#maybe even giving them all wings of their bird counterparts too

[schwarzgeier]

God I'm never going to finish these wips, so I might as well post them and not let them rot in my folders. Too many thoughts ,not enough time.

[neptunescore]

hi pooks! can you write for brocedes with the random word hotel 🙈 lysm mwah mwah congrats on 600!!

Prompt word: Hotel | Pairing: Brocedes

The scene in front of him is breathtakingly beautiful.

A cacophony of blues, pinks and reds that intertwine and blur into each other, casting hues of gold into the sea as it begins it’s slow embrace of the sun.

Nico could stay here forever — watch the honeyed sunlight melt into deep waters till there's nothing left, and then wait right there as a new day passes and the cycle starts all over again — endless.

He shifts a little; his back sore from the uncomfortably-shaped balcony chair he's seated on, he knows Lewis is going to be cross with him later, is probably going to lecture him about self-care and what not, but the world champion is too tired to care about anything right now — let alone Lewis’ weird protectiveness over his health.

Nico sighs, he missed Lewis.

For all his infatuation with the sight before him, the blonde haired man would give it up in an instant if it meant having Lewis by his side again — the slow dance of blues and pinks and reds may take his breath away; but the soft golden-brown of Lewis’ skin, the infinite black of Lewis’ eyes, that— that left him with no air at all.

He’d been cooped up in this hotel room for a week now, lazily shifting between the bed and the balcony — an occasional trip outside sometimes; walking down streets shaded by never-ending trees, sitting on benches wrapped in leafy vines as he licked drops of melted ice-cream off his fingers.

Nico never wanted to leave. Wanted to spend the rest of his life like this. Didn’t even want to think about the plane ticket he’d placed in the bedside drawer.

A quiet ruffling draws the man out of his thoughts, blue eyes moving upwards as he tries to find the perpetrator of the noise.

There are two birds a few metres in front of him, brown feathers brushing against white ones, their wings stretched out and tense while loose talons tear against the clouds surrounding them. There is something wrong with the white one, it’s left wing crooked and bent, yet—

Oh. Nico’s eyes crinkle, lips curling softly. What a wonder it is, he thinks — watching where the brown sparrow had placed itself. To live. Right below the lower left side of it’s counterpart’s body. To love. Holding up the extra weight that the other could not.

“Man, what are you doing?”

The retired driver looks behind him, musings of wings and feathers vanishing immediately as a pout falls on his lips, “I missed you.”

“Nico-” A chuckle, I was gone for ten minutes.”

Nico sniffs haughtily, “ten minutes too long,” he frowns.

“Babe! I literally asked you if you wanted to come with me!”

“Yes. Well-”

“Oh shut up and come inside before the food gets cold. And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’re sitting on that chair again.”

Nico rolls his eyes, pulling himself up and arching his back as he steps inside — groaning in pleasure as he feels a few satisfactory pops, “I want a hug.”

“Oh my god, you are so clingy.”

Yet there are arms wrapping around him instantly, blanketing him in a cocoon of warmth and love that he lets himself melt into.

“You okay, babe?” Lewis asks quietly. And Nico can feel the sincerity, the care; he can already feel the tears forming, can’t really believe that he has this now — will have this forever. Maybe.

“You won’t leave me when we go back home, will you? When the season starts? I won’t be on the grid anymore.”

“Oh Nico. I’m not going to leave you ever,” Lewis murmurs into his hair, “I know I can’t change the past few years, but that's never going to happen again, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” A nod, beaded braids brushing against the skin of his face, “Never again.”

Dark lips graze against his closed eyes. Nico’s grip on Lewis’ sweater tightens, a sudden lightness in his chest.

Liv!!! Finally done with this for you, and honestly, I just had to do fluff bc I have read way too much angst abt them😔✋🏽. I hope this matched ur expectations, meri jaan💗 ALSO, in the time it took me to write this, I gained a 100 (A HUNDRED😵‍💫🤭) more followers!! So the happiness just keeps going<3

I have also just given up on finding aesthetically matching pics of the drivers😭 (I scoured pinterest for an hour bfr ending up on nico's YouTube vids and taking ss's from there🙂🔫)

ANWAY, FEEL FREE TO DROP BY WHENEVER POOKS (this goes to all of you)🫶🏼😘

Divider creds to @cafekitsune as always♡

Rules and details☆°•~

[adobe-outdesign]

I got a lot of thoughts now with Pokémon designs. I’m in love with cresselia and darkrai as a duo. But it would be interesting to see them more compliment each other. Like what if their body shapes were similar, rather than darkrai be an emo ghost and cresselia a pretty rubber ducky. I have other thoughts on others, such as the chikorita line and latias. Argh, part of my thoughts are from my nostalgia with Pokémon anime. What are your thoughts concerning darkrai and cresselia?

Cresselia at least represents its theme well, being based around good dreams as a counterpart to Darkrai's bad dream theme. The soft pastel colors are very pleasant, and the way the shape of the body invokes a crescent moon is a nice way to reflect its status as the lunar Pokemon.

However, there's just a lot of awkwardness to the design that I can't overlook, even if the overall shape is nice. For one, those ribbons around the body (apparently those are supposed to be wings?) don't connect to to anything and throw off the flow of the rest of the body. I feel like you need something there, but maybe two flowing ribbons that connect to the tip of the head, so that they flow back with the body shape?

Aside from that, those diminutive arms aren't really needed--after all, they're too small for it to use anyway--but at the very least, they should be blue to match the body so they don't feel so disconnected.

And in terms of the body as a whole, I feel like the shape could be improved. Like, I feel like the entire head literally could just be crescent-shaped instead of having that split headpiece, and that pink lump could be removed. Then if you got rid of the tail and just had the body be one entire crescent it would really streamline things.

And finally, while I like the colors in terms of looking appropriately soothing, they need more contrast. The yellow and blue are basically the same tint here; the blue needed to be darker or the yellow lighter, or both. Here's a quick five minute take on it (original on left), both increasing the contrast but also going for more of a purple to compliment the pink more and changing the arm color to match the body:

Final side note, why does the 'dex mention this thing having feathers? What? Where? I'm going to assume it's micro-down for my own sanity.

To answer your thoughts, I do think they could stand to have something in common with each other... but at the same time, I'll take two designs looking too different over looking too similar any day of the week.

Anyway, Darkrai has a pretty cool design, with a solid black body, flowing ethereal bits, and some spikes around its neck that kind of resemble teeth. What's particularly neat is that the legs are retractable:

Part of me wishes they were out constantly because it gives it an eerier, almost humanoid vibe, but on the other hand the way it only extends them to land like some kind of deranged bird really is neat.

I also like the lore behind it; that it causes nightmares but it (supposedly, depends on the medium) doesn't want to do this and isolates itself from others to prevent it, which is refreshing take on this kind of boogeyman character.

Design-wise, my main issue with it is once again the colors. In this case, it feels like the head and the "teeth" colors should be swapped, so that the "teeth" look more like teeth while the head wisp would look almost like a tongue. Or perhaps the "teeth" just become white and nothing else does. Point is that there's three colors only in the head and nowhere else and it's a little weird. I also wouldn't have minded some red points elsewhere in the design, though that's not a necessity.

So overall, I'd say Cresselia has some great Vibes but a pretty awkward design. Darkrai meanwhile has an effective and simple design that could use some color tweaks, but otherwise is effective for what it is.

[shoutaaizawas]

↳ keigo takami x fem!reader → ❝shiny things❞

summary: hawks has more bird-like tendencies than you initially thought. he likes to present you with odd items as gifts and finally you figure out why word count: 2,406 tags/warnings: fluff, hawks being a bird a/n: uhh i don’t know i love the bird man

sequel “preening”

masterlist

Dating Hawks was unusual for a list of reasons. He was a pro hero so that meant he was very busy, in the public eye, and couldn’t tell you everything. Then there was the way Hawks had been raised. After a while of dating, he trusted you enough to open up and tell you about his childhood. It shed a lot of light on the things he did in your relationship. But perhaps the least expected thing was his bird-like habits.

It wasn’t unusual for people with animal-like quirks the show similar traits to said animal. Selkie and Gang Orca came to mind although they looked more like their animal counterparts than Hawks did. Perhaps that was why you didn’t expect it from him.

At first, you thought he was joking. You had been dating for a while enough to know each other well enough to start to develop feelings. Hawks flew in to meet you for a coffee date in between work. The wind-blown hair and charming smile always made your heart skip a beat.

“Look what I found.” He said, his tone of voice sounded like an excited kid. He held out his hand present the shiny blue marble. You glanced up at him wondering if he was joking but he looked happy to present this offering. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt his feelings even if you didn’t quite understand.

“Wow, where’d you find this?” You asked taking it and holding it up in the light to examine it.

“I found it on patrol.” He said. “It was shining in the light and caught my eye. Don’t worry I washed it off.” He reassured. That almost made you laugh.

“It’s pretty.” You said. That wasn’t a lie, in its own way it was pretty but you could honestly say you had never met someone over the age of ten present a marble with such excitement.

“It’s for you.” He said with a smile that melted your heart. The sentiment wasn’t lost on you even if you were trying to wrap your head around it.

“Thank you, you’re too sweet.” You told him before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The next time that happened you were more prepared for it. It was a perfect day, the sky was clear, and the weather cool. The salty breeze from the ocean filled the air around you as you walked hand in hand with your boyfriend. The sun was sinking into the horizon leaving a beautiful sunset.

Hawks spotted something, his eyes widening as he let go of your hand and rushed forward. He leaned down picking up something from the ground. Brushing it off he stood and returned to your side.

“Look!” He said in an excited voice holding his open hand up to you. You smiled at the way his wings fluttered in excitement behind him.

“What is it?” You asked putting one hand underneath his as you looked. There was a small shiny green object, it almost looked like a rock.

“It’s a piece of sea glass! It’s normal glass that ends up in the ocean, it takes like fifty years of tumbling around in the water to look like this.” He said. Looking at it, it was pretty. The frosted texture was unique you realized as you picked it up. He closed your hand over it. “Keep it.” He smiled.

You smiled at him sliding the sea glass in your pocket for safekeeping. This wasn’t the last time that he gave you an odd gift with a genuine spirit. You always smiled when he presented the items with pride and excitement, his feathers puffed up.

It was a night that you were spending with Hawks at his fancy apartment when things started to make more sense. You had made him dinner and were enjoying a bottle of wine now.

Hawks wasn’t a drinker but since you met him you had gotten him to like wine. It wasn’t unusual for you to share a bottle. It always amused you the pink tint on his cheeks and how relaxed he got.

The view from Hawks balcony was nice, a perfect city skyline. The love seat there was comfy and so was your position resting against Hawks, one of his winds draped around you keeping you close and protecting you from the cold night. The candles lit around you gave off a dim glow.

You looked at your empty glass and his. As much as you didn’t want to get up you did want more wine so you would have to sacrifice your comfort for a moment.

“Let me get you more.” You said taking his glass in your hand before standing up. He made a noise of complaint at the loss of contact.

“I can get it.” He said. You leaned forward pressing a kiss against his lips, your free hand grazing his cheek.

“Let me, relax here. I’ll be right back.” You said before walking into the apartment. You entered his nice kitchen grabbing the bottle on the counter. There was enough for one glass. You looked at the full bottle on the counter. It wouldn’t hurt to open up another, you could always save the rest if you didn’t finish it.

Opening a drawer you looked for the wine opener. This one had normal utensils in it. The one below it had towels. It was the third drawer down that was odd.

It was full of random items, rocks, stray earrings, buttons, and other odds and ends. It wasn’t your usual junk drawer. All of the items had a certain shine to them. Your mind was immediately pulled to the random things Hawks had presented to you so happily.

You let out a small gasp as it all clicked. He was a bird. Well, not literally but it seemed he shared more traits with the animal than you had originally guessed. Looking at all the items you knew that he cared for them enough to keep them in his house.

A smile met your lips thinking about how excited he always was as he handed you the shiny thing he had found. It was so sweet that he gave them to you instead of keeping it for his own collection. Had he even been keeping anything for himself since he met you?

Your heart felt full as you closed the drawer and looked for the wine opener. Hawks was already so sweet and somehow this odd quirk of his added on to it.

Returning to the balcony you sat down next to him handing him his glass before pulling him in for a deep kiss. Your free hand tangled in his feathers and you could feel him sigh against your lips.

“What was that for?” He questioned pulling back with pink cheeks and a content smirk.

“Nothing, I just really like you.” You smiled.

“Well, I really like you too.” He said before pulling you in for another kiss.

“So I gave her this shiny rock and she was so happy, I love the way she smiles when I give her stuff.” Hawks gushed about you to Mirko often. The rabbit hero was patient in listening to him but would often roll her eyes at how head over heels he was.

“Wait, so you’re telling me the kind of gifts you’ve been giving her are shiny rocks and marbles?” She questioned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve stolen french fries from tourists to give to her.” Hawks gave her a questioning look.

“I always give her the shiny stuff I find now.” He said.

“And she hasn’t dumped you?” She questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Wow, she must really like like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“A lot of girls like shiny things but they usually prefer bracelets, necklaces, rings, or even cars if you’re really trying to spoiler her. Maybe a designer pair of shoes or a purse.” She said thoughtfully. “Most girls would have left by now if they were given shiny debris from their boyfriend.”

Hawks stood there frozen trying to process what she was saying.

“Trust me, I get it, Hawks. The animal tendencies can be strong but you have to recognize them and adjust. Find a way to fill that urge but in a way that your partner will appreciate more.”

“I didn’t even realize it.” Hawks said in a quiet voice. “Oh no she’s probably hated all the stuff I’ve been giving her and has just been nice to me.” He groaned.

Mirko patted him on the shoulder.

“Happens to the best of us. I nibbled on my first crushes sleeve. There are some things you’ll never forget how embarrassing they were.” She sighed, staring off in her memory.

“That’s rough.” Hawks said. “I’m just glad you told me before she got too weirded out. I really like her, I don’t want to ruin it with her.”

“That’s what friends are for to help you with your blind spots.” She explained. “And Hawks, if she stuck around this long I don’t think you’re scaring her off with shiny marbles.” She teased.

Hawks felt so embarrassed. He had no relationship experience. His childhood had not been a normal one, he didn’t go to middle school or high school. He didn’t go on awkward dates or take someone to prom. It was uncharted territory. He never even intended on dating anyone his life was too complicated then he met you and every excuse he had to date someone was out the window.

He had to make it up to you, he had to explain himself but he was trying to figure out the best way to do that. He recalled you telling him a story about earrings that you had really wanted to buy once at a boutique on vacation but you had ended up not buying them for one reason or another. He had made note of that hoping to look for one similar to what you described but hadn’t gotten around to it.

Now was finally his time, surprisingly it wasn’t that hard to find something that matched your description. He hoped it was close enough for you. Hawks texted you asking if he could come over tonight when you were home and you agreed.

After patrol, he picked up your favorite take out and headed over to your place. He landed on the balcony walking in as you told him he could. You sat on the couch wearing a cute pair of sweatpants and a sweater.

“Hey, babe.” You said standing up and walking over to him, greeting him with a kiss.

“Hey, little bird.” He said returning the kiss.

“Is that what I think it is?” You questioned.

“Your favorite.” He smiled. The two of you sat down at the couch opening up the bag of food and digging in.

“What’s the special occasion?” You asked as you finished up your food.

“I wanted to talk.” He answered, immediately he saw you face drop. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

“Oh.” You sighed in relief.

“Actually I wanted to apologize.” He started, his wings looked tense.

“For what?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The gifts I’ve given you, my friend pointed out that they’re weird and not something you should give your girlfriend.

“Hawks-” You tried to interrupt but he continued.

“I’m sorry, it’s just something I’ve done since I was a kid. I see something shiny and I take it, I’ve had a collection forever and I don’t know I never questioned it until Mirko pointed it out. I just would always get so excited when I saw stuff I kept it. When I started dating you I’d see something and I would think this is so pretty I have to share it with her, I don’t want to keep it to myself-”

“Hawks.” You said taking his hand in yours. “Don’t apologize. Look.”

He watched as you leaned to your coffee table grabbing the small box on it and setting it in between the two of you. Opening it he realized it was full of all the things he had given you.

“I’ll admit I was a little confused at first but even then I saw how happy you were and it was so cute. How could I deny or be upset about you giving me something that made you so happy.” You explained, brushing your hand over the piece of sea glass he gave you. “Eventually I figured it out, I saw the drawer at your place and I put it together. Honestly, the fact that you gave me these means far more than expensive jewelry would mean to me.”

Hawks stared at you in disbelief. How had he ever found someone as amazing as you? He fought the tears that threatened to well up in his eyes. You had understood him without him ever having to explain.

“Actually, I just remembered.” You said standing up and moving to your purse by the door. You looked through it for a moment before finding what you were looking for. Sitting down you held your hand out presenting a shiny vintage key. “I saw this today at a little store I stopped at on my break. I don’t know if it will fit into your collection but-”

Before you could even finish your sentence Hawks had nearly tackled you into a kiss. His arms wrapped around you pulling you close as his wings fluttered. He pulled back looking into your eyes.

“I love you.” The words came out before he could stop them. He already felt so much for you but this had pushed it over the edge.

“Keigo, I-I love you too.” You returned not expecting anything that had just happened.

“I got you a gift, a proper gift this time.” He said reaching into his pocket. “The earrings you talked about, I hope they are close enough to the ones you wanted.”

“Keigo, they’re perfect.” You said pulling him in for another kiss. “Thank you.”

Hawks was more than just a pretty face and you had seen through that. Getting to know him, the real him, not the person the media presented or the child that had been raised into a weapon, was something you had enjoyed. Not only did you get to know the real Hawks but you had fallen deeply in love with him, bird traits, and all.

taglist:  @sugarmaplewings-fics @lilkiwisfinest @ewwis @kandy1410 @moonlightaangel @winnies-headcannons @bakugousidehoe @paintedr0ses1 @toobsessedsstuff @spellboundxizi @ourladyofseijoh  @x0doodlebug0x @katsushimaa @mooncademia

[kdjamlabel]

Tendencies

Pairing: Hawks x GN!Y/N

Summary: Hawks with bird tendencies, but he’s faking it because he thinks you’ll like him more.

