#Hunter {Birds Of A Feather} {IC}

[chaosmultiverse]

“Ugh, my head. What happened to us?” (for Luz or Hunter)

"I'm not sure Caption, last I remember we were making head way though the forest, then a flash and then we were here." Hunter gustered to the stoney basement around them.

[cevansbrat0007]

Off the Market

Summary: Ari learns that you're not the sharing type. Which is fine by him, because neither is he.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Jealous/Possessive Reader, Oral Sex (mentioned), Discussions of Public Sex, Mentions of Disordered Eating, Polite Fat Shaming, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: This story is part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Be sure to check out the follow-up fic, A Man Starved. Not beta'd. Not beta'd. All mistakes my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

“So?” You ask before taking another sip of your milkshake. The thick and creamy treat goes down easy, which makes the amount of time it took to get to you well worth it. “What’s the verdict?”

“Not bad.” Your companion mumbles as he eagerly gulps down his own shake. “Not bad at all. But just so we’re clear, drinkin’ one of these isn’t gonna get you out of our deal.” He stirs the drink with his straw before plucking out the cherry and popping it in his mouth. “Remember you swore on it.” He holds up his pinky finger as a reminder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sugar.” You tell him as a smile flits its way across your lips. Without thinking, you go to feed him your own cherry. You find yourself giggling at the way he playfully nips at your fingers, his tongue lapping at the traces of whipped cream. 

There went your big Beast of a man proudly living up to his nickname, as per usual. Thank goodness you were the only couple dining outside today.

“Hey. How come yours tastes better?” Ari pouts suddenly, sending you into another fit of giggles.

“We got the exact same thing, honey.” You roll your eyes at him before returning your attention to the menu in your hand.

“Bird?” His growl comes out soft and silky. And it immediately has you on high alert. Because you recognized that tone. 

It meant you were in trouble.

“Um, yes?” You try ducking your head behind the oversized, laminated piece of paper. Maybe if he couldn’t see you anymore, he’d just let it ride.

“Did you just do what I think you just did?” 

“Well, I suppose that depends on what you think I just did.” You sneak another sip of your chocolate shake, doing your best to forget about all the extra unnecessary calories you’re putting into your body right then. After all, you and your man had a deal. And you aimed to see it through. 

“I think you just rolled your eyes at me.” Ari rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward on his arms in an attempt to get your attention. “Now, just because I gave you a pass back the boutique–”

You blow out an annoyed breath. “That wasn’t my fault! You kept making me model the most ridiculous pieces for you, even when I knew they wouldn’t fit.” You peek out from behind your menu long enough to scan the area for Stella, your waitress. Of course she’s nowhere to be found. 

Which, oddly enough, was fine by you. There was just something about the woman that seemed to ruffle your feathers a bit. Although you couldn’t quite put your finger on the reason why. 

“Except they did fit.” Your bounty hunter surprises you by yanking the menu from your grasp. He then tosses both yours and his onto a nearby empty table. “And maybe if you would’ve allowed me into the fitting room with you earlier, we could’ve scored you another bathing suit. I still think we should go back for that sweet little black and white number. That ass was made for it.”

“It was too small. Just like the other ones.” You counter, feeling your cheeks heat at the intimate praise. The burn only intensifies when you recall the way he’d simply let himself into the fitting room after you’d vetoed your third bathing suit. It had been his pick, which meant he felt that he was well within his rights to, as he put it, “see for himself”.  

One Hour Earlier

“Baby.” He said, chuckling softly. “If a woman expects a man to wait outside and do it patiently, then perhaps she ought to give him a little show.” When you balked he’d simply shrugged and picked up an ice blue monokini before handing it over to you, silently demanding that you try it on. With him right there in the flippin’ fitting room. 

And he hadn’t felt the least bit compelled to help preserve your modesty by looking away as you’d changed. Instead, he’d had the gall to take a seat in a chair that was tucked away in a corner.

“This is completely inappropriate!” You hissed, clutching the forgotten suit to your chest. “Wh–what if someone comes by?” 

“Then I expect you’ll have to be quiet then, won’t you?” He held a finger to his lips, playfully shushing you. “That way it stays our little secret. Now, how about you model the pink one for me?”

“I’ll model whatever you want once we get back to your place.” You tried, your entire body had been practically vibrating with embarrassment. 

“Nah. I’m afraid that ain’t gonna work for me.” Ari had leaned back in his chair then, leisurely crossing his long legs over his ankles. “See, this Beast of yours is itchin’ for some instant gratification.” He’d locked his fingers together before resting them on his firm stomach. “And I ain’t leavin’ until I get it.”

“Guess we’ll be in here for a long time then, huh?” You’d responded rather snippily. “Because I’m not about to–”  

“You know, sweetheart, now that I’m thinking about it, I just realized you haven’t fed me yet today.” 

“I thought we were gonna grab a bite after..?” The knowing look that passed between you two had been enough to make you feel weak in the knees. “Umm...”

“You know how I get when you make me go too long without a taste.” His piercing blue eyes had dropped to your (thankfully) still panty clad pussy. “I’m gonna need a fix, baby. And soon.” You’d watched him cup his impressive cock through the fabric of his jeans. “Otherwise I might start gettin’ antsy.” The silky purr of his voice alone had been enough to have your thighs clenching.

“Don’t – ooh! Behave yourself, damn you!” You’d done your best to ignore the way your core had spasmed with need. “There will be no funny business in this fitting room. You are not getting us kicked out of this store, Beast!”  

“But I’m hungry now. Starving actually.” He’d pressed, a wolfish grin spreading across his features. “And all I can think about is sinking to my knees and burying my face in that gorgeous pussy. Right here. Right now.” 

You'd watched as he rose from his seat, his big body crowding your smaller one. “Wanna taste all that sweet, wild honey of yours when you cum on my tongue like a good girl.” You’d also squealed none-too-quietly when he pinned you against the wall. 

And although the man had seen fit to warn you of his plan, you still hadn’t been prepared for his boldness. Even less so when he dropped to his knees in front of you, his nimble fingers tugging at the edges of your panties.

“Ari…” You'd breathed, rising on your toes to graze your lips along his bearded jaw. “We can’t. Not here. Patience, sugar.”

“Like I told you, I’m about out.” He’d responded on the heels of a groan. “But I might be able to find some more. Maybe. But only if…”

“If what?”

“If you stay the night once we get back to Bell’s Creek. I wanna spend the rest of the evening getting all tangled up in you. Especially after I managed to work up such a sweet tooth.” Ari had brushed mouth over your covered mound, loving the way your nipples pebbled at his words - his touch.        

“I accept your terms.” You’d told him with a soft giggle as heat suffused your cheeks. “Now let me go so I can model these last few for you. It’s about time we get a move-on to our next stop -- no more kisses. Oh God, Ari! Be patient!”

“I’m not trying on another thing after I stuff my face, honey.” You mumble as you take another sip of your drink. “We’ll just have to come back another time. Plus, you’ve already spent more than enough on me.” 

“You’re worth it.” 

“You should’ve at least let me pay for half.” You start to protest, feeling uncomfortable with being doted on in such a way.

“Already said no. And you ain’t payin’ for lunch either, so you’d best not get that pretty mouth all twisted up to ask.” 

“How about we–” You find your conversation interrupted by the arrival of your waitress, Stella. 

“Hey, ya’ll!” She chirps as she comes around the corner, her blonde ponytail bouncing behind her as she finally makes her way to your table. “Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. How are those shakes treating you, hm? Pretty good?”

“They’re great.” You and Ari respond at the same time. 

“I just knew you’d love ‘em!” She responds rather animatedly, her freshly manicured fingers lightly brushing over Ari’s shoulder. He doesn’t seem to notice. But you do. Because it’s not the first time it’s happened. “Looks like you’re doin’ alright over there, handsome. Can I get you another one?”  

“No, thank you.” Your Bounty Hunter hums, his gaze locked on the menu as he works to make a final decision. “But I do think we’re ready to order.” 

