#they sort of just naturally evolved into who they are now

[raiiny-bay]

they've come a long way

[brutal-nemesis]

Time Day 2022: Castys Gets Grounded

This ain’t your average Castys torture 🤠 It’s set in a collab between me and @galaxywhump where Castys is stuck on SV-240 in the care of Motherfucking Daniel Rooney along with Wren (if you aren’t familiar with her series this is your sign to go read it pls thx (or at least read the synopsis so this makes a lil more sense ehe)) So uh yeah Daniel and Wren and the whole universe belong to Marti Castys just got reverse-isekai’d into it alrighty baby-

Castys Masterlist - SV-240 Masterlist

Ingredients: buried alive, immortal whumpee, suffocation, some head trauma and cracked ribs, starvation mention, muzzle, there is some dirt in the ol’ eyeballs, claustrophobia vibes (like Castys does not have claustrophobia but he is def in that kinda situation ya dig (omg im so funny)), worm on boy shenanigans but with extra spice

Castys wished he could at least find a comfortable position, but that was pretty hard with his wrists tied tightly behind his back, and the muzzle strapped to his face wasn’t helping matters either. Because god forbid he talk to himself while he was trapped in a fucking closet. And the worst part was, this wasn’t even the big boy punishment! Daniel, Danibus, Danimal, the dumb stupid Dan Man, had literally just tossed him in here with the verbose command to “wait” and left him to stew like a pot of soup. Castys wasn’t really stewing, though he was kind of hungry, now that he thought about it, because “unkillable vermin” don’t need to eat much, apparently. He was learning so many cool new things about his biology while he was stuck in this other world!

When the door opened, he was relieved for a second, because his boredom was over, but then he saw Daniel and remembered everything about Daniel and what Daniel thought was fun, and he wished he could ask him to just shut that door again, oh please mister sir Daniel sir I’ll be the goodest best boy for you if you’d just shut that so I don’t have to see your face for another half hour. Alas, he could not speak, so all he could do was stumble along as Daniel yanked him to his feet by the ring of his collar and pulled him out into the backyard. Wren was there, refusing to look him in the eye, covered in dirt and…and holding a shovel. There was a large pile of dirt next to him, too, and that meant…oh.

Castys stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, because Daniel would, he fucking would, this wasn’t an empty threat, he was going in that hole, going to have dirt thrown on top of him and be left alone in the dark for far too long. Stonefaced, Daniel just pulled harder, throwing Castys down into the unnecessarily deep hole. He landed hard on his side, the muzzle stifling his cry of pain. He quickly squirmed onto his back and tried to sit up, but Daniel hit him on the head with a shovel, causing pain to erupt in his forehead as he fell back onto the dirt, the clang of the metal colliding with his skull ringing in his ears. Before he’d collected himself enough to try again, a huge fucking rock landed on his chest, definitely cracking a few of his ribs. He glared up at Daniel, cursing into the muzzle as he struggled to breathe, but his captor simply began shoveling, dumping dirt right onto Castys’s face.

His eyes filled with the sting of dirt, Castys risked a glance at Wren, who quickly looked away and began shoveling, though he was much less aggressive than Daniel and also not actively trying to dump it on his face, which was greatly appreciated. Of course, he’d appreciate not being buried more, but sometimes you had to take what you could get. Which, in this place, wasn’t a lot. 

He quickly learned it was for the best just to keep his stupid eyes shut, finding it impossible to blink out the dirt that was already in them, resigning himself to a whole lot of uncomfortable stingy eyeball time. Pretty much all of this was uncomfortable, anyway, so he could switch up the focus to keep it fresh. Let’s see, there was the throbbing in his shoulder from landing on it, the itch of the ropes around his wrists, the sharp pain of his cracked ribs, the raging agony in his head from being hit with a shovel, the burn of his lungs as he lost access to fresh air, the ache in his jaw from having to wear a muzzle for so long, but, hey, at least it was keeping dirt out of his mouth and nose, so there was that. 

The weight pressing down on him had been growing heavier and heavier, the sound of shoveling getting quieter and quieter, and it suddenly awoke some kind of desperation in him, they were getting farther away from him, leaving him behind in the cold darkness, and he couldn’t try to keep still anymore, squirming as much as he could in the tight cocoon of earth, eyelids twitching, fingers curling, packing dirt under his fingernails, splintered chest heaving under the weight of the rock and the earth above him, his breaths coming out as whines, pleas, screams, don’t leave me down here, you can’t, please, please, but soon enough he ran out of air, left gasping weakly, only the sound of shovels scraping above him, getting fainter, fainter, fainter, and until there was nothing, nothing but the sound of his own pathetic wheezing, and that was dwindling too, sinking further into blackness, until finally…silence. 

No, no, there wasn’t silence. There was anything but silence when he woke up again. His own breathing aside, there was some sort of cracking noise, a faint rustling, scratching, popping, some other sound he didn’t quite know how to describe. He shuddered as much as he was able, the dirt pressing in on him from all sides making it nearly impossible to move at all. S-so…this was it, huh? This was his new reality for the time being. Still, he wouldn’t let it break him. That bastard Daniel seemed to want nothing more than to control every hair on Castys’s head, quite literally since he’d cut Castys’s hair short with that freaky buzzing tool of his, and controlling him completely was the last thing Castys would ever let anyone do. 

Well, okay, he played along sometimes, but not because he actually wanted to follow people’s orders or whatever, he either did it in pursuit of greater comedy or because he was just biding his time. Inside, he was always the same, perfectly himself, and that was something he’d never let anyone take away from him. Which, maybe now was a good time to reflect on what heinous in-character actions had gotten Danny so mad at him in the first place. Like, he was usually annoyed with Castys for just existing (which begs the question: why the hell was he so set on owning Castys, then?), but this time, well…

Really, it was simply because Castys had dared to wear a cat ear headband on Daniel and Wren’s precious date night. But, what, was he really going to wear that stupid fancy waiter outfit with its stupid suspenders and stupid too-tight bow tie and not do anything to make it more bearable? He supposed he also messed up the names of the dishes, but how the hell was he supposed to know anything about Mediaterrian cuisine? He’d never even heard of that country, let alone what everyone ate over there. So if that part wasn’t his fault, then he really was just being punished for wearing cat ears and “ruining the romantic atmosphere”. Since when were cat people not allowed to be romantic and serious, huh? Wren had seemed to have a great time, smiling and laughing more than usual, so clearly Daniel’s racist-ness against cat people was the issue, not Castys. Though it did make him wonder, why did Dannimus own cat ears in the first place…?

Was that the kind of reflecting he was supposed to do? Probably not, but it passed the time, and oh my god he had so much time. Really, he was surprised he’d been able to keep that chain of thought for so long since he’d suffocated and died like three times during it. Or maybe four, he wasn’t really counting, because why bother. Okay maybe it would help him keep track of how long he’d been down here, just so he’d know. But…that really wouldn’t do him any good, would it? It wouldn’t get him out faster, wouldn’t make the pain in his eyes and lungs and wrists go away, wouldn’t save him from the blackness and the noises and the crushing weight of the earth above him.

He shuddered, trying to take another useless breath. The air had gone stale long ago, leaving him with the barest moments of full clarity before a pounding headache set in, before his breaths grew rapid, hot air pushing out the edges of the muzzle, far too warm when everything else was far too cold, his fingers and toes tingling, numb, and he could hardly shiver, too tightly wrapped in the cool earth, time cycling through the same monotonous moments of agony, dragging him unwillingly along with it, losing his grip, falling, falling, and yet staying so completely still.

There was a light pattering above, too faint to be footsteps, and it wasn’t until Castys felt an ever deeper coldness seeping into him that he realized it was rain. How long had it been since he’d been buried? He didn’t remember there being a single cloud in the sky when he’d been thrown into this hole, so…he didn’t know. He didn’t know how long it had been, how long he’d been stuck down here, in the cold and the dark and the unending pain, and he didn’t know how much longer he still had to go, how much more of this he could take. Some of the water on his face was warm, now, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it, there wasn’t anything he could do at all, and that wasn’t fair, none of it was, but all he could do was wait.

He wasn’t sure how long the rain went on for, just that he was thoroughly soaked by the time the pattering stopped, but even then the water around him dried up so slowly that for a while he wasn’t even sure it was going to dry up at all. That, at least, was some indication that time was passing at all, that he wasn’t just dying and waking in the same moment over and over again. Not that there was any kind of magic here, no way for Daniel to actually put him in a time loop, not that he was sure it was even possible back home. Here it was all just strange machines powered by electricity, which was a type of magic, anyway, so that sort of made sense to him.

Castys was jerked out of the changeless void he’d settled in by something new, something small, something hot, contrasting the bone-deep chill that’d been surrounding him for what felt like ages, and from the way it was moving, it felt…alive. He squirmed as much as he was able to, trying to get it off, but it just kept going, creeping along up the skin of his arm, leaving blistering heat in its wake. A whine sounded in his throat as it crawled under the sleeve of his shirt, and as his consciousness faded once again, all he could do was hope it would be gone when he woke up.

It was not gone, sitting somewhere on his chest now, unmoving, its heat burning his skin more and more with every passing moment, hot enough that he was certain it was going to blister. Not that it mattered, really, since he would probably die dozens more times at the very least before they dug him up. 

If they dug him up.

No, no they had to, they would, Daniel wouldn’t just leave him down here forever, he liked tormenting him too much, right? A-and even then, Berkeley and Wren wouldn’t let him do that, they couldn’t, he was going to get out, he was going to see both of them again, he was, he had to. 

The little spot of flame on his chest was crawling around again, and as much as it hurt, he was almost grateful for it now, a factor of unpredictable change among the constancy of the suffocating darkness and his familiar deaths. The way it moved, how it hurt wherever it went, that was time, proof of every minute that passed by, that things really were moving along, as tortuously as they went. Still, he couldn’t help but be unsettled by it, by some weird unknown burning thing crawling around on him. Not that other things hadn’t been crawling around on him this whole time, because that seemed very likely, but because this one was impossible to ignore or write off as dirt shifting around him or tingling numbness.

    When it left him, though, quietly throbbing burns the only evidence that it had happened at all, he wished it would come back. Soon enough he died and the burns were gone and he was still there, still stuck, with no way to tell if that had even happened at all. He was so used to the pain and the cold now that he didn’t even notice them anymore, so nothing was changing, he was just lost in the dark again with no way to tell if he was getting any closer to getting out of this hell. 

    After…he didn’t know how long, that wasn’t something he could know anymore, just that it happened after the burning thing, if that had happened at all, there were noises, louder than the usual ones he had grown used to, above him, scraping, and it took him a moment to register what they were, what they meant, but once he realized it, he felt the first spark of happiness he’d felt in…hours? Days? Weeks? No, it didn’t matter now, all that mattered was that it was over, he was getting out he didn’t even care what was waiting for him out there because he was-

    The tip of the shovel plunged into his stomach, just as he got enough air to scream.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump​ @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ @hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ @starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump​ @painsandconfusion​ @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​

[luciddownloading]

Astrology Observations: Scorpio Edition ☠️

🦂In doing these observations, I like breaking down the differences between the Sun, Moon and Rising in a sign. With Scorpio, I look at each as the different elements of a crime scene.

(These are analogies/metaphors, btw. Please don't take this literally)

Scorpio Rising is like the detective. They are investigators, obsessive thinkers, and will dig and dig until they find the info they need. It is very hard to hide around them because they will ask questions, get in your head, and figure out your motives. Most people don't know what they're doing and the extent of their manipulation. But, like the detective, this skill can be used for good.

Scorpio Sun is the murder victim. And, hold on, I am not saying they are weak or powerless. It's more so that the metaphorical "deaths" they have to endure end up shaping who they are. And, like a murder victim, they become very well-known for how they "died", whether it was through heartbreak, betrayal, career/financial loss, mental health struggles/breakdowns, etc. But, the good thing is that they learn that any kind of death is only a transformation.

Scorpio Moon is the killer. As nice and charming as this person may appear (and genuinely be), there is a fierce, sometimes even ruthless instinct within. It's just about learning how to destroy what needs to be killed off, in a positive/constructive sense. But, heaven help those who fuck around and find out. Like a killer, they can be both vaguely intimidating but also the last person you'd expect. Their dark or ferocious side can catch people off guard and that intensity is not only unmatched but can rage out of control if not managed.

(All three placements have a little of each archetype in them but each displays these respective energies the most)

🦂 People with Scorpio placements = love of horror movies. Most of the time, anyway. Especially Scorpio Sun, Moon or Rising. This obsession may begin young and even extend to a fascination with true crime. This is my Moon sign and I loved horror and serial killer documentaries so much growing up that I got side-eyed a few times lol. (But, now, of course, that's become trendy)

🦂 Scorpio Venus people are not necessarily the die-hard, super-serious, "I love you so I must breathe your oxygen" relationship types that they're made out to be. Some of them channel a lot of that intensity into the sexual part of relationships while remaining casual or emotionally unavailable otherwise. So, this placement can be as much of a player or serial dater as anyone. That just may not exactly be how they want to act deep down.

🦂 Those with Mercury in Scorpio usually have some skill with divination, whether or not they are tapped into it. They could make excellent astrologers or Tarot readers. Some of them are naturally good at spell work, as well, or could be skilled mediums or channelers.

🦂 There are two types of Scorpio Risings: 1) the ones who give you witchy or sexy vampire vibes (and who may identify with either archetype) 2) the ones who seem like adorable, harmless elfin/fae beings who are much more powerful than they initially appear.

🦂 Scorpio people look great in all black and this isn't limited to the Venus or Rising sign. It is a power move of sorts and a way to honor one's shadow self (which every self-respecting Scorpio person will thrive on). Also, try black boots, ultra-high heels for those who wear them, and anything sheer like mesh or lace.

🦂 Scorpio Moon people are either very naturally seductive/erotic/alluring (even if they don't try or aren't aware of it) or has the sex appeal of a bowl of mashed potatoes, even though they may try very hard to be sexy. Sexiness can vary with Scorpio people and does tend to exist in extremes. But, since the Moon is what comes instinctively, this is truest for them. They either have it or they don't.

🦂 Scorpio Mars people can be very, VERY petty. This is the lower expression of it. The evolved ones will have a past of vindictive behavior or holding ridiculous grudges but learn to rise above that. And I mean ridiculous grudges. Like, "you ate the last slice of pizza that I wanted two years ago and I haven't forgotten it".

🦂 Scorpio Suns and daddy issues go together like peanut butter and jelly. In most cases, either the father figure walks out on them or dies during their upbringing or they just have a super-complicated relationship.

🦂 It's hard to find a sign that is more proud of their sign than Scorpio. Virgo's may outdo them (because so many Virgos LOVE telling you they're a Virgo lol) but they're up there. This extends to the Moons and Risings, as well. They are quite likely to get a tattoo of the Scorpio symbol or a scorpion or phoenix or eagle.

[throneofsapphics]

finding you again prologue

Azriel x f!Reader

summary: after he ended your relationship, you didn’t expect Azriel to pop into your life again - and you’re not happy about it

warnings: angst, drinking

a/n: here's the start to the mini series from this poll! if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, you can comment under here or send me an ask/message!

part one

“Why?” You ran a hand through your hair. “Can you at least give me a reason?” 

“I told you. It’s not working.” Pity shone in Azriel’s eyes, and it made you want to break something. There was more he wasn’t saying, it was obvious to you, just as it was obvious he wouldn’t deign to share. 

“Then get out,” your voice was colder than you’d ever heard it. Enough that he blinked, and it brought a sick sense of satisfaction to you. “Out,” you repeated, not sure how much longer you could keep the tears in. 

He backed up slowly, one hand reaching behind to open the door, before slipping out. You missed the lingering look they shot your way, already having turned your back. With the click of the door, you grabbed the nearest glass and launched it across the room, a guttural scream leaving your chest. 

-

He lingered in the hallway, listening to shattering glass, your scream of pure pain, and hated themselves for a brief moment. He hadn’t lied to you, it wasn’t working. 

Whether you knew it or not wasn’t of any consequence to him. He did love you, genuinely, and part of him ached at the pain he was causing, but it was better than drawing out the inevitable. He’d loved you, but not enough to spend the rest of your lives together. It didn’t feel right to keep going when he knew you felt differently.

Still, he had to fight the desire to go back in and comfort you. 

His footsteps were soft down the hall, the stairs, the street, to the night that left an uncomfortable itch on his skin. 

-

Everything seemed fine. Not a damn indication something was wrong, but you should’ve known better - he was trained to hide his emotions, to keep secrets, but for a few years you’d let yourself believe you meant something to him. Let that pathetic hope fill you, that it might evolve into something more, that you could be his one. 

His face flashed across your mind, unwelcomed. That pity, like you were some miserable creature that would be broken by this 

Maybe you were broken, right now, but you decided to give yourself a day. 24 hours, and then you’d pull yourself together. 

But for now … a perfectly good bottle of red wine sat on your counter, one wine glass left standing. It would do. 

-

His shadows, half with a mind of their own, still followed you - still trailed to check you were fine. It was normal, expected, of course. You’d spent a few years together, although in secret, it was natural he’d still care for you. 

But, after a year passed he started to … wonder. Had he made a mistake? Through whispers in his ear, he trailed your life. Healers training, like you always said you would, a few new friends, new lovers that came and went, and eventually your departure from Velaris - sent to an outlying island as a new healing post. There was pride, pride he didn’t have any claim to feel, but it persisted nonetheless.

-

Prythian shut down, and you were one of the few who knew of a safe haven - although you couldn’t speak of it, or recall how to access it. Velaris. Each time the word came to the tip of your tongue, each time it was prominent in your mind, your throat dried up - chest clenched hard enough you lost your breath. It happened frequently enough your friends worried there was some sort of medical issue, and you forced yourself not to think of it. 

There’d been one last command from your High Lord - to lie low, and stay away, with one image flashing through your mind - the Holy Mountain for all of Prythian. Now cursed. Four simple words, one horrid curse, and you were cut off from all of your family and the friends you’d known for years. 

After 45 years, you wondered if they would still remember you like you did them. If one day you’d hug your little sister again. Would she remember you? She’d only been 10 the last time you saw each other, a day before you left, your chest clenched, throat tightening. Before you’d left home.  

You’d ached to leave the city and explore, and now all you wanted was to return. 

-

He thought of you often. Stuck outside of Velaris, with no way back. Not for the first time, he resented the decision Rhys made to keep them away. He hoped you’d gotten some kind of warning, that you were still alive out there. 

Azriel found himself checking on people he’d only heard of in passing. Everyone who’d been important to you in your life. Your younger sister growing, how your name was always met with worried looks and hushed tones, how over the years she stopped asking after you, how you seemed to disappear from everyone’s minds. 

Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who remembered you. 

[ayaboba]

DAY 9: WE DON’T WANT YOU CATCHING A COLD, DO WE? ❅⋆⍋

summary: them giving you their jacket in the cold.

characters: childe, baizhu, wriothesley, xiao.

notes: 3rd time the charm? fluff, gn! reader, wc: 300ish each.

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ dreamy december event masterlist

childe

Hailing from Snezhnaya, Childe was entirely aware of his resistance to chilly weather, the immunity was practically infused in his veins. The lifelong exposure to frigid winds and crystalline icicles had played a prominent role throughout his timeline, so it was only correct for him to possess such characteristics evolved through experience.

That being said, Childe was not unaware of his resilience in comparison to foreigners in his homeland; in fact, he buoyantly revelled in it. It was an advantage in his eyes, a quality that should be boisterously paraded for the unfortunate souls that could never delight in beholding such a divinely useful attribute. Childe was never ignorant, however, he never let the trailer of playfulness extend to the wrong audience, he had a particular selection of people he simply rejoiced in teasing, and you seemed to be one of the lucky few.

There are days when you have to sacrifice your health just a teensy bit, perhaps risking a cold for a perfectly coordinated outfit. He didn’t have to know, all Childe needs to do is compliment you on your remarkable taste in fashion.

But that’s not all Childe notices, his gaze catches the sequence of goosebumps, the subtle shivers and quivers in your voice, and he feels the thin strings of his heart tighten just a little bit. He’ll murmur the showers of compliments, but not after shoving you his jacket and tucking you neatly under his arm.

baizhu

It happens every year—an unceasing mountain of patients all suffering the same case—which is easily avoidable with the right precautions.

Yet Baizhu ensures to remind them all, gently and tenderly as they finish their checkups with the concocted medicine in hand. As he strongly believes, there is no point being stern when you can be soft-spoken and understanding. This way, as he has observed over the years, always proves more effective results and happier patients, and being a doctor, Baizhu knows the benefits stemming from a greater abundance of positive emotions.

Perhaps it was because of his nature, his eulogised nurturing manner responsible for his revered words and actions commended as significantly noble. Nevertheless, you admired it immensely. Taking care of the sick required many precise skills that demanded only someone who possessed a vast amount of goodwill and patience.

So, really, how else did you think he’d react when he saw what you were wearing in such weather?

Baizhu certainly commends it as a lovely choice of complimentary clothing and mentally applauds you for it, but he can’t help but extend his concern. It’s subtle, all he desires is for you to please take care of yourself, and if you particularly needed anything, just remember that he was always available; he’ll manage somehow, because it’s you.

There are some small exceptions, occurrences where you needn’t ask for him to know, but that doesn’t really matter right now. Just make sure to thank him for that jacket engulfing you most lusciously, because although he attempts to conceal it, those goosebumps lining his arm are just as visible as your smile.

wriothesley

Spending more and more time with Wriothesley has given the chance for you to perceive and confirm a myriad of assumptions and strange quirks about his personality.

In all honesty, you admit there were more pros than cons. The Duke of the Fortress of Meriopide seemed to exponentially bleed extravagance, which was truthfully a little stupid, because although he was a noteworthy figure throughout Fontaine, he sincerely wasn’t the type to feast in glamour or grandeur, or anything similar of the sort. Well, publicly, at least.

It’s a sweet surprise when Wriothesley most charmingly invites you for a night out. It’s not that he wants to hide your relationship (quite the contrary, actually), but he absolutely despises when people decide to inconveniently prowl into the specifics of someone’s private life, and being Fontaine, it would likely be scripted into a melodramatic love story featuring heart-wrenching betrayals and exaggerated standards in romance.

Being with Wriothesley elicits emotions that feel subjected to only him; he’s the exception. These new feelings are ravaging your mind in countless cycles, gifting you a dangerously addictive rush that spreads through your body like a wildfire. He likes to remind you that he does, in fact, notice your reaction to his looming presence, and he does it without an ounce of hesitation.

“You seem to shiver as soon as I get a little too close,” he states matter-of-factly as you browse the night stalls scattered throughout the city. “I assume it's only because you’re cold, right?”

That 'right' is said so excruciatingly slow, like he wants to let it reverberate through your bones, so that you get the message that he knows it, knows how to get you so deliciously feverish.

“Have my jacket, darling. We don’t want you catching a cold, do we?”

xiao

Was he really that interesting?

Although he spends an unhealthy amount of time ambling about his insecurities and his self-image, Xiao has never considered whether he could’ve been fascinating enough to have piqued someone’s curiosity. Someone who found him interesting probably was crippling from some mad sickness without a cure.

Your hopeful face is almost persuasive enough to let him say yes, almost.

Seriously, in what universe was he going to allow you to fight monsters with him? Yes, you were an admirable fighter equipped with a vast set of skills and stamina, but if you slipped for a mere split second, he could regret this decision for the rest of eternity.

Then comes the deal.

You explain that if you can’t go slaughter the monsters, then would Xiao approve of simply tagging along? If that doesn’t convince him, surely a genuine promise of being aware of the surroundings should sweeten the agreement, right?

It seems you have won the prize of an evening stroll accompanied by Xiao.

The first ten minutes are pleasant, bestowing a treasured memory for both, but as the sun sets and the winds begin to pick up, the temperature is getting a little too cool for liking. All you can do is try to retain your body heat by holding your body a little more tightly as you watch Xiao destroy a camp of hillichurls nearby.

“Xiao!” you call out to him once he’s finished decimating the site. “I’m going to head back now!”

With some magical precision of an adeptus, he teleports to where you’re standing, his face is strangely not confused but rather…stern?

“You’re cold, aren’t you?” he announces with the air of a strict mother. “I know you wouldn’t plead to accompany me just to return home after fifteen minutes. Here,” he nods, a woollen jacket displayed in his arms. “Put it on as we walk back.”

