#THE BIRDS ATE EM

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

THE SITE IS UP, EVERYBODY BRACE-

[gallifreyanconsultingphilosopher]

Time for: Random fruit from my yard

Went and picked some golden currants the other day; they're a little tart, but sweet, and have the perfect pit to flesh ratio for eating as they are.

Got a small amount of chokecherries (#4). The birds get to them pretty fast, they're more tart than currants and dry out your mouth; while they're typically used for preserves I've never collected enough to make any myself.

The plums are getting ripe too, the tree in the photo is one of the younger ones and only starting fruiting a year or two ago. The skin is bitter but the flesh is sweet, and I've been told they make a good jam; that's what my great grandma used to make with them.

[ponyosmom35]

don't ever talk to her like that again

Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter ten!

synopsis: Ghost forgets to come by and get his wound checked and the reader confronts him in front of 141, who make fun of him. he goes to her and catches a soldier yelling at her.

warnings: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF, cursing, angsty ghost

Liability masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

The next day was busy, she worked at least 16 hours, hopping between the soldiers, tending to their wounds. All of them were kind except for one. James was the young man whom she saved with Ghost the day prior. For whatever reason he seemed to dislike her. He made comments the entire day that had been slowly upsetting her. She tried not to think about it, and even asked to switch with another medic. She didn’t want him going around to others and telling them that she was an awful caretaker. 

Things settled down around 5 pm, most of the soldiers were fast asleep. She sits dwon for the first time that day after 12 hours of work and runs her hand over her hair. Her legs were on fire, as was her neck and her back. Yet you could never tell just but looking at her. She looks down at her files and goes over them all. She updated the treatment they’d received that day. She picks up the last file, noticing that it was the partially filled-out page she had for Ghost. She was unable to find his file without knowing his name. She huffs as she remembers that she’d told him to come visit her today. She leaves the files on her desk and walks through the dining hall, she spots him sitting at a crowded table with 141 and many others. Deciding to take a break she grabs a plate and sits down next to Soap and across from Ghost. 

“ankle biter! My god it's great to see you” Soap exclaims 

“Good to see you too suds” she says pushing his shoulder, the table chuckles at her cute nickname for him.

“How you been today? Haven’t seen you take a break once” Price comments “Yeah its been busy, everyone seems to be settled now” she nods

“You’ve done such a great job here, Ghost briefed me last night. You’re a real asset kid, thanks for the hard work, hope you know its appreciated” 

“Thank you, captain, that means a lot” she nods happily, as her cheeks turn pink

“Any of em giving you a hard time?” Gaz asks “sometimes we can be stubborn after gettin hurt”

“Just one, he’s fine though, doesn’t bother me”

“Who is it?” Ghost asks roughly, his intense gaze on her. Everyone turns to him in surprise, as he hasn’t said a word the whole time. 

“Doesn’t matter, but I am curious why you haven’t stopped by today, I need to check your stitches” she says crossing her arms, eyebrows raised as she waits for his explanation. The boys exchange glances, smirks on their faces as they await his response. 

“I’m good, don’t need anything else” 

“You are on the brink of an infection, I need to clean it out again”

“It’s fine-”

“If I don’t see you in my office before lights out I’ll drag you in there myself” she warns, pointing her fork at him. 

“Better not test her mate, I hear gingers are crazy” Soap murmurs 

“Shut up Johnny” Ghost snaps 

“You have three hours Ghost, don’t push me” she half-jokes “alright boys, I better get back to it, enjoy your dinner”

“You barely ate!” Price comments 

“No time, I’ll grab something later” she smiles before leaving the table.

After she’s out of earshot the men erupt into laughter, slamming their hands on the table as they cackle. Ghost sits there with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed at Soap.

“she got your ass LT” 

“I’ve never seen a bird talk to you that way, my god I love that woman” Gaz exclaims as he wipes his tears 

“She’s got you good doesn’t she eh Ghost?” Price asks slamming his hand on Ghost’s back. 

“What makes you say that?” he questions angrily, causing them to laugh loudly once more.

“You’re killing me LT, I can’t stand it” Soap says wiping the tears in his eyes

“Let me put it to you this way mate, I’ve never seen anyone speak to you like that and walk away unharmed. You didn’t even say a word! Never would’ve thought a bird would hold you by the balls like that, I’m glad to see it though” Gaz says sincerely, Ghost shakes his head and stands up holding his empty plate. Soap and Gaz continue to giggle and he glares at them intensely, both shut up and cover their mouths to hide their laughs.

“Fucking idiots” he comments

Ghost walks over to the food and makes a plate of food, he grabs a napkin and silverware before walking to the medical bay. He could hear a loud voice yelling and frowns. He walks closer to the source and sets the food down. 

“You fucking bitch! You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, get me a new doctor!” a voice yells

“James, I know it hurts but I have to clean it out, you don’t want an infection trust me” he hears her voice explaining calmly. Ghost stays outside, knowing that she could handle herself. He knew she’d be upset if he came in and defended her. Though every part of him was itching to rip that kid’s throat out. 

“No I don’t fucking trust you! You’d rather bounce on Ghost’s dick than actually do your job!” he yells

His eyes widen at that comment and he can’t control the rage that fills his body. Ghost storms into the room, his heavy footsteps causing them to turn and look at him. 

“Ghost-” James starts, in the blink of an eye he’s standing above the wounded soldier gripping his collar and holding him up. His heart rate spikes on the machine and he ignores it. 

“You fucking insignificant bastard, how dare you speak to a woman like that?!” he demands 

“Ghost it’s fine-” she starts 

“If I hear you speak to her like that ever again I will fucking kill you. Do you understand me? I don’t give a fuck if you’re in a hospital bed, only makes it easier” he threatens 

“okay man!” James says with tears in his eyes

“This woman saved your life! You’d be rotting six feet under if it weren’t for her. Show her some goddamn respect!”

“I’m sorry!” he cries out

“You will be once I’m done with you” Ghost drops him on his back forcefully. She places a hand on his forearm, instantly catching his attention at the touch. 