Hawks fluff for the soul~

~~~~~~

Everyone assumes because of his animal quirk, Hawks should have animal tendencies. It would make sense since people with animal type quirks often share habits with their animal counterparts. These “bird hero headcanons” stem from the various theories his [rabid] fans have of what the hero is like behind his cocky, charming exterior. Unfortunately for them, the most bird-like qualities he has are his wings, which is why he gets a little confused when some fans ask him to coo when he signs things for them.

Being in a relationship with the bird boy is a whole ‘nother ball game. When you gave him a cracker and some trail mix as a joke, he nibbled at it while making chirping sounds and doing a little happy dance. You thought it was absolutely adorable and started to pull out your phone when he noticed and immediately stopped, desperate to convince you that it had to be a secret because it was too embarrassing for the public to know about.

Opening the door into your shared living space after work one day, you found him sitting on the couch surrounded by an assortment of pillows, blankets, some of his feathers strewn about. When you asked what all this was for, he got up and gently pulled you to come sit in his ��nest” for cuddle time. Needless to say, you two were nice and cozy for the rest of that night.

You don’t know when, but one day he started bringing you things. Shiny things. Rocks, shells, the occasional piece of overpriced jewelry, you name it. You had asked him why he, and he simply answered “Because I thought you would like it!” with the sweetest, most innocent loving smile. You now had a box in the closet labeled “Y/N’s shiny things” written on the side messily in glitter glue. Looking at it every morning before you got dressed never failed to give you the warm and fuzzies.

One night he came home from a mission covered in some weird sludge and you had offered to help him clean up. You had him sit on a stool in your-unreasonably large-bathroom while you ran a warm damp towel through his feathers. He spent the whole time giving little hums of approval as you worked your way through. When you reached the base of them however, he shuddered and gasped, causing his wings to fluff up and push you away. He had his hands covering his face in shame while you were rolling on the floor laughing like crazy. In your fit, you didn’t notice him peeking through his hands, smiling softly down at you.

He had made it his mission to learn how to do your hair. It didn’t matter what type it was, or if he had no previous experience, he was going to do it. You had told him it was fine and he didn’t need to, but he insisted. It was supposed to be payback for how well you had been taking care of his wings. He’s gotten really good at it now, confident enough to let you show up to work in a “Keigo original” with only the smuggest of grins when your coworkers compliment your hair.

It happened one afternoon when the two of you were just chilling and listening to the radio. He started bobbing his head to the music ever so slightly, then started doing it harder as the song got to his favorite part. You carefully and sneakily pulled out your phone to take a small video. You weren't going to show anyone, you just wanted to keep it as a little secret for yourself. He was fully aware of what you were doing, but he let it slide, only because he loves you.

The truth finally came out one day at the beginning of spring. You had been pulling away from him and he couldn’t figure out why. You had cut cuddle time shorter and shorter, only stayed in the house to eat and grab spare clothes, you had even started staying over at a friend’s house instead of with him. He was starting to go cuckoo not having you there. He needed to confront you about your recent behavior, so he made a plan.

When he called you to meet on the roof of the penthouse, you were a bit skeptical of his intentions, but thought to humor him as the guilt of leaving him alone was eating you alive. What you weren’t expecting was to see him standing there, smartly dressed and roses in hand. The nerve ridden man in front of you was a stark contrast from his usual laid back and carefree persona, but a strangely welcome sight all the same.

Before you could speak, he handed you the flowers and basically begged to know what he could have possibly done wrong. You try to calm him as he frantically apologizes for things he hasn’t even done. Finally, you grab him by the shoulders and yell that he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Then why have you been avoiding me?” He asks in such a sad and broken tone that you feel your heart ache.

“Babe,” You sigh, embarrassed that you didn’t think of talking this out with him earlier and had to do it here and now of all places.  “I’ve been avoiding you because it’s spring.”

“What does the weather have to do with anything! You can’t just randomly pull away because winter’s over!” He was still visibly confused by your actions. You couldn’t believe you had to be the one to say it like this.

“It’s SPRING, Keigo! I know it was mean of me to do that without telling you first, and I’m sorry. I’m just not sure if I can handle…” You trail off, not wanting to finish, cringing. 

Hawks was a smart man. The Commission had made sure of that. The moment you hesitated, he finally understood what this was all about. He processed it for a bit, then the chuckling started, which evolved into full-blown hysterics. You were taken aback by the sudden change in demeanor. First, completely frantic, now this? Was this a side effect of-

“I’m not-I-I don’t really act like a bird y’know.” He said, finally calming down and wiping small tears from his eyes. “I’m just a guy with wings, nothing more, nothing less.” He looked at your wide-eyed and open-mouthed expression.

“Wh-bu-I thought you-”

“Acted like a bird because I have a bird quirk? Sorry dove, but no, I don’t.”

“Then why have you-”

“If I’m being honest, the only reason I did was because I thought you would like me more. The fans think that’s who I am and I thought you did too. I know, I know, I shouldn’t have lied about it, but what else was I supposed to do? The thought of ‘“What if they leave you because you aren’t what they thought you were?’” kept creeping in and I just couldn’t tell you the truth. If I had known you would avoid me because of it, I would have said something sooner. I’m sorry” His eyes were downcast as he finished. He really didn’t mean for it to get this out of hand. If he had just told you, then maybe things would be better. Now you probably hated him. You gently grasped his face and brought it up to meet yours.

“Oh featherbrain-” You touched his forehead with your own, caressing his cheeks as you do ”I love you, quirks-yes pun fully intended-or not. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re the same Keigo Takami I fell in love with. It was cute, but I think I can live with just-normal-man-with-wings Hawks.” you say squishing his cheeks and giving him a little peck on his nose.

“I don’t know about that. Some of those things have turned into habits that I’m not sure will break so easily.” he smirks as he snakes his arms around your waist.

“I guess we’ll just have to live with that then. But to be perfectly clear, your not-”

“No, I’m not.”

“Thank god. I wasn’t sure how long I could stand being at (y/f/n)’s house. I think they’re just about ready to kick me out.”

“Then It’s your lucky day. There’s a penthouse lease with your name on it and some very empty bed space just your size. Think you can fix that for me, love?” He arches his brow, teasingly.

“I think I can fix that.”

[solomonish]

things my heart used to know (solomon x reader)

You find yourself stuck in an unusual contraption with Solomon, where the only way out is to take a trip through his memories that he was not prepared to take.

Based on Once Upon a December

Ao3 link: here!

With a spectacular grunt, you rammed your shoulder against a suspicious spot in the wall, hoping that just maybe you could bring the whole wall down or convince someone to help you out or something. Chances of that were low: you and Solomon had been alone when the mysterious magical device activated, trapping you both inside. Trying to shove the more hopeless thoughts of never escaping away, you continued to push at the wall, as if one spot would give and open up to let the two of you out.

Solomon was behind you, leaning casually against the wall with his arms crossed. He looked the picture of calm, a small smile playing with the corners of his mouth as he listened to your struggle. When you looked at him with the intention of giving him a glare, you saw the dim light in the box had turned from white to gold. With a cocked eyebrow, you pushed away from the wall as you felt it morph from stone to something smoother. “What’s…”

“It’s deciding which form to take,” Solomon answered as if that told you anything. Met with silence, he chuckled and pushed himself off of the wall to make his way over to you. “We’re in a memory box.”

“A memory box?” Inadvertently, you stepped closer to him, only stopping when your arm brushed gently across his. The sensation of the walls changing beneath your hands put the horrible thought of your hands getting stuck in a partially-morphed wall, and you wanted to stick next to him in case that really did happen.

Clearly amused, Solomon looked down at you, the teasing smirk on his face making him look much more condescending than he normally did. “Yes. They require a strong magical energy to work, and typically only work once. They’re especially popular with those of us who...have a lot of memories to sift through, but they can be used by anyone. I’m surprised this one lasted so long without being used...” 

As he talked, he walked forward, noting how you stuck close to his side and looked around nervously. The darkness was slowly dissipating and the focused light began to expand into a broader golden glow. The box transformed into a long hallway, the end opening into a room you couldn’t quite see into. Curiously, the walls around you started to shine, taking on their own gilded form. Intricate shapes were carved into the gold, reaching tall like palm trees. In front of each carving stood a gold pedestal, each with some artifact on it that looked to you like they belonged in a museum. 

Finally pulling apart from his side, you ran your fingers over one of the trees. The walls seemed stable, thankfully. “You seem to know a lot about these memory boxes. Have you used one before? Oooh, or did you create them?”

He picked up a small statuette, his gaze darkening for a moment as he stared at it absently. “I...am familiar with how they work.”

He placed the statuette down with a solid clink, drawing your attention from the wall and stopping you from commenting about how utterly unhelpful his response was. Had you said something wrong? His footsteps were faster than before as he made his way down the hall, barely glancing at the walls as if he had seen them before. Well, actually, he probably had. As far as you were aware, you didn’t have an intricate temple in your memories, so this must be coming from him.

Scurrying after him, you followed him through the shadowed doorway and stepped into a room that was just as ornate but not at all connected to the hallway you were just in. While the hall looked like some temple from the first century, the ballroom-like space before you seemed much more recent, if not still at least a hundred years old. You were standing on a high landing, having emerged from an archway several feet taller than you. You weren’t an architect or archaeologist, but you could guess the style of the architecture was different. Maybe...more European? Of some sort? Cringing, you tried to push the image of your humanities professor scowling at you out of your head and slowed your own steps, choosing instead to look at the high ceilings around you.

“I’ve never seen a place like this before…” You murmured in awe. Though the room was dark and clearly abandoned, you still felt a still kind of magic around you, different from what you normally felt around Solomon. He was a few feet to your left, looking at a separate old artifact and standing before a table littered with them. If you squinted, you could see what looked like wings stretched across a long serving dish, the paint chipped and faded. You couldn’t tell if it was an angel or a bird - the pinched expression on Solomon’s face didn’t give you any clues, either. A chill settled in the room, but only you shuddered, suddenly realizing that you were an intruder in these unfamiliar rooms. The thought had you awkwardly kicking at the worn rugs beneath you, the threads dirty and torn yet somehow still looking expensive.

Without a word, Solomon dug around in the bag he was carrying with him, hastily looking for something. You watched him drop it unceremoniously on the ground, bringing up a cloud of dirt around it. In his hand was the notebook he used to teach you different runes, a faint glow coming from the page following the stroke of his pen. The sound of the page being ripped from the binding seemed to fill the room, followed by his steady footsteps as he made his way to the grand staircase. You watched him go, only turning your head so as not to draw his attention.

After he passed, you cautiously sauntered over to the table Solomon was standing at, stooping to pick up the bag he left behind. Slinging the long strap across your chest, you picked up a bear figurine gilded in chipping gold, turning it so that it caught the light. All of the figures before you seemed to be masterful pieces of craftsmanship, regal things to be envied yet somehow seeming personal.  You were almost afraid to touch them for fear of offending the unknown owner.

Your hand fell to your side, bumping a cool metal box on the way and nearly knocking it off the table. Thankfully, you caught it and brought it to your face. Opening up the small lid to reveal another bear, this one standing up as if dancing one half of the tango, you gently turned it around to find the crank. It was old and a bit rusty, but still you turned it gently once, twice, three times until you could feel the springs coiled so tightly they might break. For a moment, you held your breath, then - 

Nothing. No sound came out of the box.

"Hmph. That's a shame," You murmured, tapping the side gently with your finger. Unsurprisingly, that didn't work and you set the box down on the table again. Turning over your shoulder, you called out, "So, what is this pl- ack!"

Just as you turned, a small display of glitter resembling fireworks shot out from Solomon's hand, the shimmering ash eating away at the paper that hovered in midair. Your shout of surprise didn't stir him, his back rigid and still facing you.. The quiet fizzle that caught you off guard became a visible stream of magic curling around him and you before spreading to the far corners of the room. 

You watched as the shadows were pushed into the walls before entirely disappearing, the magic gilding the ballroom and mending the disrepair it had fallen into. Tapestries unfurled to hang on the wall as the vibrancy of the old portraits returned. Overhead, empty arches found themselves holding large, crystalline chandeliers that bathed the room in a welcoming glow. Behind you, the music box started playing, the tune sounding like a full orchestra even if you knew it should only be a dissonant metallic tin. The extravagance caught your breath, nearly distracting you from the way the paintings began to shift and colors bled together.

With another wave of his hand, Solomon drew figures from the painting, hundreds spilling out as if a day had been broken. A few emerged from the floor, entering the ballroom the same way one would step out of a lake and onto the shore. Some of the figures wire masks, hiding their identity with the facade of thespian comedy. Others came as they were, wearing the same face in a variety of expressions. Despite the period clothing and many different hairstyles, the face was eerily familiar.

You watched ghoulish duplicates of Solomon traipse around the floor or mingle, talking to invisible counterparts animatedly. The figures that were not identical were faceless, aside from the occasional partner that seemed to exist in greater detail than any version of Solomon. The figures never stepped a foot on the staircase that was now covered in a rich red carpet - somehow, they were completely unaware of your presence yet seemed to know and respect that you and your Solomon lived in reality. They were citizens of the mindscape, figments of the past, and the barrier between what is and what was should not have been breached.

So caught up in your shock were you that you failed to notice Solomon head down the stairs, as if in a trance, and breach that barrier.

Once you saw him slipping between the ghostly figures, expertly sidestepping them as if he had studied their waltz for years, you called out to him. But he did not answer, too focused on the people milling around him. Maybe your voice was drowned out by the faux chorus around you. With a huff, you gripped the strap across your chest and followed him, walking down the stairs so quickly you almost tripped.

The moment you reached the foot of the stairs, you felt as though you had stepped into a bubble. With a close eye on the figures around you, you picked your way through the crowd with significantly less grace than Solomon. You never lost sight of him in his dark clothes, the dancers only distorting his image as if you were looking through water or a warped mirror as they passed in front of your line of sight. One pair accidentally passed through you, sending a harsh arctic chill down your spine. You watched that Solomon, his hair slightly neater and sporting a ridiculous frilly neck accessory you might have made fun of under different circumstances, pay no mind to you and instead look down at his companion. His expression was mischievous, scheming, but the woman he was dancing with had a face of static, barring you from reading her reaction.

Clutching tighter to the bag strap, you hastened your pace and tried to maneuver through the spirits, occasionally brushing your elbow or hip through the people around you. Each time it sent a different shiver through you, some icy while others were warm and tingled your skin. Surrounded by phantom Solomons only made you more eager to find your place next to the real one again, but the static shock you got from passing through the hurdles made you all the more careful in your steps. Who knew finding your way through a crowd you could walk right through would be harder than finding your way through a collection of solid bodies?

Near the center of the room, you found yourself in an open area with Solomon, your Solomon, standing in the middle. It seemed the translucent versions of himself knew to steer clear of him. You watched, standing just on the edge of where the crowd seemed to circle around him, watching as he took in his surroundings. Then, slowly, Solomon turned to you as if realizing for the first time that you were there.

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing could come out. All your words tangled together, the confusion only growing when Solomon reached a hand out to you, palm up. The gaze he held you in was unfocused, his expression the closest to unkind you had ever seen. Even if there were no right decisions, rejecting his offer to dance seemed like the absolute wrong one. With the same timid air as a schoolgirl at her first dance, you placed your hand in his. For a moment, you felt vulnerable as you untucked your arms from your chest, only to feel at ease once Solomon pulled you in. His hand fell to your waist with a practiced ease. If he had been focused, maybe you would've felt butterflies swarming in your stomach, or maybe you would've laughed nervously. His far away gaze kept the joy down, and instead you pressed your lips in a tight line, watching him closely and allowing him to take the lead.

He fell into step with his doppelgangers, directing you through a path of the specters with the firm hand on your waist. Your time at Diavolo's party helped a little, but back then you hadn't been so worried about your partner. (Well, aside from the time Lucifer asked to dance with you only to threaten you - but then you were more worried about what your partner would do to you and not his emotional wellbeing.) It was all you could do to avoid stumbling over your own feet, barely missing his ties with your heavy steps. 

"Solomon…" You breathed out, noticing how his gaze stuck to the spirits for a moment too long before turning to you. Your questions died in your throat - Are you okay? What's happening? What memory is this? How do we get out of here? - but he could read your expression clear as day, even with his mind preoccupied. 

"These are all memories of me," He explained, leading you into a turn and  arely avoiding one of his copies. "I didn't have a specific memory in mind when we activated the box, so...perhaps it just started to play all of them in one."

"So you've been here before?" You asked, astonished.

"It's...familiar. I've been to lots of places. It's hard to tell."

A pair of dancers blew through you, sending a spark down both of your spines. You turned your head to see a version of Solomon look both ways, checking for onlookers that were nowhere to be found, before tenderly reaching towards the face of the man beside him. Before they could meet, Solomon turned you so his body was between you and the romantic scene, but you were able to catch a glimpse of the man's face. It was completely smooth, like an unchisled head to a statue. 

Solomon didn't make eye contact with you, a faint blush painting his cheeks. You squeezed his hand in the only reassurance you could give. "I don't mean to pry."

There was no answer, and you couldn't blame him. Even if you hadn't meant to peer into his memories, you were witnessing versions of himself he didn't tell you about, versions of himself he might not even remember. You didn't know if he was dancing with you to angle you away from the things he didn't want to see or just to keep you close, but the fact that you were even around to be swept up in the sea of Solomons was too personal for him to dwell on.

With an almost imperceptible tilt of his head, Solomon's attention was grabbed by someone on the other end of the room. His grip on your hand tightened and he tucked you slightly closer to himself, spinning you in order to turn your course. You couldn't keep up with his faster footwork, nearly tumbling to the ground and only saved by his firm grasp. Solomon wasn't paying attention to you, though; his focus was on whoever he was pursuing, his turns tight as he guided you into a small circle around the room. 

The fast turns were making you dizzy, unexpectedly jostling you every time his target moved from his sight. Feebly, you used the hand resting on his shoulder to push him gently away, asking him to stop. The more he spun, the harder you pushed, occasionally asking him to slow down. He wasn't hurting you, but you were hoping that if you could get his attention he might stop. The figures around you were whirling, spinning, disorienting you - was that how dizzy and overwhelmed he felt every day, or just now? 

Without warning, the figures around you stretched an arm out as their partners spun away from them, their fingers barely brushing past each other as they disappeared into thin air. As the remain figures turned to fade into their own memories, Solomon did the same to you. You tried to keep your hands connected, hoping maybe if you kept your fingertips on his he could you bring you back to him bring his thoughts with you. That didn't happen, and you felt your fingertips drag across his palm as you stumbled backwards.