“Yep.” You readily agree, even as your eye twitches. “We sure are.” 

Stella makes an innocent show of turning away from you, her gaze focused on Ari. “I bet a big, strapping fella like you would be interested in one of our steaks. Our beef is grass-fed and sourced locally. Which means it’s always fresh, never frozen.”

“Actually, I think we’re both gonna have–” You attempt to interject, only to be shut down without so much as a glance in your direction. 

“Did you happen to see our line of Skinny Gal Salads, buttercup? They come with all the flavor, but only half the calories. They’re listed on page two if you wanna take a gander while I walk your lovely friend here through tonight’s specials featuring our signature porterhouse.” 

Your waitress’ audacity hits you so hard you almost feel a headache coming on as an unexpected fury burns in your belly. A belly that could probably stand to benefit from one of those so-called Skinny Gal salads, but then again that would go against the deal you’d made last night.

Which involved you and your man enjoying a couple of worry-free milkshakes and bacon cheeseburgers. You’d promised that you would try to relax and not get so caught up in all of that internal calorie counting like you usually did.

So, like it or not, a deal was a deal and you aimed to see it through. Regardless of what your waitress had to say about it. And if the woman was smart, she’d take her hand off your man’s arm before something happened to it.

“Now handsome, did I hear you say you were visiting from Bell’s Creek?” Your waitress cocks her hip against the table while she ignores you in favor of cozying up to your Beast. “Because it just so happens that I have a friend there that I like to visit from time to time. Do you happen to know–” 

“Actually, I’ve heard amazing things about your barnyard cheeseburgers. So I think we’re gonna have two of those with bacon. Extra bacon. Please.” You tack on the last word, which is spoken through gritted teeth. 

Finally, Stella turns to you and offers a patronizing smile. “Can I interest you in a side salad with that, buttercup? It comes with a spritz of our homemade red wine vinaigrette.”

Ari sits back in silence, apparently content to watch whatever the fuck was transpiring between you and this bottle blonde heifer with a notepad. Which was fine. You were a big girl who knew how to take-up for herself when the situation called for it.    

“I want fries, sugarplum. But who knows, my friend might want one of those skinny ass salads to go with his meal. Does that sound good to you, baby?” While your eyes never leave hers, you manage to catch a glimpse of a smile from your companion. 

“I, uh, would also like fries.” He coughs. You can tell he’s trying not to laugh, which only serves to piss you off even more. “But thank you.”

“That’ll be all, honey.” You politely growl, snatching Ari’s menu from him before your waitress could use it as an excuse to touch him again. “We’ll let you know if you need anything else.”

“But you haven’t heard the specials.” Stella turns back to Ari, a soft pout gracing her plump lips. “It just might change your mind. You might find yourself wanting something…better.”

Oh, no the fuck she did not. Your man was fine with his choice. You. The burger. All of it. Be gone, bitch!  

“We’re good.” You snap, seething inwardly. “You couldn’t possibly have anything more special than what he’s already got goin’ on in front of him, right here. Right now.”

Your waitress stares you down, but you refuse to be the one to blink first. If your eyes gave up and fell out, you had faith Ari would collect them for you before safely guiding you home. Your man was a gentleman like that.

“I guess I’ll go ahead and get these orders in. Two burgers, heavy bacon, coming right up.” The smile she gives you now is much more brittle and it doesn’t meet her eyes. But you also can’t bring yourself to give a fuck.

This woman needed to remember to stay in her lane before you ran her off the road.         

“Thanks.” 

“Welcome.”

And then she’s gone. You find your glaring at her retreating form. You’re actually in the middle of fantasizing about what would happen if you took a pair of scissors to her annoying ass ponytail when you hear your name being called.

“What?” You snarl as Ari comes back into focus. And what the hell was he grinning about? Didn’t he realize that that pretty face of his was in slapping distance?

“You’re really something, baby.” He murmurs, his gorgeous blue eyes dancing with mischief. “You know that?”

“Meaning?” At the moment, you were in no mood for anyone else’s bullshit.

Ari leans forward in his chair as one of his big hands comes to rest atop yours. “I just meant…I’ve never seen you jealous before. It just surprised me a little is all.” He finishes with a shrug. “I didn’t expect for you to…to…”

“Didn’t expect for me to do what, Beast?” Your tone softens as you watch his head dip, his bearded cheeks tinged with red. He perks up when you give his hand an affectionate squeeze, flipping your positions slightly so you can lace your fingers through his. 

“Claim me.” 

Those two simple words are enough to send you reeling. Is that really what you had just done?

“It’s no secret that I like you, Bird. A lot.” His voice drops an octave as he works to explain himself. “Every time I see you, it’s like there’s something in me deep down inside me that screams mine. I guess I wasn’t sure if you felt the same way about me. Until now.” 

Was he being serious? Of course he was! This man had never struck you as the type to joke about any of this.

“I like you too, Ari. But what I didn’t like was watching our waitress flirt with you like I wasn’t even here. I almost fucked her up with my spoon for touching what’s mine.” Ari’s perfect teeth sink into his plush bottom lip, his nostril’s flaring as his mind works to process your admission.

“Say that again.” The command rumbles out from somewhere deep in his chest, compelling you to obey. “Louder”

“You’re mine, Ari Levinson. For today. Tomorrow. For however long this magical thing between us lasts – you belong to me.” You breathe, butterflies filling your belly. “You’re officially off the market, you got that?”

“I hear you, Bird. Loud and fucking clear.” The grin on his face soon proves to be infectious. “And you have no idea just how happy I am to hear you say that.” Ari opens his arms to you then, beckoning you forward.

The next thing you know, you’re up and moving before you’ve even registered what’s happening. All you knew was that your man needed you. Which meant you needed to go to him. Now.

“I always want you, Ari. Even when I shouldn’t.” You tell him as you gracefully slide into his lap, looping your arms around his neck as you do. 

“I know the feeling.” Ari murmurs, brushing his mouth over yours. “Which is why I want to do something special once we get back to Bell’s Creek. Before I have to leave again.” The startled look on your face has your Bounty Hunter rushing to finish his thoughts before you can verbalize your confusion.

“What do you–?”

“I’m only gonna be gone a few days, baby. Three, maybe four, tops.” One of his large, slightly calloused palms presses against the back of your neck, drawing you in closer to him so that he can take your lips again.   

“Oh.” Comes your lame reply.

“I’m coming back to you, Bird.” Ari rests his forehead against yours as you try to calm your racing heart. “You have my word. But I still wanna do something special for you – for us – before I go. Will you let me do that without a fight?”

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” Feeling content, Ari leans in to capture your mouth with his own once again. After behaving himself all day, it was time for his reward.

“Wait.” You place your hand on his chest, halting his advances. “You’re still mine wherever you go. I don’t care if it’s fucking Siberia.” You grab a fistful of his shirt, hauling him forward. “You’ll still be mine there too. You with me?”

“Fuck yeah I am.” Ari growls, using both of hands to cradle your face as he slants his lips over yours once again. The kiss is as passionate as it is raw. Your tongues dance together, both fighting for dominance. But this time your Beast lets you win.

Desire burns in your belly as you savor the sensual victory. You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging at the chestnut strands. Meanwhile, one of Ari’s hands goes to grip your hip, making you moan when he gently molds and kneads your curves. 

Jesus Christ! You suddenly felt as if you were wearing too many clothes. 

His lips skim along the column of your throat as you pant. You were always so fucking needy for him all the time. It made it almost impossible for you to resist him during moments like these.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t even bother to look up when you hear footsteps approaching. “Will these be separate checks or…oh.” You hear your waitress stammer as she tries to collect herself. “I’ll, um - I'll just bring the one.”

Ari briefly pulls away, eliciting a soft whine from you. “Thanks. And while you're at it, we’ll be taking our food to-go.” 

“Bye, Stella.” You giggle as you give a little wave before playfully nipping at his jaw, not even bothering to glance over at the other woman’s face. You knew it was petty, but staking your claim on this man in front of your so-called rival felt so damn good. Especially after a day like today.

