#I think he preens & messes with his feathers like a bird

[robotssssss]

Gabriel doing winged creature behaviors, also wings that can blush

[clockwayswrites]

The bitties must cuddle. ""Birdtritch"" Part 5

masterpost

“Nightwing!” Tim shouted, leaning forward on his perch.

Nothing.

Then a black and blue stripped hand poked out of the green feathers in a thumbs up. “I’m okay!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Nightwing,” Hood grumbled as he stalked forward. “Hey bird brain! Let go of my brother.”

“Aww, he called me brother,” Nightwing cooed over the line.

“…maybe you can keep him after all,” Hood said to the bird thing that had leaned down to peer at him.

The green glint of the bird thing’s eyes reflected off of Hood’s helmet. Then it blinked and in that moment dozens of abstracted cyan eyes blinked into existence around Hood.

Hood reached out to poke at one with the muzzle of his gun. It went right through the ‘eye’. “What the fuck…?”

The bird thing trilled back at Hood.

Tim tapped his comm to open the all channels line. “Um, so, we have… an eldritch bird creature that has been exposed to cuddle pollen. It’s is already cuddling Nightwing and… yep, yeah, now it has Red Hood. Don’t shoot it, Hood! It’s friendly!”

“It’s a fucking menace!”

“A bird?” Robin’s voice piped up.

“Don’t get too excited, baby bat, eldritch bird. It’s the size of an SUV and has too many arms. And eyes. Sorta eyes? And yep, there goes Hood, absorbed by the fluff. Oh great, it’s looking at me now.”

“Avoid the entity, Red Robin,” Batman said across the comms, tone clipped and worried.

“Sorta hard to do, big B. It has a lot of legs right now and all eyes on me. There so many eyes.”

“Avoid the entity!” Batman barked again.

Yeah, like that was going to go well.

-

“Father! Make this creature unhand me at once!” Robin shouted.

“Calm the fuck down, it’s not hurting us,” Red Hood grumbled. “Not that it’s letting us go…”

“Actually pretty comfortable,” Red Robin said in a voice tinged with the edges of sleep. Bruce couldn’t even see a part of Red Robin in the mess of feathers.

Bruce just sighed and pinched his nose. “Boys.”

“Did you just ‘boys’ us?” Nightwing asked, though he sounded like he was enjoying the whole circumstance.

“Yes. Black Bat isn’t involved in this at all,” Bruce said. “So, boys.”

Black Bat’s soft laugh over the line was mostly drowned out by the warble that the bird entity made. Bruce absently started comparing the creature to the types of birds that roosted in Gotham as the surprisingly long neck unfolded and reached out towards him.

He regarded the bird entity steadily.

It warbled again, tilted its head, and then started preening the ears of the cowl.

Bruce sighed heavily.

“Likes you.” Cass’ lyrical words came over the line. Bruce knew that tone. She was taking pictures for blackmail.

(And everyone said girls were easier.)

“I really don’t think it’s going to let us go, B. It might not even be able to with the cuddle pollen,” Nightwing said. Bruce could see the blue tips of the boots now but nothing else.

Bruce hummed. “Gotham doesn’t have the facilities to humanely keep such a creature.”

Robin hit the ground in a crouch and started forward. “Father—”

The bird entity reached out again for Robin with one of its too many limbs. Robin parried with his sheathed blade. The coo that the entity made in response was heart wrenching. Almost instantly Robin deflated at the sound.

He crossed his arms and looked away with a huff. “Fine.”

With a much happier sound, Robin was grabbed carefully around the waist and placed on the bird entity’s back, right behind its next.

“Get off,” Red Robin grumbled from wherever he was in the mass of plumage. Some shifting along the back feathers followed the sleepy words. Then a yawn. “The Cave is the only choice.”

“You can’t be serious,” Red Hood said.

(Bruce thought Red Hood might be clasped firmly under a wing.)

Red Robin yawned again. “Large, secure, safe for us…”

“Yeah, and how the fuck do we get this thing to the Cave?” Red Hood snapped back.

After a considering silence, Black Bat pipped up with that same mischievous lilt. “Idea.”

[thatanimewriter]

SPRING HAS SPRUNG.

➳ synopsis: it's spring time and your bird-like tendencies are hitting at full force

➳ character/s: dan heng, jing yuan, dr ratio, aventurine, sunday, midoriya izuku, tokoyami fumikage, uraraka ochako, shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki

➳ warnings: swearing, you got wings and you like nesting, very mildly suggestive (jing yuan, aventurine, sunday), spoilers for aven backstory

➳ notes: i'm back at it with bird!reader stuff because i think it's cute. will i ever do any other content with bnha that isn't birds (this is like, the 4th-), probably not LMAO

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

── 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆.

he's just come back from the luofu n is lowkey kinda stressed cause memories n stuff

so he chooses to go to your room on the express to get some cuddles in

but as soon as he walks in, he sees you on the bed, wings spread and a bunch of shirts and blankets around you

he gave a little 'aww' and removed his shoes and coat before slipping under your wing

you grunted quietly n he was lowkey like 0_0 cause he didn't wanna wake you

but you just shuffled a bit and returned to sleeping

if he doesn't fall asleep with you, he's probably slapping everything from the luofu onto the databank from his phone

he is also in vidyadhara nesting mode probably

so it's just a mess of clothes, blankets, wings and a tail in this strange huddle

maybe you can convince him to get out of the databank and ditch his futon on the floor

── 𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍.

he loves being a little bit lazy, so he's probably come home earlier than he should be (don't tell fu xuan)

he's watching as you build your nest on his bed and he just chuckles and comes to help you set up PRIME abode

you have to convince him to do some of his work in the nest though, otherwise he'll just sleep under your wing

the birds that hide in his hair are living for the nest though, they all come out to have fun

the birds will preen you in your sleep ;v;

you'll be taking a nap and they're out doin whatever and then they start hoppin all over your wings and preening your wings

they don't let jing yuan do it for you, they nip him if he tries and that's the only time they'll be somewhat aggressive to him

this also sucks if you experience any form of heat or rut

all of his birds and his partner are going THROUGH it and you're all such a handful

he's gotta find a way to separate you from his birds so he can spend quality time with you

── 𝐃𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎.

he also does all his work in your little nest if he isn't soaking in the bath (unlike jing yuan, he's willingly productive)

dude's a nerd, so he probably does know how to preen your wings for you if you let him

he might be reluctant to bathe WITH you if you bathe similarly to a literal bird though

thankfully he has a beeg bath though, so you have room to splash and flap the wings about

he might've gone out and bought the best blankets and pillows for you to make a nest

maybe even bought a circular bed for you both to fit so it's more nest-like

is also probably mildly annoying cause he's a smartass, so any angsty moment is kinda like guys askin if it's shark week

like a swear jar, he has a jar for how often you smack him with your wings

accident or not-

he's coping, but he loves you, so he'll stay with you in your nest and let you shove shiny things in his pockets

── 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄.

he lives for nesting season, this is his favourite time of year EVER, hands down

does call you baby bird all the time, but it's worse now that it's spring

sorta sad note, but he probably enjoys nesting season so much cause he feels a love and a warmth he never got as a kid-

wrapped in wings and you're a bit more possessive than you would normally be

comfy bed, naps (for you at least, he's got ipc work-)

he once went to work with a feather stuck in his clothes, but he ended up keeping it as an addition

maybe not in the original place, but definitely somewhere on his 'uniform'

would be annoying and keep saying he's very happy to satisfy any SPRINGTIME needs for you

to which you kick him out of your nest :))

he gets invited back in after a few hours, but he's got some groveling to do

── 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘.

he gets it, he sorta has it too

joint nest for the both of you with all your favourite blankets and pillows

obviously he doesn't have big wings like you do, but he helps preen your feathers and you get to do the same

if you nap together, he flaps his wings in your face to wake you up with a lil :3

he has all the blankets as part of the nest but his favourite blanket is your wings

kinda gatekeeps you a bit in spring, he doesn't want people he doesn't trust going near you

n he doesn't wanna leave you either, he wants to stay in the nest and cuddle and nap ;v;

probably sex as well, but-

he brings you shiny things daily, but it becomes a slight problem when you run out of shelf room

the wind power than generates from you flapping your wings in a fit is definitely more than his and he's a lil bit jealous ._.

── 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔.

he's got all your care instructions in his little quirk notebook, so he's all set to be by your side all spring

he will never say no to a nap in the nest, ever

when the dorm rooms come in, you've got a sunken circular bed for your nesting habits

he has a lot of photos of you tucked in, sleeping with your wings outstretched

a lot of sketches as well cause he thinks you look oh so adorable when you're hidden away in bed

highkey wishes you could permanently live in the same dorm just to have access to your nest

turns all your loose feathers into quills for fun

he brings you shiny things if he sees them when he's out and brings them to you

he thought he'd have to convince you to leave the dorms, but it's actually the opposite way around

he likes the warmth, he likes your company, why can't he stay >:((

── 𝐓𝐎𝐊𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐆𝐄.

he gets it pt. 2

his head is actually hair, not feathers (yeah i know right-), so you'd have to teach him how to preen your wings for you

BUT you have dark shadow as well, so tokoyami has one wing, dark shadow has the other

and you get your care done twice as fast

tokoyami nuzzles his beak into the crook of your neck when you nap

probably nibbles on your wings a little bit by accident to preen you, but you don't mind, you think it's funny

he will help you tidy and make your nest, but it might cause arguments sometimes over where pillows should go

it's a bit of a squashed bed situation if you did a sleepover

the dorm beds aren't super big for this stuff, so you can't curl up that much

but you make do with what you have

── 𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐎.

she loves spring time ;v;

the nice weather, the flowers, the warmth of your nest when you set it up

also, what a great excuse for a day in should she want one???

just say that her partner is having spring time blues and you need her with you to get through it

she brings the fluffiest blankets for you both to snuggle under, but she's still getting used to the sheer size of your nest

more squish than she thought there would be cause there's SO MANY pillows

turned some of your feathers into jewellery like earrings and probably a dream catcher tbh

she can float, so if you wanna do little flying sessions, she's so down to come

chilling in the nest with a hot chocolate and a movie or series is a great way to relax at the end of a day

she will also stroke your wings if you fall asleep before her, but she'll fall asleep soon after if you do-

── 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈.

listen, he'll take ANY reason to stay home that he can, and he will be so happy to spend his day in with you

he might be a little shit and tease you for how fussy you get about your nest and your grooming

but he will cuddle with you and he will help you tidy yourself if you want him to

probably for feathers nearer your back, cause you can't reach as easily

he has a lot of photos of you sleeping in his camera roll, and if you snatch his phone in spring, it's all you

lots of little butterfly kisses all over in the mornings when you're both waking up

he also tells people to fuck off if they want either of you for something when you're actively isolating from society

his bed hair is WILD though, so maybe you have to preen him more than you initially thought

it's already a mess, but it's even more of a nest

he made a joke that you could sleep in his hair once and he spent that night in his own bed ._.

