#to relatively small things as well as his own personal mythology

[agnesandhilda]

I am a strong supporter of the "kaiser fixates on his mother as an actress/on other troubled female celebrities" concept on the basis of him having mommy issues as well of him being flamboyantly queer and drawn to femininity

[the-monkey-ruler]

You said that demons do not have communities or clans according to the ancient literature of Chinese mythology, however, in Journey to the West, they have caves, children, sworn brothers and adopted family and subjects that I believe you mentioned obeyed the king for protection and survival. Wouldn't that be something to do as a community or groups? they would be quite large groups. or would this just be called groups? However, I understood it that way, so sorry if that's not the case.

My other question is, I see that it is repeated a lot that "minions" serve the demon kings, so are Minions like other lower-ranking demons and they should not necessarily be the same species as the demon king? (Like, in the first chapters, I see that two demons put themselves at the service of Wukong and it is implied that they were not monkeys)

You said that demons do not have communities or clans according to the ancient literature of Chinese mythology,

You must have misread what I say because I said that clans were "rarely" the case, not that they didn't exist. Please be aware of that.

however, in Journey to the West, they have caves, children, sworn brothers and adopted family and subjects that I believe you mentioned obeyed the king for protection and survival.

Well, you answered yourself in that question. I have always taken it that clans are imminent family or biological relatives, with leeway to adopt kids, but otherwise, sworn brothers and kingdoms are not counted. You can be sworn brothers but of different clans, like Wukong has his family the Sun Clan but none of his sworn brothers or their kingdoms were a part of that. And that you can have kingdoms but they can not your clan as kingdom are more minions following a demon king as their boss rather than a family.

Anyway, demon clans are rarely the case because there are few demons that either marry or have children. We see this a few times but in comparison to the many other demons that is what makes it very small. The smallest 'clan' that I wouldn't consider a clan with White Deer and his adopted daughter White Faced Fox. I would say that maybe the Bull King, Iron Fan, Jade Face, and Red Boy could be considered a clan. The Spider Sisters 'adopted' bugs as their sons of fear of death so take that as you will. And the Nine-Headed Lion adopted 7 lions of his own to be considered family. The only one that has a real clan title though is Wukong as he gave his entire kingdom the honor of being his grandkids and calling themselves by his surname. You will see that with most kingdoms, Kings don't just adopt all their subjects and give them their surnames.

Wouldn't that be something to do as a community or groups? they would be quite large groups. or would this just be called groups? However, I understood it that way, so sorry if that's not the case.

Also I wouldn't consider the kingdoms in Xiyouji are communities as I considered them military strongholds instead. While kingdoms do have multiple assets such as housing, food, and health, I think that communities would also cater to education, child care, and an economy. Demons rarely make their own goods, there are no farmer demons, no craftsmen demons, no demons that made raw materials or items, all they have the take from human villages. Demons have to pillage and plunder because they cannot make things for themselves because they just don't have the resources or well-established community to do so. Demon Kingdoms are more glorified palaces with the royals and the servants organized in a military personal. They are made for the purpose of the Demon King in question and yes they are a group of demons together but they only thrive under their King when they work for them. They are not given education or opportunities to learn arts as members of a 'community' but rather should be more regarded as 'hired help' that are there for their own needs as well to work under the 'company'.

Demons don't work under kings to have a place to settle down or raise a family, they are there to work under their King and fulfill their duties. Demon Kingdoms provide shelter, food, and protection but only if the minions agree to work for their keep. I wouldn't consider this a clan as they are not a family, and I wouldn't consider this a community as it runs more as a military. While you can consider that a community of some kind I personally think of a community being more well-rounded than that.

What I was trying to say with that there are few communities is that you rarely see demon towns or demon neighborhoods. We never see demons that are part of a community that isn't military-oriented or serving under their King. We never see demon civilians or demon villagers. And the only time we do see demons that are not in militaries/kingdoms is when they are loners and trying to cultivate their qi more by eating humans. Demon can certainly have connections and friends but when it comes to complex civilization compared to humans or the heavens, then it is certainly lacking.

My other question is, I see that it is repeated a lot that "minions" serve the demon kings, so are Minions like other lower-ranking demons and they should not necessarily be the same species as the demon king? (Like, in the first chapters, I see that two demons put themselves at the service of Wukong and it is implied that they were not monkeys)

And yes the minions that serve demons kinds are to be considered low ranking and often if is the case they are different spices. As said before demons have to cultivate individually so it is rare if demons are of the same family. We see this often in Xiyouji if you see what kind of animals the servants are when Wukong kills them. Sly Devil, Wily Worm, Hill-Pawing Tiger, and Sea-Lolling Dragon all work under Silver Horn and Golden Horn but they are considered a bird, bug, tiger, and reptile if we trust their namesakes. Benbo'erba and Babo'erben are a sheatfish and a black fish working under the Wansheng Dragon King. Shifty-and-Freaky and Freaky-and-Shifty are both wovles under the Grand Lion Saint of Nine Spirits. Spring Grace is a fox working under Great King Jupiter's Rival. All of them are different species for the most part and all are much weaker than their King.

Wukong is a special case in that MOST if not all of his subjects are his monkeys whether that being macaques, gibbons, or horse monkeys. The only exceptions are two one-horned demons that gave Wukong the idea of his "great sage" title. But even then Wukong didn't care when they got captured as he didn't consider them his 'kind'. They were not his clan.

The tigers, leopards, wolves, insects, badgers, foxes, and many more were captured but not a single monkey. Wukong adopted his monkey and thus made his clan being only his monkeys, but to anyone else under his kingdom or under his sworn brothers, they are more like hired help.

Kingdoms can provide a lot and even provide a common-minded group with a common goal but they shouldn't be mistaken for a family clan nor should they forget that there is a hierarchy that must be followed where the King is the top priority and not its inhabitants.

If I had to make like a list of most close-knit to most military it would be.

Clans/Family/Adopted - fairly rare and very small (excluding Wukong)

Communities/Villages - nearly non-existent

Sworn Brothers - rare but mostly made mostly for the sake of military connections.

Kingdoms/Military - Most common

If you have the time then I would suggest to anyone to please watch 小妖怪的夏天 from 中国奇谭. This shows Tang Sanzang's journey from the perspective of a minor demon and what it is like being under a demon king. AND I THINK IT IS PERFECT. Great animation and voice acting but also what is is like being a weak demon compared to demon generals or even a demon king... AND THEN COMPARED TO SUN WUKONG. It does a great job showing the power structure of demon kingdoms and I think that is captures how kingdoms are meant to be more military-focused and job oriented than anything family or community-centered. Personally, I think this is a close-perfect interpretation but this is just an interpretation and people can have different idea of how kingdom hierarchies are seen. And even shows how Yaogaui react to Sun Wukong, a yaoguai like them being seen as a hero.

Please give this a watch even if you just wanna see a SECOND of Sun Wukong in the end. (Also please watch after the credits if you don't wanna be sad I promise it has a happy ending.)

[drgnbld]

◓

MEET MY MUSES TEAM! / @tohjofallsexile.

now, it wasn't unusual for lance to have non-dragon types on his team - in a way that had also been his signature move in confusing challengers expecting a full blown dragon typing team to only come across a rock-flying type mid way through battle. he was able to argue it most times, pokémon such as gyarados or aerodactyl were part of the draconid cosmology and were thought to have had that typing somewhere in their genealogy but environmental adaptation could have changed to make them the typings they are today. gyarados especially had mythological stories told by lance's own ancestors.

however, when the red light of his pokéball shot out and started to form a relatively small form (considering the heights of the rest of his team) one could be completely caught off-guard and even more so when a bouncing, bubbly ampharos appeared with its cry. its body didn't leave lance's side but rather swayed in gentle motions with a goofy smile adding to their charm.

" meet butterscotch, and yes that's her official nickname given by one of the kids back home. within days everyone was referring to her as it and well, she didn't seem too bothered by it. you can call her bou, scotch, bubu someone else said once. and as you can see: she's an ampharos. a delightful electric pokémon who evolve from mareep, but i'm sure you knew that already. "

ampharos hadn't been part of lance's team for very long, and only often comes out in official battles to help strengthen both him physically and her bond with lance; yet she's extremely good - determined even - to hold her ground in a battle. there's been a few instances where she's come out completely on top! the question asked by most since discovering the small pokémon in his team is her connection to dragons. in fact, it was only due to a relatively recent trip to kalos (three years ago) which answered the exact same questions lance had after a few tamers living in the area had contacted him about the particular species.

when commanded, ampharos jumps into a 180 spin to show off the light on his tail but what's more, the small charm attached around it with an even smaller pendant attached to it. a megastone. revealing himself a necklace of similar design from under the collar of his jump suit, lance begins the mega transformation ( he's seen it a lot in his travels recently, but has yet to show off like steven or diantha during battles - it's, funnily enough, not his thing ). bright, electrical like shocks connect the two glowing stones together and within moments that relatively goofy small ampharos had now taken on a new form. what the professors had mentioned as their final form.

lance had seen charizard preform the transformation into a dragon typing multiple times - it had almost made sense given the beast was part of that cosmology mentioned briefly before - but upon the discovery that ampharos could also mega evolve into a dragon-type lance became obsessed. this small, electric sheep often kept in farms, had once been a dragon type.

butterscotch had yet to really get the memo of dragon-like appearances. oh, she had the aesthetics down to a T, and within a conjured up thunderstorm you could certainly tell that she was a force to be reckoned with, but that extremely joyful personality of hers always shone through. it was endearing though, and lance loved her like any member of his team.

" the first time i brought her home the clan were... perplexed, to say the least, but her charming characteristics meant she's fit in incredibly well with pokémon and trainers alike. we've got some growing to do undeniably. i'm not an expert on mega-evolution and a part of me wonders if they pokémon themselves actually enjoy the transformation process, sometimes it sounds or looks like they're in pain. " last he heard, there was current research into that, he's sure of it.

" because of it, we don't tend to push the transition that often. dragon or not though, she's a phenomenal team member and i'm lucky to have her. "

[mellea-art-home]

Pt. 1

This I write as the last words to be heard by my hand, and to attest to the atrocities of which I have bore witness to. I must be clear, no answers will come to you, or comfort learning what I have seen and know now. I was damned long before taking that job researching things that man had best left alone. But to get to explaining what happened we must understand who I am, god I must be honest, I am but a shell of a man, let alone far and away from the same person I was where this story starts us.

I had grown up in a small everybody knows everybody town in New England, quaint idyllic life for most people nowadays. I had been raised in a relatively religious household, little more than Easter church, and prayer before meals as a young lad. I had a fascination with religions, and mythologies, going through from Greek, to Norse, and even some Eastern mythologies where I could find content in my small town library.

This led me to being enamored in learning about the bizarre and occult secrets like Paganism in my mid-teens, familiarizing myself with all the little details, I guess this is also how my desire for being a historian started. I worked hard through my teens, always the odd one, somewhere between the school nerd, and goth, both envied and hated, and now only one of those may be true for those who know me, knew feels more apt after that last job.

The ostracizing never really was a concern for me, as much as it was my parents, but given my performance in school being near top of the school by graduation, they never seemed to approach me about their concerns directly, but I could hear them talking through the walls at night. They did congratulate me soon after graduation when I had managed to get a scholarship into a quite prestigious college for a major in history.

And this is where my life started proper, I had to move a number of hours away, and lived in a dorm with three other students. We managed to get along quite well given all of us seemed to be out of state, and in different courses, one was in music, one business, and another in forensics. We managed to become drinking buddies at the frat parties that were hosted around, even getting into young trouble by dipping into the local bars, and on more than one occasion banned for upwards of a month.

All this to say get to where things properly start, with the professor for history, a man at the time was quite young compared to the other professors in the school, it felt like night and day between him and the teacher next door, one side with a late thirties man, well kept dark hair and quite the surprising energy about him, and the other side a man who seemed to have more hair on his thin arms than his head. The history teacher was Dr. Myard Hammond, he was an expert in the esoteric, and less savory details of history, human, and as I came to find out, inhuman knowledge. 

Given my passion and striking fondness for the subject I spent many off periods throughout the first two years discussing the very macabre and obscure histories of the world, including religions on their societies. 

It wasn’t until my second year, December had fallen and we were just about a week out from Christmas break, the students were either taking Midterms or burning out from them, so the bars were quite alive that night, I was out with my roommates and as the lot of them talk about heading back for the night. They all had their various reasons between their own tests coming up, or lack of sleep biting at them for proper repose they left.

I stayed seated at the booth, finishing my drink, figuring that if nothing else I should also get some repose, burning myself to finish a few classes worth of studying for a number of overlapping test days ahead. I had just about finished when looking up I saw Dr. Hammond enter, the only tell the door was opened was a quick biting wind from the frosty air outside, the place was too lively and loud to hear the small bell above the door ring.

I motioned him over as he looked around, and I noticed that even under his large coat, he was a disheveled man, I could see the bags under his eyes, unkempt hair, wrinkled dress shirt poking out the bottom untucked. He seemed skittish, surprised someone would recognise him almost, and I soon came to find out why once he tentatively sat down, confirming nobody else was coming back to sit there. He ended up getting some strong liquor and kept looking into his glass most of the while.

I by this point was at least mostly intoxicated, with some wits still about me, asked jovially of his day, unaware of his tense nature.

He mumbled to himself some, then looked up at me, and even through the alcohol I saw the eyes of a desperate man, he was half the man I saw just a day before, and when he spoke all the energy that had been so pervasive through all his classes was now gone, he made no sense at the time, talking of some place he called the ‘sunken city’. I pressed if he was talking of Atlantis, and what that has to do with anything.