Frankly, the only way it could get any better was if you could make yourself utter those three magic words – the same ones you’d been practicing in the mirror last night. But right now they simply wouldn't come. They kept getting stuck in your throat.

Oh well. Guess you’d just have to try again tomorrow.

END

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[little-noko]

Snow owls is the bird associated with quebec so I had to make it the main bird line~ TBH I didn't want to make another Ice type bird considering it's what I did for the Ohayo region but I decided to make the ice type the primary type for this line instead of flying.

#016 Fitzit | Ice/Flying Type The Snow Ball Pokemon

Fitzit may look like birds, but hey are mainly made of ice, whenever their body starts to melt they love to roll around snow to build their body back up. #017 Lookit| Ice/Flying Type  The snow owl Pokemon

When two fitzit are big enough they stack together to make Lookit, they are incredibly good at camouflaging themselves in snow areal by remaining still. From afar, they look like snowman. Despite looking fat, they have actually very long legs.

#018 Styxmore| Ice/Flying Type   The snow owl Pokemon

When two lookit are big enough, they stack together to make Styxmore. It is said that whenever one of their ice feathers fall off on the snow a new fitzit is born. They are silent hunter that camouflage themselves within snowing area.

Art & Kehbek region© @little-noko

[z-socks]

He Soars

*banging my fists, chanting: winged Clones winged Clones winged Clones Crosshair-centric, some mild body horror when discussing Echo because Techno Union. Also the Empire being assholes. Season 2 spoilers (The Outpost).

Crosshair had always hated his wings. They were large, dark, laborious things, with rough feathers that had cut him more than once until he learned to keep them away from his body. The copious, smothering down choked him in the night, suffocating him with heat and irritating fuzz down the back of his throat. 

The Regs all had the same wings: something akin to the shriek hawks of their Template’s home. They were shiny, patterned in golden hues like the Clones’ eyes and shaped and sized to be useful in battle. 

Clone Force 99 did not have the wings of the Regs. Hunter's were slim and cut, rounded with specialized feathers that made his approaches from the air lethally silent. Tech's were scooped and agile, designed for soaring and diving sharply while in flight. Wrecker’s were the only wings comparable to Crosshair's in size. But they were pure white with imposing flight feathers and capable of being beat with deadly force. 

Crosshair's wings were useless. 

A sniper with wings impossible to hide was not a very useful asset. So he learned early on how to make them work for him. He learned to stick to shadows and use them to hide, to lash out a wing and cut down a droid, to let his brothers crush his suffocating down by curling against him when the endless stretches of space got cold. 

And then came Kaller and the order and the girl. 

His brothers left. 

The Empire deemed the Clones’ wings an annoyance. Their size was hard and expensive to accommodate for in their standardized barracks. Their down clogged the life support filters. And their feathers’ rustling impeded on the other troopers’ sleep. 

A suggestion to have them removed was met with a counterpoint. Why spend the money on surgery? Just remove the Clones. 

Cross watched Regs disappear from the ranks. His eyes catching the way their wings sagged, unstretched and unflown, atrophying in the grip of the new Empire. His own wings felt heavier these days, causing him to haunch over from their weight. 

He was one of six Clones sent to Barton-IV to retrieve a shipment that had been held there. His squad ran into his wings on purpose, complaining under their breath about having no room on the transport and how he should be with the other beasts. 

Cross shrugged it off. 

It was far from the first time he’d been likened to a monster. 

Clone Commander Mayday’s wings were the second worst pair Crosshair had ever seen, only beat out by Echo’s when they’d rescued him from Anaxes: nearly bald, half blown off, and bent wrong from being stuffed into a stasis chamber with no room for them. The smell of decaying feathers had emanated from the corporal. And Mayday and his brothers had the same stench. 

Their feathers were molting, ragged as they clung on by sickly quills. Strips of fabric like that on their armor were looped and tied to fill in the bare spots. Even their color looked faded but Cross wasn’t sure if that had more to do with the dim light provided by the coilheater. 

“What’s your name?” he asked Crosshair, the first person in too many cycles to do so. Cross hesitated. But this was a dead man walking, giving him a name that would likely die on his tongue within a tenday was harmless enough. 

“Crosshair.” 

The Reg nodded. “Follow me.” 

They inspected their meager equipment. Mayday showed him all that was broken. 

A large shadow passed overhead. The call of a monstrous bird. 

“Ice vulture,” Mayday informed, eyeing Crosshair. “Vicious creatures. But you have to admire them. They find a way to survive.” 

Then came the raid. Their hunt. The ice cave. 

“No sense carrying dead weight.” 

Mayday hummed. “'Less you need to to survive.” 

Crosshair shot him a puzzled look. 

“Them vultures carry dead weight all the time.” He shrugged. "Gotta eat."

The mine. The raiders. The avalanche. 

“Mayday.” His voice nearly broke as he dug the commander out of the snow. He’d lost more feathers in the onslaught, fresh skin exposed and bleeding on the patches left behind. 

The climb was excruciating. The wind sliced through them. 

When they finally found enough of an outcropping to shelter behind, Cross folded his wings around them, for once, grateful for the excessive down. The rough feathers kept the snow and ice from building up. Their size big enough to protect them both from the blistering winds. 

“I remember you, you know,” Mayday whispered against his neck. “The clone with the big black wings.” He huffed a choked off laugh. “Mean little thing. But I knew better. I’d seen you fly.”

A memory came forward, fuzzy, hazy in the whiteout snow. The training room on Kamino had been tall enough to allow them to practice aerial maneuvers. Crosshair’s monstrous wings had never fit in the crowded space with the Regs. But late at night, he’d sneak out to fly.

“The command cadet.” 

He remembered now, getting caught one night by an older cadet in red. But the cadet had let him off easy, saying lightly that it was past bedtime. Cross had waited to be punished for sneaking out. But the CC cadet had merely left the training room to continue his assigned patrols. 

“Bet you’d never dream this be how you found out ya belong here,” Mayday murmured, huddled in close to Crosshair, buried deep into the soft down of his wings. 

Cross quietly inquired what he meant but Mayday had lost consciousness once more. 

The storm stopped with the sunrise. An Ice Vulture circled overhead.

The climb was no less difficult. And Mayday’s exhaustion meant Cross was walking for them both. He used his wings, flapping them to help propel their steps. 

It felt… good. Like he was made for this.

His wings had room, could stretch fully. The wind ran through his down and along his sharp flight feathers. It caught them occasionally, beckoned them to fly. 

They reached the outpost. They collapsed and Crosshair begged for help. 

The Lieutenant refused. 

Mayday was going to die. 

The shot. The chaos that followed. 

But he was made for this. 

He took out some of the troopers and command first, single shots. He was a sniper after all, even from the ground instead of in his nest. The Clones charged him and he switched it to stun. 

Good soldiers follow orders. He had. Mayday had. They had. And they were still considered dead weight. 

A stolen shuttle, Mayday hastily loaded in the back, the rest of the scattered imperials on their tail. 

But he was made for this. 

A sharp dive like that of scooped agile wings. A silent approach from behind like that of specialized feathers. A shot to their flank, percussive like beating pure white wings. 

They fell from the sky. 

He soared. 

[oblivions-dawn]

It's Time

HELLO. IT HAS BEEN . . . SOME TIME. No, I am not dead--just annoyingly busy, and that makes finding the motivation and inspiration to write increasingly . . . . difficult. Alas, 'tis no matter, because I've decided I'll share not only some of the next chapter, but also a bit of another project involving my Hagraven, a certain Daedric Prince, and perhaps a housecarl. No, not the one you're thinking of. As for the next chapter of Breathless . . . for those of you that are caught up, well . . . . . >:3c Let's just say I have plans. I was tagged by @thequeenofthewinter @hircines-hunter @umbracirrus and @bostoniangirl21 and in return I tag . . . @bougainvillea-and-saltwater @stormbeyondreality @fallen-chances and . . . YOU <3 Enjoy my nonsense hehe

            A lone bird of prey circled the skies of the Reach, high above the Druadach Mountains. Alarmed gazes followed its dark flight, curious fingers pointed at its monolithic shadow, hushed whispers warbled with dreadful recognition. Craichnithrenn, they called it—a creature unworthy to be crowned umacrann, like all other hagravens made matriarch. It was other; it was rotten; it was dangerous.