── 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈.

he will combust n explode

you're so cute when you're nesting and snuggling into your bed, his heart can't take it

he thinks you're trying to kill him, but if you are, he'll die happy at least

sometimes will grow his own wings to get double wing action when you nap in the nest

he appreciates the domesticity of spring time for you and probably thinks about what this might be like when you graduate ua

but he blushes so hard thinking about a future (with you) that he hides under your wings and doesn't resurface until he has to

it's not him who has photos of you in your nest, instead it's mirio who has the photos

he permeates through the dorm walls to tell you guys things but you're usually sleeping in your free time in spring

he says it's for the inevitable wedding so he can do a presentation about how he's your no. 1 supporter

you're jealous of tamaki, cause he doesn't have to preen his wings, he just eats chicken and grows amazing wings ;v;

[luveline]

Hey, love your work. Sooo, I was thinking, if it's ok, more actress reader and rockstar Sirius. Please, please, please. I'm obsess.

ty for ur request!! rockstar!sirius x actress!reader

You're listening to Sirius' new song —it's all you listen to, at this point— and don't hear the knock at your trailer door. 

There's nothing to do but wait until you're needed again at costuming for more measurements, so you've sequestered yourself away to miss your boyfriend in private. Nails in front of you, you're humming the right words to the wrong verse, pushing your cuticles back with your thumb nail and wishing Sirius were here to tell you off.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?" he asks over your shoulder, the smell of his perfume sudden and heavy in your nose. He sounds pleased despite his scolding. "You'll be in so much trouble with makeup." 

You bolt to your feet. One moment you're looking at him, the next you're throwing your arms around his shoulders, the silly foldout chair you'd been lounging in collapsing to the trailer floor with a thump. 

"When did you get here?" you ask, practically shouting in his ear, your enthusiasm jolting him one side to another. 

"You know I'm around," he says, which means, I came straight here. 

"I missed you so much," you say, still happy, but with that desperate loneliness that pervades whenever he's gone. 

You pull away to check he's real, and he is, and he's handsome, skin tanned by the eastern European sunshine, a golden nose ring glinting in the light. Stubble scratches your hands as you stroke his cheeks, your top lip as you lean up for a loving peck.

"You're really here," you say, stroking his hair behind his ears. 

Sirius laughs and pulls your hands off of him, holding them tight in his, "Alright, don't smother me," he says, not without love. "You have very cold hands." 

"You're meant to be holding them," you croon. 

Sirius takes you in. You preen like a bird having combed all her feathers, knowing the genre of what he might say before he so much as parts his pretty lips. "You look beautiful, my love." 

Cheesy from any other mouth, you flush at his praise and pull him closer to you, your stomachs touching, your chests angled apart. 

He's been touring and you've been working; it's been a good long while since you got to hold his hand. He tries to come home to you as often as he can while you fly out city to city chasing him whenever you aren't contracted, but nothing feels as good as this —he's home. At least for a few months.

"I missed you," he says gently. "I know you already know that, but I really missed you." Sirius steals his hands away to wrap arms around your shoulders, face pressed to the top of your head. "I missed you. Missed you so much." 

Your face fits nicely under his. Sirius might not believe in fate —it wasn't luck that sent you what must have amounted to thousands upon thousands of flowers, a bouquet every day for weeks, nor was it luck that had your thank you notes turning to love letters, the best of which he keeps in his jacket pocket— but you do, you have to, because you fit together perfectly. 

"I missed you, too," you murmur. 

"Can we run away, yet?" he asks. 

"Maybe after reshoots, handsome." 

Sirius takes your face into his hand and lays a heavy kiss on your lips. You squeeze your eyes closed, giggling as his kiss grows heated, insistent at the seam of your lips. You let him deepen the kiss but lean back in the circle of his arms at the pressure, pushed by his enthusiasm into the vanity behind you. 

Bottles and brushes and things collapse. You laugh and break away from his kissing, peering over your shoulder at the mess you've made. 

"It always looks like after an earthquake when you come to see me," you say, so in love that it sounds like a good thing. 

Sirius kisses under your jaw firmly, the pendant hanging from his neck ghosting against your chest with his movement. "Won't matter if I make some more mess then, will it?" he asks between soft kisses. 

"Just don't give me any bruises," you say as he mouths downward, weaving your fingers into his hair. 

"Your makeup girls can cover it." 

"But it's embarrassing," you laugh, tickled by his hand as it slides up the inside of your thigh. He squeezes the softness there greedily. 

Sirius peels away, looking down at you like you've just spun silver in your bare hands. He wrote about it once, a song they never made, how the sound of you laughing from two rooms over made him feel homesick. How having you in arms reach was the only thing he really needed. 

He looks reverential. You relent. "They can probably cover it," you say softly. 

Sirius grins as he dives for your neck, another round of giddy laughter dying on your lips as he promises to show you how much he missed you.

[saekkas]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐓

summary: the day gojo satoru came home, everything changed– the day the strongest returned scarred, something shifted.

tags: 775 wc | gender neutral reader | angst with some fluff mixed in | slight manga spoilers | satoru keeps his scars from his fight with sukuna | deals with depression and loss

it’s warm. the chilly, almost numbing, weather from winter has thawed– leaving behind patches of ashen snow. the birds chirp outside of your apartment window, calling out to each other as they huddle for warmth.

you watch, enraptured, as a mother bird guards its fledgelings– it preens their wings, maintains its nest by scourging for branches and thickets alike, spreads its wings for when a threat comes near.

it’s almost endearing, how human and animal nature mirror each other so well.

“you okay?” the touch of your hand is feather light, leaving no trace as they trail down satoru’s back. your lover’s quiet– almost uncharacteristically so as he lets you tend to the scars that now litter down his back and throughout his body.

“i’m good,” satoru hums, his eyes plastered on the mugs that are nestled on your nightstand. on some days, when the memories haunt him more than they should, he refuses to speak altogether– lips pressed tight against each other, shoulders slumped as he cradles himself on the bed.

it’s warm, he once told you, eyes so vacant and empty. devoid of the usual bright blue spark they carry.  i like it when it’s warm.

“does it hurt?” you know it doesn’t– know that after what he’s been through, everything’s just another shade of numb. and yet, the tiny whisper in your mind wonders if he truly understands what you’re asking. “you can tell me, y’know? that’s the only way i can help.”

“they’re healed. nothing hurts. not one bit.” satoru grins, showing off his boyish, almost childlike happiness that contrasts the way his eyes are dimmed, hair a mess atop his head.

because that’s who satoru is– who he’s supposed to be. the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, a burden so heavy it dilutes, erases one’s sense of self because if he isn’t the strongest, what else is there to be?

for a fraction of the moment, you let him comfort you– chuckle like everything is the way it was. you miss the sound of his voice, the annoying cackle he lets out just before laughing– most of all, you miss him. the satoru that isn’t a shell of the person he used to be.

your hands glide down the expanse of his back while your eyes roam his face– you take in every individual wound, each a reminder of what he fought for and lost. you wonder what looks back at him when he stares in the mirror.

“i know that,” you mumble, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, gently thumbing his dimple. “but remember what shoko said? it’ll be better if we put some ointment on them.”

“right. right.” the roll of his eyes might have been endearing had he not stiffened at your words. “we should have my wounds healed so they look less ugly.”

the term wound sounds like such an insult for how gentle your touches are when he’s with you.

“hey,” you whisper, watching as his eyelashes flutter the moment your hand threads through his hair. “they’re not ugly, satoru. no part of you could ever be ugly.”

you don’t let him speak, shake your head when he opens his mouth to object. “they’re like stars, y’know?”

“i think you meant to say ‘like pimples,’” he snorts, sounding playful as he waves a hand to dismiss your statement, but you can see it– the hatred and anger deeply rooted in his tone. “or ugly warts.”

“they’re a constellation of stars, satoru. one that’s written on your skin.” you tilt his head upwards, watch as his pupils dilate– a sea of black drowning in blue. he shivers, spine straightening when your fingers trace his jawline. “each one so pretty like they were individually brushed on by a painter.”

you press a kiss to his lips, let him feel the expanse of your love as your hands move before they rest on his chest– you feel his heart thud against your palm, a gentle but needed reminder that even when all else fails, you still have one another. “you are my world and all my stars, satoru. the sky would be so empty without you.”

“then, i’ll consider them yours,” he whispers after a moment of reprieve, leaning his forehead against yours– he lets his façade fall, unhooks the mask he wears for the world. baring his soul wide for you to see. you soften at the tears that pool in his eyes, like diamonds glistening in a storm. “just like how i am too.”

to most people, the strongest may have fallen– but, in your eyes, he’s still your saving grace.

[ticklytums]

Better Days

(Husk and Alastor didn’t always have just moments of contention, and after Alastor’s attempts to ‘preen his wings’ turns devious, Husk finds the perfect payback…and Alastor may have discovered a new ability.)

Hints of Radiohusk my beloved, taking place back in the past with two gay dads and their daughter.)

“I don’t think Rosie much appreciated you leaving feathers strewn across her floors,” Alastor drawled as he and his compatriot made their way up the porch leading up into their manor. “In fact that’s definitely the reason we were sent home so early.”

Husk rolled his eyes as he resisted the urge to close the door in Alastor’s face. It was a temptation he might have given into if one of his arms wasn’t occupied with their sugar comatose little lady. Poor thing was still bloated with cake. “It had nothing to do with me, asshole. It’s because the little ankle biter here ate all of the desserts. I think she ate most of that cake herself.”

“No surprise there,” Alastor mused as he reached his arms out to take their sleepy bug into his own arms, handling her with the care and attentiveness few would see from the radio demon. Few were privileged to ever see such tenderness, unless they saw the radio demon and the girl that had become his daughter.

Husk couldn’t help the softer look that came to his face as he looked at the little face smushed into Alastor’s chest over his shoulder, her one eye blinking sleepily for a moment, before shutting once more.

As the duo disappeared down the corridor of their manor, Husk returned back to his wings, picking meticulously at the stray feathers starting to fall out of the open appendages. This had to be the worst thing about being an avian based creature. Part avian anyway. 

Stray feathers were just so unbearably itchy when he went into a molt. Hearing Niffty and Alastor complain about the mess his feathers left on the floor didn’t make things any less annoying. 

Not wanting to give Alastor a reason to nettle him (as if he needed a reason), Husk picked up the grooming brush, tilting his crimson wing at every angle to try and reach all the feathers. It was useless though, his body wasn’t meant to bend that way, and he was certain he heard a crack when he tried. “Ugh, fuck.”

“Require some assistance?”

“Shit!” Husk yelped out loud and fumbled with the bristled brush, which Alastor gleefully caught in one hand.  “Why do you always have to spring out of the shadows like some fucking cryptid?” he snapped, which only seemed to make Alastor all the more amused.

“It’s more fun! Now, having some trouble are we?” he drawled, watching as the feline tried biting at a few of the itchy feathers. “Goodness, you’re shedding everywhere, like a caged little bird.”

Husk’s narrowed eyes said he didn’t appreciate the metaphor—less so the ‘caged’ part of it. “It’s not my fault, I didn’t ask for this fucking form.” He mewed in annoyance as Alastor grabbed a hold of his wing, sending him nearly off the barstool at the sudden shift of gait. “Alastor knock it off!”

“Oh come now,” the deer drawled, giving that crimson tip an innocent little tug as Husk meowed in annoyance and tried to bat him off. “I’m simply attempting to assist you! You can’t possibly reach the inner part of your wing, or the spine of them! Especially not the inner part! Come now, don’t you want a friendly hand?”

“No,” Husk drawled, trying once more to flap his wing free of the prick. He could only flap and move it so much while it was being held unless he wanted the bone to snap. “Keep your ‘friendly’ hands off me-ehe!?” He yelped as Alastor started meticulously running the bristles along the spine of his wing. Fuck. He knew what he was up to.