He had slapped his hand on the table, just barely shaking the drinks and said, ‘God damn, I know Atlantis, but where, by the Dead Gods Where! They have been found from the deep Amazon, to the deep Sahara, where did you slimy Bastards hide the last key.’ his voice was unusually sharp, and edged, and seemed to be talking to himself more than me.

[unsightlymuse]

A.S. Kline is a close second.

Mostly because of a few certain...let us call them Artistic Choices made in the translation of one very specific scene from Book 18.

To provide you with some much-needed context, reading through this particular passage from Kline’s ‘Odyssey’ caused my generally-very-sensible-and-quite-composed Classics class to dissolve into a collective fit of pure, unadulterated mirth. Well, it was mainly just a small group of us who had already established ourselves as a ‘Fellowship’ after bonding over several humorous incidents involving sheep, such as the misreading of ‘sweet sleep’ as ‘sweet sheep’ by yours truly, the formation of a brand new cult religion, the revival of the relatively unknown ancient ritual of ‘spiritual frolicking’, and the Baa-ification of the very text that we were meant to be studying (Homeric Scholarship at its finest, folks), but I digress. It is now time for me to spread the good word. I am practically “quivering” with excitement over this. (Oh Good Gods it has begun-)

So, without further ado, here are some of my favourite Out Of Context lines from this gold-mine of an extract.

Bk XVIII:50-116 Odysseus and Irus fight

“this hungry belly of mine, always creating trouble”

“royal Telemachus spoke again: '(…) whoever strikes you will have to deal with more than just you. I am your host (…)��”

“Odysseus girded his rags about his loins, baring his solid well-made thighs, showing his broad shoulders, and his muscular chest and arms.”

“Athene herself drew close, and enhanced the limbs”

“All the Suitors marvelled greatly”

“‘Irus will soon reap his own reward, and be un-Irused, given the thighs that old man shows under his rags.'”

“Irus' heart was shaken as they spoke”

“the flesh on his limbs quivering with fear.”

“Antinous abused him, shouting: 'You Windbag! It would be better if you were dead or had never been born, if you're going to tremble like that”

“At this Irus’ limbs quivered all the more”

“Then noble long-suffering Odysseus debated whether to strike him dead on the spot”

“he pitched in the dust with a groan, gnashing his teeth and flailing the ground with his feet.”

“At this the noble Suitors threw up their hands and nearly died of laughter.” (lol same)

“Then Odysseus grabbed him by the foot, and dragged him out of the door”

…

*deep breath*

It was me.

I was the person saddled with the frankly Herculean task of having to read this part out loud. I volunteer to do so fairly often, but I had NO IDEA as to what I’d be in for this time around. I was literally hunched over my laptop, doubled-over in laughter while simultaneously trying (and failing) to desperately regain my composure and finish reading the darn thing. I know, I know, I was silly as hell for this. But. Really. Can you blame me? Can you blame any of us? I mean...”quivers.” This is a funny bit.

…

The best part of this whole situation is, when I tell people that “Oh, yes, I am currently studying Classics. It’s wonderful. We get to learn all about Ancient Greek and Roman civilisations, cultures, politics, philosophies, iconography, and we get to dissect the Homeric and Virgilian Epics book by book”, when normal people hear these words, do they, even for a fleeting moment, suspect that this is the sort of ‘historically-renowned culturally-transcendent ancient literary material’ that we are working with? Have they any idea? Ha. Probably not. But I guess that’s Classical Mythology for ya. Always subverting our expectations. One minute it’s Nostos and grief and angst, then, boom! Old Man Fight.

…

(A.S. Kline’s translation of ‘The Aeneid’ is even worse. And by ‘worse’, I mean An Absolute Riot. I think this man came into contact with ✨Hermes’✨ Very Own Home-Grown Holy Moly, and never recovered.)

My favourite translation of The Odyssey.

“Sing in me, Muse, and through me tell the story of that man skilled in all ways of contending, the wanderer, harried for years on end, after he plundered the stronghold on the proud height of Troy. He saw the townlands and learned the minds of many distant men, and weathered many bitter nights and days in his deep heart at sea, while he fought only to save his life, to bring his shipmates home."

-Robert Fitzgerald

…

I have a bias for whimsical words and convoluted metaphors and poetic prose…

[helliontherapscallion]

Adrenaline Junkie

Part 2     Part 3     Part 4     Part 5     Part 6     Part 7     Part 8     Part 9     Part 10     Part 11     Part 12     Part 13     Part 14     Part 15     Part 16     Part 17

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Ages (oldest to youngest):

Philza- 32

Technoblade- 17 

Wilbur- 17

(Y/N)- 16

Tommy- 14

Pairing: platonic!sbi x winged!sibling!reader

Warnings: near death experiences, mentions of depression, OOC sbi (this is my first time writing about them)

Summary: Philza finds out about your little “habit”

Word count: 1,962

You grinned as you flew through the air with your feathers glinting in the low sunlight. You absolutely loved the feeling of freedom you got whenever you flew. It always gave you a sense of calm when you needed a break from your family. You loved them of course, but you needed a break once and a while; you often felt drained if you didn’t take some time to yourself. The cold air rushed past you as you continued to flap your wings to keep you in the air. 

You could not see the ground below you as you soared higher into the clouds, weaving in and out of them. Flying higher, you steadied yourself to look at the sunset. The mixture of pinks, oranges, and yellows blended together perfectly. You always loved the sunset, it was one of the only consistent things in your life. You wished that you could stay hovering hundreds of feet above the ground, but mobs were going to be spawning soon. The last time you stayed out past sunset you had almost gotten killed by a skeleton. Your dad had given you quite the lecture after he made sure that you were alright. You still had the scars on your arms from when it tried to shoot you out of the air.

You angled yourself so you were upside down, put your arms tight to your sides, and extended your wings fully behind you. You dove closer and closer to the earth, quickly picking up speed. The wind whipped around you as you gained velocity, getting closer and closer to the ground by the millisecond. At the last second, you fully extended your wings and drastically slowed your descent to the ground. The extra velocity you had made you soar up once again before you regained control and landed safely on the ground. The adrenaline that the skydive gave you was the most exhilarating feeling you’ve ever felt, and you were always craving it. Your dad didn’t find it as fun or exhilarating as you did.

“(Y/N) (M/N) MINECRAFT.”

Your father’s voice boomed from behind you. You could tell that he was in a lecturing mood without even having to look at him. He grabbed your arm and spun you around. Grabbing your other arm, he looked you up and down with worried blue eyes. After seeing that you were alright, his gaze hardened and he took a deep breath.

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

He rattled on and on about how you could’ve killed yourself, but quite frankly you didn’t care if you died or got hurt. In your opinion, the adrenaline you got was worth it. You had three lives you could spend, and if you did die, you wanted to go out with a bang all three times. What could you say? You were an adrenaline junkie through and through. 

He started to drag you inside the house mid lecture. Swinging open the door, he pulled you towards the kitchen, where the scent of fresh mushroom stew wafted from the pot on the stove. Your brothers looked at you each with their own different reactions. Techno looked as stoic as ever, Wilbur eyed you with slight disapproval, and Tommy looked at you with awe and excitement. They must’ve seen your little trick through the window. 

“(Y/N) THAT WAS POGGERS! YOU WERE SUCH A BADA-”

Tommy’s excited rant was cut short as he saw the stern look on Philza’s face. After a few moments of hesitation, your brothers were making small talk with each other with Philza occasionally chiming in. Poking idly at your food, you contemplated how you should go about apologizing to your dad. 

You supposed that the best route you could go was telling him that you wouldn’t do that again, but you knew you would do it again. That was the biggest adrenaline rush you’ve ever gotten and you were already craving it again. You couldn’t lie to your dad, your wings always gave you away by twitching uncomfortably whenever you lied. On the other hand, telling him that you felt empty when you didn’t have adrenaline coursing through your veins was not an option. He already has enough to worry about with working to provide for four teenagers. Deciding that your best bet was to lie to him and hope for the best, you zoned back into the conversation around you. Tommy was ranting about how he had broken his favorite sword dueling Techno.

“-do you have any idea how long it took me to find that enchantment, Techno?”

Techno huffed slightly in amusement. “Actually I do because I helped you find that enchantment. We found it in the village together, remember?”

“Tommy,” Philza said tiredly, “we can get you another enchanted sword. Techno, you need to be more gentle with your little brother. You have to remember he’s three years younger than you, so he has less experience in dueling.”

Tommy grumbled to himself, busying himself with shoveling food in his mouth. Wilbur glanced at him with disgust.

“Do you have to eat like that, Tommy? It’s disgusting.”

“Well, Wilbur, it’s not my fault I’m hungry.”

“You’re eating like we don’t feed you.”

You usually enjoyed it whenever your siblings argue back and forth like this, but lately it didn’t make you feel anything. You didn’t feel much anymore if you weren’t pulling off impulsive stunts. Of course, you hid it from your family and acted like you did before. It was relatively easy since you were naturally a quiet person. You thought you were doing a great job at it, you pride yourself on your acting skills.

Dinner went by fast without anything notable happening. Since it was your night to clean up, you got to work after everyone parted ways for the night. You stacked the dishes left on the dinner table and got to work washing them. Luckily, since you lived with three teenage boys, you never had to deal with leftovers. You subconsciously stretched and twitched your wings, feeling restless without feeling the wind moving through your feathers. After you got done with putting the dishes away, you took a deep breath and set out on your search for Philza. 

Walking into the living room, you saw Techno sitting near the fireplace reading one of his mythology books. “Hey, Tech. Do you know where Dad is? I need to talk to him.”

Without looking up from his book, he responded in his usual monotone voice. “Yeah, he’s up in his room. I think he’s going to bed early.” He paused for a second before looking up at you with sincerity. “You know, he was terrified when he saw you earlier. He thought that you weren’t gonna stop yourself in time. Hell, we all thought you were gonna die.”

That made you feel guilty. He already had to deal with providing and raising you four and he didn’t need anything else to worry about. You felt your wings droop slightly as you sighed. 

“...Thanks, T. G’night, love you.”

You started to speed walk to Philza’s room without giving him time to respond. You needed to apologize to him and fast. Out of all your siblings, you were always the one to hate conflict and would always apologize first whenever you got into a disagreement with anyone. You were always the pacifist. 

Walking past Tommy in the hallway, he tried to stop you to talk to you, but you ignored him with a dismissive wave of your wing. You heard him mumbling to himself as he started to walk down the stairs, probably to challenge Techno to a rematch. You nervously fluttered your wings, feathers occasionally brushing against the walls and causing you to shiver slightly at the small touch. Your hands were shaking slightly as you took a steadying deep breath and knocked on Philza’s door. Hearing his tired “come in”, you slowly opened his door. He situated himself so that he was sitting on the edge of his bed and gestured for you to sit next to him.

“Hey, Dad. I-I just wanted to say sorry for worrying you earlier. If I knew that it would stress you out, I wouldn’t have done it.” You sat next to him.

He sighed as he wrapped an arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side. “I don’t care if it stressed me out. You could’ve gotten killed from a fall at that height. You could have lost a life. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t open your wings in time.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then why’d you do it if you knew that you could’ve gotten yourself killed? I just want to understand why you would pull a stunt like that, I’d never expect you out of all of your siblings to do something so dangerous.”

You took a deep breath as you contemplated your next words. You really wanted to tell him about how you felt empty without putting yourself in danger. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t feel like yourself anymore. Unconsciously, your wings started to twitch and pull themselves closer to your body. 

You jumped when you felt something else wrap around you. You looked back and saw black feathers. Looking back up at your father, he looked at you with a concerned expression. 

“Take a deep breath, you’re shaking hun.”

You looked down at your hands and to your surprise, they were shaking. You took a few deep breaths and clasped your hands together tightly while Philza rubbed comforting circles on your back. 

“...It’s just that, I haven’t been feeling like myself lately, if that makes any sense. It’s like I can’t feel anything anymore without doing stupid things that could get me killed. It wasn’t the first time I’ve dived like that. One time I lost control and almost flew into lava-filled ravine.”

“...How long have you felt like this?”

“A few months now.”

Philza felt his heart break, how did he not notice that you were different for months? You could’ve gotten yourself hurt or permanently maimed yourself and it would’ve been his fault because he didn’t notice your mood shift. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”

“It’s not your fault, Dad. I didn’t tell you anything was wrong. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“We can help you find something that’ll help you. Something less dangerous.”

“We?”

“Your brothers and I. They’ve been listening this entire time, weren’t you, boys?”

You heard shuffling and muffled voices arguing with each other before the door opened to reveal your sheepish brothers. Wordlessly, they all filed into the room. Tommy grabbed your shoulders and yanked you into a tight hug. You felt Wilbur hug your other side before he pulled Techno into the group hug also. You felt feathers tickle your cheek as Philza joined, wrapping his giant wings around you all. The family hasn’t had a group hug since you all started to hit your teenage years. For the first time in a while, you felt happy without risking your life.

After that night, you were right in your assumption that you’d be grounded (literally and metaphorically) from flying for a while while your family worked hard to find something safe that gave you a distraction. Soon, Wilbur found a book about the intricacies of redstone working and you were hooked. Sure, your family was rambunctious and a strange group, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

hi!! i recently got into johnlock and the universe has somehow directed me to your blog (which is an absolute godsend omfg). have you got any good possessive!john fics?

Hi Lovely!!!