[l8dyvenus]

astrology observations. #5

+ Moon in 4th tend to look for partners that remind them of their mothers. If placed in a man’s chart, I typically see this as them going for older women. 👩‍👦

regardless, If you want to bag a cancer placement man, nurture him or act like his mother. It will literally do the trick🙃trust me, I know, it’s literally how I bagged my boyfriend. but be careful, they most definitely have breeding kicks especially mixed w Virgo.

and if they are ethnic, learn more about the culture or ask about it. take trips to their homeland too! or just simply do your own research to impress them.

+ it’s true, Libra suns run from conflict or ignore it. and if mixed with Water placements in a chart, they tend to lie to try to keep the peace. sometimes it does backfire on them.

+ Leo moons, did your mom always try to humble you?

+ Cancers and Taurus’s go so well together 🥹

+ I noticed that people who’s planet(s) fall into my 8th house tend to give/buy me things everytime I see them. I literally don’t even have to ask. they give me more compliments and find me pretty than people who’s planets fall into my 1st. 🤣

As a 8th house Stellium, I loveeeee people who fall into my 8th house, never had an bad encounter we just always clicked🫶🏾.

+ read a post that said Mars in 4th H takes on which ever parent shows that aggressive impatience nature and whewww, they didn’t have to read me like that 🤭.

+ a Scorpio moon once told me, “if they are not obsessed with me, I just don’t think they like me fr” LMFAOOO

+ All Scorpio moons aren’t as bad as portrayed to be, it really just depends on their relationship with their mother. I see this placement as like having a Cancer/4th house moon. even though Scorpio is at fault in this position, it shows greatly that the mother has a MAJOR influence and role on how they act, respond, their mindset, and characteristics. and all Scorpio moons and their relationship with their mothers are not bad either. but they could be over smothering. either a light helicopter parent, or a over the extent helicopter parent. I noticed that it depends on how well the moon is aspected. when the moon is negatively aspected, the moon person typically takes on the toxic characteristics and personality of their mothers which makes them destructive and “bad” as the stereotype. when not negatively aspecting, they are much more self/socially aware and conscious. not saying that negative aspected moons can’t be more self evolved, but they tend to have the shorter end of the stick. they just have take that journey to get there.

I met a Scorpio moon where his moon was well aspected with trines and sextiles to harmonious planets. His mother wasn’t abusive, narcissistic or any of that sort. Scorpio moon people typically were born at a time where it was very inconvenient traumatic time for the parents, especially the mother. This showed up in his chart as his mother being over protective and overly affectionate. Not necessarily an over the extent “helicopter” parent, but he would tell me she calls him everyday, sends him bible scriptures, tried to put him in the best schools, best positions in life to be better or have better than she had. Although majority of the choices she made for him, is not what he wanted, he knows that it’s from the good intentions of her heart. Pluto = evolution, death/rebirth, betterment, etc, so her actions showed up as wanting to protect him in her own traumatic way but also wanting him to evolve into something better.

+ Justice from the movie Poetic Justice definitely had Venus in the 8th H 💌

side note - I feel like erykah badu does too. I saw a post saying that every man she dealt with when they met her weren’t self evolve, then after their relationship they were all into the occult and dressed bohemian lmfaooo. like literally, search up erykah badu and the guys she dated, how they look then and now.

+ Neptune in the 4th, is it just me or is it hard to get anything done in your house without feeling tired? I have a lot of energy outside of my home, but when I get to my moms place I feel lazy and especially depressive. It’s hard for me to do anything. I didn’t realize that until I recently left for college then came back for visits, and then permanently stayed. Lmk 👄?

+ a Uranus dom or heavily placed in a males chart most definitely likes to paint his own nails. I don’t know if he is or not, but search up Dennis Rodman. He gives me Uranus Dom Vibes.

+ on the topic of Uranus, Aquarius, Leo, & Virgo placements in 8th degree are very experimental, but they can be deep into things like the dark web, bdsm, smut, abusive sex, etc. like really dark sexual shit.

+ Capricorn placements and the dying urge to crack the hell out of every bone in their body just for fun >> 😼

+ Aquarius moons tend to run to their friends for every thing, especially when it comes to family matters. friends could be an outlet for venting. But I noticed they tend to have a weird relationship with them. One minute they can have a lot of close friends and the next, those same close friends aren’t very close anymore.

+ water placements (especially moons) pay attention to how you feel around ppl. that is your biggest gift.

Anyways, CIAO! 😽

MASTERLIST

[saturncoyote]

Wasn't that happy with my canon slugcat designs so i decided to upgrade em ! Much happier with them now

updated headcanons under the cut :-)

Survivor & Monk Your average slugcats, ordinary members of their species, two siblings of the same litter, Monk being a runt. They both have matching ear scars.

Nightcat Melanistic slugcat, distant relative of Monk and Survivor's. They are rarely seen during the day and so have become a sort of cryptid in the eyes of both scavengers and other slugcats.

Spearmaster Only a few of the holes in their tail actually create spikes that are big and sturdy enough to be used as weapons, the smaller holes instead constantly create smaller, more fragile spikes that either eventually break or naturally fall off. Their fur is spiky to the touch, tough not necessarily dangerous.

Artificer Their "fur" is actually thick scar tissue that was left untreated and hardened creating a mass of stiff skin. They also have a dewlap but it shrunk due to malnutrition along with their now skinny tail. Their teeth are gold yellow and their saliva is explosive, when unarmed they will spit as a threat display.

Rivulet A subspecies of slugcat that evolved to be semiaquatic, their big wet eyes allow them to see underwater, they have third eyelids and their long slim body facilitates swimming and makes them quite agile. Their fur is much shorter instead they secrete an oily substance that protects their skin and keeps them moist.

Gourmand A normal slugcat, just one that's very good at survival, they have a dewlap aswell as a big round tail, the sign of a healthy specimen as their tail stores extra fat.

Hunter Common slugcat who was iterator modified at a very young age, their rot bumps very often itch and are quite irritating while their rot "tentacles" are very short but will still gravitate towards smaller creatures and attempt to grab them if they come too close. The scars on their tail were early attempts to remove their own rot.

Saint Another slugcat subspecies, one that was able to adapt to the extreme cold, they are very small in size but make up for it with their dense fur. Their saliva is thick to protect their tongue from frostbite.

[weebsinstash]

As much as I want to have children by this man, let's take a moment to sip our platonic yandere Miguel juice

-i can't decide which sex he'd be more partial to in a 'child'/you since in the movie there was Gabriella but in the comics he eventually has a son who becomes the next Spiderman but--

-as a girl i just naturally think of a lot of those sorts of gender specific ideas 👉👈 he's this big scary hulking intimidating threat and his "daughter" is the one melting his cold exterior

-doesnt matter if you're a grown ass woman, Miguel sees you struggling to braid your hair and suddenly here he is, full dad mode, doing it for you,and depending on how close you two are, maybe he disguises it with "ugh, stop spending so much time messing around with that. If I do it for you will you get back to work? 🙄", but really it's just your new self proclaimed dad/tio wanting to help braid your hair and help you feel pretty and, oh, how he can fondly remember the last time he helped braid "his daughter's" hair...

-of course this evolves to him just loving to do things with your hair. Braid it, wear it natural, style it, use products on it, hes got you. you were just trying to put your hair in a lazy updo like a ponytail or bun and this man doesn't let you leave until he's got you completely combed out, hair braided with ribbons, and of course this entire time youre awkwardly sitting there in a chair in his absolute cave of a workstation with this gargantuan 6'9 man there, "so how was your day? Staying out of trouble?"

-really I mean. Is stealing other people's kids NOT technically in character for him. You're unfortunate enough to trauma bond with this man and you're never getting rid of him

-you hear Miles Morales call him tio (as in the tio meaning dude) and you jokingly teasingly start calling him tio, which Miguel secretly pretends is the version that means uncle. You're just constantly joking around or looking up at him with these big pouty eyes, "but tio 🥺 can't I PLEASE--" and its like. Lmao people know that if they need to ask Miguel for a favor, that it increases their chances to have you ask in their stead

- I mean, as a female adult abused as a child by my own father, raised by a single mom myself, like...

Reader flinches away when Peter B goes to give you a supportive pat on the back or comes in for a high five after a mission and you force yourself to laugh because you're feeling more than just a little awkward and in the spotlight. "Oh, sorry, that was dumb!" And they eventually get you to kind of anxiously word vomit "my dad used to just kind of, rough me up sometimes when I did something wrong! It-it could've been a lot worse honestly, but, it-it just makes me kinda jumpy around guys sometimes! It's not a big deal, or personal or anything. I'm sorry if I made you feel bad 🥺"

Peter B, Jessica, and Miguel all there as older parental figures and also literal parents, immediately exchange looks and agree like "oh hell naw, don't like that" and you get silently adopted by all three of em right then and there

-if it's a physically abusive father and you're still the victim of abuse, I imagine your dad had some suspicious figures suddenly show up in the middle of the night to terrify and threaten the shit out of him and suddenly you aren't getting as manhandled anymore

-can you imagine, like, you show up to Spider Society one day with a black eye "oh, this? It's, it's nothing. My dad is just, he's about to make police captain and he's really stressed about it is all" cue all your friends mentally high fiving around the table because your abusive piece of shit dad is going to die and you don't even know. When it happens they'll all be "oh no, sweetie, I'm SOOOO sorry :(" meanwhile they're thrilled bc now you don't have any parents and they can weasel in there as your new family, schedule your birthday parties, monopolizing more of your time, things like that

-goddd I just imagine it could become some kind of weird fucked up enmeshed scenario where the structure it's providing for your life is actually good for you meanwhile Miguel is like, retroactively kind of soothing some of his trauma both from his own childhood and what happened with the second universe he broke that it's just like. You're a grown ass adult and this man is tucking you in goodnight and saying "te amo, mija" at the doorway and you bet his ass is going to stand there and not let you sleep until you say it back. He knows you're just absolutely seething at him and he'll still refuse to leave without a grumbling "te amo, papá 🙄"

-He eventually just has you doing so much shit and depending on him so much that it starts to become second nature to you. one day you're in the Society doing one of the odd jobs you're allowed to help with and suddenly you're thinking, "Ugh I actually don't know what to do next, I wish Papá was here to-- WAIT SHIT NO I MEAN MIGUEL--"

-lmaooooo as a non Spanish speaker I keep thinking of how awwwwwful it would be if he actually forces you to learn Spanish. Not inherently because there's anything wrong with Spanish, but, I'm not always smart, and I can just SEE him quizzing your ass, forcing you to have entire conversations in Spanish, always clicking his tongue or chuckling at you when you make a mistake and he just thinks you're so cute struggling to learn 🥰 man hears you're trying to take extra lessons from Miles and he instantly drops everything he's doing to go track the little scamp down. Insert meme "I can forgive being an anomaly but I draw the line at teaching Reader bad Spanish"

-siiiiiiigh eventually the day comes when you're in big danger and you need his help, maybe you disobeyed him and was hanging out with some other Spiders in another dimension when there was a sudden villain attack, and he comes to your rescue as a villain does something dramatic like has a gun to your head or a knife to your neck and the second you see him you're just overwhelmed wirh a sense of relief, calling out for him, calling him dad/tio/papá whatever, and he's just like 😭❤️ pumping his fist internally, like YES you are so grounded when you get back home but also 🥰 you finally called him dad without him having to twist your arm 🥰 nevermind if the "villain" who kidnapped you was actually a Spider who owed him a favor, and this whole thing was to teach you a lesson about listening to your Papá, that's not important ❤️

-Miguel who forces you to learn Spanish vs Miguel who forces you to be Catholic. I can excuse kidnapping and forced adoption but I draw the line at making me practice religion 💀 no but seriously, he probably does have certain morals and values he instills/forces upon you if he thinks you need them, and he'll probably be one of those fathers, "are you leaving the house dressed like that? Go change" and orders you not to hang out with certain people he doesn't approve of or thinks have bad character (like hobie lmao)

-bruh you two will be on a super serious important mission and this man will be like "it's dark, hold my hand so we dont get separated"

Eventually it comes to a point where you're, not perfectly behaved but, just about. If someone finds Miguel, it means you're not very far away, or vice versa. Members of the Society quickly learn not to make any advances on you or make any "adult" comments unless they want to get suspiciously hurt during a personal training session by the big boss himself. You think you're safe just cause Miguel isn't around? Nah, cause then you have Peter B and Jess keeping an eye on you, and, not that YOU'RE aware of the extent, but, if Miguel ever gets worried, he can just ask Lyla what you've been getting up to, since your modified little daypass has her installed into it and she can track your every move ❤️ helicopter parent? Oh honey, you have NO idea...

[ayeforscotland]

Welcome!

Hello, I'm AyeforScotland and I've been here for too long. AyeforScotland started off as a Scottish politics blog campaigning for Scottish independence but has since evolved into whatever the hell this is. The fight for Scottish independence continues - I love answering asks about it. And naturally I also discuss wider UK and International politics as well.

Politics FAQ

However, it can't all be doom and gloom - and I suppose I'm kinda 'creative' too so AyeforScotland naturally grew arms and legs and I'll list all the other stuff I do down below👇👇👇

As modest as I try to be, I'm particular proud of the community surrounding this blog and in my discord (YOU SHOULD JOIN). These are people like you who are reading this now who have educated me on a variety of topics over the past decade - and I'm still learning from them daily. I've also ran some amazing 24 hour hour charity streams for a range of charities across Scotland and the UK. So far those charities are the TIE Campaign, The Equality Network, Endometriosis UK, Galop, War Child & Cats Protection. I also co-host @theayesphere podcast every week with the wonderful @thebibliosphere. We chat about everything from politics to entertainment media, and do deep dives on games, TV and films!

Commissions

I regularly get messages asking to read, review and advise on Scottish dialogue as well as lend my voice to various projects. Commissions are open on Ko-Fi for this type of work. Just get in touch with your project and we'll get sorted.

Click here for all links

Discord - The home of the community - Filled with amazing people

Twitch - I play a variety of games on Twitch, I enjoy everything but like to focus on narrative, indie experiences. I also run community interaction games which are always a great laugh. Ko-Fi - My Ko-fi is for people who would like to support me in all the various bits and pieces I do to inform and entertain. It is hugely appreciated and often straight-up reinvested into providing more for you all. YouTube - I have a YouTube Channel I try to make content for when I can. I want to do more but time has been against me recently but there's some video essays I'm very proud of. There's also a separate AyeforScotlandVODs channel for my Twitch streams.

TikTok - Tends to be me ranting about politics or funny Twitch Highlights Twitter - The dying platform - Tumblr is far superior but you can support me as a creator there if you like. There's a few other links but I don't want this post to take forever. If you need anything or have any questions, my asks and DMs are open. Yours for Scotland, Aye

[meanbossart]

Hi!! I don't know if this has been asked before, but I was curious about the DU Drow's relationship with our dear little wretch Sceleritas Fel! What's their dynamic like? Btw love love love your Drow. You made him so freaky and fun, I should not but by god I want to chew on that man

THANK YOU SO MUCH! Oh boy, I love Sceleritas Fel a lot and I feel like they had a pretty in depth relationship.

The way I wrote DU drow's backstory involves him being almost solely in Sceleritas company for a couple of years. I really took the line "You always needed a lot of assistance" that you get from him to heart - Sceleritas didn't just serve idly, he was a grim cheerleader and sponsor who, for whatever reason (I guess just inherit nature - this is his whole life's purpose after all) would have always been eager to see DU drow succeed. After He killed his matron and Sceleritas finally appeared, he became a near-constant companion in leading him out of the Underdark and through the surface, save for seldom times where he was just gone for a little while, but never for longer than a couple of days.

As a pre-adolescent and through young adulthood (And eventual bhaal...hood) I picture their relationship evolving pretty drastically. child/pre-teen DU drow was a badly socialized feral child with very little grasp on reality, I think he assumed Sceleritas was some sort of figment of his imagination for a very long time - but followed his instructions nonetheless as he had no other direction in life. He was near-mute and seemingly lacking cognitive capabilities/self preservation instincts, so when Sceleritas said go, he'd go. When the butler would point at something he could kill and eat, he would try (and at the start, usually fail) when Sceleritas told him to seek shelter from the elements or danger, he would do it. When he came into contact with people who seemed to have his best interest in mind (concerned travelers and the odd kindly city person whenever he happened to be passing through a town) and Sceleritas told him not to trust them, to take whatever advantage he could from the situation and, often, kill them, he'd do just that. It was almost as if Sceleritas was the master and he was the thrall.

As he grew a little older (15 and on) and his skills in survival and cunning had been honed, as well as him growing a little more talkative, the dynamic would begin to flip; not only that, but DU drow would slowly grow more and more frustrated and skeptical of Sceleritas promises that he was leading him to his supposed destiny, and would try to press him for what that even entailed - Sceleritas would never fold or tell him anything (he didn't want to ruin the suprise!) and instead just reassured DU drow that if he could just outlast his circumstances for a little longer, that he would eventually be greatly rewarded - that he just needed to prove himself first.

This is also around the time where DU Drow first killed him in what was probably a fit of anger and frustration; a decision he immediately regretted and panicked about, since he was so reliant on his guidance and Sceleritas was essentially the only reason he had to keep on living - but when the butler just popped back up after a few days later (he figured it would be good to scare him a little bit!) and DU drow realized he was immortal, it became a habit to take his frustrations out on him.

After a while of finally joining the temple and learning of his status as Bhaal's progeny, DU Drow would completely grow into the role of Sceleritas superior and master. He was tyrannous and demeaning and Sceleritas loved it, of course. He was still very attached to his assistance, but now it mostly applied to trivial things and everyday necessities; fetching and sending off mail, arranging his meals and meetings, keeping track of his schedule, cleaning and organizing his space, every so often playing little pranks on the other bhaalists and Orin, and, of course, aiding with DU drow's constant bouts of violence and cruelty, as well as every so often listening as he vented his frustrations at him. He took Sceleritas everywhere - DU drow most definitely didn't need him anymore, he simply wanted him around (to the despair of most people).

Sceleritas would also... Gently criticize him for some of his choices, specially DU drow's masochistic penchant and his obsession with Orin - which was usually met with a swift demise at DU drow's hands for daring to question him. Simultaneously, he would enable the same habits by complying with DU drow's orders of arranging for his wounds to be cared for or keeping close track of Orin's schedule, conversations and habits for him when requested.

If we're talking main campaign, tadpoled DU drow was understandably surprised by the visits he received from this tiny dapper gremlin LOL but he very quickly fell into his flattery like second-nature. It was only around Act 2 where he began to turn on Sceleritas for trying to order him around (telling him he should kill Isobel) and obviously for setting him up to kill Astarion, seeing the butler as an enemy and traitor from that point forward even though he would remain inexplicably fond of the little guy throughout.

[0daylighthours0]

My Mother's Unbiased Byler + Milkvan Opinions - Viewing ST for the 1st Time!

(UPDATE)

My Mama has now witnessed Stranger Things in its entirety. Her favourite season was the third, her favourite characters Hopper and Joyce, her favourite pairing would be those guys too, and her most disliked pairing? Can only assume.

I wanted to write out her thoughts on the second to last episode previously, as she'd held many, but before I knew it we'd finished the whole show and I was forced to an income of NEW opinions which ruled out my memory of any old ones. Shucks. But boy did this lady have much to say. The only way I can break it down is by providing a sample of quotes she'd delivered, in order, a day after having finished the series.

All are just things she said about milkvan and byler, as they're this post's main focus. There's simply much to say about these relationships too, being so up in the air over where they ought be expected to turn out. These are all direct quotes too (as I typed as she talked, unkown to her) so you'll have to excuse the natural way in which some lines come off as unfocused, being written after real time conversations. Let's get into it:

Ok I really don't know whether she likes Mike very much. She actively disliked the guy earlier on, and now her feelings appear to be more mixed. A lot of her discussion was solely around this guy's actions.

"It's almost like he's [Mike] forcing himself like- ok Hopper he was kind of very passionate and kissing, you know he sort of instantly- with Mike, from being obsessed and spending so much time with her [El], suddenly he starts cooling off more and more and suddenly- they even separated right? I mean yeah that was out of his control but he, but he didn't really seem like he missed her you know it's like he just got on with it."

This point caught me off guard. I don't know how much I agree with my mother on this. It made me realize that during Mike and El's separation, there weren't many quiet Mike moments in which he expressed worry for her, beyond a couple that blend into him simply having breakup concerns. Any time Mike mentions distress for her whilst she's away, his talk evolves into him simply anxious over the state of their relationship. As a group, everyone in our Cali gang clearly wanted to save Eleven, but Mike really should have gotten more heartfelt moments in solitude (that means without Will you suffer bros) in which it is demonstrated to the audience that he really does miss her, as someone who is in love. Her being away shouldn't simply come off as a writing excuse for him to vent to Will. There wasn't enough of that tenderness milkvan desperately needs, and if anything I watched was an attempt then it really wasn't translated well - never trumping everyone else's familial or close frienship-like fret for El, never showcasing his concern to come from a more personal place. I mean how hard is it to have him in her room, staring longingly at a photo of hers, with a background composed of soft music. Then literally leaving it at that. I mean that is it. No Will rushing in there to insist, "you can tell her that thing when you see her k? It'll all work out trust me ight, you're the heart you're the HEART!" que affectionate gazes, constructs a byler scene for no reason I guess .

"I mean how do we know that he missed Will? He articulated it. Why didn't he articulate this the same way to El?"

True. I mean the fact that I can't remember a moment after they find El in which milkvan ask oneanother how they are, and communicate how much they missed eachother, does indeed say something. They shared a hug and touch when they first reunited, which was gladly interrupted by Will. That pineapple + pizza thing was not long enough, or sensitive enough, to be their moment. There was clear bonding, but it didn't breach a level of romance and chemistry nearly decently. It's good that they got at least that, I mean we need to know that these guys are at LEAST really close friends. And then the camera just felt like panning over to Will about to burst into tears in a corner. Like huh? Bruv you've now made it so that milkvan's pizza bit leaves a bad taste in our mouths. If I were a milkvan I'd be furious.

"You know what, I think it's done purposefully to create that sort of cold, distant, confused, you know they wanted to make people say he's [Mike] bisexual. For people to question. They want to get people to think that."

My Mama believes writers intentionally soured milkvan for viewers to "confuse" audiences, build up anticipation, make them question milkvan's relationship and wonder if our main man will spin to Will. I agree. They want that good ol' triangle comeuppance.

"They really are trying to bring that across- so that people start thinking Mike, you know he doesn't love El, he loves Will. They're really trying to, make people think that. Giving them [milkvan] a really nitty gritty relationship."

Yup.

"When you're gay. Coming out like that it's- it's terrifying. You have to be very careful. And Will could, he could tell. You know when someone is attracted to you. I think, things became sort of- sort of complicated. And Will sensed, he could feel that Mike is attracted to him. And that's why he could open up like that. Because you can always tell. You know, you just know, so that's why Will was able to confess these things to him [she sees painting scene as a confession, whether Mike realized it or not, and so do I]."

Well damn Mama. And there you have it folks. My.. I'm not gonna call her the h word but.. my- notabigfanofgaythingsandwouldbehappytopretendtheydon'texist mother, perceives Mike as a homosexual kid, and just that. Well bloomin heck that's all the confirmation I need.

I didn't expect this as a turnout, I mean so particularly. My Mama actually didn't like byler - I think. Well. Bloomin heck. She actually enjoyed Vickie x Robin, and this shocked me to my core. I don't know whether this is simply due to her being a fan of Vickie's actress (recognizing her from Anne With an 'E'), but I do know that my mother has a bias in gay relationships and sees ones involving females as more "pure" than that of two males. So her language when describing Will has changed since her realization that he loves Mike for sure (which became undeniable in the van scene). She describes him as being 'obsessed' with Mike, and says writers really wanted to get that obsession across. I agree with Will having been one note during season 4, him hopefully having more time to shine in the approaching season, but I thoroughly disagree with him coming off as obsessive. I suppose our camera man displayed the guy's little glances at Mike so often that my Mama felt it was overdone, and unable to be ignored. I also think she's just avoiding use of the word 'love' when describing anything homosexual.

She still doesn't think Mike demonstrates how much he loves El enough to leave no room for debate. According to her, his moments with her seem surface level. Just as a reminder she does not know my thoughts. She watched that entire 'I love you' thing and still isn't secure in any genuineness of the guy. I believe she supposes that we're intended to acknowledge milkvan's romance, but also probe it.