            The carrion soon tired of its graceful morning glide and plummeted towards the craggy lands below. Wings unfurled; taloned digits splayed to grasp the ground with ease. It ruffled and preened its beautiful ebony plumage—so black that it merely swallowed the rays of the sun—then stalked forward, a small unassuming hut nestled between the remnants of ancient stone ruins.

            The moment it crossed the threshold, its silhouette shifted; a guttural hiss gushed from its throat as its body elongated and expanded into a human shape—until, half-transformed, something snapped. A sharp wail cut through the air, and the creature collapsed to the floor.

            They were stuck, trapped between bird and mortal. Even to broken wings, flesh was a twisted and unforgiving cage, and they would not yield to the change so easily. Every raspy breath was a dagger that sank deeper into their chest, a thousand needles dancing across their feathered, puckered skin.

            “You poor thing.”

            Another breath—the pain dulled, then slowly trickled away. Bones shuddered and creaked back into place: wings became arms, the beak receded, feathers shrunk, legs lengthened. Clawed feet uncurled as long crooked fingers loosened their grip.

            Raeyla’szah lifted her head.

-----

            “Yeah, I think I’ve seen your lizard friend—near that creepy door, by the old ruins. It’s just off the road past Falkreath; you can’t miss it.”

            Vigdis lurked warily by the jagged rocks that formed the Black Door’s natural alcove. It wasn’t ideal; she was exposed to the misty rain of the gentle storm that brewed overhead, and the needles on the tall evergreens did nothing to shield her from it. Her sharp ice-blue eyes constantly scanned the dirt road, her ears strained to listen for any signs of life.

            Although she hadn’t been there long, her patience was already worn immeasurably thin, and she had half a mind to knock. Just as an aggravated sigh left her lips, she heard the door groan open. Low mumbles floated through the air, mingling with rustling armour and shuffling feet. The hunter shifted impatiently and drew closer in an attempt to discern the conversation—

            A twig snapped beneath her boot. The voices hushed; silence immediately enveloped the atmosphere. With an annoyed flare of her freckled nostrils, she stepped out—

            Only for the jagged edge of a dagger to press against her throat.

            “You’re either really brave,” a familiar voice hissed, “or really, really stupid.”

            Vigdis rolled her eyes at the thinly veiled threat, then turned her head. Tanzanite eyes widened instantly in bewildered recognition.

            “Viggy?”

            The hunter snarled. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

[theblackestnight-ffxiv]

[ffxivwrite2024] prompt 12: quarry

They were deep in the Dravanian Forelands by now. Stopping in Tailfeather had given them the opportunity to obtain provisions, but D’zinhla felt the need to supplement their food with fresh game. With the presence of so many hunters in Tailfeather, it might be a bit more of a challenge, but D’zinhla was confident in her ability to secure something, and firm in her decision to do it herself.

“And how are you going to fell a grouse with that spear, and leave enough meat behind to be worth it?” she asked the Azure Dragoon archly. 

Still, Lady Iceheart had insisted on accompanying her on her hunting foray, and she had to admit that it was probably wise to stay in groups. The Tailfeather hunters rarely went out alone, and even for someone of her skill level, the chances she could run into more trouble than she could handle were too high to ignore.

Hunting was no time for conversation, but something about the silence and short murmured directions seemed comfortable, rather than strained. Her companion was able to move without excessive noise, and D’zinhla had been skeptical that the Azure Dragoon, in his armor, would have been able to do the same. The brush here wasn’t especially dense, perhaps thanks to the strange trees that towered over them in this forest, but it still tried to catch at them, and required careful movement to pass through without making a production of it.

A couple of gamebirds were what D’zinhla was after, more than enough to stretch their supplies and let them carry on their preserved foods for longer. She’d swapped to bird arrows, which was another reason to have backup; a large predator, or, gods forbid, a dragon, wouldn’t find them terribly dissuading, made as they were to bring down much smaller game. 

“To the left,” she heard in a soft murmur, and she stopped still, looking carefully in the direction indicated. There was movement, but it was hard to discern if it was more than just the breeze on the leaves. Until- With an explosion of wingbeats, a large partridge rose out of the brush. D’zinhla’s bow followed, and she drew back and loosed the arrow. The shot missed the body, winging the bird and sending it tumbling down but still alive; she had a second arrow at the string and tried to nock it before the bird could get away, but then a sudden shard of ice coalesced and drove toward the bird’s body.

The partridge fell and lay still.

D’zinhla sucked in her breath, then nodded. “Very nice,” she said, lowering her bow and going to retrieve the bird. A swift check confirmed that it had been a death shot, the bird’s body cool around the place the ice-dart had pierced, and frost was melting on the feathers. She placed the bird in her gamebag, then looked to Lady Iceheart with an appreciative glance. “Good choice, that little ice-dart.”

“Just enough to finish the job,” the Elezen said in a low tone.

She nodded, trying not to let herself get caught in reading too much into that. “I’d rather like to get one more, but if our luck has run out, this one is large enough for all of us to have a fresh meat portion. A good hunt.”

Lady Iceheart nodded, a look of quiet satisfaction on her face. “Well then. Shall we try that luck?”

“Let’s,” she agreed, gesturing with her head off to the right. A bit deeper into the brush, further from this successful hunt; but hopefully not too far into the wilds to be foolhardy. Hopefully a second bird wouldn’t be far behind.

[victoriouszee]

Hammer Beak Bird

Conniving Cuckoo

Bird Wyvern

Element

None

Ailment

Fireblight(with fire herb)

Waterblight(with flowfern)

Iceblight(with snow herb)

Thunderblight(with thunderbug)

Dragonblight(with dragonfell berry)

Poison(with toadstool)

Blastblight(with bomberry)

Stun

Paralysis(with parashroom)

Sleep(with sleep herb)

Elemental Effectiveness

Fire⭐️⭐️

Water⭐️

Ice⭐️⭐️⭐️

Thunder⭐️⭐️

Dragon⭐️⭐️

Ailment Effectiveness

Poison⭐️⭐️⭐️

Blast⭐️⭐️⭐️

Stun⭐️

Paralysis⭐️⭐️

Sleep⭐️⭐️

Habitat

Jungles, forests and deserts with available oases

Diet

Scavenges for plants, fungi and insects

Physiology

A black raptorial Wyvern with colorful feathers and markings found in the males. These birds possess a throat pouch that serves a specific purpose, it stores a mix of different herbs, nuts, fungi and insects that it can use for medicinal and defensive purposes. By grinding and mixing certain items with its saliva and spitting it out, it can inflict ailments against any threatening adversaries, but it’s not immune to these ailments itself. If one were to hit its head with enough force while it’s grinding, the impact would force it to swallow whatever was in its mouth, which can be detrimental if it was grinding something like a parashroom or a bomberry. Hitting the pouch hard enough will force it to spit out all of the items it has stored. Even without its wide variety of ailment causing herbs its massive hammer like beak, usually used for digging up seeds and cracking hard shells of nuts, can bludgeon and crack the skulls of most monsters.

Behavior

While the females live in large groups along with their young, the males are mostly solitary, only entering these groups to mate.

These bird wyverns have a rudimentary understanding of the local herbs and bugs it collects, knowing the green herbs and bitterbugs can help with healing wounds and flushing out toxins, more experienced individuals are able to use a larger variety of items. Though not particularly aggressive, they can still become a nuisance, especially during the breeding season were they’ll engage in acts of mischief, such as spitting at any unsuspecting creature or hunter or spooking traveling merchants.

