored, so cherished. And even as his mind raced for words, for some semblance of control, his body relaxed instinctively, surrendering to Lucifer's affectionate embrace.

Adam’s breath hitched sharply in his throat, his eyes widening as Lucifer leaned over him, the weight of his presence suffocating yet intoxicating. Lucifer’s red and gold eyes gleamed with a light that seemed to steal the very air from Adam’s lungs, leaving him helpless under the godling's gaze. He hadn’t noticed before, but now, as the light shifted, Adam could see the soft feathers—red and white—sprouting amidst Lucifer’s golden hair, glistening with a divine glow.

“Adam~” Lucifer’s voice was a seductive melody, the sound wrapping around Adam like a caress.

He grinned wickedly, his tail rattling softly in delight. His eyes grew heavy-lidded, his cheeks flushed with an almost feverish warmth as he lowered his face closer to Adam's. The slow, deliberate movement sent shivers down Adam’s spine, and his lips parted in a soft, breathless whisper.

“W-What are you doing?” Adam managed to ask, his voice trembling with both anticipation and shyness.

Lucifer’s lips hovered a mere inch from Adam’s, and the godling released a soft, teasing whistle, his claws tracing up Adam’s throat in a slow, deliberate caress. His fingertips brushed against Adam’s cheeks, sending sparks of sensation through his skin.

“You’re my mate,” Lucifer murmured, his voice low and sultry, “And mates show their affection like this~”

Before Adam could fully process his words, Lucifer’s lips pressed gently against his. The warmth of the kiss was overwhelming, soft yet insistent, as Lucifer purred against him, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He moved his lips tenderly against Adam’s, licking lightly at his bottom lip as if savouring the taste of his phoenix mate. The sensation was dizzying, and Adam’s heart raced wildly in his chest, his body trembling under the gentle onslaught.

Lucifer’s fingertips traced the faint specks of ash dusting Adam’s skin, lingering over them as if they were precious relics. As he broke the kiss, Lucifer’s lips trailed along Adam’s cheeks, pressing soft kisses to each speck as if worshiping the remnants of what Adam had once been. Adam’s breath stuttered, his body burning with the unexpected tenderness.

“Adam, you’re so cute~” Lucifer purred, his voice thick with affection.

He tilted his head, rubbing his cheek against Adam’s like a cat marking its territory, his skin warm and comforting. Adam felt the heady rush of Lucifer’s pheromones filling the air around them, a scent that made him feel simultaneously vulnerable and desired. Though Lucifer lacked a nose, he still buried his face in Adam’s throat, nuzzling against his pulse before inhaling deeply.

“And you smell so nice too~”

“That’s not possible,” he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. Adam made a face, his brow furrowing. “I failed in the rebirth... I don’t have any pheromones.”

Lucifer pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and certainty.

“Oh, but you do~” he said with a grin, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “You do. I can smell them, and they’re wonderful~ “

Lucifer licked his tongue along Adam’s cheek, dragging it towards his throat. A gasp escaped Adam as Lucifer’s mouth searched for his Omega glands. “Mingled with mine, it’s even better~”

Adam’s cheeks flushed crimson, his heart pounding at the thought. Lucifer’s words were laced with a dangerous kind of charm, one that made it hard to think clearly, let alone resist.

Lucifer's hands glided over Adam's body, his sharp, clawed fingers teasing at the fabric of Adam's worn shirt. Feathers, soft and delicate, shivered along his skull, slowly sprouting through the cascade of golden curls. With a mischievous smile, Lucifer pressed his face close, nuzzling against Adam, drenching him in his intoxicating scent with playful delight.

Adam gasped, his breath hitching as a sudden wave of dizzying heat flooded his senses. His entire body quivered, his breath shallow and ragged as warmth overwhelmed him. It was only made worse by Lucifer's much warmer body winding even tighter around him, the end of his serpentine form vibrating with soft, rumbling purrs.

“Adam~” Lucifer giggled, stretching luxuriously above the trembling Phoenix Omega. He took Adam's hand, guiding it gently to his cheek. “Do you like me? Don't you think I'm the perfect mate for you?”

Adam’s mouth opened and closed, unable to form a single word as steam, impossibly, began to rise from his flushed skin. He was completely lost, his thoughts a tangled mess. Just yesterday morning, he had resigned himself to the belief that he would never have a mate—that no one would ever find him worthy. After Lilith’s brutal rejection, he had been certain he would live, and die, alone. Yet here was Lucifer—a Nephilim—claiming to be his destined mate, his perfect match. Adam couldn’t even begin to process it all.

“Does my beauty leave you speechless?” Lucifer purred, his cheek, rosy and warm, pressing sweetly into Adam’s trembling hand, a soft, teasing coo escaping his lips.

Lucifer’s gaze softened as he looked down at Adam, his claws brushing gently along his jawline, tracing the delicate curve of his face. His voice, usually laced with mischief, carried a note of sincerity now, and the teasing grin faded into something more tender.

“I missed you; you know?” Lucifer whispered, his voice a soft murmur, his breath warm against Adam’s skin. He nestled closer, his body winding protectively around the Phoenix.

“I didn’t know it at first... but I’ve been searching for you for so long. I didn’t find anyone else in the Pentagram, no one, favourable.” He chuckled lightly, the sound rich and warm, vibrating through Adam’s body. "They were all too... predictable. But you—you're different."

Adam blinked, still trying to grasp the strange situation unfolding around him. His heart fluttered, an odd mix of disbelief and warmth swirling in his chest. He could feel Lucifer’s heartbeat against him, steady, reassuring.

“But... you’ve only just met me,” Adam managed, his voice a breathless whisper.

Lucifer’s eyes twinkled, his smile softening.

“I’ve known you longer than you think, Adam,” he said, pressing a kiss to Adam's temple, the light touch sending a shiver through Adam's body. "You may not remember, but I’ve been watching, waiting for you to be ready. My father, Quetzalcoatl, always insisted that his children venture into the Middle Realm to find their chosen mates. He believed there was something special about the creatures of Earth. Something... unique.”

He sighed softly, resting his forehead against Adam’s. “But I... I didn’t care about following in my siblings’ footsteps. I thought I was better off alone, that no one could be my equal.”

Adam, despite the overwhelming heat in his body and the fluttering in his stomach, found himself curious. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened intently. “So why did you change your mind? You didn’t want to come here... but you did.”

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, his fingers continuing their gentle exploration of Adam’s skin. “Gabriel, my brother... he was the last of my siblings to descend to Earth. He told me the creatures here had changed since our ancestors' time. That they were no longer simple beings... but something more, something mysterious. Something worth finding.” He paused, his lips curving into a soft smile. “And he was right. When I saw you, I knew. You are everything I’ve been waiting for. No one else compares.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his mind racing. “But... how? Why? I thought you’d see us as... monsters,” he asked, his voice shaky but laced with genuine curiosity. “Is it true? The legends of Quetzalcoatl?”

Lucifer chuckled softly, a deep rumble in his chest as he nuzzled closer, his forehead resting against Adam’s. “Most of what the Pentagram monsters believe... it’s true,” he murmured. “My father did indeed descend to the Middle Realm long ago. He saw something in humanity, something that the other realms could never understand. He believed in love, in connection. And he passed that down to us, his children. But the creatures of this world... you’re not monsters, Adam.”

His golden eyes sparkled with warmth as he tilted Adam’s chin up, their gazes locking. “You’re beautiful. Flawed, yes... but that’s what makes you so special. You make me feel something I didn’t think I was capable of.”

Adam’s heart raced, his cheeks flushed with both heat and affection. He had never imagined someone like Lucifer could exist, let alone choose him. And yet, here they were, tangled together in something that felt surreal, but at the same time, perfectly right.

Lucifer smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Adam's forehead, his voice dropping to a low, affectionate whisper.

"You're my perfect mate, Adam. My other half... the one I've waited for. And I’ll never let you go."

Adam’s chest swelled with a warmth he couldn’t quite explain, but for the first time in a long time, he felt wanted. Truly wanted. He leaned into Lucifer’s touch; his eyes fluttering shut as a soft sigh escaped him.

Lucifer’s smile widened, and there was a certain gleam in his golden eyes as he began to recount the story of his father. Adam, still cradled in his arms, listened closely, intrigued by the ancient history.

“My father, Quetzalcoatl, wasn’t just some deity overseeing the Middle Realm. He was a creator, a god who shaped this world with his own hands,” Lucifer began, his voice filled with reverence. “But it didn’t start peacefully. No, the world was born from conflict. My father’s brother, my uncle, Tezcatlipoca, wasn’t so fond of this place. The two of them fought fiercely, their power clashing until they caught hold of a monstrous creature, splitting it into pieces.”

Lucifer’s hands gestured dramatically, his feathers flaring out as he spoke, his enthusiasm contagious. “Those pieces became the earth and the sky. Quetzalcoatl took the land, the seas, the life, while Tezcatlipoca... well, he wanted nothing to do with it. He retreated to the underworld, far from the light and life that filled my father’s world.”

Adam’s breath hitched; his attention completely captured. “So Quetzalcoatl was the one who stayed? Who nurtured everything?”

Lucifer nodded, his fingers lightly caressing Adam’s arm. “Exactly. In the beginning, my father created the first humans—Steve and Eve. He wanted to see them thrive, to live in harmony in the paradise he had made. The garden they lived in had everything they could have ever wished for, a perfect world just for them.”

Adam's brows furrowed in thought. “Steve and Eve... I’ve read about them. They were supposed to be the first, right? The first humans.”

Lucifer nodded solemnly. “Yes, but my father didn’t expect humans to be so... fragile.” His voice lowered, tinged with sadness. “Eve was the first to fall. She ate a rotten apple, a fruit that had been tainted, and it poisoned her from the inside out. My father tried everything to save her, but it was too late. The disease had spread through her body, and she passed.”

Adam’s heart ached at the thought. “That’s awful... and Steve?”

Lucifer sighed deeply, his feathers trembling slightly as he continued. “Steve was heartbroken. My father thought of making him a new wife, but Steve... he couldn’t bear it. The grief overwhelmed him, and he threw himself from the highest cliff in the garden, choosing to follow Eve in death rather than live without her.”

Adam stared at Lucifer, his chest tightening. “I didn’t know... that’s not in the textbooks.”

Lucifer chuckled softly. “Not all stories are written down, Adam. Some are passed through whispers, through bloodlines.” He shifted closer, pressing his forehead gently against Adam’s, his breath warm on his skin.

“Humans turned out to be far more complicated than my father had expected. Fragile, yes, but dangerous too. They couldn’t survive alone, without guidance. So, my father decided that the next breed of life had to be stronger. More resilient, less susceptible to disease, hunger, or the whims of the weather.”