“Come on, lets clean you up” she says pulling him out of the room “someone will help you soon James, hang tight” 

She leads Ghost into a spare room and closes the door behind her. He doesn’t say a word as he breathes heavily, his hands clenched as he tried to keep himself from going back and finishing the kid off. 

“Can you take off your jacket?” she asks, her voice gentle. He looks up at her, her eyes were red and she was visibly exhausted. He does as told and unzips the thick fleece provided by the force. He reveals the tight black tee shirt he’d worn underneath and she inhales a sharp breath quietly as she stares at the way his muscles pop from the shirt. This was the second time she’d seen his bare arm, and she was still in shock. Fuck he was so sexy.

“besides what just happened, Have you been keeping yourself on light duty?” she asks, seemingly trying to move past the incident that just took place. 

“Yes”

“Oh at least you followed one of my instructions” she comments sarcastically 

“Are you okay?” he asks as she begins to slowly unwrap his wounds 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“James-”

“James is a dick but you could’ve really hurt him” she says disapprovingly. 

“He can’t talk to you like that”

“Unfortunately that’s a part of the job Ghost, angry soldiers need someone to blame, often times the person in front of them trying to help”

“Still gives him no right” he grunts, she begins to clean out his wounds gently as she sighs. He says inherently apologizing for the way he treated her when she tried to help him months back.

“Then he would’ve blamed me for that too, made the rumors worse” 

“If you want me to apoligize its not going to happen” he responds 

“I don’t expect you to apoligize, I actually think it was really sweet what you did for me. Nobody’s ever defended me like that before” she muses 

“Never?” 

“No”

“You let me know if he opens his mouth again, I’ll make sure those are the last words that rat bastard ever speaks” he says, watching as her face lightens and she laughs. The sound is like music to his ears, the tense feeling in his stomach dissipating. 

“I think you’ve scarred him straight” 

“Fucker” he murmurs under his breath. 

“I’m a big girl ghost, I can handle my own” she says 

“I know you can, but I didn’t ask you to” he responds causing her to snort. “What would you have said to him?” 

“I probably would’ve warned him not to threaten the person trying to help him, sound familiar?” she asks, he laughs and nods his head. 

“very” 

“Okay you’re all set” she says, fixing his sleeve “do you want anything for the pain?”

“No” he says, standing to his feet, his large stature once more towering over her. 

He moves to the door and opens it, gesturing for her to walk in front of him. She smiles and walks into the common room, noticing a plate of food on the table. She frowns and walks over to it. “I wonder whose this is” 

“I brought it for you” he comments, watching as she looks up at him in surprise “probably cold now”

“That was really sweet, thank you” she says taking a seat as she picks at it. 

“Thank you for…” he trails off gesturing to his arm

“Anytime” she nods, watching as he turns to walk away, her eyes widen and she stands calling after him. Ghost turns, staring down at her in confusion. 

“So I know you go by Ghost but I need your real name so I can update your file” she says, his body tenses and he glares down at her, she notices and shifts uncomfortably “Its protocol, legally I can’t keep using a blank form” 

His mind races as he thinks of a way to get out of this situation. She seems to notice his distress and shakes her head. 

“You know what, I’ll talk to Price and figure it out, no problem” she says, watching as he sighs in relief. 

“Have a good night Ghost” she smiles before walking away.

-

Later that night she walks into her room, fresh out of the shower. She opens her door and notices it catching on something. She frowns and opens it all the way, noticing a file on the ground. She picks it up and opens it. At the top it read ‘Lieutenant Simon Riley’. Her heart swells as she nearly drops the file on the ground. A large smile spreads across her face as her cheeks turn pink. Simon, his name was Simon. He trusted her enough to reveal his name. 

She spends an hour filling out his medical report, unable to keep the smile off of her face. As she finishes she sets the file on her bedside table and crawls under her covers. She lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling with a smile. Her heart racing at the thought of him. Simon Riley had her wrapped around his big ass fingers. 

a/n: giggling and kicking my feet rn! I am losing my mind at this, ugh how sweet.

[bratdotcom]

Burning Phoniex Prefix Prefix Flavor

( Stan Pines x reader || 3 AM craving shenanigans )

Stan's newest gripe with himself was that he had a tendency to censor his own words- even when alone in his own kitchen at 3 in the morning, he couldn't bear himself to cuss. Even when he talked out loud, with nobody watching.

"These," Stan coughs loudly, punching his chest. Small orange particles leave his breath and are visible in the dimming light of the kitchen's dining room. "These got a kick to 'em-" He fans his tongue hurriedly, as if that'd help with the burning sensation inside his mouth. Even with his mouth practically on fire, he couldn't bear himself to utter a word of vulgarity. Not even under his breath.

He gets up from his seat, holding the ramen packet he ate out of up in the air so he can see the packaging better. He felt like he was examining a hundred dollar bill and somewhat humiliated for being practically brought to his knees over some snack he was craving in the middle of the night.

"Kick me in the knee." he says subsequently after two solid minutes of adjusting and readjusting his glasses to read the words on the packaging properly. Stan realizes that he grabbed one of your convenience store snacks by accident. Those spicy instant ramen packs with the screaming bird-like thing on them. This wasn't very convenient for him right now.

"Stan?" Your voice calling out to him almost knocks him onto his ass. He steps away from the light emitting from the hallway as you peek your head into the kitchen.

He tries his best to act discreet as he hides the empty pack of spicy ramen behind his back. "Hey, uh," Stan was at a loss for words. He secretly hoped you didn't see him holding one of your snacks behind his back.

"What're you doin' up this late?" He decides to say, directing the topic of conversation to you. "You almost scared the heck outta me. You ever tried knocking before?”

"I was hungry." You reply, stepping one slippered foot into the room. "Besides, what's there to knock on? Other than a door frame full of splinters?" You joke in response, making Stan go quiet for a split second to think of some sort of comeback.

"...you got a point there." He says, pointing at you with his finger. Using the same hand he hid behind his back.

"Is that my ramen?" You immediately ask, no hesitation at all.