“Alastor knock i-ihit ohoff!”

“Ah no, I do not believe I will!” Alastor chirped as he started rubbing the bristles along the inner downy of Husk’s wings, pulling a snort as he tried not to burst into laughter. He attempted to channel it instead into a growl, but the bright giggles betrayed him.

“You fuhuhuhucker! Knock it ohohoff!” Husk made a swipe for the radio demon, slightly more light hearted in nature than any time he’d swiped at him in the past. Alastor dodged the swipes, and for that act of rebellion, rubbed the bristles deeper into his wing.

Husk’s laughter escalated as he tried to pull his wings against his side, but it was useless as Alastor kept his wing held out firmly. The bristles scrubbed further into the ticklish downy, and Husk’s laughter went up an octave. “Al nohoho! StAHAHAP!” He snorted as the deer’s claws gave an impish tweak into the underwing, and his tail thrashed madly.

This wasn’t an especially new occurrence since Alastor had learned he was terribly ticklish. In fact, he’d found ways to torment him with it as often as he possibly could.

“AHAHALASTOR NOHOHO!” Husk begged through raucous cackles as his paws scraped against the hardwood flooring, giggles spilling out through clenched teeth. The bristles felt like ticklish little spikes rubbing into the wing pits. God he was going to fucking murder this man.

“Ohhh, you make the most adorable little sounds when I get into your wings.” Alastor grinned viciously as he twiddled his brown talons, the crimson tipped claws running along through the feathers. “Hmm, I should see if there’s spare feathers that need to be plucked.”

“Thehehehere’s not!” Husk yelped, his eyes widening in horror when he realized what he was indicating. “Don’t do it! MEOW!”

He turned his face into the deer’s shoulder and muffled more shrieks of laughter into it as he felt those mischievous deer claws crawl into the downy. The claws scribbling were far more ticklish than the bristles, and far more purposeful of what he was intending. “YOU FUHUCKER! THAT’S NOT PICKING FEATHERS! KNOHOCK IT OFF!”

“Stay still, I don’t know why you insist on making a simple grooming session so ridiculously difficult.” The amused lilt to Alastor’s voice suggested he knew exactly what he was doing, and Husk let off a disgruntled hiss. As much as he could through the giggles trying to slip through.

“Y-youhoo aren’t fucking slihihick!” Husk snarled, attempting to swipe a paw through the air, unsure if he’d get a scratch in or a smack. His wings flapped more, and giggles were quick to spill out as Alastor’s fingers explored through the downy of his feathers.

“I’ve no idea what you mean, Husker! You know how much I do love just feeling the soft feathers on my skin.” It was the poor choice of wording the poor bastard didn’t seem to realize, and the perfect revenge was already in motion in his mind.

Come to think of it, he was quite certain he’d seen a similar giggling reaction when Niffty had playfully rubbed the feathers of her duster over him. It was a theory he hadn’t the courage to test out, but found himself more emboldened tonight.

In a sudden maneuver, Husk had spun around and swept the deer suddenly with a foot. He was impressed with himself that he’d actually managed to catch Alastor off guard, a rare feat in itself. “Well let me help you feel it then.”

Husk’s front and back paws perched together on the edge of the stool, his tail flicking with agitation and excitement as he leaped onto his prey. He was half expecting Alastor to disperse within the shadows. He knew he could. He wasn’t as fast as the radio demon, and yet the deer allowed himself to be jumped onto. He in fact allowed himself to be pinned down.

Then again, Husk knew Alastor wasn’t completely like a lot of overlords. He enjoyed the pushback. He loved to see just how many ways this captured little soul of his could utilize its claws.

Granted, never did Husk think he’d be using them to scribble at the deer’s tummy, but hey, any way that he could get Alastor back was a win in his book.

“Husker…” The dials turned in the deer’s eyes, but they blinked away with mirth as he squealed, feeling Husk indent his claws into his belly.

Husk’s ears pricked upward in a combination of disbelief, sadistic amusement, and just an iota of fondness. So Alastor was ticklish.

Delightful.

“Don’t you “Husker’ me, you son of a bitch,” he scoffed as he pushed into the soft skin, delighting in Alastor’s cackles. “We both know that you love when I use my claws,” he drawled, smirking as he fluttered over the wiggling skin. “Don’t think I’ve ever used ‘em this way on you before.”

Alastor knew Husk was right. He did so enjoy their antagonistic relationship and all the fun duels that would come of it. It was interesting to see just how many ways the kitten could use his claws. But, why this?

“Cat got your tongue?” Husk’s claws skittered up further to tuck under Alastor’s arms and the staticy cackles shrieked out even louder. His hooves beat against the floor as his hands found purchase against Husk’s, but oddly enough didn’t seem to care about moving them.

“Oh I knew it,” Husk grinned viciously at the overlord as his nails traced between his ribs. “You’re enjoying this.” He was pleased to see the bright dusting on his cheeks and the angry glare. It made sense honestly. Alastor loved games and he loved laughter. This kind of combined his two favorite things.

He decided he was being too kind to the deer by letting him see where he was targeting next, and so his claws slipped up underneath Alastor’s suit. The microphone feedback it elected made him wince, but he chuckled as Alastor squealed.

“NOHOHOHO! HUSK DOHOHON’T!”

Husk smirked as he started a slow drumming along the deer’s belly, endeared at the way the feline claws searching around his bare tummy brought forth little fawn like squeals and snorts. Husk couldn’t believe how adorable and childish the poor thing sounded. “You really are just a little fawn, aren’t you?”

He rolled his eyes as Alastor made an attempt to be threatening, antlers branching out for a moment. A punishing scribble across his tummy made them retract as Alastor bucked against the ground. “Yeah yeah, none of that now. Don’t want to ruin our game already by being the radio demon, huh?”

He for one was enjoying this. Who wouldn’t be allured at the idea of having their overlord at their mercy for any reason? Although the rare, lighter atmosphere surrounding them was…nice.

Over the years their antagonism was afforded rare moments of softness, especially with Niffty in their lives. A glimpse of the friendship that had been sullied by a contract.

Alastor’s genuine laughter was so bright and airy. It bubbled out in glee, with a nearly precious flick of his ears. Husk couldn’t help but notice he was making very little attempt to get away, almost surrendered into it as they played.

Well. Didn’t want to make it too comfortable for him now, did he? Husk readjusted his position on the poor deer, and inched his claws further up his suit. He was pleased to see his prey kick and struggle more. “You know, you’re always trying to antagonize my cat behavior, so how about I just make it easier for ya?”

His claws planted along the deer’s bottom ribs and tummy, and began to knead and massage into the sensitive flesh there. The potent little pokes, almost sharp enough to hurt, got even louder shrieks of laughter.

“HUSK STAHAHAP!” Alastor snorted, yelped, and barked out more staticy laughter through screeching microphone feedback. When Husk’s claws got dangerously close to his bellybutton, he nearly babbled out a plea for mercy.

The feline blinked in surprise and just barely traced his claw along the edge of his bellybutton. The effect was electric. Alastor kicked and bucked, and to his horror and humiliation, a deer bleat squeaked out.

Husk blinked for a moment as that…frankly adorable sound processed. Then to Alastor’s further horror, he burst into laughter. “Ohoho my fuck! Whahat was thahat? That was so cute! Did I push a button or something?”

He rose an eyebrow when he saw the dials return to Alastor’s eyes as the radio host growled. Scoffing, Husk’s claws flexed back into the soft flesh of his belly, and Alastor fell back into laughter. “Put those antlers away, I’m not gonna tell anyone. But…I do feel like pushing buttons.”

Alastor gave him a warning look and shook his head, but Husk only nodded back without fear and tasered his claw into the deer’s bellybutton. The radio host screeched and now the feline was struggling just to keep him pinned down.

It seemed he had found ‘the death spot’, and Husk was fully intending on exploiting the spot to its fullest extent, if he could just get the cannibal to stay still. Each dig was sending off electrocutions of sensitivity, and nearly pulling a hiccup from the deer.

The deer beat and smacked his hooves uselessly against the ground, until finally he’d kicked off a shoe. Husk blinked as it went flying, and when he saw the little hoof that was struggling to curl in, he felt the fear radiating off of the cannibal.

Hm. Maybe he hadn’t found the deer’s death spot yet. Husk turned to the wiggling hoof, and his eyes dilated playfully, following the movement. He turned and jumped on it, and didn’t expect Alastor’s resulting reaction.

“NONONO!” Alastor tossed himself onto his stomach and began hilariously scrambling his claws into the floor. “Husk please, you’ve gotten me back!”

“Please?” The feline looked back at him, taken aback and very very amused. Alastor must be really bad here if he was begging. If anything, that just ensured he had to try this spot. Husk smirked as he grabbed the overlord’s ankle, and just barely grazed a nail along the arch of the deer’s foot. The resulting scream was glorious.

He was deathly ticklish on his hooves, it was the only real spot that could break him quickly. If Husk found that out, it’d be the end for him! Yet it seemed it already was, as claws scribbled relentlessly up and down his hoof.

Alastor howled with laughter into the floor. He beat his fists, slamming repeatedly into the hard wood as he hiccuped and shrieked, past the point that he could get out any words.

“Shhh, keep it down man,” Husk pretended to scoff, thoroughly enjoying each desperate scream and babble. “You’re gonna wake Niffty and we’re gonna have to deal with her. Don’t want her seeing you like this do ya? She’d love to join in.”

His claws found the deer’s toes, drilling in. The scream from Alastor reverberated with feedback as mirthful tears squeezed from his eyes. Another unheeded babble of mercy squeaked out, and before either of them realized it, strange shadowy appendages flailed from his form.

They careened into Husk, who yelped and fumbled off of the deer. He shoved himself up off the floor just enough to see the strange tentacles waving in the air. Alastor was staring at them with wonderment.

“The fucking fuck?!” Husk yelped out in disbelief. “What the shit are those? Where did they come from? Never fucking seen them before.” He couldn’t help but feel fear curdling in his gut. Alastor had amassed new powers?

Catching his breath, the deer curiously ran a hand along one of the shadowy things. It felt almost leathery and cold. “How interesting! Of course I have made quite a few new deals lately and have honed some new abilities. Perhaps this is one of them?”

“Yeeeeah, uh, I’m not a fan.” He backed up from his boss, not liking how the slithery things were looming over him. “Put them away Ursula.” To his horror, Alastor seemed to have clued in to the same thing Husk was fearing. “No. Don’t you even.”

“You really think you can get off tickling the radio demon without receiving punishment in return?” Alastor chuckled sinisterly as his eyes blackened and dials glowed.

“It was revenge for the wings, you asshole!” Husk scrambled to get up but shrieked as the tendrils were faster. A wobbling grin plastered his face before he could stop it, even as he hissed and swiped at the tendrils. 

“And now I’m having my own revenge.” He was pleased to see his prey squirm. It was always fun to watch them struggle, and flop about until they realized freedom was hopeless. “You should feel honored, Husker! You're helping me test out these new powers!”

Husk’s claws made hilarious squeaking sounds as they grated across the floor. “Oh yeah, fucking fantastic,” he drawled as he was pulled closer and closer to Alastor. “My life’s long aspiration has been to help some weirdo with his newfound octopus powers.”

