#Avian Circlet

[educationaldm]

So how do you become a Bird Master? With this Avian Circlet, of course! Homebrew magic item from The Griffon's Saddlebag.  But with great power, comes great responsibility... and bird droppings. thegriffonssaddlebag.com

[doodle-pops]

Eönwë Avian Traits Characterisation

Part 1: [Wings, Behavioural Habits, Courting Ritual and Courting] | Part 2 |

A/N: I had these thoughts a pretty long while ago and believed it was best to compile them so everyone can follow and understand where and why Eönwë does all these gestures. Due to the headcanons being incredibly long (because I went into heavy details), Pre-heat, Mating and Post-heat would be in an entirely separate post. I did so much research for these sobs. So, this is the first part. It's all fluff. So, here are my characterisations of him and what I use to write my fic.

Warning: nothing but just fluff and jealous Eönwë fighting more birds.

| Wings |

His wings are the replica of the Stella Sea Eagle, huge but just fluffier and whiter.

The outer coat of feathers has a silvery sheen that becomes obvious when sunlight reflected off them. It gives off a tiny iridescent glow with the sun setting.

Has the ability to release his feathers, meaning he can detach his feathers one by one and still have control over their motion (just like Hawks from BNHA), though he takes an excess volume of time to regrow them when damaged.

Like birds, he also goes through the process of moulting before the mating season which means he sheds his feathers and regrows them. Thus, there would come a time when you would see some of his feathers appearing dull and new, while his wings also appear empty.

While moulting with regular birds can take up to months, with Eӧnwё, it’s only a few weeks or up to two (2) months, given his Ainur abilities. His plumage would symmetrically fall off and renew itself.

During this time, his wings become extra sensitive, so moving around and lying on his back becomes impossible and painful. Even the muscles closer on his back around the base of his wings become awfully sensitive and painful.

Also, because his wings are a part of him, when he’s shedding and they grow lighter, he loses his balance. His wings are essentially his equilibrium, so losing them or losing the weight throws him off and he gains wobbly legs.

| Preening |

By nature, Eӧnwё is highly serious about his appearance and is considered one of the most pristine and cleanliest Ainur, second to Manwё of them all.

Always cleaning his feathers for any dirty, small pebbles, mud or any ruffles of the sort, even for bugs that may have attached themselves to his feathers throughout his flights.

He has an entire day dedicated to cleaning his wings. Mostly performed in one of the private pools or hot springs, he’ll gather a bunch of oils and sweet-scented fragrances to help make his wings appear shiny and pleasant.

One by one, he releases his feathers and lay them out to be cleaned using a soft cloth and gently scented soaps. He prefers the scent of peppermint and vanilla.

Not only does he focus on his wings, but he also focuses on his body, his hair, nails and skin. He places the same volume of effort on his wings on the rest of this body. Always tidying and adjusting some part of his appearance or clothes.

Adorned mostly in blue, white, silver and cream, Eӧnwё keeps to his colours, not liking the idea of breaking patterns and keeping true to his instincts.

The only extra he'll adorn himself in are flowers, like flower crowns that you would have given him or the little elflings gave to him.

| Regular Behaviour |

He’s a lively person by nature and he’s always singing and dancing, whistling some merry tune.

Bobbing his head to the beat of drums or swaying lightly on his feet to the sound of harps in the distance. Like most birds, he does personal aerial dances but that’s for when he’s impressing his mate.

Naturally loves sparkly objects and would collect and store them away. He has a private collection of rocks and little broken jewellery pieces, just anything sparkly.

Furthermore, he loves to accessorise with sparkly items; from necklaces to bangles to circlets and hairpins. Eӧnwё adores making himself appear glittery, though he sometimes gets mesmerised and plays with them (like some cat).

On the regular, he stretches his wings by going on flights. Flying to great heights and soaring with all the other birds, feeling the wind between his wings and basking in the sense of freedom.

Along with his avian tendencies, he is a social person by nature, always hopping around and curious. Interacting with others and learning, mimicking and engaging. Learning any new pieces of information, never knowing when they could be useful.

He is also a tidy person when it comes to his nest, and not in the manner of mating but in terms of cleanliness. He hates the idea of mess and will spend hours even up to days tidying his home.

| Jealousy |

Eӧnwё’s avian behavioural traits are very similar to those of an eagle, thus, high-key territorial and refuse to share his space with other birds, but this only becomes so when he has a mate.

On the regular, because he does have compassion and understanding, he doesn’t have a problem interacting with other birds, playing or feeding them, evening going as far as to preen them.

However, when he does have a mate, his jealousy is unmatched. He doesn’t even allow for another bird that’s your pet or friend around you. Thus, smaller birds become terrified before him when he’s radiating his jealousy.

Chirping and snapping at each other, as much as he does have Avian tendencies, he is also Ainur with people-person-like behaviours, so he’ll use some of those as well when arguing with the birds.

Flares his wings and fluffs them to appear more presentable in your eyes when other birds are around. Would go as far as to wrap his wings around you to shut them out (you always have your fearless birds).

When jealous of others who aren’t birds, he is territorial still, but his feral side is riled up a lot more. He knows that those other birds can’t compare, but actual people can so Eӧnwё just might engage in an actual fight.

Now, his jealousy isn’t sudden, this occurs when he’s approaching mating season, or you are ovulating. Thus you don’t have to worry about him randomly snapping at people, though it’s best when the mating season approaches to stay indoors.

By avian nature, he is jealous, but when he’s just being himself, he’s rather chill and relaxed. He understands that you have friends and desires to interact with them.

| Pre-Courting/Attracting A Mate |

Very similar to my Ainur Simps headcanons, Eӧnwё has no problem when it comes to swooning you with all the tricks up his sleeves.

From singing to dancing, whistling a merry tune whenever you’re around and fluffing up those feathers.

He spends extra time preening himself to ensure that he’s looking spick and spank just you for, and when your eyes do fall on him, please compliment his appearance otherwise he feels as though all his efforts went to waste.

When being around him, you need to do lots of research on avian behaviours otherwise when he performs all his little gestures, you would be clueless and reciprocate wrongly.

This being said, his love for collecting shiny objects will increase he would pass them to you whenever he returns from trips. Do not throw them away because it would break his heart and cause him to believe you had rejected him a long time ago.

Store them in a safe place and show him one day all the collectables you saved he gave you and watch as he melts completely. In his head, he’s singing about how he can’t wait to marry you.

It is a part of his courting ritual to gift his mate with presents/gifts as a token of love and to prove that he can provide and swoon/be romantic. At the same time, he does present you with actual gifts like jewellery, hairpins, and necklace (sparkles).

Incredibly protective in this stage and will ward off any and all potential suitors because he is already your mate. He’s growling and pushing people away as well as ruffling in his feathers and fluffing them as a warning.

He loves to take you on little walks to open areas where he can perform aerial dances for you— only the best dances saved for you. Clap and applaud him as well as give him praises; his feathers shine a lot more.

| Courting |

Now that the both of you are courting, Eӧnwё’s form of affection will amplify. At first, he begins by holding your hand, nuzzling into it and enjoying your scent.

He’s always attached to your side and it’s to mostly rub his scent all over you to ward off any birds, other persons with animalistic traits and unwanted suitors. He even takes no chances when it comes to his Lord Manwё, knowing that he has avian traits as well (bird-brain thinking).

Whenever you are visiting, he does extra tidying and adds lots of flowers to sweeten his home for you. He likes to sneak in the little question “Do you like it?”. Your answer does have an effect on him.

Yes, means that it’s a piece of additional information for preparing for your future home together— anything to make his mate happy. Do not tell him no, I will find you if you break his heart.

Speaking of cleaning, when it comes to preening, he does enjoy it when you assist him. It did take him a while to welcome you into his type of intimacy because they’re his wings and a part of him.

Eӧnwё will take his time to show you all the proper steps when teaching you how to care for his wings. How to part the feathers, how to wash them, which direction to wipe, everything.

This also leads to him allowing you to wash his hair as well— when you’ve made it to that stage, that’s when you know Eӧnwё is comfortable with you. Preening with him takes place quite frequently and sometimes on purpose, he will dirty himself just to feel your hands on his feathers.

When you are cuddling, he would enclose his wings around you both, cocooning you from the rest of the world and it’s just the both of you. He loves to coo and chirp for you as signs that he’s happy.

Slowly closing his eyes and opening them, nuzzling into your hands when you rub his head (swear he’s a cat).

He always leaves a feather behind when he’s going on trips; a piece of him for you to keep. He can hear the vibrations of your voice through the feather when you speak, but sadly, he can’t communicate through them to you.

Also, know that he will also cook for you, an ability as your mate which is important to possess. Showing you that he can feed you, so you’re getting home-cooked meals.

Taking you on flights, sorry if you’re terrified of heights because it’s an excuse for you to cling to him. Just joking, he wouldn’t take you on flights if you’re terrified. But if you’re not, he’ll show up on your balcony at ungodly hours of the morning to take you to watch the sunrise.

Picnics in Yavanna’s flower fields, swimming in Ilmarin’s pools, requesting for gifts from Aüle or asking Manwё to make you a cloud so you can sit on because he’s that whipped for you.

He’s serious from start to end about courting you and his façade never drops because he’s true about his feelings and love for you.

Masterlist

Taglist: @edensrose @cilil @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @starborne0661 @floraroselaughter @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese

[aurabird]

A Search For Belonging

Chapter 10: Shenanigans

In which Xornoth finds himself roped into more pranks and activities

Ao3 Link | Masterpost

---------------  

The next few days were mostly uneventful for Xornoth aside from the occasional antics going on in Boatem that he bore witness to.

There was now a dirt structure Scar had built spiraling into the sky and ending right above the Boatem Hole and a strange-but-nevertheless-mind-blowing flying machine in the sky between Mumbo’s base and Midnight Alley. Both new additions being the result of messing with Grian while the avian was in a meditative state.

On top of that, Xornoth had watched Grian remove several black banners placed by the Big Eye’s crew advertising their iron shop, an establishment apparently sponsored by Mumbo himself.

There really was never a dull moment in Boatem.

Today, however, would hopefully be more eventful for Xornoth personally as he made his way over to the Swaggon by Scar’s request. Apparently, his fellow Hermit had something for him, a hat to be specific.

“So I didn’t exactly know what you’d like but given what you have told us and the plans for your base I managed to make something that I really hope you enjoy.” Scar explained as they entered the hat shop.

“If it’s anything like the hats I’ve seen on the others I’m sure it’s amazing, Scar.”

It was true, the hats that every other member of Boatem now wore had been beautifully made and Xornoth was excited to see what Scar had made for him.

“Well, if there’s anything about it that you don’t like I’m perfectly fine with changing it. Are you ready to see?”

“I am.”

At the confirmation Scar grabbed something off a hook behind him and turned around with a dramatic flourish, presenting the hat in question.

Xornoth had expected it to be a crown of some sort as a throwback to the fact Empiria was a land of monarchs. Instead, it was modeled after a sheep wearing a silver circlet on its head, a dopey look in its beady eyes that made it absolutely adorable.

A smile crossed his face at the sight, “Scar…I love it.” 

“Oh thank goodness!” Scar sighed in relief as Xornoth took the hat from him to get a closer look, “I was so nervous that I would trigger a bad memory or something with the crown on its head and all! I hope it fits, it's a bit hard to design something for a person with antlers, you know?”