AHHHH!! I’m so glad you enjoy my blog!!! <3 Thank you so much! <3

AHHH you know what??? I don’t get asked this all that much at all! I think mostly because it’s easier to find Possessive Sherlock fics and people then just... forget LOL

So guess what?? You’re the prompter for any fics I actually tagged or filed with Possessive John! <3 A pioneer you are! LOL I’m combining it with a few of the Obsessive fics as well, since I don’t have many new ones.

As usual, gang, feel free to add your own!! <3

POSSESSIVE / OBSESSIVE JOHN

See also: 

Specifically Jealous John b/c of Other People

Jealous John

Jealous John Pt. 2 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 2

Jealous John Pt 3 and Jealous Sherlock Pt 3

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 4

Jealous John and Sherlock Pt. 5

Hell or High water by bluefire301175 (E, 2,250 w., 1 Ch. || PWP, Frottage, Alley Sex, First Person POV John, Case-ish Fic, Mutual Pining, Bed Sharing) – John wants. Sherlock wants. Plain and simple.

Display by 221b_hound (E, 2,377 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Tattoos, Public Hand Jobs, Exhibitionism, Possessive Sex, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John) – A new client has been flirting with Sherlock and, finding no joy there, with John. John seems annoyed to be second-best, Sherlock thinks, so Sherlock decides to give the departing woman (and maybe also John) a demonstration of who, exactly, John belongs to. But there's more than one level of sexual jealousy and more than one display of possession going on here, outlined in the window of 221b Baker Street. Part 2 of Lock and Key

Apodyopsis by QuinnAnderson (E, 3,347 w.,1 Ch. || PWP, Rough Sex, Table Sex, Anal, Sexual Tension) – Apodyopsis: (æpəʊdaɪˈɒpsɪs) noun. the act of mentally undressing someone. Part 2 of Undressed

Overture by Kate_Lear (M, 4,435 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Friends to Lovers, Angry John, Introspection, Dev. Rel., Embarrassed / Insecure Sherlock, Morning After, Bed Sharing, Cuddles / Limpet Sherlock) – A short snippet on how John and Sherlock might have got together.

Sherlock and John Go Clubbing by wendymarlowe (E, 4,716 w., 3 Ch. || Clubbing, Dirty Talk, Dancing, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Bi John, For a Case, Friends to Lovers, Flirting, Sherlock is Lost for Words, Sexy John, Mutual Pining, Possessive John, Floor Sex/Hand Job/Frottage) – John pinched the bridge of his nose - even for Sherlock, this was a new level of no bloody boundaries. “You want me to go with you to a gay club, wait around twiddling my thumbs while I let you get pawed by a criminal, then out-flirt him and talk you into coming home with me instead?” Part 32 of John and Sherlock's Kinky First Times

Caves in the Mountains Are Seldom Unoccupied by starrysummernights & TheMadKatter13 (E, 7,925 w., 1 Ch. || Were-Creatures ||  Werebear John, Pseudo Bestiality, Rimming, Heavy Dub Con, Rough Sex, Come Inflation / Eating, Size Kink, PWP, Bratty Sherlock, Rutting) – “This isn’t something to play at, Sherlock,” he snapped. “If it doesn’t work out- what you’re asking of me- we can’t shrug and say 'oh well, at least we tried'. If we do this… I could seriously hurt you. Do you understand? I could lose control. I could… I could kill you.”

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres. The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

Of Course I Forgive You by allonsys_girl (E, 10,735 w., 1 Ch. || Love Confessions, Canon Divergence, First Time, Frottage, Wall Sex, Infidelity) – What if things had gone differently on that train car?

The Invocation of Saint Margaret by Ewebie (E, 15,831 w., 1 Ch. || POV John,  Crossing Timelines, Light Angst, Fluff, Series 3 John / Series 1 Sherlock, The Matchbox, Mushy Romance, First Time, Bisexual John, Pining John, Bottomlock, Love Confessions, Sensuality, Emotional Love Making, Snippets of Time) – When Sherlock Holmes opens the matchbox from The Sign of Three and John finds himself years in the past, back to that first dinner at Angelo's with a much younger Sherlock Holmes. Is he dreaming?

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Inscrutable to the Last by DiscordantWords (M, 48,842 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, Alternate S3, John’s Blog/S3 is a Story By John, Divorce, Marital Difficulties, John is a Mess, Emotional Reunion, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Grief / Mourning, Pining John, First Kiss, Adorably Clueless Sherlock, Nostalgia, Love Confessions, Eventual Happy Ending, Obsessive John) – He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't work miracles. All he'd ever been able to do was write about them.

The Hollow Woman by ScopesMonkey (M, 51,335 w., 22 Ch. || Post-TRF, Major Character Death, Mystery, Romance, Friendship, Family, Angst, Crime, Reunion, First Kiss / Time, Nightmares, Doctor John, Jealous Sherlock, Jealous John, BAMF John, Angry John, Dub-Con, Rough Sex, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Villain Mary, Open Ending) – Forced to return to London sooner than expected, Sherlock falls into a case too close to home. Part 1 of the Hollowverse series

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time, Obsessive John) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

The Bells of King's College by SilentAuror (E, 64,019 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Missed Opportunities, Angst with Happy Ending, Fake Relationship, Case Fic, John POV, Jealous John, John in Denial, Travelling / Holidays, Virgin Sherlock, Wedding Proposals) – It's only been two weeks since Eurus Holmes disrupted their lives when Mycroft sends John and Sherlock to Cambridge to pose as an engaged couple at a wedding show in the hopes of solving six unsolved deaths...

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

Free Falling by twistedthicket1 (M, 203,574 w., 38 Ch. || Guardian Angels AU || Guardian Angel John, Fluff and Angst, Humour, Kidlock / Teenlock, Light Mystrade, Passage of Time, Possessive John, Drug Use / Overdose, Victor Trevor, Graphic Bullying, Big Brother Mycroft, Hard Drug Use, Depression, Possessive Sherlock, Possessive John, Panic Attacks, Nightmares/PTSD, Pining, Healing Abilities, Kidnapping, Violence, Torture, Blow Jobs, Virgin John, Emotional Development / Attachment, Mortality, Happy Ending) – All Guardian angels are born with a Chosen human. When this child is born, the angel comes into being to protect and care for them during their life on Earth. For John Watson, all he cares about in the world revolves around his Chosen, Sherlock Holmes. Watching him grow up though, the angel soon learns that God must have had a sense of humour the day he decided to make Sherlock, as trouble seems to follow him like a magnet wherever he goes. John can't decide what's worse, the idea of losing his Chosen one, or the fact that he may be breaking the most taboo law of heaven as he disguises himself as a human to better protect and befriend the beloved detective he's always watched from afar. He was meant to care for him. But what happens when caring evolves into something more? What happens when an emotion an angel is supposed to be incapable of possessing comes to life suddenly and viciously inside John's chest?

[tyrantisterror]

The ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3-D: Entry Roundup

You’ve been patiently waiting for the results of the ATOM Create a Kaiju Contest 3-D, and now... you have to wait a bit longer, but at least you’ve got an entry roundup with lots of sketches and a good bit of feedback for all the entrants!  My goal is to get the finalists illustrated in a week or two, and after that, the grand prize winner will be announced.  But, for now, the official entry roundup!  After the cut:

I should note that while I sketched these in the order they were submitted, my scanner saved the documents with random names, so they’re a bit jumbled.  You know, just in case you’re like me and would get confused noticing that it’s almost in chronological order but with some entries jumbled around.

@bugcthulhu’s Obsideban was designed as a counterpart to Rohobaron - the Black King to Rohobaron’s Red King, if you will.  Or, well, Black Queen in this case, as Obsideban also takes her personality from the “delinquent girl” archetype in Japanese media.  Bug’s designs always ooze personality, and I had a lot of fun translating this big, gnarly retrosaur into my own style.

@toothlessloveshiccup‘s Argonox is the first - but far from the last - monster in this breakdown that brings in a bit of fantasy influence to ATOM’s roster.  A golden-fleeced ram with a vicious streak, this sheep is both treasure and dragon at once.  And while it wasn’t written in the monster’s profile, given the Yamaneon-rich nature of its wool, Argonox might be able to replicate the healing power of the golden fleece too!  A very fun mammalian kaiju and excellent entry.

@highly-radioactive-nerd submitted Gunmetal Jeeves, a robot butler who can gigantomax temporarily create a holographic/hard light version of himself to fight kaiju.  That detail was a late revision added to the entry before the contest’s deadline, made after the creator realized that ATOM allows for some truly ludicrous bullshit, which is something everyone should exploit when making entries for this in my opinion.  Also, this is a robot butler who can size shift.  Revel in its awesome absurdity!

Ultranerd submitted Rajasaurus, a dimetrodon-like synapsid kaiju with electric powers.  His origin specifies that the electric powers are a result of the volatile nature of the Yamaneon deposits he mutated under, which is an interesting idea.  That’s another theme that cropped up a lot in this contest’s entries, actually - people really wanted to play with what Yamaneon can do.

Case in point, @polygonfighter’s Yamaneolith takes the Monolith Monsters homage at the heart of Yamaneon even more apparent.  I like the implication that there is a second mineral-based lifeform at the root of this Yamaneon cluster’s anomalous behavior - a parasite, perhaps?  It brings up some interesting possibilities.

@ariccio50 submitted Kukulkuzana, and damn is this a cool spin on the body plan of my martians.  I made a few changes here and there (splitting its tail into two is probably the biggest one), but tried to keep true to the original design, because holy hell is it gorgeous.  The idea that this is a mountain-dwelling creature is really intriguing to me, as it looks like a sea creature, but at the same time, that flexible and low-slung build WOULD work pretty well in mountains, and it’s just the right mix of plausible weirdness that makes for a fun alien design.

@akitymh submitted Aramzados, a Venusian monster that’s basically an organic hot rod car.  I like the idea of organic machinery being the gimmick for Venusian kaiju, and Aramzado’s does it subtly enough to not feel like that gimmick is the sole thing going for it.  I especially love this monster’s stange, apparently mouth-less blade-beaked face.

@virovac submitted Rurzar and Zar Rider, a Beyonder kaiju and mecha (respecitvely) that were both modified and repurposed by humans reverse engineering Beyonder technology to make, like, a motorcycle-saurus essentially.  It is a delightfully absurd concept, and a very, very detailed one (13 pages of description).  There’s a dark undercurrent beneath the sillyness, though, as this pair show that humanity might still be following the same path as the Beyonders before them.

@dinosaurana brings us Krangor, a humanoid monstrosity of living kelp!  The goal here was to create a Jack Kirby-esque monster dude, complete with the gibberish name and all.  He’s also made out of kelp, which feels very classic 1950′s monster-y despite me not being able to think of any monsters that were explicitly made of kelp.  I love him.

@kiryuthechimera submitted Genkakurah, a psychic retrosaur with some draconic features.  Though his substantial powerset is probably the biggest distinguishing feature of this kaiju (given that most ATOM kaiju pretty much have the same standard powers), what really draws me to him is that reptilian pseudo-beard.  It’s just a fun detail!

@glarnboudin submits Tiratola, and see, there’s that fantasy influence again!�� Even more explicitly dragon-y than Kraydi, Tiratola still manages to toe the line between sci-fi and fantasy enough to fit ATOM as is while still cementing its ties to my own slice of fantasy fiction.  Man it’s good I’m doing a Midgaheim book next, huh?

@dragonzzilla submitted Scuttlebutt/Argonautilus, a hermit crab kaiju who lives in/with a hollowed out mecha.  That’s a twist I can’t recall ever hearing before, and the idea of a kaiju and a mecha having an equal partnership that doesn’t involve one being grafted to the other is really intriguing to me.  A very unique concept!

@evolutionsvoid submitted Fleagor, an enormous flea who has no idea what to do with itself now that there’s no creature large enough for it to parasitize.  I love that concept - it takes the core idea of the giant bug kaiju archetype (i.e. unsettling the audience by showing how terrifying small, “insignificant” creatures would be if our sizes were reversed) and really turns it on its head.  The name also plays on the Universal Monsters, who were a huge part of 1950′s pop culture thanks to their movies being re-released in that era, so all and all this one is very on brand for ATOM!

@skarmorysilver submitted Lilacorn, another entry that plays up that Midgaheim/ATOM connection.  Reinterpreting the mythological unicorn as an Cenozoic wooly rhinoceros-inspired monster gives it a very unique look, both in ATOM and in the general world of unicorns, and she has a bad-girl with a heart of gold personality to boot!

dracosaurus-rex submitted Florasaura, a two-headed plant/retrosaur hybrid monster.  I love me some plant monsters, I love me some retrosaurs, and I love me some rhyming the word “flora” with other words that contain similar vowell sounds, so this one has me written all over it!

@downtofragglerock submitted Sauroguana, a delightfully odd flying retrosaur.  There’s a great deal of charm to the original illustration that this sketch doesn’t quite capture - it’s a deceptively simple design with a lot of personality in it, and with those unique leg-wings it really doesn’t need a whole lot of frills to stand out.

Draxi submitted Brakan, an unimpressive burrowing retrosaur kaiju whose mastery of illusions allows it to convince other kaiju it’s actually a big, super-powerful badass that’s the ultimate fighter in the universe.  It’s a delightful parody of the concept of a fan self-insert god-mode character, with a really fun story built into it to boot!