Brushing your hair out of your face, you huffed and looked around. It was just you and Solomon in the room again, the Golden facade having faded back into the dim, abandoned ballroom from before. Solomon was staring at a blank space a few feet from the wall, his face scrunched as if watching the world rip something from him. Perhaps he was; perhaps he was watching one of the few faces he could remember beside his own, maybe one of the ones he loved, fade away from his grasp again.

This wasn't about you - clearly, none of the memories were for you to see - but you felt a creeping loneliness settling around you. Solomon was not only lost in his own world, but in hundreds of his own worlds, where details blurred and recognizable friendly faces were a luxury. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you noticed that the music box was now playing music, the kind you'd expect from such a dainty trinket. Now, the sound seemed hollow and eerie, far from how charming you thought it would be before.

Hesitantly, you took one step towards him as the song dwindled to a stop, but the click of your shoe echoed far too aggressively in the room. The walls were slowly returning to the non-descript box you were in before, but Solomon wasn't moving from his spot. The memories would always be swirling around in his head, you supposed. He had to take his time to bridge the gap between you - even if to you, it seemed insurmountable and ever-growing.

[dandaelions]

"feel my rhythm" album thoughts!

guess who has 2 presentations for work in the next 2 days ripppp but whatev rv is still my no. 1 priority 💗

this got quite long, so under the cut!

feel my rhythm:

okey dokey what is going on HERE

alright first of all, the first 15 or so seconds are just Sublime, lulling you into that gentle flow and causing you to relax - before that beat drops a dirty bomb over the whole thing. why TF is this so clinky clanky???? why???? the bach sampling is so beautiful and if you were to isolate the vocals with it, I think it would actually sound pretty nice but for some reason they overlaid those damn skirr skirr trap beats and bass boosted it into oblivion. I get they were trying to create this classical-hyperpop hybrid but I don't think this came together quite as cleanly as they has hoped. also enough finger snaps in bridges!!!! please sm tell me you have more up your producing sleeve than the 10 free effects that came with the trial software. otherwise I feel like the bridge actually sounds pretty decent? and don't even get me started on that key change in the final stanza oh my god!!!! why!!! key changes always feel like such a cop-out way of adding an extra 30 seconds to a song that already feels too long.

it feels like they were going for psycho v2 (but now on shrooms). which is a shame, I feel if they had maybe pitched the song down a few notches and added in some more subtle beats to actually complement the classical sample, this could've actually been really good. for a song called "feel my rhythm", there doesn't seem to be very much of it at all 😔

also note about the MV: DANGGGGGG it's so beautiful!! part of me wishes it was a bit more darker thematically but all the art references were sooo cleverly incorporated, plus I loveddd all the sets and outfits. ok, so in seulirene's "monster", seulgi corrupts irene and turns her evil. here, I think they are showing seulgi still being evil, except now she can also take the shape of a bird (seen in the epilogue). irene, dressed in black, is still evil from the "monster" MV, and is shown handing a basket of strawberries to a giant...mask-guy?? idk what that is lol 😅 joy is seen holding that mysterious red light in a cage, except it escapes. bird-seulgi gives the light to joy and we see her turn (thanks @littlesunshinedae for making the connection that her wings are actually the evil swooping in for her). yeri gets corrupted through that floating water thing (and leaves her egg to hang out with the birdy-people) and wendy gets corrupted with the rotten strawberry. they're all seen wearing black and sitting in a dark room, with their lighter counterparts in a garden. so now there's two versions of them?? at least that's what I got, anyone else find other things? also are birds supposed to symbolize anything...

rainbow halo: ok, 8-bit stomp n clap that's a vibe...ooohhh okkkkk that's a CRUNCHY bass line, v nice! oh yeah this is sounding slick! oh snap irene ok I see, love how she doubled up on that beat there. woooo love this synthy groove! did they add a freaking saxophone in the chorus omggggg. nice drop-off in the bridge, that's a satisfying build-up to the last stanza. ah ok like the stop-n-start. also pls bring this sax back for other songs, I think that's my fave element of this song! oooh this was so clean from start to finish, this is def going into their "velvet" portfolio!

anyone wishing that this is what they tried mixing into bach for "feel my rhythm"??

beg for me: OK!! OK!! that dirty dirty synth at the beginning 🥴

oh SHIZ that beat drop and then those vocal lines on top? HELLO?? THIS CHORUS???? dance for me work for me beg for me, I'll do it all!!! is that JOY coming in after the first stanza?? 😦 BRING OUT YOUR FREAK GUYYSSSSS IM !!!!!!!! these lyrics PHEW

this is It. nothing else to add.

BAMBOLEO: rv citypop?? is that you?????

retro enthusiasts, rejoice!!!! ofc you can't have a retro song without those boom boom space drums they did their research! oh WHOA that chorus, that modulation is soo interesting!! LOVE LOVE LOVE what they have going on here. oh nice guitar solo! THESE CHROMATIC HARMONIESSSSS OH GEEZZZZ im just blown rn honestly ram these instrumentals ** ** ***** idc anymore.

good, bad, ugly: oh very classy, this is so seg-c. looks like "automatic" had a glo-up! oh they all sound FANTASTIC, love these jazzy vibes, it suits them perfectly! "every day I just love me" DANG RIGHT'S RIGHT LADIES

in my dreams: oh those harmonies!! oh that drop! I was not expecting the bass to come in that strong! the instrumentals definitely convey the highs and lows of unrequited love. ohhhh I'm getting some aespa "lucid dreams" vibes. that symbol crashing during the chorus, like you’re screaming your love to the clouds!! this BRIDGE 👌👌👌 wow what a finish!! so beautiful and bittersweet :')

overall: the title track isn't feeling the rhythm, but the b-sides sure are. WOW I think these are some of the strongest songs they've put out in a while!! I'm so glad they got to showcase their "velvet" side in some of these quieter, more subtle songs. we got some showstoppers!!

[millenniumfae]

Video Game Cooking: Nectar (Hades 2018)

Nectar is one of the in-game items Zagreus can collect. By gifting these bottles of golden liquid to other characters, he raises his affinity with them, which in turn gives him powerup items and advances character questlines. 

Hades (2018) is a retelling/adaptation of the classical Persephone and Hades mythos. All items, settings, and characters are from classic Greek mythology; Zagreus’ foster mother is the primordial goddess of night. Achilles’ personal questline is about reuniting him with his lover Patrocles. Zagreus has spent his entire life sheltered underground in Tartarus, so he doesn’t know what birds are, or what winter is. 

In turn, ‘nectar’ exists in Greek mythology. It’s sometimes interchangeable with ambrosia; both are the legendary foods/drinks of the gods, said to grant immortality to anyone who consumes them, amongst other positive effects. In-game, nectar is the more commonplace counterpart to ambrosia; Zagreus finds nectar as a dungeon drop. But he needs to defeat the champion of Elysium boss to gain a single bottle of ambrosia.

Today, we’re gonna re-create the nectar of Hades (2018) for ourselves! It may be contraband in Hades’ domain, but it’s not like anyone pays attention to that rule, anyways.

Why are we recreating nectar, and not ambrosia? Because there already exists tons of ‘ambrosia’ drink recipes. Maybe not based off of the Hades (2018) version, but there’s nothing new or exciting in making yet another ambrosia drink. Nectar, on the other hand, gives us more room for invention.

Hades (2018) Nectar Recipe  (Makes One Serving)

1 1/3 cups Martinelli's sparkling cider

2 tablespoons orange flower water

1 tablespoon honey

1/4 teaspoon edible gold shimmer powder (make sure it lists all ingredients, and is certified food safe)

A pinch of coarse sea salt

A pinch of lemon zest

A drop of mint extract

The first times Zagreus gifts nectar to npcs, they describe honoring some sort of godhood custom and exchange with him with a ‘keepsake’ - an in-game powerup he can wear. Unlike with gifting ambrosia, their eyes don’t pop out with shock at receiving such a luxurious gift, it’s instead just something nice, even if relatively commonplace. But nectar is still prestigious enough that gifting the actual Olympic gods nectar goes over well.

If ambrosia is the equivalent of Zagreus gifting $30,000,000 Breguet watches to his friends and family, then nectar is the gourmet-wrapped basket of cheese and crackers you see in the ‘gift’ section of the grocery store. Something you spot while on errands, and impulsively buy so you have a hostess gift the next time someone invites you over. It’s a gift borne of societal custom, and implores the giftee to give you something in return, eventually. Everyone from your multimillionaire uncle Poseidon to your humble jailbird neighbor Sisyphus are pleased to receive such a gift, even if they might value its contents differently.

(In the early-access versions of the game, nectar was ambrosia. The final release wrote ambrosia as the coveted, rare prize you earn after defeating the champions of Elysium. True enough, Zagreus can only find ambrosia after defeating the Elysium boss.)

In original Greek mythology, ‘nectar’ and ‘ambrosia’ aren’t two distinct things. Homer describes nectar as the god’s drink, and ambrosia is the food. But in Sappho’s and Anaxandrides’s poems, it’s the opposite. There’s more recorded mentions of ‘ambrosia’, rather than nectar. Some take this to mean that both nectar and ambrosia can be seen as something both food and drink, like honey.

Both share canonical similarities. Ambrosia and nectar are fragrant foods/drinks, sometimes used as literal perfume by the gods. Makes sense that nectar smells good, if in the AD period we’ve taken the word to mean the sweet stuff within flowers.

Other than its smell, we’ve no canonical information about nectar (other than in the Odyssey, nectar is described as either ‘rose-red’ in color, or in scent). Hades (2018) rendered nectar’s appearance as an opaque, warm gold liquid in a cute little round bottle, wrapped with a ribbon to benefit its ‘gift merchandise’ reputation.        

Nobody in Hades (2018) describes the taste/smell of nectar. Ambrosia, on the other hand, is said to be rare ‘vintages’ that you’re guaranteed to like. Sometimes, gifting either results in a cutscene where Zagreus and co. hang out at the lounge, complete with a sound clip of uncorking a bottle and pouring it into a tall glass. You can also see characters drink nectar amongst each other, savoring both the occasion and the taste. Eurydice also offers a ‘Refreshing Nectar’ power up item, which just kinda looks like normal nectar but in a tall glass. 

There’s a clear alcohol equivalence. But nobody references drunkeness in-game. Even original classical Greek culture didn’t have a drunk culture like we do; wine was revered, but it was mixed with water to be savored, not to intoxicate oneself. Maybe nobody in-game can get drunk in the first place; everyone’s either an immortal, or a ghost.

(In my opinion, it’s always a bit weird when videogame characters can nurture deep, trusting relationships purely built upon a system of gifting items. But Hades (2018) does make it clear that Zagreus already has established relationships with most of the cast.)

Ambrosia’s a rare vintage. So what does that make nectar? We need to make something sweet, pleasant, attractive-looking, and also tangibly related to its rarer sibling. So we’re using another liquid that’s distilled and sometimes fermented; apple cider. 

A bit of this decision comes from the soundbite of opening up a nectar in the lounge; it’s a thin viscosity with a slight hint of foam, almost sounding like beer. And the color matters too, since different distillations of apple cider can result in different colors, ranging from dark brown to a light, bright gold.

Apple juice, when fermented, can have alcohol contents going from light apple wine, to brandies that have 10-25% alcohol. As a culinary ingredient, its modest fructose content means a higher temperature tolerance, and its citric acid can be used as a brine. It’s a popular ‘new world’ ingredient in cooking and baking. 

It’s also an ‘old world’ food. Hades (2018) doesn’t take itself super seriously, with its foil-wrapped gyros and french fries as in-game healing items. But any character/worldbuilding they do have, they keep it consistent. 

Zagreus says that Hermes’ symbol “almost looks like a bat wing”, when it’s very clearly a bird wing. Because he’s lived underground his whole life, he doesn’t know what a bird is. Weapons upgraded with the aspect of people like Guan Yu, or King Arthur, are time-bending powers that no one has ever heard of, with hints that these mysterious people live in places with their own gods/mythology. Zagreus catches a trout/bass/sturgeon fish for the first time, and it’s completely foreign to him, but Achilles fondly recalls these Greece-native fish fitting of his Nereid heritage. Characters have discussions about how mortals fear death, despite Thanatos being a gentle god represented by butterflies. There’s no sun, therefore no time, in the underworld. Hades is the god of minerals as well as the underworld, hence gems and diamonds being an in-game loot. 

Apples originated in Central Asia. During the Classical Greek era, they would have resembled what we call crabapples; small, hard, sour, cherry-sized. “At the Sammardenchia-Cueis site near Udine in Northeastern Italy, seeds from some form of apples have been found in material carbon dated to around 4000 BCE.”

It implores me to find ingredients that fit the setting, as with my other Video Game Cooking recipes. No pumpkins, no corn, potatoes, chocolate, tomatoes, vanilla. Instead, we have things like almonds, lentils, oranges, honey, garlic, onions (haha, suck it Achilles)

To reflect nectar’s ‘sweet smelling’ trait, we’re using an ingredient common in Persian cooking - and later the French royal court of King Louis; orange flower water. I found mine in my local Asian grocery. It’s a byproduct of making essential oil, and it’s colorless/flavorless, but with a strong aromatic smell that affects any food you mix it with. It’s also a known ingredient in modern day Greece, called anthonero (αν��όνερο). 

(Eeurydice is confirmed to use both nectar and ambrosia as a cooking ingredient, and her food is apparently amazing. Maybe one day, I’ll make another Video Game Cooking recipe based off of her Pom Porridge, or Ambrosia Delights.) 

And to really make it look like the food of the gods, we’re adding an ingredient found more and more in swanky bars worldwide; edible glitter powder. Originally, people only used this to decorate baked goods and candies, but come Instagram, people are making these really picturesque cocktails that shimmer rainbow. You gotta be careful when buying these for yourself, though; the tiny tins of decorative edible shimmer power you find at Michaels may not actually be as edible as they claim. I found Bakell-brand Luster Dust at a bake-supply shop. If it doesn’t list its ingredients, or certify itself as FDA-approved, then don’t use it for food.

And since it’s called ‘nectar’, we’re also adding honey. Which has long history of its divine status as a holy food. To take down the intense sweetness a bit, the tinest pinch of sea salt - another holy, pure substance. And to really bring out the brightness of the apples, we’re adding a sprinkle of lemon zest. A tiny drop of mint extract brings a complex depth to the orange flower smell.

To make a glass of nectar; cover the bottom of the glass with mint, lemon, sea salt, honey, and orange flower water. Then, pour the apple cider with the gold shimmer dust together, so that the two mix together a bit, to avoid clumping of the powder. Then you mix the drink a bit, so that the honey, zest, and salt aren’t sitting at the bottom.

It only now occurs to me that this recipe might actually be a rendition of Eurydice’s Refreshing Nectar item, rather than pure nectar itself. But just take my word for it; when you open up a bottle of nectar, you get that whiff of blossoms with the slight coldness of mint, and the sea salt/honey taste goes really well with the apple juice. I imagine that Eurydice’s somehow making a further delicious drink by adding a splash of Bailoni and ice. 

Enjoy! Just imagine that you’re hanging out with Zagreus and his three partners, cracking a cold one open over stories about how crazy the surface world is. Did you know that we have machines called computers that instantly relay information all over the world??

[beauregardlionett]

from the clouds - prologue & ch i

AO3 Link

Our story begins—like so many others—in Wildemount. Descending through the cloudy overhang hovering over the Truscan Vale, rising along the Bromkiln Hills towards Mount Mentiri in the Cyrios Mountains. Between these points sat Kamordah. This, however, is not where the story begins. Deeper into the woods of the mountains, travelling north of Kamordah along the edges of the Cyrios Mountains, were numerous streams and rivers. Many of the waterways hidden among the warm mountains bore names long forgotten. Should one be lucky enough, they might encounter the spirit of a waterway and learn their name.

Most were not lucky.

According to legend, the spirits of the rivers were benevolent, but cautious. Too many of them fell by the sword of glory hungry adventurers, or became tamed and twisted to the will of mages. It was rare these days to encounter the water spirits known as Imugi. So rare, the mundane populations nearly forgot the name itself in the present.

But the dragons were not gods, and just because they were forgotten did not mean they ceased to exist. There existed several breeds of dragons—some better known than others. Imugi, however, were not full dragons—they were considered of lower stature and lesser power than their fully dragon counterparts. Imugi required outside intervention to become fully realized dragons—an orb of power known as a yeouiju. That, or to have lived and acquired knowledge over one thousand years of life.

In a twist of sick irony, the god that created the Imugi faded from knowledge and power over time in the material plane, lost to legend and memory. Their power waned as it was wont to do, and the yeouiju sent hurtling from the heavens to the material plane came less and less frequently.

This, however, is still not where the story begins.

It begins in the fringe woods north of Kamordah and due east of Mount Mentiri, on the banks of a tumbling river. Lined with trees whose ancient roots stretched above and below the soil to the water, their branches housing birds and fauna of all sorts. Between the current and the river rocks swam fish and otters, beavers and frogs. Flowers grew a short trot from the banks, and wildlife visited the river for the life it begat.

There, tucked away and hidden among the rocky face of a short overhang, was a hollow. Screened over by trailing moss and lichen, an absent traveller would miss the opening entirely.

This is where the story begins.

-

Beauregard does not remember how she learned her name.

Her creation was a simple thing. The river she called home came into existence a couple hundred years ago. She crawled out from between the river rocks beneath the tumbling current, willed into existence by a god fading from human memory. Her name—her real name—was something she had always known from the moment awareness set in. But the trees and the animals that took up residence on her banks named her Beauregard.

The spirits of the forest that lived around her took care of Beau, taught her their common tongue instead of the warbling, watery language Beau spoke intrinsically. The fish understood when she ate a few of them, and the red-tailed doe that visited the water allowed Beau to play with her fawns. They all encouraged Beau, cheered her on, as she stumbled through comprehending her powers, her abilities, and her frustrating limitations.

Beau could not fly, nor stray too far into the woods from her river without weakening and losing her breath. She learned her lesson the hard way when she was still small and less than twenty years old, carried home by a dryad who had found her gasping and grey less than half a mile from the river. She could not maintain her true Imugi form for too long, lest it sap at her inner reserves of power and magic. And though the river birthed her, though the river was her, Beau’s control over it was abysmally lacking for the first fifty years of her life.

But the spirits all kept encouraging her, pushed Beau to keep practicing. In return, when Beau finally had a handle on it all, she protected them. When the mortals came with axes and gleaming eyes, Beau shifted and roared and scared them away from the trees. The anglers set their nets, and the hunters set their traps, and Beau sabotaged them all. She stalked the banks of her river, eyes mirroring the clear, rushing blue of the water at her feet, and refused to give an inch. This was her river, her friends, and she was the guardian. Nothing would get in her way.

Despite it all, Beau was not content. Her chest began to feel hollow after a hundred years in her river. The monotony of her days, the metaphorical chain at her ankles, tethering her to these banks, was dreary. She longed to fly, to explore the heavens above, and to wield a storm at her fingertips. Beau knew—just knew—that Imugi could do more, be more. The stories and the knowledge all sat inside of her without prompt. Beau needed a yeouiju, needed that orb of power to help her rise above the treetops.

The dryads let Beau climb up their trunks and among their branches. They let her wiggle through the topmost canopy of their crown and witness the wind on her cheeks and dancing through her hair. The thrill in her veins from the dizzying height tasted of flying in the paltriest sense of the word. But it was enough to fuel her determination.

Which was why Beau remained so determined to find a yeouiju of her own, to ascend into higher stature and power. However, she knew the dwindling knowledge of her kind afforded fewer chances to Imugi like her to gain a yeouiju. Lack of knowledge and faith meant the god that created Imugi was fading from power and existence. It took more out of them to create yeouiju now than it had hundreds of years before.

These facts did not daunt Beau’s resolve, though.

Regardless of the tedium, every day she swam the length of her river charge, eyes on the heavens. She would consult schools of fish on their numbers, give them directions, rearrange river rocks, and tend to the flora on the banks of her river. She would protect the dryads, aide the birds with their nests, collect sticks and branches for the otters and beavers, and befriend the visiting fauna. Throughout each daily chore, Beau waited. At night, when the current babbled calmly over her stones and banks, she watched the heavens. The stars would twinkle back at her, each distant flash stoking a false flame of hope in Beau’s chest. Each time her aging heart would leap, thinking this might be her falling orb, her chance at last.

Each morning, the sun greeted her dwindling patience with empty warmth.

