The whole Megido-Captor-Leijon-Peixes gang, started out with my fefnep one! Then just decided to do a bunch of pairings :D
More info under the cut
Bennie- Goldblood, he/they. Tweet fact checker. Quora user. Goes um actually.
Baleen- Rustblood, she/they. Takes after Aradia. Digs for bones, but this has extended to just finding weird shit to bring home
Aridae- Oliveblood seadweller, she/he, forum rper and jesse pinkman fan
Baluga- mutantblood, she/her, party girl!! Loves 70s fashion
Bingle- oliveblood, they/them, loves going outside. runnin around.
Baaart- mutantblood, they/he, tail has the power to beam family guy video essays directly to your brain, gumbly simpson believer
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Balancing Act.
The former embodiment of Balance? Baphomet. Most folks recognize them as a demon, a rock and roll icon, that 'As above so below' goat dude cooked up by some quirky occultist in the 1800s. But you know what? They were all those things. Spirits morph over time, cruising through cultures that slap names on the mysterious, and they evolve, changing to suit the whims of us humans.
And at this moment Baphomet was just chilling on a couch, puffing on a cigarette, glued to the screen as the latest Avatar of Balance totally annihilates some video game enemies. "Hey Bennie, ease up a bit. If you keep squeezing that controller, it might just explode in your death grip, my good bitch," Baphomet quipped between drags.
Bennie glanced down at their hands, realizing they were indeed white-knuckling the controller, and immediately loosened their grip. "...Sorry. It's just...been a crappy week, you know?"
"I can tell, things aren't going great for you, huh, kid?" Baphomet inquired, placing a gentle hand on Benni's shoulder, though there was a slight twitch as Bennie wasn't accustomed to such simple acts of gentleness lately.
With a sigh, Bennie confessed, "No, not really... I mean... I just feel like giving up on... existence."
"Yeah, life's a tough gig, especially yours, but, lucky for you, existence is a gift. I mean, check me out. This cigarette? Not even real." Baphomet casually flicked the cigarette toward the TV, and it faded into nothing. "Sure, I can imagine what it tastes like, but it's not the same as actually tasting it, right? And when you're a spirit, time just sort of bleeds out weird."
Bennie nodded solemnly, not entirely convinced that their situation could get any worse. From the very start, they had been thrust into a whirlwind of trauma, much of it inflicted by others. Now, as an adult, Bennie had hoped for better control, but what little they had was easily snatched away.
Glancing out the window, they took note of Al's sculpture of Dionysus in the garden below. A god symbolizing wild and uncontrolled freedom, surrounded by meticulously placed flowers—no errant weeds, no quirky wild blooms. Everything just so. And it made Bennie want to vomit.
"I despise this place, but I can't leave," Benni sighed, heading over to the hookah to take a hit.
"Why not? What's stopping you?" Baphomet asked.
They let out a cloud of smoke as the spoke. "It's... safe here. No one's going to fuck around with Al's manor, and if they did, they'd find out real quick."
@passimtemere
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The Creature under the bed.
After a lively soirée filled with artists, influencers, and fashionistas, Alphonse aimed to conclude the gathering on a positive note. He gracefully guided the remaining guests toward the exit, exchanging cordial goodbyes and ushering them out with polite dismissals.
"Your presence tonight means a lot... Of course, we'll stay connected. Maryanne, our next gathering can't be scheduled unless you head home. Take care... goodbye." With a wave and a warm smile, he gently shut the door, his energy drained. Collapsing onto the floor, he let out a sigh of exhaustion. His cane fell to the ground, emitting a sharp clang against the marble. "I can't believe it took so long," he muttered, slipping off his shoes and wincing. "Stan, my dear, could you do me a favor and help me undo this confounded corset?"
Despite his own social fatigue, Stan couldn't help but let out a chuckle at his husband's weariness. "Leave it to me," he replied, walking over. His hand transformed into a precise claw as Alphonse turned around, exposing his back. With a deft motion, Stan adeptly sliced down the corset, expertly cutting the binding strings.
A guttural moan escaped Alphonse as the corset relinquished its hold, falling open like a cocoon. Despite his dedication to maintaining his physique, the corset had proven helpful in enhancing his posture and grace. Rolling onto his side and then sitting up, he gazed at Stan, offering a tired smile while catching his breath.
Stan's smile remained as he asked, "Why do you keep throwing these parties if they exhaust you like this?" He extended a hand to assist his husband in standing.
Alphonse accepted the help, grunting as he got to his feet. "My love, if I don't take charge," he responded, "someone else will. You wouldn't believe how poorly some handle the art of hosting. They mistake blaring music, harsh lights, mediocre food, and overpriced drinks for a successful event."
"You possess a refined taste that many lack," Stan remarked with a playful tone, punctuating his words with a kiss on the neck.
Alphonse giggled, leaning into the affection. However, their moment was interrupted by a scoffed "Gross" from a seat in the main hall. It was Bennie, Alphonse and Stan's youngest, who had ventured out of bed well past his bedtime to indulge in some cake.
"Bennie, what are you doing up?" Alphonse inquired, a mix of amusement and concern in his voice.
"I wanted some cake that your guests hardly tried!" Bennie explained with a sheepish grin, his young voice carrying a hint of mischief.
"Bennie, it's time for you to go to bed. You're aware that sugar can lead to more nightmares," Alphonse gently advised.
Bennie pouted slightly, responding, "I couldn't sleep. The noise from everyone was too loud."
Stan sensed Alphonse's weariness and offered to step in. Alphonse silently agreed, and Stan leaned down to whisper, "Let me handle this." Alphonse nodded his approval.
"Hey there, kiddo," Stan addressed Bennie with a playful grin. "Would you like the monster under your bed to tuck you in tonight?"
Bennie's eyes lit up, and he enthusiastically clapped his hands together. "Yes, PLEASE!" This was a special treat that only Stan was capable of providing.
Stan led Bennie to his room and leaned against the wall while Bennie hopped into bed, excitement evident on the young boy's face.
Stan began the nighttime rhyme, his voice soothing and playful.
"Under your bed is there something to see?"
Bennie grinned, playing along. "Just a friend, nothing to dread." Shadows began to billow out from under Bennie's bed, and tendrils started to snake out playfully.
"Surely it's too dark down there?" Stan responded, as one of the tendrils snaked up the bedside table and wrapped around the lamp.
Bennie nodded. "Yet darkness to it is like gentle air." The tendril gently clicked off the light, casting the room into darkness.
"Do you fear the claws that crawl and the tendrils that slither?" Stan continued, as the tendrils took an interest in Bennie's bedding, sliding up the blanket.
Bennie giggled happily. "No fear at all! They are soft like a feather." The tendrils began to tuck Bennie in, creating a cozy cocoon around him.
"Does it tuck you in when we're not there?" Stan inquired with a smile.
"Yes, it's by my side..." Bennie yawned, his voice growing sleepy, "...with tender care." He relaxed into his pillow, ready to drift off.
Stan concluded the rhyme, "So goodnight, dear child, to you so it seems. But what of the creature's own sweet dreams? Are they woven by starlight's gleam? With nighttime's magic like a gentle stream." He finished the rhyme and closed the door, leaving Bennie to his peaceful slumber.
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@fashionablyenigmatic
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