“Only one way to find out.” Xornoth said before turning to a mirror on the wall and putting the hat on, finding it fit perfectly between the growths on his head and making his smile grow even wider at just how perfect it seemed to match him.

After leaving the Hat Shop and making his way back to the central area of Boatem Xornoth noticed the giant sign that read ‘Octagon’ that was now a part of the long-legged monstrosity that was selling things on Boatem’s coast.

The voices of Grian and Impulse then reached his ears, the former sounding very annoyed compared to usual.

As the two Hermits in question came into view Xornoth was able to see why. The Octagon sign wasn’t the only advertisement in Boatem, every other establishment with the exception of Horse-Head Farms had left something in the village square.

“...advertise and bring people here. Oh look, it's Xornoth!”

“Hey you guys. What are you two up to?”

“First off, I love your hat.” Grian began with a smile, “And secondly, I’ve got a really good idea for marketing! We just have to decide who we’re going to do it to”

“Is this…aggressive marketing?” Impulse asked.

“It is very in-your-face marketing.”

“Oh I love it.”

“Oooh, so we just have to pick someone then right?” Xornoth questioned.

Grian nodded, “Well we’ve got Octagon, Rons, the Evil Emporium, and Cleo who all think its fine to advertise here so we can definitely advertise there.”

After several minutes of back-and-forth chatter and Impulse darting off to gather several shulkers of logs Xornoth and Grian found themselves over at the Octagon atop a platform the latter Grian had constructed above the shop.

“I don’t exactly know if this is going to work the way I think it’s going to work.” Grian admitted as he began to build.

“Yeah, how exactly do you have this in your head?” Xornoth questioned.

“Redstone.” Grian finished as he placed two observers and a dispenser down; the latter component beginning to activate as it got a signal. “There. Stage one is complete.”

Impulse arrived with the shulkers of requested logs and Grian was quick to explain how his plan would work as he began to craft several boats, shrinking them to a smaller size and then tossing them into a hopper that had been placed above the firing dispenser.

Xornoth laughed with Impulse as he watched the component spit the boats back out at full size, instantly dropping them down into the shop below and causing several stacks to begin forming.

“Now we just take this to the extreme!” Grian cackled with devious glee at the flawless execution of his plan.

The trio went on to ‘boat bomb’ Big Eyes Bay, this time letting the boats all occupy the same spot as opposed to letting them spread out. Once finished, they settled down on the nearby mountainside and waited for one of the residents to investigate the prank. It wasn’t long before Tango showed up and proceeded to cause all the boats to explode in every direction.

Roaring laughter resounded from the three members of Boatem at the display, “That was SO MUCH faster than I expected it to be!” Grian exclaimed.

After they had managed to compose themselves they flew down to greet Tango, the half-blazeborn now thoroughly flustered. “Buy at Boatem!” Grian laughed before proceeding to hop around on the many boats in the water, Xornoth and Impulse following suit.

“I will remember this!” Tango threatened with a grin, caught up in laughing himself as he joined in on the boat-hopping antics, everyone getting stuck between the wooden vessels occasionally.

After a farewell to Tango the trio took off, returning to their original plans for the day. Xornoth landed in the center of New Rivendell with a massive smile on his face and was more than energized to build the storage building he had planned so that he could finally move all his resources from his house and various other random locations strewn about the mountain, into one dedicated place.

-

Xornoth had spent most of the following morning preparing for the long, arduous process of moving and sorting his items into the now-finished storage building and decided to take a break to check the Boatem group chat to see if he’d missed any messages while he had been working. Scrolling up to the last message he read, two Mumbo had sent earlier caught his eye. 

<MumboJumbo> errr guys

<MumboJumbo> the boatem hole has bedrock in it

Xornoth looked at the image sent in the chat and was confused. He knew bedrock didn’t simply regenerate, be it through magic or otherwise and it prompted him to go check it out for himself after putting all his gear and supplies into his enderchest.

Even if bedrock had once again sealed up the hole into the void, Xornoth wasn’t going to take any chances. He wasn’t procrastinating, that would be nonsense.

Upon his arrival to the scene Xornoth dared to look down into the Boatem Hole and, just like Mumbo had said, the area that normally led to the void was once again covered in bedrock.

Curious, he decided to descend into the depths to investigate the strange phenomenon, setting his feet down on the layer of bedrock…

…and falling through immediately after.

Xornoth let out a panicked yelp as he tried to stabilize, but to no avail as his wings did not react fast enough. The inky blackness of the void filled his lungs, suffocating him; waves of pain flaring through his entire body as he was pulled further down into the abyss.

Xornoth fell out of the world

He jolted awake in his bed with a gasp, panting heavily as he took in fresh air. His communicator pinged multiple times in quick succession as he recovered from the traumatic respawn, no doubt Hermits worried about him. He quickly shot a message in the chat saying he was fine and that he didn’t lose anything except a bit of pride.

Once the post-mortem effects had worn off Xornoth got out of bed and figured that he already decided that he would not actually move everything into his storage building today so, he may as well just fly around and see what the other Hermits were up to.

Again, definitely not procrastinating at all, he just needed to interact more with his fellow Hermits outside of Boatem.

His flight took him to various locations to try and find Hermits to interact with and Xornoth found himself roped up in a game he’d never heard of before known as Leaf Spleef with Cub, Joe, and Cleo, getting to know them better in the process. It was nice, to be able to just goof around and have fun without any real responsibility or a kingdom to eventually run.

The sun had begun to set by the time he had begun to make his way back to Boatem, flying over Big-Eyes bay and seeing it still covered in boats.

As Xornoth passed over the Evil Emporium, the one shop he never really visited often since most of his supplies were easy to harvest himself, he took notice of the individual pacing in front of the stairs, red armor contrasted against a deepslate and blackstone building with a glass orb atop it.

Curious to talk to the one Hermit he knew so little about, Xornoth descended, landing a bit away from Exiel before approaching.

“Um…hi?” He began in greeting, “I hope I’m not interrupting anything. I was just passing through on my way back to Boatem and saw you pacing; thought I might as well take the chance to speak with you since you’re like, the only Hermit I have had no interactions with at all.”

Exiel turned to him, red eyes meeting Xornoth’s own and causing the elf to freeze up. He could almost picture veins of crimson marring the voidkind’s skin under the armor, pulsating with dark power that drove the corrupted individual to madness and…

“Oh, you're the elf they recently adopted.”

The blunt remark snapped Xornoth from his spiraling thoughts and back to reality, “Uh….yeah. That’s me, I’m Xornoth.”

“Well, Xornoth. Welcome to my humble abode I suppose. And no, I’m just frustrated at my stupid brother installing a machine at Octagon that completely ruins the entire point of the Hermits buying derpcoin from the Emporium!”

Xornoth let out a chuckle, “Brothers, am I right?”

The comment made Exiel give him a quizzical look, “You have a brother too?”

“I do. We aren’t as close anymore though, not like we were before destiny and fate tore us apart for the sake of prophecy.”

“‘Suma and I weren’t as close as we are now, you know. I resented my brother and what he had so I found myself aligned with a malicious individual who convinced me that the solution to my problem was to embrace it and destroy everything that Xisuma knew. I tried for many years but deep down I had started to grow fond of the band of misfits and runaways he surrounded himself with and began to realize that what I was doing was wrong. After everything I’d done though, I felt I had no chance at forgiveness so I banished myself to wallow in my own pity. When I came crawling back to Xisuma I was desperate for purpose, I never expected forgiveness from him, let alone the invitation to join the Hermits…but here I am, I suppose. If there was hope for me to redeem myself, then there’s probably hope for you and your brother as well.”

Xornoth gave a bittersweet smile, “It’s a nice thought, but Scott probably thinks I’m dead and after everything I did to him and those he called his friends, redemption and forgiveness are no longer an option for me.” he paused a moment before continuing, “But it’s fine, I have all the Hermits now. After decades of being a pawn of destiny, I am finally free to do whatever I want, to be my own person with my own choices.”

A sly grin crossed Exiel’s face at Xornoth’s words, “Well, how about you use that freedom to make your own choices and buy something with that Derpcoin my brother gave you a while back?”

A laugh escaped Xornoth at the comment, “I blew it all buying wood at Octagon for the boat bomb prank we did there and at Big-Eyes Bay.”

“You realize that you buying the wood from them is a win in their eyes, right?”

“Yes, but it was hilarious all the same. Grian is debating hitting up this place next you know? Perhaps, if you give me some derpcoin I can convince him to spare you guys?~”

“You’ve been hanging around with Scar too much. You’re picking up on his marketing habits.”

Xornoth smiled, “I’m only joking, we will probably hit Big-Eyes bay for the bedrock fiasco next.” he tossed two of the diamonds he’d won from Leaf Spleef earlier to Exiel, “How much derpcoin will that get me?”

A few derpcoin richer, Xornoth bid farewell to Exiel and continued to make his way back to Boatem, landing on the balcony of his house and going inside to freshen up as the moon began to cast its glow on the land below. 

Before he settled down for the night he checked to see what he’d missed in the main and Boatem chats.

<Grian> Who’s up for getting back at Big-Eyes Bay tomorrow?

<ImpulseSV> I’m in!

<MumboJumbo> Same

<GoodTimeWithScar> Can’t, was invited to test the horse course with Bdubs and Etho.

<Grian> No worries. Xornoth, are you up for more pranking?

Xornoth, feeling bad he’d missed most of the conversation typed out his response

<Xornoth> Sorry for the late reply, I was busy most of today. Definitely in; dying to the void this morning was the worst.

With his message sent, Xornoth silenced his communicator and called it for the night, looking forward to the pranking of Big Eyes bay…

…and still denying that it was an excuse to get out of moving everything into his storage building.

[masterqwertster]

Soul Bloom AU

Also known as the fic Full-time Soulmates, Part-time Problems

This is mostly the behind-the-scenes lots of mechanics and stuff from my author's notes and comment replies

Who Blooms What

Ages (as of Campaign 3) and Flowers: Chetney- 400+ dogwood (credit SalamanderMeander) Laudna- 53 marigold Ashton- 30 thistle (I selected/guessed age) Orym- 34-35 lavender (credit SalamanderMeander) Imogen- 28 camelia Dorian- 27 blue orchid Fearne- 14/112 belladonna FCG- 4/1000? sunflower Fy'ra Rai- 33 fire lily (I selected/guessed age) Dariax- 27 dandelion Opal- 19 rose (starts pink, turns black upon either attuning to the Circlet of Barbed Vision or agreeing to be the Spider Queen's Champion Deanna- 200+ lotus FRIDA- 2/1000? gerbera daisy (green, possibly some blue and yellow upon dating FCG)

Soulmate Groups

Bells Hells

The Crown Keepers (Morrighan and Cyrus not included)

Deanna & FRIDA

Term to Know

Poke- pricking the hand to make a bloom appear on a soulmate

How Soul Blooms Work

Soul blooms are magic and don't create "real" flowers. In practice this means that they lack medicinal or poisonous properties and will dissipate into the ether once they leave a roughly one foot radius of the person they bloomed from, as well as only having a scent to those in the soulmate group (which makes stealthing still feasible when you don't/can't leave a trail of suspicious petals laying around or be covered in stinky flowers). Soul blooms also never wither, so if you can manage to keep a bloom within that radius, it'll last as long as you do.