“Haven’t you ever heard the term, a watched pot never boils?” Caleb asked her one evening. He ruffled the feathers of one wing as he groomed his beak through his primaries.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you spend too much time eavesdropping on humans?” Beau retorted, voice sharp and bitter. Caleb did not rise to the bait, but he gave her a knowing look before returning to his task.

Caleb was an eagle, and a handsome one at that. His chest dappled white down into a russet color that encompassed his lower torso, legs, and coverts. His secondary and primary feathers dappled white and dark grey, long and prideful. Caleb’s eyes were a point of interest, however; a deep, beady brown shot through with a violet blue. Beau had asked him about his eyes once, and Caleb said they were odd for a bird like him.

He was intelligent and annoying, but an excellent teacher in all things beyond her banks, and Beau loved him like family. Granted, it had taken them until Beau was in her early seventies and a near brush with death to get there, but they got along fine now. Sometimes, when Caleb was in a good mood, he would let Beau assist in his meticulous grooming process.

Beau knew all the spirits who lived on and visited her banks, but there were a select few she kept closer than the rest. Caleb was the only one of that few who did not live on her shores permanently. He came and went with the wind and the weather, bringing Beau stories and trinkets from his travels. She had long ago learned to tamp down on the bitter jealousy with each journey Caleb brought back.

Summers were the worst, when the storms rolled in with warmer weather that made Beau roil in vicious hatred. They were awesome displays of power, and she knew dragons controlled these storms—dragons that had once been Imugi like her. If she focused hard enough, Beau could summon a mild cloud cover, but never more. She could not bring forth rain, let alone thunder and lightning. Her powers barely extended past the banks of her river.

“That looked great,” Caduceus encouraged from the banks of the river, his tone a pleasant drawl. Beau huffed with frustration as her chest heaved with exertion. Water droplets clung to her bare calves where she stood in the river, hair a loose mess as tendrils hung in her eyes and stuck to her sweaty temples.

“Don’t patronize me, Caduceus,” Beau snapped, clenching her fists so hard her blunt nails almost broke the skin of her palms. “That wasn’t any better than last time.”

“Maybe not,” Caduceus agreed as he lifted the lid on his white stone teapot to inspect the state of its contents. “But it’s better than two weeks ago. Progress is progress.”

Beau wanted to yell at him for his constant positivity, his endless faith in her. But she stopped short, knowing he only meant well and was not actively trying to patronize her. Besides, he was right. Two weeks ago, Beau had struggled to maintain the rolling fog she created for two minutes. Now she could hold it for almost ten. But it wasn’t enough. Every attempt she made today in trying to raise the fog higher, to make it into clouds that would rain, had failed. The cover never lifted higher than her knees.

Giving another frustrated huff, Beau kicked at the water, only growing more upset when it parted around her foot and she missed entirely. It was a funny thing, her relationship with the river. She existed as the river, and the river lived in her, but they also existed as two separate entities. When she stepped out of the water, it did not follow. She could ask the water to do things for her, but it did not always listen. Beau tried to explain it once to Caduceus and the other dryads, ended up having an existential crisis, and never brought it up again.

Trudging from the water and up onto the banks, Beau plopped down in the grass beside Caduceus with a mighty exhale. The second her feet left the water, the bone deep exhaustion set in. Every time, it reminded Beau why she shouldn’t push herself and tug at her magic for hours on end—even after all these years.

Caduceus passed her a steaming cup of tea with a knowing look and a gentle pat to her damp kneecap.

“That’s probably enough practicing for one day. Drink up and then maybe we can track down the others for lunch.”

“Yeah,” Beau mumbled around the rim of her teacup as she blew on the steaming liquid. Her face felt tight and flush with disappointment. “Sure.”

The summer days passed in a blur of scorching sunlight and overcast rainstorms. Beau took every opportunity afforded to practice her magic, to draw upon the well inside her until it sat nearly dry. It wasn’t a healthy or wise idea, but Beau had never been known for her wisdom.

On one such day summer day, a storm raging with a rare ferocity above, Beau lay coiled in her hollow, the water dappled scales along her spine shifting restlessly. The stone offered shelter from the wind and rain howling outside the walls. The lichen and moss whipped back and forth with wild abandon in the storm, the shallow water at the front of her hollow disturbed by the movement and the rain. Beau cared for none of it. Bright blue eyes trained on the clouds, she tracked each strike of lightning, shuddered with every crack of thunder. Her mind was far from the thrashing lichen, from the soaked banks of her river, longing to know the thrill of controlling the storm.

There was a flash among the clouds, vivid white and searing purple and achingly bright. Beau’s head popped up, eyes wide and nose twitching as the burn of ozone filled the air. Thunder raged like a mournful cry and rattled Beau’s bones.

Something glowing fell from the darkened clouds.

Heart racing and veins throbbing with adrenaline, Beau shot from her hollow with a speed unknown. Heedless of the surrounding storm, Beau’s eyes locked in on the orb hurtling from the heavens toward her.

This was her chance. This was her yeouiju.

Beau could now fly in the loosest sense of the word—a discovery made a mere month ago that had filled her with joy but now was a frustration. She often made it to just above the treetops and no higher, lingering in the air for a few minutes before she had to return to the water. Without a yeouiju granting her stronger powers, she could not make it higher into the heavens. Despite this, Beau pushed herself now, straining her ability as much as possible, draining her magical well dry. Desperately, Beau pushed herself to climb higher, claws extending toward this glowing orb, this shining future.

The yeouiju hurtled closer, burning and beautiful. Beau’s heart sung in her chest with victory as her claws closed around the object just above the treetops. It was heavier than anticipated, more tangible than she thought an orb of power might be. She didn’t care, though, because this was it.

Beau didn’t care, even as her clawed foot dipped with the weight of the orb, dragging her whole body a foot or two from the sky toward the ground. She was going to fly.

But instead of the thrill of power, the surge of ascension, the weightlessness of true flight, Beau felt a static buzz singing through her veins. It seared through her as though she had grabbed hold of lightning, whiting out her vision for an instant.

She only realized the object in her claws was not an orb at all as the buzz faded away.

Confused and frustrated, unable to stay in the air any longer, Beau wove her way back to the river, magic all but depleted. Depositing her charge on the damp banks of her home, Beau coiled around herself until she stood small and human on the wet sand.

Through the sheets of rain, she glared down at what she thought would be her yeouiju, finding instead the hulking figure of a woman. Her face lay turned away from Beau, her long, thick hair the blinding white of lightning stuck to her skin like a curtain, obscuring her features. The woman’s fitted tunic was a deep black, smoldering in places and crisscrossed with straps of dark leather. But her arms were bare, the skin alabaster in hue, a stark contrast to the black of her tunic and the rest of her outfit. Finally catching Beau’s attention, though, was her right arm. The skin was marred, covered in sporadic, spiraling veins of fresh scars—evidence of lightning damage—but somehow twisted and wrong.

Unable to help her frustrated curiosity, Beau moved around to stand on the other side of the woman, crouching by her head. Without caution, Beau gathered a handful of the sopping hair from the woman’s face and moved it aside. Slack features and more alabaster skin greeted Beau beneath the hair, a solid blue line of a tattoo curving over a strong chin and down a sloping neck. An oozing gash on the woman’s temple bled sluggishly as her breath stuttered from her lungs.

Beau could not pretend to understand what had happened or how this woman fell from the sky. But she sighed, short and sharp, as she knelt beside the woman in the rain. Lightning stretched across the sky so viciously that for a moment, it was bright as day. Beau flinched as the echoing thunder followed a mere second behind and seemed to shake the very ground.

Her hollow sat nearby, and Beau knew despite her frustration, she would not leave the woman in the rain to die. She was not that heartless.

After some clumsy maneuvering, Beau had the woman draped over her back, the bulk of her figure swallowing Beau’s slighter frame. Her knees shook as she walked over the wet, unsteady sand, but she stayed resolutely upright. Ducking through the lichen screen of her hollow, Beau only stumbled twice with the relief of being out of the wind and lashing rain.

Setting the woman down unceremoniously by the shallow water’s edge, Beau cleaned and dressed the head wound as best as she was able to. Uncertain and wary of the lightning scars, Beau settled on covering them with a healing salve and resolved to ask the dryads for help in the morning.

Scooting to the farthest possible corner of her hollow opposite the unconscious woman, Beau pressed her back to the stone. Bitter and angry and upset, Beau pulled her knees to her chest and folded her arms over her legs. She glared over her forearms at the woman until her eyelids betrayed her and Beau slipped into sleep.

[philosophicalparadox]

Dark Headcannons for the Demon Bois, part 2.a : Physiological Adaptations and Defense Mechanisms (physical)

I continue this ideology with more horror HC's (kind of) detailing some of the physiology and physical defenses of our boys - HOWEVER there is quite a bit of science invested in this particular post, so there's a little explaining to do first.

Note: I have removed Iblis from the list for the next few rounds because we really dont know anything about her, and I've also removed Egyn because I have zero idea what kind of adaptations he has since no one's ever seen his body. Azazel is floating in kind of the same boat. We seen his clones, but not him, and we have only really seen two of his kin - from that alone its hard to tell. We haven't even seen Beelzebub except in Gehenna, and for all we know they are stuck there. Im basing all this off hypothetical and mythological sources as well as my knowledge of animal and human anatomy.

Onward!

But first! (Yep, scientific Exposition Time Baby! I promise it won't be long) Something that strikes me odd is that all demons seem to be stronger physically than their non possessed counterparts, and so for the sake of not repeating myself where unessessary, we will assume this is due to increased muscular density, as a default which is the same thing that allows much smaller primates to be much stronger than ourselves.

However, be aware that there are MANY factors that influence physical strength alone - efficiency of respiration, bodily waste management (aka, kidney and liver function) and efficiency of metabolic processes (digestive system, pancreas, and again liver). I'll touch on all these things in their own right, but just to let you know, everything is interconnected.

Onward!

Samael

Is, in everyday scenarios, about 7x stronger than the average human. In times of high adrenaline that can shoot up to 10, due to possessing a unique respiratory system, detailed below.

Samael has a physique designed to be an ambush predator, with a body that puts nothing to waste, but he is also built for bursts of speed and agility, both skills vital for his hunting strategy type, detailed in part one, to be effective. Standing out in a crowd may lull prey into a false sense of security, but it also draws a lot of attention from competitors, as well as parasitic predators like Chuchi and Coltars.

Samael is a demon often depicted with avian wings, and for his body to put out the strength it does and be able to at least glide requires an avian-modeled respiratory system. In other words he breathes with lungs, but has additional air sacs in his chest and abdomen to draw as much oxygen from the air as possible. For a demon optimized for bursts of speed and high agility, being able to metabolize large amounts of oxygen very quickly is vital.

More vital still though is having the kidneys and liver to be able to handle it. I suspect he would have a lobed liver akin to a rabbit, and kidneys much like a cat. Technically speaking, if he eats right, he never actually has to drink any water. His kidneys are that efficient.

Now onto the fun one: bones. High density muscles put out huge forces on the bones they are attached to. There are two ways to fix that: make the bone harder and denser, or make the bone softer and flexible with cartilage. Samael does the former. The most efficient way to have denser bones without adding weight is to make them hollow, at the sacrifice of not having much bone marrow. This works out perfectly though, since to metabolize high rates of oxygen you need specialized red blood cells with lots and lots of hemoglobin, and hollow bones allow for the production of just enough of these cells.

Now that the basics are out of the way, Samael has some other unique adaptations, including a ratcheted tendon system in his forearms, like those found in raptors. This gives him a virtually unbreakable, iron-strong grip from which escape is virtually impossible. Combine that with talon-like claws and long fingers that can really dig in, and you're screwed from the word "go".

Making that escape even more impossible is his highly flexible joints, which make twisting out of his grasp before he has a chance to bite damn near unheard of. Remember, it only takes one bite to kill. If he catches you, you're dead already.

As far as defensive abilities go, Samael hasn't got any besides evasion. So much of his body is devoted to being a specialist that there isnt any room for special physical defenses - in fact his hollow bones, while very good at handling internal stresses, are no less brittle than a birds when it comes to some external forces. A sledgehammer to the side of his thigh (impact) would absolutely shatter his femur bone, though he can land on his feet from a great height (compression) and barely bruise.

Lucifer

Is maybe 5x stronger than the average human, on a really good day. He has a bit of muscle, but he is a magic user, not a berserker. On his bad days he can dip below a 1.

Physically he isn't too different from a human mostly, other than having an ultra efficient heart and lungs that are 20% larger to compensate for his increased muscle density.

Except that he has very strange cells. To all appearance his body is mostly human, but one look under the microscope would tell you instantly that something is odd about this duck, because his cells have tiny crystals in them. These crystals are of unknown composition, but they are thought to assist with fluorescence, or the production of the stuff mentioned below.

Also odd about his cells is that they're filled with an almost cellulose like substance instead of normal cytoplasm. Its a bit denser and is THE most heat resistant organic substance on earth. It also makes his cells completely immune to all forms of radiation - this boy could literally survive a nuclear explosion as long as he was in a shelter where he couldn't be impacted by debris or the shockwave. Heat and radiation from it would be like a sunburn at worst.

However, he is not fireproof. While this substance is resistant to heat, it is not resistant to oxidation, so it WILL burn. Not well, and not fast, but it will burn.

Which leads me to the fact that he has some very unique organelles. Multiple types of mitochondria, Golgi bodies and ribosomes help manufacture the weirdness.

Part of that weirdness is of unknown deadliness though. When fully charged up, the light he emits contains dangerous wavelengths, and further study has yet to be done on whether and what types of radiation he may emit. It is known that his dense cytoplasmic substance can hold onto nuclear radiation, but does so very briefly.

As far as defenses go, he does actually have a pretty interesting, but accidental one, for the dense cytoplasmic substance of his cells naturally permeates into his blood plasma. This substance is extremely bitter and even potentially toxic at high enough doses. A mouthful of Lucifer's blood is enough to induce severe nausea, vomiting, cramping of the intestines (colic), and if swallowed, diarrhoea.

The strange substance of his cells also mediates the use of Elixir that is specific to himself. Elixir used for other purposes are rejects of the ones formulated just for him, and are effective at treating a wide variety of things.

On a related but unrelated note, though, the elixir has nasty side effects on humans and demons alike, often triggering the onset of various cancers and cysts, though it's not clear why this happens to some and not others. It is not known why Lucifer is seemingly immune to these side effects, but he could, potentially, be immune to cancer altogether.

Amaimon

Amaimon is a fucking draft horse, with a baseline strength of 9x that of a human. That's somewhere slightly above a pissed off gorilla and/or an attacking tiger, for reference. In high adrenalized mode, that number shoots up to a 12, which is about as high as biology will let anything go, courtesy square cube law.

His muscles are SO dense and heavy, in fact, that he is incapable of floating in water. He also isn't very fast for long distances. He has high stamina at low energy output, and low stamina at high energy output. He can walk for days on end, but in a dead sprint he can't go more than a kilometer at best before his muscles start to rip him apart.

Which leads to : bones. Amaimon takes a very reptilian approach to the issue of having super powerful muscles, and has fibrin and cartilage reinforced bones that bow rather than break. However, these bones have many sharp angles for muscular attachments, and as a result are very poor at resisting torsion (twisting) and high rates of compression. The last thing he wants to do is land on his feet from a great height, for he is likely to fracture his long bones.

But those are not the only bones he has - much like monitor lizards, including komodo dragons, he has ossicones embedded in his skin, forming a chain-mail mesh of steely bone just below the dermis that makes his skin very resistant to slashes and cuts, but very weak to stabbing and thrusting. Cleaving into him wont do much damage, but impaling him on a pike works great.

His organs are strange, made stranger by his blood, which has a pH value of 7.8, far more alkaline than most viruses or bacteria can survive, making him virtually immune to disease. Unfortunately that also impacts the bacteria in his gut, which as a consequence can exist nowhere else on earth.

On the flip side, his stomach secretes acid that is so caustic it dissolves bone in hours, and also destroys even the worst of pathogens. As touched upon before, he can regurgitate this acid onto attackers in self defense, even going so far as to spit it at them from a distance of two meters. It has a patently unpleasant odor too, adding to its defensive quality.

Amaimons claws are semi retractable and grizzly-like, making them excellent tools for digging and prying things apart. They're also really good at ripping people apart, and there is no armor that can really do effective justice except for one: spiky. His skin isn't super resistant to impalement, remember, so the pricklier the better. That is assuming he cant chip away at it. Good luck with that.

Another organ to mention is his tail. It's not exactly prehensile, but it is flexible and very, very powerful. One whack across the midsection could kill a man. In fact his tail is often his first line of defense against attackers; it's so robust and armored that it's almost impossible to injure, and it hits like a truck. Good for offense or defense, or even just lazing around.

Astaroth

Fungi boy has an average strength of just twice that of a human. But when pushed to his limits, he can use hydraulic musculature to increase his strength to 9x that of the average human.

Speaking of which, Astaroth has some weird musculature- or lack thereof. Rather than having ordinary, dense tissue, he instead has a hydraulic system of movement akin to that of a worm or slug. Not only that, but his muscles are not his own - rather they are controlled by slime molds, with which he has a symbiotic relationship. The muscles are very little muscle tissue and a whole lot of mycellial fibers. His body is literally made of fungus, controlled by fungi and microorganisms, and is fed and defended by these things.

He is, in light of this, able to turn his body temperature on or off in any area he needs to at-will, giving his slimy friends the home they need.

He has a perfect mastery over the simple organisms he controls, and can exchange them at will. This combined with the ability to live without body heat means he is completely immune to all but the most severe of environments. As long as he has access to moisture, he can survive and thrive at sub zero temperatures and well into the triple digits. However he can not live without his slimy friends, and so can not endure drought very well. Deserts are the bane of his existence.

When it comes to defenses, Astaroth is nothing but. Toxic spores, all colours of miasma, foul smells, and even sharp needles and thorns when necessary. Nothing with a lick of sense would dare try to eat him, with the exception of microorganisms and parasites thereof - but it's not him they consume, but his symbiotes, which again he can simply discard or exchange as need be.

He is however very slow moving, typically, and doesn't really have a 'flee' or 'fight' response. Instead he freezes, exuding and oozing his more unfriendly companions to deter attack. If this should fail though, however unlikely, he is remarkably fragile and slow to heal, though virtually impossible to kill.

His only real weakness is well established: fire. It is the great sterilizer, though light is also not something he can easily defend against either. Neither are vacuums and immense air pressure. Basically if it's not within the realms of ordinary natural phenomena he has no ability to escape or defend. This gives him an edge against the younger of the Kings, but makes him powerless against the older half.

Whew! That was a lot. This post took FOREVER to make!

Questions and comments are welcome, reading with a grain of salt in mind is recommended.

[writers-blogck]

The Cat and the Crow ( Tengu!Hinata Shoyo x Bakeneko!Reader )

Warning(s): This is based on the yokai universe for Haikyuu on Tumblr. That was where I got the decision to make Karasuno Tengu. :>

Title: The Cat and the Crow  Pairing: Hinata Shoyo x Reader Fandom: Haikyuu! Word Count: 2,272

        You stretched your limbs, tail curling toward the sunny sky. The rock you were lounging on was just the perfect temperature for a nap. The sun was high in the sky and there was just the right amount of clouds to keep it from getting too hot. It was a perfect day and you were prepared to take a perfect nap. It was rare that you got any time alone so you were going to enjoy it to the max. The promise of a nap without being interrupted. 