"...no?" Stan was sweating now, not from nervousness, but because of how spicy the seasoning packet was. He forgot to drink water. Not milk. Water. He should've gone grocery shopping when he had the chance.

He could feel his eyes start to sting again.

It was unbearable. Trying to hide hide how much eating just a single pack of ramen was affecting him. Just one pack was enough to bring him to his knees, clutching his stomach. He did not have the joints for that.

He can see the concern flash on your face as you stare back at him. "Stan, you look red." you point out. "Listen, I don't really care if you eat my ramen or not. Those things come fifty cents a pack. Are you okay?" He can hear the care in your tone as you speak.

He responds with a cough. And then another cough. You cringe at the sound. "Okay, you don't need to talk." For once in his life, Stan shuts himself up. All because he couldn't tolerate some spice in some ramen. He was glad that you and him were the only ones up in the shack tonight. Guiding him to a chair, you pat his back a couple of times.

"Don't die while I have my back turned, okay?" you pull away from his side to grab him a glass of water. He needed that. Stan had manners, sometimes. If he could, he'd say thank you right now.

He sighs in relief, leaning against the back of his chair. "That hits the spot." he catches his breath, taking another drink from the glass you gave him.

"Please don't tell anyone about this." He says, wiping his mouth on his hand.

Stan quickly points a finger at you. "Don't use it as blackmail either- I know how you people work." He adds, making you laugh quietly. "Woah there, buddy, calm down." You hold your hands up defensively. "Do I look like a narc to you?" You ask, putting your hands down.

You had a point there. You weren't a narc. You knew where he kept his gold jewelry. He trusted you enough.

"...you're right." He says, after a moment of thinking to himself for a bit too long. He needed to go back to sleep.

🎱 : LIKED THE FIC? VISIT GRAVITY FALLS DOT CO FOR MORE!!

As if you could read the thoughts going through his head, you yawn. "We should probably hit the hay. We got a long day of scammin- I mean welcoming people to the shack." His correction makes you laugh again as you help him up from his seat.

[karenssupplystore]

Pranking the 141 with your niece (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!reader)

Warnings: F!Reader (She/Her pronouns) (Sorry!!)

Word count: 1177

Thinking about reader and Simon pranking the 141 with your sister's baby. 

The 141 was aware that Simon had a lover but knew little further. Little comments under the Brits breath about the'missus’ when having to step out of the room from the buzz of his phone and when he slides a fresh container of home baked goods into the kitchen with delicate handwriting on a pink sticky saying "For you, and the boys <3" were all they knew of you. 

In all honesty, it was more than Simon wanted to share about you at first, but as time passed and he got more certain that you were not going to leave, he began to mention you more frequently. For the reserved soldier, it used to mean once in a blue moon, but now it meant more, and the boys ate up every crumb. Some more than others. 

“So… Have ye put a ring on her finger yet?” 

“Johnny, what’re ya on about?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

So, when Simon's phone rings again on an otherwise quiet evening, the men's gaze shifts to the Brit as he stands.

“The missus?”

“Aye, she’s here. You all can meet the two of ‘em.”

Soap and Gaz exchange confused and intrigued glances when the phrase'meeting the two' is said, but they remain silent as the Brit exits to go get you.

“The two of ‘em? What’s he saying, He got two lasses now?” Soap muses nearly as soon as the heavy metal door closes and moves to sit next to Gaz on one of the couches.

"I don't know; surely he wouldn't bring both birds if he had 'em," the two men say quietly before the door to the common area swings open and in walks a gorgeous-looking woman with a chubby little babe on her hip, followed closely by Simon. 

“... and that’s what I told her,” you finish, finding the two men’s gaze with a polite smile as you motion for your husband to set the baby bag down. "Oh, and do get the binky with the... Yes, thank you, my love.”

The looks of disbelief, confusion, and pride for their lieutenant exchanged by each of the men are nearly enough to break you, but you manage to stay in character, pressing a gentle kiss on Simon's cheek when he hands you the binky from the bag. Your niece babbles happily as she reaches for the binky, which settles her on the spot on your hip.

“Well, I didn’t realise just how far you two ‘ad gone with what little our lieutenant ‘ere has told us, but it’s wonderful to ‘ave you ‘ere all the same,” a new voice comes from the doorway of the next hall over. “You’re welcome anytime, love.”

Your husband's massive hand rests on your hip, a comforting touch that keeps you close and lets you know you're safe without being rough. "Thanks, Capitan, but she doesn't need to pop 'round too often." You roll your eyes, chuckling at the comment, but don't say anything, instead thanking Price with a small smile and nod.

As Price walks away, you return your focus to the two men on the couch; one of them, you suppose, is called Soap, is waving at the baby in your arms, much to the child's enjoyment. With a small elbow from the other man, Gaz, he takes his turn and waves to your niece, who giggles happily, earning a triumphant smile from the man. 

“Here, why don’t you two take the babe for a moment? I’ve been dying to see what pictures Simon has put in his room.” You say, taking the baby from your hip and placing her on the lap of Gaz, who takes the child, gaining another happy babble. 

“You two better look after my wife’s niece right proper, you ‘ear me?” The stern words make both Gaz and Soap look at the child, but before they can look up and ask for clarification, Simon has already whisked you away down the hall toward his room.

"Did you see their faces?" I've never seen a military man so shocked," you add with a grin as Simon guides you into his room, resting a hand on your lower back. "I did. "The both of 'em deserved a little shock, nosin' around my personal life and all," irritation sat heavy in the words.

"Oh, you know their questions come from a good place." You tilt your head up and step closer to him, the delicate touch of your fingertips smoothing down his shirt collar and relieving the strain in his shoulders.

“I know, but I don’t like sharin’ what’s mine,” he sighs softly as his hands rest on your hips, thumbs tracing circles on the exposed skin that is seen as the hem of your shirt lifts slightly when you wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Possessive, are we?” You tease, eliciting a little smirk from scarred lips and a little pinch to your hip. 

“‘Course I am; I thought you liked it too.”