You can't use soul blooms for divination magic. Or at least, not as the only targeting focus. Like, a soul bloom can help you hone in on the soulmate for a Scry spell, but if you try to scry on a soulmate you've never met using the bloom, you'll get nothing because it connects to the sender and everyone who receives them (including the person it bloomed on), thus confusing the spell.

Soul blooms occur when a person bleeds from an injury into open air as blooms inside the body would be bad, and bruises are, technically, internal bleeding. I count inside of the mouth, nose, and ears as internal as well, in that while there is still exposure to the outside, it would be highly inconvenient to life-threatening to have flowers bloom there. Airways need to be clear and many flowers do not fit inside the ear canal.

Things like wings, horns, and tails, which not all races have, bloom at the point of contact. Like tail injuries bloom on the tail bone of those without a tail, horn injuries wherever the base of the horn would be on the soulmate, wings at the shoulder blade connection point, etc. And the blooms are more about volume in that space than the details of the injury, so the soulmates without those body parts get more of an idea of severity than anything.

 The Matron of Ravens would get the job of over seeing soul blooms as part of the Fate domain. The correct understanding of her domain in regards to soul blooms is that she protects their sanctity. Magics that would block or falsify a bond are a Big No-No, much like grand necromancy is against Death. The Matron of Ravens does not assign soulmates, just protects the function of the bonds. Much like how she's not the arbiter of Death but a shepherd of passed souls, or minder of Fate's weave but not actually forcing the strings.

Blooms will never change their type of flower (example: baby's breath to dahlias), but can change their coloration (example: red rose to white rose) in accordance to big life/personality changes

Social Customs

Belly buttons are the first scar of most human(oid)s. So older soulmates get what could be colloquially called a "birth bloom" in their bellybutton from the detachment of the umbilical cord. Races that don't have bellybuttons, mainly the avian and reptilian races, will often have a ritualistic prick of the child upon birth to announce their presence to theoretic soulmates, if the eggshell doesn't nick them in the hatching. Traditionally, once a birth bloom is noticed, the soulmates will poke back. Children younger than 10 will be pricked on the back of the hand, usually by the parents/guardians. Those older than ten will prick a finger tip, usually the pointer, though some will select a different finger. And because some races live centuries, tradition also has an additional fingertip prick for each century lived as an indicator for that extreme age difference and what races one's soulmate could be.

Two other reasons exist for back of the hand pokes:

Infirmness: the individual who is to send a poke as either a request to be poked back or to poke back themself is in a condition that makes it difficult or impossible for them to perform the prick without doing more damage than necessary. It's sort of the same premise as children under 10 are discouraged from poking on their own: you don't want people full-on stabbing their own hand.

Chain Pokes:  in larger soulmate groups, finding other members is signified by clasping hands and pricking each other on the back of those clasped hands simultaneously. Or in larger congregations that aren't the full group, making a chain-loop of clasping the next person's wrist for the simultaneous poke. Technically, doing it to each other isn't necessary, but most enjoy the intimate ritual to it.

Probably one of the worst social taboos (of any Soulmate AU) is to intentionally and maliciously harm your soulmate. It's not something that's going to happen too often, given the nature of soulmates is someone who loves you wholly in some capacity (romantic, platonic, familial, a mixture), but it can happen. Usually after a metric-fuck-ton of trauma that crushes empathy and compassion and capacity for love gets involved.

[randominternetartist]

Never In Heart - Out of the Frying Pan

Co-written with @emburrae! They're an amazing friend and co-author who just made a Tumblr account. It is very fun writing with them

Read on AO3

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Friends may be apart in distance, but never in heart Technoblade escaped, but the butcher army still hasn't given up on finding and killing him And they still Phil knows where he is

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Quackity gasps and his eyes shoot open. A piece of dirt falls from the ceiling above him and lands on his cheek. He doesn’t catch the last moments of its fall.

His breathing turns uneven and ragged as he processes more of his environment. The ground is warm and wet and it sticks to his hand when it twitches. He closes his eyes and tries to even out his breaths.

In for four. His breath hitches after a second.

Hold. His chest convulses weakly, trying to suck in air.

Out for four. He can’t help but take small breaths.

Repeat. Instead he feels the way his lips don’t touch, the way one of his teeth isn’t there anymore. He brings a hand up his face and traces his upper lip. A part of it is missing. He traces a line from the top of the missing part. The skin is sunken and leathery. There are lines going across from left to right raised inside the… scar line.

He traces it up and up and stops just before his eye. His breath hitches with a sound that sounds too much like a sob.

Some of his fingers rest above his left eye and he opens it.

It’s dark. His hand looks shrouded in shadows he knows aren’t there. The hallway is dark but not that dark. He can’t see the details on the palm of his hand, or the edge of where his hand and the ceiling meet. It looks like a seamless transition.

Then his attention shifts to his peripheral vision and he notices he can’t see anything.

His other eye opens as he finishes tracing the scar —it almost reaches his hairline— then falls back on the blood-covered ground with a wet thud.

He can see the cave more clearly now. He looks at the edges of his vision again. On the right side he can see the wall, the gray stone and brown dirt. As he changes his focus to the left side, his vision becomes blurry, dark, and at the edge, he can see nothing but blackness.

He lost half his vision. He lost half his vision!

His breathing picks up once again. Fuck fuck! No this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, thiscantbehappening! It’s fine, it’s just the adrenaline, his eye is still healing, he’s gonna be okay.

A vwoop interrupts his thoughts and he tilts his head to the source of the noise.

Purple particles drift to the ground, casting a small light on the darkest parts of the cavern, fighting the bright torchlight for a chance to be seen. Some get their chance on the reflections of the eyes and the circlet of the person standing among them.

A golden circlet sits among a mass of black and white hair, divided perfectly in the middle. The circlet dips down along the line of the divide, two golden wires twisting around each other to make the shape of a sideways eye, holding an Eye of Ender in the middle. The metal wire is thin and shines with the glow of enchantments.

A weight disappears from Quackity’s chest as recognition dawns on him.

Ranboo looks at him and his eyes widen upon seeing the wound on Quackity’s face. The plan failed. Technoblade had gotten away and Quackity had been injured when he tried to pursue him.

“Q!” Ranboo says, quickly making his way to Quackity’s side. Quackity tries to get up, but slips on the pool of red liquid under him. He falls with a groan.

“Don’t move, Quackity, you’re gonna be fine.” Ranboo trails off when he looks at Quackity’s eye. “You’ll be just fine,” he whispers, kneeling by the older man’s side.

A laugh rises from the avian’s chest, high-pitched and staggered. Ranboo gently lifts Quackity’s head and upper body a little bit. “I’m not hurt,” he chokes out in between sobs.

“Q, you’re bleeding, you-”

“I died.” Tears began to fall from his eyes again as he cut off Ranboo. Sorrow and hurt curl around his heart and it aches with painful emotions.

Technoblade has hurt him so many times.

Quackity runs through a field. He can hear Technoblade behind him.

“Do you know how humans hunt their prey in prehistoric times, Quackity?” Techno says, his voice a deep rumble. “Their prey would run and they’d follow behind, slowly and steadily.”

How long has he been running?

Quackity trips and falls to the ground. He tries to get up but his limbs don’t respond, they just shake with exhaustion.

“Are you feeling tired, Quackity?” Techo’s voice is closer now and the avian sees his shadow getting nearer.

He turns his head to look at the pigling. He’s walking towards Quackity, sword dragging behind him. Quackity tries to crawl away but his hunter steps on his leg. Quackity yelps.

The weight lifts, but he doesn’t dare move.

Pain flares on his other leg and he feels the tip of a sword— Techno’s sword— be dragged up his body.

Quackity looks at Technoblade again. The man’s red eyes shine with bloodlust as he tries and fails to fight a smile. “Do you feel safe after I did what you told me to, Quackity?”

Techno lifts his sword and Quackity shuts his eyes, shaking his head quickly.

White hot pain flares on his back and he screams. It hurts, it burns.

The avian swears he can feel the fire aspect enchantment try to set his skin on fire.

A clawed hand lifts up his chin and Quackity opens his eyes.

A hand presses his face into the ground as hot breath washes over his ear.

“Sometimes fear’s good.” The hand disappears and through the haze of pain, Quackity can hear Techno walking away, laughing his loud, rumbling laughter.

Persistence hunting.

“Techno I need you to take him out,” Schlatt said as he stepped aside.

“Technoblade?!” Tubbo asked as he pressed his back up against the concrete walls, fear evident in his voice.

Quackity stood next to Schlatt as he watched Technoblade aim his loaded crossbow at the young faun who had once been Schlatt’s right-hand man.

“Tubbo, I’m sorry. I’ll make it as painless, and colorful as possible, Tubbo,” Technoblade said and he pulled the trigger.

It all happened at once: the sound of the firework launching, the bang, the explosion of color, the scream’s start and abrupt end.

Tubbo’s body collapsed against the fence as Technoblade quickly reloaded his crossbow, turned to the left, and fired on Schlatt before reloading again, turning to his right, and shooting Quackity.

Pain bloomed on his shoulder and he screamed. It hurt so much that it felt as if a bag of hot coal was dropped on his body. He watched Techno shoot into the crowd and run, jumping off the stage. He saw the blood; the crowd’s, his, Schlatt’s, Tubbo’s. There was so much blood.

Quackity felt lightheaded. Schlatt wasn’t moving. Tubbo wasn’t moving. He was alone on the stage with the exception of two dead bodies.

He felt lightheaded. His ears rang and the screams of the crowd were doing him no favours.

He saw Techno leave, flying off with his trident.

The festival.

A dark cave.

“I HAVE A PICKAXE, QUACKITY, AND I’LL PUT IT THROUGH YOUR TEETH! I’LL PUT IT THROUGH YOUR TEETH!”

Thirty fucking minutes ago.

Again and again, Techno hurt him. Sometimes just for the sake of it. Just because he thought it would be funny.

Quackity brings a hand to wipe away his tears as pain and grief turn into anger.

He curls his hand into a fist.

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

Phil sits on the balcony. One of his legs stretched out in front of him. The other is bent, knee poking out of the balcony and ankle resting on top of his other leg, keeping his foot in the boundaries of the balcony.

He looks at the sky. A vast sea of blue deeper than any ocean, and he wishes he could fly. But his wings are torn, his soul, her gift to him, are damaged forever; an eternal reminder of his own worst failures and mistakes.

A part of him tells him to swing his legs over the edge. A small act of rebellion, a step closer to the freedom he craves. But he knows he can’t, not without the ankle monitor telling he has “gone over the boundaries” and beeping as if its life depended on how loud and annoying it could be. And if it did, that thing would live for a hundred centuries.

He sighs and spreads his wings a little more. The breeze is cool and feels nice on his feathers, it sends a jolt of pain to the scarred ends of his wings. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react, only spreads his feathers further apart. The pain feels nice in some twisted way, but he doesn’t know why.

He looks back at his house. He sees his neatly made bed, next to it is his broken lamp laying on the floor and some shattered glass near the top step of the stairs. He knows that there is more glass on the bottom floor. Courtesy of Quackity smashing his windows even though he was already inside of the house.  

He sighs. They searched his house inside out and left a mess in their wake. Well, it’s not like he has anything better to do than to clean it up.

He gets up and walks to the stairs, careful not to step on any glass or other debris. He grabs a broom and a wooden box from one of the corners in the house and takes it upstairs. He’s not sure why, he just wants to start with his room; and maybe that’s why, because it’s his room. His space that should be safe.