        As a Bakeneko, you were lazier than your counterpart, Nekomatas. Unlike your more violent mirror image, your kind didn't eat humans. Sure, you liked to mess with them at times and play pranks but your kind tried to stay as peaceful as possible. In the rare case that a Bakeneko kills a human, they still do not consume them. The Nekomata on the other hand were hunters and humans weren't safe from being on their list of prey. 

        You still were unable to understand why the colony of Nekomata took you in as one of their own. Normally, Nekomata and Bakeneko fight with each other, often due to the human issue. But Kuroo, the leader of the colony, had saved you when you were younger. A group of yokai hunters had killed your mother and were planning on giving you the same fate but multiple pairs of yellow eyes appeared in the dark night. Before you knew what happened, the humans were dead and you were being surrounded by other cat creatures. You wouldn't learn until you were older that you weren't the same type of creature as the pride.  

        The clan tried to feed you some human meat after one of their hunts but it must be engrained in Bakeneko's DNA to dislike the taste as you refused for no apparent reason. It had been a hard and frustrating time but in the end, they just decided to feed you other meat like fish and beef. Fish was your favorite, though birds were good too. You licked the small fangs in your mouth, wondering how long it would be until it was time to eat. That was one of the strict rules of the colony: you only eat when everyone eats. Everyone must be taken care of before you were allowed to eat. The exception to that rule was Kuroo. How many times had you seen him skip a meal because there wasn't enough? Perhaps you should try hunting on your own to help the pride. You weren't fully matured yet, still being called a kitten by the other members. You were the youngest member and you doubt that they will ever call you anything else. You were the baby. 

        A black feather fell from the sky, brushing against your nose which caused you to let out a sneeze. Your eyes opened, looking up at the top of the trees to see where the feather had come from. All you could see were the hint of talons disappearing in the green leaves but that was enough. Perfect, your prey was just being delivered to you. Maybe hunting wasn't as bad as the others made it seem. 

        You were on your feet and up the tree in less than a second, ready to track whatever this creature was. Perhaps it was a big bird like a vulture? You could take something like that on. Instinctively you flexed your claws as you thought about how the pride would be so proud of you if you brought back prey. It was a rare occasion that you were given hunting duty. You would prove that you were just as strong as the other members. 

        Leaping from branch to branch, your keen ears followed the sound of the creature in front of you. It was big, you could tell that without even seeing it. Twigs were breaking and leaves were torn from their stems as it moved forward with the grace of a drunk kappa. This wasn't even a fair fight as you landed on the tips of your feet, hands simply whispering against the bark before you were jumping to the next branch. The creature was panicking. You could smell the fear in the air, though there seemed to be another scent that you couldn't place.         

        With a final push of your legs, you pounced on the creature you were chasing. Two bodies crashed through the tree's canopy before landing hard against the soft grass. The first thing you noticed was that the creature you were on top of was much bigger than you had expected. Shaking your head to focus your vision, what you saw once you opened your eyes again was shocking, to say the least. 

        Your golden eyes the color of daffodils fell upon a mixture of orange and black. Messy orange curls that had leaves sticking from them. Black wings that were stretched awkwardly under its body. You could feel an athletic build under your hands which were pushing against the creature's chest. It....No, he was another yokai like yourself. Your nails pierced the fabric that covered the boy, not pushing hard enough to draw blood. You could hear the blood in your ears as you felt your fur begin to stand on end. 

        "H-Hey!" A squawk escaped his lips, bringing you back into the present. You had never seen someone like this before. Normally other yokai stayed away from your territory. It was at that moment that you began to realize you may have traveled a bit too far away from home. Everything seemed to begin to close in on you: all the different smells you hadn't noticed, the lack of any familiar sounds, the strong sense of being utterly and completely alone. A small whimper slipped past your lips as you scrambled off of the boy, leaving him even more confused than he had been moments before. 

        He would be lying if he said that he didn't think you were attractive. The fur of your ears and tail looked so tempting to touch and he had a passing thought of whether you purr or not if someone pets your hair. His wings puffed out to make him look larger than he actually was as he sat up. His ribs were sore and would most likely be bruised by the morning but there were more important things at hand. A moment ago, he had been pinned down to the ground by a vicious predator and now he was staring at a quivering form that was more like prey than anything else. 

        If it were any of the others in his own colony, you would be dead where you were sitting. Karasuno's Colony of Tengu were fiercely protective of their own and any sign of a threat would be taken seriously. The image of your skin stained a blood red flashed in Hinata's mind and it was at that moment that he knew he couldn't bring you back to the nest. Not only would he get in trouble for bringing someone to their hidden home but there would be a very high chance that he wouldn't even be able to explain the situation before one of the others had sliced your throat with their talons. Harsh, but Hinata just knew they were being protective. He was one of the younger members, just recently learning how to fly. He had been out practicing when you had caught sight of him. 

        "Are you okay?" Hinata slowly extended his hand out to you but halted his movements when he was met with sharp hissing. Your ears were pressed flat against your head and your tail was puffed out in fear. Normally he would be scared of anything threatening him but somehow, he could see how scared you were. Maybe it was because you seemed to be around the same age as him. Maybe it was because you were way too cute for your own good. He had no clue. 

        "Leave me alone!" 

        "Hey, you were the one that tackled me to the ground. It isn't very fair to be getting upset at me when all I was doing was passing by. You shouldn't even be here anyway. Don't you know that this forest is the territory of the Karasuno Clan?" Everyone knew that people who went into that forest didn't come out. The rumors were only proven true by the bodies of Yokai hunters strung up in the trees as harsh warnings to other humans and yokai alike. If you had been slinking around when you entered their territory than you could have missed the hanging corpses, but how could you miss the scent of death? Weren't cats supposed to have a strong sense of smell? What were you anyway? 

        The red-haired boy actively made his feathers go back to normal, sensing no threat at the moment. What would Sugawara do if he were here? Tanaka and Noya would just kill you...Daichi too. Even Suga's brown eyes had held malice toward creatures that accidentally stumbled into the woods. He was very protective of his family and he wasn't going to allow anyone the chance to hurt them. 

        "I...!" You started but closed your mouth when you realized you had nothing good to say. He was right, you were the one that pursued him. If you had been playing around with Kenma or Lev, this would be the part where they would bite at your skin - nipping the exposed flesh gently. Each and every member of the pride just had to remind you that you were the baby. You would always be the member who needed the most protection. You had howled in protest many times before but at this moment, you were starting to think they were right. 

        "I'm not going to hurt you...As long as you don't hurt me. My name is Hinata, I live here." The boy offered you a small smile and you felt your stomach leap in a way it had never done before. It was rare that you interacted with anyone outside of the pack, especially people around your age. Part of you wanted to let your guard down while another side of you knew that would be a terrible idea. How long would it take for the others to realize you were in trouble? They still thought you were just out relaxing somewhere. When would they decide that it was long enough and that you must be in trouble if you weren't home yet? 

        Hinata offered his hand slowly, eyes soft as the freshly laid snow. Seconds passed by as the two of you simply kept staring right into each other's eyes. Was this a trap for you to lower your guard so he could attack? Even if it was, what was your other plan? You were stuck in a foreign territory and had no information on how to get out. You needed to get out before any of the other Tengu members found you. 

        "Please, let me help you. I can lead you out of the forest safely and you can go back to your house. I know this forest like the back of my ow hand. I'll be able to get you out without any fuss. I just need you to trust me for a little bit and then we can go back to being enemies or whatever afterward. I'm sure this is all some type of accident. We all make mistakes, believe me. I can't even count how many mistakes I've made." 

        Your eyes moved from his own to glare at his hand. His nails were a bit long but nothing in comparison to your own. He had his talons to hunt with while your own kind relied on your claws. If this boy did decide to betray you, you doubt you could end up on top. As soon as he got you pinned down with those sharp talons, it would all be over. 

        "Fine..." Slowly you took the boy's hand with your own. It was surprisingly soft in comparison to the ones you were used to. If the two of you were meeting in better circumstances then perhaps you would study the grooves of his hands but now was not the time. For now, you had to keep your attention sharp around this crow-like Tengu. The sooner you were back with your pride, the better. You knew you would have a scolding waiting for you when you told the others what happened but you would prefer that to being alone in new territory. 

        But you weren't alone. You were trailing behind a ginger-haired boy who was holding your hand like a delicate lotus blossom. Was he afraid he was going to hurt you? The pride had told you stories about other yokai but this was nothing like any of them. They had said that yokai were dangerous creatures even to other yokai and would never pass up the chance of killing one another. Yet, in front of your stood a gracious bird who seemed to genuinely want to help. Subconsciously, you tightened your grip on his hand. 

        "Follow me. I promise I'll get you out of here in no time." 

        Hinata was growing to trust you, something you didn't understand. You may want to lower your walls a bit but that was how yokai always got caught. You had to keep your guard up and be ready for anything to happen. Still, it was nice to get to hold a cute boy's hand, if only for a little while.

[saventhhaven]

Musically Inclined

Pairing; Sam Winchester x reader

Tags: implied smut, flustered!reader, flustered!Sam, Supernatural the Musical, confused!Dean

Word Count: 1,720

A/N: Based on S10, E5

(Gif not mine)

The two Winchesters got out of the front seats of the car in unrehearsed and unplanned unison, causing you to roll your eyes. It's like they were trying to be the unrealistic FBI agents from hoaky television shows. By the time you made it out of the car, they were already making their way up to the school. Damn them and their long legs.

"Hey!" you called after them irritably. "Are you guys gonna wait for me, or what?"

"Nah," Dean responded. Had you not been trying to keep up the professional façade, you may or may not have punched him in the arm.

"So," Sam started his signature run-down, "the last place Mrs. Chandler was seen by anyone was in the auditorium. Turns out, she's the drama teacher." Dean let out an exasperated sigh as you walked, his face more than enough for you to be able to tell that he already didn't like where this case was going.

"Theater kids. Great," he mumbled sarcastically.

"I was a theater kid," Sam said defensively. A wide grin broke out across your face, and you looked up at the tall Winchester with glee.

"No shit? I've got to hear this." Sam's lips turned almost nonexistent as he pressed them into a tight line. "No, wait, don't tell me. I can see it now: Sam Winchester himself on a stage under a spotlight, reciting Shakespearian verses in iambic pentameter."

"That ain't too far off from what he does now," Dean said under his breath as he leaned toward you conspiratorially. You snorted loudly, and Sam came to an immediate stop. Had you not been paying attention, you probably would've rammed right into him.

"You done?" he asked. Dean clapped his brother on the shoulder.

"Oh, come on, Sam, give us a line!" He only shook his head in response as the two of you continued to poke fun at him.

"Shut up."

"That's a shame," you piped up. "He would've made a great Hamlet." As the younger Winchester turned away, you thought you caught him fighting a smile. When the three of you entered the auditorium, Dean shook his head with slight disgust.

"Okay, seriously, what could possibly-"

"Idjits!" The three of you turned in surprise. It had been a long time since you had heard that. The only person who ever called the boys that was... Bobby? A teenage girl turned around, dressed in a khaki fisherman's vest, a plaid button-up t-shirt, and a worn baseball hat. She even had on a fake beard to match Bobby's appearance. "You are idjits!" she continued. You turned to the boys with a question on your lips, but before you could say anything-

"Hey, assbutt!" Another girl further away held a fake molotov cocktail with sparkly angel wings, a trenchcoat, and an unmistakable blue tie.

"Do-" You were cut off once again as an urgent piano chorus began to play throughout the auditorium, effectively causing you and the boys to jolt in surprise.

"John and Mary, husband and wife. Bringing home a brand-new life.” Your attention was diverted to the stage, where what you were assuming what was supposed to be Sam and Dean's parents carried in a fake baby, placing it in a crib.

"No way," you breathed as you latched onto Sam's arm for support. You were in total shock as the musical number continued to go on. "Th-that's you!" you stammered, fighting the urge to point. Sam nodded tightly.

"I know," he replied.

"On the road so far. They met a woman on the way-” The teenage actress version of you came onto the stage with an impressive-looking fake shotgun. The weapon recoiled in her hands, and the fake werewolf collapsed to the ground. 

“And that’s me!” You remembered meeting the boys like it was yesterday, but seeing it acted out in front of you with such accuracy was surreal.

“When the boys were toast, she saved the day. Birds of a feather, now they hunt together. Teaming up to save the world.”

"Cut!" Suddenly, the music came to a stop, and a girl with a beret leaped to her feet in the front row.

"What in the h-holy..." Dean breathed.

"There is a case," Sam put in. "Probably has something to do with all this." How he was able to keep such a level head right now, you had no clue. You could barely think straight.

"You think?" Dean sassed. The girl with the beret came rushing up to the three of you with another girl at her side, and all traces of your conversation died.

"Are you guys from the publisher?" she asked excitedly. She didn't even wait to take a breath before continuing. "I'm Marie, the writer/director, this is Maeve, my stage manager, and..." Marie trailed off as you fished through your blazer pocket for your FBI badge. Before you could get it out, though, Sam placed an urgent hand on your arm, causing you to look up at the stage. No way. The three girls playing Sam, Dean, and you were all holding up fake badges to their counterparts.

"I'm Special Agent Smith," Sam introduced somewhat breathlessly. "These are my partners, Special Agent-"

"Jones," you filled in.

"Smith," Dean said. Two Smiths? You would have to remember to thank Dean for overcomplicating things later.

"No relation," Sam was quick to explain. "We're here to look into the appearance-"

"There's no singing in Supernatural!" Dean exclaimed. Biting back a sigh, you and Sam both shot Dean a look. So much for subtlety.

"Well, this is Marie's interpretation," Maeve said with a frown. Dean let out a sound that was a mixture of a strangled laugh and a groan.

"They're entitled to their creative vision," you justified before he could say anything else. "Just because you don't like that they made Supernatural into a musical doesn't mean that you have to-"

"Dean cannot find out about this." The words instantly clicked in your brain, and you totally lost track of what you had been saying. On the stage behind Marie and Maeve, the two actresses playing Sam and yourself were running lines. "He would never let us live it down." Sam's actress took your actress's hand, and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks.

"If Dean finds out, he can deal with it. We're all adults here. Besides, it's not like he's never slept with someone before." The teenage actress version of you shook her head.

"Yeah, Sam, but it's different this time! We're not just talking about sex between two random people. This is you and me that we're talking about here."

"Oh, God," was all you were able to say. That had happened a few years ago when you were still blissfully unaware that Chuck was writing and selling books about your life with the Winchesters. That moment, in particular, was supposed to be private. Sam caught your eye with an expression of horror that was incredibly similar to your own. Holy shit. Dean spluttered for a moment before he was finally able to get comprehensible words out. He looked at you with disbelief.

"You-" Thankfully, you were able to give him a discreet shake of your head before he totally blew your cover. "Y/N and Sam," he corrected himself, "are... together?"

"They're not together," you and Sam chimed in at the same time. The skin between Marie's eyebrows crinkled as she stared at you.

"What are you talking about?" she asked incredulously. "Y/N and Sam have been hooking up since book two. That's canon."

"Oh my God," you repeated miserably. You barely heard a word the boys said as they did the standard case questioning with Marie and Maeve. Meanwhile, you were more focused on how many of your intimate moments with Sam were going to be on stage.

"So, how 'bout you give the two of us a behind-the-scenes tour-" You tuned in just as Sam was gesturing between him and yourself. "-while your director shows my partner Mrs. Chandler's office. Deal?" The two girls nodded wordlessly. "Great. Give us a moment, please."

"Okay," Marie agreed. As the two of them made their way back down to the stage, you continued to stand there in stunned silence.

"I'm gonna throw up," Dean said. You nodded numbly.

"Seconded."

"Yeah, by the way, were you two ever gonna tell me about that?" he asked.

"No."

"Absolutely not." Both your and Sam's words came out in a jumble, and you glanced at the tall man sheepishly.

"Well, you heard the girl!" Dean said, throwing his hands up in the air. "It's 'canon!' So, is it still going on, or what?" You made a face at his question.

"Dean!" Sam scolded. Your entire lives were on display in musical form for the rest of the world to see, and he wanted to know if you were still sleeping with his brother?

"That can't seriously be what you're most concerned about right now," you huffed as you crossed your arms over your chest. Dean's eyes only got wider as he ignored your comment.

"Well?" he pressed on. "Is it?" You and the younger Winchester exchanged another wary glance. He clearly wasn't going to let it go until he got his answer.

"No!" you exclaimed. Dean arched an eyebrow disbelievingly. "I'm serious, Dean. Sam and I haven't hooked up in a long time." The oldest Winchester looked to his brother for verification.

"It's true," Sam confirmed. Dean shook his head somewhat manically.

"I can't believe this. Friggin' musicals," he started to mutter as he shuffled away. "Andrew Floyd Webber crap."

"Andrew Lloyd," Sam corrected. Dean turned around, making a face.

"What?" When you shook your head at him, he rolled his eyes and headed for the stage. When he was finally out of earshot, you let out a breath of relief.

"I think we're in the clear," you whispered. Sam watched his brother, who seemed to be coaching "Cas" on how to throw his molotov cocktail. What a dweeb. The younger Winchester's hand found its way to the small of your back.

"You really think he bought that?" he leaned down to murmur in your ear. You shrugged.

"I don't know," you admitted. "But maybe we should knock it off for a while just to be safe." Sam nodded.

"Agreed."

Thank you so much for reading!

As always, links to my masterlist, taglist, and inbox (requests are open!) are in my bio!

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[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, the-prophet-lemonade!

For @the-prophet-lemonade. So, I honestly panicked when I received the name of my giftee. Lucy, I did my best to put as many tropes as you like here. I hope it's not too crazy or confusing. I've never written space opera before, and it was a big challenge. I hope you like it 🙈

Read On AO3

*****

I’m gonna hold you (like I’m saying goodbye)

“Alexander!”

“On it!” Alec shouted back, sprinting through the busy, narrow alley. They’d been tailing the dragonfly-shaped creature for fifteen space jumps and through three galaxies, and they didn’t have the luxury of time to keep playing tag.

At least, Magnus didn’t have it.

Groaning, Alec saw the moment their target rose its wings and took flight.

Oh no.

That motherfucker wouldn’t.

Activating his runes, Alec jumped to his right and landed briefly on a barrel before launching himself upwards. He sprang from a windowsill on the left to a roof on the right, and pushed himself far enough to grab the creature’s tail and force them both back down.

With the natural grace of a Nephil – a blessed warrior crafted from the Creation’s purest energy – Alec landed graciously on the ground; or, more specifically, over his target’s body. Without wasting a beat, Alec unsheathed his Seraph blade and held it to the other figure’s neck.

“No more games. Where is the egg?” he asked with as much authority as he could muster, a dangerous threat lacing his voice.

The dragonfly-creature groaned, but relented, giving Alec the coordinates for the Dragon egg’s location.

“Alexander,” Magnus called again, finally reaching the Nephil. He stopped to catch his breath, having to sit for a moment. He was exhausted. The amount of power needed to keep his glamour up, hiding his scales, has been very taxing to his body lately.

Turning his head in Magnus’ direction, Alec’s face softened instantaneously. Glancing down to the robotic cat at Magnus’ feet, Alec spoke kindly. “Chairman, can you send a message to Isabelle Lightwood at the 987th octant of Idris galaxy? Tell her to come to the Seelie Planet. I got another illegal dealer.”