With a playful swat to his arm and a roll of your eyes, you settle in to look up at him, a grateful smile on your lips. "I do, but you don't need to go off and ruin your relationship with the guys." "Though if you ever want to play harmless pranks on them again..."

This causes Simon's eyes to roll, and he shakes his head, brown eyes falling on you as if you were heaven on earth.

"What?" You giggle as his gaze sweeps over your face, causing a little blush on your cheeks.

“Nothin’,” a calloused hand comes up to your face to trace over your jawline before settling in to cup your cheek. “Just thinkin’ about what a grand mam you’d make. “You’re so soft wi’ your niece; reckon you’d be a proper mam with our own little’ ones runnin’ about.”

“Are you saying you want to start a family?” Your words are hesitant at first, but the truth in his gaze and his touch are absolute. “Have our own little family?”

"Yea," he says softly, slipping his hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. Taking a step closer, he leans down to brush his lips against the skin of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You're gonna be a bloody gorgeous mam all full of our child."

"Simon," you whisper as his lips descend to your neck, leaving gentle, barely there kisses on your skin. "My niece.."

“Shh.. the lads’ve got ‘er, don’t you worry. She’s in good ‘ands; just relax.” Before you can retort, his hands slide down your waist, and you’re being lifted off the ground by strong arms that carry you towards his bed, eliciting a little yelp from you that in turn makes a smirk pull at his lips.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

"How long d'ye think it takes to show a couple o'photos, eh?" Soap says as he bounces the babe on his knee and turns to Gaz.

"Oh, I don't think it's just photos they're shairin'."

"Bloody 'ell."

A/N: I think I’m starting to get the hang on writing in accents but it’s still very much in the works! Also so sorry that this one is f!reader, most of my works are gender neutral or as much so as I can do but this one just ended up being feminine. Also also, come talk to me!! my asks are always open and I’d love to chat with some of you!!

[cipheramnesia]

Graft

In my rest time between one novel and the next I'm enjoying myself making a little spun sugar story about a cyberpunk pussy heist. It's meandering and heavy on imaginary slang but it's fun for me so here is the first half or third or so of it

First thing DeeDee noticed, her usual morning orgasm, or "morgasm," hadn't gone off.

She was late, and splashers crowded her A/V specs, screaming flashing neon yellow red blue promises, 10 water rat guaranteed each spin, stop here twenty percent off premium-vu, act now to get free oxy-sub, plus about fifteen past due blasters for her leg mods, dayclix, manudex upgrade, face plate, other parts. She could see a narrow sliver of her room through the MAds, and she had a scrips balance lockout from the cockout. Groaning with irritation, clawed her way off the cot to the 12-key hardline, unfolded her tongue socket and jammed the bcomp line in, clattering the set in frustration.

Half the blasters, most of the splashers dipped. She got back audio and waist downs and rolled. "Whoooo turned my hot shots off? Who left the wallEMP off!" Micro drones winged around the room popping ad spray and sonics, a few were clamped on her with other past due notes. "Water ration overdue, water ration exceeded" circled her biomech cat ears. Swatted a two or three, fell on the wall switch to jam on the Flyswatter. DeeDee figured a couple hundred overall went pop, trailed smoke down. Ad dust everywhere from the spray. One was on her face?

"I'm not best pleased!" she said to no one, expressing her displeasure. Swept dust and drone crumbs with her feet to space clear in her studio apartment slash office slash workspace slash bedroom slash kitchen, and crashed on the deskchair, slapping dpatches along her limbs and a compstik into her faceboard. "No hotshot no swatter, noncon facejacked?" She untangled her hair from the ecb-plugs on her face tech and grabbed her digiplate because she was slumming it, pouted while the scrips and drips that got dug into her software and hardware ate the big edit to the sky.

While she was waiting around for the MAds and spamware scan [MAdaSS], she finally got to look over the C-Clamp chastity boot locked to her pelvic slot with optional NoPro (tm) insert for prostate denial. "What's this horseshit, who did I fuck last night?" DeeDee did not know what horses were, she imagined they were a kind of bird. Pinged out for her custom built EX neurosynth neovag and got fuckall, which pissed her because the whole point was fuck all.

One by one her debuggers chirped, hopped onto her palm, drawered em, and slapped her basic as fuck face of the day on. Blessed she was with pristine sight of the world, not a nagnote or payscram in sight, just vext message notes, siggies, and a small alarm bell. "Shit, better get to work!"

Shoved cargo shorts over her cock locked personal pleasure slot, work boots, tanktop ("Asparagus for President" it said, from the infamous three way sudden death vote-off of '76), and jammed her comxcon into a free arm port before she flipped the sign to open at her door. "Gosh that was close, any customers?" She looked, a khakicollar dude held up a laptop plaintive, "My browser won't-" DeeDee slammed the door, "No customers! Another perfect day, hang up." Vext notes blinked aside for serious business now. She threw her shorts off. "Time to get outta this contraptamajig."

One angle grinder, one band saw blow torch, three axes, twelve hammers, and eighteen screwdrivers later DeeDee fucked her way through one after the other, even tried to plink the code. All this pouding and plethora of penetrarive pelvic parts frustrated her to rolling her bedsheets into her crotch and grinding on the best metal chastity could buy. She drooled all over her aching synthezized nerve spots, "fuck me I can't even cum, what's wrong with the world these days?"

Vexts, vexts, she clicked the note up it said: ANSWER YOUR CALLS and >:( >:( >:( >:(

The incoming piddy was the UNKNOWN ID scrap, she dropped a spam cage on it and replied 8===D~~~ GFYS and binned it mid-[... is typing]

Fuck fuckity fuck work, DeeDee needed some downtown deep sea diving. She climbed out the window, being more reliable than stairs or elevator. Nothing worked in the damn building except gravity.

Short and sweet broke beat sidewalk street, she hit so many concrete cracks, DeeDee figured the local maternity wards had to be a massacre. A couple dozen micros blasted ad spray and sonics, she flipped a bug zapper and swept em. Ads were going old school, nanoswarms warred over wallspace in constant barage of microsensors, hurling rainbow swirls that paced over the odd window and traffic signal promising six months free tubespace per dayclix.