Phil picks up the ceramic shards of the broken lamp. Some pieces are small with splotches of blue with no discernable shape. Some are bigger and have visible parts of vines or flowers, but nothing too clear. There are two big shards where it is possible to see the overall pattern. He holds them in his hand for a while, looking at the blue petals and swirling patterns. It reminds him of Wilbur. Something broken but still beautiful, still worth cherishing.

The shards don’t really have a lot of curve to them. Maybe he can make some kind of mural with them.

He places the shard in the box.

When he is done, there is only white ceramic dust left on the ground, which he sweeps up with the broom.

He hears a knock on his door. He pauses for a moment before walking downstairs. The possibilities of who it could be go through his head. Tommy is exiled, Techno ran away, Sam, Ponk and Eret have no business with him so that’s unlikely. It could be them, though, it could also be Niki, or the Butcher Army looking for something else.

Phil really wishes for it not to be that last option. He rests the broom on the wall and opens the door.

Quackity, holding a crossbow, stands in front of him with Fundy and Ranboo just behind.

Speak of the devil.

[ao3feed-crimeboys]

And if you're feeling lonely, you should tell me

by staraeia

That is, until Philza said, “We have more than just ourselves to celebrate today, though.”

Moving aside, the blonde emperor gestured someone forward. The world slowed to a crawl with every second passing like an eternity as recognition lit Tommy’s eyes.

Brown curls, neatly trimmed and tucked underneath a golden circlet. Golden, like his eyes, glowing with pride and elation behind circular wire-rim glasses perched upon his pert nose. A slim, but healthy figure donning formal attire that perfectly accented sky-blue wings. Taller than the two rulers, whom he looked to for support.

Wilbur.

Tommy choked on an inhuman sound that tried to worm its way out of his throat at the sight. It was wrong, so very wrong, and yet, fate had always been cruel to him. Who would have guessed that the very people Tommy had been hunting down would be the fucking tyrants of the Antarctic Empire. The two most dangerous people in the country, the two people he had been fighting against just to pass the time, were the ones to steal his brother. Ironic, wasn’t it?

Tommy wanted to spit obscenities as Philza announced, “May we introduce the newly crowned Prince of the Antarctic Empire, Wilbur Craft."

Words: 8720, Chapters: 1/2, Language: English

Fandoms: Dream SMP

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: Gen

Characters: TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot, Phil Watson | Philza, Niki | Nihachu, Toby Smith | Tubbo

Relationships: Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Niki | Nihachu & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit

Additional Tags: Dark Sleepy Bois Inc, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings, forced family, Forced adoption, Avian TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Avian Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Animal Instincts, Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation

[calciumcryptid]

This is about the character, not the content creator.

Dream SMP Headcanons:

TechnoBlade Edition

Techno was born in a Crimson Forest, and grew up eating the fungi there. Due to this, he is vegetarian and hates eating meat.

The majority of piglins aren't expected to make it to adulthood, so most of Techno's childhood was moving around and protecting himself.

Techno, like all Piglins, has a strong attachment to gold. In fact, gold armor is the equivalent of diamond for him.

Techno has a tendency to hoard gold, but due to having to move around a lot he turned the gold into jewelry for him to wear.

Techno grew attached to Philza because he mistook the man's hair for gold. He followed Philza because Techno was curious about the man's wings (he didn't float or go through blocks like a ghast, it was insane!)

It took Philza a while to convince Techno to touch grass. Techno immediately hated the sensation of grass on his hooves.

Philza just brought Techno home with him to where he and Wilbur stayed. Wilbur lost his mind at the idea of having a brother.

Techno didn't have a choice in the adoption. Wilbur, upon learning Techno's age was unknown due to no concept of time in the nether, just declared they were twins.

Techno taught himself how to speak Villager by reading books. The first book he ever completed was The Art of War.

Due to the differences in Nether and Overworld fighting styles, Techno got an upper hand during fighting competitions.

The SBI house was by the ocean. This was how Sally met Wilbur and by extension Techno met Squidkid.

Squidkid was the one who introduced Techno to potatoes as a food source and taught Techno how to grow them. Techno eventually challenged Squidkid's status as the number one potato farmer which lead to the Great Potato World.

During a mining trip, Techno ran into a ravine inhabited by Golems. There he met Skeppy, a Diamond Golem trickster.

Surprisingly, the two got along well and set up a trade system between them that got the SBI a good influx of diamonds and Skeppy plenty of food and building materials.

Techno, like Skeppy, can crunch straight through rocks. This is why Techno consumes golden carrots.

Techno was the one who introduced Skeppy to the Nether, and taught him the truck of using the roof to travel the safest. It was on the Nether Roof where Skeppy met BadBoyHalo.

Techno was the best man at BBH and Skeppy's wedding, his best man speech goes similar to the Conner and Minx one.

Techno figured out the mother of Philza's kids was Kristen, better known as Lady Death.

As a reward for his mix of strategic and fighting skills, Kristen granted him the title of Blood God. This made Techno functionally immortal alongside Philza, but since Techno wasn't the child or lover of a god the ritual sort of backfired into creating the chat.

The crown upon Techno's head, which I imagine more of a fancy gold circlet, was first given to him as a child by Philza who enchanted it so he could go to the Overworld without being zombiefied. It later was enchanted by Kristen to help Techno reign in his bloodlust.

Techno was the one who taught Tommy how to fight. Techno at first tried to teach Tommy a battle style that would fit Tommy's stature, but Tommy was insistent that he could fight like Techno and be better at it.

This lead to Tommy being "bad" at fighting.

Tommy and Techno went hunting once, which lead Tommy's first kill to be a raccoon. I draw Tommy with a raccoon hat, this is where it comes from.

Wilbur and Techno would stay up into the late hours of the night talking about psychology and philosophy.

Techno got along with Philza and Kristen better than Tommy and Wilbur which caused Techno to not see Tommy and Wilbur as brothers.

Techno actually met Ranboo before the canon events, not that either remember. Techno found a weird ghast enderman hybrid and fed it a golden apple. Ranboo teleported away from him, but they did technically meet.

Techno and Dream met in a weird way. Dream was going to have a dramatic introduction where he declares Techno as his rival when in reality Dream fell off a building and Techno was so frightened that he blacked out during their conversation.

It wasn't until the rivalry was publicized that Techno realized what exactly he agreed to. Techno also quickly realized he had a lot more to lose than Dream did so his anxiety will go absolutely insane when he is around Dream.

Now onto more canon aligned headcanons:

Techno and Niki get along so well because they both know what it is like to have the smallest voice be theirs. They also speak the platonic love language of quality time so it isn't weird to see Niki baking with Techno reading near by.

Techno refers to Ranboo as the Blood Prince in his head, but he'll never admit this.

Techno can speak Villager, Pigllager, Aquatic (Squidkid), Avian (Philza), and Engar (Ranboo).

Due to Techno's first interaction with Dream being Dream falling off a roof, Techno isn't intimidated by Dream at all.

Techno has a tendency to forget that Philza is married to Death herself, so he is always a little shocked when Philza talks to gods so casually.

Techno will still think that being handed gold means the other person wants to trade. It is awkward explaining this.

Piglins like to drape their love ones in gold, so Techno will give golden ornaments to his loved ones. He has given Wilbur a black guitar with golden lining, Tommy swords with a golden handle, Philza and Kristen plenty of golden jewelry, Ranboo golden quills, and Niki golden baking utensils. He also gives golden apples to animals around him, and dresses Carl, Steve, and Blitz in golden collars and armor.

Techno has Thanatophobia, the fear of death.

[ettawritesnstudies]

Find the Word Tag

Thanks @writeblrfantasy!

glass

The god’s chosen. It had a nice ring to it, the title she should have earned at the Trials all those years ago. A deep-seated satisfaction filled her stomach, not just from being full of food. She could be the chosen one, for the good of the city, and because it was what she deserved. She raised her wine glass again, a silent toast, to her own reign, before downing the contents in one drink.

shine

Luca glowed at Acheran’s words, “close friends.” Then puzzlement replaced his joy at the idea of winning over a new person. Did he really have no other friends? As far as he knew, the stoic Avian didn’t like anyone. Surely, he’d know people from his trade … Come to think of it, why did the asocial avian run a shopfront in the first place? Luca realized that despite the months they’d spent working alongside each other, he’d learned very little about Acheran’s personal life. Before he’d consider those topics off-limits, respecting his professional and private nature. Luca understood the interest in avoiding prying questions as well as anyone else with a secret, but now burning curiosity replaced confusion and he wondered if the clarification as “close friends” would justify trying to draw out Acheran some more. He would like to better know the person who gave their family a rare second chance.

Acheran kept talking as he sorted and pocketed the ones he wanted to keep, “Nearly all of these have at least a little worth, if only because of their natural shine. I should call you my crows.”

rust

gold

Anda held her hand out to Luca. He unfastened the buttons of his cuffs and rolled back the baggy sleeves of his shirt to reveal a fractal pattern of burn scars arcing over his forearms. They gave off a soft golden glow as he summoned his magic. It pooled in the palm of his hands like liquid gold, and he let the energy fall into his mother’s waiting hand. It sparked on contact with her fingers and arced in bright blue fractals, illuminating the sharp angles of her dark face, dozens of waist length braids she pulled back in a tail, and the silver circlet of her marriage paint around her neck. She carefully channeled the magic from her fingertips into a chamber in the floor, pushing the magic through the hidden mechanisms of the lock. The packed earth lit up with patterns.

I've done about a million of these so OPEN TAG

[duskcrown]

      the  princess  nodded  in  response,  idle  hands  now  occupied  as  she  scratched  the  raven  familiar  that  perches  in  her  lap  beneath  it’s  dark  feathers,  already  having  formed  a  quiet  kinship  with  the  disguised  fey  creature.    did  the  bird  recognise  the  delicate  circlet  curving  around  her  head  like  another  crown?    iridescent  gaze  flickered  to  meet  his  stare,  soft  brows  uptilted  in  regard  at  his  statement.    ❛ is  it  that  obvious? ❜    a  melancholic  smile  falters  upon  her  lips,  though  she  drops  her  head  and  returns  all  attention  to  the  fussy  raven.    why  was  it  that  whenever  she  thought  of  home,  it  felt  as  though  any  light  within  her  died  out?    a  sigh  escapes  her,  always  more  than  willing  to  share  her  true  emotions.    she  of  bleeding  heart.    ❛ i  don’t  mean  to  sound  spoilt, ❜    she  visibly  cringes  as  the  word  passes  her  lips,  reminded  of  her  aunt’s  words  when  the  huntress  had  casually  mentioned  leaving  to  study  and  explore  the  world  before  being  crowned.    it  wasn’t  that  she  never  wished  to  return  —  enke  dalen  was  her  kingdom,  her  home,  her  loved  ones.    but  the  pressure  upon  her  shoulders,  the  battle  between  tradition  and  her  desire  to  improve  the  kingdom  for  its  people,  was  just  too  much  for  her  people-pleasing  tendencies.    ❛ i  understand  i  have  a  privilege  that  many  don’t…    but  i  didn’t  want  to  be  another  isolated  queen.    i  simply  wished  to  see  the  world  whilst  i  had  the  chance,  to  find  love  and  companionship,  and  learn  ways  to  help  build  my  home  to  better  it.    i  will  return  one  day,  however. ❜    it  felt  bizarre  to  talk  about  for  astraea;    not  many  seemed  to  believe  her  whenever  she  mentioned  of  her  being  a  princess,  but  she  knew  it  was  true  —  and  she  believed  that  the  truth  radiated  in  her  aura.    the  bird  familiar  chatters  as  she  had  paused  her  caressing  of  it’s  feathers,  lost  in  that  airy,  daydreaming  mind  of  hers  for  a  moment.    but  the  gentle,  impatient  nip  of  it’s  beak  against  her  hand  brings  her  back  from  the  dreams  with  a  playful  frown  at  the  avian,  blinking  wide  opalescent  eyes  and  composing  herself  as  if  she  hadn’t  just  spilt  her  emotions  for  kai.    curious  soul  instead  perks  up,  visibly  brightening  as  she  focuses  on  him  now.    ❛ you  sound  as  if  you  speak  from  experience? ❜

♡   —   kai wildgazer … @wandyrlust​​   :   ❛ you wanted to be free. ❜

[thecreaturecodex]

Skeksis

“Skeksis Portrait” © deviantArt user “GeniusFetus”, accessed at his gallery here

[Commissioned by @menaceomysterio​. I’ve been idly contemplating how to stat up a Skeksis for about as long as I’ve been making monsters. The trick is, they don’t have a lot of inherent abilities. Their power comes from their social position and the Dark Crystal itself, and the various magitech that they’ve built around it. So I decided to make them a playable race. Like the yaddithian in Bestiary 6, since they’re few in number and ancient, I gave the sample a fair amount of levels.]