Chairman Meow’s face lit up in an affirmative, a rush of numbers and coordinates passing through the screen as the message was sent. Meanwhile, Alec pressed his knee more forcefully against the criminal who was still hissing and cursing him.

“For your cooperation, I’m going to request a lenient sentence for you. But if you are trying to mislead me, I swear I’ll personally throw you into the nearest black hole,” Alec growled, making Magnus snicker. He knew Alec would never do that to another living being, it was too cruel a move for his big-hearted friend; but the criminals didn’t know that, so they always complied.

Well, at least they now knew where to get the seventh Dragon egg.

~*~

The 5 th Draconic Rule – Mates

Gift – Every Dragon has a bonded mate; a soul created exclusively for their care, protection, and devotion. The bond is sacred, and its strength ensures the power and mental stability of a Dragon.

Curse – A Dragon who is without a mate on their thousandth supernoval cycle is fated to meet one of only two ends: complete madness, or death.

~*~

When the first translucent scales appeared, tiny ones near his hip, Magnus knew the clock was ticking. He would have to decide soon, and although he already knew which option it was going to be, it didn’t make taking the final leap less daunting.

His father was one of the most powerful dragons to ever exist, coming from royal lineage and with an entire planet under his claws. But his power came with a price - always a price - and his reign was tainted with blood and death.

Magnus refused to be part of it, to continue a kingdom built on pain and tears. His refusal also came with a price - when he was finally able to break free from Asmodeus, his father used one last trick.

He cursed Magnus' soul to never recognize his counterpart. Without the guide for his fated bond, he would never find his rider.

Asmodeus condemned Magnus to a lonely life with a sad end.

~*~

While waiting for the magnetic storm that would enable the space jump they needed to get to their next location, Magnus and Alec decided to venture through the heavily decorated town, full of warm lights and oddly curved, red-and-white striped decorations. The townspeople were apparently celebrating some kind of deity which was dear to their small planet, so the festivities were expected to go on for two whole weeks. A lot of visitors from other planets made the crowded streets busier than ever, the local merchants thriving as they sold their domestic goods and traditional food.

Holding each other’s hand to not get lost within the busy streets – though both knew better than to believe in that weak excuse – Magnus and Alec enjoyed the proximity and warmth of their interlaced fingers.

They had lost so much time, avoiding any attempt at something besides friendship due to their fear of an expected separation. After all, if Magnus did miraculously find his mate, their time together would end, and it would be too painful to accept that reality. All right, maybe the bond could be platonic – it had happened in other cases. But what if it wasn’t? By now, Alec knew about Magnus’ feelings for him; but what if the bond was stronger? What if Magnus fell in love at first sight with his rider?

Of course Alec would let him go, but it would hurt so much. And Magnus also knew what Alec felt, and would never want to inflict that kind of pain on him.

Their separation had maybe always been inevitable - but if they were going to save Magnus’ life, it would have to be soon, too. So, as a small mercy to themselves, they’d finally agreed to make the most of the time they still had together before…

Before whatever ending waited for them – Magnus’ salvation, or his death.

They wouldn’t put a name or label on their brief, joyful time together.

They would just be them.

Just Magnus and Alec.

They tried to have some fun, at least - and this festival was no exception. They played some of the games and won a few good prizes – which they didn’t mind giving to some of the children who looked at them with pleading eyes. They ate and drank and laughed. It was good. It didn’t feel like a big disaster was just waiting to fall on their heads at any time.

When night started to set and thousands of moonlight orbs floated in the growing light to illuminate the festival, Alec pulled Magnus aside to put something on his hand. It was a small, rectangular charm, made of red silk and golden thread.

“What is this?” There were awe and wonder in Magnus’ eyes, making them sparkle even more.

He is so beautiful. Alec smiled bashfully.

“It’s called an omamori. They are sacred to the feathered race, and I’ve heard that only those from the Phoenix constellation can make this. Each color and each thread are carefully chosen as they have different meanings, and ultimately the charm is bathed in blessed ashes mixed with powdered moonstone to strengthen its power.”

Magnus nodded slowly, taking in every detail and tracing the omamori with reverent fingers.

“What does this one mean?”

While Magnus was distracted by some silk scarves, Alec was drawn to the mystic power of a stall full of charms, which were being sold by a humanoid, copper-feathered bird wearing more jewels and chains than clothes.

The kind vendor explained the basics of omamori magic to Alec, and he felt more compelled than ever to buy one. He was torn between two – a blue and silver one, and a red and golden one, but when the vendor told him the blue and silver omamori was for success and longevity, oh… Alec felt a pang in his heart.

It would be clinging to something that would almost certainly never happen.

But the other option…

“Luck and protection.” Because if things went well? It would be by sheer luck. And protection… “Because I swore to always protect you, and I meant it - this way, if something happens and I’m not there, you’ll still be guarded.”

“Oh…” Magnus breathed softly, a small and genuine smile lighting up his face. He touched the omamori gently to his lips, his draconic eyes shining. “Thank you, Alexander.”

The soldier ducked his head and smiled, before nodding towards the food court.

“What do you say to some sweets from the Orion constellation?” They were some of Magnus’ favorites, he knew.

Magnus grinned. “You really know the way to a dragon’s heart,” he declared with a wink.

That Alec already lived in one was left unsaid.

~*~

The 9 th Draconic Rule – Scales

Gift – Every Dragon is born with silver scales, representing their purity of soul and a whole canvas of possibilities. They sing in gold when the ritual of mating is complete, and will then shift into a new color, signifying the Dragon’s new identity.

Curse – Bondless Dragons will surrender to red or black scales. Red scales for an eternal feral state and solitude. Black scales for the grief of death.

~*~

“Approaching the Dragon Sanctuary.” Alec announced through his communicator, unable to contain the excitement in his voice.

“Again?” Jace teased through the same communicator. “I don’t know why you still bother to come back to Idris at all. It’s clear you have a new home now.” Alec didn’t dignify his brother with an answer, mostly because that would mean admitting he was half-right.

Because no, Alec didn’t see Alicante as home anymore, even though he’d grown up there. But home wasn’t the Dragon Sanctuary either.

Home was a breathing thing. A person.

Or, in better terms, home was a dragon.

Alec first met Magnus when he was only sixteen. It was an odd situation, but somehow they saved each other while fighting against a group of mercenary hunters. After that, Magnus accompanied Alec for some time to make sure he would get back home without any more problems.

From there, they never stopped seeing each other. Ten years later and their visits had continued all the while. It was hard sometimes, since they lived in different galaxies; but Alec was one of the best warriors and pilots from Idris galaxy, and it wasn’t a problem for him to escape sometimes to go and see the one who made his heart beat a little faster and his mind spin.

Turning off the communicator once more, Alec finished the landing procedures, and stepped out of the craft onto the grass surrounding Magnus’ nest.

When he felt something quickly curl around his body, he didn’t even flinch. He would recognize that warmth and sandalwood scent anywhere.

“Hey,” Alec grinned, petting the dragon’s head as it kept nuzzling his cheek. Magnus’ true form was much, much bigger than this one, but he liked to say that this was the perfect size to cuddle Alec.

“Hello, pretty boy.” Magnus’ voice in his draconic form was a bit deeper, but still soft, with a musical lilt. “Missed my eyes?” As if to make his point, he lifted his head and golden, slitted eyes bored into Alec’s hazel ones, until a flirtatious wink broke the spell.

“Actually, I missed all of you, not only the eyes.” Alec answered bluntly as always, making Magnus pause in surprise and then burst out in delighted laughter.

A second later, Magnus shifted back into his human form, magic already wrapping him in clothes. Still, he didn’t let go of Alec and hugged the Nephil for a little longer.

Magnus wasn’t one to hug much – that was more Alec’s department – so when the dragon lingered longer and actually tightened the embrace a bit desperately, Alec knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” Alec pulled gently away so that he could turn and look at Magnus, and his smile faltered when he saw the dragon’s crestfallen face.

Instead of replying, Magnus just pulled back part of his cloak, showing his collarbones. And showing the translucent scales that glinted on his skin.

Translucent scales, on his human form.

Alec felt his face drain of color, and he grabbed urgently at Magnus’ shoulders. “When?”

“Last week,” Magnus mumbled. “This is why I asked you to come a little earlier. You… you know what this means.”

“Magnus…” Alec felt his heart ready to combust from sheer panic. “Your choice… What choice have you made?”

Magnus flinched at that, and right then Alec had his answer. He closed his eyes, willing the tears to not come.

Of course. Of course Magnus would want that.

Without his soulmate, spending the rest of his eternal life as a barely-sentient, feral creature would be Magnus’ worst nightmare.

Of course he would choose death.

But Alec had barely opened his mouth to protest when two other dragons landed beside them.

“Cat, Ragnor, good of you to join the party.” Magnus smiled, putting on that happy façade which Alec absolutely hated to see on his friend’s face.

Catarina and Ragnor were Magnus’ best friends, and together they formed a trio of unshakable loyalty and care. However, unlike Magnus, those two already had riders with platonic bonds. Ragnor, whose scales were the beautiful green of a forest touched by the first rays of light after dawn and whose horns had a curvature bigger than his head, was bonded to a priest called Raphael. And Cat, whose scales were the fresh blue of the clearest ocean, was bonded to a little girl called Madzie who was still learning how to be a rider.

As for Magnus…

Alec thought about Magnus’ silver scales. Usually they were a dragon’s version of ‘plain’, but Magnus was always adorning them with jewelry, until he not only shined but sparkled like a gemstone in the sun. But still, all the decoration in the world didn’t change the message a silver scale sent.

Magnus was bondless.

He was alone.

He had no one to care for him, to love him.

Alec sighed inwardly. What an ugly lie. If he could…

But that thought was quickly interrupted by Cat dropping yet another bombshell.

“We found a solution,” she began, speaking as soon as she shifted back into her human form. “It was hard, but the Elders finally yielded. Have you ever heard of the Journey of Eight?”

“Isn’t that a myth?” Magnus frowned.

“All myths are real, dumbass.” Ragnor grumbled, also shifting. Then, he turned to Alec, who presumably looked very lost. “Dragon eggs are rare and very precious for us,” he explained, “but they also emanate a lot of power, which unfortunately serves to draw untowards attention.”

Alec nodded, already aware of that fact. Dragon eggs were on the top of mercenary hunters’ list to acquire. A small piece was worth a fortune capable of sustaining a family for three generations.

“When a Dragon is born, no matter where it is in the Universe, it’s imperative that the remnants of the egg should be destroyed, or else anyone could get their hands on it.” Cat continued. “But there are rumors of Dragons who didn’t have the chance to do that, so some of their egg remains.”

“There is even one in a fucking museum,” Ragnor grumbled.

Catarina grimaced. “Yes, there is. But our point is - Magnus, if you collect one piece of eight different eggs, their power would be enough to fuel a ritual that will point in the direction of your rider, no matter how far away they are.”

“What?” Magnus spluttered, and Alec felt the same, torn between shock and hope.

Magnus could be saved.

“Do you know the coordinates for those pieces? I can go take them right now!” Alec stood at attention, a soldier more than eager to take orders and act.

“Alexander!” Now Magnus was the shocked one. “My thousandth cycle is in a month's time. It’s impossible to search through millions of galaxies in that time.”

“But we have to at least try,” Alec insisted. “Listen, my ship is fast. I’m a good pilot. If I have the coordinates? I don’t care if I have to make five hundred jumps, or five thousand jumps, Magnus. I won’t miss this opportunity to help you.”

Magnus’ Adam’s apple bobbed painfully as he swallowed. That sweet, sweet man.

Biting his lower lip, Magnus nodded, a fierce expression crossing his face.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Magnus, I can handle–”

“No, this is non-negotiable. The Dragon eggs are for me, so I decide that. Besides…” Bringing a hand to his lips, Magnus whistled loudly.

Seconds later, his robotic cat – Chairman Meow – came running from Magnus’ nest. As cute and small Chairman looked, Alec knew better.

That robot knew one hundred ways to kill and hide the body without anyone knowing.

“Chairman only goes where I go.” Magnus grinned. “And my intuition tells me he will be a very useful addition to our team.”

~*~

The snow drifted slowly, dancing and tumbling in the air like fireflies. It was beautiful, especially when the scarce light caught it and reflected a fleeting, pocket-sized aurora. However, as pretty as it might be, it was also a sign of the steely and dangerous cold. The situation of sharing a single bed seemed less ‘odd’ and more like an obviously excellent idea, the two of them bundling up under the same blanket to keep themselves warm.

Alec didn’t mind, especially since he would do anything to stop Magnus’ shivering body from shutting down. The fire in the hearth wasn’t enough anymore, hadn’t been for hours. Chairman Meow had already needed to activate one of his survival mode settings, too, turning into a small space heater to keep the chill at bay.

Magnus was running out of time.

Not only his body was starting to freeze from inside out, his blood running sluggishly, but more scales were blooming and darkening. They’d already advanced over his neck and reached his chin, and by now they were half-covering his forearms and thighs, too.

They were killing him.

Alec let out a shuddering breath and held Magnus more tightly against his own body, earning a weak, content sigh from the dragon. Looking out of the window, past the snow and lights, Alec sent up a prayer - or just a desperate plea - to the stars hidden up above, or whatever power lurked behind them.

Please, don’t take him away from me. Give us more time. Please, please.

~*~

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The last Dragon egg was said to be inside a cave that only other dragons could locate, and Magnus found it easily - but they hadn't expected to also find mercenary hunters. It was unbelievable that even after Valentine’s demise, his goons were still out there causing havoc, enacting his toxic and distorted vision.

Fucking dammit.

Nothing was easy, huh?

When they’d retrieved the first few egg fragments, fights hadn’t been a problem - Alec and Magnus worked well as partners in battle. But now, with Magnus growing ever weaker, the only way they stood half a chance was if Chairman Meow was also actively helping them fight.

Which meant it was a good thing the cat was programmed to spit fire. Bless Magnus for having insisted on bringing him with them - a portable flamethrower was exactly what they needed, especially after Alec’s second Seraph blade fell into the river of lava below.

After all, going for a swim to retrieve it was hardly an option.

Magnus finally reached the eggshell fragment - the last piece they needed, hidden in a glamoured nest. Alec was still finishing off the last hunters, struggling without Magnus’ help and his increasing fatigue. By now, he’d lost not only both blades, but also his bow - he was using his arrows as last-resort weapons, now. Eventually, though, one of them struck home in the eye of the last hunter standing, and Alec slumped, catching his breath.

It was too soon.

One of the hunters who was already down – an elemental demon, who despite his half-burned body suddenly seemed to find a last burst of energy - struck out, launching a ball of raw elemental power at Alec.

Alec barely had time to blink before Magnus pushed him out of the way and took the brunt of it.

“NO!” Alec screamed, crashing to his knees. “You fucking stupid, fucking idiot…” He crawled over to Magnus and cradled his limp form, anguish threatening to swallow him whole even as he brought the dragon as close as possible.

“Not… charming, darling…” Magnus coughed, blinking sluggishly.

“Don’t care. How many times have we talked about your dumb self-sacrificing tendencies? You are not a fucking living shield!”

“You’re one to talk. Also, you are saying the word ‘fucking’ far too much, Alexander. Is there some kind of urge you’re trying to hint at right now?” Magnus gave a wobbly smile, as well as a bleary, poor attempt at a wink.

“Stop flirting,” Alec chastised, a lopsided grin slowly blooming on his own lips despite his rising fear.

Magnus hummed in acknowledgment, but no other quip came forth. Instead, his eyes closed and didn’t open again.

“Magnus?” Nothing. “Magnus, hey-” He shook the dragon a little bit, Magnus staying unresponsive - but the change in position illuminated black scales, new ones, growing on his face.

They were out of time.

Resisting the urge to break down right there, Alec lifted Magnus up and strode towards his ship.

They had to go back to the Dragon Sanctuary now.

~*~

Alec could count on only one hand how many times he left his ship to navigate by autopilot. It’s not that the AI wasn’t efficient; Alicante’s technology was undeniably some of the best in the known Universe. Most of his people still believed it to be their divine right, as they were the chosen ones from the Creation itself.

There was a time Alec also believed in that natural, just superiority. Until...

A weak tremor caught his attention and he looked back down at the man still cradled in his arms. Magnus’ human form was fading. His breathing was ragged and his pulse was weak.

“Fuck,” Alec cursed, his eyes blowing wide in panic. “Church, go faster!”

“We are already at maximum speed, sir.”

Alec cursed again. He needed to pilot the ship manually, so he could break past the damn protocols and force the system to crash its primary settings. Without the restraints implanted by the Clave, he could burn up all of the stamina core in minutes and increase their speed tenfold.

He’d be in big trouble for it, of course, but he didn’t care. Magnus was his priority.

He had been for a long time.

AIs weren’t made to enter a gravitational field by themselves, the unpredictable shifts in G making the systems unstable to the point of shutdown. Always, always turning off the autopilot and navigating manually through gravitational fields was one of the first things Alec had learned at Alicante Academy.

But right now, he either piloted or held Magnus. He couldn’t do both, and maybe they needed the speed, but putting Magnus down away from his warmth and posture support was out of the question.

So, Alec made his choice.

And he could only pray it was the right one.

ATTENTION

ATTENTION

SAFETY PROTOCOL MALFUNCTION

CRASH LANDING IMMINENT

“Chairman, secure us!” Alec yelled amidst the blaring alarms, and the robot promptly leaped into action. Elongating his tail, he fastened it around Alec and Magnus, pinning them on the makeshift bed. His claws also grew and penetrated the metal floor, firmly holding onto it.

Alec closed his eyes and waited, hoping for the best. And if the worst happened instead?

Well, Magnus was already dying.

At least he wouldn’t die alone.

ATTENTION

ATTENTION

TRAJECTORY UNSAFE

CRASH LANDING IMMI-

~*~

The 6 th Draconic Rule – Bonds

Gift – The bonds have two different natures; they can be either platonic or romantic. The platonic bond is more common, but the romantic bond is more powerful. Combined with partnership, the soul bond allows for total connection and shared strength.

Curse – A rider can reject a bond if they do not desire to be by their Dragon’s side. The pain of rejection is visceral. Death is considered a far kinder fate.

~*~

“…wood. Lightwood! Bloody hell, boy! Where did you learn to pilot? Your ship is a goddamned wreck-”

“Ragnor, if you aren’t going to help, do be quiet. Concussions don’t heal themselves, I have work to do.”

“Just wake him, for fuck’s sake! Concussion or not, he’s the only one here who can take Magnus to the fountain, and if he doesn’t damn well hurry up-”

Alec’s eyes snapped open, his body jackknifing upwards. Instinct kicked in before recognition, his frantic heart threatening to escape from his chest, and he reached for Magnus – who was still unconscious and laying beside him.

With trembling fingers, he pressed down on the pulse point at Magnus’.

It was so faint…

“Alec, we’re nearly out of time.” His attention finally snapped upwards to the two other dragons present, his brain kicking back into gear with a spike of hope. If Catarina and Ragnor were there, that meant they did it, they reached the Dragon Sanctuary. “Did you get all eight pieces?”

Alec nodded, grabbing at the small satchel attached to the cord on his neck.

“Perfect. We have to go.” Cat opened a portal and stepped through it without missing a beat. Ragnor followed, looking back at Alec one last time with a worried glare that quite clearly meant hurry the fuck up.

Alec didn’t need to be told twice. He lifted Magnus into his arms once more, and the two of them disappeared through the portal.

On the other side, Alec stepped out into the most majestic scenery he’d ever seen. They were inside some kind of cavern, what looked like the base of a mountain with how high it was, the ceiling barely visible. The walls and whole swathes of the floor were covered with stalagmites so clear, they seemed made of pure crystal.

A moment later, the torches around them flared to life, and produced a whole spectrum of colors and magic and sound.

Alec didn’t know how that was possible, but it was like the stones were humming some kind of melody.

In the center of everything, there was a fountain – the water so crystal blue, it was easy to see the sigils and marks on the bottom of it. Around it, exactly eight bowls – equally distanced from each other – with eight black candles already alight, burning gold as Cat or Ragnor threw a piece of dragon egg into each flame.

When the last piece was burned, the entire fountain began to shine.

“Put him in the water, now!” Ragnor practically roared, but Alec was already in motion, leaping straight into the center of the water; Magnus floated freely, but Alec couldn’t step away, opened his mouth to ask if the ritual would work with him there and-

The water pulsed.

No, wait - it was Magnus’ body pulsing, his soul looking for its counterpart.

Three beats later, everything stilled.