A bark of laughter couldn’t even be concealed as he felt the tip of the tendrils flick along the pads of his feet. “Nohoho! Ahahahalastor! Dohohon’t, you priiHIIIHIHICK!” The tendril exploded in wiggles along his foot, delighting in the way the poor feline screamed and kicked.

“Hmmm, the volume dial seems to be acting haywire! I don’t appreciate such a muffled tone!” Alastor grinned and grabbed Husk, yanking him off his stomach and onto his back where he could hear his laughter and screams freely. “Think Hell would appreciate a different broadcast?” he teased.

“YOU BEHEHETTER FUCKING NOHOT!” the bartender yelped, horrified by the mere thought of it. He wouldn't put it past Alastor and that thought horrified him. He meowed loudly, much to Alastor’s delight, and attempted to batter the deer with his wing. The feather attacking him brought bright giggles from Alastor, whose appendages were having a hard time focusing now.

After a few moments of attempting to school his concentration back, Alastor managed to utilize even more of the tendrils and Husk found himself at the radio demon’s mercy as a few more of them drilled into the hollows of his wings. It was nearly overwhelming. Alastor never had the ability to attack so many spots at once.

Husk shrieked and flapped his wings desperately, the appendages battering more at the deer and flailing uselessly. He kicked his feet, raucous cackles and gruff laughter muffling into the floor. “AL NO! AL STOP STOP!” he pleaded, screaming when the radio demon only seemed to increase his ferocity.

Alastor was satisfied to watch his companion struggle, but when he noted Husk’s face starting to twist up in discomfort, the game lost its appeal. Bodily harm wasn’t what he was going for this time, so he stopped. It wouldn’t be as fun to hurt him this time around. It would ruin the spirit of their little game, and…Alastor found he rather enjoyed it.

Husk was intent to quickly scurry away before his boss changed his mind, but to his alarm, he found those tendrils winding around his arms. Panic prickled for an instant, but before Husk could really struggle he was yanked down onto the deer’s chest.

Crimson arms had enveloped him and for a moment the feline could just blink. This was even rarer than the past few minutes had been. Alastor did have a penchant for physical affection, but it never seemed genuine. Normally it was a gesture that could be used to degrade him, like the way he scratched his ears. An actual hug was rare.

Husk found his ears folding back blissfully and purrs rumbled, betraying the annoyed struggling he’d tried doing. At least he was pleased by the soft giggles that he got when his paws unconsciously kneaded the deer.

Try as he might to maintain a healthy professional distance from Alastor, he had a way of reeling him in, and trapping him in this strange little familial unit they had created. A family by chance, circumstance, and contracts. To an onlooker, he knew they looked like two dads and their daughter when they were out on a stroll. …Wasn’t far from the truth.. …Perhaps that’s one reason the chains hurt so bad sometimes, still feeling them tight in his subconscious.

No matter any affection that was exchanged between them both, or the better days they shared, those metal links would forever poison anything they could be. The thought was enough to sour Husk’s expression. Alastor noticed, and so in a last moment of daring cheek, feline instincts had him groom Alastor’s hair and face.

“Oh-eugh! Disgusting!” Alastor groaned, quick to shove his pesky cat to the ground and wipe the saliva off him. “You and your damn grooming. Sullying a good moment between us.”

It ain’t that that sullied it, Husk thought, but kept the bitter words to himself. Instead he sat up against the floor and smirked over. “Thinking of using your new playthings on Niff?” He was amused to see Alastor still toying with the tendrils like a child.

“Use what on me?” There their girl stood, with her adorable red bob of hair lopsided from sleeping on it as she rubbed her eye.

“Ohhh, just a fun little game!” Alastor looked at the little lady and gave a scheming smirk—the kind that had Husk’s stomach doing flips. “I’ll give you both ten seconds to get a headstart.” He grinned as his tendrils suddenly sprung out of the shadows, flicking and rippling through the air.

“Shit—move aside Niff!” Husk yelped as he skidded across the flooring, and Alastor was quick to give chase, the merriment drifting through out their manor.

[st-el-la-luna]

Thinking about @bluegiragi Monster AU

Specifically; Crow Harpy Gaz

He's such a sweet little thing, still as cheeky as ever, not one to back down from a fight.

When he sees you for the first time, his eyes widen imperceptibly. He tilts his head to one side, then the next, blinking curiously.

He realizes you've said something and he lets out a tiny coo in surprise before clearing his throat. He offers you a taloned hand and a smile. "Name's Gaz... Lovely to make your acquaintance."

He's definitely got bird like mannerisms. Bobs up and down when he's excited, bouncing from foot to foot. He always calls out when he sees you, unable to suppress the happy crowing when you walk into the room. Usually, just your name or some term of endearment, occasionally accompanied by a horrid melody of chirps and tweets (crows are not known for their musical ability).

His wings were always his pride and joy, but he takes even better care of them now, even when deployed. One day, when you both were back from leave, you complimented his wings.

"They look so glossy and soft! You've been taking care of them, haven't you, pretty bird?"

And oh how he preens. He practically melts.

Pretty bird. Pretty bird. Pretty bird.

He wants to hear you say it again. And again. And again. And again. And-

He gets the best products he can, enlisting the other members of the Task force (yes, even Ghost) to help him with his wing care. The feathers shine like they never have before.

Whenever you're around, Gaz will stand a little straighter. Puff out his chest. Raise his wings slightly and stretch them out just a bit. Feathers fluffing. You never fail to compliment him and he never fails to preen and to coo.

He starts bringing you things. Not to you, not directly at least. But to your barracks. You're able to figure out who it is easily enough.

"When I laid down to sleep last night I found this big rock on my bed, hurt like hell." You say off handedly one morning in the mess hall.

Ghost chastises you for not checking your surroundings. Soap laughs at you and your misfortune. Price asks if you're okay. Gaz deflates a little.

Ever since, the gifts are left on your night table.

You find small things at first. Stray bottle caps, shiny rocks, an old penny. Then, he becomes a little more bold.

Flowers, and berries and seashells and glass. He only realizes what's happening– that he's courting you– when you approach him with a container of brownies.

"What's this for?" He asks as you set it in his hands.

"You're always getting me things," you say with a smile. "Figured it's time I give you something too."

He tries to deny it. Really, he does. Cheeks burning, feathers puffed out. Tells you he has no idea what you're talking about. But then you set your hand on his and offer him a smile that has him weak in the knees.

"No use in lying to me, pretty bird. I know you too well for that."

He caves and accepts the brownies with a smile.

The gifts increase tenfold. No longer left shyly on your bedside. He seeks you out. Presenting you with the gifts like a cat bringing its owner a mouse. His chest puffed out, shoulders back, wings out. He's showing off.

He loves it.

What he loves even more is the way you coo at him and thank him. Your smile is genuine every time.

He starts bringing you things. Expensive things. Gourmet chocolates. Rings. Small jewels.

One morning, at breakfast, he takes your hand in his and fastens a bracelet around it like this is a normal thing to do.

Soap makes fun of him for it. Gaz doesn't even get the chance to be mad at the werewolf. Not when you press a little kiss to his cheek and thank him so sweetly. You tell him he doesn't need to spend money on you. He tells you he wants to.

One day, after a particularly hard mission, Gaz returns to his bunk and all but collapses in bed. There's a plate of cookies and a handmade bracelet waiting for him on his nightstand. And a little note with your sweet words of encouragement.

Immediately his fatigue is gone.

He's out of his room, hurrying through the hallways. Wings fluttering so much he's lifting a bit off the floor.

He slams your door open without knocking. You're lying in bed, reading. You jump, startled, blinking up at him in surprise.

"Kyle! You scared me!"

He's on you in a heartbeat. Arms and wings wrapping around you like they'll never let you go.

If ever you were unsure about his feelings for you, you weren't now. Now with the way he melts against you, pressing so close, so tight, it's like he wants to become one.

"Can... Can I... Can I please?"

He asks, breathless, eyes on your lips. His mouth falls open slightly and he lets out a stuttering breath as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. You nod.

Gaz wastes no time. The kiss starts out sweet, soft and chaste. He peppers these kisses all over your face. Your cheeks, your forehead, your temples, you nose, your chin, your eyelids. Nowhere is safe.

But the kisses soon become demanding. All tongue and teeth. Hot and wet and desperate. Like he needs you like he needs the air he breathes. Like he needs you to live.

"You're mine, right?" He whispers against your lips, voice gentle, eyes pleading. "Only mine?"

"Only yours," you whisper back, a hand stroking the feathers of his wings. "And you're mine... My pretty bird."

Gaz preens as he dives in for another kiss.

Your pretty bird...

Yeah. He decides as he pushes you down onto the bed, tongue licking desperately at yours. Yeah, he can live with that.

Please reblog to support my writing!

Masterlist

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Hazbin Hotel Headcanons

Bird-like traits Lucifer x Reader

@literallurker and @willowaudreykeyeswas tell me about their birds, and I got inspired thinking, wow, that sounds like something Lucifer would do

Random Things Being His Baby If you come home with anything you may or may not talk to in a baby voice, he thinks it is your two's baby. A stuffie, a new duck, an animal, a new kitchen appliance, even a new car, he will talk to it and treat it like a baby. Even if you two talk about having another child besides just Charlie till you pop out a child or adopt one, he will make any excuse to call something shared between you two a baby.

Nesting He loves to make your bed the most comfy place ever. He has over ten pillows, blankets at least four at a time, and stuffed animals—they are your children, so they are all there. He wants it to be warm and comfortable, so it is harder for you to get up and leave him in the morning. God forbid you are uncomfortable outside of home, though. He will bend backward to conjure up all the luxury comfort items he can so you can be comfortable. He will not stand for his Duckie to be unhappy.

Shiny & Jiggly Objects He is obsessed with keys, bells, mirrors, jewelry, and other fun items. He loves to cover you in the world's riches because it shows that you are his queen and makes you so eye-catching. He also loves the sound of bells and looking at himself in the mirror. He loves to look at you and know where you are, so he would undoubtedly enchant a mirror beauty and the beast style to know where you are and see your pretty face.

Singing Lucifer loves to sing for and with you. He can be doing the most mundane tasks while singing away. He can build a duck singing, showering, or ignoring Alastor singing. He loves it, and singing with him makes him happy, especially if you learn songs for him. He also loves making up random songs together. When you hum a tune, he mad-libs some words, and you continue, he is so giddy. Even if none of it makes sense, he is happy you cared enough to listen.

Preening He only lets people he trusts preen his feathers; it was such a sacred thing between him and Lilith that he feels awkward about it now. Suppose you offer and learn though he is happy as can be. If you mess up a few times, he might whine and cry, even avoid you until the pain dies. He still loves the closeness. Once you are a certified preening expert, he likes to use it as a wind-down time, though be careful because it could also lead to some other downtime. He enjoys your soft coos and gentle touch no matter what type of down you two choose.

Biting/Nipping Lucifer bites when he is angry or frustrated, and he will also do it when he wants attention, so which bite you're going to get is a catch-22. He does like to leave love marks on you, though, to show you are taken. Of course, he will talk about it with you first before he ever does it. He really likes biting your ears or fingers, anything to get a giggle and a breathy noise out of you. However, he also likes to make your breath hitch and stutter.

[breannasfluff]

Molting Time - P2

Legend, Hyrule, and Wild sit in the backyard of Legend’s house. It makes it easier to pick the loose feathers while preening and blues, yellows, and browns are scattered across the grass from the light breeze.