Skeksis CR 9 NE Outsider (native) This humanoid creature combines the most repulsive features of avians and reptiles. It has a bald head with a few patches of ratty feathers, a hooked beak with small sharp teeth, and small clutching hands. Despite its hideousness, it carries itself with the bearing of a king, and is clad in finery. It has a penetrating stare.

The skeksis are a race of manipulators and tyrants. Although they are few in number, they have an outsized influence on the world around them, as they are adept at wheedling into the workings of society. They often claim to have godlike power and responsibility, but are ultimately petty and venal. Their bodies are literally falling apart, and they disguise their frailty with elaborate and ostentatious clothing and ornaments. Skeksis have a set of wings, but these are almost useless. Most skeksis use them to support their equipment and vestments, seeing them as an unpleasant reminder of their origins.

The origins of the skeksis are in conflict and division. Once they were a race of angelic four armed humanoids known as urSkeks, who descended to the Material World to learn how mortal life conducted itself. Some of these urSkeks went native and fell in love with worldly pleasures. When the portal to return them home was reopened, the renegades used its energy to instead rid themselves of their higher restraint and become creatures of passion and desire. This physically tore the urSkeks apart; the contemplative and peaceful side became known as the uRu, and the passionate aspect the skeksis. For every skeksis, there is an uRu, but the skeksis cannot truly rid themselves of the memory of their enlightenment—if one of the dyad is slain, the other dies.

Skeksis culture is dedicated entirely to self enrichment and empowerment. They live in palaces, not homes, and have feasts, not meals. Skeksis tend to cooperate with one another, but this is fraught with conflict and political maneuvering. Failure is punished with humiliation and exile. Skeksis are slavers, and if their slaves do not obey naturally, they will be forced to through magical compulsions or fleshwarped into more pleasing or useful forms. Skeksis are master fleshwarpers, and several horrible species are their creations. All skeksis fear death with a dedication achieving mania, and they will literally kill an entire world to protect themselves.

Skeksis as Player Characters Skeksis do not have racial hit dice, and advance by character class. A skeksis character has the following traits Outsider (native) A skeksis is immune to spells and effects that target humanoids only +2 Str, +2 Cha, -2 Con Skeksis have strong muscles and personalities, but are in frail health Medium size A skeksis gains no benefit and suffers no penalty for its size Darkvision 60 ft. Slow and Steady A skeksis has a movement speed of 20 feet, but is not slowed down by encumbrance or armor Spurn Death A skeksis gains resistance 5 to negative energy. It does not lose hit points when suffering from a negative level. A skeksis gains a +2 racial bonus on saving throws against death effects, energy drain, negative energy or spells and spell-like abilities of the necromancy school. Focused Study At 1st, 8th and 16th level, a skeksis gains Skill Focus in a skill of its choosing. Bite A skeksis gains a bite attack as a primary natural weapon that deals 1d3 points of damage. Vestigial Wings Although a skeksis cannot fly, it gains a +4 racial bonus to all Fly checks if they can fly with some other method Languages A skeksis begins play speaking Common and urSkek. A skeksis with an Intelligence bonus can choose between the following bonus languages: Abyssal, Celestial, Draconic, Goblin, Halfling, Infernal, Undercommon

Sample Skeksis Skeksis mesmerist 10         CR 9 XP 6,400 NE Medium outsider (native) Init +5; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +10 Defense AC 17, touch 12, flat-footed 15 (+1 Dex, +1 dodge, +5 armor) hp 58 (10d8+10) Fort +5, Ref +10, Will +15; +2 vs. death effects, energy drain, necromancy, negative levels Defensive Abilities towering ego (+5); Resist negative energy 5 Offense Speed 20 ft. Melee masterwork quarterstaff +8/+3 (1d6), bite +2 (1d3) Ranged masterwork light crossbow +9 (1d8/19-20) Special Attacks bold stare (disorientation, susceptibility), hypnotic stare (-3), mental potency (+2 HD), painful stare (+5/+3d6) Spells CL 10th, concentration +18 4th (2/day)—envious urge (DC 20), enervation 3rd (4/day)—charm monster (DC 19), crushing despair (DC 19), synaptic pulse (DC 19), vampiric touch 2nd (5/day)—anticipate thoughts (DC 17), blur, hold person (DC 18), mirror image, suggestion (DC 18) 1st (7/day)—burst of adrenaline, command (DC 17), hideous laughter (DC 17), paranoia (DC 17), ray of enfeeblement (DC 16) 0th—bleed (DC 15), detect magic, ghost sound (DC 15), mage hand, prestidigitation, read magic Statistics Str 10, Dex 12, Con 11, Int 14, Wis 12, Cha 21 Base Atk +7; CMB +8; CMD 20 Feats Craft Wondrous Item, Dodge, Improved Initiative, Intimidating Glance, Spell Focus (enchantment), Skill Focus (Bluff, Intimidate) Skills Bluff +32, Diplomacy +17, Disguise +17, Fly +4, Intimidate +27, Knowledge (arcana) +11, Knowledge (local) +11, Knowledge (history) +11, Knowledge (nobility) +11, Perception +10, Sense Motive +10, Spellcraft +11, Stealth +9; Racial Modifiers +4 Fly Languages Common, Halfling, Undercommon, urSkek SQ manifold tricks (3), touch treatment 8/day (minor, moderate or major), tricks (compel alacrity, false flanker, meek façade, misdirection, psychosomatic surge, shadow splinter) Gear circlet of persuasion, headband of charisma +2, cloak of resistance +2, +2 studded leather armor, 2 potions of cure moderate wounds, masterwork quarterstaff, masterwork light crossbow, 20 bolts, royal outfit, jewelry worth 250 gp, 300 gp

[hermits-that-craft]

Chapter 48

AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23509375/chapters/62655412 TW- DEATH

Protector laughs, her long blue hair flowing behind her as she runs from her twin. They’re young, their 8th birthday was celebrated only a few days earlier. Protector races down corridors, her laughter echoing with her footsteps. 

“Octavia what are you doing?” Night asks her, picking her up and spinning her around as Builder catches up to her. “Why did you leave Alexios behind?”

“We’re playing tips!” Protector, Octavia to her close family, giggles. Night laughs, throwing her into the air before catching her.

“Me next!” Builder, or Alexios, yells, pushing Octavia out of the way. “Me next, please Ceri. Please toss me next.”

“No! Ceri was throwing me!”

“I can throw both of you.”

“Ceridwen!” Octavia wines, pushing her sibling’s leg as they pick up Alexios. “Not fair!”

---

Alexios runs behind Ceridwen, throwing his arms around the older creation’s neck. Ceri smiles sadly, spinning around and picking up the young watcher, not caring that Octavia watches from the corner of the room. Ceri spins Alexios around, and Alexios laughs before Ceri sets him down on the ground once more.

“What can I do for you, little brother.” Ceri says in a fake posh accent, picking fun at the young teen. A sad look rests behind the grin on Ceri’s face. “What’cha want?”

“Why do you look sad?” Alexios asks, concern on his face. Ceri’s face drops and they stand straighter, shaking their head, dark purple hair falling on their face.

“It’s nothing.”

---

Octavia walks with Alexios, wiping sweat off her forehead with a small towel. Blisters litter her hands from the sword and a large one rests on her ankles. She carries her shoes in her left hand, not bothering to wear the shoes around her home. Her long hair, pulled into a bun, is too messy, and she pushes it out of her eyes with frustration.

“I’m going to cut all this hair off one day.” Octavia grumbles to her brother.

“Maybe you could ask Cenn for our 17th?” Alexios suggests helpfully, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“That’s ages away.” Octavia complains, pouting at her twin. “Why can’t I just cut it off myself?”

“It’s next month.”

“Lexi, would you-”

“No I won’t cut your hair.” Alexios rolls his purple eyes. Suddenly, a loud shout comes from the door they had walked past, and the twins turn back, standing near the door. More shouting echoes out of the room, and Alexios winces as something shatters in the room, before heavy footsteps make their way to the door.

A woman exits the room, dressed in a purple stola, her black hair braided on top of her head, a golden circlet braided into her hair. There are chrysanthemum flowers decaying in her hair. Her eyes hold moths and white freckles light up her skin. Rose blushes, looking away from the goddess of death. Octavia takes a deep breath in, determined to either make a good impression or to make a fool of herself.

“I’m Protector.” Octavia puts her hand out in front of her, waiting for the goddess to shake her hand.

“I will spare you the pain of death in shaking your hand.” The woman smiles. “I’m Amari.”

“That’s a cute name, pick it yourself?” Octavia tries to flirt, and Alexios chokes out a laugh. Amari doesn’t try to hide her laughter, covering her mouth with her hand as she laughs.

“You’re cute.” The goddess teases. “But I’m not interested.”

“Fair.” Octavia smirks. “What are you doing in this realm?”

“Finding out a prophecy.” Amari’s face falls as she looks at the two watchers. “I won’t bother you two with the details.”

---

Octavia sits in the corner of the library, a book in her hands but she doesn’t read it. Instead, she watcher Ceri as they bite back tears. Octavia doesn’t understand what has made Ceri look at her as though they are going to hurt her, but she doubts that they will. Ceri has always been kind, even under the persona they wear as ‘Night’. Octavia doesn’t understand why Ceri would even think about that. Amari won’t tell her anything about it, and dread builds behind Octavia’s eyes. 

Alexios creeps behind Ceri, pulling them into a hug. Ceri nearly jumps out of their skin, a dark purple blush creeping up their face. Ceri stands, Alexios getting lifted up off of the floor. 

“What do you want?” Ceri asks, leaning over so Alexios can drop off.

“I want to know if you’re alright. You look worried.”

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry.”

Doubt creeps into Octavia’s mind, and she finally starts to read the book in her hands.