ANSWER YOUR CALLS RIGHT NOW 😡😡😡😡

"Oh fancy fucks spending on the megs per pixel now?" DeeDee spamcanned again (GFYS) and freeloaded on a driverless with a buncha other local goons. "Hey ratbot, you headin to the VFW too?"

"It's a coffee barrr, Draftie," he replied. DeeDee called him ratbot because he was a planned obsolescence warbot with artificial intelligence generated by a rat brain daisy chain, real preschooler level tech these days but cheap and easy at the time and twice as disposable as a human soldier. "And for the last time my name is Wendell. Wendell Crawford."

She still didn't know why he had a Boston accent, the whole city had been totalled in the second Great Mega Pileup Traffic Jam six years before the manufacturer date on his tread guards. He called her Draftie because her legal name was Draft Dodger due to a mistake in one of her prison ID cards. "C'mon, it's Morca's."

"Ignore her, babe," Bobby, ratbot's partner, tugged him a fraction of an inch away on the driverless rooftop. Legally speaking Bobby was Wendell's owner because the corporate manufacture-state that made him refused to recognize his personhood. Morca's owner, SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE, had been helping with their legal battle, but they hadn't made much progress. Total bullshit, DeeDee thought but last big corplex suit against SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE made em keep her in life support parts forever, cleared out all mines from international waters, and her entire species were considered a recognized nation encompassing all oceans on Earth. Did great things for the environment, terrible for the war business.

They hopped at the block, batted some more ad spray and DeeDee knocked some local splashers with the hotshot, enjoyed watching ratbot snap micros in half with his plastic fingers, inhuman accuracy, "Still got it babe," said Bobby, hugging his blocky arms.

They pushed through the big, rocketproofed front doors under a blinking neon "Morcha Latte" sign, inside was all plastic and vulcanized rubber with DV light and fake windows to make the warehouse sized bunker building feel cozy. SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE claimed it was stress tested up to three directs from sunburst corebuster and who was going to argue with a two storey cyborg?

The overheads churned out the latest scrape40, whatever they were listening to at the bottom of the ocean, today DeeDee thought it sounded like angry plinko machines fighting while she caught lyrics she understood in bits and pieces, "Strangle me, strangle all my life, drag us through the silt and kill in the light," or something like that. She was a regular at Morca's because she got SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE all her jailbroken subscription free parts - sourcing and scouring unclocked mods and squids was her gig anyway. She dumped her ass into a rickety old carbon fiber woven chair between the door and the juke wall. A bunch of hipsters had early adopted save to disc memory uploads but went with vinyl to capture the true soul, now they spent all day slotted into the giant juke machine with impulse fed nerve endings bathed in chemically sterilized vats of coffee.

DeeDee unzipped her shorts and capped the chastity blocker. ARE U SEEING THIS? vexted to Portland. They knew all the high mods, probably could crack her case, she thought, right before let's just say a jolt, a singing high note, transported her from crotch to sternum then dropped her cold. Half a sec from climax, she looked around the room her digiplate all 0_0 not finding a shred of note, til the second song struck her off her seat and got her writhing on the rubber. Customers at the other tables lifted cups and rekeyed their MAdaSSes to tune her out.

"Hot pants!" she yelled, "Liar pants, falsehoods and flame!" Real old gen VR heads turned in annoyance as she pirouetted through tables and rattled silverware clung to the espresso countertop. Her legs kicked about in frustration as she got edged up and dropped. "H-hey Velllma, mind if I borrow the steamer a hot sec?"

"Sure DeeDee, you know you only gotta ask hun. Want-want s-some sug- Sorry, still got that old tick." Velma was a self-operated point of sale holodrone who DeeDee had jacked, glassed, and juiced to someone more independent for handling orders at Morca's, and she'd done a recent SRS download to her visual interface.

"You're the best Vel." Few seconds later DeeDee steamed her crotch full blast trying to bust herself free or bust herself off.

ANSWER YOUR CALLS NOW OR YOU'LL NEVER CUM AGAIN, BITCH

She slipped off the espresso machine and answered from the floor with her feet still resting against the countertop. "Who are you, and what was the safe word? Last night's a blur."

"No safeword. We have your cunt. Meet at the bench, corner of Morgan Stanley Park Avenue and Kern Holding Street. Alone, one hour."

It was one thing to jailbreak, but DeeDee knew her limits and line trace was one so she snagged and bagged the pins and held a little inside sacrifice to Portland, the premier polymath polycule who surgically interconnected their brains inside a single body to share one another for life. One bit of Portland code gold and she'd be swimming in pussy. "You're on the floor, DeeDee," reminded Velma.

"This is my thinking space, hush up while I ponder the infinite." She could a couple a SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE's legs pacing, shaking the floor, could catch a word back in the beyond warehouse room where a couple cracked up Kilowais were chattering out notation and legal docstacks for Flathead Ford. The Kilowais, KBW trademarked AI, were way old corpsec, patented and trademarked download of a heavy hitter bandsaw from his day, couldn't be pirated off the base personality unless they morally agreed to void their warranty, lots in the circ. Ford was SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE's lawyer, fighting the landslide for ratbot on the orca's tab.

PORTLAND WILL SEE YOU NOW, DeeDee flixed over from the viz to the vurt. "Are you still thinking dear?" Velma asked, pointedly moving her legs to start espresso dripping, DeeDee assumed the obvious silently as penance. "How's it hanging y'all, got any hot new brains to hook into the juice party?" Loaded upside down in the polygon pleather chair, Portland ran clix and adspace in a tasteful wall scroll, kind of an art to the exploit, less brute force than DeeDee's prefs, the smooth outer chassis for Portland said "I'm punching out in a minute."

They were an individualized amalgamation of three physical brains psychosurgically visected into one another, enabled to a custom body and lifetime committed to singulamory. "I'm cock locked out, Port, listen," DeeDee shoved two fingers to her mouth and slathered her togue along them for a sensiosync to the cursed crotch clamp. Portland's digits ghosted through the stats, pulled em and vexted. "What's the damage, how much and how soon?"