@quinnred submitted O.N.I.A.C., a mysterious cocooned kaiju whose chrysalis has been turned into an organic computer of sorts by the people studying it, and seems to possess a fairly advanced intelligence for a kaiju.  It’s a really bizarre and ominous idea, with built in intrigue given how vague its nature is.  Is it just a kaijufied butterfly/moth who got stuck mid transformation?  A relative of the Mothmanuds?  Something else, perhaps equally alien?  Good story potential here.

shadyserpent submitted Vespilitor, a bat/retrosaur hybrid made by the nefarious Spooks Organization.  A mercurial prankster whose tendency to stir up trouble never crosses the line into maliciousness, he’s the kind of monster who would make a great foil to a lot of ATOM’s cast.  I’d especially like to see him in a prank off with Ahuul - it’d be like Bugs Bunny fighting Daffy Duck, but on a kaiju scale.

@multiversefan submitted the Yamaneon King, a nomadic kaiju whose refusal to settle down causes problems as he stirs up trouble at kaiju sanctuaries all over the globe by showing up unannounced and stirring up the locals.  He was basically designed to be a monster that the kaiju sanctuary initiative would struggle to deal with, which is a good idea for a post-ATOM Volume 2 story conflict.

Sir K submitted Jadeera, a kirin kaiju that can actually forcibly convert most of its body to Yamaneon to enter a dormant, statue-like state in a loose homage to King Shisa.  Though the fantasy elements are far more present than I usually prefer for ATOM kaiju, I think it should be noted they’re pushed that far for a purpose - a theme in Jadeera’s entry, which continues where its creator left off with their submission to the previous ATOM create a kaiju contest (Yokaigon), is that the world of kaiju is more complicated and challenging than many are willing to accept, which is a theme in ATOM itself.  Yokaigon’s more supernatural/occult powers are based on the ghost parascience of my setting, which ATOM has delved into a bit (Pathogen being the big example), so it’s not as out of left field as some might think.

@cerothenull​ brings us our final entry (unless some got lost thanks to tumblr’s shitty tagging system), the flying spider Naeranti.  She’s a kaiju spider who uses silk to make complicate hot-air balloons, more or less, and that’s just delightful.  ATOM could always use more spider-monsters, and with a really unique gimmick backing up a wonderfully distinct look, Naeranti is sure to stand out among her fellow giant arachnids.

Well, that’s the roundup!  In a week (or two, depending on how much my hand cramps) we’ll have the five finalists, and sometime after that, the grand prize winner!

[lovee-infected]

Hello Geo-san, just read your post on Malleus's birthday. It says that his only relative is his grandmother and she still rules the Valley of Thorns. There are theories that his grandmother is none other than Maleficent herself. If that's the case, there are two options here, either she survived her encounter with Prince Phillip or the TW timeline is following the 2014 film. Where she's still alive and ruling the Moors, maybe renamed as the Valley, alongside with Aurora. We'll just wait and see.

I've actually been thinking about this myself, that was much of a shoking reveal!

Aside from revealing the fact that Malleus's parents are dead, this somehow dropped a bomb on "Maleficent being Malleus's grandmother theory"

The main discussion going over the fandom regarding the topic is whether his grandmother is Maleficent or not, which is a really important question!

As someone who strongly supported this theory before this reveal, I can't say I wouldn't be disappointed if Maleficent isn't actually his grandmother, but on the other hand, the possibility of her being Maleficent and still alive would face some strong contradictions in the story:

First off, let's flash back to where this theory begun in the first place:

In Malleus's personal chats, we can find Sebek complimenting Malleus's performance after the classes, telling him that he'd even surpass the witch of thorns herself one day!

Malleus immediately objects to it, saying his powers barely come close to his grandmother's.

Well, to think that they were actually talking about Maleficent but all of a sudden Malleus mentioned his grandmother instead, left us qith a great possibility of him being Maleficent's grandson, to the point that many, including me, considered this theory as canon! But now I highly doubt this theory, even though I wanted it to be confirmed true so much. But since we have more information to seriously discuss the matter right now, here are my thoughts whether this theory is still acceptable or not, which is mainly explaining what would happen if they're actually using the 2014 and 2019 live action movies as a reference:

1) Maleficent being alive would totally WRECK Silver's character development and design!

Come to think of it, there would be no Silver if Maleficent is still alive! Silver's twisted logo is the sword, and the one and only famous sword in the sleeping beauty classic AND the live action movie is the one which slayed Maleficent.

So... If Maleficent's still alive -> There hasn't ever been a sword which slayed her -> Silver doesn't have any special or specific symbol/ character which he is twisted from!

While his name might have something to do with the live action version, where they strongly used Silver to defeat Maleficent, it can also be referring to the fact that dark fairies would immediately be wounded if touched with Silver, which is most likely because of Yana's studies in the fae mythology field (Like how she chose ice cream as Malleus's favorite food since fairies love cream) which isn't necessarily bound to the live action version. But since the sword is Silver's most important role in the game, we can't really stick with the live action version because not only didn't we have any special swords in the live action version, but there also would be a big confusion if there hasn't ever been a sword which slayed Maleficent and Silver is twisted from!

In summary, I'd be honest and say this out loud: Maleficent HAS TO be dead because we need the Silver sword to exist somewhere in the story!!!

2) History of 'Classic Maleficent' vs 'Live action Maleficent'

one of the main points which needs to be considered in this matter, is how different Classic Maleficent and Live action Maleficent are. Maleficent is the very first Disney live action to present a totally different face of a well-known Disney villain such as Maleficent, which also led to a considerable growth in both "Maleficent" and the classic version of "sleeping beauty"'s popularity at the same time! But while 2014's Maleficent was an absolutely amazing movie (to at least) and nearly turned Maleficent into the most beloved villain of Disney's history, the live action (especially the 2019 version) received some strict critiques regarding how they pictured Maleficent: Many of the fans were familiar and attached to the original Maleficent, the mistress of all evil who had control over the powers of hell itself. A REAL villain and an absolutely perfect one. But the live action Maleficent wasn't meant to be a villain, the live action narrated a totally different story from what the classic was.

Though it didn't really lessen the movie's popularity, there were fans who begun to dislike this version of Maleficent after the 2019 version and their reason for disliking the movie actually made sense, the live action went TOO FAR with creating a second Maleficent, almost to the point of not being anything similar to the original, that strong villainous sense they were expecting to see in Maleficent had disappeared.

Now let's talk about twst, what is twst about? Villains. It's basically the world of villains. We need that evil, menacing and demonic sense of villains to be brought back to life through this twisted vessels, as it's confirmed that this school's students have villainous souls. From the Heartslabyul chapter till now, the Pomefiore chapter, his is all we've dealt with: Absolute villains. Each chapter is about a dorm leader (expect for Kalim) discovering and revealing their villainous spirits, which leads to an overblot. They want them to see just as evil and reckless as the original villains, which is why they put them into a mode such as overblot, where they're controlled by a puppet in the shape of one of the great seven.

Is such a story, where they need to make each of the main characters be as evil as possible, choosing live action Maleficent (who is a half villain, half hero character) not only is debatable but ia also a big contract to the previous chapters as they all followed the original villains' stories!

I guess we can all agree that Diasomnia's quite special compared to the rest of the dorms, but going as far as using a different source in character development and plot design compared to the rest of the characters and dorms seems to be a bit too much- I don't think Diasomnia's design and development is planned to be THAT different.

3) Key points about fhat has been officially mentioned in twst

Personal chats are VERY important to go through while doing a character analysis, they're such a wealthy and perfect source of information regarding each and every of the characters!

As for Diasomnia, each and every of the members mentioned something about the witch of thorns and her background, which directly leads us to how and who is the twst's Maleficent:

Lilia: Explains how Maleficent's Chronicles spent 16 years looking for a baby in a cradle -> This only happened in the classic! Live action Maleficent never sent any of her minions to look after aurora as she never had any!

Silver: Explains how the King of a well-known kingdom forgot to invite Maleficent and offended her with this, he wonders what kind of King would ever do such a disrespectful thing? -> Original Maleficent was offended and mad just because she wasn't invited, while the Live action Maleficent was betrayed by the King Stephan, Aurora's father who intentionally refused to invite Maleficent. Keep this in mind that Silver said forgetting to invite her, which is exactly what happened in the classic and King and Queen seriously forgot to invite Maleficent, not to intentionally avoid and decide to keep her away from baby Aurora like what happened in the live action.

Malleus: In his chats with Lilia, he mentions how The witch of thorns once invited the prince of as enemy Kingdom into her own castle -> This is again, something which only happened in the classic, referring to the scene where Maleficent captured prince Philip and imprisoned him inside her castle. Live action Maleficent didn't even have a castle to begin with, note that all she did was to take Phillip to Stephan's castle to give Aurora a chance to live.

Malleus: He explains how The Witch of thorns could turn into a dragon -> Live action Maleficent never turned into a dragon, she just once turned her crow, diaval, into a dragon (2014 ver.) and turned into a phoenix (2019 ver.). The only Maleficent which could and did transform into a dragon is the one we know from the sleeping beauty classic.

Hitting with the lighting: This is something Malleus is capable of doing, he both did this to Sebek back in the manga anthology and threatened Rook with it -> Again, this is something which the original Maleficent and herself only could do.

There are quite a few of other orginal Maleficent references you can find if you carefully go through the story and voice lines, but I'm not going to mention each and every of them because I believe I've already discussed this enough. Note that while there are tens of original Maleficent references in the story, there hasn't been anything mentioned about the live action Malleus so far expect for fan content and stuff.

Obviously, they're using Original Maleficent as the main reference. The question is whether they're using the live action too as a reference or not.

4) A summary + Existing debates

Aside from all of the current theories and headcanons, I guess this is all we can tell about the canon information revealed so far. But before we end, I'd like to add a few of small notes:

Lilia has never referred to the Witch of thorns as Queen of thorns, it's not quite specific to tell but it seems like Queen of thorns and Witch of thorns are indeed to different people.

But then again, why does Malleus bring his grandmother up in the middle of a discussion about Witch of thorns? Could it be that he just used her mother as an example since her too, is a very powerful magician but not exactly the witch of thorns herself, or...??

There hasn't been any information revealed regarding the great seven's current position in twisted wonderland's history, how long ago has their stories taken place? Could it be that some of them are still alive? Did their stories end just the same as orginal stories or did they decide to twist the endings as well?

The main reason why I think Maleficent cannot be alive now is not becuase she died in the original story, it's becuase of Silver, which has already been explained in part (1)!

At last, I'd like to add a final note to this piece: Even if the "Grandmother Maleficent" theory turns out to be wrong, many of the fans are already enjoying the eixisting fanon twst content which are using the live action as a reference! The most popular reference is probably with Malleus's back, where many artists decide to add two wounds on as a reference to what happened to Maleficent's wings in the live action. This is personally one of my FAVORITES and I just love it when artists draw the wounds, though the possibility of Malleus actually having wings is pretty low! We can almost call it impossible lol. The thing is, from how the story has gone so far we can assume that they aren't going to use the live action at all, but if they do, that'll be quite amazing and interesting to discuss!!

[rocorambles]

Finding Home

Pairing: Terushima x Reader

Prompt: Mythology

Genre: SFW, Fluff, Slight Angst, Greek Mythology AU, Dionysus!Terushima, Human!Reader

Summary: Terushima has never liked winter, the land too barren to produce his prized grapes, the weather too harsh for the merrymaking he’s known for. But maybe, just maybe, a certain mortal can help change his perspective.   

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s SFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Friday, March 12th!) 

Terushima has never really belonged here and even after centuries and lifetimes, he doesn’t feel any more a part of Olympus than when he first joined the ranks of the gods and goddesses above as Dionysus, protector of misfits. 

He scoffs at the title. How fitting when he himself is a misfit among the beings of Olympus, the son of a mortal mother, a “human-lover” (a title he’s actually quite fond of despite the disdain and judgement tainting it when spoken by those around him). Ironic when he dares say most of his fellow divine beings have had more than their fair shares of “loving humans”. It’s how he was created himself after all and he scowls at the thought of the handsome brunette who he unfortunately is forced to call father. 

One would think that with all the affairs Zeus, or Shittykawa as he prefers to refer to him as, nickname courtesy of Poseidon, is off and about having, the king of the gods wouldn’t be so stringent and watchful over his kingdom above. But as free with his affection as he is, Oikawa is a stickler for tradition and Terushima sighs as he enters the gates of Olympus, plastering his trademark cocky grin on his face as he greets his family. 

It’s ironic really how Oikawa insists on these family reunions considering how they hardly really consider each other family. But no one dares to disobey and they all force themselves through the polite small talk, extravagant meals, and elegant parties, everything so detailed and beautiful yet cold, much like their organizer, and Terushima skin practically crawls at how different this is from his much more impassioned festivities, never used to how restrained the manners of Olympus are despite how many of these he has attended. 

But it’s not all so terrible and this time he doesn’t fake his wide toothy grin when two beings burst into his quarters late at night. 

He’s not foolish enough to believe Apollo and Ares are the strapping gods they’re portrayed to be, knowing too well just how monstrous and terrifying the two can be, knowing the atrocious acts they’ve committed. But as brothers? As fellow gods? They make Olympus bearable and that’s more than can be said for anyone else. So he sets aside their differences temporarily, humming along to the sound of Apollo’s music, laughingly joking that his talent for songs is the only reason women and goddesses look past the rooster-like mess on top of his head. He drinks goblet after goblet of mead with Ares in an attempt to see who can outdrink the other this time around, not stopping until his vision is so blurred that he can hardly tell if it really is Ares in front of him or a large owl with vaguely human features. 

But as soon as sunlight begins filtering in marking a new day and the end of his forced return, he’s quick to bid farewell, nose diving back down to Earth and immediately feeling more at peace as he lands in a flourishing rice field, slowly making his way to the quaint home just ahead. 