---

“Ale - Builder, are you sure that this is a good decision?” Octavia asks Alexios, stumbling over his watcher name. Names have power, and giving out Alexios’ true name would spell disaster, even if they are on Evo, the home planet of the Avians.

“Yes, Protector.” Alexios doesn’t stumble over her watcher name. “We should help them.”

“They will never learn to truly fly if there are no risks. Builder, we learnt over the deep void.” Octavia rolls her eyes, but she glides down onto the forest floor, sending a smile up to the woman in her treetop home. The woman nods, walking inside before she comes out, carrying a small girl with wings like fire agate and hair that flows like the ocean, the messy waves a similar colour as well. Octavia smiles, looking at the girl and messing with her own freshly cut hair, a deeper blue than the girls.

The woman holds the girl over the ledge, and Octavia gasps as the woman lets the girl drop. Every cell in her body screams at her to fly out and save her, to help the little girl despite what she had just said.

The little girl doesn’t cry, her wings snapping open and beating as though this was not the fledgling's first time flying. The small avian flies up to her mother, laughing as the woman jumps off the ledge, helping teach the small girl to fly. 

A cloud covers the sun, and Octavia turns around, spying Ceri hiding under a tree, a bright smile on their face. Octavia is taken aback, surprised that her older sibling would leave their home without their mask. Alexios and her share worried looks, jumping off the treetops to meet them under the canopy.

“You left without the mask. Is everything alright?” Octavia asks. “Night, you never do that.”

“I don’t have my mask?” Ceri lifts their hand to their face, surprise leaving a mark on their expression. “It doesn’t matter, no, none of that matters anymore.”

“What are you on?” Alexios asks, frowning at them. “Night, what the nether are you talking about?”

“I have sons.”

“What?” Octavia laughs, though she can’t contain her disbelief. “What are you saying?”

“Sons. Two of them, twins. It was only supposed to be one, but I don’t care. I love them all the same.” Ceri has a sappy smile on their face, love written along their features. “I didn’t have enough names for them. I’ll need to come up with some.”

“Ceridwen what are you saying?” Alexios says, the forbidden name snapping Ceri out of their daze.

“I have two sons. Please, you have to meet them.”

---

Ceri hums to Xisuma, bouncing him around the nursery as Exavier sleeps in his crib. Octavia watches as Ceridwen puts Xisuma down in his own crib, the baby's purple eyes wide and curious, not yet wanting to sleep but too tired to do anything else.

Ceri turns, the light smile falling from their face as they see Octavia in the doorframe. Octavia smiles, mouthing ‘good night’ to her sibling before slipping out of the doorframe, ducking behind the corner as Alexios steals away to Ceri, throwing his arms around Ceri’s neck for the last time.

“What are you planning, you’ve got the mask out again.” Alexios doesn’t ask, even though it’s phrased as a question. 

“I don’t think we can trust them.” Ceri’s voice is quiet, as though they are admitting a grave sin to an unforgiving audience. “Void, they despise me, Lexi. We can’t trust them.”

“They’re our Cenn. We have to trust them.” 

“They mean harm for Xisuma and Exavier.”

“You have no proof of this.”

“Proof? You speak of needing proof for me to distrust them and yet you do not provide any proof for either of us to trust them.” Ceri turns around, and Protector ducks her head behind the wall. “Come with us, Alexios, Builder. Join us, we can do so much good for the universe. For not only Void but for every being.”

Protector doesn’t stay for much longer, her feet carrying her to Void’s chambers, her mouth telling the god of Night’s betrayal.

---

Guilt tears at Octavia as she flies off into the distance, two small babies crying in her arms. The two sons of Ceri twisting in her arms. Void ordered her to hide them, saying that Night was playing god and going to harm the sons. Octavia doesn’t believe them, having seen how Ceri sings their sons to sleep at night, but she had agreed to this taste. She must follow through, even if she wishes she didn’t.

Surely Xisuma and Exavier will be safer with the void witch that she had been watching. The void witch may be a follower of Night, so she surely will know that the babies are Ceri’s sons. Surely she will know how to raise the babies in the void.

Protector lands on the edge of an end stone island, resting the twins on the ground lightly, drinking an invisibility potion before she runs through the halls and corridors of the temple. She finds the door she has been looking for, slightly ajar with a purple curtain hiding it without moving in even the faintest of breezes.

Protector wakes up the void witch, Octavia leading her to the screaming babies. Xisuma and Exavier stop screaming as the woman comes into view, and Octavia plants the seed of rebellion into the void witches mind before she watches the witch pick the boys up and flee.

Octavia cannot interfere any longer, not even as Protector. She’s broken so many rules already.

---

Protector walks along the world hub with Builder, secretly looking for her missing sibling. She doesn’t know why Builder agreed to come with her on this walk, though she’s glad for the company.

A scream breaks the silence of the peaceful world hub, fearful and young and in pain. Protector runs towards it, light on her feet as dread sets in her chest as the portal to Evo appears in the distance. It’s broken, the bedrock frame cracked and missing parts of it, and lying in front of it, purple wings splayed out atop him, a small boy lies. He would be only a few years younger than Xisuma and Exavier, and his messy blonde hair has dirt and blood on it. His sweater, once white, is stained red with blood and a large burn rests on his side, his sweater still burning.

Builder summons water over the boy, dousing him in water. Protector summons healing potions, throwing them over the boy. He still screams, and Builder picks him up, waving at Protector.

“Find out what happened. I’ll take him home.” Protector only nods, forcing a portal open to the world.

Acrid smoke hits Protector’s nose, and the screams of the dead and dying fill her ears. Evo is alight, the flames licking at the buildings that Protector and Builder helped to erect, at forests that Builder summoned for the avians to live in. 

Bodies litter the floor, some still groaning with pain in their final moments. Some still stand, refusing to die without a fight. Some aid the dying, holding their hands in their final moments. Some do not fall just yet, fighting the arsonists with all their might. Others go out in the air, the smoke sending them to the floor. Night stands in the middle of the smoke, the mask on their face telling Protector that this was an attack planned by the creator of the nether and the void realms. Night looks to Protector and the arsonists vanish, spears going through as many of the living’s hearts as they leave. Those dead still standing fall, and the living raise to stand as Amari walks amongst them silently, invisible to all but Octavia.

Evo has fallen, burnt to a crisp with little left of it to remember it by. The dead stain the ground red with blood, and Amari takes some with her even as they still breath. Amari nods to Octavia, walking past with the dead following behind her. 

Protector takes the living with her, to watcher towers across the universe, hiding them from Night’s wrath. Octavia wants to cry, but she tells Void of Ceri’s crimes. Night deserves to die for this, but Void doesn’t put any price onto Night’s head.

---

Octavia and Alexios sit in some back end bar at the edge of a little known world at the edge of the world hub. Octavia and Alexios look up every time the small door creaks open, waiting for Ceri to come through. Or more so, Octavia looks up, Alexios has already lost himself in drink waiting for their sibling to come. Octavia doesn’t know if they’ll come, if Ceri is too lost to Night to hear the reason that they’ll provide. Surely Ceri wants to come home.

“I’m sorry that I’m late. You have any diamonds?” Ceri’s voice is quiet, sliding into the stool next to Octavia.

“Another round, I’ll buy their first as well.” Octavia puts the diamonds onto the bar, the red slime behind the counter nodding and preparing the drinks. “Ceri, what have you done?”

“I want them back. Void took them, Tavi. They can’t be raised by some stranger. I will find them again.” Ceri swears, taking a swig of the drink that was placed in front of them. 

“You tore apart Evo.” Octavia glares at them, but they shrug. 

“You would do the same. Wait until you have kids.”

“No, Ceri I don’t understand-”

“Of course you don’t.”

“It was genocide, Ceri. You’re lucky that Void loves you, there's no price on your head yet.”

“Void doesn’t love anyone but themselves.”

“Ceri! You made it!” Alexios slurs, taking Octavia’s untouched drink as he finishes his fourth round. “You look sad, penny for your thoughts?”

Ceri and Octavia laugh as Alexios gets up, throwing his arms around Ceri’s neck. Ceri shoves him into Octavia, and the twins laugh as Ceri frowns. 

“You know, I’ve got the most brilliant idea for a world.” Alexios says, leaning against the bar and drinking more of Octavia’s drink. “Everything is wrong. The mountains reach the build height. Everything can kill you.”

“Lexi we’re here to convince Ceri to come back, not to get drunk.” Octavia reminds her twin for the third time that night.

“Shh, let him finish.” Ceri winks at Octavia. “What would live there?”

“Murder sheep.” Alexios says, completely seriously. Octavia and Ceridwen can’t hold in their laughter any longer, laughing at their drunk brother.

---

Protector adjusts her cream coloured stola, a red shall wrapped over her hair and shoulders loosely. She feels out of place in the party, wishing she was at home with her son and brother. Grian has improved so much, he should be alright with Alexios, though Protector worries for him. Alexios cares for him deeply, but he will let Grian stay up late and eat sweets. She can’t focus on that, instead listening idly to King Silas as he describes what the Vex have been up to. Watchers and Vex dance and mill about the room, laughing.

A woman enters the room, dressed in a green mantua style ball gown with gold embroidery. Her long red hair flows over her shoulders, and Protector flushes as the vex woman’s bright blue eyes meet her red red ones. Protector can hardly breathe, her heart hammering in her chest. She excuses herself from Silas’ side, walking over to the woman.

“Hi.” Protector’s voice is small, her nervousness showing through her carefully constructed facade. 

“Hello.” The woman smiles and Protector flushes, unable to think. “Could I have a dance with you?”

“Uh, yes of course.” Protector stumbles over her words, blinking as the woman takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor. “I’m Oct- I’m Protector.”

“My vex title is Rose.” Rose smiles at her, leading Protector through a dance. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The two women dance and spend the night together, hiding behind the columns and in small rooms. Protector can hardly think through the night, laughing with the woman as they sneak through the corridors of the palace. The hide in the palace gardens, in the library, in the kitchens, talking to each other like old friends and sneaking around like lovers.

Perhaps they are lovers, as when the night is over Rose slips Protector a handkerchief and an address, telling Protector to return the handkerchief when she ‘realises she has it’.

---

Octavia steals out of her house, Grian and Builder sound asleep. She sneaks out in the dead of night, flying to a forest far away from her home. Octavia won’t sleep tonight.

“Hello, Protector.” Rose’s voice is quiet as she lands in the clearing. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m more glad to see you again.” Octavia kisses Rose’s hand, making the woman giggle. “You can call me Octavia, though.”

“You’re giving me your name?” Rose’s voice is quiet, shocked. Octavia steals a kiss from the woman as she leads her into a dance. 

“Of course.”

“My name is Lillian.”

“It suits you.”

“How so?” Rose, Lillian, laughs quietly.

“It’s just as beautiful as you.” Octavia mumbles, spinning Lillian around. 

“Liar.”

“How could I lie to you? You’ve entranced me.”  Octavia pressing her forehead to Lillian’s. “I love you.”

“Through the void and back.”

---

“Hey Mum, you’ve got a letter.” Grian grins over the breakfast table. Builder had already left for some world that had to be customised. Octavia looks up at him, the teenager smirking at him.

“Oh?”

“It’s from that girl you keep sneaking out to meet.” Grian takes a bite of his cereal, smirking. “It’s probably a ‘please meet up again’ letter.”

“How do you know that, young man?”