Ravio comes out the back door, carrying a tray of drinks. His wings shine a blue-purple in the sunlight. How does he keep them so sleek when Legend is gone? Is someone else helping him preen?

The vet winces as he tugs a feather too hard at the thought. Ravio doesn’t deserve to have poorly cared-for wings when Legend is gone. Even if he is wearing the vet’s feathers in the ear cuff. He didn’t address it the last time he was back. With the addition of Wild as a flockmate, a lot was going on. Maybe he should.

Yet, for all Legend is the hero of courage, the thought of talking about…feelings? Relationships? He'd rather fly through a dust storm.

Ravio sets the tray down by the group. “I brought drinks!” Then he looks them over. “Molting is never fun.”

Legend takes a drink but keeps his eyes on Ravio. “When did you molt?”

“Oh, it was while you were gone. Zelda was so sweet, she offered to help with the back of my wings.”

Legend’s grip on the glass tightens and he puts it down before he breaks it. “Did she.”

Zelda helping Ravio is—objectively—fine. She helps Legend with his wings and he helps her if he’s around. In Hyrule, relying on others to help with molting is expected. Many birds deal with it and another pair of hands makes it easier.

Ravio, though, said that preening during molting was only for bonded and close family. Despite this, he still helped Legend when he was molting. And he wears Legend’s feathers, so they are a step closer to being bonded. The wording might not match up exactly between the two realms, but the intent is clear. Preening during molting is only for those with a close bond.

So why was Zelda helping Ravio? Sure, they know each other, but not well.

Ravio is oblivious to his swirling thoughts, passing out the rest of the drinks. “Wild, Hyrule, would you like some help with preening?”

Legend gives an undignified squawk that has the others staring at him. Ravio should be helping him preen! Not the others! They might be flock, but Ravio wears Legend’s feathers behind his ear.

“Legend? Are you okay?” Ravio’s wings are still on his back; no inner secondaries flashing.

The bowerbird works his jaw. It wouldn’t be very heroic to throw his lemonade at Ravio’s stupid, oblivious head.

Wild rolls his shoulders and stretches his wings. “No, thank you. I don’t like people touching my wings.”

Ravio nods easily enough.

Hyrule looks between the two bowerbirds and something in his expression shifts. It’s the same look he gets when he’s about to cause someone no end of grief.

“Well, I would love some help preening my wings, Ravio! No reason to suffer if you are offering, right?” The brown thrasher throws a pointed look at Legend.

He seethes. Yet Ravio just chirps and moves behind Hyrule, fingers sinking into brown feathers. Legend seethes some more. That’s not fair! Why didn’t the merchant ask him? Why is he suddenly so—blasé about helping?

Legend has been gone for a little while…does he think the bowerbird isn’t interested in him? He’s never given the vet his feathers back, actually. Sure, Legend never addressed it, but Ravio didn’t bring it up either.

Across from him, Hyrule gives a coo of pleasure. “That feels so much better, thank you.”

Legend’s wings flutter, spreading without his consent to show inner secondaries. Ravio’s eyes don’t leave Hyrule’s back.

Wild, however, notices. “Vet, you are turning your favorite color.”

“What?” He finally pries his eyes off Ravio. “No, I’m not.”

“Sure are. Red as an apple.”

“I am not!”

Hyrule titters and Legend is starting to understand the urge to murder someone you love.

Nesting is a bit of a mess with molting birds. Wild retreats to the nook upstairs, where he and Four get into a fight over bedding. One night, Hyrule nests with Legend and Hyrule, but the next he goes to bother Wild. Four takes offense to being booted from the nook and wiggles uninvited between Legend and Ravio.

Neither of them would push him out of the nest, of course, but the addition of Four also means the addition of pointed comments.

“There’s too much red and blue and it clashes. You’re lucky the walls are a neutral color. Hylia above, why do bowerbirds have such awful taste in colors!”

Legend is tetchy with his own molt. “Look who’s squawking! You hogged all the colors on your wings! They’re—gauche!”

Four shrieks and jumps on Legend, who snarls his own challenge back. Feathers fly. Ravio beats a hasty retreat.

The next morning, Sky is absent, as is Warriors. Time and Twilight mumble something about supplies and Wind books a hasty retreat behind them.

Maybe Ravio doesn’t know that Legend is interested. That must be it. Flashing secondaries may be mostly involuntary, but it’s a hylian thing. Ravio explained that in Lorule, there was a focus on fluffing the scapular feathers at the base of the wings to show the skin beneath. It is something rarely seen outside molting, so it makes sense.

Yes, the bowerbird must not be understanding Legend’s intentions. He resolves to fix this problem.

Left alone in his house with Ravio—and three cranky, molting passerines—the vet enacts his plan to gain back the merchant’s attention. His wings itch even more than normal, but he hasn’t accepted help from Hyrule or Wild. Ravio hasn’t yet offered.

“Wild,” he says at breakfast, angling so the back of his wings are facing Ravio as he makes them pancakes.

“Legend.”

The vet stares because he didn’t think further than this. He needs an excuse— “Want to do some wing stretches with me?”

“In the kitchen?”

“…yes.” Shit, he didn’t think this through.

Wild shares a look with Hyrule, then rolls his eyes. “Sure. Wing stretches. Why don’t you show me?” His blue wings make no move to join in.

Good enough. Legend stretches his wings out and up—thank Hylia for his high ceilings—and fluffs his feathers. The scapularis puff as well, showing skin. Even in the warmth of the kitchen it’s chilly to do so.

Wild is not watching him, or his wings. He’s looking over Legend’s shoulder and promptly bursts out laughing. The vet whips around, but Ravio’s eyes are fixed on the pancake on the griddle. His wings are a little poofy, but he’s not looking at Legend’s stretch.

The vet can’t help his hiss, annoyed, angry! and stomps out of the room.

Behind him, still laughing, Wild calls, “What about the wing stretches?”

He doesn’t answer, because the only words that come to mind are curses.

Four ditches them to go find a spot for a dirt bath. Hyrule and Wild move to the roof, wings spread to soak the sun and grumble at each other about itchy feathers. Legend finds himself alone with Ravio for the first time since the Chain got there.

He can’t help the way his wings droop, because the merchant hasn’t looked once when he shows off the back of his wings. He’s nothing but courteous to Wild and Hyrule and only winces when Four insults his rabbit hood. Yet through all of it, he hasn’t offered Legend help preening.

Does…Ravio not like him anymore? Has he been gone too long? Did he take too long to say something?

The two have retreated to the nestroom and Legend messes with his feathers. Molting is the worst. He looks terrible. Maybe that’s the problem; Ravio only sees a scraggly bird with ugly, patchy wings.

The thought of Ravio changing his mind hurts more than he cares to admit. When did the merchant become so important to him? Sure, he gave Ravio his feathers, but it was a spur-of-the-moment decision. He didn’t have to have a conversation about it, he left on a new adventure.

Was the bowerbird unhappy with what little Legend could offer? He gives a sad whistle and lets his hands fall from his feathers.

“What’s wrong?” Ravio crawls closer, his wings sleek and well-cared for.

Legend glances at him, eyes catching on the ear cuff. Two yellow feathers and one red stand out against the merchant’s dark hair. A promise never addressed.

In the end, the hero of courage is nothing more than a coward. “It’s my feathers,” he lies. “They itch.”

“Want some help preening?”

It’s what he’s wanted since he got home, but the offer tastes of failure. “…yes,” he tells the bedding.

Ravio chirps his ascent and hops off the bed. Drawers open and close and then he’s back, pushing blankets aside. “I’ve got some cream that should help the itching. Oh, and here.” He shoves a small box toward Legend. “It’s a little trinket I picked up a while back. Seems like now’s a good time to give it to you.”

Ravio settles behind him, fingers sinking into his feathers. His touch is light as he combs, carefully tugging on each shaft to check for loose ones.

The bowerbird’s wings loosen at the attention, relaxing slightly. He picks up the box. “If it’s something blue—”

Ravio titters and it sounds…nervous. “I’m afraid it is. Blue. Sorry.”

Legend pulls the lid off the box. Inside is an ear cuff, complete with three purple-blue feathers.

[yandere-kokeshi]

Hi i hope you're doing well

Can i request A Hawks with a Darling That has a Quirk called "Angel wings" they can manifest 6 wings(they are also Bigger than his)

Warnings: reader has Stockholm Syndrome, talks about heights; if you have a fear of heights, don’t read; tracking device, and bird traits (slightly nsfw towards the end, tried to keep it as sfw). 

Authors note: Of course!! This was so incredibly fun to write; sorry if it’s short, i wrote this real quick while eating dinner. Feel free to request again, ☺️

He thinks it’s so cool!! He's extremely happy that someone relates to him about the struggles with wings: how annoying small rooms are, how people are touchy with your wings, and the chilly air brushing through your hair while you fly. 

Now, he only has two wings, but you? His most angelic and squishable darling, who has six of them? You are hardcore. He’ll be asking a lot of questions, even if he knows the answer: “Do you... lay eggs?” -- “How many feathers do you shed per month?” -- “How much do they weigh? Wait! Can you carry me with them?”

He loves to help you groom them, clipping off the damages/non-usable ones and makes sure to be as gentle as he can. Keigo will also pry in the showers with you, wanting to wash your wings as they are huge; I mean, you can’t get all of the dirt and dust off with one quick shower, why not have two more hands who can help you better? 

When you preen, he will there, helping you sort them out. Your feathers uneven and uncomfortable? He’ll gladly rearrange them to a perfect order, making sure to press light kisses on the wings when he’s done. Having a bad back day? Don’t worry! You sweet winged-husband has back and wing lotion ready when he gets home, ordering your favorite take-out. You have scratches in the middle of your wings and can’t reach it? He’s there to help you, itching it while blowing on your wings to see them flap. 

This man uses the nicknames ‘angel’, sparrow, birdy, darling, and precious; if he’s in a teasing mood, he’ll call you his chicken nugget. 

Keigo loves to touch your pretty wings, brushing his calloused fingers through the silky white feathers. Not only will he ask to lay on them, but have the ability to smoother his face in them. 

Once he knows it’s ‘safe for you’ to leave the shared home of yours, both of you will be going on flying-trips and hang out on high buildings. Though, don’t roam too far, Hawks implanted a chip into your wings and if he sees you fly past the ‘barrier’ he set for you? He’s gonna be a bit upset.

When your feathers fall, which is normal, he will collect them and put them in a safe-keeping box in the closet near your bed; after a while, he will start to leave his feathers around on purpose, hoping you’ll take them and do the same thing.

Cuddling is quite a mess, but it works in the end. Hawks absolutely loves to be held, especially after a hard day of working; the moment your wings wrap around his, blocking out anything outside of view and the small talks you two do, it makes him feel all butterflies inside. Though, don’t be surprised to wake up in the morning, him clinging onto you like a koala... naked. 

The slight bird traits you both share make his heart speed a bit. Whenever you flap your wings or coo when you’re excited, how your feathers slightly sharpen when your annoyed, or when you stare at something a bit too long, examining the object whilst cocking your head. 

Wing and face-care routines! You bet that he’ll be massaging special oils onto your wings, digging gently into the muscles as he tickles your cheek with his own feathers. 

If you do have a rut, he’ll be taking good care of you; watching how your behavior changes, your scent, and stress level highs up. He’ll request a total month off, saying it’s a ‘family emergency’.  