Adam’s eyes widened with curiosity. “How did he do that? How did he create something stronger?”

Lucifer’s smile returned, his pride in his father’s tale shining through. “He went to the underworld, where Tezcatlipoca resided. He carried the bones of Steve and Eve with him, determined to give life to something new, something better. At first, my uncle refused. Tezcatlipoca had always blamed Quetzalcoatl for creating life without reason, for being too sentimental. He believed everything my father made would eventually fail.”

Adam leaned forward, captivated. “But your father didn’t give up, did he?”

“No,” Lucifer replied, his voice brimming with excitement. “Quetzalcoatl challenged Tezcatlipoca. And despite all my uncle’s tricks and deceptions, my father won. He’s strong, Adam, stronger than anyone. Tezcatlipoca, in his defeat, showed my father something he had created in secret, emerald, green bones, pulsing with strength and power, far greater than anything in the Middle Realm. Those were the bones my father wanted to use to remake Steve and Eve.”

Adam blinked, awe filling his features. “Emerald bones... that’s incredible. So, Tezcatlipoca just... let him take them?”

Lucifer grinned widely, his eyes gleaming. “Not exactly. Tezcatlipoca never gave anything away freely. He agreed, but on one condition—there had to be a blood sacrifice. A tribute, made to him, from the creatures that would take over the new world.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. “Is that why there were... blood sacrifices every hundred years? Is that why those rituals existed?”

Lucifer shrugged casually, though his grin remained. “Blood is important to us. It’s the essence of life, the price for power. Even my father respects it, as much as he loves his creations. And Tezcatlipoca... well, blood was the only currency he ever valued.”

Adam sat back, trying to absorb the weight of it all. The myths, the legends, they were all so much more real than he had imagined. “I never knew... I didn’t realize the sacrifices were part of the deal.”

Lucifer chuckled, his fingers gently brushing through Adam’s hair as he nuzzled closer. “It’s all part of the balance, Adam. Life and death. Creation and destruction. My father understood that better than anyone.”

He paused, a warm, affectionate look crossing his face as he gazed down at Adam. “I’m proud of him, you know. Of his strength, his love. He fought for this world, for beings like you... and for beings like me.”

Adam swallowed hard, his heart thudding in his chest as he gazed up at Lucifer. There was so much love, so much reverence in the way Lucifer spoke of his father, and Adam could feel it radiating off him. It was infectious, drawing Adam closer into the warmth of Lucifer’s embrace.

Lucifer smiled, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Adam’s forehead. “And now you, Adam, you’re part of that incredible story now. My father’s legacy... it lives through you, too and our children.”

“Children?” Adam squawked, his eyes growing wide.

A laugh escaped Lucifer and wiggled his form up against Adam’s. His long slim arms sliding around Adam, pinning him to the bottom of the nest. His cherry-red lips shined as he brought them close to Adam’s.

“That’s right. Our children~” Lucifer cooed, his eyes growing dark and hungry. “I’m gonna fill you up! We’re going to have at least five litters~”

“What?” Adam gasped, shuddering as Lucifer rolled their hips together. “W-Wait – I’m – I can’t carry five litters!”

Nipping at Adam’s throat, Lucifer moaned softly. “Don’t worry. We’ll take turns.”

“Take turns?” Adam repeated with a brilliant blush spreading across his face. “What breed are you-“

A sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate moment between Adam and Lucifer. Adam froze, his entire body going rigid as his breath caught in his throat. Lucifer, however, merely glanced toward the door, his expression one of annoyance, his lips curling into a displeased pout.

"Who dares interrupt us?" Lucifer muttered irritably, his feathers ruffling with irritation.

From the other side of the door, a voice rang out, sultry and commanding. "Adam? It's Lilith. Open the door."

Lucifer’s frown deepened the instant he felt Adam’s reaction. His heart raced wildly, his skin flushing hotter, and a cold sweat broke across his forehead. Lucifer tilted his head, his sharp golden eyes narrowing at Adam.

“And who’s that?” he asked, his voice dripping with judgment.

Adam, suddenly panicking, leapt to his feet, throwing a frantic look at Lucifer. “Hide! You must hide, now!”

Lucifer blinked, completely caught off guard as Adam bundled him up within his arms and practically throw him inside the cupboard.  

“Adam, what—” he started, but before he could finish, he was unceremoniously thrown inside. He let out a startled yelp as he tumbled into the small, cramped space, landing in an ungraceful heap.

Rubbing his head, Lucifer pouted, glaring up at Adam through the cracks of the cupboard door as the Phoenix hurriedly explained. "You need to stay quiet, okay? Don’t make a sound, don’t come out, nothing. Lilith is dangerous, and if anyone finds out about you... I don’t know what’ll happen.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to protest, but Adam was already closing the door, leaving him trapped inside the dark cupboard.

Lucifer grumbled to himself, his pride bruised, but his curiosity piqued. He realized the wooden panels of the cupboard door could be tilted slightly, and he carefully adjusted them, allowing him to peer through the cracks. He watched, both irritated and confused, as Adam frantically straightened his clothes.

Adam caught sight of himself in the mirror, grimacing as he noticed the blood smeared across his body and his tattered clothing. Lucifer, unimpressed, could only roll his eyes as he watched Adam try to make himself look more presentable—though there was only so much that could be done.

Finally, Adam opened the door, and Lucifer’s feathers bristled in recognition. Standing there was an Alpha Jorōgumo, Lilith. She was tall, imposing, with an almost predatory grace. Without hesitation, Lilith pushed her way into the flat, her nose twitching as she immediately caught the scent of fresh blood hanging in the air.

Adam awkwardly closed the door behind her, but before he could say anything, Lilith spun around and grabbed his arm with surprising strength. Her eyes were sharp, glittering with suspicion.

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice sharp and biting. Adam flinched, unable to speak as Lilith’s grip tightened. “How did you get out of Quetzalcoatl’s temple? How weren’t you caught?”

Adam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He could barely form a thought, let alone a coherent answer. Lilith’s questions came fast, firing off like bullets. “And how did you get back here? What’s going on? Are you not hurt?”

“Lilith, are you okay?” Adam finally managed to stammer, though his voice was shaky and strained.

Lilith ignored his question entirely, her eyes narrowing as she launched into a rant.

“The other Jorōgumo... we found them, scattered around the temple. Dead. Ripped apart and drained of blood.” Her voice dropped, her tone becoming almost curious, even impressed. “Whoever did it was strong. Impressive, really. The Jorōgumo are not easy to take down, let alone an entire herd.”

She paused, her sharp gaze finally flicking around Adam’s flat, taking in the sight of the blood splattered across the room. Her eyes lingered on Adam’s poor excuse for a nest, the telltale stains of blood within it. A slow smirk spread across her lips.

“At first, I thought it was your blood,” she murmured, her voice dark and low. “But no... the scent in here is too rich. It’s not just you. There’s the scent of multiple people... multiple bodies.”

Her eyes gleamed with a sinister hunger as she turned her gaze back to Adam, taking in the sight of him—dishevelled, covered in blood, and clearly panicking.

Adam’s stomach twisted in knots as he looked down at himself. He pulled at his clothes nervously, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not my blood...”

Lilith’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “I know,” she purred, taking a slow, deliberate step toward him. Her eyes were dilated with want, her breathing shallow.

“It’s the blood of my clan. And you—” She closed the distance between them in a flash, pinning Adam to the wall, her body pressing against his. “You took them down, didn’t you?”

Adam’s face flushed with heat as Lilith’s breath brushed against his skin. He tried to squirm away, but her grip was firm.

“I... I didn’t do it,” he stammered, his heart racing in his chest.

Lilith wasn’t listening. Her eyes were glazed over with something dark and dangerous as she leaned in closer, her voice a low, seductive whisper.

“I’m impressed, Adam. I might even consider you as a mate.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, his panic rising as he tried to slip out from under her. “I didn’t do it!” he insisted, managing to duck out of her grip and back away. His eyes darted toward the cupboard, hoping Lucifer was staying hidden, though the situation was becoming more dangerous by the second.

But Lilith followed, her gaze predatory, never leaving him.

“Oh, don’t be modest,” she purred, her voice laced with amusement. “Who else could’ve taken down that many Jorōgumo? You’ve impressed me, Adam... and that’s not easy to do.”

Adam’s pulse quickened, his mind racing as he backed further into the flat. He needed to figure out a way to get her to leave before she realized just who, or what, was hiding inside his cupboard.

His thoughts were cut of when Lilith suddenly grabbed him. Her strong hands yanking him close and her face pushing into his throat, inhaling his scent sharply. His body prickled, his skin twitching and hairs standing up on. Adam’s eyes grow wide, and his mouth gapped.

“W-Wait, Lilith, you don’t understand-“

“You don’t smell of anything, but that’s alright.” Lilith said, running a hand down his back. She tilted her head back to look up at him with hooded, glassy eyes. “I’m going to fuck you, Adam. I’ll make you come so hard that you won’t be able to see straight. If I knew how strong you really were all this time, I would have bedded you like you wanted months ago.”

A laugh escaped her. Lilith opened her mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Her spider fangs beginning to stretch out towards him. “Who knew. You just had to kill one of my sisters and I’d become all hot and bothered.”

“Lilith, wait-“

Lilith's fingers clamped around Adam's chin, her grip firm and possessive as she pulled him closer, her eyes dark and predatory. Their lips hovered dangerously close; her breath warm against his skin. Just as Adam’s heart raced in pure terror, sensing her venomous intent, a bone-rattling screech echoed through the room, so sharp and fierce it could have split the heavens.

Lucifer exploded from the cupboard with a roar that shook the very walls. His serpentine body unfurled with startling speed, scales glistening in the dim light. His six massive wings, glowing with an otherworldly power, burst from his back, filling the room with a blinding light as they unfurled.

In the blink of an eye, Lucifer was upon them, moving with the swiftness of a predator. His long, coiling form wrapped protectively and possessively around Adam, spiralling around his torso, shoulders, and head, his immense wings shielding the trembling Omega from Lilith's sight.

Lucifer's sharp teeth flashed dangerously as he hissed at Lilith, his entire being radiating fury.

"How dare you touch my mate!" he spat, his voice low and venomous.

Adam stumbled in the embrace of Lucifer’s coils, his hands instinctively reaching up to steady himself as the Nephilim's sinuous body wound tighter around him. His vision was blocked by Lucifer’s enormous wings, and he found himself clinging to the serpentine form just to keep from falling over.