It’s an admittedly strange camaraderie, the friendship between the God of Chaos and a demi-god son of Demeter, but Terushima’s heart swells with fondness when he sees Kita sifting through the grains of his latest harvest, chuckling at the slightly quirked lips on the other’s usually impassive face when he sees the blonde making his way towards him. 

He knows the other Olympus immortals find it strange how he prefers to spend most of his time on Earth, whispering and spreading rumors about the strange god who so easily casts aside the splendor of Olympus for the humble life and home of a farmer, who prefers to idle his days away with humans and a demi-god rather than his own much more powerful and esteemed family up above. And he knows even Kita has his doubts and disagreements with the wild debauchery and havoc he wreaks upon the mortal world, preferring his mother’s more wholesome ways of providing and caring for humans. 

But both of them are tied by their kindness and benevolence towards mankind, frowning upon the hostility, cruelty, and selfishness the other gods and goddesses subject humans to. And Kita never says a word against Terushima, knowing that even if they aren’t methods he understands or condones, Terushima’s rituals and revelries bring joy, provide an escape, take away the suffering of mortals, even if only temporarily.    

Besides, the demi-god is far too busy with helping Demeter prepare for the harvest to really pay much mind to Terushima’s antics, flitting here and there as he helps ensure the earth is fertile, making sure grains and seeds are plentiful, working seamlessly alongside Terushima as the god of wine cheerfully goes about making sure there’s more than an adequate amount of ripe grapes and fruits for wine making and merriment. 

As far as Terushima is concerned, Olympus can keep its cold splendor. Here is where he was meant to be, thriving in the heat and brilliant light of the sun, sighing in content as he pops grape after grape in his mouth, the sweet juices coating his mouth as he watches the humans in amusement as they excitedly crush the small fruits, making the beverage he had shown their ancestors long ago how to create.

And then the harvest is officially upon them and Terushima joyfully cheers as his followers indulge in the delicious nectar of their hard work, wine sloshing from cups as music blares, the earth resounding with raucous ecstatic celebrations and the stomping of feet as mankind wildly dances and jumps around. 

It’s a wild frenzy and Kita slightly winces at the chaos that has overtaken the world, but it’s hard not to look on in affection and amusement as the humans and his dear friend enjoy themselves, finding temporary freedom and escape from the restraints of society. So he lets them be, spending time with his mother as she also enjoys the festivities of her followers (albeit much more demure), glad to see both Terushima and her in high spirits, knowing the hardest part of the year for both of them is just around the corner. 

A practical person might scoff at Demeter’s extreme reaction every time Hades comes to retrieve her daughter, but there’s nothing rational about a mother’s love and the world turns dead and cold as the goddess grieves and mourns the loss of her daughter, even though she knows it’s only temporary. 

Terushima sighs at the cold white snow and ice that blankets the barren grounds, feeling his own vitality drain from him when the majority of the revelries come to an end as the humans prepare for the harsh winter months ahead. He hates the mortal world when it’s like this, finding the cold quiet far too similar to Olympus and he sulks, retreating and staying put inside his shared abode with Kita, impatiently waiting for Persephone to return to her mother so that the world can defrost and resume. 

Kita is patient at first, alternating between checking in on his mother and Terushima, ensuring both great gods of the Earth are alive and well. Although “well” is a relative term and the demi-god sighs at how both their depression and grief permeate throughout the world, adding an icier edge to the already brutal atmosphere. However even his patience has a limit and though he doesn’t dare disrespect his mother, he shoves at least the god of the vine out the door, shooing him towards the nearest town and telling him not to return until he’s in a better mood. 

The blonde listens, albeit reluctantly and with a few muttered grumblings, but it’s a nice distraction, wandering around and masquerading as a human. And although he’s not in the mood to join in, he appreciates how advanced civilizations and technology have become, allowing those brave enough to face the harsh frigid weather to frolic at bars, even if it means being bundled in layers and layers of winter clothing. It isn’t anything near as rambunctious and lively as the harvest season, but he feels his mood lighten as the streets are roused by drunken and rowdy crowds, laughter and cheer filling the cold air. 

Feeling more himself after a few hours of amusedly observing from afar, a steaming mug of mulled wine in his hands, he begins to turn around and make his way back home only to be interrupted as someone crashes into him and instincts have him catching you as you tipsily stumble and giggle in his arms. He can smell the sweet scent of wine rolling off of you in waves and he fights back the urge to laugh as you sloppily smile, clinging onto him for dear life as you try and steady yourself on wobbly legs while you simultaneously thank your hero for saving you. 

Humans really are the most adorable things sometimes.

He’s a bit apprehensive about just leaving you when you’re in such a state, but he relaxes when your friends rush to your aid, profusely apologizing to him as he carefully hands you over to them and he just waves them off, telling them to have fun as he makes to walk away again. But he’s stopped by your hands still holding tight to him. 

“Come party with us!” 

This time he does laugh as one of your friends angrily admonishes you for your behavior and he gently tries to loosen your grip on him, telling you empty promises of “maybe next time”. But he freezes when one of your hands he’s managed to unhook from him softly rests on his cheek and he chokes at the genuine concern in your eyes despite the drunken haze in them. 

“You look so sad...Please stay? Maybe it’ll make you feel better.” 

The words are childish and slurred, yet Terushima is moved by the pure intentions he can sense in the syllables, drawn in by the heart and love he can feel pouring from you. All his life he has cared for others, cared for the world. But when was the last time someone had cared for him? When was the last time he had allowed someone to care for him? 

So in a moment of weakness he allows himself to let go of his responsibilities, his duties, his own walls and rules he had created to maintain a distance from the mortals he oversees in an effort to avoid dragging them into the messes caused by diving beings, to make sure no one else is subjected to what his own mortal mother suffered through because of Oikawa’s selfish desires. 

It’s ironic how little a god known as the liberator allows himself to be free, usually preferring to watch from afar and not partake in the frenzied chaos of his followers. But tonight he joins in, entangling himself among the throngs of bodies moving to the vibrating pulses of echoing music and beats, submitting to the wild energy around him, pretending just for a moment that he’s finally found where he belongs. 

You make it easy for him to believe he’s found a new home, a place he’s accepted, and even amidst the blinding lights and smoky haze, you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever met, your liveliness, energy, and humanity far outshining any of the gods or goddesses he knows. There’s nothing reserved or distant about you, no feeling of someone keeping up pretences or a front. You’re just...you and he knows even without the help of liquid courage you’ve generously doused yourself with tonight, that you wouldn’t be all that different. 

Maybe a little less handsy and definitely quieter (he subtly winces when you practically shout in his ear asking if he wants another drink). But the genuine warmth and kindness he can feel radiating from you? Your easy and uninhibited acceptance of him? That’s just who you are and he allows himself to find temporary comfort in this new sense of belonging you make him feel.  

Despite how he’s sworn to never rope a human into the twisted world of immortals, for the first time in his life, he feels the temptation to break the promise he had made to himself all those centuries ago. 

But it’s a pipe dream and as dawn’s light begins to peek through the night sky and clubs and bars close shop, reality comes crashing down on him. He remains steadfast in his beliefs, promising himself that he’ll leave and forget all about you as soon as he’s made sure you’re safely tucked in bed despite the desperate pleas and cries of his heart. And he grits his teeth as he fights to ignore his desires. 

He’s stronger than this. He’s better than this. Above the immoral lust his family is infamous for. Above the preying ways of Oikawa. 

Or so he’d like to believe. 

But he can’t help himself from sitting at your bedside, gazing down at your peaceful face, finding comfort in your deep even breaths as sleep overcomes you, telling himself that he’ll be just another minute, over and over again, until he’s forced to his feet hours later as you begin to rise. And as he makes his escape before you can awaken and see him, he knows that he’ll never be able to fully forget you.

Sometimes Kita is far too observant for his own good and Terushima groans when he’s immediately pinned down by curious knowing eyes as soon as he walks through the front doors. But he’s never been good at keeping his thoughts to himself and he rambles, spilling every little detail (probably too many details) to the demi-god who patiently listens and brews a pot of soothing hot tea that Terushima greedily grabs and indulges in as he recounts the night. 

Kita holds his own cup to his lips, hiding the smile playing on his face as the god talks about you, sharp eyes noting the unusual softness in Terushima’s eyes and quietness of his voice as he speaks about you, describing you so perfectly Kita can almost imagine exactly what you look like from his words alone.

But his smile turns into a thoughtful flat line at the sadness in the usually exuberant voice as the blonde tries to lightly wave it off and convince himself that it’s all in the past now, just another mortal he’s happened to interact with in his long life before breaking off into an awkward silence. 

“Terushima, not all relationships between gods and mortals are doomed and cursed.” 

Kita rolls his eyes as the other begins to squawk and flail his arms as he recounts some of the most tragic relationships in Olympus history to prove him wrong, quickly cutting him off after another languid sip of his hot beverage. 

“So do you think the union between my parents was also a mistake?” 

The demi-god smirks as Terushima squirms in his seat, floundering for words, weakly clarifying that he meant the majority, not all. 

“Exactly. Not all relationships between gods and mortals are destined for failure and we all know you’re certainly not like most gods. So if anyone were to beat those odds, I’d say it would have to be you.” 

Kita Shinsuke does not mince words. He does not care to flatter even the most supreme beings with unwarranted and undeserved pleasantries. He only calmly speaks his truth. So despite how casually the words are thrown, as if the demi-god was just mentioning the weather or how his day was, Terushima gapes at his long-time friend, letting the true weight of their meaning sink in. 

Not like most gods. 

Terushima has been called an outsider by both gods and humans alike his entire life, but for once, the title feels like something to be proud of, to hold his head up high and triumphantly proclaim, and he blinks back the tears threatening to slip from the corner of his eyes as he shakily returns the warm smile on Kita’s face, choking out a laugh between his sniffles at the demi-god’s next words.

“You’re not your father, Terushima. Don’t let Zeus- What does Poseidon call him these days? Ah yes, don’t give Shittykawa the satisfaction of ruining your chance at love and happiness.” 

It’s startling, absurd really, to hear the foul nickname from Kita’s usually polite and mannerly mouth, but it drives home his point that much more and almond eyes glint with steely resolve. 

If Kita notices how Terushima rarely spends the night in their shared home anymore despite how he’d practically hibernated in his room during past winters, he doesn’t say anything.

If he notices how much more energetic and boisterous the god is despite the barren lands and frigid weather that would normally have dampened his spirits, he doesn’t comment on it. 

And if he just happens to accidentally meander around town and see a familiar blonde figure whose hand is interlaced with a mortal woman’s hand, he chalks it up to pure coincidence and certainly not because his curiosity had gotten the better of him. 

Kita Shinsuke is not nosy, even if the pictures he secretly takes of the couple and proudly develops, frames, and gifts to the god of wine during the holidays that year say otherwise.

It’s Terushima’s favorite and only gift he’s ever received during the human holiday season (although that quickly changes after he makes things official with you) and the first thing he hangs up on the walls of your shared bedroom years down the line when you move in together. 

And as he holds you in his arms and fondly smiles at the photos on the wall, reminiscing on the beginning of this joint journey with you, he thinks that winters aren’t so bad after all, affectionately kissing the top of your head as you snuggle and squirm closer to his body heat, slightly jostled by him adjusting and retucking both of you back in your warm and cozy blanket cocoon protecting you from the chilly air.  

He waits for you to settle back into a restful slumber before letting his own eyes drift shut once again, melting into the bedsheets and embrace of a place and person he can finally call home. 

[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 (ανθόνερο). 

(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??

[usergreenpixel]

Frev prompts, Part 4! 🎉

21. The protagonist is a high school student with a knack for drawing comics but they’re also the favorite target of the bullies at school.

One day the bullying gets so bad that the protagonist is unable to cope with reality anymore and, as a means of escapism, writes themselves into their new comic about their favorite topic - The French Revolution. With their favorite pen they had inherited from their writer grandfather, no less.

However, what was supposed to be a harmless little self-insert quickly becomes a reality when the protagonist is magically transported into their comic book and now has to navigate their own story and finish it in order to return to the real world, as well as figure out the mysterious powers of the magical pen.

22. Despite the fact that the days when the Bastille used to be packed with prisoners are gone, a handful were still trapped inside its gloomy walls by the time the infamous prison was taken.

The protagonist is one of the few prisoners who are sentenced to imprisonment inside the Bastille until they and the rest of the prisoners are set free by the revolutionaries.

For the first time in a long while, the protagonist is free but not all is sunshine and butterflies because the revolution is only beginning to escalate and the protagonist has long forgotten how to function in the society outside the prison.

With no other options, the protagonist decides to try and rebuild their life from square one, all while the events of the revolution are unfolding in the city of Paris.

23. Two friends, the protagonists, were raised together by a noble family as adopted wards and used to be close as children, but drifted apart when one of the two went abroad to get a good education.

Nevertheless, the childhood friends find themselves reunited by a pure coincidence during a meeting in the Jacobin Club, which both of them joined mere days ago.

All seems well, until it becomes apparent that the protagonists don’t exactly see eye to eye when it comes to politics in France nor the methods of solving the multiple issues plaguing the country.

This new rift between the protagonists only widens as the revolution progresses and the Jacobin Club gets split into groups on the basis of shared political beliefs.

Will the two protagonists be able to restore the friendship they used to have or will their new differences prove that maybe friendship isn’t always as almighty as people say?

24. The protagonist is acutely aware of the multiple injustices of the French society but they are not too eager to change things personally, hoping that maybe the government will find a way to fix things.

The protagonist, meanwhile, would rather focus on keeping their small family business (a bookshop) afloat and renting out an apartment in the house to make ends meet.

Soon, however, the protagonist ends up getting roped into the events of the revolution regardless when they accidentally overhear their new tenant discuss his plans in a hushed tone with a few other people.