—

Thank you so much for requesting!!

Here's my masterlist for more content. Stay well!

[theratlivinginyourcouchcushions]

Equivalence AU Mabel ideas!

I wanted to experiment with God!zar(?) Mabel, bc I hadn’t seen any designs for it yet. I was also going to try drawing Mabel in her super-demon-y form, (which is apparently blinding white with abyss for eyes and tiny burning pupils) but was two invested in the outfit to really lean into it.

Now for some of my headcannons!

While drawing Mabel, I started thinking about her bird wings, and what kind of traits she might have similar to animals (like dipper and cats) and then it hit me. BIRDS.

An entire class of animals characterized by their ability to DEFY GRAVITY FOR HOURS TO DAYS AT A TIME. (And the ones that don’t are pretty cool too) and I got to thinking about how cool birds are, to achieve this through nothing but MILLIONS of years of evolution. (My thoughts on this are not very organized, but I hope you get the gist.) so anyway, what cool things do birds do, and wouldn’t it be cool if Mabel did them too?

Mating dance. Since it’s pretty much canon that Mizar is still alloromantic and allosexual, wouldn’t it be goofy if she would do a funky little dance when trying to ask people out? (She definitely did this for Henry as soon as she was corporeal for him)

Roosting. Basically making nests in high places out of things she likes, probably perches in it to preen her feathers. (I originally had a similar hc for Alcor, but whatever, they’re demons. But maybe he roosts like a bat instead:) )

Preening. She has a set of ridges under her lip (in front of her gums) for preening her feathers. Her loved ones have little tools to mimic them, and help her get hard-to-reach places. (She often falls asleep during this, similar to Dipper with his hair.)

Migration. I’m still not super organized with this one, but she might try to take off during the winter for long periods of time before coming back, or maybe just circling around to get out energy. Either that or she just tells people that she’s flying south for the winter when she doesn’t want to hang out with them. (This was also a hc meant for Dipper, but now I’m wondering if he tries to hibernate during winter.)

So those were my Equivalence AU headcannons, now for the design choices I made!

I talked a little bit about them at the start, but I still want to talk about it so, here we go!

The fashion was all based on @that-ghosts-art / @that-ghost-pal ‘s Mabel/Mizar designs, and I was very happy for the chance to test out different fashion styles, as well as the braid and shifting tattoos. (For the tattoos I just drew whatever I felt like at the time, and I added a scorpion barb at the end of the braid just for fun.) I added gold-tipped feathers to the wings, and some extra pink bits in her eyes (except for the angry one) I also gave her a crown instead of a top hat.

For God!zar(?) I tried to give her wings a more feather-y feeling than God!cor’s, and made the chest star more like her symbol on the cipher wheel. I muted the colors, and messed with her crown bc God!cor’s hat is a halo, and I didn’t want to copy that directly. I struggled with the hair color for a while before deciding to just bite the bullet, so please excuse any eye scorching color choices (It was originally planned for galaxy hair, but that was given to the wings, and I’m not great with overlapping colors)

Thanks for reading this far into my ramblings, and take a few moments to marvel at the existence of birds (and bats!)

Edit: I’m just now realizing that I forgot to draw the fire.

[alexanderlightweight]

I think you're one of my favourite author in here, but I respect you even more for your incredible consistency and your never-ending ideas.

Would you like to write something related to Winged!Alec where Nephilim have some behaviour similar to the ones of the birds ?

To be more precise, petting birds on some areas can produce arousal and be inconfortable for them when it's not from a same species partner, or how Nephilim can come from a mission with messy and torn painful feathers that he needs help to arrange and oil. Or even how some of them make themselves a nest with items that matters to them ?

Would be wonderful ☀️

this is so sweet so thank you! ahaha, i try to consistently respnd but some weeks are less and some weeks are more. i feel like this has been a good week though so i'm happy ^_^

i love wingfic so much and this and i had to figure out where i wanted to go with it but here we are! the oil glands are located in the shoulders of each of a nephilim's wings in this. one for each because of how massive their wings are.

the oil can also act as whetstone oil since nephilim wings go adamas in a fight and really intense nephilim sometimes harvest their partners oil to sharpen their weapons with as a sign of intimacy/devotion.

is magnus going to polish his jewelry with alec's wing oil when he finds out? maybe... will there be eventually other uses? magnus sure as fuck thinks so. i got super carried away with this lol but it's in the most fragile of poisons verse.

magnus is pretending to be a damsel in distress because it's incredibly endearing to him how protective and concerned and sweet alec is over him. also because alec still trusts and melts for magnus and magnus is enjoying this a lot

i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

-

Magnus frowns at the alerts he has set throughout New York and how a handful have gone off near the boundary of Manhattan.

Manhattan is much harder to keep track of than the rest of New York and the East Coast combined.

The angelic core there is too powerful, too temperamental and possessive to let Magnus get his hooks into it. It grates on him now in a way that was only a minor annoyance before. Because Alexander is in Manhattan and despite enjoying how much his boy dotes on him, Magnus dislikes not having tabs on Alexander at all times.

It creates an itch that Magnus can’t ignore, but he does, for now.

There’s no fire messages , no texts or calls assuring Magnus that he’s fine or that the rifts are closed.  He’s about to just portal himself out there, identity be damned, when his wards chime with greedy hunger and Magnus feels the difference.  Magnus is at the balcony in a moment, stepping through hellfire to get from one side of his lair to the other in a mere instant and then he opens the doors. 

Alexander is a dripping, bedraggled mess and he looks up at Magnus guiltily — as if Magnus would be upset by such a mess — from where he crashed into the strands of demon pearls Magnus was curing in the storm.  It’s hardly his shadowhunter’s fault, the storm itself makes them hard to see and Alexander normally isn’t this tired when trying to land.

“Are you hurt?” Magnus asks first, pulling Alexander up and through the wide doors and summing a towel before he frowns, he’s fairly certain he should use magic rather than fabric, but he’s not sure Alexander will allow that.

“Sore.” Alexander murmurs and he hesitates and then he leans forward and — face still damp and with a bit of sludge that can only be made from storm water and demon ash on his temple — leans forward and carefully nuzzles Magnus’ cheek. “Wanted to see you.”

Magnus stops himself from cooing and then he pulls Alexander over to a large preening chair, one that his boy blinks at in weary surprise. As if Magnus didn’t get the information and furniture he’d need for a winged consort the moment he got home after their first meeting.

“You’ll help me?” Alexander asks, wings fluttering and demon pearls falling around the room, as if the thought of doing it himself is too much to bear. Magnus bites back a chuckle because he would destroy realms for this privilege and Alexander thinks it a chore.

“Always, Alexander.” He promises as he helps get the remains of Alexander’s leather vest off. It’s easy enough and already damaged so Magnus just uses magic to slice through the leather straps on the back and lets it all fall off.

It’s with a gentle motions that Magnus begins to carefully straighten the feathers he can easily touch, using magic to carefully clean away the stormwater and debris. It’s when he’s daring to reach deeper, to straighten the pins and fluff closer to the skin that Alexander shakes and goes still.

Magnus stops, curious and concerned from the brittle way Alexander is holding himself.

“Did I hurt you, darling?” Magnus asks, carefully massaging the spot on Alexander’s shoulder that made him tense. “Are you sore?”

Alexander makes a sound like a muffled whimper and Magnus frowns, digging his thumb in gently, but insistently and a moment later he’s surprised, pulling back his  fingers, coated in a thick, clear oil. Alexander makes a muffled sound, like he’s biting his own lip and the back of his neck and ears are a bright pink.  Suddenly, Magnus knows exactly what he’s been doing and just where Alexander’s been letting him touch without a single protest.

Magnus rubs his fingers together thoughtfully and then, he reaches out and carefully spreads the oil across one of the bedraggled feathers from Alexander’s fight and flight through the storm.

“Isn’t this better?” Magnus murmurs, soothing like this was his intention all along. And it is, now that he knows where Alexander’s oil glands are and that his boy already welcomes his touch. That this isn’t an honor Magnus has to coax from him, it’s one he’s already been given.

Alexander turns his head, eyes wide and cheeks pink as he nods, clearly unsure of what to do with the sudden intimacy, or even that his body is letting Magnus play with it as he is. Magnus knows enough from Ragnor that nephilim very rarely let even other nephilim touch their wings. They certainly don’t allow just anyone to help them preen and Magnus is aware that they’ll turn on fellow nephilim in an instance, if one takes too many liberties.

Magnus massages the gland again and he smirks, not bothering to hide the dark,  hungry gleam to his eyes as he coaxes the oil until his fingers are dripping and he possessively straightening each and every feather he touches. Alexander’s wings are fluttering like the most delicate of gossamer wings — instead of the strong, bone breaking wings that they are — and every time Magnus pets him for more oil, his breathing becomes heavier, more ragged.

His primary feathers are a mess, but magic and the oil make it an easy fix and then Magnus can dig his fingers into the soft downy feathers at the base of Alexander’s wings and scritch.  Alexander goes boneless and it’s only because Magnus has seen preening chairs and made one with magic, that he doesn’t fall forward into a slump.  Alexander has his chin hooked on the soft padded leather of the chair holding him up, arms hugging the back of it tightly, as if it will give him the strength to endure Magnus’ touches without melting completely.

“Am I doing this right?” Magnus teases, dragging slick fingers along some of Alexander’s secondary feathers, shuffling them into their proper places with smooth touches and little tendrils of magic.

“Mmm.” Is all Alexander can get out, but his head nods and his wings flutter before deliberately pressing back into Magnus’ hands. He turns, cheeks a delicious pink and pupils blown, face resting against the leather and lips bruised from how much he’s been biting them to stifle his noises.  Someday, he’ll make as many noises as Magnus wants to hear from him — which are all of them — but for now, Magnus settles his face into a softer, less hungry look and reaches out.

It’s an accident, of course, that Alexander’s oil is all over his fingers still, or that he leaves shiny streaks where he gently cups Alexander’s cheek.

“I’m glad.” Magnus tells him, thumb lingering on Alexander’s bottom lip, “I don’t want to hurt you, darling.”

Alexander melts against him, shaking as if he’s completely overwhelmed and Magnus reminds himself to look further into the anatomy of winged humans. He knew to expect some reaction once he realized they were Alexander’s wing glands, but this is beyond anything he could have imagined.

Fire itches down his spine and he wonders who else has had this privilege.  He’ll have to ask carefully, when Alexander is less easy to distress and then, well. Magnus is very good at creating accidents to befall anyone who dared touch and look at his boy like this.

It doesn’t matter if he didn’t belong to Magnus then, he does now and that’s all that matters. 

[phantasmiafxndom]

can i have some hcs of kisaki getting his wings preened by his loving owner?

Hybrid Au info

• Despite definitely needing help with his feathers, Tetta is highly resistant to any attempts to offer it. No matter how kind you are, he doesn't want you to touch him like that... for a number of reasons, including the fear of making a fool of himself by reacting too much. So even when his wings are a mess of misaligned feathers and ruffled spots that he has no chance of reaching on his own, he's still trying to insist that he'll be just fine on his own.

• By the time you convince him to cooperate, he's looking increasingly uncomfortable with the whole idea. Tetta flinches when you first comb through his feathers, no matter how gentle the touch may be. He's telling himself that this is fine, that he needs to put up with it so you'll think better of him— and so that his wings will stay presentable. He's picky enough about the state of them that there's at least some merit in letting you do this, even though he's still dreading what might come of it.