I now wonder whether my Mama was good enough representation for the average audience, because she actually does own a bias - this being that she usually actively dislikes gay things. So I puzzle over whether her brain overanalyzed any of the boys' highlights, wanting to "expose" their homo intentions. At first things were up in the air, but it became clear that Mike did not pass her gaydar, he was simply too intimate with Will to make that pass. And this wasn't the case in other seasons, she never questioned their friendship til now. She also hasn't acknowledged any supposedly queer relationships besides rickie (vobin?) and byler, meaning that other fan favourites such as elmax, steddie, ronance and such else didn't stand out as gay to her. This doesn't signify those other relationships to not have a chance, I'm elmax's personal cheersquad, it's plainly clear that my mother didn't have a tendency to point at every same sex relationship and yell suspicious. Byler was purely undeniable. You can thank Will's love being canoned for this, otherwise noone would have a need to read into Mike.

I don't know whether she supposes byler to have a chance moreso than the milk in the van, even with Mike's ambiguity. It would seem that as of right now her guess is that watchers are intended to second guess both relationships in order to build up interest. However, she doesn't know how unlikely Will's love life is to turn out negatively seeing as those damn writers manipulated crowds into consistently sympathizing for him. Dunno about the rest of you but that sounds like good news to me.

I have no idea how to close this analysis. Is it an analysis? There's much more I want to say, much more she said, but I fear this to be too jam-packed and aimless as is. I'm writing a third part to my most recent milkthevan failing relationship deep dive, and that'll possibly consist of thoughts I wish to input after gathering so much data from my mother.

[wispscribbles]

Mw3 spoilers (just a long personal ramble)

Hiii. So

As soon as the pre-release came out on, I hunted down spoilers, because I know myself and knew that if someone died and I got that information out of the blue, I wouldn’t take it well. Jokes on me, because I still haven’t been taking it well lol

I won’t talk about how Soap’s death was handled or the quality of the game. Plenty of smarter people are doing so.

I try not to talk a lot about myself and irl stuff on here, but will just say: I am very unwell, mentally. (Cue silence because that’s not surprising at all) Something I am very aware that I do, is that I latch onto fiction with my whole being, usually one specific character. For some reason, I always latch onto the character that ends up dead, usually in a way that make them only exist to further the motivations of other characters. It sucks.

So my hope for Soap has never been great, but for some reason I was still so shocked?? I don’t know, I tricked myself into thinking this time was different. Such an iconic character with so much good setup for great character development. I knew someone would die, but ow. To me, he was the element that made 141 seem more like family than coworkers. Soap’s interactions with the rest just livened up the games so much and made them all shine. Especially Ghost. Their dynamic, man.

Soap was the character that intrigued me enough to jump into the cod rabbit hole. It feels very hollow without him.

I keep telling myself that it’s silly to be so hurt over something fictional, and that I can just treat it as a mcd fanfic and move on, but nope. Brain’s stuck in the bad stuff. It’s a bad habit of mine to let something like this affect me so much, but well. Logic vs feeling and all that.

I really did find so much comfort in Soap this last year, that I severely needed. It feels a little like losing someone I know, someone who helped me through a rough time. I related to something in him and felt inspired. I only started writing after getting into ghostsoap, I started working out and I got back into art after a very long burnout. It may be fiction, but the impact is not.

So that was pretty much the worst case scenario of what mw3 could be to me. I always knew the risk, but, once again, ow. But there also seems to be plenty of good stuff in the game that I enjoy. I’m happy with the Ghost and Soap dialogue, the whole team working together and seeing Laswell and Farah and Alex and Nik. I hope I can be inspired by some of the new content once I’m calmer.

And I was worried they would ignore Ghost and Soap’s relationship after their development in mw2, but they genuinely seem to have gotten real close. It’s nice. I thought the shipping might scare the game devs into never having them appear in a scene together again, so that’s a plus.

Bottom line to all this is: I probably need a little break to get my head sorted. The grief is surprisingly real, it’s triggered some old stuff for me (haven’t been sleeping or eating, been stuck in some old thoughts). I’ll need to calm down and become a bit more normal about this again. Part of the grief isn’t so much about Soap himself, but also just the safe space that this account has been. The very nature of how the fandom is going to interact with Soap and Ghostsoap is going to change now, and man… I liked how it was, y’know? Could’ve used a little longer in that bubble. There’s going to be plenty of new fics and art, lovely stuff as always, but many of them will be tinged with grief, and I’m not in a place where that won’t break me a little.

I will hopefully come back to posting and making stuff once my brain settles down. I have so many drafts for fics and ideas that I hope I can return to. I’ve gotten so used to drawing these lads that I doubt I can stop tbh

The version of Soap that we love is already evolved from the games due to all the time and care the community has put into the character. The games may have killed him, but luckily, he’s fictional. We can do what we want, same as before.

I’m not even saying that I wish they hadn’t killed him. The games are crafting a story that fits their audience. It makes sense.

But I will choose to live in one of the many universes we’ve created for Soap, where he is alive and cared for, with a found family and a spooky lieutenant with a soft spot for him. Good for him.

Hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. RIP canon Soap (again). Thanks to Neil for a wonderful portrayal. And no matter where we go from here, thanks for a wonderful year of creating with you lovely folks. Seriously, some of the kindest people I’ve met in fandom. <3

Lastly: fuck you Kevin O’Reilly, but more importantly, sincerely thank you. (CallMeKevin video about mw2 got me into this mess. Otherwise I was keeping cod at an arm’s length, but he’s my fav youtuber, so I watched it. And here we are!)

[hadesoftheladies]

Greed is Male Culture

This isn't a misandry post (sorry to disappoint). Neither is it an essay (yet). It's a deep reflection on what I think is the beginning of humanity's most evil systems, like the actual beginning. These are just my thoughts based on what I know, and I'm sure other people have said what I am about to. This is not a research paper (yet), but it is based on my readings regarding marxism, feminism, and industrial/colonial history (and some marginal knowledge of animal species). This is an opinion/think-piece, the beginning of some of my broader ideas.

I consider greed to be largely irrational and even (mostly) unnatural. Greed is not like hunger or fear. Greed, right now, is about excess. And I think excess is unnatural, and the desire for it even more so. Sort of like how plastic is from nature, but cannot decompose like organic matter. I think greed is a synthetic desire. Mimicking organic feelings like hunger or fear. In a world of safety, community and fulfilment, the desire for power over another is foreign. Unnatural. There are no threats. There is nothing to inspire the thought or desire of greed (especially coming from a materialist perspective). So how did the quest for power for the sake of power (and not safety, survival, or protection) come to be in human beings?

I posit that it could only (and did) arise from male-to-male peer relations.

In most animal (at least mammalian and some other) species, males do not need to be as populous as females. If you want a robust chance at a second generation of animals, you need only one male for twenty or so females. A handful of males of which females would select the best and breed with. The handful of males would have more than enough chances at partnering, and the females would have no shortage of seed if they so wanted to be pregnant.

But that's not the case. Males and females are 1:1, and sometimes, males are slightly more than females in most sexually dimorphic animal species.

So now we have some complications. Something that had been good in a previous context (males for seed) now became problematic. Now, imagine there are slightly more males than females in society. Up until this point, the value for the human male has been two things: seed and manual labor. This is the basis of his relevance to society and identity. These are the only two avenues for him to find any value as a man (not an individual). But now, he senses that he is in jeopardy. He is exceedingly replaceable! There are many men, so not only are the chances for his seed being chosen reduced, but the amount of seed he could spread is also reduced! He doesn't want to share, and he cannot stomach being replaceable or losing access to females, who are the ones who dictate whether he has a legacy or not. Whether he has offspring or not.

So now the many males have to compete. They have to be more flamboyant, robust, more beautiful than the other males so they can get picked by a female (note, they are not concerned with picking a female because any female will do). But the competition gets steeper and keeps escalating for different reasons (environmental or evolutionary) as time goes on. So now, violence, aggression, and killing have become parts of the competition. Like any sport, the rules and stakes evolve as time goes.

The choice of females is now diminished in this first stage. This is the beginning of the loss of their freedom. It is not that they are simply mating with the "prettiest" male, per se, but that they are also left with the male that survives the battle between males.

And thus the concept of "territory" arrives. Man has come to see other men as his greatest threat. Other men can annihilate him by annihilating his chances at offspring. This is not something women experience because every offspring is theirs, regardless of what seed it came from. Women can never be "erased" on a biological level, because their DNA is the blueprint of all humanity. It started with women and it will end when women end. But this is a big existential fear to men. They can be replaced. They were not the beginning. He (singular) can be erased. There are other men ready and willing to replace him.

So now man needs assurances. He needs to assert himself to other men so that the threat is mitigated. He knows other men are out to get him, because all men are now at war with each other. They evolved strength, not to protect women and children (because females in nearly every species have been the main if not sole providers and protectors), but to protect himself from other men. Really, it couldn't be to protect women and children, because female animals are able to wield similar weapons (claws, spears, stones, beaks) against threats to themselves or their young. No, men need strength to defend themselves from other men, who are out to propagate themselves. Men have become the special targets of other men.

And so, in this struggle, the competition evolves again. The stakes heighten. Man needs to assert himself to other men or he's dead meat, and he finds new ways to do so. At this point, he also realizes that women pose no threat to him in this sense. They do not seek to dominate him. He is not that relevant to her. He is replaceable. So women seize to be as important (in terms of threat) and become relegated to assets. Women do not need to assert themselves, so because they do not, man sees them as different to him. Not the same kind of animal. Not human. Women do not need to establish themselves using violence, and he equates that to women not having agency or ambition. Women now become assets. But he needs them as assurance. Remember, they are the only way he has legacy. So he must find a way to control them. To make them permanently his somehow. He asserts himself using violence, even reproductive violence and it works. Women are now part of the territory. Conquests and wars ensue. Men now view acquiring women and land as the same thing. Now in order to ensure their legacy, men know that it will not just take killing other men, but policing women. Even killing (but mainly stealing and raping) the women of other men since women are now resources and not people. Women cannot assert themselves physically the way men can. They cannot impregnate themselves. This is convenient for him to exploit.

Factions start to form. Kings, chiefs, and dictators rise up as territory and assets expand. Women die in in the crossfire, and policing them becomes more brutal. Their mistreatment from their own offspring and species has now become their biggest threat. Men are now the plunderers and predators of women. Women's resistance is a threat to his precious resources and assurances against other men and his annihilation. The increase of brutality towards women means that more women die, and there are more men than women, making competition even steeper. Now, man moves in packs. He hunts in packs. He covers more ground and acquires more territory, and so long as he is top of the hierarchy, the men beneath him pose no threat. If anything, he makes sure they benefit, for they help him better maintain that hierarchy. More men are required to fight other men and plunder their resources. Armies form. Nations form. Territory.

Now we come to the modern world. After a history of colonialism, capitalism, slavery, genocides, grotesque war. The underpinnings of all these systems are the same. Competition between males. For what? Hierarchy. Why? To assert himself to other males. To what end? His humanity.

Man, the animal, has now come to equate his personhood with supremacy. To men, dominance is a virtue, because to assert yourself, to impose your will, is to be human. Man needs something to be dominant over or he seizes to be relevant. Man needs something to subjugate, or he becomes meat to be devoured by other men. There are more men now than there ever was. The world suffers because ALL these men "need" to assert themselves, to become human to other men.

This is probably part of the reason why women aren't seen as human. Not simply because they are regarded as assets instead of persons, but because to be subjugated is to be inhuman. To be subjugated is how you become an asset. Or at least, dehumanizing you as an asset makes it easier to christen your subjugation as morally right and economically necessary. This idea is especially prevalent in politics since the 18th century. Man sees living things in two castes: dominant and submissive. Because that is how he sees himself in comparison to other men. Cattle, sheep, nature, men who take it from the back, women . . . submissive and thus inhuman. If a man can subject you, you are no longer human to him because you cannot or do not assert yourself in the way he does. You are now an asset that he can use to assert himself to other men. You are not a relevant threat. This is also possibly why pacifism is largely regarded as feminine or "pussification." Even unnatural. Men equate violence to agency since violence is when they start to become their own people.

This becomes even more plain when you look at the underpinings of man's existential thoughts throughout religion, art, and philosophy. What makes a man a man? What makes a man useful? What makes life meaningful to a man? What traits do they worship about god? Omnipotence. Omniscience. Being the owner of all things. The capacity to impose yourself and image on the world and to be able to do so forever via offspring. Ownership and property only became relevant to man when another man competed with him. Excess is useful now because it is a grand way of asserting yourself. Fame and excess are equated to legacy. Now, they are all that is worth striving for. As a boast to other men. A synthetic desire (greed) from an organic feeling (fear of threat).

Man's purpose is now to win the competition, no matter how silly the sport gets. To assert himself and be a threat. And if he is not a threat, he is irrelevant and unspectacular (to humanity). And if he is not relevant, as his ancestors once feared, . . . then what is he? He cannot become a woman who is eternally necessary and relevant to human society and history.

So what else can he be? There are only two options in the male world.

Both these options cannot do anything but ultimately destroy what humanity is left in him.

Greed only makes sense if the satisfaction (mimicking hunger) is found in other people's perception of you. Men need men to perceive them as successful, because that has been how they protected themselves from other men. And now that competition exists in all forms of society, whether economic or social, we all participate on some level with it. It's not that greed is natural to the human heart, but that it has become increasingly relevant to our societies, from how we consume to how we relate. Now, every fraction of society has to have its own model of dominant/submissive, superior/inferior, etc. Because men hate themselves, hate each other, and hate everyone else.

Anyways . . . nighty, night!

PS: This is kind of like conflict theory meets feminist analysis, and it's more of a collection of my ideas than anything else. I find it interesting to look at modern human politics and arts, at least between the 20th century and now, in this lens. If you don't like what I have to say, at least let your criticisms be constructive. I do not mind reasonable disagreement.

[pixiemage]

Do You Believe In Magic?

[Part of the Magebound Universe]

23,458 words Fandom: 3rd Life | Last Life SMP Series, Hermitcraft SMP Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/TangoTek Additional Tags: Past Jimmy | Solidarity/Scott Major | Smajor1995, Mage AU, Witch and Familiar AU, Witch TangoTek, Familiar Jimmy Solidarity, Canary Jimmy | Solidarity, Blaze Hybrid TangoTek (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Injury, First Meetings, Soulmates, Witch/Familiar Bonds, Magebonds, Baby Ravagers :3, Hermitshipping Big Bang 2023

[A/N: Hey all! This has been in the works for quite a while by now. For anyone who read the mini Ethubs fic I posted most recently, this story takes place in the same universe (though later in the timeline). I've been itching to share the Ranchers' origin story with you for ages!

Much love to the HSBB server for their inspiration and friendship and support, and even MORE love to the handful of spectacular artists who created artwork for this story! Links to their creations can be found here, as well as in the endnotes.]

@fantasykiri5 [Trapped] [Jimmy] [Tango] @joifee [Feathers] @aviomons [Magic] @setacin [Campire]

{This work can also be found on Archive Of Our Own}

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The late afternoon sun filtered down through the trees, the ever-shifting leaves and branches high overhead casting scattered, evolving shadows across the forest floor below. Every so often a stray sunbeam would cross Jimmy’s face…but for how deep in the forest he was, it didn’t happen often. Below the canopy the forest was cool, what little heat from the day that still lingered in the shadows already beginning to lessen with each minute that ticked by.

Jimmy was grateful for the shade, and the breeze, and the barely-there smell of petrichor that still hung around from the rain that had come through earlier that afternoon. It left his walk in the woods with a peaceful sort of feeling hanging over it. He was beginning to think he might have picked the perfect day to attune with his avian side. It had been a while since he’d had the chance, really…not that it was entirely his fault.

(He couldn’t help but think his own actions took more than a little of the blame.)

Jimmy let out a breath, hiking his satchel higher onto his shoulder and doing his best to focus on where he was going.

The Southlands Coven had been a nice escape, after everything. It had been a chaotic whirlwind of magical malpractice and experimentation, a place to just let loose and not worry too much about where he had been before. It helped him to forget about Sc– his former bond, and about whatever he had left behind at that cottage. The Southlanders helped him remember himself, and forget himself, and remember to have fun again.

Not - not that he hadn’t had fun with - with him, and them, but there had been a tension Jimmy hadn’t been willing to endure, and a past that wasn’t his own that needed facing. Jimmy was helping no one by sticking around.

Jimmy’s jaw tensed and he huffed out a breath, pushing the thought aside. He was meant to be focussing on nature, on the natural magic in the earth, and on his familiar form. He was meant to be finding the right place to attune, like Grian and Martyn had both suggested. Not…not agonizing over broken magebonds. It was in the past.

In truth, Jimmy conceded as he clambered over a massive protruding root, he had been with the Southlanders for over a year by the time they disbanded, but even then it wasn’t that long of a span of time in the grand scheme of things. The lingering ache of a severed bond had only fully faded around the seven-month mark, so perhaps he could be forgiven for still missing the feeling of someone else’s magic humming alongside his own.

Sc– his magic had been smooth and graceful and almost cool to the touch, often carefully controlled in a way that Jimmy’s almost never was. Jimmy’s magic was an energetic thing, always moving and buzzing and sparkling at him for attention at the slightest thing. He’d had to reign it in more times than he cared to count, so finding a witch like - like him, a witch who maintained such careful discipline over the way his own magic behaved and who naturally extended that control down the bond to include Jimmy as well? It was - well, it was something. It was stifling, but comforting all the same. It was nice to not feel so scattered all the time…but it wasn’t quite freeing enough for someone like Jimmy whose familiar form was a bird.

Perhaps that was why Jimmy had known from the start that their magic wasn’t meant to be bound forever, and he would have known even without the contract for a temporary bond that he had signed when he’d been hired. The relationship they’d forged in the time they’d been bound, though? Now that was something Jimmy had hoped would last a little longer. But once Jimmy had helped him with his task, once his former magebound was back from wherever she’d been lost to, and his focus shifted to helping to nurse his true familiar back to health - well.

It became all too awkward for Jimmy to hang around when his priorities were no longer on romantic relationships.

And Jimmy understood, he did. He understood the importance of magebonds as well as anyone. He wasn’t surprised that he immediately prioritized her when she needed him most, and he wasn’t surprised that he, Jimmy, got forgotten in the process. Perhaps worse still, it didn’t seem to surprise him when Jimmy said he’d be leaving.

Perhaps it was only ever meant to be short and sweet. Perhaps one day he’d be able to remember it fondly. But at the moment, he just wanted to forget.

Jimmy paused in a small clearing, closing his eyes and using his magic to reach out with delicate tendrils, sensing the natural magic of the forest and trying to follow where it wanted to lead him. He was close. He was very, very close. He took careful steps with his eyes closed, the damp spring grass shushing softly against his shoes. A little…a little left…ah.

A warm vibration of pure, gentle energy danced at his peripherals, making his magic buzz, making his core resonate with a low, silent tune. Slowly, he let his satchel drop to the grass, and he sank down beside it. He pulled off his shoes and shrugged off his overshirt, leaving them piled on his bag and leaving him unencumbered. He listened and he felt and he breathed.

A full familiar transformation was meant to feel as natural as breathing. Once you managed it the first time it was meant to become second nature, as easy to repeat as your own name.

Lately, for Jimmy, that hadn’t been the case. He could summon up a handful of reasons why if asked. There was one he blamed more than the others. But no matter the reason behind it, it was because of this disconnect from his avian side that Grian had all but demanded for Jimmy to take the time to find a peaceful connection point and attune.

He had been absolutely appalled that Jimmy hadn’t attempted to do so sooner, and Martyn had been equally irate about it. So…off Jimmy went.

That had been a week ago.

Now, Jimmy took a slow breath and let his magic sink. He let it melt out of his core and to the very tips of his fingers, to the ends of his hair…let it sit just below the skin. He let it fill him completely, let it greet the natural magic in the air around him, and he let his avian side come to life bit by tiny bit. Tiny golden down feathers prickled at his hairline and down his neck, scattered across his cheeks, soft patterns racing down his spine. A few fanned out around his ears and he listened, the quiet breeze and distant chirping and nearby rustling of crickets and critters meeting him more clearly than before. He rolled his shoulders and bone and muscle shifted seamlessly, painlessly, beneath his shirt, the fabric seemingly unbothered as massive sunglow-dusted wings appeared at his back. He shook them out with the smallest of grimaces, momentarily distracted by some dust and misplaced feathers that were making him itch.

He’d have to have a preening session once this was over.

For now, though, Jimmy just focussed as best he could on the balance between his avian and human halves, letting them merge together to as perfect a point of equilibrium as he could manage. For a few long, quiet minutes, Jimmy just let everything hover at that balance. He let himself exist in silence as both for as long as he was patient enough to endure, and as long as the forest was willing to indulge him. This part was easier. Jimmy wasn’t the best at sitting still or meditating, never had been, but the weight of wings at his back and the tickle of down against his skin was a familiar comfort that felt more natural than his fully human form ever had. It was easy to melt into, like pouring just the right amount of water into a glass. It was a perfect fit.

Time seemed to still, to warp, seconds and minutes ticking by as the mix of magics whispered at the edge of Jimmy’s awareness, as he slowly focussed inward toward the point where his avian side resided.

…it was taking it a step further that was giving Jimmy trouble, was the thing.

He took a slow breath, letting his wings go lax and drape out across the grass behind him. His magic was still swirling just below the surface and he reached for it, drew upon it, let it soak into his skin and settle in his bones.

There was a pull, normally, when Jimmy wanted to shift fully. There was a tug in his gut and a sudden, small inward force and a feeling almost like a startled inward breath - and then he was suddenly a fraction of his size. Normally. Normally, it happened in an instant, so simple to grasp and even easier to maintain.

Right now, Jimmy was having trouble getting to that point. He could feel that tugging sensation lingering just out of reach, a tension just below his ribs, a surge of energy balancing on a precipice and barely threatening to tumble over the edge. He was close, closer to that tipping point than he’d been in over a year. And yet–

An itch cropped up at the base of his right wing, something between his feathers irritating him, making him grimace. He rolled his shoulders, trying to dissipate it without digging through the down to find what was bothering him. It didn’t do much.

Jimmy sighed and scrunched up his nose in discomfort. Yeah, he was definitely preening later, probably before bed if he had the energy. He couldn’t fathom how his wings had become so unkempt. So…neglected.

…no, that was a lie. He knew. He knew full well that he had become lax in taking care of himself after he had left the cottage. He knew that Grian and Martyn - even Impulse and Mumbo - had needed to remind him to eat sometimes during the first few weeks with them, and even after that–

No. No, he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about that. He was meant to be focusing on…on…

…crap.

The swirling haze of flowing magic had begun dissipating drastically once Jimmy’s thoughts had strayed, and at this point he knew it would be exhausting to return to the level of concentration he was at before. With a heavy sigh, Jimmy let his eyes flutter open and he flopped backward against the grass. He ground the heels of his palms against his eyes hard enough for stars to pop up in the darkness behind his eyelids and he huffed in mild annoyance.

He’d always struggled with meditation, and any magical practices that required it. His mind was just too…busy, too distractible, and something always inevitably drew his attention away from what he was meant to be focussing on. At least in this instance his distraction was well-warranted. Unpreened and itchy wings were a nightmare and impossible to ignore no matter how well-trained one’s patience was.

Maybe he ought to try again tomorrow once he’d dealt with whatever grit was causing him so much irritation.

It wouldn’t be too hard for Jimmy to find the clearing again. Even if he hadn’t had a fairly good sense of direction thanks to his avian nature, the lingering residual tendrils of magical energy his attunement had left behind were recognizable. It was his magic, after all. He’d know it anywhere. The forest would lead him here again.

The sun was beginning to dip low behind the treeline now, casting an orange tinge across the sky, and when Jimmy sat up to grab for his satchel he could see the way the shadows had already begun to stretch under the canopy of the trees. The glimmer of magic still fading from his skin illuminated the nearby grass, a low but noticeable light that further cemented the fact that it was getting late.

It wasn’t as if Jimmy had anywhere to be, but any forest this dense could become a danger when one was alone in the middle of the night, magical abilities or not. He cast a stray glance around as he shoved his feet back into his sneakers. He hadn’t exactly expected to see anyone, so finding his surroundings quiet and empty wasn’t much of a surprise…but something about it left him feeling wary. The few stray downy feathers at the nape of his neck tickled from a passing breeze, making him shiver, and a quiet anxiety began to pool in his gut.