“Dad’s the only one who can sleep through you getting ready to leave. Honestly, I don’t mind, just make sure you treat her alright.”

“Grian are you insinuating that I don’t already?”

“I’m just saying that you could probably marry her, but you’re too much of a coward to do so.” Grian hands Octavia the letter. “Go on, I’ve seen the ring. Go give it to her before I mail it to her myself.”

Octavia opens the letter, reading the time that Rose wants to meet with her. Sunset, the flower forest near Lillian’s home. Octavia quickly pens a letter to her, Grian reading over her shoulder.

---

Octavia lands in the flower field, Grian insisting on her wearing a nice white shirt and black pants to meet with Lilllian. Lillian stands in the middle of the flower forest, wearing a pink sundress with a large straw hat on her head. Her red hair is pulled into a bun, and Octavia plucks a daisy, tucking it behind Lillian’s ear.

Lillian kneels, pulling out a ring with a red gem centered in it. Octavia gasps before she kneels, pulling out a ring with a blue crystal on it. Lillian laughs, and Octavia picks the woman up, spinning her around the field. They kiss as the sun sets, affianced to each other. Engaged.

---

“Through every world,” Rose says loudly, her wedding vows echoing over the beach and into the dark oak forest. Her dress is a pale gold, with white roses braided into her hair. “I will be with you, sickness and health be damned, my love for you will out number the stars.”

“In every universe, I will be by your side.” Protector finishes the vow, holding Rose’s hands. Protector wears a white suit with a black shirt and a golden tie, and a white rose rests on the lapel of her suit jacket. “You will be in my heart, the thorn in the side of my heart.”

“You may now kiss the bride.” Builder smiles, and Rose pulls Protector into the kiss. The sun glows behind them, casting everything and everyone in gold.

The walk down to the guests, exchanging small pleasantries and teases with the guests. Protector spies Night at the edge of the forest, a small bag in their hand that they place down where they stand before they leave. 

“Congrats.”

“Scar, I didn’t think you would be able to make it!” Rose smiles, pulling her nephew into a hug. “How’s hermitcraft?”

“It’s lovely, I wish you two could see it.” Scar smiles, before looking around the room. “Aw, Protector’s son didn’t come?”

“He was busy. Some civil war that he had to deal with.” Protector shrugs it off. “It’s understandable. Where is your brother?”

“Stuck with the hermits. He gave me a gift to give you both.” Scar hands them a small box. “I left my gift on the table.”

“Thank you, Scar.” Rose kisses his cheeks. “Send Cub our thanks as well.”

“Of course.”

---

“I found something.” Lillian says, sitting on Octavia’s desk. She puts a heavy book down onto the desk, and Octavia looks up, and eyebrow raised.

“What is it?”

“Something to make a kid that would be related to both of us.” Lillian says, showing Octavia the passage. 

“It’s a tough spell, flower.” Octavia mumbles, reading through the spell. “I’m not sure if it would be the safest thing to do-”

“I’ll carry them.” Lillian says. “You can continue your work.”

“That’s the least of my concerns.” Octavia brushes some of Lillian’s red hair behind her ear. “Your health is infinitely more important to me.”

“I think we should try this. We have a nursery, may as well use it.” Lillian’s voice is light, but Octavia remember’s why they built the house. 

“As long as you will be safe” Octavia reads through the spell one more time, carefully looking over the passage. “I think this could work.”

---

Protector jolts upwards, her hand slipping through where Builder should be. She slowly stands, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It feels like her head has been stuffed with cotton, and she looks around the room. It’s made of marble and quartz and a dark rock that Protector doesn’t recognise. She reaches for her sword to find air where her scabbard should be. She stands, her usual armour replaced with a white peplos. She walks along the black carpet, out of the small room and into a large hall, the building reminding her of an old castle mixed with some ancient greek temple.

Protector finds herself in front of a large, dark oak door, and for the first time ever she feels small. Her heart doesn’t beat in her chest, though she feels nervous. She doesn’t want to know what's beyond those doors, what fate awaits her.

She opens the doors anyways, walking through them. There is no bright light, however there is a woman, sitting atop a red and gold throne, wearing a pale purple stola. A golden circlet rests in her eyes and sadness laces her eyes. Amari beckons Protector towards her, and Protector suddenly remembers the first time that they met. This is the prophecy that Amari had heard. Protector is dead. Protector can’t move, her hand covering her mouth as she tries to stifle a cry. She’s failed, she’s left her family alone with Night. She has fulfilled her end of the prophecy but that does not guarantee anyone’s life.

“You’re an hour late, Octavia.” Amari’s voice is filled with sorrow, pulling Octavia into a hug. “Did you monologue?”

“I don’t want to die.” Octavia cries, falling into the goddess of death's arms. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to go.”

[hitchell-mope]

The ZM wedding dress

First of all it looks like this

But without the pointy collar

There’s hoops that go over the middle fingers

The main colours are purple, black and emerald green

The skirts are layers of swan feathers dyed the above colours

Black flats for shoes

As a crown she has an obsidian pearl circlet with an emerald in the centre

The feathers were dove feathers in the dream where she first saw it. But she can’t stand that particular avian breed. (Has to get a dig at the franchise somehow). Also. Jay gives her away. Doug’s the best man. Elsa’s the maid of honour. And Evie has to settle for the role of “sister of the bride” because she tried to take over completely and ignore what Mal wanted.

[auroradicit]

quick kes facts bc @luminousxbeings​ is an enabler and a half:

-CT-4871, callsign “Kestrel”, shortened to Kes -Probably wouldn’t use this terminology, but genderflux/girlflux (varies between they/them and she/her pronouns, ideally). -speaking of which, assigned to Shriekhawk Squadron, a specialized infiltration group notable for their use of heavily modified jetpacks/gliders (headcanons under the cut for length) -wicked sense of humor, if you get to see it -compartmentalizing constantly. one day at a time. -almost never seen far from CK’s Chance

Shriek-Hawk Squad

Shriek-Hawk Squad is a Clone Commando squad specializing in advanced reconnaissance active during the Clone Wars. The main squad consists of four highly trained commandos that utilize highly experimental winged jetpacks that mimic the wings of feathered avian species, which are controlled by neural interface circlets that tap directly into the user’s brainwaves. Each set of Wings is uniquely shaped to reflect different specialized flight styles, and each feather is equipped with sensors that detect air pressure changes and minute wind shifts which are then transmitted back through the neural interface. The learning curve to mastering the Wings is incredibly steep due to the fact that users must learn how to coordinate two new cybernetic limbs in sync with their quadrupedal bodies.

The highly experimental neural interface does not come without side effects: nearly all members of the squad report a pseudo ‘phantom limb’ syndrome after not flying for long periods of time, becoming irritable and restless, akin to symptoms of withdrawal. This has been informally termed ‘Sky Fever’.

Shriek-Hawk Squad is unique in that it is overseen by Jedi Master Strix, a non-binary Rishii with a long history of reconnaissance.  Every member of the squad is gender non-conforming. Each member of the Shriek-Hawk squad also bears Jaig Eyes upon their helmets in honor of the Mandalorian Shriek-Hawk for which the squad is named, and stylized Jaig Eyes have become the de facto symbol of the squad. Additionally, members of Shriek-Hawk Squad favor iridescent paints for their armor and wings.

Squad members refer to themselves as ‘The Flock’. Since the Wings are delicate and sensitive instruments, they require careful maintenance after each mission to ensure each feather is free of dust and debris that could impede performance.  While connected to the neural interface, a squad member can feel even the slightest of touches upon their cybernetic feathers. It is a ritual for the Flock to gather together post-mission to ‘groom’ the wings of their squad members, and very few outsiders are permitted to view much less join in such an intimate and personal activity.

headcanons from shared discussion, writeup by luminousxbeings

[techthiev]

BOLD what applies to your muse. - Remember to REPOST. - Feel free to add to the list.

[ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 ]    red.  brown.  orange.  yellow.  green.  blue.  purple.  pink.  black.  white.  teal.  silver.  gold.  grey.  lilac.  royal blue.  strawberry red.  charcoal grey.  forest green.  apple red.  navy blue.  crimson.  cream.  mint.  green.  magenta.  pastels. darks.  bubblegum pink.  blood red.  ivory.  metallic.  matte.  

[ 𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 ]    fire.  ice.  water.  air.  earth.  rain.  snow.  wind.  moon.  stars.  sun.  heat.  cold.  steam.  frost.  lightning.  sunlight.  moonlight.  dawn.  dusk.  twilight. midnight.  sunrise.  sunset.  dewdrops.  clouds.

[ 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 ]    claws.  long fingers.  fangs.  teeth.  wings.  lips.  bare feet.  freckles.  bruises.  scars.  scratches.  large ears.  wounds.  burns.  spikes.  feathers.  webs. unique eyes.  hands.  sweat.  tears.  feline-esque.  canine-esque.  chubby.  curvy.  short.  tall.  normal height.  muscular.  slender.  trained.  piercings.  tattoos.  strong.  weak.  shapeshifting.  svelte.  long hair.  short hair.  dark circles.  big.  small. prosthetics.  experimented.  cyborg.  halos.  horns.  tails.  wolfish.  fur.

[ 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍𝐑𝐘 ]     fists.  sword.  dagger.  spear.  scythe.  bow and arrow.  hammer.  shield.  poison.  guns.  axes.  throwing axes.  whips.  knives.  throwing knives.  pepper sprays.  tasers.  automatic rifles.  pistols.  sniper rifles.  slingshots.  maces.  staffs.  wands.  powers.  magical items.  magic.  flamethrower.  bo.  shotguns.  needles.

[ 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋 ]     gold.  silver.  titanium.  diamonds.  pearls.  rubies.  sapphires.  emeralds.  amethyst.  metal.  iron.  rust.  steel.  glass.  wood.  porcelain.  ivory.  paper.  wool.  fur.  lace.  leather.  copper.  silk.  velvet.  denim.  linen.  cotton.  charcoal.  clay.  stone.  asphalt.  brick.  marble.  dust.  soft.  rough.  glitter.  blood.  dirt.  mud.  smoke. ash.  shadow.  carbonate.  rubber.  synthetics.  slime.

[ 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 ]      grass.  leaves.  trees.  bark.  roses.  daisies.  tulips.  holly.  lavender.  lilies.  petals.  thorns.  sunflowers.  seeds.  hay.  sand.  rocks.  snow.  ice.  roots.  flowers.  ocean.  river.  lake.  meadow.  forest. desert.  tundra.  savanna.  rain forest.  swamp.  caves.  underwater.  coral reef.  beach.  waves.  space.  stars.  clouds.  mountains.  fungi.  cliffs.  sunlight.

[ 𝐅𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐀 ]     lions.  wolves.  panther.  eagles.  owls.  serpents.  turtles.  insects.  spiders.  avians.  dolphins.  fish.  sharks.  horses.  feline.  canine.  rabbits.  crows.  ravens.  mice.  lizards.  frogs.  bears.

[ 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐃 / 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊 ]     sugar.  salt.  water.  candy.  wine.  champagne.  hard liquor.  beer.  coffee.  tea.  spices.  herbs.  apple.  orange.  lemon.  cherry.  strawberry.  watermelon.  vegetables.  fruits.  meat.  fish.  pies.  desserts.  chocolate.  cream.  caramel.  berries.  nuts.  cinnamon.  burgers.  burritos.  pizza.  vanilla.  cookies.