• But slowly, Tetta starts to relax. The gentle touch is affecting him no matter how hard he tries not to acknowledge it. All of the petting convinces the bird part of his brain that you're taking care of him. Soon enough, little chirps start trying to escape. His shoulders slump, his wings spread open a little bit more to let you close, and his near-constant train of thought slows to almost nothing. He's not used to this kind of attention, and that means he has no defense prepared against how much it affects him.

[mochiwrites]

what are your favorite aspects of those ships? and headcanons pls :3

rubs my paws together >:3c I'm so very glad you asked!

starting with gripulse

I really love how like. impulse and grian are both very loyal people. and yk. they've both been betrayed in a life game, so if anyone understands wanting to be loyal but also scared of being betrayed again, it's them. I def think that on the first night the southlands were established, the two of them stayed up talking to each other about being afraid of working in a group, considering their wounds from third life. I'm picturing impulse sitting next to grian and grian like. resting his head against his shoulder and just... talking. eventually they move the discussion away from the life games and toward more mundane stuff. and they fall asleep like that.

biggri

GOD WHERE DO I START WITH THESE TWO... first of all, their evo history???? grian pranking bigb all the time???? man's had a big crush on bigb back in evo and he showed affection by pranking him. like the pesky bird he is. and in my angst filled ways, I like to think that they agreed to talk things out after they beat the ender dragon and then, yknow, grian kinda... disappeared. and bigb was devasted :< buT THEN THERE'S THE LIFE GAMES.... AND DOUBLE LIFE.... AND OUGH..... grian with bigb and the two of them meeting up (desert duo are divorced here and not a couple, so miss me with that "grian cheated on scar" shit, and I think ren and bigb leaned more toward platonic soulmates???? so :>) grian has absolutely stolen bigb's sweaters thank you. bigb comes to hermitcraft and everyone is teasing him and grian thank you.

gleo

GRIAN AND CLEO MY LOVES !!!!! I think they need to team together in a life game thanks. they'd rule the world together. I just think that cleo would sit and giggle at grian as they watch him goof around and pull his pranks and grian gives them little gifts like a feather or a brush for their hair and building materials and !!!!! also cleo's another one who knows about betrayal, who understands what it's like to be stabbed in the back. SO. also. the entire prank war. grian and cleo were kissing on the side ty. he feeds into her chaos <3

griskall

UGH SAHARA BUDDIES. grian watches iskall do redstone under the one (1) precaution that he has no potatoes on him. and grian will tease him with diorite and omg grian flying around in iskall's big cave base!!!!!!!!! also: grian letting iskall preen his wings and iskall letting grian watch him as he messes with his bionic eye. and just. the two of them planning things together, and having fun little talks while building or goofing off. ALSO THE CUDDLES!!!!!! grian wrapping iskall up in his wingsssss

gren

firstly that ship name makes it so hard to find grian and ren stuff on here omg. ANYWAYS, I love the idea of grian and ren always being on opposite sides of some kind of feud. season 6 prank war, 3rd life, king ren arc (even if uh. ren technically did hire grian, but grian still kind of went against him). but also they work really well together too!!!! it's a fun balance of ren getting waaay too into something and grian being the one to reel him back in, or grian coming up with a plan and ren going "yes and" in return. also big werewolf cuddling liddol bird man... ren is affectionate like a puppy and he loves flustering grian <333 AND GRIAN GIVING REN FASHION ADVICE...

[morroodle]

the birb strikes again!

I dont really have a full story for this funky lil dude but I do have some information about him!

Hes real short and overall just small because flying. Idk the exact height but im thinking around 4ft

He has naturally silent flight like an owl. Very convenient for being a ninja

His leggies get tired pretty quick from standing and walking but he can perch for hours, often even sleeping like that

Speaking of perching: he loves to perch. He will perch on anything and it's actually more comfortable for him than standing on flat surfaces. Favorite things to perch on: rafters, the outer walls of the monastery, the dragon head and sails of the bounty, people

Favorite people to perch on: Zane and Cole. Zane because he's sturdy, balanced and dosent complain about his claws (being made of metal has its perks). Cole because big comfy and barely notices his weight and he never mentions it. Both of them because tall.

He perches on Wu too but that's more an emotional thing than him actually being a good perch. Perching on Wus shoulder makes him feel safe because dad <3

At least Wu and potentially all the ninja have falconry gauntlets that they wear almost all the time. Morros talons are very sharp

Ears move with emotion. Why? Because I said so. Same reason for why the tail looks like that, it's just fun

He absolutely has funky bird instincts

His bed (nest) is a complete mess of blankets and pillows and things he stole and it is very comfy so long as you know where he hid the emergency knives

Goes mama bird mode on Lloyd sometimes. If his baby cousin has a nightmare he takes him to his nest and sleeps on top of him. Gotta keep the chick safe. His wings make good blankets <3

When he's comfortable with the ninja he likes to preen them. He won't admit that's what he's doing but they all know. He's actually really good at styling hair as a result. Hates kais hair gelled abomination with a burning passion

Very rare for him to allow others to preen him though, have to ask first and pretty much only Wu and Lloyd. Sometimes Zane but thats just cause he's good at it

Related note: he likes to look pretty. He puts effort into his appearance and takes very good care of himself, he likes accessories. Pretty bird <3

Don't call him pretty bird. He will kill you

Bird noises. Squawks, chips, coos and screeches. He sings sometimes too but only when he thinks he's alone

NO. TOUCH. TAIL. Or feets.

Will never admit it but he loves ear scritches

That's all I've got right now, I have some parts of a story and some lore but I don't wanna share until I have more. Should note that as of this point he is not a ghost, just a funky bird. I'm not sold on his design colors yet, especially his clothes and hair so that might change soon. Might also draw some versions with different colored feathers just for fun

[natadachoco]

a pretty good reunion

this is @twic0rd​‘s christmas gift exchange!! It’s a 3.5k words of a mumscarian injury fic set it an unknown timeline (after season 8). Technically it’s a hurt/comfort, but I’m not very good at hurting my boys so it’s mostly fluff. It starts off with established Scarian with pining Mumbo and ends with the three of them getting together. Enjoy!!

There are some things in this world that are self-evident.

Therefore, due having to put up with things like preening, being monitored all times by your adoptive keepers, and having to cut wing holes out of everything he wore, he was allowed to torment them as much as he wanted.

One, Grian had wings.

Two, Scar and Mumbo did not.

(He convenient ignored the fact that as a shapeshifter, Mumbo could have wings too, but he didn’t have the helicopter watchers that came with Grian’s wings, so they didn’t count.)

Mumbo’s roof made a terrible perch. The first few times he tried landing on it, his talons unsuccessfully grappled with the slick tile and it usually ended with him falling flat on his ass. Several more smashes into the balcony later — and a few grooves he definitely didn’t deliberately scratch into the roof — he got the hang of it. Still wasn’t a pleasant feeling under his feet, though.

He ignored the tutting, fussing voices in the back of his head. He was a bird on a mission: make Mumbo’s life a living hell for leaving him so lo— for generating so much lag. He'll have a fun surprise waiting for him when he finally logs back on. What to do?

Blue eyes lit up as an idea popped into his head. 

Leafiana. Treesia’s grafted clone, because if the hermits can transcend dimensions and hop into a new server, why can’t Treesia? 

Well. He can pretend, anyways.

Talons clicked against roof tile as he launched from his perch in the rough direction of a forest. Grian never really got the hang of using the coordinates embedded in his communicator properly, relying more on his avian instincts to guide him.

He flew until the yellowed grass of the plains gave over to the brighter, truer greens of the forest. Ferns squished under him as he landed. He grinned softly to himself when he felt the foliage against his feet. He loved building, exploring structure and design in a way that can’t really be done in 2D, but sometimes he just wanted to build a nest in the trees and sleep with only a canopy to protect him instead of in his giant mansions and super-future towers. 

“I keep getting distracted,” he muttered to himself. He was here to gather materials for Treesia 2.0, and that meant getting his axe out and doing some chopping. 

Thud. Crash. Whatever other sounds trees made when they crashed down in a forest. Grian stood back to admire his haul, grimacing at the thought of having to chop these oaks up even further so he can shove them in shulkers. He wiped the sweat from his brow with his wing, hands currently occupied with a very sharp tool, before grimacing at the sticky mess of dirt that was now on his brightly coloured feathers. He sighed. As if he hadn’t had enough preening to do when he got back. 

He looked at the felled logs. It was probably around ten stacks, but he remembered needing at least half a shulker box for Treesia, and he certainly didn’t want to be outdone by past Grian, so he sighed and resigned himself to spending the next hour chopping more wood.

He should’ve chosen his next tree more carefully. It only took one hit of the axe to do this, after all. 

A high-pitched scream echoed throughout the forest. He barely registered it was his own. Blood flowed steadily out of Grian’s scalp and onto the crumpled ferns below, saturating the dark earth underneath. He tried to lift a hand to stem the flow, but only now did he notice that the branch that cut a gash into his head and knocked him over was now crushing his arm and wing. It must’ve already been on the verge of breaking, and his axe hit was just the final straw, he thought blearily. If he continued thinking a mile a minute, the pain wouldn’t consume him. 

Too bad, the universe said. You’re gonna hurt anyways. Whatever adrenaline was keeping the pain at bay long enough for him to take in his situation before was not pulling its weight anymore. His back throbbed angrily and pain laced through his wings from being stuck in such unnatural positions, not to mention the giant tree branch that was still on top of him. Grian could swear that he could hear the other Watchers laughing at his plight. Imagine what you could have done if you didn’t leave us, he bet they were whispering. Leaving to frolic among mortals. 

His communicator. He needed his communicator.

The bright light of the screen shocked a migraine into him. Great. He probably had a concussion on top of all his other injuries, too. I hope I didn’t type it wrong, he thought, just before black overtook his vision. He was always terrible at using coordinates.

[help me]

[1083, -3872]

Scar’s communicator beeped. He glanced down, lit up by a nearby beacon beam with a pickaxe in hand. He had just been gathering more andesite for a new build. 

His heart stopped. 

His pickaxe clattered to the floor as he quickly grabbed his rockets and set off in the direction of a certain pesky bird. If his boyfriend wanted help with a build, or even just to prank someone, he’d send a little more than just a depressingly short message and a set of coordinates. It was up to him to make sure he was okay; no one else was online except for an afk Tango. Even if it was a prank, Scar couldn’t possibly leave him alone.

His worry grew as he neared the coordinates. He was nowhere near any Hermit’s base; in fact, he had been flying over ocean for who knows how long. Had Grian typed them wrong? 

He looked at the coordinates again, trying to think of where it could possibly be, if not here. The easiest mistake to make is forgetting a negative, a mistake he knew from experience was far too easy to make. He racked his brain trying to remember what was around -1100, -3900. Mumbo’s base was within a few hundred blocks. It wasn’t that close, but it was all he could remember. 

Hopefully it was the right decision, he thought. Grian had been waiting for him long enough.

This time, a forest faded into view as he flew in. You can have accidents in forests, right? Scar knew he had enough issues navigating their dark, not Scar Safe premises. He dived downwards into the canopy when he reached the coordinates, only realising a little bit too late that that may have not been a very good idea.