Carves

Low Rank

|

Cocka-Ya-Ku Scale

Cocka-Ya-Ku Hide

Cocka-Ya-Ku Plume

Cocka-Ya-Ku Heavybeak

High Rank

|

Cocka-Ya-Ku Scale+

Cocka-Ya-Ku Hide+

Cocka-Ya-Ku Plume+

Cocka-Ya-Ku Hammerbeak

Bird Wyvern Gem

Master/G Rank

|

Cocka-Ya-Ku Shard

Cocka-Ya-Ku Thickhide

Cocka-Ya-Ku Rainbow Feather

Giant Cocka-Ya-Ku Hammerbeak

Fey Wyvern Gem

Notes

Cocka-Ya-Ku at higher ranks use a larger variety of items, the G rank ones have access to dragonfell berries, might seeds and adamant seeds

[ladylilithprime]

Day 29: Blue

(Set in the Phoenix and Dragon 'verse, with established SaMichael and burgeoning CaSaMichael.)

SAM HAD NEVER seen Castiel's wings before the Apocalypse. To be fair, he had also never seen Michael's wings before then, either, but he had also had multiple occasions to see Michael's wings in the Cage as well as seeing them after their reunion and reconnection as mates. He had seen the scarlet and gold of healthy feathers turn dull, the blackened and damaged pinions from the hellfire that infused the Cage, the brittle brass and old blood of feathers caught up in Lucifer's ice, and the softer, sunset orange plumes that grew in when the dead and damaged feathers were gently plucked away.

Sam's own feathers weren't actually damaged, much to his private dismay. The seed grace from Michael, their bond and the extra that had been needed to patch his soul together in the Cage, had been hidden away when Death pulled him out, first by Death's wall, and then by Sam's own powerful will. The black tips and striping of the primaries were an entirely natural part of the feathers' coloration, an accent to the burgundy and crimson much the way Michael's feathers were edged in gold. It was also, Michael had assured him, the complete opposite of Lucifer's wings which, at their healthiest and most brilliant, had been a glittering crystalline white that slowly darkened into a deep pink, much like a flamingo. The striping, Michael said, was similar to Earth birds of prey, particularly owls, which suited Sam's nature as hunter and scholar with ties as strong to Earth as to Heaven.

Michael also confided that he found the clear markings of a predator in Sam's wings to be something of a turn-on, which made Sam feel a bit better about them.

Dean had taken the news that his brother had wings better than Sam had feared he would. He had definitely taken it better than he had the initial revelation that the reason Sam had been so skittish and standoffish around the newly-restored but depowered Michael had been because he was suddenly having to confront eons of suppressed memories of his and Michael's courtship amid their captivity with a petulant and vengeful Lucifer. Apparently being told that Michael had "quickly come to regret his initial harshness" was still a far cry from "became thoroughly enamored and spent several centuries attempting to woo Sam as a mate which was eventually accepted a good four centuries before Death came" and Dean felt unfairly blindsided. Compared to learning that his little brother who was already famous for having questionable taste in nonhuman lovers ("Thanks, Dean, really want to be reminded of my bad decisions during my self-destructive period.") was apparently shacking up with the Archangel who'd wanted to kill him ("I never wanted to kill Sam, I had simply resigned myself to his death being inevitable collateral to my having to kill Lucifer!") then finding out that the whole Archangel mate thing came with a shiny set of wings was about par for the course of weirdness in their lives.

"You're not gonna just fuck off to Heaven and the Angels and forget about hunting, right?"

"No, of course not!"

"Then just don't make me clean up shed feathers anywhere in the kitchen or communal spaces or the Impala and we're good."

"Um, about that...."

It had taken some hemming and hawing before Sam finally just reached behind his back and tugged a feather free, shoving the black-tipped crimson and burgundy feather at Dean with a disgruntled look and a direction not to ask uncomfortable questions, just... stash it in the glovebox of the Impala or something. Dean's incredulous and slightly suspicious question of if this was like Castiel sneaking a couple of black feathers into their duffle bags back during the Apocalypse had been met with surprise from Sam - he hadn't realized the feather was from Castiel, though knowing that made him glad that he'd stashed it in his laptop bag when he'd found it - and dismay from Michael because, "What do you mean 'black'?"

Michael, it turned out, hadn't properly seen Castiel's wings since before sending him and his garrison to harrow Hell for Dean's soul. He wouldn't say what color Castiel's wings had been other than "not black" and while Dean had pouted he'd chosen not to press, especially when Castiel had arrived and both Sam and Michael had clammed up in shock. Even repaired through the touch of Michael's restored Grace, whatever color Castiel's wings had been, they were most certainly black now. The bone structure was intact, but Sam could still see all the places where they had been broken or mangled in the way the feathers were bent, broken, ripped out and scarred... They had promptly folded close against his back when Castiel noticed both Sam and Michael standing there with their wings unbound and staring at him.

"The situation has been resolved, then?" he had asked politely. "Good. Michael, please understand that while I respect you as an Archangel and my commander, if you bring harm to Sam Winchester the likes of which you were visiting upon him when I first sought to free him from the Cage, I still have access to holy oil. Sam... I know that you are at least somewhat aware of what Michael suffered when he lost the last being that was nearly as close to him as you have become, so please be gentle with my brother and have patience with his inevitable missteps."

"Cas? Did... did you just give both our brothers the shovel talk?" Dean had demanded indignantly.

"I don't know what you mean," Castiel had deadpanned while a very touched and impressed Sam and Michael fought against giggles. "I said nothing at all about shovels."

THEY LEFT THE subject alone for weeks, as much out of respect for Castiel's personal boundaries as for the sheer amount of work they had to do. Ousting Lucifer from Heaven and taking control. Starting up the process required to create new Angels. Discovering that Gabriel was still alive and mounting a rescue against Asmodeus juiced up on stolen Archangel Grace. Helping Gabriel to recover from his ordeal, and then helping him hunt down Loki and his children in vengeance for selling him to the demon Prince as completely overblown "payback" for the Apocalypse. Tracking and capturing Lucifer.

The conversation had quickly turned to their next steps now that they had Michael back up to snuff and Sam's Grace reawakened, and the subject of Castiel's damaged wings had been left to lie for the time.

The eve before they were due to open the portal to the Apocalypse world where Lucifer had taken Mary and where Jack was currently trapped, Sam and Michael took a moment away from the dungeons where Lucifer was bound with warding glyphs that only Dean could bypass and went hunting for Castiel. They found him up on the roof of the Bunker, struggling to reach the back of one wing to get at a clump of tangled feathers.

"Castiel?" Michael called softly in a tone Sam usually only heard when they were alone. It helped firm his resolve when Castiel went still and seemed to hunch in on himself.

"Cas," he murmured, stepping up beside his mate and stretching out a hand. "If you don't want us, we'll understand, but... we're here and offering. Let us help?"

"I..." Castiel paused, his wings trembling. "You are a pair bond, one of the strongest I have ever seen. I do not wish to disrupt that for my own selfish desires...."

"And if your desires align with ours?" Michael asked, stretching out one of his hands in mirror to Sam. "You would not be able to come between us unless we put you there."

"And we do want you there, Cas," Sam added, meeting Castiel's eyes when the seraph turned hesitantly towards them. "We are willing to accept 'no' for an answer if you truly don't want this, but if your objection has anything to do with not feeling worthy, we're going to argue. I should warn you, Michael's had a lot of practice with arguing down my feelings of unworthiness, and you know how stubborn I can be."

"Winchester stubbornness is quite legendary, yes," Castiel said dryly, lips twitching when Sam and Michael both chuckled. The smile dropped as he lowered his eyes, carefully unfurling his wings and spreading them wide, angling the bent and broken tips of his primaries towards Sam and Michael and exposing the undersides to them in deference and supplication. "I will likely require further convincing and assurance that my presence with you both is truly welcome, but I am willing to allow your efforts to convince me... and I do need help with my wings rather badly."

"We would be honored to assist," Michael replied for them both, spreading his own wings in mimic of Castiel, and Sam hastened to copy him.