The protagonist has all the evidence that they had unwittingly rented out an apartment to a revolutionary and now they have the evidence to turn that rebellious youth from Blérancourt in along with his buddies.

At first, the best course of action seems fairly obvious. Just report them to the authorities and be done with it.

However, perhaps these youths are more than just stupid kids playing at freedom fighting and maybe they can actually help the country.

When faced with the dilemma of either ratting the young rebels out or joining their cause, the protagonist makes a choice that ends up changing their entire life.

25. The year is 1811. Located near Saint-Petersburg, The Imperial Lyceum is a place where boys from noble families of The Russian Empire live and study. Perhaps the most famous Lyceum of all, it was home to plenty of those who would become prominent in Russian society of the time.

This is where the protagonist, one David de Boudry, teaches French to these boys.

Monsieur de Boudry knows that most of his students are blissfully unaware of a certain secret of his and likes it that way. It is best if they don’t know that he happens to be a younger brother to Jean-Paul Marat himself but changed his last name to avoid the associations.

Keeping this particular tidbit of his biography secret used to be fairly easy, until his older brother, Jean-Paul Marat, appeared in David’s life again on a snowy and frosty January day.

Marat is inexplicably alive, but he is also half-frozen and extremely disheveled when he shows up, not to mention the fact that he arrives with his wife and a very young child in tow. They all need a place to hide from the authorities, and fast.

Being a loving brother, David de Boudry hides his family and is now determined to keep them safe for not even a new name can sever family ties.

But, having made this difficult choice, will Monsieur de Boudry be able to reconcile his love for his family and the devotion to his adoptive home country? And will Marat be able to keep his loved ones and himself safe from the agents of police who lurk nearby and are quite hellbent on proving that the man they are pursuing is indeed the infamous Jacobin?

26. The protagonist is a sophomore who became a member of a Drama Club during their freshman year of high school and they are quite happy to finally have a friend group where they belong. Here nobody judges them for their stutter, their crossdressing and their fear of dogs.The protagonist is even allowed to play roles that would be normally reserved for the opposite gender just so they have an excuse to crossdress.

The upcoming play about the French Revolution is no exception and the protagonist is quite overjoyed but also frustrated that something just doesn’t ring true whenever they read their lines. Frustrated, they sneak into a time machine built by their parents and transport themselves to Paris of 1794.

They soon see that the city is in chaos and rumors about a traitor who had supposedly escaped the guillotine and went on the run with his family spread like wildfire. Moreover, the protagonist soon finds themselves in a bit of a pickle because of their name and physical appearance.

Even a man whom the protagonist saves from a mob advises them not to reveal their name and to lay low as soon as the protagonist introduces themselves. The protagonist is naturally confused but they do want to stay alive and free.

In order to survive, the protagonist decides to do what actors do best - improvise. It’s not easy, of course, but the protagonist tries to stay optimistic.

They hope that they will make it. They know they will. Giving up is not an option. After all, a Desmoulins never gives up. Right?

27. The French Revolution is not an easy period in history. It should be fairly obvious why.

The country is drowning in chaos and the future is uncertain, no matter how hard The Committee of Public Safety tries to maintain at least some semblance of order.

Meanwhile, in the heart of Paris, lives our protagonist whose main concern was not the revolution, but rather the fact that it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep their inn’s doors open.

And then, one day, the unthinkable happens. A guest is found murdered in their room. Naturally, all the other guests are now suspects, and so is the staff. A diverse bunch of people with their own agendas, secrets and ties to the victim has gathered in the inn.

Sensing that something isn’t right, the protagonist decides to become an amateur sleuth and get to the bottom of the situation.

A “whodunnit” murder mystery is about to take place in the inn and the protagonist is determined to solve it.

28. A few years passed after the betrayal of the Thermidorians. The Revolution is destroyed and all of the enemies of the new government are dead… Except for one.

The protagonist is a patient in a mental hospital on the outskirts of Paris. Here the treatment of the patients is becoming more and more humane than it used to be before. That being said, the living conditions still leave a lot to be desired. Moreover, the protagonist feels isolated and lonely due to their personal issues and the trauma that caused them to become basically imprisoned in the facility.

Luckily, the loneliness disappears when the protagonist secretly manages to befriend another patient, a mysterious young man who is kept in isolation from the rest of the people at the facility, is forced to wear a mask to hide his face and is treated far worse than the others.

Horrified by the extent of the abuse that their new friend has to endure, the protagonist teams up with him to escape to Avignon, where the protagonist’s relatives live.

Little do they know, their new friend and partner in crime is an outlaw and a Montagnard, the last of them all, so when the two finally escape the police quickly catch wind of the situation.

Can the duo get to Avignon and avoid recapture? Will this unlikely friendship help them heal from their respective trauma? And will the revolutionary’s plan to avenge his executed friends be successful?

29. (Crossover with Greek mythology) When Adrestia, a minor Greek goddess, is banished to Earth from Mount Olympus for causing too much trouble, she assumes a human disguise and travels to France of 1789, where great changes are just around the corner.

Finally finding herself in her own element once again, Adrestia (whose human name is Adrienne) decides that she has no right to miss all the fun and joins the forces of the revolution. She is a goddess of revolt and a daughter of Ares, after all.

One would think that having a goddess on your side will make fighting easier, but things are not that simple and the other gods don’t exactly take kindly to troublemakers who go against authority.

Nevertheless, Adrestia is more than willing to try and help her new allies to win in their fight for Liberty, Equality and Fraternity.

30. When the protagonists first meet up in real life, they’re ecstatic. After a few years of chatting on the Internet, the two French Revolution enthusiasts have finally met each other face to face and now they decide to set an old plan of theirs in motion.

The duo wants to perform a time travel spell invented by their witch ancestors and change the way the French Revolution ended. The spell is successfully cast, but in the process the warlocks run out of magic and are now forced to wait in the past until they are strong enough to cast the spell again to return home.

But hey, at least while they’re waiting they can do what they always wanted to do - prevent the Thermidorian Reaction, and they are going to try to do just that, even though preventing a coup d’état is far from easy, especially for two college kids from the future.

31. It’s 1815. Joseph Fouché is the Minister of Police but his days in office are numbered and he knows it.

What’s more, rumors spread about the incompetence of the police as nobody can catch the culprit behind a new string of murders. Fouché hopes that cracking the case would restore his reputation, but something isn’t right about these murders.

So far, every single victim was a participant of the Thermidorian Reaction and it simply cannot be a mere coincidence. This pattern makes Fouché fear for his life and his reputation, as in addition to the murders the sins that he and his allies had pinned on their enemies begin to resurface.

Fearing that he is next and that his own crimes are about to be exposed as well, Fouché becomes obsessed with catching this mysterious vigilante. He even has a prime suspect in mind, but he can neither track him down nor prove that it was him.

Meanwhile, the time Fouché has to rehabilitate the police force is running out. Soon he too might face the music at long last, as well as learn exactly why sparing one of your enemies while killing the rest is considered to be a classic mistake.

Will the vigilante get to Fouché? How much time does the Minister of Police actually have left before karma knocks on his door? And why does the youngest police inspector in history, who is Fouché’s beloved protégé, turn against his mentor?

32. When the protagonist decided to sneak into the Catacombs of Paris for “shits and giggles” with their buddies, the last thing they expected was a sudden time travel to a closet in an apartment of a prominent revolutionary, whose skull the protagonist was holding in their hands seconds ago.

Naturally, the protagonist gets caught by the housekeeper and promptly accused of breaking and entering at best, and an assasination attempt at worst. It doesn’t help that the protagonist has strange pills and a baseball bat on their person.

But when they’re about to get prosecuted, the inhabitant of that same apartment suddenly speaks up on their behalf and defends the protagonist, claiming that it was a mere misunderstanding. Later, that same revolutionary visits the protagonist, reveals that he knows about the existence of time travel and promises to help, as long as the protagonist goes along with his plan.

Despite suspecting that the revolutionary has an ulterior motive, the protagonist does want answers so they agree to play along...at least for a while.

33. After the Revolutionary War in America, the protagonist follows his friend and mentor, Marquis de Lafayette, to Paris as he is the only family the hero has at this point.

At first, when the French Revolution rolls around, the hero still stays by his mentor’s side, never questioning his opinions and decisions and admiring him as a hero.

But after the September Massacres reveal Lafayette’s...less heroic side the hero is utterly broken and disappointed that he trusted the wrong person yet again. This revelation prompts the hero to switch sides and become a double agent, working with the Jacobins while pretending that he is still loyal to Lafayette.

Is this the correct choice to make or will the hero’s naïveté and a simple desire to belong betray him once again?

34. Maximilien Robespierre finds himself in a difficult situation. Somehow, everyone who crosses his path keeps going missing, only to turn up brutally murdered.

Moreover, Robespierre keeps receiving notes with rather...stalkerish messages written by the culprit. The stress and the crippling paranoia are slowly taking a toll on his frail body and he collapses altogether after finding out that Camille Desmoulins and Antoine de Saint-Just got attacked as well.

Fortunately, Saint-Just and Desmoulins manage to survive the ordeal and decide that enough is enough. After a long recovery, the two men decide to set aside their differences and track down the mysterious stalker before other people close to Robespierre get hurt.

Who knows, perhaps this buddy cop-esque adventure will even help Saint-Just and Desmoulins resolve their rivalry once and for all, now that a mutual friend of theirs needs both of them.

35. An immigrant enrolls into a high school in the country where they live now, a country located on the other side of the planet, miles away from their homeland.

Isolated from the rest of the students, shunned for their Eastern European accent (feel free to pick the specific country) and their Socialist beliefs, the protagonist has very few friends and even they are imaginary - three French revolutionaries whom the protagonist admires the most.

However, things change when a classmate bonds with the protagonist over their fascination with the French Revolution and the two decide to team up and write a novel about their favorite topic, all while the three imaginary friends, who may or may not be something more than a simple product of imagination, are guiding these kids on their quest to rehabilitate the legacy of the revolution.

P. S. The Fouché tag has been graciously lent to me by @frevandrest , the tag’s inventor. This needs to become an official tag imo.

[trans-advice]

Excerpt from “Transgender History” (2017) by Susan Stryker (“Chapter 3: Trans Liberation”)

[...]

Stonewall:

Meanwhile, across the continent [from San Francisco, California, USA], another important center of transgender activism was taking shape in New York City [New York, USA], where, not coincidentally, Harry Benjamin maintained his primary medical practice. In 1968, Mario Martino, a female-to-male transsexual, founded Labyrinth, the first organization in the United States devoted specifically to the needs of transgender men. Martino and his wife, who both worked in the health care field, helped other transsexual men navigate their way through the often-confusing maze of transgender-oriented medical services just then beginning to emerge, which (despite being funded primarily by Reed Erickson) were geared more toward the needs of transgenderwomen than transgender men. Labyrinth was not a political organization but rather one that aimed to help individuals make the often-difficult transition from one social gender to another.

Far overshadowing the quiet work of Martino’s Labyrinth Foundation, however, were the dramatic events of June 1969 at the Stonewall Inn, a bar in New York’s Greenwich Village. The “Stonewall Riots” have been mythologized as the origin of the gay liberation movement, and there is a great deal of truth in that characterization, but—as we have seen—gay, transgender, and gender-nonconforming people had been engaging in militant protest and collective actions against social oppression for at least a decade by that time. Stonewall stands out as the biggest and most consequential example of a kind of event that was becoming increasingly common, rather than as a unique occurrence. By 1969, as a result of many years of social upheaval and political agitation, large numbers of people who were socially marginalized because of their sexual orientation or gender identity, especially younger people who were part of the Baby Boomer generation, were drawn to the idea of “gay revolution” and were primed for any event that would set such a movement off. The Stonewall Riots provided that very spark, and they inspired the formation of Gay Liberation Front groups in big cities, progressive towns, and college campuses all across the United States. Ever since the summer of 1969, various groups of people who identify with the people who participated in the rioting have argued about what actually happened, what the riot’s underlying causes were, who participated in it, and what the movements that point back to Stonewall as an important part of their own history have in common with one another.

Although Greenwich Village was not as economically down-and-out as San Francisco’s Tenderloin, it was nevertheless a part of the city that appealed to the same sorts of people who resisted at Cooper Do-Nut, Dewey’s, and Compton’s Cafeteria: drag queens, hustlers, gender nonconformists of many varieties, gay men, lesbians, and countercultural types who simply “dug the scene.” The Stonewall Inn was a small, shabby, Mafia-run bar (as were many of the gay-oriented bars in New York back in the days when being gay or cross-dressing were crimes). It drew a racially mixed crowd and was popular mainly for its location on Christopher Street near Sheridan Square, where many gay men “cruised” for casual sex, and because it featured go-go boys, cheap beer, a good jukebox, and a crowded dance floor. Then as now, there was a lively street scene in the bar’s vicinity, one that drew young and racially mixed queer folk from through the region most weekend nights. Police raids were relatively frequent (usually when the bar was slow to make its payoffs to corrupt cops) and relatively routine and uneventful. Once the bribes were sorted out, the bar would reopen, often on the same night. But in the muggy, early morning hours of Saturday, June 28, 1969, events departed from the familiar script when the squad cars pulled up outside the Stonewall Inn.