"Custom work, charming darling." Portland leaned their trilateral symmetric body back, waved away the middle and spread up DeeDee's alt, nerves and all. "Fused the long way up your spinal cord. Biolocked, meat stuff. Not our forte, darling, and you couldn't afford it if it was." Portland sighed, overcome with vaporous boredom. "Even if we knew the lockout, custom viropicks run more than your last ten years income, pussycat."

"Fuck my life, stay outta my taxes, gimme something at least." DeeDee yanked her slobbered fingers out.

"It's good work, better than you're ever worth, and I'd know - I sourced half your body."

"One third but whatever."

"The good news is, you'll probably not get spinal meningitis from the lockout, just don't leave it too long." DeeDee punched out and heaved a floor heavy sigh. "Guess I really better go make that meet, or I could desperately call everyone I know and owe." After desperately calling everyone she knew, DeeDee said, >:( to the ceiling, "I guess I'm going to the meet with these mysterious pussy theives. I spent good money on that cunt too!"

"How's that search going," Velma stood between DeeDee's legs and frothed artificially thickened protein strings for someone's café au lait.

"Velma... Velma, have I been karmically centered would you say? Have the scales of justice been tipped cruelly against me, the most innocent of girls? Would you walk on me for twenty bucks?"

So Velma kicked off her shoes but not even getting used as a doormat got her off the edge, then SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE looked through her office door.

"Velma, put your shoes on, DeeDee leave your shirt off and pay Velma another twenty." The average AlTrek 4X Infrantry Multiplier AC was rusting out in uninhabitable desert to the beat of radioactive decay, major outliers were in use for specialized valet parking and the life support framework for SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE, approximately 1/3 of an orca left over from an underwater mine in a corpwar trading route blow up.

No one argues with two tons of whale who already won a fight with the government and the major corptrade conglomerate general council strapped inside another 12 odd tons of mechanized power, DeeDee tucked her shirt behind her head and hoped someone around here appreciated her tits. >:0 "These are pristine, you jackoffs, classic CW models, OEM to spec!" She shoved them in the direction of the tables, no one looked.

"Dee." Flathead beckoned, DeeDee called to the beck and slashed backwards on a metal chair. "You're keyed up to vandal, girl. Listen, need a filter swap for my client. Upgrade the whole box if you can scratch it up, figure me?"

"Square it with me, Ford, my tits still hot?" (*´_`) She leaned way in, specced the side-eye from SCREE Chirt-Chirt ascending EEE through the tanktint windows, right figure whales are mammals too.

Flathead's oily eyes under that heavybrowed custom lawframe job in his skull slid along DeeDee, back to her digital pleading @_@ and shrugged. "You know I don't do organic."

"Fuck! I'm-" She pulled her shirt down. "I'm late, I'll hustle up a nextgen, usual rate."

"Sure sure. Clean it, client says this one makes everything taste like hot dogs."

"How's she know what a hot dog tastes like even where'd she get..." DeeDee vocalled on the downlow out the side office door, left ratbot and Bobby hankin paperwork in whatever new angle Ford was playing at. Color searing eyes blasted the world round her with sound again. Splasher and flasher swarmed the Mocra doors hungrily.

DeeDee swiped onto a delivery drone blowing down the sidewalk, vanished in a cloud of disintegrating adspray and splasher dust. Clix and spinners streaked her A/V edge while she fingerbanged the tamperfree(tm) deep into the loving waiting GPS and flushed it. Kern Holding halved the ad sprays, stuck her on a halfsec blind wait to cycle over the MAdaSS.

Didn't look half priced up over the viz, real park space and algea tanks, plastic green, trueviz rooftop boards and splashers all reigned in. Not many places scratched up enough to pay for gray but Kern and Morgan Stanely did. "Fuck where's this guy." Hustle and crowd pressed close round the bench powerbricks, all these droners worked virtual right on the walkway.

Coats slid up too personal in a curl, this guy has legs on legs and teeth like insect legs, curling open near DeeDee's whimsical cat-ear mods. "Let's private" it skittered those fine metal teeth to her mask glass, and made her go all >.<; with each word. "Whatever." She wrapped digits round multisegment hands and clasped private-public lines, perfect prophylactic for keeping conversing on the hush-hush without a fatal social disease.

"Why the cold brush, kittykat, doncha trust much," it thrummed in silk smooth inside sounds around the wire.

"Don't test my taps, snatcherino," she dropped an icicle hiss down the line. Hand in hand and out for a stroll through the walking workdead and high class bluemaroon adspray of the other side.

"Fair enough kitty, coulda had more playtime." It was wrapped up head to toe other than the segments in her hand and legs slipped in between bandages on its head. "Giving you a hot tip, fresh filter refurb, ex-corp sub and modded for ox, great deal for you. Free and install formatted."

"Real bargain bin I spec."

"No clones, no rebadge. I'll drop the pickup, all you do is courier like a good girl. No messing, no poking the drivers and wares, from your hands to the orca, and forget we talked. That's all." A ripple of excitement went through the walking workdead, furiously chattering through corp trades.

"Figure that filter's plenty safe. Figure that's why all the cloak n bullshit pussy snatching. Pure charity, no?"

"Trust, nothing's on your hands after this and you go back to nightly custom fingerbangs." Twenty insect legs curled around the cuff of its coat and withdrew.

"Might run this up a few contacts first."

"Might drop your filthy cunt in sulfuric acid if you do, clear enough."

"Distilled, fine, hit me with the deets."

Deet dusted, connect busted, DeeDee blew bowed kisses with fuck off finger flourishes while she walk backwards up an exec driverless, scuffing up the ten cent gloss on a two cent primer dip. Rolled with the high rollers through the Red Riser strip. She cut through the Whipping Whirlpool, high stakes operator she cut some autonomics for - head/body gamblers all got off on taking a chance on having their bodies wired in to fuck off enough debt to reattach their heads, double or nothing down to win a brand new model. Not a sale or soul DeeDee made, her personal opinion but no judgment. Slipped out the back door after a little slap and tickle pass through.