Lilith gasped and stumbled backward; her eyes wide with shock. She had never seen anything like Lucifer before, and the sheer presence of his dark shadow, now growing monstrous and dragon-like, sent a shiver down her spine. She struggled to find words, but all she could do was stare at the terrifyingly beautiful creature before her.

"Adam is mine," Lucifer snarled, his eyes glowing like molten gold, filled with anger and protectiveness. "He belongs to me! No one—no one—is allowed to touch him, let alone mate with him, but me!"

His wings flared wider, and he loomed over Lilith, his entire body exuding a terrifying dominance. "Leave, or I’ll devour you, just as I devoured your precious Jorōgumo clan."

Lilith’s eyes flickered with fear as she stumbled back further, her confidence and seduction evaporating in the face of Lucifer’s raw, terrifying power. Without another word, she spun on her heel and hurried out of the flat, slamming the door behind her. Her presence disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Even after the door had clicked shut, Lucifer didn’t release Adam right away. His body remained coiled protectively around him, his wings still shrouding Adam from the world. He waited, eyes locked on the door, until he was certain Lilith had truly gone. Only then did he slowly unwind himself, but his anger still simmered just beneath the surface.

Lucifer turned on Adam, his eyes blazing with hurt and frustration.

"How dare you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "How dare you even entertain the idea of mating with someone else when I’m here? How could you let her get that close to you?!"

Adam, still a little shaken, held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Lucifer, I—I wasn’t trying to! I didn’t want that," he stammered, trying to calm the furious Nephilim. "I don’t like Lilith like that. She’s an old friend from when we were kids."

Lucifer’s anger flickered, but it didn’t vanish. His golden eyes narrowed, his wings rustling restlessly behind him.

"She was all over you," he snapped, his jealousy clear in every word. "And you didn’t stop her."

Adam took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Lilith isn’t interested in me that way, not really," he said gently. "She’s a Jorōgumo, Lucifer. She only wants strong, powerful mates, someone who’s worthy of her. And I’m... I’m not that."

The words made Lucifer’s expression darken with renewed frustration. His voice dropped to a near-growl. "Is that what you want, then? Do you wish she was interested in you? Would you rather have someone like her instead of me?"

Adam sighed softly and stepped closer, cupping Lucifer’s cheeks with both hands. The warmth of Adam’s touch stilled Lucifer’s angry energy, though the tension in his body remained.

"I used to wish she was," Adam admitted, his voice soft but honest. Lucifer’s whole body stiffened at the confession, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. But Adam wasn’t finished. "I thought if Lilith showed any interest in me, then maybe... maybe I wasn’t as hopeless as everyone said. That maybe I wouldn’t be alone forever."

Adam’s eyes softened as he continued. "But that was before... before I found you again."

He smiled, his heart swelling with emotion as he looked into Lucifer’s glowing eyes. "Before I felt you calling to me like you always have. And now that I know you’re real, that you’re here, I can’t imagine being with anyone but you."

Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat, his golden eyes widening as Adam’s words sank in. For a moment, he was stunned into silence. Then, his anger melted away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming tenderness. His wings folded inward, brushing against Adam gently, protectively.

"Does this mean..." Lucifer began, his voice soft and almost shy for the first time, "you’ve accepted being my mate?"

Adam blushed deeply, his cheeks turning a soft pink as he averted his eyes for a moment, feeling bashful. But then he nodded, his gaze returning to Lucifer’s with absolute certainty.

"Yes," he said quietly but firmly. "I love you, Lucifer. I’ve always loved you. Even when everyone told me you weren’t real, I believed in you. And now that I know you are... I don’t want anyone else."

Lucifer’s entire face lit up with pure, unbridled joy. He smiled, wide and radiant, his wings shimmering with happiness as they gently curled around Adam once more.

"Adam..." he breathed, his voice full of love and wonder.

In that moment, all the tension, the jealousy, and the fear melted away. There was only them—two souls intertwined, finding each other again after so long. Lucifer leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against Adam’s forehead in the gentlest of kisses.

"You are mine, then," Lucifer whispered, his voice soft and filled with awe. "And I’m yours."

Adam blushed even deeper but smiled, resting his head against Lucifer’s chest, feeling the steady, warm rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Always," he whispered back, his arms wrapping around Lucifer’s serpentine form.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Adam felt whole.

[segadores-y-soldados]

i remember in your "apocalypse now" essay that you mentioned the hero twins and how reaper and sombra could play into the role and i decided to read up on it. one of the twins literally loses his head in part of the story; its temporarily replaced by a pumpkin so he can continue the trials. cough cough reaper Halloween skin

OH GOOD CATCHJust as a head’s up, Imma also drop this here: http://segadores-y-soldados.tumblr.com/post/159728931935/reaper-and-soldier-american-cultural-references So people don’t get lost on where I pulled “The Headless Horseman” from.Reaper’s Pumpkin skin is like 99% Headless Horseman.  Now, this doesn’t mean it invalidates the connection!  I would just be cautious because I don’t know how much research Blizzard has done on the Mayans and pre-contact Mesoamerican cultures at large.  I would caution some skepticism that Blizzard has “properly done their research” - they seem to have done some research for Sombra, Los Muertos, and LumériCo, but we should bear in mind that this same team initially based Dorado of a random seaside town in Italy.  I think the development team has improved but we should be wary about attributing depth or meaning or intention to their work that may not be there.That said, pumpkins were native to North America before the Europeans brought them back to Europe.  “Jack-o’-lanterns” were actually cut from other squash before pumpkins were brought over, and the Headless Horseman is an amalgamation of “European mythology” such as Jack-o’-lanterns and dullahan combined with “new” American mythologies, from a variety of sources such as West African tales and Native indigenous stories, concepts, and materials.  Día de los Muertos is a fusion holiday combining All Saints Day with the pre-contact Aztec festival in honor of Mictecacihuatl, the Lady of the Dead (who also is transformed post-contact into Santa Muerte/La Muerte).  Offering food, “skulls,” marigolds, and amaranth on private altars or the graves of family members are activities and ceremonies passed on to modern Día de los Muertos festivies from the Aztecs, mostly the Mexica.  I certainly don’t think it’s a far stretch of the imagination that Reaper/Gabriel loves both Halloween and Día de los Muertos (if you interpret his heritage as Mexican), and that part of his love and appreciation for the dual holidays is their historical and mythological origins.  Expanding beyond this, however, is outside of my area of expertise and would be something I would defer to Latinx/Latinx-American Overwatch fans instead.  

[recentanimenews]

From Mesopotamia to Mesoamerica: The Real History Behind Fate/Grand Order: Babylonia’s Heroic Spirits

Out of all the Fate anime, Fate/Grand Order has far and away the most servants. Babylonia alone has a massive cast of historical and mythological figures from around the world, many from some of humanity’s oldest myths. From Latin America to the Middle East, Babylonia features Servants from every walk of life you can imagine and quite a few you might not have heard of! With so many names to keep track of, it can be tough to remember what legends all of these Servants came from, so we’ve put together a handy guide to who these heroes are and what legends they come from.

  Read on to find out where each of these Servants hails from historically and how their Fate personalities stack up to the real legends that inspired them! 

  **Watch out for spoilers ahead!**

Gilgamesh

    First up is a character you might be familiar with from other Fate anime: the King of Heroes himself, Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh (also known as Bilgamesh) is an interesting one since he’s the only Servant here who’s both historical and mythological. There very likely was a man named Gilgamesh who ruled the city of Uruk about 4,500 years ago (he’s really that ancient), although most of what we know about the details of his reign comes from The Epic of Gilgamesh, a collection of stories from about 1,000 years later. The Gilgamesh of the epic is a powerful but tyrannical king who the gods decide to humble by creating Enkidu to act as his opponent. Instead, the two become close friends and go on many adventures together until Gilgamesh insults the goddess Ishtar and kills the divine bull the gods send as retribution, driving them to kill Enkidu as punishment.

  Mourning Enkidu’s death and struggling with the thought of his own, Gilgamesh goes to the underworld to seek out the herb of immortality, only to have it eaten by a snake right after he retrieves it. The Gilgamesh we see in Babylonia is him as he was after his journey to the underworld: cocky and arrogant, but tempered by a sense of duty to the people of Uruk. Now that’s someone who deserves the title of “King of Heroes!”

  Enkidu/Kingu

    Next we have Enkidu, an integral part of every Gilgamesh legend. Enkidu is described in the epic as a powerful, hairy man, radically different from the genderless shapeshifter in Babylonia. What remains the same throughout, however, is their close friendship with Gilgamesh. Though they were initially meant to be enemies, Enkidu and Gilgamesh quickly became inseparable, going on all sorts of adventures until Gilgamesh’s ill-fated encounter with Ishtar ultimately led to Enkidu’s death.

  Kingu, the person in Babylonia who uses Enkidu’s likeness, is completely different; they’re cruel, violent, and completely loyal to Gorgon. The mythological Kingu was a child of the primordial goddess Tiamat who was killed alongside her by the god Marduk and used to create humanity. This explains Kingu’s rage, although they seem to have something of Enkidu still hanging around…

  Ishtar

    Ishtar (also known as Inanna) is the goddess of love, sex, war, political power, and a whole host of related concepts, as well as the patron deity of Uruk. Her worship even predates The Epic of Gilgamesh by over a thousand years and continued until at least the 19th century! For such an enduring goddess, Ishtar wasn’t always the nicest of gods. She destroyed a mountain for challenging her, tried entering the underworld to prove her strength, and indirectly brought about Enkidu’s death after Gilgamesh rejected her advances. Even so, as a goddess of both love and war, she was widely revered in ancient Sumer, as well as the numerous civilizations that succeeded it over the centuries.

Babylonia’s version of Ishtar is actually pretty faithful to the myth: she watches over Uruk as a guardian deity, but is also self-centered and capricious, although that’s tempered by Rin’s good nature shining through. Without that keeping her grounded, it’s easy to see how this same person could cause so much destruction, especially with the power she’s displayed as a war goddess. There aren’t any stories about her hair color changing at night, though…

  Gorgon

    If you know anything about Greek mythology, you’ve probably heard of the Gorgon Medusa. (Content warning for mention of sexual assault.) Medusa was a snake-haired demigoddess who, after being raped in Athena’s temple, was cursed to turn anyone who looked at her to stone. Having become a monster, she was later killed by the Greek hero Perseus. Medusa can very easily be read as a tragic character, a victim of circumstance and capricious gods. Her myth gives her every reason to hate humans, which perfectly explains her portrayal in Babylonia. Her class, Avenger, is reserved for Servants who are defined by a grudge they can’t let go of, a source of hatred that drives their every action. Who would fit this better than a demigoddess who was repeatedly wronged and turned into a monster?