[Source text Inserts “Sidebar: Radical Transsexual” here]

A large crowd of people gathered on the street as police began arresting workers and patrons and escorting them out of the bar and into the waiting police wagons. Some people in the crowd started throwing coins at the police officers, taunting them for taking “payola.” Eyewitness accounts of what happened next differ in their particulars, but some witnesses claim a transmasculine person resisted police attempts to put them in the police wagon, while others noted that African American and Puerto Rican members of the crowd—many of them street queens, feminine gay men, transgender women, or gender-nonconforming youth—grew increasingly angry as they watched their “sisters” being arrested and escalated the level of opposition to the police. Both stories might well be true. Sylvia Rivera, a transgender woman who came to play an important role in subsequent transgender political history, long maintained that, after she was jabbed by a police baton, she threw the beer bottle that tipped the crowd’s mood from mockery to collective resistance. In any case, the targeting of gender-nonconforming people, people of color, and poor people during a police action fits the usual patterns of police behavior in such situations.

Bottles, rocks, and other heavy objects were soon being hurled at the police, who, in retaliation, began grabbing people from the crowd and beating them.Weekend partiers and residents in the heavily gay neighborhood quickly swelledthe ranks of the crowd to more than two thousand people, and the outnumberedpolice barricaded themselves inside the Stonewall Inn and called for reinforcements. Outside, rioters used an uprooted parking meter as a batteringram to try to break down the bar’s door, while other members of the crowdattempted to throw a Molotov cocktail inside to drive the police back into the streets. Tactical Patrol Force officers arrived on the scene in an attempt to contain the growing disturbance, which nevertheless continued for hours until dissipating before dawn. That night, thousands of people regrouped at the Stonewall Inn to protest. When the police arrived to break up the assembled crowd, street fighting even more violent than that of the night before ensued. One particularly memorable sight amid the melee was a line of drag queens, arms linked, dancing a can-can and singing campy, improvised songs that mocked the police and their inability to regain control of the situation: “We are the Stonewall girls / We wear our hair in curls / We always dress with flair / We wear clean underwear / We wear our dungarees / Above our nellie knees.” Minor skirmishes and protest rallies continued throughout the next few days before finally dying down. By that time, however, untold thousands of people had been galvanized into political action.

Sidebar: Radical Transsexual

Suzy Cooke was a young hippie from upstate New York who lived in a commune in Berkeley, California, when she started transitioning from male to female in 1969. She came out as a bisexual transsexual in the context of the radical counterculture.

I was facing being called back up for the draft. I had already been called up once and had just gone in and played crazy with them the year before. But that was just an excuse. I had also been doing a lot of acid and really working things out. And then December 31, 1968, I took something—I don’t really know what it was—but everything just collapsed. I said, “This simply cannot go on.” To the people that I lived with, I said, “I don’t care if you hate me, but I’m just going to have to do something. I’m going to have to work it out over the next couple of months, and that it doesn’t matter if you reject me, I just have to do it.”

As it was, the people in my commune took it very well. I introduced the cross-dressing a few days later as a way of avoiding the draft. And they were just taken aback at how much just putting on the clothes made me into a girl. I mean, hardly any makeup. A little blush, a little shadow, some gloss, the right clothes, padding. I passed. I passed really easily in public. This is like a few months before Stonewall. And by this point I was dressing up often enough that people were used to seeing it.

I was wallowing in the happiness of having a lot of friends. Here I was being accepted, this kinda cool/sorta goofy hippie kid. I was being accepted by all these heavy radicals. I had been rejected by my parental family, and I had never found a family at college, and now here I was with this family of like eight people all surrounding me. And as it turned out, even some of the girls that I had slept with were thinking that this was really cool. All the girls would donate clothes to me. I really had not been expecting this. I had been expecting rejection, I really had been. And I was really very pleased and surprised. Because I thought that if I did this then I was going to have to go off and live with the queens. And I didn’t.

Stonewall’s Transgender Legacy:

Within a month of the Stonewall Riots, gay activists inspired by the events in Greenwich Village formed the Gay Liberation Front (GLF), which modeled itself on radical Third World liberation and anti-imperialist movements. The GLF spread quickly through activist networks in the student and antiwar movements, primarily among white young people of middle-class origin. Almost as quickly as it formed, however, divisions appeared within the GLF, primarily taking aim at the movement’s domination by white men and its perceived marginalization of women, working-class people, people of color, and trans people. People with more liberal, less radical politics soon organized as the Gay Activists Alliance (GAA), which aimed to reform laws rather than foment revolution. Many lesbians redirected their energy toward radical feminism and the women’s movement. And trans people, after early involvement in the GLF (and being explicitly excluded from the GAA’s agenda), quickly came to feel that they did not have a welcome place in the movement they had done much to inspire. As a consequence, they soon formed their own organizations.

In 1970, Sylvia Rivera and another Stonewall regular, Marsha P. Johnson, established STAR—Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries. Their primary goal was to help street kids stay out of jail, or get out of jail, and to find food, clothing, and a place to live. They opened STAR House, an overtly politicized version of the “house” culture that already characterized black and Latino queer kinship networks, where dozens of trans youth could count on a free and safe place to sleep. Rivera and Johnson, as “house mothers,” would hustle to pay the rent, while their “children” would scrounge for food. Their goal was to educate and protect the younger people who were coming into the kind of life they themselves led—they even dreamed of establishing a school for kids who’d never learned to read and write because their formal education was interrupted by discrimination and bullying. Some STAR members, particularly Rivera, were also active in the Young Lords, a revolutionary Puerto Rican youth organization. One of the first times the STAR banner was flown in public was at a mass demonstration against police repression organized by the Young Lords in East Harlem in 1970, in which STAR participated as a group. STAR House lasted for only two or three years and inspired a few short-lived imitators in other cities, but its legacy lives on even now.

A few other transgender groups formed in New York in the early 1970s. A trans woman named Judy Bowen organized two extremely short-lived groups: Transvestites and Transsexuals (TAT) in 1970 and Transsexuals Anonymous in 1971. More significant was the Queens’ Liberation Front (QLF), founded by drag queen Lee Brewster and heterosexual transvestite Bunny Eisenhower. The QLF formed in part to resist the erasure of drag and trans visibility in the first Christopher Street Liberation Day march, which commemorated the Stonewall Riots and is now an annual event held in New York on the last Sunday in June. In many other cities, this weekend has become the traditional date to celebrate LGBTQ Pride. The formation of the QLF demonstrates how quickly the gay liberation movement started to push aside some of the very people who had the greatest stake in militant resistance at Stonewall. QLF members participated in that first Christopher Street Liberation Day march and were involved in several other political campaigns through the next few years—including wearing drag while lobbying state legislators in Albany. QLF’s most lasting contribution, however, was the publication of Drag Queen magazine (later simply Drag), which had the best coverage of transgender news and politics in the United States, and which offered fascinating glimpses of trans life and activism outside the major coastal cities. In New York, QLF founder Lee Brewster’s private business, Lee’s Mardi Gras Boutique, was a gathering place for segments of the city’s transgender community well into the 1990s.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! They made this amazing piece for this this work; go support them with reblogs so it can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well! You’re input means a lot and I’m truly grateful.

Chapter 2: The Lines Trace Back to You

Chapter Summary: Logan and Virgil share a quiet moment away from their ship as Logan tells stories with the stars.

Day 2 Prompt: Song/Stars

Warnings: none. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 1349

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

The night was still and calm, bringing a quiet respite for the crew of a ship docked on the beach nearby. Waves lapped quietly at the ships hull and lulled even the most dutiful night watcher into a light slumber, entrusting the safety of their fellow shipmates to the vast expanse of peaceful nothing that lay beyond the beach. Soft winds whistled through the sparse trees and kicked up the sand at their bases, irritating the crabs hiding underneath as they hastened to rebury themselves before sunrise. Crickets sang out the last notes of their songs while birds chirped the first of theirs. Up on a nearby hill a man sighed blissfully, hidden from view even from the keenest of eyes and leaning back to relax into the sturdy chest behind him.

Virgil felt a low rumble against his back and smiled, tilting his head back to look at what his designated pillow could be laughing at. Deep green eyes met a deeper blue and not for the first time he felt himself get lost in the other’s gaze. He would sooner throw himself off his own ship in a storm than admit he might be a sap but those eyes had always compromised any notion he might have had that his heart was anything other than soft. A hand came up to cup his jaw and he closed his eyes to feel the ghost of a kiss brush against his forehead. Too soon the feeling passed, replaced instead with the hand crossing over to grip his shoulder and pull him tighter into the heat that radiated off the body behind him. In the chill of the early morning he had never been more grateful to have a living space heater to call his own.

Nuzzling back as Logan rested their chin on top of his head he sighed happily, pouting slightly as another chuckle jostled his position somewhat. He brought his hand up to tap at Logan’s arm to get their attention, snapping out quick motions with his fingers when he was sure he had it.

"What’s so funny?"

“You’re too easy to rile up.” Logan answered affectionately. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to see this side of you. You give orders all day like you were born to the violence of the sea and yet cling to me like a damsel in distress when away from prying eyes. It’s cute.”

Laughing outright as their forearm was bit gently in warning they brought their other hand up to comb through Virgil’s fluffy hair, earning a content purr for their efforts which they figured meant their apologetic offer had been accepted. They leaned back against the tree again, tightening their grip to bring Virgil with them so they could gaze up at the sky. It was still dark enough to see the stars relatively clearly, the barely there threat of dawn lighting the horizon just enough to show the purple of the other’s hair. They hummed softly in triumph as they found what they were looking for, bringing their hand up to point at a cluster of stars. 

“Can you see that bright star there? Slightly left of the treeline?” They waited until Virgil tapped his confirmation before continuing. “There are three more dimmer stars that sort of make a line see? And crossing them are three stars with a row of three set right on the edge making a curve shape. Altogether they resemble a swan.”

Virgil tapped their arm again that he understood as he relaxed completely into the secure hold. He always loved to hear Logan talk about stars- a lot of the time the only thing they were used for was navigation, old stories forgotten and rewritten to better suit a life of sailing the seas. But when Logan talked about them there were always stories attached that dated back to Roman philosophers or amazonian astrologists. Where Virgil had been trained to see calculations in the sky Logan told of great battles won and lost, of Great Hunts led by archers on elk and bears doomed to wander the void for eternity- all told with the deep rumbling voice he had grown accustomed to falling asleep to when the night allowed it.

“It’s called Cygnus.” That voice called Virgil’s attention back from his wandering thoughts. “It’s Greek history is quite dreary, as the stories of their gods tend to be. But it’s relevance in Hinduism is quite lovely. It correlates with Brahmamuhurtha which translates to ‘a moment in the universe’. Between 4:24 and 5;12 in the morning is supposed to be a favorable time to do anything important or get a running start to the day. It’s a much better story to whatever family drama the Greek Gods had to earn them a constellation.”

Virgil snorted at the last bit; even if Logan knew almost everything there was to know when it came to Greek, Roman and Norse mythology they held a particular disdain for the dramatic and hyperbolized tragedy that made up the majority of the former’s myths and legends. Often if he needed a distraction from something Virgil would start them up on a rant about who should have talked to who about this certain subject so that this group of people wasn’t doomed to be cursed because of those people’s actions. Once Virgil had left the room to do a small task in the next one over, surprisingly unnoticed by Logan who had continued pacing and ranting like he had never left, voice carrying clearly through the walls all while ripping Zeus a new one for not being able to quote “Just keep it in his pants.”

Deciding the air was much too peaceful to start up another one of those discussions he instead raised his hands so Logan could see them, black nail polish glinting in the first rays of dawn as he signed. “What would you be doing right now, with your moment in the universe? Would you be back home waking up at dawn to feed the cows instead of leading a life of crime?”

Smiling, Logan shook their head. They hadn't thought when they were a teenager that someday they'd be sailing around on a pirates’ ship with one of most ruthless (as far as rumors went) crews in all the seas. They’d been trying to swipe Virgil’s coinpurse, not knowing who he was at the time, and had of course been caught before the bag had even left the pirate’s belt. The moment their skin had touched however, a thousand and one lives had flashed in an instant, leaving them blinking in astonishment into green eyes that glimmered with reserved mischief and buried kindness. 

Prayers they hadn’t even known they had had been answered that day as an anonymous envelope containing the money their family had needed was found on their doorstep along with hidden coordinates along the edge that was thankfully overlooked by their mother. They missed her some days but their life had taken a better turn when they had turned up on the boat at the crack of dawn, hauling themself over the railing and waving the envelope at the person who had their face pinned to the deck with their sword before they could breathe a word. Home? That was with Virgil. Looking down at the man still curled comfortably in their lap worrying at his bottom lip they expressed as much in earnest.

“I’d be right here, doing exactly as I am right now. You are my moment always, and there’s nowhere else in the universe that I’d rather be.”

Tracing lines in the freckles on their cheeks, Logan felt Virgil spell out “sap” on their cheekbones, making them grin and lean over to cup the other’s cheeks in their own hands. 

“All the lines between the stars- they all trace back to you my love.” 

The hill obscured the kiss shared between them from any eyes that may have wandered in their direction, allowing only the stars to bear witness to their moment in the universe.

Previous     Next

[random-thought-depository]

Watched the X-Files episode Teliko the night before last. It got into Vulture.com’s 10 most embarassing X-Files episodes list, and there seems to be a general view that it was a rather problematic episode. I can see why: the concept of basically a melanin vampire is kind of goofy, and, uh... You know that thing where people used to filicide autistic children because they thought they were changelings? Apparently, there’s something kind of like that in parts of Africa but directed against albinos (the details are different, but it’s a similar pattern of folk beliefs motivating violence against vulnerable people). Teliko felt like it might have been referencing that in just about the worst way possible; like the writers just went “Let’s have an African-themed monster this week; I skimmed a book about west African mythology for five minutes and I get the impression they think albinos are scary, so let’s just make something up based on that” (a quick Google search turns up basically nothing about “Telikos” as a thing in actual real-world mythology). That said, I do think they did a couple of interesting things with the monster.