The back alley cut between WW and topline exec condoslugs, custom body stim tubes for a full home holistic virtual life, and the whole alley was packed with nimbyronment sentiels. Rained here so no one else got wet, wastecycle rats and sewer filters crowded up and down the black wet brick. DeeDee stepped live around the hyperaggro antipestation roachhives then out to the big blaze - adcolor burst wide round her as she hit the main road looking for drones and anthills.

No broker worth a salt shake missed out on bread crumbs and sugar crystals, and DeeDee doled em from her cargo pants pocket. Can't do acquisitions and void warranties without a big juiced net, a dropin with Guts was neg, hadda go pre-analog here full on prehistoric. Dime blaster swarmed each scrap, cheap motion sensitive, to small for spray. Rats bright and ready for fission snagged, but the bait made do and the march of Colony made its unerring path a bead of tiny black dots to DeeDee.

"Sweet sWeet sweEt bread Gluten carbo yeaSt verY Good sweet swEet yes." Couple hundred ants jeweled DeeDee's ears pretty as you please and twice as small. Colony sees all, knows all, lives everywhere, that singularly focused consciousness inside immeasurable ants. It all farmed belowground, and DeeDee got in the know when her mini-fridge busted.

No dropin, no line out, no unlink or download - just neko a horminga and her lips to Colony's ears.

[undertheopensky]

Extinction

Whumptober Day 27: I misread Alt Prompt #7 Examination, so I guess this is now a Skies-specific prompt of Extinction. Though if you wanted to get poetic about it, I guess ‘Scars’ would also work.

Characters: Sky, Four, everyone’s kind of there especially in the first part

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, grief, dehumanisation, it makes sense in context

Read on Ao3!

–––

“No, see, wolves are to wolfos what unicorns are to horses,” Hyrule is explaining to a perplexed Wild. “And rabbits to a pols voice. Y’know, the non-monstery version.”

“Out of curiosity, what the fuck do you think a unicorn is?” Legend asks, visibly fascinated by the whole conversation.

Hyrule thinks for a moment. “I’m pretty sure it’s like a horse with fairy wings? That doesn’t want to kill you.”

“Okay, I think we need to introduce you to more horses than Twilight’s monster.”

“Oi!” Twilight protests, looking up from his leatherwork.

“Last week she stomped and then ate a deku baba,” Legend says flatly.

“So?”

“Oh my god,” Legend mutters. Then, as Time walks up, his patrol apparently finished, “Hey, old man! What’s a unicorn to you?”

“Horse with a horn,” he replies easily.

Wild wrinkles his nose, clearly struggling to imagine it. “What’s the horn for?”

“For stabbing people, obviously.”

“What?! No!” Indignant, Four looks up from his book. “They cleanse water and purify poisons! There are no legends associating them with the battlefield, except for one country that uses them as the heraldry device for medics!”

Time shrugs, clearly unbothered.

“No wings, then?” asks Hyrule, slightly crestfallen.

“Nah, that’s a pegasus,” says Warriors.

“Like the boots?” Legend squints at the wings on his own.

“I think so? It’s a horse with, like, bird wings. One of the noble families back home uses them in their heraldry. There’s a lot of mythical creatures on heraldry, actually.”

“Rabbits ain’t mythical,” says Twilight.

“I’ve never seen one before.”

“Wait, back up – what’s a rabbit?” says Wind.

“A non-monstery pols voice.”

Wind isn’t pleased with Hyrule’s answer. “And what the hell is a pols voice?”

“It’s like…” Hyrule is stumped by the question. “It’s like… a, a blob with whiskers and long ears, except then it opens its mouth and it’s ALL mouth, and all teeth, and –”

“Oh, those! Huh, I never knew what they were called. I only came across ‘em once. And a rabbit is…”

“Smaller and less evil,” says Legend dryly, which which for some reason makes Twilight sputter with choked laughter.

“Oh, yeah - Sky,” Hyrule turns around to address him, “Sky, you’re the earliest -”

“I have never seen a unicorn,” Sky interrupts. “And I’m not sure what a rabbit is, but there’s a lot of flora and fauna on the Surface we’re still struggling to figure out, and I haven’t seen much of it that’s familiar while travelling with you. Things must change a lot through the eras.” He feels his face fall as his heart does. “Like loftwings, I guess.”

“What are loftwings, anyway? You’ve mentioned them before.”

Sky’s brow furrows. “Have I not explained loftwings yet?”

“You got partway through and then we were attacked by those chuchus and got distracted,” Wild offers.

Sky pulls a face. Right, and then cleanup had taken forever, because chuchus. Of all monster species, why were those ones so universal? They were barely even functional! “Okay. Loftwings are… huge birds, I guess is the easiest way to describe them. Each Hylian gets a loftwing partner when we’re young, and we grow up together. It’s - everyone has one. It’s been really weird to me that none of your eras have them. Since we’re on an isolated series of islands - or, well, we were - loftwings are essential to carry us from place to place.”

“They carry you? How big are they?”

“Pretty big.” Sky squints for a moment. “Crimson’s wingspan would stretch between that log and where Twilight’s sitting, easy.”

“Giant birds?” Wind screws up his face. “Like the Helmaroc King? Don’t like that.”

It’s Hyrule’s turn to make a face. “What’s a helmaroc king?”

Wind shrugs. “Massive bird monster. Oh, hey, maybe that’s what happened to Loftwings?”

“Hm?” Sky blinks back from where he’d been imagining Crimson sitting between Twilight and Warriors, sneakily tugging the captain’s scarf whenever he looked away. Goddess, he misses him. “Sorry, what was that?”

“You said it was weird that they don’t exist in any of our eras, right? Maybe it’s because they turned into monsters over time, like wolves and rabbits!”