Maybe he ought to fly back to the inn. He should have enough time to walk back from here - the nearby town wasn’t too far away, and he would probably arrive just before nightfall if he left immediately - but he wasn’t sure he felt as confident in that method of travel now as he had been when he’d left the inn that morning. Jimmy finished tugging on his overshirt - letting his wings phase through with practiced ease - and stood slowly, his satchel strap clutched tightly in one hand.

…yeah. Yeah, maybe he’d fly, just in case.

He tossed the bag’s strap across his body, rolling his shoulders and flexing his wings. He shook them out once, twice, still irked by the itchiness beneath his feathers…but he’d just have to deal with it later. His paranoia was increasing with every second, and he’d rather get out of here before–

Jimmy turned to prepare for a takeoff and went stiff as a statue, coming face to horrifying face with a massive beast. It was staring at him from across the clearing, its beady eyes fixed on him with an intelligent sort of focus that made Jimmy’s skin crawl. The creature was a giant, hulking thing, reminding him of a rather hairy bull but with a wider snout and a stockier build. It was a dark, brownish-gray and a pair of ivory-colored horns curved out from its skull…and those things looked like a quick way to a very painful death. It took Jimmy an embarrassingly long time to remember what it was called - a ravager - and an even longer time to remember that he needed to breathe. He swallowed thickly and took a slow, shaking, measured breath. Right. Right, okay. Right. He took a slow step backward, then another. The ravager was tracking his every move, audible snorting huffs leaving it as it stared him down.

Jimmy could hear his own heart pounding in his ears, could hear the ravager’s breath, could hear his own shaking attempts at regulating his breathing. The eerie silence from before suddenly made much more sense now. If a beast of this size was in the vicinity, why would any creature be making noise that would draw its attention?

It still hadn’t moved yet, Jimmy noticed. He had been creeping ever closer to the trees behind him in an attempt to escape its piercing stare, and all the while it hadn’t moved. Jimmy wanted to count it as a blessing, a small bout of luck that he wasn’t about to take for granted. Maybe if he was quiet enough, maybe if he moved slowly enough, maybe if he just stayed calm, then the ravager would have no reason to run him down. So he stayed steady and he kept his wings pulled close and his breath carefully schooled.

…and then he tripped.

Jimmy went down in a whirlwind of feathers and limbs with a loud yelp and a chirp and an oof…and apparently, it was the sign the ravager had been waiting for, because within moments of him hitting the grass, it tossed its head and stomped at the ground and let out a deep, bellowing roar.

Jimmy scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, darting off between the trees and shoving off of trunks as he dodged them. He could feel the ravager’s footfalls pounding against the earth behind him, sending vibrations through the forest floor. All the while he let his eyes dart skyward as often as he dared, trying to spot a breach in the canopy where he might be able to take to the sky. For not the first time, he was cursing his inability to perform a full shift to his avian form. If he wasn’t such an incapable mage he could have gotten high above the trees before the beast behind him even reached him - if he was quick enough. But even then, he supposed his bag would have posed a problem anyway, because he wouldn’t dare to leave behind the books and potions and crystals that he had packed into his satchel for the trip.

And besides, even if he managed to use a spell to put his bag out of harm’s way, that “if” would have been enough to keep him grounded regardless of his ability to shift forms. If he was fast enough. If he had time to transform and get out of the way before the ravager trampled him into the ground.

If he could have shifted fully in the first place.

Jimmy gritted his teeth. Arguing over what-if’s in his head was a moot point when he wasn’t even capable of the most important part of the equation. He’d just have to find an opening and fly as he was when he had the chance.

Branches whipped past, some catching on his clothes, some leaving scratches against his skin, skirted shrubs and thorny flowers lashing at his ankles and a few vines threatening to trip him up.

Vines.

On an inspired whim and with a prayer to the heavens, Jimmy skirted a tree and slammed his palm against its trunk, focussing on his fading connection to the forest to fuel his spell. As his fingers separated from the bark a flurry of vines sprang forth, curling up from the ground around the roots of the tree and tangling through the undergrowth. He didn’t look back to see if it had helped, but he did hear the ravager let out a growling cry of some kind, and the thundering at his back faded with each new stride he took.

Jimmy’s eyes darted to the sky again, searching for an opening, any opening. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon–

When it seemed as though the monster behind him really had been lost in the foliage, Jimmy let himself slow. He cast a furtive glance behind him before collapsing sideways against the trunk of a massive gnarled oak. His chest heaved and he gulped down precious, precious oxygen, his lungs aching and his limbs threatening to give out. At his back, he let his wings hang limp to brush against the forest floor…but thank goodness running didn’t tend to wear them out too quickly, or he might not have felt up to flying home after the harrowing chase he’d just barely managed to escape from.

“Oh gosh…” Jimmy choked out, his legs shaking. He dragged both hands back through his now-sweaty hair and let out a distressed trill, a chirp catching in his throat as he slid down the trunk to sit on a massive twisted root protruding from the soil. His fingers tangled tightly in the blond strands. “Ohhh my gosh…oh my gods…”

A ravager. A ravager. What was a ravager even doing in this forest? Jimmy might not be quite as much of an expert on magical beasts as Impulse was, but he was fairly certain they were more likely to appear in colder climates. They were built for the snow. The forest Jimmy had chosen for his attunement was rarely even chilly this time of year, let alone prone to snow or ice. Where in the world had–

A low rumbling growl and a sudden thundering sound broke through Jimmy’s mind a little too late, and by the time his head was snapping up - by the time he was scrambling to his feet - the ravager he thought he’d managed to evade was already upon him. It rammed him backward, thoroughly winding him, pinning him to the massive trunk of the gnarled oak he’d been using as a resting place, its head bowed to be on his level and its horns caging him in on either side. The sound of shattering glass rent the air, the distinct sound of one of the potion bottles in his satchel breaking. Jimmy didn’t even have words anymore, the panicked sounds leaving him reduced to twittering avian screeches and wheezing, shrill, desperate chirps. He shoved at the beast’s snout frantically, feebly, trying and failing to push it away. Its huffed, snarling breath was hot and overwhelming. It made it harder to breathe, harder than it already was with the way he was being crushed against the tree trunk and the way he was panicking too much to catch his breath.

The ravager was relentless too, because though its horns against the tree kept it at just enough of a distance to leave Jimmy some minute level of safety, it refused to let that keep it from its prey. (Because Jimmy was prey right now, wasn’t he? He certainly felt like it.) It jerked its head sharply, carving into the bark, closing that gap bit by bit with each jolting movement.

A spell, a spell - he couldn’t think of a spell. Jimmy’s thoughts were whirling desperately, but nothing was sticking, nothing - nothing he could–

“G-Glacius!” he stammered, choking out the first thing that came to mind, and he shivered as a swath of freezing blue ice magic was dispelled from his fingertips. But it wasn’t strong. It was a wisp of a thing, magic that didn’t come naturally to Jimmy. It did very little to dissuade the ravager. The creature did flinch back though, for a moment, and for a fraction of a fraction of a second Jimmy was tempted to make a break for it. There was a gap to his left, a possible escape - but was there even time?

Before he had a chance to decide, the ravager had let out a furious roar and charged forward again, and Jimmy flinched, and his wings jerked, and–

Jimmy let out a shrill, pained avian screech when one of the beast’s horns slammed against his left wing and pinned it to the tree, something snapping and an unbearable pain blinding him. He keened and his wing jerked frantically where it was trapped, the sharp, hot agony that radiated from the injury making the world spin on its axis. Shit. Shit. Fu–

A sharp whistle pierced the air, though Jimmy wasn’t quite aware enough to even bother trying to figure out where it had come from. It repeated, a warbling lilt to it this time, and - much to Jimmy’s utter disbelief - the ravager actually retreated. It stomped backward, still huffing and rearing its head occasionally, but it gave Jimmy just enough space to slump against the tree. He gulped down desperate breaths, his chest heaving, and a moment later his legs - shaking and exhausted - gave out below him. He crumpled, one hand scrabbling at the bark behind him for support. The wing that the ravager had injured absolutely screamed as it shifted to the ground and Jimmy let out a sharp, choked chirp, wheezing twitters coinciding with each breath he took.

Gods that hurt. It was - it felt - he curled in on himself, his uninjured wing coming up to shield him from the world, the rest of him too fuzzy to focus on much else besides the pain to his left and the slowly growing awareness of a voice somewhere to his right.

“...whoa, whoa - hey there, big guy. C’mon - gahk! NO! No, hold. Hold it, skippy. Stay still…that’s it–” There was a shifting of soft material and the jingle of metal, maybe keys or chains. A soft snort arose from the ravager, one that made Jimmy flinch. “–easy. Easy. Just…wait…a second - hah!” Another jingle, then the voice let out a victorious laugh. “HAH! Gotcha! Now - ngh - now c’mere, get away from that thing…”

More chinking - definitely chains - then a disgruntled huff from the ravager, some grumbling from the voice. The heavy footfalls of the beast retreated from where Jimmy was still hiding away in the safety of his feathers and he shivered. He clutched at the strap of the bag still slung across his chest, his focus honing in on the nearby sounds, not quite ready to look at his ruined wing. There was the drag of metal on wood, more chinking and jingling, then the voice he’d been hearing sighed.

“What’d you catch now?” he muttered, his much more human-sounding footsteps a balm on Jimmy’s nerves. “What poor critter am I gonna have to patch up, huh? …geez, it’s a big fella this time…”

The voice had come close, so close, and Jimmy flinched back when he felt a gloved hand brush at his feathers.

“Shhh, sorry,” the stranger murmured quietly. “Sorry bud. I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay? I just wanna help…”

It was at this point that Jimmy slowly lowered his wing, peering out over shivering golden feathers to try and get a look at whoever had saved him. The guy was a bit shorter than Jimmy, or at least he seemed to be at this angle, with a little less height and a bit more bulk to him than what Jimmy had. His skin was lightly tanned and his black leather hide gloves and vest and boots made Jimmy think he must spend a lot of time outdoors. The man was also clearly inhuman - even without his pointed ears or the sight of his tuft-ended tail, his red irises and sclera would have been more than enough proof of that. There was a glowing tinge to his blond hair as well that seemed to illuminate the air around him with a low, subtle, warm incandescence, the dim light of the setting sun making it more noticeable than it would have been in broad daylight.

He also looked slightly stunned, his eyes widening as Jimmy appeared from behind his wing and a gobsmacked expression overtaking his face.

“Wha- oh! Hi! Wow, okay, human. Ish. Human-ish. A person. You’re a person. Yup. Uh–” His eyes darted over Jimmy’s form, what little of it was visible at the moment, and he cleared his throat. “How - How badly did he hurt you?”

Jimmy grimaced at the question. He tried, briefly, to ease himself into a more upright position to check the damage, but with how harshly it sent a shock of sharp pain through his left wing and his chest, it was an attempt that only ended with the air being punched from his lungs and him collapsing roughly against the tree trunk again. He let out an avian hiss and a shrill chirp and a whimpered curse, and the stranger jolted forward to grab his shoulders and help hold him steady against the tree.

“Whoa, whoa!” the guy said quickly, anxiously. “Let’s - how about we put a pin in the standing-up action for a hot second. Okay? Just - crap. Uh–”

Jimmy eased his eyes open again - when had he closed them? - to squint, wincing, at the face hovering above his. There was a worried crease in the man’s brow and a twitch in one of his pointed ears, and every so often small licking flames came to life in his hair or around the tiny ember-colored sticks hovering around his head that Jimmy somehow hadn’t noticed before now.

He felt like there was a word for those, wasn’t there? A name he couldn’t quite remember right now…

“...are you with me, man?” the guy was prompting him now, worry coming to life in his expression. “What’s your name?”

Jimmy took a slow breath to ensure his chest would be willing to cooperate before attempting to answer.

“Jimmy,” he said finally, the word coming out a bit unsteadily. “Name’s Jimmy.”

The guy’s worried frown curled into a half-smile.

“Well hey there Jimmy,” he murmured. “I’m Tango. D’you know where you are?”

Jimmy managed a jerky sort of nod and he clutched at the bag strap across his chest with the hand that wasn’t digging fingers into the soil and moss beneath him.

“F…Forest–” He sucked in a sharp breath when the slightest of movements made some part of his injured wing shift, jostling something that obviously didn’t want to be jostled. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Con - ngh - Concordia Forest.”

“Good. Good.” Tango nodded. “Great. Uh–” He squeezed Jimmy’s shoulders slightly, and an inhuman warmth sank through Jimmy’s shirt layers to the skin below. It was a balm, a comfort, a small spot of cozy stability that helped him settle some of the tension in his aching shoulders. He let out a soft breath and did his best to stay still, like Tango had suggested.

“How badly did the big guy hurt you?” Tango asked again, and Jimmy grimaced.

“I…think my wing might be broken?” he offered weakly, sheepishly, and Tango’s expression took on a guilt-ridden unease, his pointed ears pinning back against his head and the glowing sticks around his head dimming.

“Crap. Crap, I’m so sorry, I didn’t - that’s my fault, it really is. Man, if I’d just–”

“What?” Jimmy blinked up at him, confused. “How’s that your fault? You saved me, didn’t you?”

“Well yeah,” Tango drawled with a wince, “but I also - like–” His tail lashed at the air behind him and he jerked his head back over his shoulder. “That’s my ravager.”

What.

Jimmy gaped at him, waiting for Tango to grin and say he was joking…but the man remained as serious as before.

“You - why?” he said, perplexed. “Why do you have a ravager? Why would you want a ravager?”

Tango shrugged lopsidedly.

“I handle magical creatures and monsters for a living,” he said. “Ravagers - I mean they aren’t that bad–”

“Not that bad,” Jimmy repeated weakly. He let out a whimpering laugh and let his head thunk back against the tree. “It slammed me against a tree, but ravagers are not that bad.”

“Well, yeah. It’s just about learning how to communicate. They can be super cuddly once you know how to handle ‘em–”

“Cuddly, he says–”

“They can be!” Tango insisted. “They’re like - ya know - big dumb cows who don’t know their own strength!”

Jimmy let out a birdlike twitter of protest.

“Well your big dumb cow just broke my wing!”

Tango flinched, going immediately silent and remorseful, his ears pinning back again and his tail going still behind him. His shoulders hunched up to his ears and his eyes drifted over to the feathered limb that wasn’t quite sitting at the right angle.

“...he did,” he agreed softly. “You’re right.” Tango eyed Jimmy’s broken wing for a moment or two longer before speaking again. “I’ve uh - I’ve never worked with bird hybrids before, but I’ve helped magical creatures with feathers ‘n’ wings. I bet I could whip up a good old-fashioned splint for you for now, if you want?”

Jimmy blinked at him. Ah…so he thought Jimmy was just a hybrid. In truth, in his current form, that was close to true. The wings, the feathered features, the avian calls. Except for his current lack of talons, he supposed he could pass for an ordinary avian to someone who didn’t know many avian hybrids themselves.

Seeing as he couldn’t exactly shift again until his wing was healed, he was as good as a hybrid for the time being for as long as it took for his injuries to mend.

“A splint might not be necessary,” he murmured thoughtfully. The hand still clutching at his bag’s strap slipped down the leather, groping at the satchel that was lumped on the ground next to him. “I brought some potions, just in case I–” His hand met wet fabric and Jimmy’s heart sank. The bottle. The glass he’d heard shatter in the midst of the ravager’s attack. The potion bottle.

He scrambled to open his pack, flipping back the flap and digging past the surface items until he found - ah. Glass. Broken glass, more than he’d anticipated, the pieces chinking against each other as Jimmy shifted the bag. It hadn’t been just one bottle that had been broken in the fight, but multiple, all but one not managing to survive the encounter. And the one that did survive - well. Unless Tango turned out to be a not-so-friendly stranger, fire resistance wasn’t going to do Jimmy much good right now.

Jimmy grimaced and let out a frustrated huff, one hand dropping from his bag to punch at the moss bed below him. Of course. Of course his bad luck had reared its ugly head once again. He’d only just made those potions too, ingredients purchased not too long ago from a market he’d stumbled upon halfway to the village…the village and the inn he was no longer sure if he’d be able to return to tonight. What little money he’d scrounged up for the trip, all going to waste.

Tango let out a soft “oh” and Jimmy looked up to see him eyeing Jimmy’s bag with a dawning saddened understanding. He must have seen the damp stain in the half-darkness, or heard the pieces of glass.

“So, uh…splint?” Tango offered again, sheepish. “It won’t be anything fancy, but it’ll be functional. It’ll do the job.”

What could Jimmy say? It wasn’t like he had another option, and Tango did seem like the type to know his way around wings better than the average stranger. So he nodded, a weak but grateful smile coming to life on his face.

“If you think you know what you’re doing,” Jimmy said. He was only somewhat anxious at the prospect. “I don’t think I’ll get very far otherwise.”

Tango immediately brightened, his smile wide and eyes aglow in the ever-dimming light. He let go of Jimmy’s shoulders and sat back on his heels, quickly digging through the bag he’d brought with him with newfound enthusiasm. The sticks around his head - blaze rods, they reminded Jimmy of blaze rods - bobbed in the air.

“You’re in good hands!” Tango assured, setting aside a roll of bandages before darting off toward a nearby tree. “Like I said, I know wings. Not all wings, of course, but - hey, I’m a smart guy. I can - ya know - apply my existing knowledge to the problem, or whatever they call it.”

He stood on his toes to reach a thin, low-hanging branch, his tail curling out for balance as he drew a short blade from a sheath at his waist. He hacked at the branch and broke it free, stumbling back a step from the force of his former handhold being cut loose.

By now, the hour of the day was causing Tango’s form to be bathed in shadow, little more than his silhouette half-lit by the moonlight reaching Jimmy’s eyes. The subtle glow around the man’s head only helped fractionally. From this distance Jimmy could see him moving quickly but cautiously around the clearing, occasionally stumbling and shooting out his hand, as if he wasn’t quite trusting of his surroundings. He’d managed to grab a few branches by now and had come to a sort of standstill on the far side of the clearing, his head cocked to the side and one ear perked up and his glowing eyes squinting through the dark.

Jimmy frowned, curious and a little concerned. Was there something lurking nearby that Jimmy couldn’t hear, even with his avian senses?

“Tango?” he spoke up, and Tango snapped his head toward him, immediately starting in his direction. Jimmy shifted anxiously, trying to sit up a little taller to see the treeline better. “Was there something out there, or - ah!”

He hissed, pain shooting up his wing, across his shoulder blade, through the muscles on the left half of his upper body. He’d forgotten. He’d forgotten, foolishly, that he really shouldn’t be moving at all lest he worsen his injuries. Jimmy crumpled shakily back against the gnarled oak that still stood as his main form of support, his eyes squeezed shut and his breath coming out sharp and gasping. It was awful. Wings were sensitive as it was, and this - he grimaced and whimpered, a pitiful wheezing chirp escaping him - this was horrible. For all the various careless injuries Jimmy had managed to sustain over the years, this had to be the worst of them.

Jimmy was only vaguely aware of movement nearby, of footsteps and the shuffling of clothing and the shift of branches and warmth. There was a warmth in the air, and Jimmy swallowed back a whine and forced his eyes open again to blink blearily at who he could only assume was Tango returning with his collection of branches.

The space was brighter than before. There was a flicker of firelight coming from somewhere nearby, and the soft shifting light illuminated Tango’s face in a warm glow. He was watching Jimmy worriedly, one hand outstretched - though he hadn’t quite closed the gap to touch Jimmy’s shoulder the way he had earlier.

“You okay?” Tango asked, his brow furrowed, and Jimmy groaned.

“No.”

Tango stifled a snorting laugh, coughed, and did a very poor job of schooling his features.

“Eh - right. Yeah. Stupid question.” He shifted from a crouch to a kneel, reaching for the deposited pile of branches he’d scavenged. He picked them up one by one and ran his gloved hands down them, quickly snapping off any stray leaves and twigs before moving on to the next. “...I know you just met me, so you probably don’t trust me yet, but - uh.” He smiled weakly. “It might be a good idea for you to hunker down at my campsite for the night. If you want. I’ve got food, and blankets, and a fire…” He shrugged lopsidedly. “It ain’t anything fancy, but it’s safer ‘n out here, I bet. I don’t have much in the way of healing supplies, but I might have a potion to help with the pain.”

Tango finished off the last of the branches and brushed his gloves off on his pants, tugging at the fingers one by one to start taking them off completely. He tossed one aside on his bag and started in on the other, meeting Jimmy’s eyes and chuckling sheepishly.

“It’s my fault you’re not gonna be flying home anytime soon. Giving you a safe place to sleep tonight is the least I can do.”

Jimmy gaped at him, a warm gratitude arising unbidden in his chest. He let out a breath, slightly shaky from the still-lingering pain from his wing, and watched as Tango began rolling up his sleeves, his red eyes occasionally flicking back to check on Jimmy.

“...are you sure?” he asked weakly, surprised that a stranger would be so willing to offer such a thing to someone he’d just met. True, Tango seemed friendlier than most, but all the same - it was a pleasant surprise to be sure. He took a slow, strained breath “You don’t know me either. I could be a…a thief, or something, for all you know.”

Tango snorted, amused, and shook his head.

“You?” He laughed softly, a warm yet hoarse sort of sound. His eyes crinkled at the corners with his grin. “Nah. I know thieves. You don’t give me that vibe.”

“You know thieves?” Jimmy repeated. “Are you a thief?”

At that, Tango’s laughter became fuller, brighter, amusement making his shoulders shake as he fussed with the bandage roll he’d pulled from his bag earlier.

“Oh heck no,” he denied. “I think I’d get caught immediately if I tried. I can handle critters no problem, but my sneakification skills could use some work.” He shrugged and his grin grew crooked. “Or that might just be the company I keep. My friends know me too well.”

Tango chuckled to himself, then after a moment his expression softened, something more genuine coming over his features. The blaze rod look-alikes hovered in the air, casting light over his smile.

“That offer still stands,” he said, his tone softer, warmer. “My campsite’s not far. It’s safer than trying to walk home in the forest in the dark.”

Jimmy couldn’t deny that Tango had a point. And really, what reason had he been given to distrust Tango thus far? If the man tried anything, Jimmy had some spells under his belt that could protect him, weak magic or not. But even as that thought crossed his mind, Jimmy doubted he’d even need them. Tango was the kind of person who was ready and willing to help injured animals no matter the situation, and had been even more willing to help Jimmy once he realized he was more than just a creature in the woods. He had a kind heart to him.

Jimmy could trust him, at least for one night.

“Okay,” he murmured, nodding jerkily. “Yeah, that - yes. Thank you.”

Tango brightened and nodded.

“Happy to help.” Then he glanced toward Jimmy’s wing, his face becoming shadowed with worry and his eyes growing tense and thoughtful. He let out a slow, measured breath and shifted closer, mindful of where he was crouching and careful of the feathers draped over the ground. “I’m gonna have to touch your wing, okay? It’s not gonna be pleasant, but I’ve gotta figure out what’s broken.”

Almost immediately, Jimmy choked on his breath and he felt his face go very warm.

…oh. Oh, right. Right. Okay. His wing. Tango had to - okay. Okay.

“Okay,” Jimmy murmured weakly, even though most of him was insisting that it very much was not. Avian familiars and avian hybrids had their differences, but many cultural practices carried over between the two. Wings were sacred for one, protected, and the idea of allowing a perfect stranger to have his hands on Jimmy’s was - well. He swallowed thickly and took a slow breath, trying not to tense up too much.

It was necessary, he knew that. This wasn’t the same as a casual uninvited touch. His wing was broken, and Tango was just trying to help fix it. That was all. It was an emergency situation, an exception to the rule. Jimmy would just have to give this one a pass. Just this once. He could forgive himself for that, surely.

Tango nodded once, smiling apologetically, and Jimmy had to clench his jaw and look away when Tango reached out toward his broken wing.

Jimmy anticipated pain. He anticipated the same sharp agony that had overtaken him the last two times he had tried to move on his own…but that wasn’t quite what happened. Gentle fingers brushed against his uppermost feathers, following the joints and bones, prodding softly at points here and there and feeling along the edge of the limb for anything that felt out of place. But it was soft. It was delicate and careful, a practiced sort of gentleness that Jimmy could only assume came from years of handling other injured creatures, years of tending to animals that couldn’t communicate enough to tell him when he was about to hurt them.