  What’s more, Gorgon the Servant has borrowed power from the Sumerian goddess Tiamat, a primordial goddess of saltwater and chaos who gave birth to many of the other gods, only for them to later usurp her husband and kill her, creating the world from her body. As a combination of two deities with grudges against humanity, it’s no wonder that Gorgon poses such a threat to Uruk.

  Jaguar Warrior

    Unlike the other gods here, Jaguar Warrior isn’t based on one specific god as much as a general representation of the Maya jaguar deities. The Maya (as well as many other cultures from the region) had numerous myths and gods associated with the jaguar, the most prominent being Kinich Ahau, the sun god who also rules over the underworld at night. Kinich Ahau was also a god of war, which explains Jaguar Warrior’s fighting skills.

  Of course, the Servant we meet in Babylonia takes most of her personality from Taiga Fujimura, Shirou’s teacher in Fate/Stay Night, so she doesn’t act particularly divine here.

  Quetzalcoatl

    Though he’s fairly obscure now, Quetzalcoatl is a name that few ancient Mesoamericans wouldn’t have heard of. Quetzalcoatl (known as Kukulcán to the Maya) was worshipped by many civilizations throughout the region, although the Aztecs’ beliefs are the best documented now. To them, he was the god of dawn, dusk, air, and learning, and was heavily associated with Venus, which was known as the evening star. Some stories even present him as the creator of humanity. The prominence of his myths explains why Babylonia’s version is so strong, even compared to other gods like Ishtar. Aside from that and her flying snakes (Quetzalcoatl literally means “feathered serpent”), Fate’s interpretation is pretty different from the myth.

  Aside from her gender being different, her personality largely comes from her fondness for Mexican wrestling, known as lucha libre. From her wrestling moves to her love of going all out in battle, Quetzalcoatl has fully embraced the lucha spirit that developed in the land that once worshipped her. Her portrayal here may not be particularly accurate, but that doesn’t detract in the slightest from her charm!

  Merlin

    Merlin is the sort of Servant whose fame precedes him. Whenever you have a tale about King Arthur, Merlin's going to inevitably show up. Ironically enough, Merlin's legends originally had nothing to do with King Arthur. His earliest stories come from Medieval Welsh folktales about Myrddin Wyllt (Myrddin the Wild), a mad prophet who was said to live in the wilds with animals. The writer Geoffrey of Monmouth borrowed from this legend when he was creating some of the earliest Arthurian stories and turned Myrddin into the prophet Merlin. As more people added to the legend, this version of Merlin evolved into the wizard we see in today's Arthurian legends.

  In the later legends, Merlin is the child of an incubus and a human woman, endowing him with supernatural powers and the ability to see the future. He uses his abilities to guide and sometimes manipulate Arthur along his path to become king, which is the portrayal that Fate emphasizes. This Merlin embodies the fae trickster side of the character, generally helping out but keeping certain secrets of his own. Even his downfall, brought about by his angering the Lady of the Lake, is pretty close to the actual legends. Tricks aside, Merlin has already proven to be an invaluable ally, and no doubt will again soon enough.

  Ushiwakamaru

    One of only two Japanese Servants in Babylonia, Ushiwakamaru is also one of the most famous warriors in Japanese history. Ushiwakamaru was the childhood name of Minamoto no Yoshitsune, a famous general from 12th century Japan who helped establish his (Yoshitsune was actually a man) older brother Yoritomo as Shogun, only to be killed by Yoritomo’s forces after the latter grew jealous of Yoshitsune’s fame. Yoshitsune was a military genius, winning battle after battle in Yoritomo’s name, including the famous Battle of Dan-no-ura, which was also the inspiration for one of Ushiwakamaru’s Noble Phantasms.

  Even today, Yoshitsune is an integral part of Japanese pop culture, appearing in numerous films, plays, novels, and anime over the years. With such an enduring legend, it’s no wonder Fujimaru admired her so much. Her gender may not be historically accurate, but her fighting skills certainly live up to her legend.

  Musashibou Benkei

    Benkei is as integral to the story of Yoshitsune as Enkidu is to The Epic of Gilgamesh. Benkei was a famous warrior monk who swore loyalty to a young Minamoto no Yoshitsune after losing to him in a duel. From then on, Benkei accompanied Yoshitsune through thick and thin, even staying loyal when both were on the run from Yoritomo. If anyone doubted his loyalty, Benkei’s death put that to rest. Trapped in a castle and surrounded by enemy forces, Benkei chose to defend the bridge into the castle while Yoshitsune went inside to commit ritual suicide.

  Benkei ultimately killed over 300 enemy troops by himself before dying to arrow wounds. What’s more, the survivors didn’t even know he was dead until they got in close because he straight up died standing! Of course, this Benkei is a little different, being another one of Yoshitsune’s retainers who took on the name after the original Benkei’s death. Even so, he may yet share some of the original Benkei's valor.

  Leonidas

    Last but certainly not least is Leonidas I. He was the king of ancient Sparta who led the Greek forces against the Persian army at the Battle of Thermopylae, and later stayed behind with a rear guard of 300 Spartans and about 1000 other Greek troops to allow the remaining Greek forces to retreat. Though Leonidas and his men were ultimately killed, it came at the cost of 20,000 Persians and allowed the other Greeks to successfully retreat and regroup.

Babylonia’s Leonidas lives up to that spirit, holding the line against Gorgon and her demonic beasts even at the cost of his life. His Noble Phantasm, Thermopylae Enomotia, even summons forth the Spartans who fought with him, which proved to be a powerful weapon against Gorgon. Though he’s gone now, Leonidas’ valor once again proves why his story is still remembered after over 2000 years.

  Who’s your favorite Servant? Let us know in the comments below and don’t forget to watch the latest Babylonia every Saturday!

Watch Fate/Grand Order Absolute Demonic Front: Babylonia!

    ---

  Skyler loves writing and chatting about anime, and is always ready to gush about the latest One Piece chapter. Read more of his work at his blog apieceofanime.com and follow him on Twitter at Videogamep3.

    Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[nofomoartworld]

Art F City: SLIDESHOW: Mexico City Galleries, Part 2

Mural by Rurru Mipanochia at ArtSpace Mexico.

Last month, I checked out what was on view at some of Mexico City’s galleries during the art fairs. Over the past week, I stopped by a few more. Highlights include Rurru Mipanochia at ArtSpace Mexico (bastion of queer contemporary art), SANGREE at Yautepec, and Mauricio Limón at Galería Hilario Galguera a few blocks away. Today is the last day to see Mauricio Limón’s show, and I highly recommend it.

All three very different solo shows share one thing in common: they mine Mexico’s turbulent post-colonial history with a sense of humor. Strategies range from queering pre-Columbian cosmology or hybridizing Mayan and classical European pottery to recycling imagery from currencies that failed in the face of globalization. Notably, none of this work comes across as bitter or preachy.

Rurru Mipanochia: Xochiquetzal: erotismo y procreación.

Rurru Mipanochia, from the “Xototl” series.

ArtSpace Mexico Campeche 281, Condesa, 06100 Ciudad de México Curated by Benjamín J. M. Martínez On view until March 31

Rurru Mipanochia’s solo show at ArtSpace Mexico, which spans several years of pre-columbian-codex-inspired drawings, is undoubtedly one of the best and strangest things on view in the city. Think Aztec deities with breasts and dicks squirting menstrual blood (and other bodily fluids?) all over each other, sometimes wearing punk clothes and high heels.

The exhibition gets its name from Xochiquetzal, goddess of feminine sexuality, fertility, and women’s crafts. (Ironically, the colonial Catholics later associated her with an apparition of the Virgin Mary). Appropriately, her twin Xochipilli watched over male prostitutes, homosexuality, and artists. But there’s a whole pantheon of gods and goddesses referenced here, often with anatomy that blurs the lines between those distinctions, sometimes in bondage gear, shoving or expelling objects into/from whatever orifices Rurru has dreamed up.

The drawings, mostly marker and day-glo acrylic paint on paper, have a casual-but-fetishistic vibe that’s really endearing—like someone’s very private sketchbook. At the risk of losing that quality, these would translate so nicely to editioned screenprints. I totally would’ve bought one.

I somehow didn’t notice this until I was leaving, but the whole outer street-facing wall of the gallery is covered in Rurru’s murals. I can’t believe ArtSpace got away with this (it’s a small compound in the middle of a posh neighborhood). I can only imagine what the well-heeled neighbors think of a bunch of queer mythological creatures fucking out their windows.

SANGREE: The Grand Design

Yautepec Melchor Ocampo 154-A, Col. San Rafael, Del. Cuauhtemoc, Mexico, D.F. 06470 On view until April 8th, 2017

SANGREE, the collaborative name of Carlos Lara and René Godínez Pozas, has an ambitious yet deceptively sparse installation up at Yautepec. The work comprises a series of wall-mounted pictograms of gestures from handshakes to handjobs and a maze-like cinderblock construction topped with faux-antiquities. What appear to be ceramics are in fact papier-mâché fakes—mashing-up Greco-Roman and Mayan designs in finishes ranging from dayglo airbrushing to appliqued crushed glass. In contrast to the somewhat-sterile aesthetic of the rest of the space, these have an awkward handmade charm.

I saw The Grand Design with Whitney Kimball, and she wasn’t quite as sold on these (she found the various deceptions and misdirections employed here to be overly “masculine”). The show’s driving concept (we were told) is a tribute to hands as the basis of civilization. This includes communication and bonding (gestures, handjobs) to architecture and functional crafts. Neither of us likely would’ve gotten that without the explanation from the gallery staff. I didn’t find that to be an issue—there’s a certain satisfaction that comes with feeling like a future archeologist trying to decipher the ruins of a cryptic civilization. And nearly every component of this show has a nice reveal when you get up close to the work. For example, the hand graphics look like black foamcore from a distance. On closer inspection, they’re meticulously carved black granite. Considering how minimal the install reads at first, each of these details comes across as a precious surprise.

Mauricio Limón: This note is legal tender for all debts public and private (Pagará a la vista al portador)

Galería Hilario Galguera, Installation View

Galería Hilario Galguera Francisco Pimentel 3, Colonia San Rafael, México DF 06470 On view until March 17th, 2017

This show is also a slow burn, in a totally different way. The install recalls an anthropology museum, with pairs of panels hung in plexiglass vitrines under dim lighting. What’s missing here is didactic text—there’s clearly a deliberate concept behind the artifact-like abstract works here but it’s not immediately clear what that is. In each set, the top panel is a carefully glazed oil painting of mostly solid color blocks. Beneath it, the corresponding panel is a lithograph of intricate designs. Without knowing anything about the show (including the title) it took us a minute to realize what we were looking at. Some of the works are evocative of architectural renderings, old video game landscapes, or ceramic decorative motifs. Others could be a kimono fabric print or graphic design from Star Trek. Eventually, it occurred to us that they’re unfamiliar currency—devoid of any text, denomination, or portraiture.