A branch caught him in the stomach and he wheezed. A sucker punch was better than this. He panted as he caught his breath, hanging over the branch like he was laundry on a clothesline. He opened his eyes to see if he could spot some familiar feathers, but his hard-won air was forced out of him once again as he took in the scene before him.

"What in the world, Grian!?"

Grian was usually a sight for sore eyes, but the blood and the unnaturally crooked wings made his eyes sore. 

"Hang on, I'm coming to get you!" He shouted. He was half aware that Grian was probably out cold and couldn't hear him, but he felt the odd need to say it anyway. It was like there was an audience watching him. 

He wriggled off the branch and landed beside Grian with an 'oof'. He grimaced at the squelch of the ground, nearly gagging when he lifted his hands and saw that they were covered in brick red dust. The top layer of the blood must've dri-

How long has he been here? 

Spurred on by the icy realisation, he tried to lift the tree branch up to no avail. Never had he cursed being one of the physically weakest Hermits so much. He rummaged through his inventory to see if there was anything he could use, panic setting in, and then remembering that in his haste, he hadn't even thought to get healing potions or even a golden apple.

He bit his lip as he wondered whether going back to the shopping district to grab some potions would be worth the time sacrifice. Just as he was about to leave, his communicator beeps again. 

[MumboJumbo joined the game.]

What?

Shaking his head, he blinked a few more times to make sure he read the message properly. 

Nope, still the same. 

Any other time, he would be celebrating the return of the mustached man, but he was in quite the worrying situation right now. He could make use of this, though.

[mumbo can you get some healing poitons please?] 

[-1083, -3872]

Inhale.

[sure thing] 

And exhale.

Help was coming, and it was someone they had missed very, very, much. 

In the meantime, though, he had a head wound to bandage. 

"Ugh, my wings," Grian muttered. His head was pounding something awful but he had to get up, get this branch off him…

He paused. 

The weight he felt on him wasn’t the branch; it was a blanket. He gingerly felt around his throbbing head. It was bandaged. His arm and wings too, though the latter was done far more messy and crushed a few more of his feathers than he would've liked. Who had…?

The neat sorting system and redstone residue everywhere told him he was inside Mumbo's base. But it couldn't be Mumbo, because Mumbo wasn't her–

"Oh thank goodness, Grian! You're awake!" Scar appeared at the door, smiling his massive smile, crow's feet appearing in the outer corners of his eyes. He grabbed a cup of water from the bedside table and thrust it at Grian, spilling half of it over the blankets in the process. 

They took a minute to stare at the mess.

"I never think I can get any clumsier, but I beat my own records every time I move," Scar moped. 

Grian would be a lot more annoyed if he didn't look so genuinely upset, already grabbing a cloth to mop up the excess and moving to grab another blanket from the closet. While Scar was here, though, he might as well get his questions out of the way. "Did you help me? Also, did you move me to Mumbo's base?"

Scar blinked, pausing with the new blanket in hand. "Well, yes, but Mumbo also–" 

Before he could finish his sentence, and before Grian could process the bombshell Scar just dropped on him, the door burst open and a familiar mustachio'ed face stared back at him. 

"Uh… hi, Grian."

Silence. 

"It sure is nice to see you after so long. It's been a while hasn't it? You know, I wasn't really planning on being gone for so long–"

Grian was almost in awe at how fast the man could ramble when stressed. "Hi Grian? Really? That's the first thing you say to me when I haven't seen your mustache in months?"

Mumbo blushed, sheepish, an embarrassed hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. He opened his mouth, probably to try and mount a meager defence, but Grian ignored him and turned to Scar instead. “Thanks, Scar. I don’t know how I managed to get myself in such a messy situation.”

Scar moved to drag his old blanket from him and put the new one over top. Mumbo flinched when his battered body came into view, bandages around every part of him and tinged brown from dried blood. It seemed to spark something in Mumbo, though, as he quickly blathered about getting ‘supplies’ and ran off, back out the door he just came from. 

“Well that was weird.”

“Grian, Mumbo was actually quite helpful in getting you back here and patching you up, so maybe you can cut him some slack? I’m sure he didn’t leave us for so long,” Scar said. Grian snapping at Mumbo wasn’t the most warranted, but he could understand. Missing someone for so long only to be greeted like nothing had changed was always going to be jarring, and Grian wasn’t the only one who wanted something more from their long-awaited reunion. 

“I know, I know, I just thought his coming back would be a lot more fun, you know? Like, fireworks and a feast with the entire server, not him having to rescue me from a tree.” He groaned at the last word, only now having the time to feel embarrassed about the entire ordeal. “How did I lose to a tree!?”

Scar laughed at his flush and quickly pecked him on the cheek, his relief from before morphing into affection. His grin grew wider when Grian blushed even harder, throwing his hands up over his face before quickly remembering why sudden movements were not in his repertoire right now. 

His yelp of pain brought a worried furrow to Scar’s eyebrows. He gently took Grian’s injured arm and inspected the bandages, which were already starting to come off. Unwinding them made him flinch at the medley of bruises hidden just underneath, most of which were turning nasty purples. The cuts and scrapes were cleaned out, but the dressings kept them wet and disgusting to look at. 

Grian was still as Scar wiped away the old disinfectant and applied a new layer, the foul scent making his sensitive avian nose want to wither and die. The re-done bandages looked worse than they started, though, wound too tight in some places and not tight enough in others. Scar sat back, gazing at his handiwork, and sighed. “Mumbo did your bandages the first time ‘round.” 

“I could tell,” Grian laughed. Mumbo, despite his overall clumsiness, was always good with his hands – in more ways than one, his dirty mind finished for him – because of how often he worked with intricate redstone. “Did he also do my wings?”

“Yeah, he did. Were they good?”

Grian hummed, unsure how honest he wanted to be, given how earnestly both men were taking care of him. Well, one of them was his boyfriend, but still. Not to mention, if he wanted to rib on Mumbo, he wanted to do it when the man was here. 

A crash and a curse sounded from downstairs. 

Ah, there’s the man. Scar startled out of his seat, almost knocking Grian on the wing in the process. He stammered an apology and bowed out of the room in much the same way Mumbo did just a while before, calling out to the accident-prone man with a, “I’m coming!”

Several more crashes, screams, and a cat’s yowl that sounded like it was ripped straight from a sit-com later, Scar and Mumbo staggered back up with a handful of healing and regeneration potions, completely covered in far more gold dust than should have been possible given how long they’ve been gone. 

“How do you guys do this to yourselves every time?”

Scar glared at him playfully while Mumbo clutched the potions protectively to his chest. “The glistening melons were fighting me,” he defended himself. His arms twitched as if he was about to let go of the potions, and Grian was struck with the thought that Mumbo wasn’t being protective of the potions more so than simply not wanting to accidentally let go of them. “It’s not my fault that the chests you use to submerge the slices in gold dust are so easily knocked over.” 

His prominent glare at a certain elf made it clear exactly what happened downstairs. 

Quick, snorting giggles escaped him before he could control himself. Mumbo’s gaze softened and Scar simply went over to kiss him again. Mumbo tightened his hold on the potions again, but Grian was too busy being peppered with kisses all over his face to care particularly much.

Once he was done indulging, Scar popped open one of the many bottles and gestured for him to drink it, and then another one after that. The healing potions immediately went to work on the deepest parts of his injuries; a fracture in his arm that none of them caught immediately started to right itself, a deep pain finally clearing up, and his bruises immediately started to lighten. His tenderised wing bones needed the magic of the regen potions, though, and he was about to throw up with how much liquid the two fretting men forced into him. He groaned, his sensitive wings finally reforming themselves. Not all of it was done properly, and some wing bones still needed to be popped back into place, not to mention the amount of preening he had to do.

He motioned for someone to take his bandages off. Mumbo immediately went to work on his arms and body while Scar worked on his wings. He grimaced as a good few of his feathers were ripped out in the process, stuck to the dried blood. Scar immediately ran a soothing hand over the tender spots, gently rubbing the pain out. 

“That’s so much better,” he sighed. Pops sounded out as he finally rolled his shoulders back properly after being stuck in bed for…

“How long was I out for?”

“I think we carried you back here around three hours ago,” Mumbo said. Grian blinked. He was out for that long? Man, he knew he lost to a tree, but he didn’t think he lost that hard. Treesia 2.0 was out for blood, and she wasn’t even built yet. 

“Mumbo, you’ve shapeshifted into a bird before, right? You know how to preen wings?”

Mumbo nodded. He never stayed in those forms for long, preferring his human form for redstone, but the bird form was convenient when he loses his elytra and had to get somewhere quick.

“Can you help me with them, then? Even with Scar helping, it’ll take absolutely ages to get these boys back in working order,” Grian said. He flapped them lightly for emphasis. 

“Of course, of course,” Mumbo said, but he added hesitatingly, “But aren’t those… sensitive? I thought that was for…”

“Friends can preen each other as much as partners can.” This time, Grian didn’t miss Mumbo’s miniscule flinch. Oh? 

None of them said anything more as Grian shuffled backwards on the bed, making room for the two to crawl in beside him. They went to work on his wings, combing them back into their places and removing any remnants of broken blood feathers they could find. Grian popped any dislocated bones back into place, cringing slightly each time at the rush of pain.

That wasn’t the only feeling he was getting, though. 

Bird wings were sensitive, and many spots actually felt quite nice when touched. He chirped when Scar thumbed over one of his primary feathers and sighed when Mumbo pressed gently against his wingpit, trying to get a particularly stubborn feather out. Mumbo’s face flushed more and more as the preening session went on. The noises Grian was making were doing something to him, but he couldn’t help but feel terrible. Scar was literally right there, and here he was, blushing at every little noise.

“You could always join us, if you wanted,” Scar said. 

Mumbo yelped a little at that, only barely managing not to jump in surprise. “Huh? Join what? I’m perfectly fine, what are you talking about?”

“We’ve discussed it before, you know,” Grian chimed in. “Even before today, we always thought that… well, we wanted to date you too.” He hesitated when Mumbo took a second too long to reply. “Unless… we assumed wrong?”

“No!” Mumbo cringed at himself. That was almost a shout. “No, you assumed right, of course, I just—”

“Can I kiss you?” Grian blurted out. Mumbo’s frantic rambling increased to a frenetic rate, words spilling out of his mouth like a waterfall. Grian smirked. “Well, you made me feel mighty good right now. Might as well complete it, right?”

Mumbo froze, face immediately flushed tomato red. Grian reached out to poke him, but only got a small “Meep!” in return.

Scar laughed. “Gri, I think you broke him.” He reached out to poke him as well, hard enough to make him sway in place. 

“Not my fault he’s so easily breakable,” he pouted. 

“Grian, you lost to a tree.”

“Shut up!” 

And he did, with a deep kiss. That got a reaction out of the dying mustached man. Mumbo swallowed so hard Grian could hear it over the pounding in his ears, and he broke from Scar, leaning over with his intent clear in his eyes. Mumbo nodded imperceptibly, eyes still darting between their lips, and anything he was about to say was swallowed up by Grian’s kiss. 

Scar was complaining in the background. He said he wanted to kiss Mumbo first, why didn’t Grian ever listen to him, and Grian broke away to yell at him for that — Grian was not the one who never listened to his partner! — so Scar swept in and kissed Mumbo gently on the cheek. 

The sounds of Mumbo combusting have never been so satisfying.

“You know what? This was a pretty good reunion.”