For all of Tango’s gentleness though, he couldn’t avoid the pain forever. A dull ache started up the closer Tango got to the point of injury, and Jimmy hissed when Tango’s hands brushed over a particularly painful spot just this side of the wrist joint…but the moment he did Tango was muttering murmured apologies and pulling away.

Jimmy’s wheezing chirps were muffled against the fist he pressed to his mouth. It took everything he had not to jerk away, his shoulders pressed firmly against the tree behind him in an attempt to keep himself still. There was a knot on the trunk digging into his spine that was decidedly uncomfortable, but seeing as moving had been a much worse experience, Jimmy would take the discomfort over the pain any day of the week. It was a few more quiet, strained seconds before Jimmy felt hands on his wing again, and after a moment or two of much more painful prodding - and Jimmy stifling more pained sounds - Tango sat back with a sigh.

“Fractured radius, I think,” he said, and Jimmy heard him move slightly, the sound of shuffling sticks meeting his ears. “Maybe a partial fracture on the ulna? Hard to tell, and I don’t really wanna go poking too much when I’m not really an expert on birds.”

“A-Avians,” Jimmy corrected weakly, his eyes still closed and his head resting back against the oak tree. “Different.”

“Right. Yeah, ‘course. Avians. Got it.”

Jimmy pried one weary eye open to see Tango eyeing his wing calculatingly, a single branch held aloft and one sharp finger scraping a mark into the bark. He chewed on his lip thoughtfully before making a second line, a deeper one, an inch or so along from the first. That seemed to satisfy him because he nodded to himself and dug out his knife, sawing away at the mark he’d made. Shortening it maybe? Jimmy could only assume.

“...do you need my help with anything?” he asked in a murmur, and Tango glanced in his direction with a small smile. He shrugged.

“Not really, man,” he said. “You’ll have to sit up at some point, and you might wanna get your shirt off so I can wrap stuff properly. But I can handle the rest no problem.”

Jimmy blanched at the prospect of having to move again (ignoring, for the moment, that he’d have to do so eventually anyway when he followed Tango back to his camp), but he forced a jerky nod all the same.

He could do this. Definitely.

  Or perhaps, he conceded once Tango got started, it was less of a “definitely” and more of “maybe”. Tango hadn’t even done much yet and Jimmy was already biting down hard on the strap of his satchel like Tango had suggested, sweat beading at his brow and his other wing shaking against his back since it wasn’t being held still by Tango’s hands. Sitting up had been an ordeal on his own, helped somewhat by Tango making sure his injured wing remained stable, and now - everything was just aching. He had his arms around his knees with his fingers digging into the denim of his jeans, and everything just hurt. His back muscles were pissed, his chest felt tight, and the area around the actual break–

“Breathe in for me?” Tango muttered, and Jimmy only had a moment or two to comply before something shifted beneath Tango’s hands and pain exploded like fire beneath his feathers, a strangled sob and a pained avian screech escaping past the leather clenched between his teeth.

“I’m sorry,” Tango said quickly, already rushing to collect one of the prepared branches from his lap. “I’m sorry man, I’m sorry, it sucks. I know. But that’s the worst of it.”

That, despite Jimmy being skeptical to believe it, turned out to be true. While Jimmy buried choked-off twitters and whines against his knees, Tango made quick work of bandaging his wing, his hands as careful as ever now that the bone had been set. Jimmy was only barely aware of what was being done, too focused on not focusing on the pain. By the time Tango’s voice broke through to him again his wing had been carefully folded into a natural position against his back, bandages and a few wrapped branches helping to hold it that way.

“...Jimmy? Buddy? You with me?”

Jimmy shifted his head against his arms and turned slightly to peer out at Tango, who was much closer than he had been a minute ago. He had already been close, of course, but now that he was carefully holding Jimmy’s bandaged wing in place against his back, Jimmy could feel the netherlike warmth radiating off of him from his proximity. It was comforting, cozy, especially in comparison to the ache throbbing through his back.

“Jimmy? ”

Jimmy finally registered Tango’s worried expression and he nodded, small and jerky, against his arms.

“M’ here.”

“Hey. Hey, man. D’you think you can sit up a bit? I’ve gotta wrap this around your chest to keep everything from moving.”

Oh. Right. Yeah. Okay.

It took him a moment to get his limbs to comply, but after a few slow breaths and a quiet, wheezing chirp, Jimmy did as he was told. He tugged the satchel strap out of his mouth and warily uncurled himself from his tense position. It was a good sign when he didn’t feel any burning agony in the process. He raised his arms somewhat so Tango could get beneath them, and when Tango finally sat back and eyed his handiwork, Jimmy could confidently say he felt a bit more stable than he’d been before. Despite the ever-lingering ache from his injury and the mild discomfort of a few feathers being ruffled beneath their bandages, his wing no longer screamed when he moved. It was the first time since being attacked by that ravager that he actually felt like he could get back on his feet.

Tango hovered beside him for a few long, quiet moments, eyeing him with a notable amount of concern.

“...how’s it feel?” he asked, and Jimmy cautiously rolled his shoulders. He took a few deep breaths, the bandages around his chest adding just a little bit of resistance, and he flexed his right wing just to be sure - then he nodded.

“Better,” he landed on, exhaustion in his words. “Good.”

Tension rolled off of Tango’s shoulders at that, a notable sigh of relief making his chest rise and fall. He dragged a hand over his face and used the other to grope out blindly toward his discarded bag.

“Thank the void.” He sat back on his feet and shoved his now-dwindled roll of bandages away where it belonged, swapping it for his gloves and tugging them on one after the other. “I’m not a doctor. I’ve just picked up a lot o’ stuff in my line of work. At worst, I was worried I’d make it too tight and you’d just end up hurtin’ all over again, but–” He shrugged and tossed a lopsided smile in Jimmy’s direction. “Looks like I was worried for nothing, huh?”

Jimmy, exhausted as he was, couldn’t do much more than manage a soft smile in return. But it was something. He took a moment to carefully put his satchel back over his shoulder, the strap falling neatly between his wings and managing to not irritate his injured one, much to his relief. He rolled his shoulders again, wincing slightly at the tiny spark of pain it caused…but it was minimal. It was a relief.

A gloved hand entered his line of vision and he raised his eyes, following it up to its owner. To Tango. Tango, who was grinning softly in the low firelight and already on his feet.

“Let’s get you back to camp, huh?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The journey through the trees to Tango’s campsite was a quiet one, much calmer than the chaos that had occurred back in the clearing. Tango had insisted on making sure Jimmy was okay to walk on his own before they started out into the forest - which was kind of him to do, but unnecessary really. He was a little lightheaded and the ache in his back slowed his pace slightly, but he was capable enough to manage on his own.

(All the same, Jimmy couldn’t remember the last time someone had actively and determinedly put Jimmy’s needs ahead of their own. It left his chest feeling warm and aching all at once, an odd combination that he decided not to think too much on.)

Much to Jimmy’s unspoken dismay, the trip back also involved Tango herding his ravager back along with them, nothing but the chain on its neck and Tango’s supposed strength keeping it tethered. Jimmy had, at first, been more than a little wary of the beast - rightfully so - and even now being in such close proximity to the thing left him feeling horribly on edge. But it hadn’t so much as looked in his direction more than once or twice since they’d started on their path. It seemed entirely disinterested in him, and Jimmy wasn’t sure if that was Tango’s doing or if it had simply lost interest in Jimmy of its own accord.

He wasn’t sure what had caused it to want to chase him down earlier. He was only glad Tango was there to stop it if it decided to do so again.

According to Tango, it would only be a ten minute walk back to where he’d set up camp. It wasn’t a long journey by any means, but if it had been any longer Jimmy was sure he would’ve had to take a break to rest. It was made easier as well by the conversation being traded between himself and his savior, stories Tango was telling of the troublesome ravager he’d had to save Jimmy from in the first place. This was, apparently, not the first time it had escaped from him.

“It doesn’t happen as much anymore,” he was explaining as he helped Jimmy over a fallen tree, mindful of his bandaged wing as he did so. “The guy’s not fully grown so he’s just a bit feistier than his parents. The rest of ‘em listen to me pretty well, but skippy over here is a stubborn one.” He chuckled, tossing an amused and annoyed look back over his shoulder, eyeing the ravager behind them with the same look one would give an adorable yet misbehaving puppy. “Downright menace, I tell ya - HEY! No! Watch the light!”

Jimmy turned back to see Tango bopping the ravager on its large snout, flicking its nose once and making it snort at him. Tango made some kind of twirling hand movement through the air and the light source that had been illuminating their way thus far moved, gravitating towards Tango’s palm from wherever it had been hovering, and–

Jimmy blinked owlishly, watching as Tango’s suddenly-gloveless hand was engulfed in flames. He eyed the brilliant glow curiously, the energy coming off of it making the edges of his awareness tingle slightly. That…that was magic. That was witch’s magic. Or - well, it felt close to it, traces of something foreign making it feel just slightly distinguished from what Jimmy was used to, but - all the same. His eyes drifted past the fire to Tango, who had turned to him amidst his scolding and whose expression softened into a sheepish little smile, and Jimmy found himself turning thoughtful.

Tango was a witch.

Tango was a witch, but back in the clearing, he had called Jimmy an avian hybrid instead of a familiar.

Did Tango not know what a familiar’s magic felt like, or what a familiar was? Tango was some species of hybrid that Jimmy wasn’t yet acquainted with, but the red eyes and sharp teeth and his seeming penchant for flames had already given Jimmy the impression that Tango was from the nether or something. The glowing sticks encircling his head reminded Jimmy so strongly of blaze rods that he was beginning to wonder if that’s what they were. The nether was a different dimension entirely. Did witches work differently there? Did magic work differently there? Is that why this magic felt a hair’s breadth away from what Jimmy was used to…?

Or maybe Tango hadn’t wanted to call out what Jimmy was so plainly. It wasn’t as if all witches who openly recognized a familiar for what they were did it with kind intent. (Memories of what had happened with the Watcher Coven were proof enough of that.) Maybe this was Tango trying to prove himself a friendly stranger. Maybe–

“You alright there Jimbo?”

“Have you been using flames this whole time?” The question left him without much thought, his own curiosity getting the best of him, and Tango blinked. “Even back in the clearing, just before sundown…there was light. And I didn’t even think about it.”

Tango chuckled sheepishly and glanced at the flames in his hand. He shrugged and seemed to curl in around the fire.

“Well…yeah. I just can’t, uh. I just can’t see too well in the dark,” he said, his ears pressed halfway back against his head. “Like, I really can’t, so I need light. And fire’s easy.” There was a kind of uneasy silence that passed between them, though for the life of him Jimmy couldn’t fathom why. Tango shifted awkwardly, his blaze rods dimming. “...I can control it, if that’s what you’re worried about. No burnification happening here.”

Jimmy blinked at him, processing the words, and - oh. Oh. Oh, no, he–

“No, nonono, you’re fine!” he assured quickly, his hands placating. “No, sorry, that’s not - I didn’t–” He cut himself off before he had a chance to put his foot in his mouth and he laughed weakly, flustered and sheepish. “Oh my gosh, I’m so oblivious. I didn’t notice, is all. This whole time and I didn’t even notice you’d made fire.”

Tango seemed to open up a bit, his head cocking to the side and his uneasy smile turning more genuine.

“You don’t mind?”

Jimmy snorted out a giggle.

“Do I - no, of course not!” He’d be hypocritical if he did, being a mage himself. “I spent ages with someone who had strong ice magic. Fire’s just another element, innit?”

That seemed to be what Tango was hoping to hear because the relief that swept through him was palpable, his expression glowing and his grin wide and bright. He huffed out a half chuckle and nodded, tossing the flames upward again so they could light the way once more.

“Yeah,” he agreed, falling into step beside Jimmy again, the ravager following not far behind. His voice was low and warm, a little bit soft in a way Jimmy couldn’t quite name. “Yeah. Just another element.”

Something had lightened between them. It wasn’t significant, not all too palpable, but there was a level of ease to their conversations that hadn’t been there before. Familiarity, maybe, or…something. Something else. It was nice, whatever it was. Friendly and comfortable, something Jimmy got the feeling they’d both been needing for a while.

Tango was easy to get along with. They weren’t even talking about anything important, just - talking. Just being friendly. And it was cozy. Cozy, yeah, that was a good word for it. It was cozy and it was comfortable, and easy.

Their friendly chatter carried them all the way back to Tango’s campsite, at which point Jimmy came to an abrupt halt and couldn’t help but stare.

He had known Tango worked with magical creatures. He’d known this, and he’d seen the ravager he was herding, and he’d heard Tango say something about its parents and “the rest”. But despite all that he somehow he hadn’t quite put two and two together, and he now found himself staring at an entire herd of ravagers of varying sizes, most of them - that Jimmy could see - tethered to nearby trees with chains that were near identical to the one Tango had been toting all evening. There had to be half a dozen in all, though with how they were slowly shifting about, it was hard for Jimmy to count. All he knew was he was looking at more ravagers in one place right at that moment than all the ravagers he’d seen in his life before now put together.

Tango hadn’t been wrong in saying the one that had chased Jimmy down wasn’t fully grown. Two of the herd were larger than the rest, their statures even more intimidating than Jimmy’s attacker…and Jimmy’s breath caught at the mere idea of being cornered by one of them.

Tango seemed entirely unfazed by their size. He led the wayward miscreant back toward the rest of the herd with practiced ease, muttering more scolding berations as he went. He was greeted by the largest beast the moment he was close enough, its massive snout nosing at his hair and making him laugh.

“Yeah, hi, hello! I’m back, I’m back! Knock it off, will ya…?”

Despite his protests, Tango didn’t seem to mind its proximity one bit. He finished chaining up the runaway and turned around, patting a gloved hand against the muzzle of the big guy and chuckling with each huffed breath against his hair. A small smile began to grow, unbidden, on Jimmy’s face, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders as he watched on.

Tango looked at home here. He looked so natural and at ease among his creatures, as though he understood what they were trying to say, as if he spoke their language. He wasn’t even a little bit scared, not like Jimmy would be in his shoes. Another ravager ambled up to him, this one much much smaller, its small-horned head butting up against Tango’s legs and nearly knocking him over. As it stood, Tango barely managed to stay standing, and the look on his face had Jimmy biting back a laugh.

Tango’s eyes raised to meet his. There was a sparkle to them, a joy in them and a crinkle at their corners, and Jimmy’s grin only brightened at the sight.

Then Tango was waving him over.

Oh, gosh. Okay then. He…he could trust Tango. Right? The man was perhaps a bit mad to be herding ravagers of all things by himself, but he obviously knew what he was doing. And after all the kindness he’d shown Jimmy tonight, he wouldn’t steer him wrong.

Jimmy took a few tentative steps forward, ever mindful of the large beasts that were meandering in that corner of the campsite’s clearing. He wasn’t sure if he could trust them. Tango may have known how to communicate with them, but Jimmy surely didn’t, and something he had done earlier must have told the ravager he’d met that he was worth chasing. He kept his wing tucked close to his back, his steps slow and unsure. The grip on his satchel strap tightened incrementally whenever one of them snorted or huffed a little too loudly. But then he was all of eight feet away from Tango and Tango was detangling himself from the rest of the herd.

“Here, c’mere!” Tango grabbed him by the hand and tugged him forward, not even questioning it when Jimmy ended up half-tucking himself behind the other man’s body like it was a shield. “You’ll like this little guy, I promise. He’s a bit shy so we’re gonna go slow.”

Shy…?

Jimmy frowned at Tango, confused, but then he looked to where Tango was leading him. There, in the shadows of one of the larger trees at the edge of the clearing, was perhaps the smallest of the herd. He was tucked close to one of the bigger ravagers and watching Tango and Jimmy warily, taking a step back the moment they grew too close. It was then that Tango came to a stop, his tail dancing lazily behind him and a soft smile on his face.

“Here,” Tango murmured, tugging on Jimmy’s hand again. He maneuvered him around until his hand was outstretched, palm toward the tiny creature…and then he let go. He took a step back so he was just behind Jimmy’s right wing, so Jimmy was the one in front, and - oh. Oh no. Oh, Jimmy didn’t like this. He didn’t like this one bit–

“Relax,” Tango murmured, his voice low and close to Jimmy’s ear. “He’s more scared of you than you are of him. Just breathe, okay? C’mon man, you’ve got this. It’s just a baby.”

Just a baby. Just a baby, right. Okay. Yeah. He could - yeah.

Jimmy swallowed past the anxious lump in his throat and took a slow breath, just like Tango had told him. He stayed still, his hand shaking slightly, and he waited. And waited. Was…was he meant to be doing anything else? Was he meant to get closer, or say something, or…?

After what felt like ages, Jimmy began to turn his head to ask Tango one of those very questions, and it was then that the little ravager finally moved. He shuffled forward, snuffing at the air with his head raised curiously, his green eyes watching Jimmy oh-so-carefully. His stubby feet padded unsteadily against the trampled grass as he went. Then - when he was close enough for Jimmy to feel his puffed breaths against his hand - it seemed to gain a bit more confidence. It jolted forward and Jimmy flinched back, unable to move far with Tango behind him, and he closed his eyes on impulse alone–

Something warm and soft met his palm. Very soft, softer than Jimmy had been anticipating. A quiet snickering laugh sounded near his ear.

“Open your eyes, buddy.”

Jimmy did as Tango asked and squinted one eye open, his face and shoulders tense all the while, and - oh. The ravager was nuzzling up against his hand, sniffing at the underside of his wrist curiously. His tail flicked back and forth behind him, and it was only now that the little guy was closer that Jimmy noticed the differing shade of gray in the younger ravager’s coat compared to the older ones. It was just a little lighter with white flecked through it and darker patches across his shoulders and back. And it was soft. Jimmy let out a breath of wonder and his expression softened, his eyes going slightly wide as he gently ran his hand up the ravager’s snout. The little thing leaned into it, snorting quietly and taking another step closer, seemingly chasing after what affection Jimmy was willing to give.

Something about him was familiar, and it didn’t take long for Jimmy to figure out why. He reminded Jimmy startling of a baby cow, of one of the calves he had taken care of at the cottage. Despite the stockier build and the broader shoulders and deeper vocal patterns, the mannerisms and the ways they communicated were so, so similar. It was like comparing a wild wolf to a domesticated dog. They were different, certainly, but at the end of the day they were part of the same family. Perhaps ravagers were just an offshoot of a different species that lived centuries ago, one that the modern cows and bulls also descended from. Maybe.

Wide, green, cowlike eyes blinked up at Jimmy, drooping little gray ears flicking a little bit alongside, and as Jimmy let his hand shift to gently stroke the side of the calf’s neck, he all but melted in the face of such a sweet creature. Forget what he’d said about ravagers earlier. This one was adorable, and he clearly wasn’t going to hurt anyone. He was just a little friend.

The young ravager let out a honking sort of mewl, one that had Tango chuckling over Jimmy’s shoulder. In truth, Jimmy had been so wrapped up in the small creature before him he’d forgotten Tango was still there.

“You’re not hungry,” Tango told the calf, his tone almost teasing. “I watched you eat. Quit begging, you little stinker.”

“Are you sure?” Jimmy asked, fighting back a smile as the ravager nosed at Jimmy’s satchel. He tugged it gently out of the way so no leaking potions could touch the little guy’s snout. “He’s very insistent, Tango.”

“No. Nuh-uh.” Tango reached around Jimmy to scritch around the nubs of the calf’s tiny horns, shaking his head just barely out of the corner of Jimmy’s eye. “I like giving ‘em treats, but I’ve only got so much to last the trip. He’ll do just fine until breakfast tomorrow.”

Jimmy finally dragged his attention away from the ravager to eye Tango curiously.

“Why’re you herding these guys anyway? You never said.”

“Well,” Tango stepped out from behind Jimmy to better give attention to the calf, rubbing the bridge of its snout with his knuckles and smiling lopsidedly when it let out another honking whine for food, “I think I said I work with magical creatures for a living. Beasts, critters, monsters, wayward pets - all of it. I prefer working with the big guys, but–” He shrugged and his smile was turned toward Jimmy instead. “–I like wee beasties just as much.”

The little ravager pressed its head more insistently against Tango’s stomach and Tango sighed dramatically, seemingly caving and digging through the bag still slung across his shoulder.

“Okay, okay!” he drawled, pulling a leather pouch free and holding it high above his head where the calf couldn’t reach it. “Hold your horses!”

It was another few moments of Tango juggling the pouch in one hand and holding back a wiggling baby ravager with the other, and it was only when Jimmy stepped in to distract the little guy with scratches around his horn nubs - just like he’d seen Tango do - that Tango finally had a chance to pour some of the pouch’s contents out onto his gloved palm. Jimmy barely caught a glance of something small and bright red before Tango offered it to the ravager, and the little snack vanished quickly amid small snuffs and tiny muted grunts. Berries, if he had to guess.

“Hungry little goofball,” Tango muttered, shaking his head in warm amusement. He let the ravager finish off his treat and wiped his hand on his pants, scratching the top of the little guy’s head one more time for good measure. “Anyway…like I said, I work with creatures.”

Jimmy perked up, tuning back into the story and watching as Tango stowed the little snack pouch away. He plucked deftly at the fingertips of his goves, tugging them both off and tucking them away alongside the pouch.

“I got a job - oh, ‘bout two weeks back?” Tango shrugged and fastened the closure on his bag. “Some guy a little further to the west had some complaints about some big buggers that were uprooting his field and eating his fresh sprouts.” He nodded toward the herd with a small grin. “These guys.”

The little ravager slowly returned to where he’d been hiding, tucking up close to the larger ravager from before and nuzzling in close. Tango watched him for a moment before turning away. His path carried him back to the other end of camp where Jimmy could now make out the rest of Tango’s setup. A small stone-edged firepit had been dug into the earth with a kettle hanging over it, and just beyond that was a small cave entrance Jimmy hadn’t noticed before. The whole campsite had been tucked up against a cliff face, probably safer from the elements than it would have been to set up camp in another more open clearing, and though it was too dark to see inside, Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion the cave probably extended far enough into the rock to allow someone to bunk there for the night if need be.

All the while, the glowing flames Tango had been using to illuminate the night followed them overhead, and it was only now as they approached the fire pit that he summoned them downward to his bare palm again. The blaze rods burned brighter around his head as if to make up for the shift in lighting.

“So anyway, I show up at his place,” Tango went on, crouching on the balls of his feet to fuss with the pit’s kindling, drawing fresh wood over from a pile not far off, “and he’s this grumpy old jerk. He’s spewing all these complaints about ‘miserable creatures’ and ‘they’re a menace I tell you!’ and I’m just nodding along, all friendly-like, like “Yes sir, of course sir”. And I tell him I’ll take a look - oh, sorry Jimmy, uh. There’s a blanket over there if you wanna sit on something other than the ground.”

Jimmy’s eyes followed Tango’s gesturing hand to a small wooden cart, one tucked away in the trees, and he murmured a friendly thanks as he went to fetch the blanket Tango had mentioned. He carefully shouldered off his bag as he went, the broken glass inside tinkling beneath the leather and making him wince. He’d have to clean that out later.

He set it aside to look for the blanket, and Tango’s story continued on in the background.

“So I tell him I’ll take a look, right? And I go out there - and it’s this tiny herd of ravagers. Two big ones, two adolescents, and a handful of calves. I’m talkin’ just born calves, absolutely tiny things.”

“Like the one I just met?” Jimmy asked, understanding, and Tango nodded vigorously.

“Exactly! That little guy’s only a few weeks old.” He shifted one last log, made a twisting motion with his hand, and the campfire came to life with warmth and light. He grinned, victorious, and clapped his hands a few times to get rid of bits of bark and debris. Then he squinted over at Jimmy through the semi-darkness “Uh - yeah, that one. Plop it down and we can take a breather.”

Jimmy, who had been holding a thick blue blanket aloft in question, let out a little sigh of relief and did as he was asked. He started to unfold it across the ground near the fire and Tango reached over to help lay it out. Jimmy smiled at him in gratitude.

“So basically, there were a bunch of ravagers on some guy’s property, and he just asked you to take them off his hands?”

Tango’s expression darkened. For a moment, Jimmy wondered if he’d said something wrong.