You know that thing about how culture is an extended part of the human phenotype, like the use of fire to cook food is what might have allowed our digestive systems to shrink and our brains to grow, reshaping our bodies to make us what we are? The episode gave me the impression that something similar was going on with “Mr. Aboah’s” hunting and feeding, like it was hard to tell where his use of technology ended and his biology began. He used a plant-based poison to paralyze his victims (clearly technology). He’d suck out people’s brain-juices using this tube that he apparently kept jammed deep in his throat most of the time and pulled out through his mouth before he fed (presumably ramming it back into himself after he was done); it was ambiguous whether it was part of his body or a tool, and if it was a tool I think he must have had some biological adaptations for carrying it around inside him like that, because I’m pretty sure it would be harmful and excruciatingly painful for a normal human to do that. He was able to cram himself into very small spaces, and he apparently went into some sort of coma-like sleep for much of the day, suggesting his anatomy and physiology was abnormal above and beyond his inability to properly regulate his own body chemistry; he wasn’t just a person with a disease who’d figured out an unethical coping mechanism for it. Mulder and Scully speculated about him being part of a “clan” of people like him, and when he was talking with his immigration councilor there was a bit about him being able to bring over relatives through chain migration that I think was clearly played for ominousness. There was a lot of subtextual emphasis on the idea that he wasn’t a one-off mutant, he was part of a community of people like him, and that queasy “not sure where his biology ends and his use of technology begins” thing fits into that well, suggesting that he’s the product of a history, that his kind has been around long enough to develop their own culture with distinctive weapons and tools and to evolve.

I also liked the way the episode emphasized the vulnerability inherent in what the vampire is (or in this case the psuedo-vampire); it reminded me of Max Schreck’s performance as Count Orlock in the 1979 Nosferatu. The vampire is a creature that must take something vital from others to keep themselves alive, healthy, and strong. And Teliko and Nosferatu both gave me an impression of a vampire (broadly defined) who was able to stay alive, but not necessarily healthy and strong. I remember Nosferatu’s Orlock gave me an impression of tremendous weariness; in the dinner scene toward the beginning of the movie he sounded so tired, like a student who’d been studying until 3:00 AM and was struggling just to talk and stay standing up. “Mr. Aboah” gave me a vibe of fragility and precarity; during the day he hides in dark holes or in a dark apartment with the curtains closed and the lights off because the sun hurts him, he’s visibly not well, his immigration councilor comments that he looks feverish, his short and minimalistic statements suggest not having the spoons for real conversation (and possibly not being confident in English, which is another kind of vulnerability). The tube in his throat fits with this too, cause keeping a tube in his throat like that looks like it might hurt. Some of this is probably influenced by having some real-life context for the ways albinism can be disabling; IIRC if we go with real-life precedent “Mr. Aboah” would probably experience increasing sun/light sensitivity and deterioration of his vision if he doesn’t get the brain-juice and starts losing his pigmentation. I really got the vibe that it’s a struggle for him to get enough brain-juice to keep himself alive and healthy and strong, and he lives in a state of precarity because he can’t be sure where he’s going to get that next hit he’ll need soon, like an addict who doesn’t have the money to reliably support his habit, or (and in a sense this is exactly what he is) like a person with a chronic illness who can’t reliably access the medicine he needs. He’s dangerous, he kills people, but I also felt kind of sorry for him, because his life looked pretty unpleasant. Which, like... if you’re going to use disability-coding as monstrousness-coding, I think this one of the less bad and more interesting ways of doing that.

That said, I’ll note, like... if the episode was going to lean on “this isn’t a supernatural thing, this is a medical thing,” the depigmentation thing seemed kind of cartoonish and thus clashed with that. Like, even leaving aside “I’m pretty sure not having a pituitary gland wouldn’t actually work that way,” I think melanin would stick around for longer than that even if your body stopped making it? Think about how long it takes for a tan to fade. And hair is IIRC mostly “dead” (metabolically inactive), so I think it at least should stay dark and just grow in pale/white from the roots if the hair follicles stopped making pigments. I think the growing patches of white skin were an effective dramatic device for communicating “Mr. Aboah’s” deteriorating condition if he didn’t get the brain-juice, but maybe handle it differently somehow?

[star-spangledstud]

MIND GAMES - TWO

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve suggests dinner with the team. You find out you hate lying. 

Warnings: angst, mentions of violence, anxiety 

Note: Wanna be tagged in future chapters? Shoot me a message :)

SERIES MASTERLIST.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

A hail of half-empty wine glasses, trail mix and playing cards fly around the room when the coffee table they were stood on is flipped upside down. Your back hits the carpet with a dull thud, followed soon after by the back of your head. You wince loudly, hand reaching immediately for the base of your skull to relieve the throbbing pain that will no doubt leave you with a menacing headache for days to come.

The men in black, whose faces are nothing but a swirl of flesh tones in your peripheral, grab you by each ankle while you try to recover from your fall. They shout in a foreign language as glass shatters somewhere in one of the other rooms. Then, the sound of open gunfire and the scent of smoke and gunpowder pervade the air. You’re screaming, kicking your feet and flailing your arms wildly while they drag you along the floor, but the sound of your voice is drowned out by the shouting and the guns.

Glass and trailmix accumulate in your hair when they drag you across the room, and small pieces cut the back of your arms and legs. You’re crying, you can tell because your cheeks are warm and wet, and the tears flowing from your eyes mix with the blood of your dead family as they run down the length of your face.

The good thing is you know you’re having a bad dream, but the problem is that you’ve seen this scene unfold so many times that you’re not sure whether the memory of what happened is real or not. 

You’ve seen the scene play out well over one hundred times in your sleep. Red liquid flies through the air in slow motion, your assailants shove their weapons in your face, you try to run away but feel nailed to the ground. You’ve experienced it so many times, and have attempted to change what happens in so many instances. Still, whatever you do, the ending is always the same.

The faces of the men responsible for the murder of your family are blurry, not because you hit your head so hard you can’t see straight, but because you don’t remember what they look like. Their features are warped beyond recognition, and no matter how hard you try to focus on the words spilling from their mouths, you can’t identify any of what they’re saying. It almost sounds like you’re underwater.

In the dream, you try to remember where you are, but your immediate surroundings change every time. Sometimes the coffee table is glass, sometimes it’s wood. The wallpaper shows a different pattern each time you look at it, and the dead bodies scattered all around the room have the same undefined features as your assailants. The only thing that remains the same is the feeling of absolute hopelessness and terror as they drag you away to an unmarked aeroplane that takes you somewhere in Eastern Europe. 

Poland, maybe. You can’t remember, even though you came to spend the next seven years of your life there.

Nearly every one of these dreams is the same. It’s just you, watching scenes of your life unfold through a thick curtain of smoke that hides the most distinct, essential details. A large, gaping black hole has been punched through the part of your brain responsible for the production of memories. No matter how hard you try to fill in the blank spaces, it proves to be absolutely impossible. 

Whatever HYDRA did to erase your memories, it worked.

It’s hard to think straight when you wake up in the middle of the night, images of the dream you just had still playing before your eyes. You hoped that getting further away from the people that created those dreadful memories would allow the pictures to go away. Yet, as you sit up straight in bed, chest heaving up and down in rapid motions, you know they followed you even here, like a thundercloud continuously looming over you.

As your first week in the compound comes to a close, you find yourself slowly getting settled into your new home. With Steve practically following you around every chance he gets, the two of you take the time exploring the entire building from top to bottom. He shows you the library, the garage, the gym and the lab, and promises to take you to the theatre the next time the team hosts a movie night. 

You don’t tell him you haven’t seen a single movie in years, but the words are on the tip of your tongue while he rattles on about 21st century flicks he was forced to watch and ended up really loving.

When the two of you walk along the corridors of the compound, it’s mostly him who talks while you do the listening. You don’t mind it. It gives you time to think. While he speaks, you find yourself trying to dissect the inside of his mind. Still, no matter how hard you listen, all that comes up is silence. It’s odd not to be distracted by a second voice in your head. You’re not used to the simplicity of not having to focus on what’s coming from the other person’s mouth instead of what’s coming from their thoughts.

Each day that passes, Steve introduces you to a new member of the team. The first person you come across is Sam Wilson, who you find running on the treadmill two days after your arrival. He immediately takes a liking to you, and you end up chatting for nearly an hour straight. His thoughts are almost deafening, but his sense of humour makes up for his internal volume.

By the time Saturday rolls around, you find yourself able to chat comfortably with everyone you’ve met so far. Even Tony Stark, who appears at first to be quite wary of your presence despite giving you a place to stay, engages in conversation with you over a cup of black coffee. It’s relatively easy to befriend people when you can see straight through them, especially when they aren’t aware of your abilities.

Still, it’s odd how easily all of them have accepted you into their little bubble.

“Are you okay?”

Unease blooms in the pit of your stomach when you realize you’ve been quiet for nearly fifteen minutes, and your palms instantly begin to sweat.

“Yeah,” you quickly conjure up a smile, “just thinking.”

“About what? If you don’t mind me asking,” Steve asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you tell him truthfully, “I feel like this is all very weird.”

Sam raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

“You guys don’t even really know me,” you remind him, “and you’re giving me shelter. I’m just having trouble wrapping my head around all of this.”

“We’ve read your file,” Steve bites his lower lip, “letting you in was a collective decision, made by all of us.”

Sam nods in agreement, arms crossed tight over his chest. 

Wondering what exactly is written in this so-called file, you chuckle dryly, “no offence guys, but I think that file might be missing a few important details.”

Steve blushes, “a lot of it was blacked out. Look, maybe we should all come together tonight, have dinner or something. You can tell us more about yourself if you want.”

“Yeah,” Sam exclaims, “good idea, cap.” 

Your heart picks up, pushing your pulse while you slowly nod your head, “sure.”

“Great,” Steve steps towards his own room and places his palm on the fingerprint scanner, “we’ll let everybody know.”

Sam turns around and heads for his own room. You quickly disappear into the safety of your bedroom and slam the door shut a little too hard in the process.

“Crap,” you mutter to yourself, “fuck!”

You are not looking forward to this.

“What do you mean, you’ve never heard of Asgard?!” 

Thor’s voice booms over the sound of clinking cutlery and laughter. You slowly lift your shoulders before taking a large sip of water, allowing the cold beverage to relieve the tension in the back of your throat. 

It’s hard to keep all the buzzing internal monologues in the back of your mind, and it takes a moment for you to center yourself before you can answer Thor’s burning question. 

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, “I just never had a chance to read up on Norse mythology. Please forgive me. I’m sure it’s a beautiful place.” 

It is beautiful, Thor pouts, I miss it. 

“I’m sure you miss it very much,” you add quickly, to which he smiles sadly. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Tony smirks, “he has a big ego and a tiny brain.”

You nearly choke on your water when he winks in your direction. You roll your shoulders to rid yourself of the tension building in your muscles and prepare yourself for the direction the conversation is headed next. 

“So, Y/N,” Tony continues, “how do you know Fury?” 

Of course you knew he was going to ask this. He’s been thinking about it for the last fifteen minutes. Still, heat rises to your cheeks when you place your glass down, and you push a few stray strands of hair from your face and tuck them behind your ear. Your heart is pounding now, but in a room full of enhanced people, including some of the world’s best spies, you know better than to allow yourself to freak out.

Steve, who’s seated right next to you, shifts in his seat. The action, albeit hardly noticeable, startles you anyway, and your eyes fly in his direction out of reflex. You think he looks nice, dressed in a cream colored sweater with his hair swooped to one side, and in a fit of insanity, you’re tempted to compliment him and ignore Tony all together. 

“I don’t actually,” you say slowly, “My mom did, before she passed away. They knew each other before SHIELD was even a thing, when they were still young.” 

“So how’d you get his number?” Clint questions. 

“My mom gave it to me be before she died, told me to call it if I ever needed help.” 

“What’d you need help for?” he continues. 

“Clint, that’s enough-” Steve says before you can answer. 

“No, it’s okay,” you gently touch his arm, “my family got caught up with the wrong people a long time ago. Since the death of my mother tensions have only gotten worse. Fury offered me a place to stay while I wait for things to settle down.”

“What kind of people?” Natasha asks while she lays her fork down. 

“I think Fury can tell you more about that than I can,” you take a bite of your potatoes, “my mom did her best to shelter me.”

Your gaze flies back and forth between Natasha and Steve, and you begin to pray that she out of everyone at this table believes your story. You’re hyper aware of every move you make, and the tension in the air is almost too much for you to bear.

The crease between Steve’s brows and his hunched shoulders make you more uncomfortable. You read the room to make sure they believe you, before picking up your glass and taking another sip of water. Slowly, the conversation dies down, and you’re left with shallow breathing and red cheeks by the time Tony and Sam begin a discussion about a video game they were playing last night. 

“Are you okay?”

Steve’s voice is soft in your ear. The unmistakable hint of concern is evident in its tone when it breaks through your thoughts, and you quickly nod as to not alarm him any further.

When you walk back to your room later that evening,  you can’t ignore the painful twist in your stomach. Your hands are tightened into fists by the time you enter your dorm, and the need to swallow away the lump in your throat is nearly overbearing. You could never tell them you used to work for HYDRA, not in a million years. They would cast you out immediately, send your ass to the curb or lock you away in a federal prison for the rest of your life before they’d let you get away with it.

You didn’t think lying to people you hardly know could hurt this much. 

NEXT CHAPTER.

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