Specifically, it turns out, these are based on various defunct notes from Mexico’s turbulent 1980s. They were utterly unknown to us, because the bills we’re used to now are technically “New Pesos”, a currency launched in 1993 in response to a decade plus of inflation and capital flight following the 1970s oil crisis. Stripped of monetary value, the left-behind imagery stands as a testament to a 20th century society’s ambitions and uncertain identity—from allusions to the petroleum industry and architectural patrimony to futuristic graphics. If you’re a fan of late modernist design (like me) you’ll appreciate these immensely. Perhaps tellingly, each of the panels (all untitled) is so different. There seem to have been an awful lot of denominations and no one unifying motif. Given the recent fluctuations of the current peso, this show feels not only nostalgic, but timely.

More recent Mexico City coverage:

We Went to Gabriel Orozco’s OXXO

SLIDESHOW: Mexico City Galleries, Part 1

Museum Punk Show in Need of A Sound Guy

Material Light on Substance, Heavy With Dick Pics

Slideshow: Zona MACO, The Art Fair Where Commerce and Politics Make Strange Bedfellows

We Went to Mexico: General Idea at Museo Jumex Restored Our Faith in Art For Fuck’s Sake

We Went to Mexico: Barbara Kruger and Juan Pablo de la Vega Take the Subway

The Timelessness of Sex, Violence, and Portraiture: Otto Dix at MUNAL

from Art F City http://ift.tt/2nAmgBD via IFTTT

[lilacwriter07]

I have no words this is just amazing, looking forward to the next chapter !!!

Lilith is such an ugly soul smh

hello! here is my new omega au! i do hope you like it! it is loosely based on aztec and mayan mythology, with other mythology added in to make an interesting story, i hope.

this was originally inspired by @lilacwriter07's ask where they wanted some more omega adamsapple, and they allowed me to be more creative! do not worry, lilacwriter07, your ask will be in this au! i have it already written out; i just want to get the 'back story' out first! expect part 02 in a day or so, then your ask!

ahhh! i really can't wait for everyone to read this and let me know what you think!

Promised Soul part 01

From a tender age, Adam knew he was unlike anyone else. His parents were breathtaking, with sculpted bodies and elegant frames. After their ash-fall, they had become even more radiant, effortlessly attracting admirers. Their skin was bronzed by the sun, their hair rich and thick like a lion's mane, and their eyes, large and glistening, held an otherworldly allure. They embodied beauty and fully embraced their heritage.

But Adam was different.

On the morning of his tenth birthday, Adam awoke with a peculiar excitement. A strange, burning sensation churned deep within his gut, coiling up into his chest. Lying beneath the lush red-and-green feathered blankets his grandmother had lovingly woven, his lips curled into a broad grin. Eagerly, he kicked the blankets aside, rolled off the bed's edge, and raced to the mirror. Practically bouncing on his pear-shaped feet, he twirled before the mirror, eyes wide with anticipation, searching for any telltale wisps of smoke rising from his skin—the first sign of the ash-fall. But there was nothing.

Adam's reflection stared back at him, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. Leaning closer to the glass, he tugged lightly at the soft padding of his cheek.

"I've gone grey," he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.

Straightening his young body, Adam twisted and turned, desperately trying to glimpse his form from every angle. There was no steam, no smoke, no ethereal transformation seeping through his flesh. No glittering specks of lava freckles adorned his skin—another sign of the ash-fall. Instead, he looked... burnt out.

"Why?" he muttered, a deep frown etching across his face as he took a step back. His shoulders sagged, arms falling limply at his sides. "Why am I...?"

The morning was spent in a frantic attempt to disguise his appearance. He wasn't meant to look like a fire that had sputtered out before ever truly igniting. Adam bundled himself in thick, oversized sweaters, a medical mask, and a woolly hat, gloves, and scarf to match. When his mother saw him, she laughed, trying to peel away the layers, but Adam resisted until his father intervened, scolding him. Apparently, it was dangerous to be wrapped up so tightly.

He would never forget the look on their faces when they finally saw him. The horror, the tears, the screams—they had cut him deeply. Before his tenth birthday, his parents had been loving and attentive, their days filled with family outings and warmth. But everything changed after that fateful day.

Adam became the family's failure—the one who couldn’t burn like his cousins. Even Elly, his younger cousin, had her ash-fall the following month. His mother had broken down in tears that day too. No matter what Adam did, it never seemed to bring a smile to his mother’s face or draw his father's gaze.

Was he truly such a disappointment?

By the time he turned eleven, when no one even bothered to acknowledge him, Adam had begun to wander away from the family fire. He ventured through the oversized, thick branches and towering trunks of the forest he called home—Eden, the forest of flames, nestled at the leftmost point of Pentagram City. All his life, Adam had been repeatedly warned never to leave Eden.

The world beyond was far too dangerous for someone as fragile as him; his flame would be easily extinguished, or worse, stronger and more terrifying creatures would snatch him away. His mother had always assured him that once he experienced his ash-fall, he would be free to explore the city like everyone else... but that day never came. He was weaker than anyone imagined, more delicate than they had feared, and now, no one would care if he disappeared. No one noticed as the little, scrawny ash boy slipped away from the gathering of families and neighbouring clans.

Sniffling, Adam inched forward, his flat, grey feet sliding over the warm, red bark of the thick branches. He moved cautiously, with the delicate care of someone who knew that a single misstep could be his last. He had no fiery wings to catch him if he fell. A broken bone would mean certain death, for no one would come to save him—he’d be left to perish alone.

Adam had heard stories of Pentagram City and the beings that lived within it. Pressing himself against the trunk of a flame tree, he peered into the quaint countryside just beyond Eden. Scattered across the landscape were large red rocks that gradually gave way to the more structured outlines of a city. Squinting, Adam spotted a towering temple at the city's heart. It appeared to be made of stone, but from this distance, he couldn’t be sure.

He could see little else from his vantage point. Adam knew that Pentagram City had five points, with Eden being one of them. The other four points housed powerful clans of other beings, and the closer they lived to the temple, the more numerous and lesser the creatures became.

According to what little he had heard, a god resided in that temple, but Adam knew nothing about the deity or its role in Pentagram City. Did this god rule the city? His curiosity gnawed at him as he continued to stare at the distant structure, hoping for a glimpse of something—anything—divine. But there was nothing.

Sighing deeply, Adam let his head fall against the tree, his eyes drooping with a deep, sorrowful frown. He knew he should return; if he stayed away too long, he’d be forgotten, and no food would be saved for an ugly bird like him. His lips trembled as the thought crossed his mind, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. A sob escaped his lips...but something cut through his cry.

Adam blinked in surprise, straightening as he rubbed his grey lips together. He glanced around, his heart racing. He could suddenly hear a strange sound.

Adam pursed his flat lips, tilting his head as he strained to catch the sound again. It was like singing—a soft, whistle-like tune, reminiscent of the birds that flitted among the branches of Eden. His wide eyes darted around the trees, scanning the fiery foliage for any sign of who—or what—was making that eerie melody. But the sound wasn’t coming from above, where the branches intertwined like a tangled web of flames. It was coming from below.

With cautious, tentative steps, Adam edged closer to the red branch's edge and peered down at the golden, knee-length grass that blanketed the ground far below. The grass shimmered under the harsh glare of the white sun, each blade sparkling like a thread of liquid gold in the light. He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. Would anyone notice—or even care—if he dared to climb down? They had always drummed it into him: never set foot on the ground until your wings had formed or at least until a few feathers had sprouted from your arms.

But then again, nobody would care. He was the disappointment, the one who would never fly.

Determined, Adam inched forward, but everything happened so fast. His vision blurred as his foot slipped, sending him tumbling down the bark of the giant tree. The flame trees were far from smooth; their surface was gnarled and blistering, scorching his skin as he skidded downward. His body scraped against the rough bark, his descent a painful blur, until he hit the ground with a sickening crack. His feet throbbed with pain, and he shakily inspected them—a bitter reminder that they were still soft and delicate, not the sharp talons his family bore with pride. His uncle's sneering words echoed in his mind: pathetic.

A gasp escaped Adam, his body aching all over, his arms limp and unresponsive. It took everything in him just to sit up, and when he did, tears flooded his eyes. His uncle’s jarring, smug voice rang in his ears, scolding him for being so foolish. No one would care—they would only find sick amusement in his accident.

A soft, strangled sob slipped from his lips, slow and tentative at first. His face crinkled, scrunching up as the overwhelming wave of sadness crashed down, twisting painfully in his chest until it finally burst forth. Adam let out another gasp, his sobs growing more desperate, his tears falling in a relentless stream over his ash-grey cheeks. He drew his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, and buried his face, sobbing into the crook of his arms.

Everything poured out of him—the disappointment of not burning from the inside like all the others before him, the sense of failure that gnawed at him every day. The way his mother looked at him now, with a hollow sadness that tore at his heart, and the way his father couldn’t even bear to glance in his direction. His cousins, aunts, and uncles, their cutting comments and cold stares. The way the elders had dismissed him, deeming him unworthy to be paired with another in the clan. Typically, the year after an ash-fall, the elders would pair them up, but Adam had been brushed aside, not even a consideration.

The more he cried, the harder it became to stop. He felt as though he might choke on his tears, as though the sadness would consume him entirely. Eden was quiet, the ever-burning inner flames of the trees casting a warm, flickering light around him, but it felt so distant, so cold.

“Why are you crying?” a sudden voice asked, cutting through the haze of his despair.

Adam’s breath hitched. He squirmed, peering up through tear-filled eyes at the figure standing over him, staring down with glassy red-and-gold eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out—only more tears.

The figure appeared to be young, about his age, perhaps eleven. They were shorter than Adam, which was surprising given that he was often teased for being small. The stranger let out a quiet sigh and carefully sat down beside him, not so close that their elbows would brush, but not so far that Adam felt completely alone.

Adam continued to cry, his sobs echoing softly in the golden grass. The stranger stayed with him, silent and still, their gaze fixed on the swaying blades that shimmered in the gentle breeze. After what felt like an eternity, the figure finally tilted their head toward Adam, extending a hand that hovered hesitantly above his trembling shoulders before finally resting there. They began to rub his back in small, slow circles.

“There, there,” they murmured, their voice flat, almost emotionless. “There, there, don’t cry.”