Alec waited with bated breath, expecting at any moment to see some kind of magical arrow appear, pointing to where Magnus’ soulmate was.

But absolutely nothing happened.

Alec’s heart plummeted. They were too late, they- “No, no, no,” he mumbled, his hands twitching at his sides. “Why didn't it work? He needs his rider. Why–”

“Alec,” Cat interrupted him, but not unkindly. “Look down.”

Blinking hard, he did exactly that.

There was a gold thread coming out from Magnus’ chest and connecting to…

Oh.

Connecting to his own chest.

It was him? He was Magnus’ rider?

Another pulse, and something – something ancient and powerful – whispered in his ear.

And suddenly, Alec knew exactly what to do.

Lowering himself further into the water and bringing Magnus into his arms once more, he kissed his dragon’s forehead, and then began to chant in a strong, quiet voice.

“Thee and me ever entwin'd

Dragon of mine, heart of blissful shine

I bond myself to thee, now and forever

Dragon of mine, mine own eternal shrine”

A pulse.

The water shone silver.

Another pulse.

And like molten obsidian, Magnus’ scales turned from black to gold.

Another pulse, and another, and another and another-

The cave was coming alive like a dormant heart, beating against long-worn stillness. And then it breathed - and Magnus transformed, his bones shifting under blinding light, stretching into a dragon form that was so big, he ended up occupying almost the entire fountain.

When the light dissipated, his scales weren’t gold anymore.

Nor – thankfully – black.

They were a mesmerizing azure blue.

Alec bit back a cry of joy, and relief, and excitement. Magnus was saved.

Magnus was going to be alright.

“My rider,” Magnus rumbled, lowering his head – so big, just his eye was bigger than Alec’s head – and nuzzled against Alec’s chest. “My darling Alexander. It has always been you.”

“Yeah…” Alec closed his eyes, feeling all the tension leave him at once, and letting himself snuggle against Magnus. Suddenly, a chuckle slipped free. “I can’t believe that damn curse prevented us from seeing the obvious.”

“I can’t believe it worked; I was almost certain that the eggs wouldn’t help,” Magnus hummed. “Even if they pointed to the direction where my rider was supposed to be, there was still the possibility of them being too far away for me to get there in time. Or they could have been dead. Or… or they could have rejected me.”

Now that they were bonded, Alec could feel the fear bleeding from Magnus’ words, and it made his own heart ache. “So why did you want to go through all that trouble just to get them?” he asked, frowning.

“To be with you,” the dragon replied simply. “If I was going to die, I wanted to spend my last moments with the person who made me the happiest.”

“Magnus…” Alec felt a lump rise to his throat, and held his dragon a little tighter. Just thinking about Magnus’ demise was enough to make him shiver. He hoped to never feel that fear again.

“Oddly enough, Magnus is right,” Catarina suddenly said, drawing their attention. “The eggs didn’t help at all, really.” She grinned at their clear confusion. “I’m sorry for the deception, but it was the only way. The truth is, it was never about the eggs. It was about the journey - your journey.” Her smile softened. “You two already had a natural bond in place, but Asmodeus’ curse was messing with the nature of it. You fell in love without knowing you were soulmates.”

Alec blushed. Love… Even if they had never put a label on what they were, on what they felt for the other…

Love felt very right.

“That’s also why Magnus didn’t fade so fast,” Ragnor added. “Had he spent that length of time alone, he never would have stood a chance. He could only hold on because you were always together.”

At that moment, Magnus returned to his human form, and for the first time in months, he looked healthy. Alec was so relieved, he felt like crying.

Naturally, Magnus immediately broke the moment. “Now you don’t have an excuse not to ride me, Alexander,” he declared with a smirk.

Alec snorted, but the sound was too close to a sob. He thought he was going to lose that, too. Magnus’ terrible jokes and shameless flirtations. Unable to stand even a tiny distance any longer, he practically threw himself at Magnus, hugging him firmly and burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“I promise to always protect you,” he said fiercely. “Nothing bad will happen to you again. I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

“This sounds awfully like a wedding vow, darling,” Magnus teased - but there was a note of insecurity in his voice, too.

“I mean, we can get married, can’t we?” Still holding his soulmate, Alec turned to Cat and Ragnor, as if looking for their blessing. After getting a nod and appreciative smiles from both, Alec turned back to Magnus and held his face with the utmost care and affection.

Then, he leaned in and finally, finally kissed Magnus.

Magnus kissed back with equal fervor, yearning for the sweet contact he’d craved for so long. They only pulled apart to finally say what could no longer be contained - the only words that really mattered, the ones they needed to pronounce and hear more than they needed air to breathe.

“I love you.”

I love you, I love you, I love you.

[danciingflame]

credit (x)

&. BASICS

Full Name: Evelyn Ines Barbosa Phoenix

Nicknames: Phoenix, Phoebe, Ballerina

Age: 96 years old

Sexuality: bisexual

Date of Birth: August 9th 1924

Place of Birth: Lisbon, Portugal

Gender & Species: cis woman & (fire) sprite

Current Location: Ardora, Concordia

&. MORE BASIC INFO

Languages: Portuguese, French, English

Religion: atheist

Education: Graduated from Lisbon’s dance and acting university

Occupation: Principal Dancer/Prima Ballerina of Lisbon

Drinks, Smokes, & Drugs: she began drinking and using Concordia-native drugs after becoming a sprite, otherwise it would have been too damaging to her human body.

&. PERSONALITY

Zodiac Sign: Leo -- The Leo woman is a regal Lioness, queenly in every way. From her royal bearing to her personal style (which tends to be extremely expressive and bold), the Leo woman is strong and comfortable in owning her power, like her planetary ruler, the Sun. Though slightly sweeter-natured and usually a little less over the top than her male counterpart, a lady Leo can still be counted on to take no bull – if you try her, you may live to regret it. It’s best to avoid inciting that Leonine temper if you don’t want to see claws. Should you attempt to mess with her way of being or quality of life (especially anything related to survival: her family, home, or income), she will take you down – hard. Lady Leos are vivacious, full-of-life personalities, and their enthusiasm and ebullience can be completely infectious. They want you to do something wild and fun with them, so being a bump on a log or a stick in the mud will simply not fly for these big cats, who take deep delight in feeling their freedom and exerting their autonomy. 

MBTI: ESFP -- ESFPs are vivacious entertainers who charm and engage those around them. They are spontaneous, energetic, and fun-loving, and take pleasure in the things around them: food, clothes, nature, animals, and especially people.ESFPs are typically warm and talkative and have a contagious enthusiasm for life. They like to be in the middle of the action and the center of attention. They have a playful, open sense of humor, and like to draw out other people and help them have a good time.

Likes: her family (both her human and sprites family ofc), dancing, teaching, partying, the warmth, recklessness, the warmth within Mt. Ardora, silent nights, learning, freedom.

Dislikes: getting her heart broken, liars, people who end up depriving Phoenix of her freedom, people who give up after failing, indifference, injustice, the cold weather, boredom

Bad Habits: lip biting, always has to walk around somehow, or, if everything else is impossible, taps her foot and plays with something (mostly her hair)

Secret Talent: dancing, teaching, love

Hobbies: the wide and dangerous spectrum of love (and she’d like to punch herself for that, actually, lmao), ballet, getting together with her friends to cause some trouble and go on adventures, gossip (but in a non-malicious way), 

Fears: waking up and realizing it was just a dream, being left alone, people avoiding her.

Five Positive Traits: passionate, fiery, compassionate, coquette, ambitious

Five Negative Traits: vengeful, temperamental, distrusting, vain, destructive

Other Mentionable Details: uses her ballet to get rid of her energy, uses dancing as her fighting style to contain her flames and direct them/to engulf herself in flames.

&. APPEARANCE

Tattoos: none

Piercings: earlobes

Reference Picture: ref picture

&. FAMILY INFORMATION

Parent Names: Jaco Barbsa (former soldier) & Linda Barbosa (retired nurse since Phoenix cared for their finances) 

Parent Relationship: she had an excellent relationship with her parents, they mean everything to her and she prays every day for them (despite not being religious, but her parents were)

Sibling Names: she has no siblings

Sibling Relationship: --

Other Relevant Relative: NAME UP TO POSSIBLE PLAYER -- (technically) husband. His whereabouts are unknown, but Phoenix believes he’s dead. And if he isn’t yet then he better run.

Children: --

Pets: --

&. BIOGRAPHY

( tw: war, heartbreak, stalking )

Little Evelyn Barbosa was a creation of pure love. Her father, Jaco Barbosa, had returned from war and was celebrated within Lisbon as one of the few making it back alive. He’d fallen in love with a shy and compassionate but stubborn young woman named Linda. The charme of a soldier appealed to her and, not even a few years later, Evelyn was born into a world torn apart by coups, death and anarchy.  No one questioned legitimacy as she’d always been a calm and sweet baby, smiling at the silliest pee-a-boo jokes. Despite her parents not being married, they stayed together despite the backlash from their families and even friends. A strong, grounded love in the midst of war. A love like her parents was the first she got to know. It was a love that made her childhood so comforting despite the ongoing wars within their midst. While the government struggled to uphold rules and even leaders, Evelyn remained in close proximity to her parents and their warmth. She grew up in a small, but lovely cottage in Belém, hidden away from the terrors of this world. One could even say she’d been sheltered and smothered with love -- others might, she certainly never did. Evelyn decided, at an early age, to repay her parents by aiming for a higher education, to eventually buy them a beautiful finca and enough food so they’d never have to worry about anything else. She turned out to be a little miracle, a progeny, a muse.

Dancing lifted her spirit, made her feel alive, burning with passion and dedication to the craft. Especially ballet. The pirouettes and poses, the blood, sweat and tears one had to give to perfection such beauty -- Evelyn enjoyed the idea of being excellent at something so extraordinary, watched and admired by thousands. She trained for years to come and, with a scholarship at one of Portugal’s best ballet companies (what would later rebrand and become the national ballet of Portugal in Lisbon), Evelyn fully committed to becoming a professional ballet dancer. With such a natural talent like hers, paired with the passion needed to survive against all the competition, enabled Evelyn to graduate with honors. This is when love intervened. Not only after a year of performing on the big stage, Evelyn met her match -- a young, handsome and charming man. They locked eyes and Evelyn was fun over, just like that. Five times he went to the same play before Evelyn eventually gave in and decided to get to know him. Saying she wasn’t in love would’ve been a lie, no, in reality she’d fallen in love with him the moment they locked eyes. With her career unfolding and with herself slowly making some decent money, Evelyn eventually bought her parents the finca she’d always promised them. With herself on top of the world, Evelyn let herself fall into the arms of one of the only people she truly trusted.

The war arrived in Portugal at a time in which Evelyn finally tried to talk to him. Both her father and the stranger she’d fallen for were drafted and Evelyn put all her energy back into ballet. Each day her anxiety increased and the news got worse with more and more people dying. She’d hoped for good news -- her father arrived first, wounded by a gunshot wound in his right arm, then, a few days later, he returned -- perfectly fine and barely changed. While this should've raised red flags for basically everybody else, Evelyn remained clueless and naive. Maybe he was just one of the lucky ones and had been able to prevent any injuries. She dedicated a large portion of her time to him after the war in the hopes of making up for all the lost minutes with him. Evelyn got engaged rather quickly after spending some wonderful weeks with him and, not even two months after their engagement, the two got married with all the glitz and glamor possible in their post-war world. They honeymooned on the coast of Portugal while reality struck her like lightning. All her belongings -- gone for good. Evelyn spent most of her honeymoon searching for answers, she even went as far as to believe he’d been kidnapped. Yet, her search ended up in various dead-ends.

Like a bird with broken wings Evelyn found herself grounded, completely lost of all her innocence and naivete. Her pink tinted glasses turned red and with that her mood completely changed. Instead of channelling her passion for ballet, Evelyn requested the next few weeks off to find out more after there’d been rumors of him being spotted in the Caribbeans. A fire ignited inside of her, pushing Evelyn forward towards her husband. The closer she got towards the Caribbeans, the more hope she had that everything would be alright in the end. There was still the possibility of him returning to her, of him just being kidnapped. Evelyn would never find out since the plane she’d boarded crashed and burned before she could even reach him. She awoke in a strange, but beautiful world. Evelyn survived her personal hellfire and emerged as a new person. Less naive, less tender and with her innocence lost she joined the fire sprites on her quest to true love. The passion located in her heart fit perfectly into the ranks of the fire sprites, as did her rage. She channelled the intensity of her personality by using fire and from that a Phoenix arose out of the ashes of everything she’d lost. Ardora not only provided her with the perfect opportunity to change, but it also opened a completely new world to her in which she could start anew without worrying about anything, or anyone, else. Phoenix completely devoted herself to the social structure of her new home, like she always did. From her fighting skills to her place within Ardora -- she cared and made sure she’d remain important and respected. She rarely got out of her shell at first, but it didn’t take too long for Phoenix to warm up to everyone else. With self-love everything seemed possible now. Phoenix arose with an appetite to express herself, to dance surrounded by fire, to test her limits. A sense of freedom completely took over from there and with the new name a completely new person entered this world: hardened, free, passionate. She crammed all her missed out years into a few months, went from exciting activity to the next big thing, hoping to keep that rush alive inside of her. It would never go out, that she’d only realize a few decades later. The fire inside of her, bright and warm, would never go out again. And that naive, little girl described in the beginning, eyes as bright as stars and her heart filled with love? Phoenix loved to surround herself with fire now, fully embracing the previously asleep firebug within -- her spark would soon ignite the hearts of many -- and she would gladly pour all her energy into welcoming the next generation.

[inorganicone2230]

The Caged Bird (Part 1) Yandere!Erasermic x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summery: For the Gods of Life and Death, loneliness seemed a heavy thing to bare when confronted with the prospect of facing it for an eternity, even with each other. That is until a chance encounter with a certain someone prompts them to think that just maybe, that lonely eternity can be abated, as long as they have the right person to share it with.

Side Note: This is a prequel to my other Yandere!Erasermic story called Divine Intervention. If you have not read that one yet, I highly recommend you go and do that before reading this one.

Warnings: Not many for this chapter, just some light stalking, mentions of future kidnapping and some mentions of breeding.

Eternity matters very little when one has existed since the beginning of time, and will continue to exist well into the future.

The same can be said for time, Hizashi thought as he stared into the waters of the koi pond. It was quite hard to understand the concept of time when it holds no meaning to beings like himself and Shouta, creatures who had come into existence already knowing who and what they were. From the moment they first breathed life they knew what their purpose in the world was, they knew everything, even what they meant to each other.

It had been so long since those early years, when they first began to watch the creatures that inhabited the world they now looked after, when they first began to watch the humans grow and live and die under Shouta's care, and Hizashi himself began to help them create new life and souls to take the place of the fallen who waited to be reborn.

Soon though, like with many things, habit took over and after a few centuries, the day to day flow of life and death took to the pattern and went on without much needed assistance from either of their respective deities. They were needed very little anymore, seeing as the humans seemed content to handle their affairs without any intervention from the ones they called gods.

Yes they were still worshiped, but anything the humans took as a sign from them was merely all in their heads, they saw gifts and blessings and answers to their prayers only in what they wanted to see, never realizing that it was all perceived.

Perhaps this lack of stimulation is when he and Shouta began to feel a need to spend more time together. It was inevitable really, even if they hadn't felt an immediate connection to one another the moment they were ‘born’, it was only natural that they would eventually be pushed together. Even beings of higher power were not immune to the effects of loneliness and being the only ones in this immortal realm, they soon found solace and love in each other, both emotionally and physically.

This day however found Hizashi alone and without his love to keep him company. Shouta having had to travel to the underworld, a place Hizashi adamantly refused to ever set foot in, for some reason he couldn't be bothered to remember. Standing up, he made the decision to try and find something to occupy his time until his counterpart returned.

Walking back into his and Shouta's room though, he noted that something was off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something was out of place. It took him a moment to notice that the change wasn't visual, but auditory, there was an ever present sound missing from the room.

The song of a little red cardinal that Shouta had gifted him with a few months ago. He had smiled sweetly, saying it was meant to keep him company on the rare days he would wake up in bed alone. Hizashi had dotted on the creature from the very moment he had seen it, and he felt very saddened as he stared at the now empty golden cage. He must have made the mistake of not latching the door properly when he had fed it this morning.

As luck would have it though, Shouta chose that very moment to walk in and upon seeing the forlorn look on his golden lovers face, immediately began to question him. “Zashi? What's wrong?” He asked gently, coming up behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Hizashi turned to face him, worrying Shouta even more when he saw the small tears in the corner of his eye. “Oh Shouta, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, a slight tremble to his voice.

Perplexed, Shouta took the blonds face in his hands. “Now what could you be apologizing for my love? Tell me.”

“The cardinal you gave me,” Hizashi started, looking once more at the empty cage. “I must not have locked it's cage properly this morning, and it got out.”

Now he understood the reason for his somber mood. “Ah, that is a shame. But we may be able to find it still.” He said teasingly, loving the way Hizashi instantly perked up.

“Really?! You think so?”

Shouta chuckled, Hizashi's eagerness practically contagious. “Of course, it was here in our realm long enough that some of our essence must have rubbed off on it. I bet it flew to the human realm and we can follow the trail. It couldn't have gotten very far after all.”

“Then let us go right away! We can just cloak ourselves to keep any of the mortals from bothering us!” He began to turn away, heading straight for the gateway they used when crossing realms, but stopped and turned to give Shouta a brilliant smile. “What would I ever have done without you Shou?”

Now it was Shouta's turn to blush a bit. “Probably about as well as I would have done without you Zashi.”

----------

Of course even for Gods, trying to find the little bird in the mortal realm was no easy feat, even if they did have an idea where it was. Namely, in one of the eastern countries forests.

“Perhaps we should come back tomorrow Shou? We will still be able to find it in the morning, our essence should still linger on the little creature even after a night away from us.” Hizashi suggested as he looked around. The sun was already beginning to set, twilight colors of orange and yellow filling up the tucked away little glen they found themselves in.

Hizashi’s good mood seemed to stick with him, even if they hadn't yet found his beloved little pet. Something that Shouta was extremely grateful for, he hated to see his golden partner without his trademark smile. But, his loves chipper mood does give him an idea, one he is all to willing to share with him as he reaches out to pull the blonde closer.

“You know, we don't have to return right away.” Shouta whispered into his ear. “It's so peaceful and quiet here, and the sunset is so lovely, it would be such a shame to waste it. Wouldn't you agree my love?” He pressed himself against his hip, laving Hizashi's neck with feather light kisses.

It didn't take Hizashi long to catch on, not that Shouta was being subtle about his desires, and he reached up to tangle his hands in black as night hair. “I think you are right.” He sighed, leaning back against a tree for support as Shouta grinned wickedly and dived in for a deep kiss that he was all too eager to return.

“You poor thing…”

Their passionate kiss abruptly ended the moment they heard the voice from somewhere behind them.

Tuning to look at a break in the trees, they spotted the figure of a young, pretty, mortal woman. Dressed in simple robes and kneeling in the grass to gently cradle something in her hands, Hizashi instantly recognizing the bright red feathers of his cardinal, along with the faintest hint of the heavenly aura that clung to it.

“Your wing is broken, but it appears to be a clean break.” She mumbled thoughtfully, bringing the lovely bird closer to her face for a closer inspection, her brow scrunching in a rather adorable way. “I should be able to fix you up, and in a few weeks you will be flying high in the sky again.”