Barely a glance and gesture was needed before they converged on Castiel, Michael going to the rightmost wing while Sam took the left. Castiel ended up directly between them with one wing each from Sam and Michael folded together in front of him to let him lean forward and rest in their wings' embrace while they tended to his damaged feathers. Sam flexed his own Grace carefully with wiping away lingering traces of sulfur and soot as he stroked his fingers through the feathers, coaxing the dead and broken ones still clinging to release and come free. Michael passed him a small jar of salve to carefully spread over the scarring, easing the tightness there where the wing had bunched itself up and prevented new growth.

"You've some new feathers coming in already," Michael murmured after a while, shifting to point at the base of Castiel's wings when Sam craned his neck to see.

His breath caught.

No wonder Michael was so dismayed to hear these wings described as black, he thought, staring in wonder and the tiny, new-grown, bright sapphire blue feathers peaking through the darkness. He couldn't wait to see how amazing Castiel's wings were going to look when fully groomed and healed.

[yharnamcrow]

[A video. Eileen is facing Lysandre with her team. Behind her, the Yharnamites are trying to keep the children out of the line of fire.

"You are a fool if you think you could ever aim a weapon like this properly." Eileen's voice is sharp. "To siphon energy from a Great One of Death, to turn its power upon the world. Oh, Yharnam would have loved you." She flicks her hand, barks a command in a tongue Lysandre won't understand. Yharnam's tongue. Maria the Absol howls, razor sharp winds billow around her and set forth. "Coloration and an ego the size of any Cainhurst. Truly, I would have paid money to see the church mongrels set upon you."

"Your words make no sense," Lysandre bites out, decidedly unhappy with how his Pokémon are faring. "This world does not have the resources to cope with all these selfish humans. When there is only one of something, it cannot be shared." He retaliates Maria's attack with a strike of his Mienshao. "The only way to make sure that everyone can have everything is to reduce the living beings using these resources."

"What about Pokémon then?" Calem cries out, loud enough the camera catches his voice.

"Pokémon... Shall no longer exist."

"Bloodmad mongrel." Eileen's Pokémon strike out, Lysandre's fall one by one. "Let this be known. This too, is hunter's work. A Crow to purge the mad and bloodhungry, so that the world may breathe and sleep easy." Lysandre's Pyroar falls, unable to support itself an longer. The man's fists curl, and he looks to the side with a grimace.

"The strength to protect, huh? But what are you really protecting? A tomorrow that will only end up being worse than today? You are as strong as ever. But... It's too late. There is no hope for you now! Go below and see for yourself."

"You are a fool. You will not see morning. I will make sure of that." Eileen is quick to bold down the stairs, the others behind. She thoroughly ignores the admin and grunt, leaving them for the children and other hunters to clean up.

The inside of the chamber is ominous. Dark red light pulses from cables, and a gigantic cocoon rests between them, clearly connected to the cave wall and the machine above. The moment Eileen enters, the cocoon begins to stir, as if Death itself recognizes her, recognizing her ilk. It shakes. Stirs. And breathes back to life. Slate stone grey leaves in favor of feathers, impossibly tiny and many and too perfect to be true. Ice-blue eyes open for the first time in eight centuries, cold as death's embrace. Eileen knows it too well to mistake it for anything else. The bird is gigantic. A looming giant.

And that giant moves. Feathers of deepest sanguine, all too much like the red dripping from trick weapons, flare up with unholy light. Red like the countless Blood Moons Flora had wrought. It screams, the sound a thousand death rattles and dying screams made manifest, stretches. The wiring and machinery above rattle, shake. A localized earthquake on brittle foundations. Rock falls, breaks. Eileen's eyes widen. The children! She runs towards the entrance, waving her arms. They cannot enter!

"STAY OUT!" The rocks fall. Something impacts her temples. Not good. Not good. The world grows dark. The last thing she hears is several voices yelling.

"EILEEN!"

The video cuts out.]

[es46]

A mixture of bird archetypes, mainly terror birds, secretary birds, and peacocks. Tail feathers would be much more expansive. - Title - Corrosive ice bird Monster class - Bird wyvern Known locales - Nigh any environment Element/ailment - Dragon + Defence Down + Ice Elemental weakness - Fire (3), Thunder (1), Ice (0), Dragon (0), Water (0) Ailment weakness - Blast (3), Sleep (3), Paralysis (2), Stun (2), Poison (0) Valefirir Zevir is a bird wyvern that can survive in near any environment. Easily recognised by its surprisingly muscular stature and the iridescent blue-and-yellow sheen of its feathers, Valefirir Zevir boasts formidable strength in its heavyset beak and powerful legs. Built for crushing armoured prey, the bird wyvern's magnificent plumage belies its moment of viciousness. Roaming far and wide, Valefirir Zevir searches for its favoured prey of Bomboro, though it will gladly prey on most any other arthropod species it comes across. Defined as an insectivore (though of course just as dangerous to carapaceons and temnocerans), it is not known to attack other types of monster, though it can be aggressive whilst in pursuit of its preferred targets. Valefirir Zevir is not known to threaten humans, whom are deemed too small to be even a nuisance. While it can be docile, field workers are advised to keep their distance from the bird wyvern lest it perceive them as intruding on its search. Disguising oneself with a grassy mantle is a good way to dissuade its attention. The key to Valefirir Zevir's success lies in combining physical strength with deadly ailments. The bird wyvern can produce dragon energy, which charges its muscles to stiffen them, allowing it to deal stronger kicks and pecks. More dangerous still is the acidic chemicals produced by glands in its wings and tail. Using its specialised feathers, it spreads the acid as a mist, corroding the carapaces of its arthropod prey and making them easier to break. Should Valefirir Zevir grow enraged, it reveals another ability of its dragon energy; it will reduce its own temperature, activating cryo sacs in its torso that produces freezing residue. In this Frigid Form, it freezes its acids to create barriers before its dragon energy shatters them into corrosive shrapnel. Valefirir Zevir is exceptionally bold; it is unintimidated by most monsters and will even stay put if elder dragons of Teostra's standing appear in the area. Between its aggression, ailments and confidence, it is surprisingly effective at intimidating these creatures, even if it would not win an actual battle. When ready to mate, a male Valefirir Zevir will stockpile prey and set up a display area, hoping to attract the attention of passing females whilst repelling any rivals. If she is impressed, she will permit him to mate and then leave him to migrate to an isolated nesting site, where she will rear her brood- usually three or four hatchlings- until they are old enough to fend for themselves. Valefirir Zevir is a formidable monster that should not be challenged by low rank hunters except in the most exceptional circumstances (High Rank - 6, Master Rank - 4). With its exceptional abilities, the bird wyvern is uniquely dangerous and must be handled with extreme caution. Fire can weaken it in its Frigid Form, reducing the effectiveness of its attacks, and shock traps can stymie it. Aiming for the wings can damage its acid glands and impede its ability to fly. Boasting formidable strength and abilities, Valefirir Zevir easily surpasses most apex monsters in the environments it roams. It will even stand its ground against a fair amount of elder dragons, relying on its brazen displays to intimidate them. The nemesis of Bomboro and other arthropod species, Valefirir Zevir is usually uncontested in its predation. However, it struggles against the neopteran Xerraferrus, whose own viciousness is a match for the bird wyvern. - Thank you for reading and take care.

[pythonees]

EDITED: June 17th, 2024

The Naraj World building I have so far for the Feyd Rautha fic that is hopefully coming out soon.

Below the cut in case it gets long as I add to it.

• an ice planet with a short warm season (though one year on Naraj resemble two of Earths)

• the coldest part of the year, while still livable with the aid of their technology, is spent locked indoors, using saved up resources so to not risk the harsh weather

• "the Festival of Darkness, celebrating the 23 days of the eternal darkness and coldest time of the year. It's also the very brief season that glow moss, one of Naraj's most expensive trades, is in full bloom, bright blue spores floating through the air once they start to wilt

• the other, much larger planets in the solar system all continuously block out the sun for those days

• Prized furs are gathered at this time by hunters, the nocturnal animals highly active during this time. Predatory animals don't sleep during the three weeks, making their fur much easier to obtain than during the rest of the year.