Adam continued to sob, his tears soaking into the earth as he curled into himself, trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind. The small hand resting on his back was oddly warm, a gentle contrast to the cold world around him. The warmth was even more surprising considering Adam’s lineage, his bloodline intertwined with the very essence of fire.

When his sobs didn’t subside, the mysterious figure beside him made a low, soothing sound deep in their throat. They shifted closer to Adam, their stiff hand continuing its rhythmic motion along his back. With a soft, deliberate motion, they straightened and tilted their head skyward, cherry-red lips parting ever so slightly. A familiar melody, one that Adam had heard before, slipped from their lips, echoing through the quiet streets of Eden, the flickering heart of Pentagram City. The stranger’s voice was enchanting, a gentle hum that filled the air with a comforting warmth, even in the darkest corners of the city.

Adam blinked through his tears, rubbing his hands over his tear-streaked face. Slowly, he lifted his head, his gaze wandering wearily around before settling on the figure beside him. He sniffled, trying to blink away the lingering sadness, as he watched the stranger sing softly, their voice wrapping around him like a tender embrace. For the first time, Adam felt a comfort so deep, it was as if the very air around him had transformed into a protective cocoon, holding him in a way he had never known.

The person beside him was unlike anyone Adam had ever seen in Eden. They seemed to belong to a different world entirely. Their skin was a pale, milky white, with a delicate flush of red framing their cheeks. Golden, fluffy curls crowned their head, with two tufts of hair playfully resembling horns. Their lips, full and stained a deep cherry red, contrasted strikingly with their mismatched eyes—one a gleaming gold, the other a deep crimson. Adam’s gaze drifted down their form, noticing the black and green claws adorned with rings of lush crimson feathers at their wrists. As he looked further, he saw green and red feathers peeking out before spilling around their hips, forming a long, soft-looking tail in place of feet. Scales of blue, red and white blended well into the tail.

“Do you feel better?” the stranger, now clearly a boy, asked, his voice soft and melodic.

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes catching Adam’s. A mesmerizing array of green, blue, and purple scales shimmered across his neck, trailing up to his pointed ears, making him appear even more otherworldly and enchanting.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his heart stuttering in a way it never had before. He had never laid eyes on a creature so mesmerizing, so otherworldly. The boy was beautiful, ethereal in a way that made Adam’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. He quickly rubbed his face with both hands, trying to hide the flush that spread across his skin, and managed a weak, shaky smile.

“Yeah, um, who... what...” Adam’s voice faltered, his words stumbling as his mind raced to catch up. His brows knitted together in confusion. “I mean, what are you?”

The boy snorted softly, his long, colourful tail flicking to the side with a playful grace. His lips curved into a deeper frown, and for a fleeting moment, Adam glimpsed two sharp fangs peeking out from behind those cherry-red lips. “That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? Asking someone’s breed like that.”

“Oh!” Adam squeaked in horror, his eyes widening with panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

But before Adam could finish his apology, a ghost of a smile twisted across the boy’s lips, and a low, rumbling laugh escaped him.

“I know. You’re just a baby,” he said, his tone gentle, almost teasing, as if Adam’s innocent curiosity amused him.

Adam blinked furiously, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, struggling to find the right words. The boy beside him tilted his head slightly, a sly smile playing on his lips as his gold and red eyes flickered across Adam’s face.

“I can tell you’ve never left your home before,” he mused, his voice smooth and knowing. “You’ve never seen anyone outside your clan, let alone someone like me. If you knew who you were talking to, you’d probably be beside yourself.”

“Huh?” Adam pouted, his confusion deepening. “Are you someone important, then?”

“Something like that,” the boy replied, rolling one glittering, scaled shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. Adam’s eyes immediately zoned in on the vibrant scales and feathers, captivated by their brilliance.

 “Why were you crying?” the boy asked, his tone softening slightly.

Adam lowered his head, leaning back against the crimson bark of the tree behind him. “Because I’m a failure,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The boy hummed thoughtfully; his head cocked to the side as if genuinely puzzled by Adam’s admission. His gold and ruby eyes half-lidded, slowly roving up and down Adam’s plain form. He clicked his tongue, revealing a long, serpent-like tongue that flickered between his lips. “Because you haven’t burned away like the others in your clan?” he asked, his tone curious rather than judgmental.

“You know about my family?” Adam asked, his curiosity piqued. How could this boy, who appeared younger than himself, know about his clan? Adam shook his head, his voice trembling as he continued, “I didn’t... I was supposed to transform last year, but I didn’t. I look... like this.”

Adam glared down at his powdery grey arms, turning them over with a disdainful frown. He loathed the sight of them, so dull and lifeless compared to the vibrant flames his kind was known for. Even the green in his eyes had faded to a milky white, making him feel like a shadow of what he was supposed to be. He understood why everyone made fun of him—he was ugly, unremarkable, and utterly forgettable.

“Nobody will ever want to mate with me,” he added, his voice thick with pain. His eyes began to water again as he spoke. “I’m ignored, pushed aside. Nobody wants to be my friend. My Ma and Pa can’t even look at me. I’m going to die alone. It won’t matter if I present as an Omega in the coming years. I’m undesirable. I didn’t burn. I didn’t turn to ash, and I certainly wasn’t reborn. I’m just... a fire that smothered itself before it could even burn.”

The boy was silent for a long moment, his blank gaze fixed on Adam. Finally, he spoke, his voice a soft hiss. “You will be an Omega?”

“Probably,” Adam replied, his tone hollow. “But it won’t matter to my elders. They haven’t even bothered to find me a match. I was supposed to have one this year so I could bond with them.”

Adam’s hands trembled as he spoke, his breath hitching painfully. His nose flared, and his lips quivered as the weight of his loneliness pressed down on him. Just as the first tear slipped down his grey cheek, the boy’s long, snake-like tongue darted out, licking it away. Adam jerked in surprise, his eyes widening as he looked at the beautiful boy beside him.

The boy’s black and green scaled claws gently wrapped around Adam’s hands, pulling them close to his face. He examined them intently, rubbing his claws along Adam’s fingers, pinching and turning them over as if searching for something hidden. His clawed hands then moved up Adam’s arms, seeming to probe for something unknown to Adam.

The boy’s golden and ruby eyes met Adam’s as his claws trailed over Adam’s shoulders and pressed down gently on his chest. A spark ignited in his eyes as he felt the steady beat of Adam’s heart beneath his touch.

“Just because you didn’t go through the ashfall doesn’t mean you are undesirable,” the boy said sternly, yet with a tender undercurrent to his words. “I don’t find you unpleasant to look at. In fact, I find you... interesting.”

“You do?” Adam whispered shyly, a shiver running up his spine at the boy’s words.

The boy nodded sharply, slithering closer. His beautiful tail flexed as he raised himself slightly above Adam, his face drawing nearer. “As for dying alone, I don’t believe that will happen.”

“How would you know? Nobody in my clan would want to bond with me,” Adam said shakily, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

“I never mentioned your clan,” the boy replied darkly, his eyes growing hooded and glassy. His long, serpentine tongue slithered through his lips once more, licking firmly down Adam’s cheek. “From this moment on, I will be your mate.”

Adam couldn’t speak, his mind practically short-circuiting. His skin prickled with sensation as his head tilted back, the boy beginning to rub his cheek against Adam’s in a possessive gesture, scenting him fully. Adam’s heart skipped a beat as he imagined returning to the nest with the boy’s scent on him. What would his family say? What would everyone think? But those thoughts melted away as the boy’s sweet, intoxicating scent filled Adam’s senses, wrapping around him like a warm blanket and making him relax.

“I think you’re a beautiful Phoenix, whether you have burned or not,” the boy purred softly, nuzzling into the crook of Adam’s neck.

“I’m Adam!” the unburned Phoenix blurted out, the words slipping past his lips before he could think. “What’s your name?”

The boy chuckled, pulling back to look Adam in the eye. For the first time, Adam saw a true smile on his lips, his mismatched eyes growing tender with emotion.

“Don’t forget your mate’s name. My name is—”

Then, as if caught in a dream, the gorgeous boy’s voice began to fade, dissolving into a soft, melodic hum that barely reached Adam's ears. The words, the name, everything slipped away like sand through his fingers. Adam remained seated there, at the very edge of Eden, as the world around him blurred, the sharp edges of reality growing hazy and distant. He blinked once, then twice, his gaze drifting in bewilderment as confusion clouded his mind. A deep groan escaped him, and he pressed a trembling hand to his temple, trying to make sense of what was happening.

But in the next breath, everything shifted. The vibrant colours and strange warmth of the encounter melted away, and Adam found himself waking up in his bed, nestled within one of the intersection buildings of Pentagram City. The familiar surroundings of his room greeted him, though the memory of the boy and that strange, fleeting connection lingered like a fading whisper in the corners of his mind.

The blaring shriek of his alarm clock sliced through Adam's skull like a jagged knife, but he didn't rush to silence it. Instead, he lingered in the moment, his pale, almost ghostly eyes fixed on the worn and cracked ceiling above him. Time seemed to stretch as he allowed his body to awaken slowly, letting the dull hum of the city seep into his consciousness. The buzz of distant traffic and the occasional honk gradually filtered through his fogged senses. Finally, with a languid roll, he turned to his side and slammed his hand down on the alarm clock, the sharp sound abruptly cut off. A low groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. His tousled brown hair stuck out in wild directions, and a sheen of sweat clung to his clammy skin. He was naked, tangled in a cocoon of blankets, quilts, pillows, and sheets—the softest of his belongings—some of which even included his old hoodies and sweaters, adding to the haphazard nest of comfort surrounding him.

Adam groaned again, raising his arms above his head as he stretched, his spine crackling with the motion. He dragged a weary hand across his face, releasing a heavy sigh just as the brief silence was shattered by the blaring music from above. The familiar sound brought with it the knowledge that his neighbours were at it again—lovers wrapped in their passionate dance, the Omega upstairs a notorious screamer, their cries cutting through the walls even with the music attempting to drown them out.

Grunting in irritation, Adam swung himself out of bed and trudged towards his ancient chest of drawers, their surface as battered and worn as everything else in his room. He kicked aside a few pillows and sheets that cluttered his path and yanked open the top drawer. Inside, a pink and white box sat waiting. He pulled out a slender stick from within and slipped it into his mouth, holding it beneath his tongue. He knew it would take ten minutes to work, though he could have shortened the time by using his Omega-Hood privileges, but Adam wasn’t about to take the easy way out.

His tired eyes, heavy with a burden that seemed older than his years, found his reflection in the cracked mirror propped on top of the drawers. The fissure ran down the left side, spider-webbing across the surface, distorting his already grim visage. Adam stared at himself, a grunt rumbling in his chest. Nothing had changed in the passing years; his skin remained ashen, his eyes still a lifeless grey, and his hair, brittle and dull, like leaves about to crumble in the wind. Beauty had eluded him, like the sun had missed him entirely while showering its warmth on the newborn Phoenix eggs.