The bird let out a weak little chirp and continued to lay still in the girls hands, as if it sensed that she posed no danger and was only looking to help. Both Gods silently admitting to themselves that it was a rather precious sight to behold.

Shouta noted that Hizashi was making no move to stop her as she got up and began to move away, walking slowly so as not to jostle or further harm the animal. “Are you not going to stop her? You were so adamant about finding it.”

The God of Life seemed to come out of a daze, shaking himself a bit and blinking his eyes. “I… don't know. It seems as if she is just trying to help.” He mumbled, as the two of them began to follow the oblivious girl through the darkening forest. “Quite the odd gesture for a human, they normally wouldn't stop to help one of their own kind unless it benefited them in some way, let alone a wounded animal.”

Shouta couldn't deny his agreement with the observation. It seemed they were both intrigued by this turn of events. He was curious to see where this fascination would lead them if they continued to watch this play out. “Perhaps we should allow her to care for it. We can retrieve it once it has been healed.” Shouta said, knowing that Hizashi’s interest would cause him to take to the suggestion right away. The blonde grinned and nodded, just as he expected him to. At the very least, this will prove to be a way to kill some time, he thought.

They continued to follow her, listening as she cooed and spoke to the feathered creature in her hands. Hizashi found himself thinking that it was a voice best suited for a mother, a voice meant for singing lullabies and chasing away nightmares.

Wait… what…? Hizashi gave himself pause. Where had that come from?

It was so random, a prospect that had never crossed him before. But now that it was there, it was running rampant in his mind. Like a wildfire, it exploded and he was consumed with thoughts of little bodies nestled in strong arms, the pitter-patter of feet on marble floors, and the sounds of mirth and laughter echoing through the empty halls of the palace.

He was so consumed with these fantasies that he failed to notice they had followed the girl all the way to her destination, jumping when The God of Death took his hand in his own and bringing him back to reality.

“Are you alright Zashi?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his tone.

“Of course!” He replied, just a tad bit too exuberantly. His smile dropping a bit when Shouta raised a knowing brow indicating that he was not taken in by it. “Truly, I'm fine Shou. I was just caught up in some rather unexpected thoughts. I can tell you all about them when we get home. How does that sound?”

“I have a feeling I know what those thoughts might entail, but I would love to hear them nonetheless.” Shouta said, satisfied for now with the knowledge that they could speak about it later.

They watched as the girl entered a modest looking home that was secluded away from other people, close to the edge of the forest. And upon closer inspection, it appeared that she lived alone as well.

They watched her for a bit longer as she lit candles and a fire in the hearth and began tending to the birds broken wing with expert hands, her touches light and quick as if she had done this plenty of times before.

All to soon she was done, preparing a small meal for herself and crushing a few berries for the bird before retiring for the evening, leaving the two men to reluctantly return to their home in the heavens.

----------

Later that night, as Shouta and Hizashi held each other close in bed, they spoke quietly of many things, including what had transpired that day and how it could affect their future.

They spoke of the need they felt to be together more often than in the past, of the guilt Shouta felt whenever he had to leave Hizashi to go to the underworld, of Hizashi's lonely days spent in this large empty palace tending to the Water’s of Eternity, and of what Hizashi realized out in the forest. Unbeknownst to him at that time, Shouta was having the same thoughts concerning the pretty human girl.

They whispered to each other how wonderful it would be to have another with them to fill the void whenever the other was gone, how nice it would be to have a feminine presence around their home, and how soon they would be filling the rooms of it with little ones.

“She has such a sweet voice Shouta.” Came Hizashi's dreamy sigh as he nuzzled his face into  his lovers broad chest. “I can't stop imagining what it will be like to listen to her sing a lullaby, it will be so perfect!”

Shouta chuckled at his antics, his own thoughts consumed with many of the same ideas. “Yes. And she seems to have a very nurturing personality, perfect for a mother.” He added, feeling himself being swept along by Hizashi's enthusiasm.

“I know it's a bit early to make a final decision, but I can't help feeling like this was meant to be Shouta. Like this is what we have been waiting for and we were supposed to find her.” Hizashi felt a wellspring of happiness at just the thought of what the future was looking to hold for them.

Shouta nodded along, content to listen to all of the blonds gushing fantasies and plans, taking note of ones he came back to repeatedly so that they could better plan for them later on.

“We can go back tomorrow and watch some more.” Hizashi finally seemed to have calmed down a bit, though the big smile he wore for the last few hours stayed in place. “I want to know everything about her. She is going to be so happy once we bring her home, once she sees all the work we will have put in. I just know it.”

“I agree, we’ll have to plan accordingly and approach her only when the time is right. We don't want to give her cause to think she has reason to fear us, that just wouldn't do.” Shouta said, plans already forming in his head as he ran his hands through Hizashi's hair.

The two stayed up well into the night discussing all their hopes and dreams this new plan was bringing out, neither one ever realizing that they had never even learned what the girls name was.

I’m not too sure how I feel about this chapter honestly, but as long as you all like it I’ll be happy!

Let me know what you thought and please enjoy!

[star-captain]

So Much Better

Angst? Yes please! I’ve had the honor to give Red’s au life, to create a story around his amazing artwork. And I can’t help but latch onto the dramatic scene of Edolas Mumbo meeting his Hermit self. 

The Edolas team has found themselves in the Hermit world, and are meeting people with the same face, but different personality. Edolas Mumbo’s insecurities rise and boil over when he comes face to face with a better version of himself.

Edolas AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland

Warning: Alcoholism, Violence, drug mention

It’s been some time since the hermits have been open to visitors from other worlds. A new world can be stressful, and it’s best just to keep to themselves while they sort it all out. Better to deal with their own chaos before adding in someone else’s. But eventually, trouble finds them. 

From the Edolas world, it was just natural to explore what’s beyond. Xisuma makes it impossible not to be curious about what��s on the other side of his crazy portals he macgyvers together. And when Scar ultimately pushes Mumbo in, Grian has to jump after. Everyone else follows in after, with Impulse being dragged in last by an overzealous Zedaph. Black ground bursts out from the portal, massive stone pillars capturing the energy of floating crystals between the tongs. Purple mist swirls beneath the glass at their feet, every so often lightning snapping across the cloudy air. 

“Oh, that definitely didn’t take long.” Scar chuckles, peering over the nether portal. “Though I definitely was expecting visitors of the more...pig variety.” 

“Scar?” Edolas Grian coos, tilting his head and looking at the man above the crowd. He has the exact same face, the same voice as Scar, but he acts completely different. He’s...well, he’s cheery, friendly. 

“That’s not me man.” Edolas Scar growls, looking at the dopey version of himself before him. 

“Aha! I knew it! Alternate Universes! Worlds with the same people, experiencing different choices!” Edolas Xisuma scrabbles up the smooth obsidian monument, practically hopping onto Scar and scaring the daylights out of him. “They are obviously nothing like us! I mean, this Scar here is in his underwear!” 

“Hey, it’s not my fault the infinity portal forgot my pants!” Scar whines. He looks across the group, pushing the feral scientist off his perch. They all look like his friends, and yet nothing like the other hermits. It’s creepy. It’s cool. It’s magical. “You should definitely check out the other hermits, then. They’re a pretty awesome bunch, if I do say so myself.” 

“If they’re anything like you, they’re bound to be strange.” Mumbo grumbles, keeping close to Grian. He’d rather just go back to his world. He doesn’t want to meet with whatever there is out in this world. And he definitely doesn’t want to see what his alternate self is like. If he’s nothing like Mumbo, then he’s obviously not cool. He’s obviously a dork, a baby. He’s probably...Mumbo shakes the thoughts away from his head. He’s not letting those thoughts give themselves credence. If only he had some vodka on him, there’s no faster way to get rid of such thoughts. 

So of course the first person Scar offers for them to see is this world’s Mumbo. “I think him and the other Architechs are doing some sort of get together. I know Iskall and Mumbo are partners, but I don’t know what Grian has to offer. Cactus maybe?” 

“Why would this place’s Iskall want to partner with Mumbo? I can hardly stand this jackass.” Edolas Iskall sneers, glaring at Mumbo. Mumbo flips the bird back, hiding it from Grian. He knows Grian doesn’t like getting into arguments, but Mumbo thrives off conflict. He tries to keep it hidden from his friend. To keep him from getting anxiety from the tension. 

“Mumbo is a really cool dude. Trust me, his work is amazin. “ Scar cheers, guiding the crew into the depths of the jungle, heading westward. “He’s super smart, he makes these machines that just blow my mind with all kinds of redstone.” 

“Definitely the opposite of our Mumbo. I don’t think he can count to ten...unless it’s ten shots.” Edolas Scar hisses, stepping way too close to Mumbo’s personal space for his liking. Mumbo shoves him away, muscles tightening as he listens to Scar talk. Both Scars are beyond annoying, for different reasons. The Scar Mumbo knows is annoying because he’s a prick, a jackass who can’t shut his mouth unless it’s broken for him. This ‘hermit’ Scar is annoying because he won’t be quiet about things. He won’t stop talking about all the amazing achievements that his Mumbo has done. An entire company with automated delivery, walking houses and hands-free machines. 

The more Scar talks about Hermit Mumbo, the more Edolas Mumbo hates him. He’s smart, and popular. Even this Scar likes him. Mumbo, on the other hand, struggles to even keep Grian around. Why would Grian want to stay around him? He’s not smart, or popular. He’s not jubilant or silly like this one seems to be. No, Edolas Mumbo is a piece of shit with nothing good to his name. The only thing he’s smart on is the best kind of drinks and drugs, he’s only popular when it comes to seducing people. 

The group arrives at the quiet river, the potatoes growing before the circular hovel nestled in the hillside. Across the river, a series of machines are running at lightning pace. Xisuma can’t help being drawn to the inventions, optimized to give the best products in the shortest amount of time. Iron farms working nonstop, sugarcane growing as fast as possible, and a smelter cooking without a single coal wasted. 

“Hey Mumbo! I have some friends that would love to meet you!” Scar yells, poking his head through where a door should be. It seems Scar isn’t the only one to fall victim of the Jungle Bandit. 

“I wouldn’t say ‘love’.” Mumbo hisses. He winces as Grian slaps his shoulder lightly. 

“Be kind, Mumbo. We’re guests, and you shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover.” Grian whispers. 

Three familiar faces peer out the massive glass window. All three are easy to identify, though some more than others. Iskall still has his emerald eye, but rather than an eternal frown on his face, his cheeks are creased with dimples. Grian has an evil glint in his eye, practically rushing down the ladder to meet the strangers at the doorstep. 

The two Mumbo’s simply stare at one another. The same face, same black hair and smooth mustache, on completely different people. Hermit Mumbo’s hair is slicked back, neat and tidy. His mustache is well trimmed, and he wears a well tailored suit. Edolas Mumbo’s hair sticks out in every direction, like he just woke up from a drunken stupor. Probably because he did. Piercings litter his face, cool metal brushing against his frazzled mustache and hair. Mumbo looks at his clothes, dirty and stained with alcohol and...well, other things. He just grabbed whatever was the least dirty, wore it out to party last night then fell asleep in it. 

Hermit Grian flies up, locking in on his counterpart. Edolas Grian squeaks, hiding behind Mumbo. “Whoa, I look good in every world.” 

Grian tugs on his bowtie, gulping as he dares to look closer at himself. Hermit Grian can barely keep still, bouncing from foot to foot and even fluttering the elytra wings on his back. Mumbo steps back between the two, seeing the mischievous glitter in Hermit Grian’s eyes. He’s seen that kind of trouble before. This one is a little shit. A gremlin. Nothing like the ball of anxiety behind him. Edolas Grian couldn’t even knock over a punching bag without apologizing. 

Hermit Grian looks up, surprised by the angry face. He’s not sure if he’s ever seen Mumbo make that kind of a stare. Daggers cutting through him, like some terrifying biker or punk rocker. “I don’t know if I like Mumbo with ear piercings however.” 

“Tough, because they’re staying.” If anything, now he wants to get more. Just to spite the gremlin in front of him. 

“You’re me?” Mumbo questions, appearing from his hobbit hole. “Wow...I look...I look…” Mumbo is at a loss of words, glancing over his Edolas counterpart. He looks badass, like some guy who knows how to find trouble and win. He’d make a better mole than Hermit Mumbo. 

But under the gaze of Hermit Mumbo, Edolas Mumbo can feel every part of him being scrutinized. His sloppy dress, the alcohol on his breath. Every insecurity, every vice and weakness is under a microscope. 

“This is the man of the hour, let me just say. I mean, look at this awesome iron farm he just built!” Scar waves the group over to Mumbo’s work. “How many iron ingots does it make?” 

Hermit Mumbo scuffles his feet, blushing. “Oh, something like 3,000 ingots and hour. It’s not the fastest, but it’s more than enough for me.” 

Mumbo rolls his eyes as the others gasp in awe. What a waste of energy. Who even needs 3,000 ingots? Mumbo can think of a thousand better things to waste his time on than making such ridiculous contraptions. Hermit Mumbo is just lazy. Smart, smarter than Edolas Mumbo, but surely he’s lazy. 

At least, until he starts to show his current project. Edolas Grian gravitates towards Hermit Mumbo, enjoying the calm and funny personality. And that infuriates Mumbo. Even his best friend things this useless brainiac is better than him? Grian points at the half-finished machine, in awe with wide eyes. Wrapped into the conversation. “What does this do, Mumbo?” 

Hermit Mumbo goes into some long winded explanation, and the second Mumbo hears his own voice, he tunes out. But he can’t help but watch as his own friends are rapt with Mumbo’s words. Xisuma is taking notes at a feverish pace, and even Scar is listening to the suited version of Mumbo. 

No one is better than me. Mumbo reminds himself. He may not be as smart, or as popular, or as funny, or as kind as Hermit Mumbo. But he’s cooler. He’s sly, he’s independent, he’s the life of the fucking party. This guy… this guy can’t stop talking about t-flops or whatever. 

Edolas Mumbo sneers as Edolas Scar looms close, resting his arm on Mumbo’s jacket. “Would you look at that. Even your best friend prefers this version to you.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” Mumbo steps back, letting Scar fall flat on his face. But Mumbo looks at Grian, both Grians listening intently to Mumbo show off his spectacular knowledge. The machine starts to fire, turning the farm on and beginning it’s collection. 

Even he is better than me. Mumbo can’t build incredible designs, machines that make life easier, that astonish and astound. Machines that Mumbo could never even begin to imagine, much less build himself. He can hardly even get the key of his own apartment into the lock most days. Mumbo can’t make friends, even the people he hangs out with most would rather eat fermented spider eye than call him an ally. He’s not funny unless he’s got a cocktail of drugs mixing up his mind and body. And the last thing anyone, even Grian, would call Mumbo is kind. He’s an asshole, a bastard. A rubbish friend and an even more rubbish person. A waste of space. A waste of time, a waste of effort.

Mumbo rolls his eyes, but he hears Edolas Grian’s bright voice over the amazement of the others. “You’re so cool, Mumbo! You can make all this incredible stuff, and you’re smart enough to explain it all. And kind enough to show us it all, I can’t imagine thinking of all this. This has to be why so many people ask you for help!” 

Edolas Mumbo can hear something snap, like a bone breaking in his own mind. His own heart. Grian never called him smart, or kind. No one has ever called him anything except a bastard, or a fucker, or an asshole. He hardly feels his fists clench, looking at his own face. How long has Mumbo wanted to punch himself, to beat himself up? To give him what he deserves? How often has he looked in the mirror, drunk and high, and just wanted to knock himself out? 

“Oh, it’s nothing really, mate. I’m honestly not that good, you should see something like Impulse.” Hermit Mumbo overs a shy smile, eyes closed as he smooths back his hair. His awkward chuckle is cut short as a rough grip wraps around his neck. Hermit Mumbo’s legs kick out as the raging grip raises him from the grass. He forces his eyes open, hand grabbing at the tattooed arm- of himself. 

“Stop being better than me!” Edolas Mumbo shouts, fists shaking and a prick of tears burning at the corners of his eyes. Mumbo looks down the arm holding him up, head tipped high but eyes glancing down to see his own face. He gasps for air, holding onto the arm suspending him in the air. And despite being physically in peril, he can see that he’s not the one suffering as much as Edolas Mumbo. In shared grey eyes, he can see the pain, the fear. 

Edolas Mumbo is terrified. Everyone thinks this Mumbo is so much better- because they’re right. He is a thousand times better than him. Scar prefers him, Xisuma prefers him. Even his best friend, Grian, prefers this Mumbo to him. They’ll ditch Mumbo in no time, in lieu of so much better a version. He’s nothing compared to the amazing, perfect person he has grasped in his hand. He’s just a bastard, someone that everyone hates. Someone that everyone wants gone. 

“Mumbo! Stop it, what are you thinking?” Both Mumbos look over, seeing Edolas Grian with tears streaking down his face. Torn between wanting to tell his friend off for being so aggressive, and wanting to calm him down. But for Edolas Mumbo, seeing his best friend crying because of him lets him know that he’s done it again. He’s fucked it all up again, because he can’t handle his own emotions. He can’t control himself, he can’t be anything except a piece of shit and a walking disaster. 

Mumbo let’s go of his own neck, lightly setting Hermit Mumbo onto his feet. The tiny tears have grown to full floods, guilt and regret and hatred all boiling over. Despite the soft landing, Mumbo still falls to his knees, trying to regain control of his heartbeat and body. He looks up, wanting to ask himself what the problem was. Why he was more afraid than Hermit Mumbo. 

But he’s gone, a cavity bored through the crowd that surrounded him. Hermit Grian steps in, looking at Mumbo’s neck. It’s red, but not bruised. Despite the anger in Edolas Mumbo’s grip, he couldn’t bring himself to actually hurt another person for no reason other than wanting to bring pain to himself. Grian looks at the shaking Grian. “I think he needs some help.” 

---------------------------

“Mumbo?” Grian whispers, peeking his head into the empty bar. It’s midday, but he knew that if Mumbo was going to go anywhere, it was here. This is his favorite haunt, where he can get the cheapest prices on drinks, find the best new addictions, and hit up the next morning’s mistake. 

There’s only two people in the dark, smoky bar. The bartender, who nods to the end of the line of stools. The darkest corner. Mumbo is surrounded by an assortment of bottles, shots, and whiskey glasses. Mumbo’s head is against the glistening and sticky counter, hand still clutching the current bottle. Grian creeps closer, clambering onto the stool next to Mumbo. 

“I thought you’d rather be with that perfect version of me.” Mumbo growls, turning his gaze away from his friend. “And why wouldn’t you, huh?” 

“Mumbo, I-” Grian flinches back as Mumbo snaps at him, cutting him off. He can smell the alcohol on his breath. This may not be the first time Grian has had to help Mumbo through a bout of alcohol poisoning. Hopefully he won’t need the hospital this time. 

“Just leave me, get something better than this piece of shit. Someone smarter than me, kinder than me. Someone who can actually do something useful with their life. Who’s good at so many things. Redstone, being nice, being funny and friendly and smart and such a great person!” Mumbo grasps the bottle in his hand until the glass shatters, shards digging into his skin. Grian has never seen his best friend so low. He’s afraid, not for his own safety. For Mumbo’s. “And what am I good at? Nothing. Nothing except overdosing in an alley outside a bar.” 

Mumbo’s head snaps to the side, cheek stinging and burning red. His eyesight is set straight, free from the drunken stupor for just a moment. Just enough to look back, and see Grian. With his hand still up, and his face creased with sorrow and tears. Deep valleys as he holds back his own cries. Not because he’s sad for himself. But sad for Mumbo. “How could you say such a thing? How could you honestly think that any of us would want you any different than who you are?” 

“Because he’s-” 

“Because he’s you? He’s not you, Mumbo. He’s got a different world, a different life. A different place that he grew up in. A different set of vices and worries than you.” Grian scoots the stool closer, forcing Mumbo to listen. “He’s smart, and kind. But that doesn’t make us ever want to get rid of you! You are wild, and clever, and there’s not another person in this world that would step into a fight for any one of us. Even for Scar, if it came down to it.” 

“Great, so I’m just you guys’s bodyguard.” Mumbo hisses, looking at the glass buried in his fingers. 

“No, Mumbo! Just...for once listen to me, for fuck’s sake!” The sharp curse that crosses over Grian’s lips is enough to snap Mumbo back to his words. Grian never swears, he’s too much of a goody-two-shoes for that. “We are your friends because we want to be! We hang out with you because we enjoy it! Just because one person is different than you doesn’t mean you’re any better or worse!” 

Mumbo’s voice is gone from his lips, and all he can do is breathe in and out. He can’t think of any retort for Grian’s words. Just one thing. “I messed up, Grian.” 

“We all mess up. But the important thing is learning from it. Learning from our mistakes, and being better from it. Maybe...one day we can go back and smooth things over with Hermit Mumbo. But...for now, let’s get you some help.”