• the mainland is high above sea level, which is what makes it so cold. That means that the oceans don't ever freeze over. During the endless night, all common families send out at least one able bodied person out on the ships for the duration, catching all kinds of sea life since the nets are much harder to see in the darkness.

• The most common wild animal by the manor (located at the top of a hill and surrounded by forest) is a bird that looks like a shoebill stork but bigger (think terror birds). They have feathers and fur. VERY good swimmers (webbed feet with massive talons) but cannot fly at all.

• the architecture is similar to Viking / old Nordic

• there are underground communities found throughout most cave systems, all of which connect to a surface town. Those living underground tend to be miners, weapon makers, and chemists. All water use by people on the surface come from the underground communities, as they are closest to the water/ and all factories/cleaning facilities are built in the caves

• the homeless population is well looked after, with many halls scattered through all towns and cities to house the less fortunate. There are rooms dedicated for families while there are dorm like accommodations for each sex.

• orphans are few and far between as adoption is fairly high on Naraj, though most orphanages can be found in the cave towns/cities.

• there are very few settlements at ocean level, as the land there isn't very flat, and is quite marshy in places. The abundance of moss growth is an irritant for most people, more common than lactose intolerance

[barkers-art]

I thought it would be fun to design some Paradox Pokemon based off the weird futuristic animals from the old docufiction miniseries The Future Is Wild. For those who don't know, TFIW is basically a speculative biology fanfiction that predicts what Earth's animals and ecosystems would look like millions of years from now. It's kinda silly, but I always thought that the animals in that series had some cool designs, so I thought it would be fun to make some futuristic Pokemon based off of them. :D (I might make some more after this, but I'm not sure yet.)

More info is below the cut.

Tundra Hunter (based off of the Snowstalker)

Type: Ice/Dark

Ability: Snow Cloak/Slush Rush (Hidden Ability)

Dex Entry 1: A descendant of Zangoose, this Pokemon has adapted to hunting in winter ice and snow in the far future. It is the apex predator of its natural environment.

Dex Entry 2: This descendant of Zangoose hunts in arctic tundra in the far future. Its thick, white coat provides it with camouflage in blizzards and winter storms.

Tundra Furball (based off of the Shagrat)

Type: Ice/Normal

Ability: Oblivious/Fur Coat/Thick Fat (Hidden Ability)

Dex Entry 1: A descendant of Pawmot, this Pokemon travels across futuristic tundra in search of grasses and cold-adapted shrubs to graze on. Its natural predator is the Tundra Hunter.

Dex Entry 2: This descendant of Pawmot has adapted to living in cold tundra in the far future. These Pokemon are very social and live in herds consisting of twelve or more individuals.

Running Razor (based off of the Carakiller)

Type: Fighting

Ability: Keen Eye/Run Away/Speed Boost (Hidden Ability)

Dex Entry 1: A descendant of Braviary, this Pokemon has given up flying to become a highly efficient grasslands predator. Its crest of feathers are used for communicating with others while hunting.

Dex Entry 2: This descendant of Braviary has given up flying to adapt to a grasslands lifestyle, its wings developing into clawed forelimbs. It is one of the top predators of its natural environment.

Blubber Wing (based off of the Gannetwhale)

Type: Water/Ice

Ability: Thick Fat/Ice Body (Hidden Ability)

Dex Entry 1: A descendant of Cramorant, this flightless bird Pokemon has adapted to a semiaquatic lifestyle and spends most of its time hunting for food in the sea. They live in tightly-knit family groups and are very protective of their young and their eggs.

Dex Entry 2: This descendant of Cramorant hast given up flying to adapt to a semiaquatic lifestyle in the far future. They are ungainly and clumsy on land, but swift predators in the water.

[sliptohk]

Prompt# 14: Telling

Tinted goggles rested snugly over Ellory's eyes, dulling the glare of sunlight off the crystalline landscape. Scirocco ruffled his feathers in response to a particularly stiff breeze that rushed past their perch on an overhang that was more ice than stone. She ignored the rocking as eyes swept for any site of campsite or carnage that might give a hint on just who else might be around. Or at least where the bodies might be buried under a heavy dusting of snow from the evening storm.

Karhken had been younger than expected, not the grizzled hunter she'd formed in her head. Though the man knew his trade well. Signs of three groups passing through before snow covered their tracks. No signs of predation to cause any specific concern short of the Spine. Past that it simply mattered if the beasts were fat and sleeping, or ravenous.

Pressing a hand to her ear to steady the pearl, she released a controlled flow of aether. A familiar pulse as it sought out its partner, but received nothing in reply. Some caves interfered with a shell, to say nothing of disruptive aether that might have rendered the attempt fruitless. Silence was a worrying response, considering constant efforts had been made since Arlette woke them all so suddenly.

"Cheerful! To the Northwest, coming around the outcrop!" Frozen Crater bellowed from further along the ridge, finger thrust out.

True enough, there was a small group trudging laboriously through the snow. With a short whistle and a loose hand on the reins, she turned her bird about and took off at a good pace toward the approaching party. Thick cloaks covered them, but it was abundantly clear from their similar heights and equipment bristling from their packs that it wasn't We Wretched Few. They were certainly skittish, clawed hands resting on worn grips in a heartbeat at the approach of the mounted posse.

Ellory raised a hand as they neared, voice raised to be clearly heard before some over-eager mercenary could throw a francisca her way, "Whoa! Peace! Just lookin' for answers, not a fight!"

Not enough to lower their guard, but they seemed content to stand their ground rather than launch into some needless battle. Lot knew had to move together, that was for certain. To say nothing of the well-worn gear they came dressed in. It would be a difficult call to decide just how a straight fight between the two would go. Best to avoid it entirely. A thought Hear Us Roar seemed to share as one of the Hrothgar spoke up with a guttural snarl.

"Wanna talk, then? Talk! We got malms to go yet!"

"Malms in the opposite direction, looks like!" The hyurgadyn's brow furrowed as they took in the sight more clearly, "What happened to your chocobo? Beasts about?"

"Aye!" They turned and spat, ignoring the directional observation, "By the name of Merciless! Cowardly shites stole what they needed and killed the rest! Don't know what's got their blood up!"

That was certainly something to chew over. This was meant to be a race, not a battle.

"Pardon, but your name is Vtorak, is it not?" Oliver gave a tap of the heels to urge his mount a few steps nearer, "Are any of your number wounded? I do possess some skill in the healing arts if you require assistance."

The offer drew some wary looks, hurried whispers passing between several of the hrothgar before they finally gave a nod of assent. Only a fool turned down the offer of succor in a locale as unforgiving as Coerthas. As they prioritized the injuries, he set about stabilizing those in direst need first. A weight of tension bleeding out of the gathering when hands drifted away from weapons.

"Why you heading south? Resupplying?" Molten River was not one to let Ellory's question fall to the snow between the two of them.

A Helion with a cleft carved into the side of their muzzle shook their head, "Withdrawing. Don't got the time to get out and back everyone else already gaining a few days on us."

Slipping off the side of Scirocco, Ellory gave a sweeping wave of one hand, "Hunters to the south may have some spare food if that got stolen too. Just head more southwesterly from here."

"Appreciate that. At least all you Eorzeans aren't sneaky bags of shite."

Arlette shook her head roughly, "No. A lot are. Did you see Silent? We Wretched Few or those Opposing Elements children?"

They swallowed frustration as their former rivals gave another unwelcome denial, "Don't know where the mages may be after they flitted off from the starting line." They perked up once more as Vtorak busied himself scratching as a scabbed over cut to his neck, "Saw the Few though. Made better time than us, lost sight a half day back before the attack."

An optimistic grin spread across Ellory's face, "Got it, headin' off the way you came? Must be makin' for an old farmstead that way! Think the Xavalien estate lies in that direction!"

Crate looked off in the distance, his expression no less worried than his brother's, "Might be we find them there. Might be we find them in the mountains."

"Might be we run into Merciless." River added.