His gaze drifted to the old, tattered calendar taped back together and hanging limply on the wall. His eyes were immediately drawn to the red mark on today's date, a small but significant reminder.

"Officially, I'm twenty," he murmured, pulling the stick from his mouth and holding it up to the dim light filtering through his dirty window. The glass was so filthy that even if it were the brightest, sunniest day, the view outside would still seem drab and lifeless.

The stick revealed four little green lines, and Adam let out a sigh of relief. "Perfect. My heat's over."

He tossed the stick into the trash bin with a flick of his wrist and turned his attention back to the remnants of his nest. He had already begun dismantling it, pillows and sheets scattered carelessly from his restless sleep. It looked forlorn and abandoned now, a poor excuse for what a Phoenix nest was supposed to be. His mother, may her soul rest in peace, would surely be turning in her grave at the sight of it. Adam couldn't help but feel the weight of her disapproval, even from beyond.

Ruffling his sweat-dampened hair, Adam felt the burn in his arms and legs as he began the tedious task of cleaning up after his heat. Each movement was a reminder of the exhaustion that still clung to his bones, but he pressed on, gathering up the nest he had meticulously built. Quilts, blankets, and pillows—all the soft, comforting things he had surrounded himself with—were tossed into the laundry basket, destined for a much-needed wash later today. The bed was next, stripped of its sheets with a practiced efficiency. He unclipped the Omega mattress protector, scrunching it into a ball before shoving it into a trash bag, another item to discard when he had the strength to face the world outside his small flat.

The air was thick with the remnants of his heat, a musky scent that clung stubbornly to the walls and furniture. Adam grabbed the air freshener, spraying it liberally around the cramped space, as if trying to erase every trace of the past week. He threw open the small, barely functional windows, letting the stale air escape, carried away by the weak breeze that drifted in from the city.

By the time he was done, the clock was inching towards noon, and the mated pair upstairs were still lost in their passionate tangle. The Omega’s moans and whimpers echoed through the thin ceiling, a constant reminder of what Adam had yet to experience. He found the Omega undeniably cute, with a charm that tugged at something deep inside him, but no matter how attractive he found them, the endless stream of exotic cries grated on his nerves. It was hard to ignore, and harder still to find any solace in it.

Eager to wash away the remnants of his heat, Adam stepped into his tiny, run-down shower. The water, predictably cold, cascaded over his body, but he didn’t mind. The chill was invigorating, a stark contrast to the oppressive heat that had consumed him for days. He scrubbed his skin, rough and thorough, determined to rid himself of the sweat and Omega fluids that clung to him like an unwanted second skin. He twisted and arched his back, trying to work out the knots that had formed during his restless sleep. The cheap soap and shampoo did little to soothe his senses, but it was enough to make him feel somewhat human again.

Stepping out, Adam shivered as the cold air hit his damp skin, but he knew it wouldn’t last. Even as an unburned Phoenix, the flame within his chest would soon chase away the chill, warming him from the inside out. His eyes caught his reflection in the mirror again, and a grimace tugged at his lips. He looked like a drowned rat, his hair plastered to his face in wet, lifeless strands, the same dull, powdery grey that never seemed to change.

But as always, after his heat, his hands drifted to his chest, pressing against the spot where his Phoenix flame resided. A shudder rippled through him, his entire body prickling with the memory of a boy who had once promised to mate him. The boy had touched him there, right over the flame, as if to reassure himself that it was still burning inside Adam, still waiting for the day it would ignite into something more.

A sigh escaped Adam's lips, the sound heavy with the weight of unspoken longing and unfulfilled promises.

The boy had vowed to mate with Adam when they both came of age, promising that Adam would never have to 'die alone' as he had always feared. Adam had been utterly captivated, lost in the daze of the boy’s pheromones that clung to him like a second skin for a full six months before they finally faded away. When Adam returned home that evening, his clan had been mildly surprised by the unusual scent lingering on him, but when the boy failed to make another appearance, they dismissed it as a fleeting act of pity. A moment of kindness from someone who, perhaps, simply felt sorry for him.

It was a thought that haunted Adam daily. Had the boy truly only felt sorry for him? The exchange of scents, though powerful, was harmless before the age of eighteen, a promise that only became permanent with the passage into adulthood. But the boy had never returned, not even when Adam crossed that crucial threshold into his eighteenth year. Eventually, the hope that had once flickered so brightly inside him dimmed until it was nothing more than a dying ember. It had been a lovely dream, a beautiful fantasy.

But Adam would never forget the boy. He had been mesmerizing, almost otherworldly. Adam had always believed the boy to be a young Naga, certain of it because of the serpentine tongue, the sharp fangs, and the tail that marked his kind. But after leaving Eden on his eighteenth birthday—driven by a desperate need to escape the suffocating presence of his family—Adam had encountered countless Nagas. Some were nearly as beautiful as the boy, but they all shared the same dark, muted colours: deep emeralds, midnight blues, and such dark reds that they bordered on black. Not one of them had the vibrant, luminous hues that the boy possessed. Nor did they bear a single feather.

This discrepancy troubled Adam deeply. He had scoured the ancient tomes in Pentagram City’s library, searching through histories and bestiaries, trying to identify what breed the boy might have been, but the answer remained elusive. The few times he had been brave enough to describe the boy to someone else, they had looked at him as though he had lost his mind. The disbelief in their eyes stung, and eventually, Adam stopped speaking about the mystery boy altogether. He forced himself to write it off as a fleeting encounter with a kind stranger who had noticed a child’s tears and acted on a momentary impulse.

Even so, the memory lingered, like a thorn embedded too deep to remove without drawing blood. The boy’s ethereal beauty, his enchanting presence, where things Adam could never fully let go of, no matter how much he tried to convince himself it was all just a dream.

Shaking off the lingering thoughts, Adam hurried out of his cramped bathroom and began dressing in clean clothes. He glanced at the overflowing laundry basket and groaned deeply. He hated this part—washing everything after his heat was not only a tedious chore but also an expensive one. It would cost him nearly fifty marrows, almost half of his paycheck, a price that weighed heavily on him. But he had no choice. He needed those fabrics, especially with summer approaching. If he went back into heat without them, it would be disastrous.

Dressed in an oversized green and red sweater that reminded him of the mystery boy’s feathers, and a pair of worn leggings, Adam grabbed the laundry basket with a firm grip and left his flat. He walked briskly, hoping to avoid running into the persistent Minotaur Alpha who prowled the apartment building. The Alpha had pursued Adam relentlessly, ignoring every rejection. His advances were aggressive, his intentions clear, but Adam knew better than to fall for the ploys of someone who only saw him as a conquest.

As an untouched Omega, Adam naturally emitted a scent that drew potential mates, especially other Omegas. Unfortunately, it mostly attracted the wrong kind—lowlifes who didn’t care about his failed Phoenix status. Respectful Alphas, Omegas, or even Betas wouldn’t approach someone like him. They knew better.

Relief washed over him as he entered the building’s laundry room and found it blessedly empty. Not even another Omega was using the machines. Perfect. This meant he could finish quickly and get back to the safety of his flat. He chose the washing machine in the farthest corner, placing his basket on top of the worn, cream-pink dispenser box, and then turned to survey the Omega laundry products.

There were countless options, each one more expensive than the last. Omegas required their fabrics to be soft, cuddly, and soothing to their sensitive skin, but this necessity came at a painful cost. Times like these made Adam wish he had presented as a regular Beta instead. As he scanned the shelves, his lips twisted into a frustrated pout. He clicked a few buttons on the dispenser, scrolling through strips of powders, washing cubes, and other options until he finally reached the heat detergent.

His breath caught in his throat as he stared at the updated price, disbelief flooding his system.

"They raised the price again?" he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers twitched as he pulled out his battered wallet, prying it open to count his meagre supply of marrows. "I can afford it... but it's going to make things tight until my next pay check..."

With a resigned sigh, Adam slipped the necessary marrows into the slot. The price was almost three-quarters of his pay, leaving him with barely enough to survive. He would have to go without food for a few days, but this was a non-negotiable expense. If he didn't wash his things, he wouldn't be able to face another heat, let alone the encroaching winter.

Reluctantly, Adam fed the shards of bone marrow into the machine and began the laborious task of washing the fabrics that had formed his nest. It took a few hours, each minute dragging by as he waited for the cycle to complete. Once finished, he practically ran back to his flat, the weight of his cleaned belongings both a comfort and a reminder of the price he had paid.

~#~

The air in Pentagram City hung dry and brittle, a result of the relentless drought that preceded the looming summer. Unlike the rest of the world, their seasons defied reason—twelve months without a drop of rain, only to be drenched by a year's worth of torrential downpours over two relentless months. Beneath the city's surface, a labyrinth of ancient tunnels crisscrossed, designed to collect and distribute this precious deluge throughout the city. Or so they claimed. But the truth behind Pentagram City's water supply held darker secrets.

Adam’s gaze was drawn irresistibly to the temple at the city’s heart, a monolithic structure that dominated the landscape, casting a permanent shadow over the five points of the city. It was an ominous sentinel, its presence forbidding and absolute. No one dared approach the temple. The stones that formed its foundation were hallowed, forbidden to be tread upon by any living soul. The city’s construction ended abruptly in the temple’s vicinity, leaving a barren expanse marked by ancient altars and crumbling pillars—sacrificial grounds that held the weight of centuries-old rituals.

Adam swallowed hard as he stood at the very edge of the city’s bounds, staring into the desolate expanse of the sacrificial lands. Though he had never witnessed a sacrifice, the grim tales and ironclad rules had been seared into his consciousness, an unshakeable knowledge that permeated every citizen's bone and blood. The time for a sacrificial offering was fast approaching, an event anticipated by every inhabitant of the city with a mix of dread and resignation. No one knew who would be chosen, but the offering was essential, a grim necessity to appease the ruler—the unseen protector of Pentagram City. A pact had been forged between the temple and the city’s founders centuries ago, a contract written in blood and shadow.

Adam bit his bottom lip, turning away from the looming temple. His gaze shifted to the stone statues that lined the boundary walls, their presence a silent warning to all who might dare to trespass into the sacrificial lands. The statues varied in form—some were massive, hulking figures with jagged edges, while others were small, smooth, and eerily delicate. The memory of the first time he had seen them remained vivid; a moment of sheer terror etched permanently into his mind.