“No.” Tango let out a short, wheezing huff, his hair suddenly crackling with sparks, and Jimmy eyed the tiny flickering flames with concern. “Nah. The guy - he wasn’t friendly, like I said.” Tango tugged at one corner of the blanket forcefully, smoothing it out with a little more sharpness than was necessary. “I told him what was back there, and he wanted me to–” Tango’s jaw clenched and his eyes flashed, smoke leaking into the air from somewhere Jimmy couldn’t place. From somewhere on Tango. “He said to deal with them, and he didn’t mean it in the casual sense.”

Jimmy, who had been carefully settling down onto the blanket in an attempt to avoid jostling his bound wing, took longer than he should have to register what Tango meant.

“Wh - wait, like–”

“He wanted them gone,” Tango muttered sharply, irately, his tail lashing at the air behind him as he dropped onto the blanket himself. “Didn’t matter that some of ‘em were just babies.”

Jimmy’s expression fell, his eyes trailing to the far corner of the clearing where the smallest of the ravagers was still hiding in the shadows, shy and sweet and wanting nothing but affection and food.

“I told him there were bitties over there too, but he just–” Tango scoffed, raking back his hair with both hands, a snarl curling his lips. Then he yanked off his bag, dropping it in his lap and sorting through it jerkily, harshly. The remaining branches he hadn’t used were tossed toward the collection of firewood and the pouch of berries was dropped by Tango’s side. The blaze rods around his head spun rapidly with his irritation, aglow with internal flames. “They only wanted food! They were hungry, and they had their calves out of season, so they didn’t migrate north with the rest of the herd–”

Then Tango yanked a tangle of rope from his bag a little too harshly, elbowing Jimmy in the process, and Jimmy sucked down a sharp breath with a shocked chirp at the jolt of pain it sent sparking through his wing. Tango’s attention instantly snapped to him and his anger dissipated in a heartbeat, wide red eyes and a startled expression coming to life on his face.

“Shit, sorry!” he stammered out quickly, scrambling to his knees and creating a small distance between them. “I’m sorry man, that–” He glanced toward Jimmy’s bound wing, eyeing the way Jimmy was clutching at his shoulder with a wince. Jimmy’s attempt at a strained smile went unseen. “I’ll grab that potion for you. Hold tight.”

Then he was scampering off, ducking into the cave’s entrance and vanishing into the shadows. Jimmy stared after him as the momentary pain faded back to a dull throbbing ache.

Tango was, perhaps, one of the strangest people Jimmy had ever met. Not the strangest by far - Pearl could be much stranger in comparison - but he certainly wouldn’t be someone Jimmy would be forgetting anytime soon. He had this aura of unending, boundless energy to him, and an air of easy joy and excitement. Despite the crisis of a situation that had brought them together today, Jimmy was sure he’d seen Tango smiling more than frowning since they’d met. There was also his fiery nature - physically and metaphorically - that still had Jimmy wondering what, exactly, he was and where he came from…but only for his own curiosity rather than for judgment’s sake. It was unique, it was definitely unique in Jimmy’s experience, and Jimmy wasn’t sure he could picture Tango any other way than with his ruby eyes and fiery hair and animated tail and flames.

He was also warmth, Jimmy noted. Warmth and kindness and compassion. Zealous compassion, from what Jimmy had seen, but also gentleness when needed. Tango carefully splinting Jimmy’s wing with as much care as he could muster. Tango easing Jimmy into meeting a young ravager, going slow so neither Jimmy nor the ravager would get spooked in the process. He was kind. He was a good person, one who grew irate at the thought of creatures being killed for no reason, and one who offered Jimmy his hospitality for the night to ensure he’d get home safely the next day.

Jimmy smiled softly to himself, his unbound wing going lax and comfortable against his back. It was rare to find kind strangers, but Tango was proving to be the exception. A kind stranger and pleasant company to boot. For all that Jimmy often thought himself unlucky, he seemed to have run into a wondrous stroke of good luck, despite the injury he’d sustained in the process. It was a welcome change.

The feathers around Jimmy’s ears perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned to see Tango finally returning, his arms ladened with a few more things than Jimmy had been expecting to see. He frowned curiously, his head cocking to the side and his feathers flaring.

“Did you not find the potion?”

Tango ducked below a low branch and settled onto the blanket beside Jimmy again, the firelight illuminating one side of his sheepishly smiling face. He let his haul tumble to the ground beside him, retaining his hold on a stoppered glass bottle as he did so.

“Nah, I found it,” he said. “Like I said, I don’t have a healing potion, but this’ll help with the pain.”

He handed it over and Jimmy took it with grateful hands, letting out a breath and carefully tugging out the stopper. The lingering smell of nether wart and sweet fruit met his nose and he sighed, the semi-familiarity a balm on his senses. He sipped at it slowly, the fizzy coolness of it tickling at his throat. He felt his magic rush up to meet it, the cool soothe shifting to a cozy sort of warmth as it settled in his very being, his aching shoulder and back the first to be alleviated. By the time the effects reached his wing, Jimmy felt like putty, a pleasant buzz just beneath his skin that was far more welcome than the ache and sharp jolting pains that he’d been doing his best to ignore before.

“Better?”

Tango sounded amused, and when Jimmy blinked sluggishly up at him, he caught sight of a cheeky sort of grin on the other man’s face. He nodded and smiled, more than a little grateful.

“Immensely. Thank you.” He restoppered the bottle and held it out for Tango to take, but Tango just pushed it back in Jimmy’s direction.

“Dude, keep it,” he insisted. “I don’t know how long of a trip you’ve got to get back home, but you’ll need it even if it’s short. Trust me.”

Jimmy had half a mind to insist right back, but - well. Tango looked quite determined, and he was already turning back to his pile of acquisitions before Jimmy could even attempt to get a word in edge-wise. So Jimmy let it lie.

“What is all that?” he asked instead, setting the potion bottle aside for later and trying to see past Tango to the items he’d brought back with him.

Tango flashed a grin over his shoulder before turning to face him, presenting a foil-made bowl of sorts with a mix of ingredients inside it.

“Food!” He announced proudly. “It’s not much, just some chicken and veggies and red pepper action. Couple spices. I normally like my food super spiced, but I kinda figured you’d want something a bit more on the normal scale.”

Jimmy eyed the mix hungrily, eagerly, already nodding along to whatever Tango was describing.

“Please,” he agreed. “Thank you. Oh my gosh, I didn’t even think to bring anything with me, you’re a lifesaver.”

He hadn’t eaten a thing since leaving the inn that morning. He wasn’t planning on eating lunch because it sometimes threw him off when he was trying to attune or meditate, but he’d also assumed he’d be back in town before sundown. Whatever meal he would have eaten was sitting back in his room in the ice box.

Tango shrugged and waved him off with a lopsided grin.

“Naaah, it’s just campout food. It’s nothin’ special. I put a bunch of stuff in a stasis chest for the trip. Potatoes and chicken and stuff is easy.” He shifted forward and crouched on the balls of his feet beside the fire, wrapping the food up into a tinfoil ball and plunging his entire fist into the flames.

Jimmy almost yelped to warn him away from burning himself before remembering that Tango was, in fact, a being of fire himself. As it stood, the strangled twittering sound that escaped him was just as humiliating and Jimmy ended up flushing under Tango’s shit-eating grin all the same.

It reminded him of Grian, but with far less malice.

“What, worried over little ol’ me?” Tango teased cheekily.

Jimmy took the mature route and stuck his tongue out at him. Tango only laughed.

In the comfortable quiet that followed, broken only by the crackling of the fire, the distant sound of ravagers, and the sizzle of cooking food, Jimmy scooted closer to the front edge of the blanket to bask in the warmth of the flames. He uncurled his unbound wing and stretched it leisurely, letting the fire warm his feathers for a moment or two. His eyes drifted over toward the shifting herd tethered across the clearing.

“...do you normally handle big creatures like this by yourself?” he asked, curious, and Tango turned his head slightly to give Jimmy a momentary glance.

“Nowadays, yeah,” he said, returning his focus to the food. “I didn’t used to. I had a team I used to work with - bunch of friends, really. Four of us. Me, Skizz, Etho, and Bdubs. We were the best.” He snorted, chuckling lightly at a joke of some kind that Jimmy must’ve not been privy to.

“Not anymore?” Jimmy asked. Tango merely shrugged, his grin still lingering, though Jimmy could see the way it grew more melancholy at the edges.

“Nah,” said Tango. “The team kinda busted up. Little over a year ago, there was this…” He turned the foil over in the flames, pondering for a moment. “...well, I guess I’d call it an incident. Explosion? Something like that. Nobody was seriously hurt, but the whole damn building went sky-high.”

Jimmy gaped at him

“Holy moly - are you serious?!”

“Dead serious.” Tango smirked. “You ever heard of a wither?”

At the mention of its name, Jimmy paled, his eyes widening slightly. A wither? They were demonic wraiths, powerful ones. They usually only ever appeared in the overworld if summoned by hand, and they were extremely difficult to take down once summoned. They breathed death and left unease and lifelessness in their wake.

“Yeah,” he murmured, and Tango grinned sharply.

“Well, Etho and Bdubs managed to summon one by accident. Took all of us to take the damn thing out, and Bdubs got hit with some major witherfication in the process. The guy was bedridden for a whole day afterward.”

Jimmy stared. By…by accident? How–

“Etho and Bdubs ended up going their separate ways after that, and my buddy Skizz heard news that another friend of ours was headin’ home for a month before taking a gig with a coven of some kind, so he went off to spend some time with the guy.” Tango pulled the foil from the fire with a sniff, shrugging one shoulder as he peeled back the outermost layer to take a look inside. “Which left me without backup. I liked the job too much to just stop, so I kept on going without ‘em.”

“By accident?” Jimmy blurted out, still staring at Tango, gobsmacked. Tango, who was rewrapping the foil to shove it back into the fire, flicked one ear in his direction.

“Hm?”

“The wither,” he said. “They summoned it by accident.”

“Uh - oh! Yeah,” Tango snorted and chuckled. “Yeah, they did.”

“How??”

“Oh, you know…” Tango made a swirling motion in the air with one hand, his tail dancing lazily behind him. “...Etho’s a pretty strong witch, and Bdubs was his familiar. Perfect fit, they always said, and - I mean from what I could tell they were insanely powerful together. Their spells were friggin’ nuts. They ended up breaking their bond or whatever after the wither shindig happened, for safety they said, and - I dunno.” He shrugged, picking at the foil again to check the cooking food. “I asked Etho after Bdubs had already left, and he just said they were too compatible. It’s why he went looking for another familiar.” He sat back on his heels and reached for a wayward tin plate with his free hand, toting it close and dropping the half-wrapped and now sizzling, steaming food onto it. “He said something about a…I don’t know, magical overload? Too much fuel for the fire? Hels if I know, I don’t know a lick about magic. That was more Impy’s area of expertise…”

For what seemed like the umpteenth time since meeting Tango that night, Jimmy found himself staring gobsmacked at the semi-stranger in front of him. He didn’t know much about magic…? What in the world was Tango even–

“But you’re a witch,” he said bluntly, and Tango paused, shooting him an incredulous, amused look. He let out a confused giggle, his brow furrowing with his smile.

“What?” He tilted his head. “What, you mean the flameification? The fire? That’s just netherborn stuff. I’m a blaze hybrid, it’s what we do.”

“No - no, that–” Jimmy shook his head. He was only half paying attention as Tango separated half of the meat and vegetables onto a second plate and pressed it into Jimmy’s hands. The tin plate only survived gravity thanks to some sort of muscle memory on Jimmy’s part to automatically grab what he’d been handed. “I felt the magic in your flames. That’s witch magic. It’s a bit different, but it’s definitely a witch’s magic.”

Tango plopped onto the blanket beside Jimmy with a disbelieving laugh, plate in hand and smile as incredulous as before.

“Uh - no, it’s nether magic,” he corrected, though he sounded a bit less sure of himself. “My best friend is a witch. He would’ve known if - wait you felt my magic?” he cut himself off abruptly, eyes locking sharply on Jimmy. He gave the avian a once-over, his eyebrows flying high. “Are you a witch?”

Jimmy spluttered.

“I - no! I’m not a–” He set his untouched plate aside, spinning to face Tango more fully on the blanket. No wonder Tango had thought he was an avian hybrid before. “I’m a familiar. A canary.” He jerked a thumb back over his shoulder toward his wings, which Tango was now taking in with a dawning spark of understanding in his eyes. “I’ve been bound to a witch before, I know what a witch’s magic feels like. And you’ve got it.”

Tango was quiet in the aftermath of that statement, his own food just as untouched as Jimmy’s and a still, puzzled expression on his face. His tail had curled close around him at some point during Jimmy’s insistent declaration and one of his ears flicked every so often in the following silence, his hair and blaze rods sparking slightly in the fire-lit darkness of the night.

Then Tango’s gaze dropped, one hand coming up to summon a few tiny, swirling flames above his palm.

“...you…this?” He held the flames out toward Jimmy. “This feels like witch stuff?”

He sounded quiet, curious. Unsure.

Jimmy took an even breath and reached forward, his hand hovering above Tango’s and basking in the tiny warmth. He closed his eyes, his magical core reaching out in a similar manner to how it had when he’d attempted to attune early that afternoon. This time, rather than emanating from his entire being, it centered around his extended hand, dancing around his fingers and swirling out into the air around his palm. Just as before, Tango’s fire - his magic - was easy to sense, the warmth of it and the familiar traces of witchcraft resonating in Jimmy’s peripherals. Now that he was actively seeking it out, though, he was able to read it so much clearer than before. It was a bit chaotic, constantly moving and dancing around Jimmy’s magic, curious and uncontrolled and almost new. It wasn’t quite a fledgling core - Tango was too old for that - but it was undeveloped. Untried, untrained. It was warm and welcoming too, reaching out and drawing Jimmy in with an open sort of innocent curiosity that was usually trained out of most mages at a young age.

But Tango hadn’t been trained, Jimmy realized.

Tango hadn’t even known he was a witch to begin with.

Tango didn’t have a clue what he was doing, hadn’t even realized the untapped potential singing just below his chest until…until Jimmy. And maybe he wouldn’t have known for a long while after, if Jimmy had never come along.

Tango sucked down a sharp, gasped breath and Jimmy pulled back, his eyes flying open and his magic reigning itself in quickly.

“What - what?” he stammered out, his unbound wing puffing up in concern. “What’d I do?”

Tango’s other hand was pressed to his chest and his eyes were wide, awestruck, his hair aglow seemingly from within. He blinked a few times before meeting Jimmy’s eyes.

“I…felt that,” he whispered. “Whatever that was. I felt - what the heck was that?”

Jimmy frowned, concerned.

“I just…reached out?” he offered with a one-shouldered shrug. “Your magic reached back a bit, but that’s all. I didn’t do much. Why, did it hurt?”

“No, it–” Tango rubbed his knuckles over his sternum, looking thoughtful. Then he chuckled, a watery, nervous smile tugging at his lips. “It was just weird. And warm. And, uh - I dunno. Sparkly.”

“Sparkly?” Jimmy repeated. His worry melted away and he smiled softly. Magic. Tango was sensing magic, maybe for the first time. “Did it feel familiar, or completely new?”

“A bit familiar, yeah,” Tango nodded slowly. “Kinda like…” He huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “This sounds nuts, but it kinda felt like–” He eyed his palm, where the flames he had summoned had long since gone out. “–well, you know when you meet someone on the street, and you know you know them, but you can’t remember why? Or they just - look different than the last time you saw them, so you can’t figure out where you know ‘em from until like an hour later? It’s like that.”

“Like someone you used to know?” Jimmy offered, his head tilting to the side and his ear feathers flaring. Tango nodded more vigorously.

“Yeah, that! Exactly.” A brilliant grin had come to life on his face, giddy almost, and he poked his own chest. “Like - right here, I could feel that. And–” He broke off, recognition dawning, and he stared wide-eyed at Jimmy. “Oh my god, I’m a witch.”

Jimmy grinned brightly.

“You are!” he agreed, his unbound wing fluttering in his excitement. “That’s what I was saying!”

Tango laughed, a bit giddy and hysterical at first, then it grew brighter. Bright and loud and full-bodied, his amusement and excitement and joy palpable in the rasping laughter resonating in the clearing.

“Oh my gods, Impy’s never gonna believe this!” he crowed, seemingly overjoyed. “The guy’s been the only witch in our friend group for years, and now here I am - some sorta incognito witch-in-hiding. Like a sleeper agent.” He bounced a bit where he sat, grinning brilliantly at Jimmy. “I feel like I should be asking you what my code word was, man. This is - this is unreal.”

Jimmy warmed at the sight of Tango’s excitement, his energy infectious and his grin ever-present. The space beneath his ribs felt so full of joy for this zany stranger that he was sure he’d pop. Tango had never known. His whole life, and he’d never known, and now that he knew - it was like watching a kid on Christmas the way he seemed to be lighting up from the inside. This whole piece of himself that he hadn’t even realized he’d been missing out on, and now it was like they’d suddenly been reunited. Jimmy couldn’t even imagine.

“Wait - you know magic,” Tango said suddenly, and Jimmy straightened.

“I - yeah?”

“Can you teach me?”

Oh - oh, gosh.

“I - well…” Jimmy’s smile turned a bit strained and his ear feathers flattened against his head, his wing drooping against the blanket. “...I’m not very good.”

“I doubt that,” Tango scoffed. “I bet you know loads of stuff.”

And he did, to a point, Tango wasn’t wrong. But knowing magic and being skilled in magic were two vastly different things. Jimmy opened his mouth, closed it, and chewed on his lip, trying to explain that he really wasn’t the person Tango should be turning to for magical training.

Tango, fortunately, managed to come up with a solid distraction before Jimmy even needed to say a word.

“Oh - food. We didn’t even eat yet, I completely forgot–”

Tango was reaching across to grab Jimmy’s meal before he even noticed Tango had gotten close, a tin plate balanced in each hand. For a moment, Jimmy wasn’t sure what Tango was doing - and then a low heat began to resonate off of the plates and the food they held. Oh - fire, of course. Warmth. Tango’s specialty. After a few long moments Tango set both plates down between them, grinning proudly.

“Magic,” he declared, waggling his eyebrows, and Jimmy couldn’t really stifle the small laugh it drew from him as a result. “C’mon, let’s eat before it gets cold again. I wanna learn some more about this witch stuff before I get too tired to focus.”

Ah. Or perhaps Jimmy wasn’t quite as off the hook as he’d hoped.

Tango had been kind enough (and willing enough) to fill the quiet between bites of their meal. He had plenty of stories to tell about past jobs he’d taken, it seemed - though Jimmy hadn’t a clue what a sniffer was or why it was so rare. He just reveled in how excited Tango seemed to be to have encountered one in the first place.

But at some point, when Jimmy was following Tango down to a nearby stream to rinse their dishes, the conversation turned to Jimmy instead. It wasn’t that Jimmy had been avoiding talking about himself necessarily, but - well. With how sore certain events in his recent past still were, it wasn’t as if Jimmy had been chomping at the bit to tell his own dramatic tale.

“I never asked - what’re you even doing out here in the forest?” Tango had asked. “It’s a bit deep in to just be going for a stroll.”

And Jimmy - well, Jimmy simply didn’t have the heart to lie to him after Tango had shared so much of his own story tonight.

“Er…attuning,” he murmured, leaning his shoulder against a tree as he watched Tango’s crouched form at the river’s edge. “I’ve had a bit of trouble with my familiar transformations lately, so my brothers said I ought to find a place to attune.” At the puzzled look Tango shot over his shoulder - ah, right, Tango wouldn’t know the terminology - Jimmy elaborated. “Attuning’s like - magical meditation? Sort of? It…well, for familiars, you’re basically trying to find harmony between your human side and your familiar side. To make it easier to shift back and forth, to be able to tap into certain abilities - that sort of thing. So, for me, it’s me and my inner canary.”

“Ahhh.” Tango nodded in understanding. He tapped the second tin plate lightly against his knee to dislodge some of the loose water still lingering on it. “So - what, you and your inner birdy aren’t getting along?”

Jimmy snorted.

“No, not–” He huffed out a half laugh. “Not like that. It’s more like things just aren’t syncing up, is all.” And I’m not strong enough, a small, traitorous voice in the back of his head murmured, one he shoved away forcefully with a barely restrained grimace.

“Did it help?”

“Hm?”

Tango, who had stood and approached him by now, made a vague gesture in the direction of Jimmy’s wings.

“The whole - attunification thing,” he wiggled his fingers as if to mimic magic of some kind. “Did it help?”

Jimmy winced.

“Not yet,” he admitted. “I’m not great at meditation anyway, and my wings were too itchy. I kept getting distracted.”

“Oof. That sucks.”

Jimmy shrugged, trailing after Tango back to camp, the now-familiar flames hovering along overhead. With the way a cool air had settled over the forest, Jimmy was grateful for the small warmth they provided. He shoved his fists into his pockets and drew his unbound wing close, curling it around himself to stave off the chill. Then he sighed.

“If I can get my hands on another healing potion, then I can just try again tomorrow.”

The campsite came into view and Tango made a temporary beeline toward the cave, dropping the dishes and cutlery at the entrance without bothering to go inside. He was back by the campfire soon enough, dragging another log over to keep it going. Jimmy huddled close to the fire at the blanket’s edge once more, soaking in whatever warmth he could before he’d inevitably ask if Tango had another blanket to spare.

He could wait. He’d rather be polite than needy.

“You mentioned brothers?” Tango asked, shifting a log with his bare hands, a sight that Jimmy was still getting used to. “So you’ve got family waiting for you when you’re done here, huh?”

“Brothers, yes. Waiting, no.” Jimmy drew his knees to his chest and folded his arms on top of them, his chin resting on his sleeves. “Sort of. They - I mean. Grian’s my older brother by blood. He’s an avian familiar like me, just a different breed. And we grew up with Martyn living right next door. A witch. The whole little community was magical in some way or another. Witches, familiars, magical hybrids, people with other abilities - that was home. I didn’t know there were people who grew up without magic until I was into my early teens at least.”

Tango had gone quiet, and when Jimmy flicked his eyes in the other man’s direction, he was listening to Jimmy with his full attention. There was a small smile on his face and his tail was flicking back and forth along the ground behind him.

“That sounds really nice,” he said, and Jimmy ducked his head with a sheepish smile of his own.

“Yeah…it was,” he agreed. For a while, anyway. But that wasn’t a story he brought up easily. He took a breath. “Anyway, I’ve been with this coven for about a year now. Grian, Martyn, another witch, and a friend of Grian’s who’s - well he’s not a witch. But he’s into science and studying magic.”

Tango let out a huffed little laugh.

“Heh, yeah…I know one o’ them. Got a friend like that.”

Jimmy’s cheek pressed into his shirt sleeve with his grin.

“Is he friendly, curious, a bit mad? Possibly a danger to himself?”

“Yup!” Tango snickered, shifting away from the fire to sprawl back on the blanket. He propped himself up on his side, grinning at Jimmy all the while. “Got it in one. Your science guy wouldn’t happen to be named Zedaph, would he?”

“Nah, not even close,” Jimmy returned. Tango sighed in mock disappointment. “I imagine they’d be fast friends if they met though.”

“Oh, for sure!” Tango flashed him a cheeky grin. “So what about this coven of yours?”

“Right! Right, yeah.” Jimmy shrugged. “My story sounds a bit like yours, actually. The keep we lived in met a bit of an explosive end. A healing crystal experiment gone very very wrong.”

“Oh nooo,” Tango groaned, looking apologetic. “That sucks man. Was everyone okay?”

“Yeah, ‘course!” Jimmy nodded against his arms. “Mostly alright. But - well I hadn’t exactly told Grian I’d been having trouble transforming, an’ then I got stuck under rubble and couldn’t get out because I couldn’t shrink down to get between the gaps in the stone, and…well.” He gestured to himself, then to the canopy overhead. “He and Martyn sent me off into the forest to fix the problem.”

“Oof, harsh.”

“More like necessary.”

“Maybe.” Tango’s smile stretched to a grin and he reached over to poke Jimmy’s shoulder. “Well hey, you met me, didn’t you?” he said brightly. “That’s gotta be an upside!”

Jimmy smirked.

“Yeah. Except the part where you broke my wing.”

Tango squawked, spluttering, his blaze rods swirling.