"Might be…" Ellory's grin turned a bit more feral than her companions were typically comfortable with, "We chastise some naughty children and take back that which ain't theirs."

That earned some grunts of approval. Not that they were necessary when one so egregiously broke the code of brotherhood. Mundane chatter about the weather followed, while the conjuror finished his work. Only a touch of friction when the Bozjans shied away from the red-feathered Scirocco for some reason Ellory could hardly fathom. Soon enough, they split in opposing ways as the Winds blew forth toward the brewing blizzard off in the distance.

[chromatic-lamina]

Heart Pirates Week 2023: Day 8: Hakugan: Broken

AO3 Day 8: Hakugan: Broken

Hakugan's family flew in from the deep north, more than a few islands across, along with the rest of the flock to spend winter in the warmer North Blue temperatures. There were only a few places in the North Blue warmer than the deepest north in winter, although not by much, but at least the geese could crack the ice on the water if they needed to forage, and it didn't always freeze over.

Young snow geese stayed with their parents for a year or two, and some days in the region were sunny, and it was fun for Hakugan to swim with his family in the lakes and along the rivers. Fun to pick at the harvested and unplanted rice fields for insects and grubs when the snow was light on the ground.

Others were hungry too though, and a splash in the water one day caused the flock to rise into the sky and cracks hollowed the air, leaving Hakugan's ears ringing with pain, and one, two, four, six of their members plummeted to the ground, red spreading across their feathers. His mother fell, but into the water. She paddled away.

They nested in a protected area, hunters should be nowhere near. Later he found her sheltered in an inlet, away from the eyes of park-goers and other wildlife. One wing flapped and she hopped across the water to Hakugan. She couldn't lift the other. The bullet had clipped the wing, and the fall had broken its bones.

Before he took up with the Hearts, Hakugan visited her every season. Unable to take to the skies, she waited for the flock's return year in, year out.

@heart-pirates-week.

Day 1 Day 2 Day 3 Day 4 Day 5 Day 6 Day 7 Day 8 Day 9

The English Wikipedia page on Snow geese is a bit misleading, and not necessarily that informative above the distribution of Snow geese (Hakugan).

This is in translation, but from the Japanese Wikipedia: Hakugan is one of these type:

A. c. hyperboreus snow geese It breeds in northern Canada, Alaska , Wrangel Island , and eastern Siberia , and migrates southward to western North America to overwinter in the winter. They fly to Japan on rare occasions to spend the winter (winter birds).

I didn't realise that over-wintering in Japan was so rare. I used to see them often and it was always a delight to witness the flock arriving from their long journey. Therefore, considering Oda is Japanese, I view Hakugan as loosely related to Siberian snow geese that spend the winter in the North Blue/Tohoku/Hokkaido regions.

PS: I also read that the helmsman is traditionally a job held by the newest addition to a submarine crew, at least in the U.S. navy. Jean Bart had the position before (and probably still holds it), but I wonder if Hakugan joined after him.

[crab-crab]

Reminiscing

Legend hummed as he felt Ravio shift against his side. He carefully pulled Ravio closer and watched as the Rider burrowed into Legend’s side and settled back to sleep. It’d been a few days since they started traveling through Loloska. Both Hunter and Rider moving from the colder region towards Lamure where they’ve heard about a ranch that would grant them aid.  He took a deep breath before slowly letting it out, trying to let his thoughts slip away when he sighed. Legend had met Ravio when the other was selling feathers from a Qurupeco and had run into trouble when other hunters were angered by the prices. Legend had managed to talk the other Hunters into letting him take the merchant to the guild and once they were far enough away Legend had let Ravio go. Their first interaction quickly snowballed into Legend learning that Ravio was a Rider, someone who formed bonds and lived with monsters, from a distant village that had suffered heavily from the Black Blight. He’d left with his monstie to find help but had only found trouble with Hunters because of Sheerow.  That led them to where they were now, trekking through the ice and snow on a rumor. He didn’t know what they’d do if Lamure turned out to be a bust if they had to keep searching and running. He could starkly remember Ravio's trembling hands, the fake smile, and the dead eyes. He saw the same expressions in Sheerow, the Bird Wyvern mimicking their rider almost perfectly with his constantly twitching wings, flat chirps and warbles, and dead eyes. He didn’t want to see it again. The pain of not being able to ease his friend's worries, not being able to ease Ravio’s worries. A hum and a push brought him out of his thoughts. Ravio had moved again and was now almost sprawled atop Legend, ‘Likely to steal my body heat’ Legend mused, and Sheerow had pushed further in on his other side. The Crimson Qurupeco was now curled completely around the pair, feathers puffed up to trap heat from the fire and Legend and Ravio. Legend felt himself smile, raising one hand to gently card his fingers through Ravio’s hair and using his other to rub the underside of Sheerow’s beak. He could think about those worries later, for now, Legend would just enjoy having the two close to him. He settled himself down. Drawing Ravio that last bit closer, tucking their blankets more snuggly around the pair and finally allowing his eyes to slip closed.

[nvrcmplt]

the wolf slinks at the edge of territory, vulture a hefty mass beside him. they both walk with trouble, blood in moon bright fur while feathers hide the damage done. thierry asks for no aide, just tucks himself down small at the very edge of old hunter's claim, not a single strand of fur over the territory line. nose he hides under the heavy bush of his tail, ice bright eyes slipping as magic works overtime to heal damage done to the pair.

A mess. That's what it was before his home. A monster that shook even his birds, they weren't making noises personally, but their wings were flapping. Nervous adjustments of talons and want to put distance from that creature out front. Wingates was just finishing up a crude wash, ice water - his generator was out, and he wasn't in the mood to fix it. Still, with wet locks pushed out his face and towel around his shoulders - he stared upon his cameras with a fierce squint. "… Tsk." A turn on his heels, scarred form tucked away under a knitted jumper, thick in its layers to fight the chill of the sunless morn.

Heavy boots clank with metal steps, attention moving from his meal on the stove to the shotgun, loaded, wretched from its resting place by the door to be taken with him. Silver pellets already rested in its chamber, he didn't need to load that thing for a killing blow. Attention though did move to the bird upon his door rattling open. The smell of a thick stew indoors waft outwards - still, he remains still. Staring at them, hands on his weapon, but finger lingered just on the trigger.

Wounded animals were the worst. Wounded monsters? Kill first, question it later.

That was Wingates' motto, he wasn't to go back on it either - but his head was clear for once. His hatred and anger waned with a good day, a hearty stew awaited him - a gift from the village. Though the smell of monster blood was overpowering that outside now. Staring at the mess of a monster, antlers, odd fur patterns, bloody and yet a beautiful creature of this world even though they didn't belong at all in it. Not this day and age.

Jaw was clenching, fighting the desires to just put the beast out of its misery. End it all and live in peace, but that damned bracelet came to mind. It was hanging behind his door, just above it. It was a sturdy piece of gift, he had an idea of using it for a bow string, if it was so impossible to burn, break or cut - to unbraid it and tie it into a different string to strengthen one of his weaponry… The source it was there, wasn't it? This beast - that held the same air about it as that one traveller he spoke politely once to in passing.

Still, standing with his door behind him left open to ajar. He lowers the weapon near completely to step down the muddy path with a glower towards the two creatures. Though he turns off to the left to his food storage to tug aside cover and open the large door. He placed down his shotgun after staring at it for a moment longer to click his tongue as he placed it down to hoist the rib cage of a deer. Skinned but not completely butchered yet. Freshly frozen, not so much blood - as they were drained before being placed inside. The next thing was for it to be tossed at the duo, the thud of meat and bone - would melt in time for them to devour.

Wingates wasn't to do much else, as he moved to hoist his gun again and take off for the front door. A mutter on his lips, cursing himself already for his choice making and how foolish it would be to even think that thing had his sympathy. "Be gone by the morning." The door slams with ease, the locks in their plentiful places sounding off one after the other. Inside, it would be silent. The fire turned off, and the saucepan left on to be forgotten.

Wingates needed to seriously do some rethinking of his stupid choices getting him into fucked situations.