[ 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 ]     music.  art.  watercolors.  gardening.  knitting.  smithing.  sculpting.  painting.  sketching.  fighting.  fencing.  riding.  writing.  composing.  cooking.  sewing.  training.  dancing.  acting.  singing.  biology.  chemistry.  martial arts.  self-defense.  electronics.  cameras.  video games.  computer.  theater.  books.  magazines.  poetry.  philosophy.  vinyls.  cassettes.  piano.  violin.  cello.  guitar.  harmonica.  synthesizers.  harp.  woodwinds.  brass.  flute.  drums.  bells.  playing cards.  poker chips.  chess.  dice.  motorcycle riding.  eating. climbing.  running. parkour.  vivisection.

[ 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 ]     lingerie.  armor.  cape.  dress.  suit.  tunic.  vest.  boots. heels.  leggings.  jeans.  skirt.  shorts.  jewelry.  earrings.  necklace.  bracelet.  ring.  pendant.  hat.  crown.  circlet.  helmet.  scarf.  neck tie.   brocade.  cloaks. corsets.  doublet.  chest plate.  gorget.  bracers.  belt.  sash.  coat.  jacket. hood.  gloves.  socks.  masks.  cowls.  braces.  watches.  glasses.  sunglasses.  visor.  eye contacts.  makeup.  pantyhose.  stockings.  thighhighs.

[gamergeeker]

Vercel’s Story, chapter 3

His awakening was nowhere near as kind as his sedation. He had the fuzzy hands of a large Apex slipped around his chest as the silver-haired primate-man plucked the smaller Avian from the bed. Thankfully, whatever that sweet nurse was doing while he was out was working like a charm, as the skull pain and aching in his right side had subsided.

The Apex set Vercel on his feet and looked toward the entryway as a Glitch and a new crew member, a Floran girl this time, carried another survivor from the horrible event. This Floran was wearing the high-cut tee shirt with the small chest plate, standard pants, and an iron Floran circlet. From this perspective, it was far less flattering than it looked in the texts. Now it was smeared with blood as she helped carry the newest victim.

This time it was a human that was in pretty bad shape. There were massive amounts of blood and as this man was set down, the violet Avian that cared for Vercel swept in and buckled the injured man into the same cot that was only recently vacated.

While the patient was being buckled in, the Glitch decked in Protectorate gear headed below decks, a swift pattern of clanking metal impacts marking his descent to the main area of the ship. Upon his departure, the violet Avian merely reached into her bag for her medical supplies.

After a moment of peace, the ship lurched suddenly as they swerved to avoid a maroon tentacle akin to the one that destroyed Vercel's ship, making the horrified Avian cling to the bars of the prison-like door that Ruka must have scavenged on her travels. The violet Avian simply held onto the cot, and the Apex braced himself against the plated wall.

The metallic crashing and clattering from below-decks got Vercel worried about cargo falling over, until he heard the cursing of the Glitch, "Angry! Crap, warn me when you guys swerve like that!" The clanking and clattering was replaced with a little more organized sounds as the Glitch seemingly picked himself back up.

The Floran didn't seem to have any problems with this whole thing, having quickly padded across the floor and stepped off the wall to keep from losing her stability. She seemed to follow the gyroscopic flow of gravity in this one moment. It was rather fascinating to see.

With gravity returning to normal, there was the unmistakable sound of someone beaming as there was the accompanying sound of a few buttons pressed on the Teleporter pad. The crew members seemed a great deal more organized than Vercel knew, and this made him worry if he even had any way to thank these rescuers.

This pretty violet Avian seemed to have more-than-expert hands as she patched up this man, blood flow stopped now as her care oversaw injury after injury. Vercel even saw her hand dip into her pouch for a moment to grab a syringe filled with something red that was unknown to the half-blind yellow Avian.

The female Avian injected both sides of a gut-turning injury before pulling the needle and letting the final few drops of the contents squirt along the gash of the open wound, before holding the open flesh together and starting a bandage around the human's thigh.

Vercel noted that she works very fast, but as he looked over her once again, there was a rumble from the planet that was soul-shatteringly deep underground, and as the members of the crew looked out the portholes at the planet below, Vercel managed to take a quick peek as a few ships managed to leave the atmosphere, before the planet itself suddenly ripped apart in countless chunks of crust and cooling magma.

Earth was no more.

[rhotdornn]

[In Your Shadow]: The Lord of The Wings

Autumn’s Crimson-Leaf,

And Inked Spring���s Ravenshade,

None shorter for a Golden Flower...

Unravel the masquerade.

 The air of the Forest had begun to bare its deceitful treachery upon the joint fates of the two most unlikely companions. Rank upon rank of bark and bough had begun to seep away in the distance, and the further the eye pursued their folds did they sink into an unsettling, murky gloom, laden with a ghastly, silvery mist. Breath availed them not and catered less so to them--their lungs would feel the Shroud’s bosom constrict, as the recline of pure air had come to hint at. It had been an atmosphere accustomed to regions hosting a rich palette of lichen upon unkempt barks--breathing became stifling, the air infatuated with moisture and subtly robbed of clarity, deviously robbing the pair of both sight and comfort. It had not depleted too direly, though. Slipstreams of wind still coursed through the fibers of grass both verdant and murky--under the great, harrowing crowns of boughs did the green carpet grow bolder, held captive by an audience of darker hue.

 Draping the hind of his knuckles against the fine, bulbous peak of his nose, the Sea Wolf would struggle to make aught out of the play that took center stage before that very selfsame snout--a moderate, silenced gasp chanted from his lips as the terrible form of the Shroud-daughter yielded to release, yearning to incur a wrath of her own conjuration--she fended for another cause, that much would not elude his perceptive keenness. His best guess lingered with the idea of assertion--dominance. Rivienne was not wont to bend knee and heel before a militant authority--and less so in the face of adversity propagated by no face indeed. Rhotdornn’s breath grew stale, and his orbs gave away a lulled, swayed portrayal. Hers was a wrathful, sundering form--one outfitted with looming terror and not found at a lack of terrible luster, either. An icon of horror, both divine and awe-inspiring. Her fear was become fled before her divinity, and even the Shadows themselves reeled and trembled like brittle twigs in the righteous gust ripping from a striking gale. From her palm sprung reflections of gleaming bright, and the air had come to be restored--even if to last the couple for but a breath’s respite, before equally, once more, whittling away abandoning them to the mercy of the Twelve--and whatever phantom harried the trees on that eve, to boot.

 The raven greeted her newfound gown of aether and splendor with a craning of its head heavensward. It knew its part--and it knew to play it to perfection in these negotiations and under the decree of these circumstances. Stubbornly would its feet crave the coolant ground, an act of paralleled need of imposition. However, not much of the same could be rehearsed for its brethren--the curtain speckled with many-a-green began to extinguish, the dots in the bloated, blackened wall of the Forest’s wooden folds gradually depleting, one after the other--the swarm of emerald counted lower and lower, until, at last, the final pair of orbs only lingered atop them from a high-vaulted, remote crown of swaying leaves. Far less avian were they introduced to the two, if looks were a feasible judge to go by--a greatly humanoid trait shaped their pupils in an elegant round, their glow protruding through attentive lids--far from closed, yet not maliciously agape, either. They watched restlessly. Tirelessly laboring to cater to the pair’s curiosity--and destiny, respectively.

  At a sudden notice, a hollow breath began sneaking into the luxuriant earlobes of the juvenile nymph. If senses could betray her, they would alert her to the lack of an external voice--but one that almost took onto the suit of appealing to her from within her mind.

“What crave you? What twisted malice do you ride through these woods, driving it through every stump and splinter? Harrowing these grounds with the taint of blood you’ve soaked your fingers in the past?”

 Time did not lend assistance to the maiden, either--’twas as if the chronoveil had become stuck in its loop, a plane bereft of time’s passing--and still was it that only she could remain privy to the lush murmurs of the ghastly choir, hushing and gently tickling her earlobes with a chilled, fresh breeze. The woods to her had gone quiet, the surrendered to the strings of wind that caressed the strings which lulled them into dance, which robbed them of nimbleness and equally so which ripped them from their brittle twigs and battered branches.

“Golden... Flower...”

 The allure in the voice had served but one goal--one purpose. A speck of brilliance fell unto the beak of the raven, and from its nest upon the spears of verdant-green had it begun radiating, breaking through string and string of grass anew. A weak pulse had stemmed from it--and warmth it bequeathed upon the crust of the earth below. Without fail would the raven wind its neck past the obtrusion of grass and blade most emerald, securing the source betwixt the clutches of its keen beak. It’s wings drove in bold arcs apart, for wide they were, and wider still--their full length could stand even with the span of the Shroudmaiden’s shoulderblades were one attentive to such detail. Claps of its wings saw it pushed into the seams of air, yet not too far would it elevate, nor too high would it yearn--steering clear of her companion, the raven sought the heavens, until its flapping of wings could be heard a head above the Shroudmaiden’s own, thin earlobes. From the clutch of its beak hung an elegant, silver chain--the way it soaked and drank in the moonlight betrayed the rings that lined its links immediately, for only one metal gleamed so brightly, so lively, so mysteriously in the eye of the Moon--mithril.

 And from such loose chain an even more so loose opportunity--offering--teetered upon the precipice of her attention. A soft, simple, golden ring. No markings had it borne, no letters encrusted upon its flesh, no gem crowned its splendor--no. Absolutely nothing had it brandish any redeeming, unique traits--no plethora of virtuous designs, nothing save the vibrancy of the golden hue that coveted its span, and the perfect fit it matched for the digit of her own proportion.

“And now, at last to it we come. I will give you this ring freely! In place of this dreadful abyss that harrows your heart you will set up a splendid harmony. And no longer in it shall there be dark, but beautiful and terrible shall it come to be as the Morning and the Night! Fair as the Sea and the Sun and the Snow upon the Mountain! Dreadful as the Storm and the Lightning! Stronger than the foundations of the... Earth.”

 The final word streamed fluently from the enigmatic source, and great succor did it find in its utterance--a hollow pause would have the forest suffer the blight of anticipation. From the trinket itself stemmed a coat of challenging dread--and great would it grow indeed, for if it were gazed through its circlet, the maiden would suffer a flash shroud her own mind--and a split second would unravel before her a myriad, tome’s worth of pictures--a burning, crimson slit, shaped like a circle. And from it would vigilance spread, and dread would haunt and herald dominion. Far in the skies was it vaulted, concealed by bough and riddled with a buzzing cocoon of ripe aether. It willed her forth, seeking nourishment in the streams of her courage’s well--to gnaw away at her hope, happiness, life. Swiftly would these images snap like a tense band from her mind, and back unto the frozen standstill of a reality would she be delivered once more.

 At length it once more chimed, passing forth its final query.

“Your dread for harmony, your choice for his suffered existence. The same blade that clings to his sheath, freshly sharpened for your hand only... Will be his demise should you choose poorly.”

“To live is but to choose, Shroudmaiden. Now, yet, you command the fate of another with your own choice... Whatsoever will you choose?”

 Upon closer inspection back within the Sea Wolf’s coat had the blade long fled its scabbard, and now the pieces were accounted for--and revealed. From any vantage point of the woods could an emissary of death issue their strike, easily dispatching either under the nocturnal gown and the stealth of mist that slathered the Wood in a deathly, sickly-grey odor, welling with thickness and density.

Dreadweight.