“Wh- hey! The ravager broke your wing!” he protested, affronted. “I’m the guy who tried to help fix it!”

Jimmy giggled against his arm, enjoying the faces Tango was making across the blanket. He was probably more animated than most people Jimmy had met. It suited him.

“You did,” he agreed. “I can’t remember if I ever said thank you for that. So…you know. Thank you.”

Tango’s indignant pout made way for another one of his bright smiles in an instant as he waved Jimmy’s words away.

“It’s nothing, really,” he shrugged it off. “I’m just glad I could help.”

Jimmy traced patterns against the blanket for a few quiet seconds, watching the way the fire reflected in the red of Tango’s eyes. He turned thoughtful. Whether it was his ravager or not, Tango really had helped him immensely in the long run. He could have left Jimmy there to fend for himself, but instead, he’d scrounged supplies together for a splint. He’d invited Jimmy back to his campsite for safety and given him a meal and treated him as a friend. He didn’t have to do all that, but he had…and he had expected nothing for it in return.

Maybe…maybe Jimmy ought to return the favor, even if it was in a small way. Maybe he could work past his hangups to give Tango the only thing he’d requested all night. He uncurled himself and turned to face Tango cross-legged, extending a hand to him.

“Would you like to learn a spell?”

Tango perked up immediately, his smile bright and eager as he scrambled to sit up the same way Jimmy was.

“Yeah,” he breathed, excitement in his eyes. “Oh my gosh, yes. Please.”

Jimmy didn’t bother trying to hide the pleased smile Tango’s reaction caused.

“Alright, well - we can start with something small and useful. Okay? A tiny healing spell.” Tango nodded readily. “Right. Okay. So - here, hold your hands out in front of you, palm up - sort of. Relax your fingers…” Jimmy reached out to trace along the back of Tango’s hands, guiding him so his fingers were curling ever-so-slightly upward, as if holding an invisible weight. “...yeah, like that. Exactly.” He shook out his own hands and rested them face-down on top of Tango’s, his middle fingertips pressed gently to the pulse point on each of Tango’s wrists.

Jimmy took a slow, shuddering breath. Gods. The last time he’d even done this with someone one-on-one was back with - Scott. With Scott. They usually did group spellcasting in the Southlands. And even when they didn’t, Grian was always willing to step in when Impulse or Martyn needed to cast a solo spell, so Jimmy hadn’t assisted a witch individually like this in almost a year. Not since the cottage. His jaw tensed and he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to focus.

This wasn’t Scott. It was Tango, and Tango was a new witch who needed his guidance…for as much guidance as a less powerful familiar like him could even offer, anyhow.

“What do I do now?” Tango asked in a hoarse stage whisper, and Jimmy nearly choked on a startled laugh.

“Sorry. Right, um–” Jimmy took a quick breath. “Okay. Most magic is just…intent. Feelings, sort of. Some more complex stuff requires sigils and runes and long incantations and certain - er - extra ingredients, I guess? Stuff that can help you channel certain kinds of magic. But minor healing like this doesn’t need anything extra. It’s like levitation an’ kinetic stuff, it’s more instinctual. So, um.”

He chewed his lip, trying to figure out how to explain. He’d never needed to put what spellcasting felt like into words before. Jimmy had grown up around mages that already knew what that felt like, or had been told by their parents. And then by the time he’d left Evo behind, he was old enough that most mages he met were just as trained as he was, if not moreso. This was entirely new territory for him.

But for Tango, he’d try his best.

“You said you felt your magic before, yeah?” he asked instead, his ear feathers flaring curiously, and Tango gave a stuttering sort of nod. “That warm spot right in the middle of your chest - that’s your magical core. That’s where your power comes from.” Tango nodded more decisively. “‘Kay. Do you think you can find it again?”

“Mmmmaybeee?” Tango hazarded slowly, squinting in thought. “I mean, if you do that glowy-mojo-thing you did before, I can probably figure it out again…?”

Okay. Good first step.

“We can try that,” Jimmy agreed. “But let’s start with our goal. Do you have - I dunno, a bruise? Papercut? Something like that?”

Tango shrugged.

“Not that I know of.” Then he shot Jimmy a cheeky grin. “What, I’m not advanced enough to try an’ fix up your wing, bird boy?”

Jimmy’s unbound wing twitched agitatedly at his back and he rolled his eyes.

“Absolutely not,” he said, the sharpness in his denial coming through as humorous. “Trust me, not even I would attempt that without a magebond.”

Tango snickered to himself.

“Eh, worth a shot.” Then he gave Jimmy a quick once-over, his grin softening to a hopeful smile. “Maybe something smaller? Did you get scuffed up anywhere else? I can fix that instead.”

Jimmy blinked, slightly surprised. He - he hadn’t even thought of using the spell on himself. He just wanted Tango to learn something that would keep him safer on his journey. Tango’s offer was-

It was sweet.

“I - guess?” he managed on a breath. “My, um. My hands got scrapped up on bark, when I was tackled. That would be easy enough.”

“Yeah, that!” Tango grinned. “Let’s do that.”

Oh, gosh - okay. Yeah, alright.

“Good. Great.” Jimmy cleared his throat and straightened his back. “Okay. I can start the spell, if you like, and I’ll let you try and follow along. And if you don’t get it the first time I can stop and we can try again. Alright?”

Tango nodded, schooling his expression.

“Totally. I got this.”

Jimmy just smiled. He closed his eyes, focussing inward and drawing on his magic, just as he normally did for any other spell. Curious, antsy, a little distractible but ultimately comfortable - it felt the same as ever. In a repeat of the last time they’d been sitting like this, Jimmy reached out with his magic, the energy of it buzzing just below his skin. He pushed it gently outward, seeking, reaching - and he wasn’t even a little surprised this time when he felt Tango’s magic dancing forward to meet him in the middle.

Across from him, Tango’s breath caught, and then he chuckled giddily.

“I feel that,” he breathed, his words all smiles, and Jimmy grinned to himself.

“Yeah?” He kept his energy steady, wanting to let Tango find his way on his own. “D’you think you can make your magic listen to you?”

“Listen - what, listen to me? What are you, Yoda? Use the force or whatever?”

Jimmy snorted, prying open one eye to see Tango’s face screwed up in close-eyed concentration.

“Basically.” He let his eye fall shut. “Your fire comes from the same place. Right? So - maybe think about what that feels like. Yeah? Try an’ reach for that. Just - without the fire, please.”

“No burnification. Got it.”

Jimmy bit back another laugh, his shoulders silently shaking. Gods, he’d never had to fight back giggles like this when casting a spell. This was ridiculous.

It was fun.

Something in the mingling mixture of their magic jolted, and Jimmy heard Tango let out a victorious little laugh.

“Hah! That! That was good, right?? I did - well I think I did something!”

“Yeah, you did!” Jimmy agreed. “D’you think you can maintain it? Like - hold that connection?”

“I think so, yeah–”

And he could. He could, and Jimmy could sense it, the way some of the eager chaos in Tango’s untamed magic lessened to a degree, became more focused. More sure. It wasn’t perfect by any means, and Tango definitely had a long way to go, but it was a start. Jimmy hadn’t expected him to pick it up so quickly, in truth. He had expected it to take longer to ease into the basics. But he seemed to be doing better than Jimmy had hoped…a natural talent, perhaps.

So Jimmy began to guide him, waiting to see how well Tango would follow. He wove his own magic in concentrated spirals around their joined hands, and Tango did his best to keep up. Small jolts and stutters interrupted his movements, uncertainty making his magic lose form a few times, but he was still following all the same. It was something. It was a start.

A numb, tingling chill danced across Jimmy’s palms where the scrapes and scratches sat, tickling at his skin and making him shiver. But it felt right, how a healing spell was meant to feel. It was slow, to be sure, but it was right.

“You’re doing amazing, Tango,” he grinned, peeking one eye open again to see the way Tango’s face reddened under the praise. His hair was aglow again the way it had been earlier, illuminated from within by something other than flames.

“I’m trying,” he muttered. He seemed too focused for many other words.

“Just a little more, then we can stop.”

Just a little more.

Just a little–

Tango’s magic leapt, excitable and unpracticed, and Jimmy heard him let out a frustrated snarl. He was quick to let his own energy flow forward to help, soothing sparking edges and coaxing him back on track. At this point, the cool healing tingle in his palms had crept up his wrists, up his arms, and it was only now that Jimmy was paying attention that he noticed just how far the spell had migrated. Either Tango was stronger than he knew, or he was pushing himself too hard.

“D’you think you can ease up a bit?” Jimmy asked, and Tango’s hands twitched against Jimmy’s.

“I - maybe?”

“Do you want me to help?”

“...yeah. Yeah, please. Sorry man, I’m not–”

“No worries! You’re new. ‘S okay.”

He did as he’d offered, taking a breath and doing his best to reign in the runaway magic. He’d done things like this before, to an extent, when cursed objects or magical artifacts went a bit haywire. It was a bit different when trying to do the same for a living mage.

Tango’s magic was wiley, unpredictable - but it wasn’t malicious. Where Jimmy reached out with his own magic to try and control the situation, Tango’s would rush up to meet him, curious and eager and excitable, just like its caster. It would move with him, trail after him, almost looking for attention the way Jimmy’s magic sometimes did when he hadn’t used it in a while. It was actually becoming a little difficult to differentiate between what was his own magic and what was Tango’s, the energies mixing and melding and blending and–

A burst of magical energy rushed through Jimmy quicker than he could contain it, sending him reeling, knocking the wind from him. It coursed through his veins and sparked behind his eyes and sent tingles to the ends of his limbs and a warmth through his chest, his back, his wings, aches soothing before he could remember they were there, soothing the bruise at the edge of his core that had been bothering him since–

What?

No.

No, this was - this couldn’t - they hadn’t even–

STOP.

Jimmy gasped sharply and yanked his hands away from Tango’s, scrambling back across the blanket and gulping down air like a man starved, his chest heaving and his pulse racing and his wings -

…his wings…healed. Healed. Tango had - unless he was crazy, unless…unless he wasn’t…

“Jimmy-?”

Jimmy tugged weakly at the bandages still wound around his chest, too tight, too tight now that he was struggling to breathe. And there was a burning feeling, burning but not painful, right in the center of his chest, like fire, like hearth, like familiarity, like home, like–

Hands were on him in an instant and the burn subsided as quickly as it had come, suddenly calmed like the eye of a storm.

“What’d I do?” a panicked voice was asking, pleading, almost desperate, right above him. “Shit, shit, I didn’t - Jimmy? Jimmy, are you okay?”

Jimmy dragged himself to some sense of awareness, trying to orient himself, becoming a little more aware of the glowing form above him. Tango’s panicking face swam into view and Jimmy latched onto that, trying to keep himself focussed on the red of his eyes, on the glow of his freckles, on - on something, on details, on–

“T-Tight,” he choked out, wheezing, tugging at the bandages again. “Help–”

“You want - Jimmy, wait, no, your wing, remember? You can’t–”

Jimmy let out a frustrated, wheezed chirp, digging his fingers into the material, tugging despite his current lack of coordination. Tango grabbed at his wrist to catch him before he could do much else.

“Woah, okay, okay! Hold on…”

Tango scrambled for something at his waist - the knife, Jimmy realized - and he took rapid care in digging the blade into the wrapped cotton, slicing through it without catching Jimmy’s clothes. The second he was free, Jimmy’s chest heaved, air rushing into his lungs more easily than before. His “broken” wing - still bound to itself, though no longer to his chest - wasn’t even the slightest bit bothered by the sudden movement, and he was beginning to suspect more and more that he and Tango had managed to do something extraordinary without even trying to.

More than one extraordinary thing, perhaps, though he wasn’t quite ready to focus on that yet.

For now, Jimmy curled forward and rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyes hard enough to see stars beneath his eyelids, and he breathed, and he forced his magic to settle. It proved to be a more difficult feat than he wished it was, magical energy still buzzing away just below the surface of his skin, refusing to quiet and refusing to calm. He was also acutely aware of the warm hand gripping his shoulder, the comfort of it grounding and distracting all at once.

“...better?” Tango asked, sounding nervous, and Jimmy nodded against his hands.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

There was quiet, awkward quiet, for a beat or two. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before, and Jimmy almost wanted to blame himself for it. He should have picked a different spell.

Tango cleared his throat and pulled away, leaving space between them that Jimmy could feel, and the moment Tango’s hand left his shoulder something inside him seized. That burn in his chest was back, all-encompassing, unignorable, distracting and alien and familiar and–

Jimmy reached out before he could stop himself, grabbing Tango’s wrist without needing to see it and letting out a shaking sigh of relief when his core settled again upon contact.

Shit.

Shit.

Void below, they were screwed.

“What was that?” Tango asked shakily, and Jimmy was finally able to focus on him properly.

Tango looked properly spooked, his face pale and his brows furrowed in confusion and his ears pinned back and his eyes wide. His other hand was clutching at his chest, and Jimmy couldn’t blame him, not if he’d felt the same thing Jimmy had, not when Tango was so new to all of this.

Jimmy swallowed past the lump in his throat, past the building panic that was welling in his lungs.

“That,” he said on a hoarse breath, “would be a fresh magebond.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

If Jimmy had a choice, he’d be pacing right now. He wanted to keep moving, to work out the antsy anxiety in his veins, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because every time he let go of Tango, that feeling in his chest would come back tenfold and he couldn’t think straight. So instead, he was sitting in front of the fire again with his knees drawn to his chest and Tango behind him, one hand resting on Tango’s outstretched leg while warm, nimble fingers slowly unwrapped the bandages from Jimmy’s wing.

It had healed after all, it seemed. A task Jimmy had deemed “difficult” and “impossible”...and they’d managed to do it anyway.

And even more impossibly, they’d formed a magebond on top of it all.

“I’m sorry,” Tango had tried to say, as if any of the blame was his, but Jimmy had been quick to banish the thought.

“It’s not your fault,” he’d insisted. “You’re a novice. Even a trained witch couldn’t’ve done this by mistake.”

Tango hadn’t looked fully convinced, but Jimmy’s sincerity and quiet confidence in Tango’s blamelessness seemed to help diminish his fears well enough.

(Though Jimmy had half a mind to believe Tango’s gentle care in unwrapping his wing was meant to act as the apology Jimmy had refused to accept. Apology or not, he was grateful for Tango’s help.)

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Jimmy was saying now, trying to explain to Tango what had happened but finding himself somewhat unable. “Magebonds don’t form this way. There’s a ritual. It takes effort to find the right balance between two people’s magic for a more permanent connection to form, not - not just–”

“Silly magic fun times in the woods?”

Jimmy choked on a laugh, his wings fluffing up and his face flushing, and Tango snickered behind him.

“Yeah. Yes. Sure. That.” He took a breath, burying his face against his knees. “This isn’t how it’s meant to work. I’ve had bonds before. I took odd jobs for witches when I was younger, and those…”

They hadn’t been like this. They were purely for work, with a low level of magical compatibility and very little emotional investment. Forming those bonds hadn’t left much of an aftereffect, and when they broke at the end of their respective contracts, Jimmy had only ever needed a day or two for his core to get used to being untethered again. And then he’d taken the job with Scott, and - well. Scott was different.

“Who’s Scott?”

Jimmy jolted, his wing jerking in Tango’s hands, and he shot a wide-eyed look back over his shoulder at the startled-looking netherborn.

“What?”

“You said ‘Scott was different’,” Tango told him. “Who’s Scott?”

Oh. Had he? Gods. He had. He could feel it on his tongue. Jimmy dragged his eyes back around to stare unseeingly into the fire, chewing on his lip. He hadn’t so much as said Scott’s name more than a handful of times since leaving the cottage, not after that first month back with Grian and Martyn, anyhow. Saying it now felt hollow, slightly aching, just a little bit sore and a little bit familiar. He licked his lips, knowing Tango was awaiting an answer.

“Scott was, er…” He cleared his throat. “He was my last magebound witch. We - um. We were together. For a while.”

“Bad history?” Tango guessed, and when Jimmy managed a jerky nod, Tango hissed in sympathy. “Ouch. Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it.”

Jimmy let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. For all that Tango had been kind to him tonight, he wasn’t sure he was quite ready to broach that subject just yet. Especially not with a stranger.

A stranger who you’re now bound to, he reminded himself, and he had to bite his lip to stop himself from reacting.

“Thanks,” he managed instead, “I’d rather not.”

“Totally.”

Jimmy rolled his shoulders and let his unencumbered wing stretch leisurely toward the fire, watching the way the light reflected off his not-quite-pristine feathers. Preening didn’t feel like quite as big of an issue now as it had that afternoon.

“...the bond felt different, is all,” he ended up carrying on in a murmur. “With…him. The ones I took on for jobs didn’t feel like much of anything, but with him we were, ah - a good match. Magically,” he quickly specified. “Compatible energy. So after our bond formed, we had a hard time staying separated for too long.”

“Like this?” Tango asked, curious. “Like what we’ve got goin’ on?”

“Yes.” A beat. “No. Sort of. It’s not–” Jimmy huffed.

He felt Tango pull the last of his bandages away so he stretched out his wings, letting the cramped muscles on the left one get a nice break before tucking them close again and turning on the spot to face Tango. They were closer than Jimmy had realized, the red freckles across Tango’s cheeks suddenly very noticeable with their proximity. Jimmy went a bit pink and inched backwards, doing his best to keep a point of casual contact all the while. Eventually, Tango reached out and grabbed his hand, holding on tight now that his own hands were no longer occupied by feathers and bandage wraps.

“Erm.” Jimmy cleared his throat. “Well. It’s stronger.”

“Stronger?” Tango asked, seemingly unbothered by how close they’d been for however briefly it lasted.

“Yes.” Jimmy tucked his legs under him, cross-legged, as he carried on. “It was only a bit of a pull, last time. Like I really wanted to be close, and my magic wanted to be close, but I could handle being away from him. This time, it’s–” Jimmy felt his face warm, his feathers puffing behind his shoulders and his hand tightening in Tango’s. “When we separate, it’s horribly distracting. Like the only thing that can help is getting my magical energy as close to yours as possible.”

Tango blinked at him.

“Is that not, uh…normal?”

“Not for me.” Jimmy dropped his eyes to their joined hands, his brow furrowed and his thoughts whirling. “We bonded by accident. It was too easy. We didn’t need a ritual, or an incantation, or a - a channeling artifact, or anything. And it’s so strong that I can’t let go of you without getting lightheaded. I’ve never–” He let out a twittering sigh. “I’ve only ever heard of this kind of thing in fairy tales. It’s ridiculous.”

“Fairy tales, huh?” Tango prodded, and when Jimmy dragged his worried eyes upward, Tango was grinning that cheeky grin of his. “So - what, does that make me your Prince Charming?” He waggled his eyebrows and Jimmy spluttered out a laugh, ducking away from Tango’s smile and shaking his head.

“Oh my gosh - Tango!” he stifled a giggle with his hand. “No, I meant - old mage fairy tales. Stories about that perfect match. The one person in the world whose magic was a twin to yours. You know, soulmates.”

Tango’s eyes went wide and wonder-filled, curiosity making his grin brighten and his ears perk up.

“Wait, soulmates?” he repeated. “Is that a real thing?”

“Well I don’t know!” Jimmy let out another little hysterical laugh. “They’re stories, aren’t they?” His giggling subsided but his smile still lingered, his eyes dropping to their joined hands again. Soulmates. He shook his head, trailing his thumb over the back of Tango’s hand absentmindedly. “...I used to hope soulmates were real,” he said after a moment. “A part of me still wants to. It sounds so nice, being able to find someone who can be your perfect magical balance. It’s hard to find a good bond match, let alone a great one.”

And yet, here’s you.

Jimmy felt eyes on him. When he looked up, Tango was watching him with a soft expression on his face, something undefined in his eyes that blinked away the moment Jimmy caught him watching. Tango sniffed and squeezed Jimmy’s hand, his tail flicking across the ground behind him.

“What do we do about this?” he asked, shaking their joined hands lightly. “Do you want to undo it?”

Something in Jimmy’s heart screamed NO! at the simple question, though he couldn’t quite fathom why. He barely knew Tango as it was. Outwardly he merely shook his head.

“We can’t yet,” he said softly. “It’s too fresh, and too strong. If we tried to break it so soon we’d both end up hurt.”

“Ah.” Tango winced. He cast a glance back over his shoulder, then raised their hands up to eye level. “Well how long d’you think we need to stick together like this?”

Oh, gods. And this was the part Jimmy hadn’t yet allowed himself to focus on. He smiled weakly.

“Constant contact? Overnight, I’d bet.” He scratched at his jaw awkwardly. “Sorry. Er - if it helps, it shouldn’t be as bad tomorrow?”

Tango let their hands fall with a cheerful sort of shrug, not a hint of irritation in sight.

“It’s all good,” he grinned. “I don’t exactly have anywhere I need to be tomorrow, do you?”

And - well. No. Jimmy really, really didn’t. He shook his head slowly.

“I’ve got a room at the inn back in town for the next week,” he said. “Not that I’m going back tonight at this point, mind you, but I’d planned to be out here a while.”

“Well that’s settled then!”

Tango clambered to his feet, still holding tight to Jimmy’s hand, and Jimmy let out a startled chirp as he was hauled bodily off the ground. Tango was stronger than he looked, a fact that was still settling in his thoughts as Tango tugged him intently toward the cave entrance.

“Uhhhh - what’s settled?” Jimmy asked, tucking his wings in close so they wouldn’t catch on a passing tree.

“You can stick around here for as long as you want to!” Tango declared, a grin in his words that Jimmy didn’t need to see to hear. “I’ve got plenty of blankets an’ food, and I can grab some more supplies from town in a few days–” He paused and shot Jimmy a sheepish smile. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Something beneath Jimmy’s ribcage fluttered at the offer, something warm and pleased and content.

“More than okay,” he nodded quickly. “That sounds amazing. You’re too nice, Tango, honestly–”

“Nah,” Tango waved him off, ducking just inside the cave and smirking toward the darkness. “It’s a fair trade-off for some pleasant company. Uh - here, hang on–”

There was a brush of something soft and warm against Jimmy’s wrist and he blinked, realizing belatedly what Tango was doing. The blazeborn’s tail had come up to coil comfortably around Jimmy’s wrist as a means to free his hands, the blond tuft of fluff at the end tickling against Jimmy’s skin. He huffed out a soft, amused chuckle, shaking his head at Tango’s silly ingenuity. Flickering flames illuminated the darkened space - flames fueled by Tango’s magic, which left Jimmy shivering at the familiar sensation of a spell through the bond - and when Tango turned around, a lantern in his hand, the light it cast caused Jimmy to stop short.

The cave was more expansive than Jimmy had first assumed. It wasn’t unending by any means, but the space inside was roomier than the small entrance would have implied. A cozy-looking cot piled high with blankets was pushed up against one wall, a large travel pack was dropped against another, and a small and slightly messy heap of clothing had been shoved toward the back of the cave. It was warm too, a lovely change from the chill of the evening air outside, and Jimmy’s wings relaxed against his back as the warmth seeped into his feathers.

“Welcome to Casa de la Tek!” Tango announced with exaggerated grandeur, grinning all the while. “It ain’t much but it’s home, for now. I was gonna move on in a few days now that the ravager kiddos are a bit stronger, but - hey, I don’t mind stickin’ around a little longer.”

“It’s cozy,” Jimmy said brightly. “How’d you find this place?”

“I’ve been around these woods before,” Tango said. He waved it off, beckoning Jimmy closer was a tug of his tail so he could fuss with the blankets on the cot. His blaze rods hovered nearby as though attempting to offer him some additional light to see by. “My old crew used to get jobs in the area all the time. I still do. There’s a larger cave about - oh, half a day’s walk to the north?” He gestured vaguely in that direction. “That’s my next stop, since it takes longer to get there when I’m herding the big fellas.”

“And what if there’s no caves nearby?”

Tango flashed Jimmy a grin.

“Well then I get to camp out under the stars.” He straightened, planting his hands on his hips. “Okay! I think I’ve got us sorted. Do you get cold easily?”

“Uh–” Jimmy blinked at the quick segue, then shook his head. “Not really. If I don’t have my wings out I can get chilly, but I like keeping them out. I’ll be alright with whatever blankets you don’t need.”

“With whatever - what?” Tango snorted. “No, I was gonna–” He jerked his thumb back at the cot with a sheepish grin. “I don’t mind cuddling if you don’t. We’ve gotta stay in contact anyway, right?”