The first time Adam had laid eyes on the God that watched over Pentagram City—the ancient protector who demanded sacrificial blood in exchange for life-giving water—he had nearly fainted. The memory of that moment still haunted him, a visceral experience that defied explanation. When he saw the statue, it was as though the earth had trembled beneath him, his vision blurring as a wave of fear and awe coursed through him.

And yet, as always, Adam found himself drawn to the carved effigy, like a moth helplessly circling a flame. A dull ache burned in his chest, and an elusive pressure gnawed at the edges of his mind, just beyond his grasp. The God of Pentagram City was a force unlike any other, a being so powerful that the temple had sprung into existence by mere thought alone. Crafted from massive stones of gold, ruby, and black, the temple was adorned with seven hidden emeralds beneath its foundation and seven more atop its spires. Legend held that the stones beneath connected to the world beneath the sea, where creation itself was born and where it would inevitably end. The stones above were said to channel the light of the heavens. Their God, a serpent-like entity, could move effortlessly between these realms, bringing with it waves of unnatural energy that pulsed through the city.

The God’s form was a blend of the serpentine and the divine—a colossal snake with wings lining its back, a face somewhere between a dragon’s and a bird’s. Feathers carved from stone trailed down its head, looping up its immense wings and down its tail, which ended in twin rattles. The underbelly was a shield of impenetrable scales. Though countless paintings and toys depicted the God’s likeness, none truly captured its terrifying presence. It had been over ten thousand years since the last blood sacrifice, but the signs were clear. The city was drier than ever, and the skies refused to yield rain. The God’s return was imminent, and with it, the cycle of sacrifices would begin anew. Only when the quota was met would the serpent God spread its wings and allow the rains to fall again, ensuring Pentagram City’s protection for another era.

Adam raised a hand, tentatively reaching toward one of the six feathered wings carved into the stone. This was why people thought he was mad. The mysterious boy who had once vowed to mate with him had a striking resemblance to their God—a likeness that seemed impossible. The God was not a mere boy, and it certainly had six wings. Adam’s mother had been furious when he refused to admit he had invented the boy, but he hadn’t! The boy was real. But Adam’s stubborn belief had only brought shame upon his family, leading his mother to commit an unforgivable act.

“What are you doing?” a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

Adam recoiled, his hand snapping back as if stung by the very air. His cheeks burned with a deep, humiliating flush, his fingers twisting together in a desperate attempt to contain his nerves. He forced a wide, exaggerated grin onto his face, though it wavered at the edges, barely masking his unease as the figure approached. “Nothing! Just admiring our lord and saviour!” he blurted, the words tumbling out too fast, too forced.

Lilith’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, slicing through his facade with terrifying ease. “I’ve told you never to touch those,” she hissed, her voice cold and unforgiving. The intensity of her glare made Adam instinctively step back, his bravado crumbling. “This isn’t just about your twisted obsession with our Deity. No one is allowed to touch the statues of Quetzalcoatl.”

Adam’s eyes flicked to the statues, their stone faces impassive, indifferent to his suffering. A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping as he wilted under Lilith’s icy disapproval. The guards stationed nearby seemed to close in, their presence suffocating. They were there to ensure that no one, not even a fool like Adam, would defile the sacred ground. The punishment for such a transgression was brutal, swift—beheading by the very guards who now watched him with thinly veiled contempt.

Lilith’s voice cut through the tense air, her frustration palpable. “I’m tired of turning a blind eye,” she growled, her tone low and dangerous. “Our past can only shield you for so long, Adam. One day, someone else will be on duty, and they won’t hesitate to take your head off.”

Desperation clawed at Adam, and he forced a teasing smile onto his face, though it felt more like a grimace. “Have I mentioned how sexy you are when you’re angry?” he quipped, his voice strained, pleading for a reaction that would soften the moment.

Lilith’s expression twisted in disgust. “Not even in your nightmares,” she spat, her words like poison.

Adam flinched but pushed forward, clinging to the hope that something, anything, could pierce her icy exterior. “Why not?” he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of his hope.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Lilith replied, her tone colder than ever. Her icy-blue eyes raked over him, each glance a cut. “Who would ever consider dating a burnout like you? You’re not even a real Phoenix.”

The words struck him like a physical blow, but Adam forced himself to keep smiling. He fumbled in his pocket, his hands shaking, and pulled out a small, sparkling stone. “I found something for you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “It reminded me of you.”

Lilith’s gaze hardened as she stared at the stone, her lips curling into a sneer. “I don’t want it. Why would I ever want something as tacky as that?”

Adam’s hand trembled violently now as he looked down at the stone, once so beautiful in his eyes. “I thought it was stunning,” he murmured, his voice hollow.

“It’s ugly,” Lilith snapped, her tone biting. “How many times do I have to tell you? I would never be interested in someone like you. I would never want you as my Omega. You’re pathetic, Adam. The other guards laugh at you every time they see you hanging around here, clinging to some delusion that I’d ever want to court you.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat, his vision blurring as he glanced back at the stone still in his hand. His arm, outstretched, felt frozen in time, a painful reminder of his foolish hopes. The whispers and sneers of the guards behind him echoed in his ears, a cruel chorus of his failure.

Lilith’s expression twisted into something darker as she snatched the stone from his hand, her nails scraping painfully against his skin. She held it up, barely glancing at it before locking her icy-blue eyes onto his. “This,” she hissed, her voice dripping with disdain, “is a terrible courting gift. If you were serious about trying to court me—which is laughable, by the way—this wouldn’t even scratch the surface of what’s required for the mating ritual. You’re the laughingstock of Pentagram City, Adam.”

“I-I…” Adam stammered, his heart constricting as Lilith carelessly tossed the stone over the wall of statues. It vanished in an instant, out of reach, gone forever.

Lilith’s patience snapped as she bared her fangs at him, stepping forward with a predatory grace. Her Alpha pheromones filled the air, suffocating him, forcing him to stumble back. “You can’t even handle a fully grown Alpha’s pheromones,” she snarled, her voice a low growl. “How could you ever hope to satisfy someone like me? And what’s worse, you’re not even a full Phoenix, Adam. There’s no passion in you, no true flame. You’re burnt out before you’ve even had a chance to ignite.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his world spinning as her words carved into him, each one leaving a deep, festering wound.

“We would never have worked,” Lilith continued, her voice unyielding. “I deserve better. So much better than… whatever you are.” With a sharp, decisive movement, she slammed her spear into the ground, the sound reverberating through the tense air. Her icy-blue eyes bore into him, and when Adam finally broke, bowing his head in submission, she relented with a sigh, almost rolling her eyes as she pressed her fingertips to her forehead.

“Adam, I get it,” she said, her voice softening slightly, but the damage was done. “I understand why you’re clinging to me. When we were children, I was your only friend, the only one who showed you kindness. I know how that must have seemed to you.”

Lilith paused, her expression hardening as if she were chiseling Adam’s fate in stone. “But you must accept it was a mistake, a misunderstanding. There’s nothing here for you, Adam. Nothing but pain.”

“We could never coexist together. Never. We are too different.” She clicked her tongue and took a step back, straightening her lean, sturdy form. Her body was a study in contrasts, her small waist giving way to thick, powerful hips and thighs that hinted at her lethal strength. Her chest was well-formed, her long golden hair streaked with black and grey that framed her face before fading back into gold. She was every inch the warrior, her beauty a deceptive mask for the predator beneath. “Maybe, if you had successfully burned as a Phoenix, there might have been a slim possibility. But since you haven’t, there is none at all. Absolutely nothing. We are far too different, and I am expected to birth strong offspring. My children are destined to continue the line of guardians for Quetzalcoatl’s temple.”

Her eyes locked onto Adam’s once more, and this time, he could see the sharp black slits within them, smaller blue eyes nestled within her primary ones, giving her a monstrous, otherworldly appearance. “Any offspring of yours would only bring shame and dishonor to my clan. Any children you produced with me would die the moment they left the nest, and I cannot bring such a curse upon my people.”

Adam swallowed hard, his lips trembling as he forced them into a tight, thin line. He nodded sharply, the truth of her words cutting deep. Lilith’s lineage was one of power, a female-only breed brought to life by Quetzalcoatl’s own webbing. They were guardians, trained from birth to fight and kill any who threatened their sacred charge. Adam had never seen Lilith’s true form, but he had glimpsed the warriors of Jorōgumo—deadly, alluring creatures who could transform from innocent beauty into deadly predator in the blink of an eye. They lured the unsuspecting with sweetness, only to devour them whole.

As a child, Adam had believed that Lilith cared for him, at least a little. She had never tried to devour him, never tried to ensnare him in her web like so many of her sisters and kin would have done to their ‘friends.’ She had been dismissive, yes, but she had also spent countless hours with him after he began venturing outside Eden. She had never once tried to lure him with sweet words or false promises, never tried to trick him into her web to be consumed. Adam had taken it as a sign that he was special, that their connection was special. But now, as her words sank in, he realized the truth: Lilith’s indifference was not a mark of affection, but of disinterest.

A true sign of love among the Jorōgumo was to be devoured after mating, to become sustenance for the next generation.

“I’m sorry,” Adam whispered weakly, the words barely audible over the roar of his own despair.

Lilith scoffed, her grip tightening around her spear. “Don’t be sorry. Just leave me alone. You’ve never been worth anything to me, let alone as a mate. Get your head out of the clouds.”

Adam nodded, a slow, defeated motion. He had hoped, perhaps against reason, that she might say something more, that there might be some spark of tenderness, however small. But Lilith’s icy-blue eyes remained fixed on him, glaring with a finality that chilled him to the bone. Realizing she had finished with him, that she needed him to leave, Adam offered a sheepish smile, his last shred of dignity, before scrambling past her and fleeing toward the city.

His eyes flickered to the other Jorōgumo women watching him, each one a vision of lethal beauty with golden and red curls framing faces of icy-blue indifference. Their gazes trailed after him, uninterested, as they began to whisper amongst themselves. He could feel their mocking laughter, even though they barely acknowledged his existence.

“I’m not gonna cry,” Adam muttered to himself, his voice breaking as he forced his legs to move faster. “I’m not gonna cry.”

But the pain clawed at him, a raw wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding. The Jorōgumo were a dominant breed, their ranks filled with Alphas and few Omegas. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t disguise themselves as an Omega to lure their prey. It hurt more than he could bear to know that Lilith, the one he had foolishly hoped might see something in him, viewed him as nothing more than a speck of dirt on her perfectly polished boot.

“It hurts,” he whispered, his breath hitching as he ran, the snickers of the Jorōgumo echoing in his mind. “It hurts so much.”

“I’m not gonna cry,” he repeated, the mantra hollow and meaningless as the tears he refused to shed stung his eyes.

“I’m gonna die alone.”