Jimmy, who had mentally been planning on tying their wrists together between the cot and the floor for the night, gaped at the man who - until that afternoon - had been nothing but a stranger to him. Since that point, Tango had not only become more of a friend than Jimmy had anticipated, but had also been kind enough to be gentle when Jimmy had trusted him with his wing, provided a meal and safety without any prompting, and had forged a (surprisingly strong) magebond with him as well. All in one day.

And now he was offering to share his bed.

For all that Jimmy was a bit flustered at the prospect of sharing a bed with a perfect stranger, he also couldn’t deny that the offer was tempting. It would be warmer and more comfortable than the floor by far. And Tango had been a perfect gentleman the entire night. Hadn’t he?

He also wasn’t wrong. They did have to stay in constant contact, and Tango’s idea was an easy solution. Jimmy took a slow breath and made his decision.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his face feeling warm. “It’s your bed.”

“Uh-huh,” Tango smirked. “And I’m okay with sharing.”

Okay. Well. Alright then.

“I - yeah. Yes. I’m okay with that.”

“Awesome!”

As Tango had said, that settled that.

  It wasn’t nearly as awkward as Jimmy had suspected it would be either. There was a little jostling and maneuvering while they tried to accommodate Jimmy’s wings, but once they found a comfortable position, it all just sort of…clicked, and settled into place. Tango was sprawled on his back as close to the cave wall as he could get, his boots and vest abandoned on the floor, and Jimmy had done the same with his shoes and overshirt before getting comfortable on his side. One of his wings was trailing loosely off the bed, brushing the cool stone below, and the other had found its place draped over the both of them.

(Being a netherborn, apparently, meant Tango got cold easily, so he was grateful for the added warmth. No wonder there were so many blankets on the cot.)

At first, Jimmy had tried to keep as much of himself to his side of the bed as he could manage…but that hadn’t lasted long. It felt so natural to be curled close to Tango - a fact that he couldn’t be sure was related to the fresh bond or not - and soon enough their legs had become overlapped beneath the covers and Jimmy had a hand lingering over Tango’s heart.

Over his pulse, where Jimmy could feel it synchronizing with his own.

Magebonds this strong weren’t a thing to be taken lightly. He couldn’t help wondering if he’d have the strength to break it down the line.

(He couldn’t help wondering if he’d even want to anymore by then.)

“Hey, Jimmy?”

Tango’s whisper in the dark caught Jimmy’s ears and the feathers there flared. His eyes eased open to see Tango’s face turned toward his. They were so very close.

“Yeah?”

Tango grinned, a sleepy sort of thing.

“I’m kinda glad my ravager found you,” he said, quiet and teasing yet wholly genuine. “This magic stuff’s kinda nuts, but I’m glad you’re here anyway. It’s been a bit lonely the last few months. You’re–” Tango yawned, his eyes crinkling and warm barely-there sparks fizzling across his hair. The glow from the blaze rods hovering dimly above them rose and fell with a wave of gentle warmth. “...you’re…good people. Thanks for stickin’ around.”

Technically, Jimmy thought sleepily, he didn’t have much choice in the matter…but he knew what Tango meant. For some reason he had a feeling he would’ve lingered even if the bond hadn’t been forged. A sleepy warbling coo slipped past his lips and he sighed.

“I think I’m glad your ravager found me too.”

Tango’s grin widened, dopey and bright, and Jimmy let his eyes drift shut.

Like a fairy tale, his sleepy mind supplied. Soulmates, huh? Maybe he should ask Grian about that when he got home…whenever that ended up being.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As barely-awake awareness drew him to the land of the living, Tango crinkled his nose at having been woken up at all. He had never been a morning person, in truth. And for some reason he was even more disgruntled this morning in particular. The cot was colder than it had been during the night, and something in his chest was tugging at him to go - to go - do something. Go be…somewhere. Find something.

Tango grumbled and rolled over, burying his face in his pillows and letting his tail droop off the side of the bed.

He didn’t wanna do anything most mornings, so having some unnamed urge to do just that was…odd. It was strange. It was this curling, fuzzy little feeling in his chest, fluttering and almost feathery, right where Jimmy had said his core–

Jimmy. Jimmy!

Tango bolted upright at the sudden influx of memories from the day before and he scrambled to his feet - or he tried to. Instead, his legs became tangled in the mountain of blankets he’d been sleeping under and he ended up sprawling gracelessly and unceremoniously to the floor with a distinctly inhuman, strangled shout of alarm.

“...ouch.”

Well, good morning to you too, floor.

It didn’t do much to stop him, because it was only moments later that he was half-hopping to the cave’s entrance, fighting to get his boots on as he did so. He couldn’t see Jimmy. Tango squinted across the clearing, his ears flicking around to catch whatever sounds he could…but the massive golden wings that would’ve been so easy to spot were nowhere to be seen.

Weird. Jimmy had said he’d be sticking around, so why–

A twittering trill from overhead caught Tango’s eye, and he watched curiously as a tiny golden bird soared into the clearing, gracefully fluttering down to land on the blanket he and Jimmy hadn’t put away the night before. Tango eyed the little guy curiously for only a moment as it ruffled its feathers back into place. He was just about to look away to keep searching for his temporary camping buddy when a sudden golden glow began to emanate from the bird. The light grew, shifted, changed in shape - and between one blink and the next, the bird had been replaced by Jimmy, wings and all, with a windswept ruffle to his hair. He laughed brightly in the morning sunlight, a sort of immeasurable joy lighting up his face…and Tango couldn’t help but watch. He looked so happy, so free.

“I’ve had a bit of trouble with my familiar transformations lately,” Jimmy had said, only the night before. And yet…

“Well whaddaya know,” Tango murmured, leaning back against the cliff face beside the cave’s entrance with a soft smile. He watched Jimmy get to his feet and go over to the firewood, dragging some back to the pit and arranging it into the messiest campfire setup Tango had probably ever seen. He snorted. Oh, this guy was not a camper, was he? Tango cupped his hands around his mouth and raised his voice. “Hey, Feathers!”

Jimmy jolted, his wings puffing up in alarm - which Tango was beginning to find endlessly endearing the more it happened - and he turned around, his expression brightening when his eyes fell on his magebound.

(That was the terminology, right? Magebound…? It sounded right.)

“Tango!” He greeted, waving slightly. “Morning! I was just–” He gestured to the fire pit, then the log pile, then the kettle sitting off to the side, then brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “...I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Tango laughed, bright and raspy.

“Need a hand?” he offered, his eyes crinkling with his smile, and the look of relief that swept over Jimmy at the offer was palpable.

“Please.” His smile grew lopsided. “Maybe you can teach me something this time.”

Tango’s smile brightened to a grin and that spot in his chest he was beginning to associate with Jimmy warmed ever-so-slightly. Yeah. Yeah, he could do that. And if Jimmy was willing to stick around for even longer, then maybe Tango could learn a bit more about this whole magebond thing in return, before they broke it.

If they broke it.

As he crouched down beside Jimmy, straightening logs and branches and guiding him through building a proper fire, watching as Jimmy stuck his tongue out to focus, Tango quietly hoped that maybe they wouldn’t have to break it so soon. Or maybe, if Jimmy was willing, maybe they wouldn’t have to break it at all.

Yeah. Yeah, that sounded pretty nice to him.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[A/N: I can't tell you how much fun I had bringing this story to life! Magic systems have always been a fascination of mine, and the one for this universe - hah. If anyone is curious I'd be willing to go into a deeper explanation about how magebonds work and what the witch/familiar dynamic normally is, but at this point it's more important to know that it's a stand-in for the Double Life soulbond with a more by-choice twist. This whole AU concept started with Ren and Martyn, believe it or not, and one day I'd like to tell their story too. But we'll see where it goes! I have a lot of scattered and intricate ideas for this universe, and I think I'll play it by ear to see where my inspiration takes me.

As for our ranchers, I feel like their first meeting would've felt out of character if it hadn't involved a bit of chaos and a bit of clumsiness lol. Where in canon Tango was the one to bring them together by losing them their first life, I thought it would only be fitting for him to be the reason he and Jimmy meet here too in some similarly accident-prone way…though I do feel a bit bad that it was Jimmy who got the brunt of it instead of Tango this time. 😋 It's okay! Everything turned out for the better anyway! Many MANY thanks to Hybbat, Lemon_bread, and Automaticnerdbread for being my lovely betas over the past few months (especially Hybs, you know how many times I've popped into your inbox for Rancher insight lmao) - y'all have been amazing!

Oh! We also had a pair of really cool character sheets from Fantasykiri that didn't really have a place in the fic proper, so I feel like I should share them here in the endnotes instead! Be sure the check out all the artists who contributed their skills and talents to this story, and thanks so much for reading! Comments and critiques (and spelling corrections asjkbas) are always accepted!]

[The artists: @fantasykiri5 [Trapped] [Jimmy] [Tango], @joifee [Feathers], @aviomons [Magic], and @setacin [Campire]

[likeadevils]

Reputation Timeline

This is a very long post that puts all the songs on Reputation in order of Taylor creating them. I’ve also included a few other songs she worked on while writing rep and quotes from Taylor and her collaborators talking about her process.

If you don't want to read all that, check out this playlist of the album in order or this playlist of her entire discography.

I’ve also added this color coded scale of how sure I am of the date: 

Confirmed: There is some type of official source for the date

Inferring: Nobody has officially said “This is when we wrote it,” but all available evidence points to that date

Speculation: This date is based off pure vibes and guesswork and is highly likely to change.

Unknown: All that is known is the year (from the US Copyright Offices

February 13, 2015: Taylor's interview with Vogue is published (likely conducted on January 14/15).

"I don’t worry that I haven’t started the next record yet. I don’t worry that I don’t know what it’s going to be. I’m not worried that I have absolutely no timetable as to when it needs to be done. It could be two years from now; it could be three, it could be four. Or it could be one. You get these bursts of inspiration right at the moment you’re not expecting to. You just have to live your life, and hopefully you’ll take the right risks."

March 2, 2015: Taylor is photographed leaving a studio. (Note: I can not find a place that specifies if this is a recording studio, dance, photography, radio, or television studio).

May 20, 2015: Taylor's interview with Marie Claire is published (likely conducted two months beforehand).

Taylor is not even sure she'll have made another album by the time 2020 rolls around. "I'm not going to put out an album until I've made one that's better than this one and that's going to be really hard," she says. And how might her music evolve if she does find love? "If that does happen, I think I could find complexity in happiness," she says. "I don't think anything's ever simple. Just because you're happy in a relationship doesn't mean there aren't moments of confusion or frustration or loneliness or sadness. Hopefully, if I ever find some sort of meaningful relationship, I'll be able to still find inspiration, just through everyday ups and downs."

October 7, 2015: Taylor is photographed leaving a recording studio in New York.

November 13, 2015: Taylor's interview with Vogue Australia is published (likely conducted two months beforehand).

Every two years since 2006 she has released an album, followed by a tour, then moved onto the next one. But her latest album, 1989, might change plans a bit. “This album has produced more number ones than any album in the past, so we’re just going to go with it,” she says, going on to explain how the usual album cycle could be extended. “Then I’ll feel like I’ll need to give people a breather from me because at a certain point they’re going to get a little sick of hearing about me, so I’ll need to go away for a while then, depending on my gauge on how sick of me they are, I’ll decide when to put out the next album.” [...]  “I’ve been learning every single day what the right amount of sharing [of her personal life] is, and lately it’s been not natural because this album is such a snapshot of my life – it was so vivid, direct and honest.”

April 20, 2016: Taylor interview with Vogue is published (conducted in February).

So what the hell are you going to do with the rest of your life, Taylor Swift? “I have no idea,” she says, with a sigh that’s more blissful than anxious. “This is the first time in ten years that I haven’t known. I just decided that after the past year, with all of the unbelievable things that happened . . . I decided I was going to live my life a little bit without the pressure on myself to create something.” Do not freak: Swift is not abandoning making music. Those who know her know this is chemically impossible. (“Her not being creative is one of the last things I’d ever worry about,” the musician and producer Jack Antonoff tells me later.) “I’m always going to be writing songs,” Swift says. “The thing is, with me, I could very well come up with three things in the next two weeks and then jump back into the studio, and all of a sudden the next record is started. That’s an option, too.” But probably not for the moment.

August 29, 2016: Taylor writes in her diary "This summer is the apocalypse."

Gorgeous: Sep. 1-5, 16, 17, 19 (Confirmed)

In the Making of a Song video, Taylor is seen wearing this outfit in her Nashville apartment, which dates the song to September 17. From there, the rest of the dates are just math. 

King of My Heart: Sep. 6, 19, 20, 21 (Confirmed)

In the Making of a Song video, Taylor is seen wearing the same outfit in the Gorgeous video and the KOMH video. It's also the same outfit as a video she later posted to The Swift Life (RIP) where she talked about how excited she was to be working after a long break.

September 9, 2016: Gigi Hadid says "You know, [Taylor] is starting to go back to work in the studio again."

I Don't Wanna Live Forever: Early Oct. (Speculation)

In a teaser for the Making of a Song series, Taylor is seen in an unfamiliar outfit (black mesh top) with bleached hair and a thin gold choker that she was fond of in October 2016. She is not wearing her silver J pendant, which she got as a 27th birthday present (Dec 13, 2016). IDWLF is the only song with no video footage that was written in 2016. I don't recognize the studio in the clip, but she recorded IDWLF with Jack Antonoff, who is based in New York. Taylor was on the east coast until October 22nd, and was seen in New York between October 11-13.

Delicate: Oct. 24-26 (Speculation)

Taylor is seen wearing the aforementioned thin gold choker,  with her post Sep. 24 haircut (straight across bangs instead of a side part). Since she normally goes into the studio with Max Martin and Shellback with a few ideas, and creates multiple songs during their sessions, I'm inclined to group this song with IDSB and place it in late October.

I Did Something Bad: Oct. 14, 27 (Confirmed)

In the Making of a Song video, at 4:18 you can spot a gold temporary tattoo on the inside of her wrist, similar to ones she was wore at Drake’s Birthday Party on October 23. Since she is seen working until sundown (She leaves LA on October 28) and had to be in Nashville 13 days priar (She was seen in New York City until the 13), October 14 and 27th are the only dates that make sense. 

January 3, 2017: Taylor writes in her diary "I get all scared about the future because so much has changed in the last year of my life. I mean this time last year I was living in LA, getting ready for Grammys and now, I’m essentially based in London, hiding out trying to protect us from the nasty world that just wants to ruin things. We have been together and no one has found out for 3 months now. I want it to stay that way because I don’t want anything about this to change or become too complicated or intruded upon. But it’s senseless to worry about someday not being happy when I am happy now. Ok. Breathe."

Don't Blame Me: Jan. 10, 11, 12 (Inferring)

Taylor is seen wearing a similar jacket as she was papped wearing on the 11th in the Making of a Song video. (This is pure speculation on my part, but the mood also seems to be a bit lower than on other days). We know she was in LA around this time “for work.”

Dancing With Our Hands Tied: Jan. 11 (Confirmed)

This post explains the situation pretty well. There are multiple accounts of what seems to be a similar story. January 11th one of two times she is seen leaving the gym after a long paparazzi dry spell, the other being in July. Seeing as the song is produced by Max Martin, who is located in LA, and the July pictures are in New York, I’m inclined to agree with the original source.

Dress: Late January/Early February 2017 (Speculation)

Jack Antonoff: “Dress is my second favorite [from Reputation]. It's the first one we made for it." Taylor was mostly based in London in early 2017, but there’s two times we know she was in the states. The first is in early January, when Taylor was in California working with Max Martin and Shellback. The second time is in late January/early February, when she was in Nashville preparing for Super Saturday Night. My guess is this was written in Late January, mostly because she was on the east coast, but theoretically she could've done it earlier in the month, or even later in the year.

Look What You Made Me Do: Late January/Early February 2017 (Speculation)

In promos for the Making of a Song Video, as well as in Miss Americana, Taylor is seen with straight hair and her J initial necklace (dating the song to post-Dec 13, 2016). Her hairstyle (the deep side part) is very Mid-2016. For most of 2017, she seems to favor the straight across braids with strands on the side. Long story short (ha), the hair makes me what to put this as early in the timeline as possible. We know Taylor was on the east coast (specifically Nashville) in early February, preparing for Super Saturday Night.

New Years Day: 2017 (Unknown)

There isn’t any footage of this, but Jack Antonoff has said that it came together fairly quickly and unexpectedly while they were hanging out at his house. 

...Ready For It?: May 2017 (Speculation)

In promos for the Making of a Song series, as well as Miss Americana, Taylor is seen with curly hair, her J necklace, and not her Sapphire Evil Eye Ring, which starts showing up on June 27th (We don’t know exactly when or why she got the sapphire ring). . Since the song partially focuses on whether or not her lover is ready for the media frenzy that surrounds dating her, I’m inclined to place this song in May, when her and Joe’s relationship leaked to the press. The song was recorded in Sweden, and we can assume she was in Europe between May 15 and June 1, 2017. (That being said, we can assume she is in Europe for most of the first half of 2017). 

Call It What You Want: June 2017 (Speculation)

In the Making of a Song series, Taylor is seen with straight hair, her J necklace, and not her sapphire evil eye ring. Once again, I am tempted to put this after her relationship leaked to the press, probably in early June (She is in the states on the 1st and 3rd, and probably leaves sometime in mid-June).

End Game: Mid July (Confirmed)

Ed Sheeran has said that the song was written around July 14th, while he was playing in Connecticut and Taylor was in Rhode island. Ed: End Game was written - I was playing Mohegan Sun in Connecticut, and she has a place in Rhode Island, which isn't too far. So she hits me up like, 'I know you're in Connecticut, come around.' I go around, she plays me some of what turned out to be reputation, and plays me this End Game, and I was like 'Man, I really like this. Can I do a verse? Can I do a rap verse?' And she was like, 'Yeah, for sure!' So the next day, I remember, I was in bed, and woke up and got my laptop out, put the song, just looped it, wrote this verse, and I went in with Max Martin, who she did the song with, and recorded it. Then Future did a verse, and then Taylor wrote a verse and we did the video.

Getaway Car: July 2017 (Speculation)

In the Making of a Song series, Taylor is seen with curly hair, her J necklace, and her sapphire evil eye ring, placing the song sometime shortly before/after June 27th. We know she was in the states for most of July, and in New York City on the 17th and 24th.

This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things: July 2017 (Speculation)

In the Making of a Song series, Taylor is seen with straight hair, her J necklace, and her sapphire evil eye ring. For all the same reasons as Getaway Car, this song was probably recorded in July. The exact order of Getaway Car and TIWWCHNT is probably impossible for anyone not involved in the making of the song to know. I could see arguments for either order, but Taylor has said that reputation is in fairly chronological order, I’m putting it in order of tracklist.

So It Goes: September 2017 (Inferring)

Oscar Görres, a cowritter on the song, said he got a call from Max Martin, Shellback, and Taylor asking to use his track after he’d just had a child. According to social media, he had a daughter in 2015 and a son in September of 2017. The interview is a bit confusing, timeline-wise. On one had, Görres says “I’d just become a father,” but then he implies that Max and Shellback had already completed most of the album. (For context, English isn’t his first language). Personally, I believe the believe the September 2017 date. Multiple sessioners have said Taylor said all songs on the album were about her relationship with Joe, and the tracklists in the reputation magazines are out of order, suggesting a late change. Taylor has has also been known to add a song to the album incredibly last minute— most notably Forever & Always on Fearless, but also with Death By A Thousand Cuts on Lover, which had to have been written post April 20, 2019 (but that's for another album).

And that's all for this timeline! Check out my others:

TIMELINES: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights PLAYLISTS: debut • fearless • speak now • red • 1989 • rep • lover • folklore • evermore • midnights • entire discography GENERAL: tag

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (November 26-December 2, 2023)

I wasn't over the moon when Toho announced that Takashi Yamazaki's Blockbuster Monster Movie was in fact the next Godzilla film. I had seen a few of his works—none bad, but none spectacular either. Well, I've set my sights on watching the rest in the new year, because Godzilla Minus One is an unqualified masterpiece. A tagline from the original Godzilla, King of the Monsters! comes to mind (as it often does when you're me): "Mightiest melodrama of them all!" A lot of the post-Showa films suffer from an abundance of characters who just spout exposition and look at monitors; here, almost everyone in the small cast gets at least one close encounter with Godzilla, and the monster's backstory is conveyed with extreme efficiency. This tale of a war veteran trying to rebuild his life in the ruins of Tokyo, stumbling into a family, finding fulfillment in blowing up leftover mines, and haunted by what he perceives as his cowardice in combat, would have been plenty compelling without Godzilla.

Since it does have Godzilla, it's high on my list of the best movies of the year, and I only need one viewing to call it one of the best installments in the almost-70-year-old series. Yamazaki patiently waited some 15 years after Always: Sunset on Third Street 2 for his shot at a Godzilla feature. You certainly get the sense, watching one of the most brutal, pissed-off incarnations of the monster ever to grace the screen, that he spent every day of it in preparation. Watch it often while it's still in theaters, and watch it big.

Godzilla Minus One will gross about $10 million in its U.S. opening "weekend", a third-place finish that beat expectations. For context, Godzilla 2000, the last Toho Godzilla film to receive a wide release here, made about $10 million during its entire theatrical run here. Ticket prices were cheaper then, of course, and Minus One was helped along further by almost half of attendees going to premium-format screenings. Conversely, it had to overcome Americans' subtitle phobia, and the first weekend of December is usually a slow one. I was pessimistic at the outset, but now I expect larger theaters to carry the film into the new year, especially with near-universal raves from critics and audiences.

Yes, a third section for Godzilla Minus One; it's well-deserved, I promise. MyKaiju is risking life and limb by hosting an English translation of the film's novelization, written by Takashi Yamazaki himself. It appears to be at least partially machine-translated, but the Japanese text is included for comparison. Haven't read it yet, as I want to see the film a second time first, but quite a breakthrough given how mysterious this sort of thing usually is.

Monarch: Legacy of Monsters could never hope to compare with the opening of a stellar new Godzilla film; unfortunately, I also thought this week's episode was the weakest so far. It's bookended by Frost-Vark action, but the rest just drags. All's forgiven if the teacher and the hacker smooch though.

Toho and Legendary used to let each other's live-action Godzilla movies breathe; now the U.S. opening weekend of one is coinciding with the opening marketing push of the other. IGN released a trio of pics from Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire, showing Kong with his axe; Dr. Andrews, Jia, and Trapper (Dan Stevens's character) in uniform; and Godzilla "evolving into a powerful new form." The same article included an interview with director Adam Wingard. Naturally, he didn't give away much... besides the return of Doug.

Earlier in the week, Legendary put out a trio of posters featuring Godzilla, Kong, and the film's antagonist, now christened Skar King. The taglines ("Unite" for our heroes, "Bow to Your King" for SK) sound like kaiju campaign slogans. Makes me wonder if, like Godzilla vs. Megalon before it, the movie will improbably capitalize on the presidential election next year. To steal a joke from Titanollante: Godzilla/Kong unity ticket? They'd have my vote.

Godzilla's new form, meanwhile, has already been spoiled by a T-shirt on Legendary's own site and some dire-looking Playmates figures. It makes sense that Wingard would want to have his own spin on the character after keeping the design from Godzilla: King of the Monsters for Godzilla vs. Kong. Hard to cast judgment without seeing the real design in full, but there's one particular detail I really like.

The film also has a booth at CCXP in Brazil, with a panel later today, so I think a trailer is incoming (the main reason I hammered out this whole post so quickly).

I missed this one last week: Tsuburaya announced an anime project called Ultraman: DARKNESS HEELS. The DARKNESS HEELS branding has been around for a while, spotlighting prominent evil Ultras—and, of course, Jugglus Juggler. No details on the anime yet, but if the Juggleman's there, so am I.

The big toy reveal this weekend was Super7's ULTIMATES! MaiGoji figure. Previous Godzilla figures from this line haven't lived up to the official photos, but hope springs eternal. It's $85 (much less than the MonsterArts); preorders started Friday. Other highlights: a Super7 ReAction figure of the original Godzilla's skeleton, which comes with a little Oxygen Destroyer, and a plush Mothra from Surreal Entertainment that can flip to imago form to a neck pillow-shaped larva.