Sky doesn’t know what noise he makes at that, doesn’t know what his face is doing. He feels cold, and sick, and horrified, because no no no that can’t be what happened please tell him that’s not what happened -

But why did the loftwings disappear? Left behind only in heraldry and insignia, not even their names left to history? How could they have been forgotten so completely?

“No,” he chokes out, “no, that can’t be. Loftwings aren’t monsters.”

“But sometimes animals can become monsters when they’re exposed to lots of dark magic over many years, like with wolfos. It would make sense why we’ve never heard of them, right, if they all became, like, kargarocs or something.”

The voices of the others die away to an indistinct hum. Sky thinks he should be concerned about that, except he’s already occupied with the sudden chill against his skin, the way his heart feels simultaneously too large and too small for the space it occupies, straining and racing, the way his lungs burn when he tries to breathe and ache when he doesn’t.

His head hurts.

His heart hurts.

Slowly, the buzzing fades.

“If we find a unicorn, do you think we can smuggle it back to my Hyrule?” Hyrule is asking.

“The hell do you want one of them for?”

“If they can really purify water, then –”

They’ve moved on from the conversational bomb that had rocked Sky to his foundations. Accepted the explanation without comment or question. To them, it’s just another strange fact about the world, like the way monsters in Wild’s Hyrule will all spring back to life when the moon turns red, or that there’s magic trapped in music. Over time, animals can turn into monsters.

And Sky just – doesn’t know how, doesn’t have the vocabulary to explain to them that loftwings aren’t animals – they’re people.

(He’s never had to explain it before. On Skyloft, everyone knows this, from the smallest child to the most forgetful elder: loftwings are your partner, the other half of your soul. They’re people.

When they can’t even understand that much, how does he even begin to explain how horrifying it is to think of them becoming nothing more than monsters, over the millenia?)

–––

Maybe this time, Sky thinks. Maybe this time the portal will take them home.

To his home, at least. He’s never been away so long before. And his jaunts to the Surface had in no way prepared him for the loneliness of being eras and countries away from his friends and his family and his loftwing. And maybe - maybe with it all close to hand, the feelings at his fingertips - he’ll be able to explain it better to the others. Explain it so they’ll understand.

The saturated colours and faint burr of magic through the earth raise his hopes briefly, but - no. This isn’t Skyloft. Isn’t even the Surface beneath it. It’s - it’s easier to define it by what it isn’t. The Surface has lain untouched by Hylian hands for centuries, ancient and wild. This place - it feels tamer. Steadier. Young, almost, but not in the sense of age - in the sense of, of rawness in its magic. It feels new.

And for all that - he knows the days of Skyloft and her Knights are long behind this place.

“Mine,” announces Four, unknowingly confirming Sky’s thoughts. “We’re not far from Lake Hylia, from the looks of it. Anyone wanna watch Wild go fishing again?”

“Hell yeah!” Wind cheers immediately, over Twilight’s groan of frustration.

“Cub, really -”

Wild brightens. “We should compete! See who can catch the most fish for dinner!”

“Now that’s jus’ not fair, Wild, yer explosions will scare off any fish they don’t kill -”

Always happy to stir the pot, Legend says, “Sounds like a skill issue,” and grins at Twilight’s dark look.

Sitting at the base of a tree - or slumping, more accurately - Sky watches their antics with a quiet gaze and no interest in joining in himself.

He’d known it wasn’t likely. The number of times they’ve gone to a familiar Hyrule are far outnumbered by the times no one can identify, and even then, there’s eight other time periods they could land in. He can’t help the disappointment, is all.

Is this what homesickness feels like?

It kinda sucks. No wonder Wind was so miserable.

He’s drawn from contemplating the pooling unhappiness under his ribcage by Four inching closer, hands tucked behind his back. He looks - nervous. Not like he’s going to try to drag him into the water fight now happening on the lake’s shore, at least. Just uncertain. The smile Sky musters for him is probably not a very good one. “Something up, Four?”

“I, um.” Four rocks on his heels, looking almost uncertain. “I… wanted to show you. Something.”

Sky doesn’t actually want to be left alone with his thoughts, so he nods agreeably and hauls himself to his feet. “Lead the way, then.”

Four takes him far enough into the forest that the shouts and laughter and echoes of Wild’s small explosions fade entirely, before choosing a wide clearing to pause in. “I, um.” Four spins, clasping his hands behind his back again. “I noticed that you - well. When the others were talking about loftwings the other day. You got really upset when they were talking about them becoming monsters, or going extinct.”

Ice shoots through Sky’s heart, freezes over his throat for one critical moment. “Yeah,” he finally rasps. “I don’t - it’s - they don’t -”

Four shakes his head. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain it. I just wanted to show you -” He fumbles with his pouch, pulls out a child-sized ocarina that’s not quite too small for his hands.

The tune he plays sounds almost like a birdcall.

It’s pleasant, if mournful. Sweet-toned and piping like wind instruments tend to be. Sky wonders why Four had moved them so far away just to play him a short song, and then -

Wingbeats. Loud and unmistakeable.

He startles and looks up as a shadow passes overhead - a shadow too large to be any of the birds of Four’s era - and all he can see is a half-silhouette framed in the sun, but his heart leaps at the familiarity.

And when they land -

A loftwing.

Small, but distinctive: the beak broad and long and golden, the curl of their crest and their tail. Pure white, save the bars of colour across the feathertips - Sky’s never seen one like them and he’s never been so relieved.

“Her name is Zeffa,” Four says, from where he’s half-wrapped around the loftwing’s neck in a hug.

“You never told me you had a loftwing,” Sky breathes, stepping forward to greet them - to greet her, as she reaches out in curious welcome.

Four shrugs, feathers ruffling against his back. “I never knew what they were called. She was always just Zeffa, to me. She came to me when I was eight, in the middle of my first adventure. She saved my life,” he adds, snuggling his face into the side of hers as she ducks down and croons at him.

Sky takes the opportunity to look her over more closely. Definitely smaller than average, but with Four as her rider they’re perfectly proportioned. Her feathers are all clean white, no countershading or freckles or markings except the traditional wing bars, the gold fringed by something he’s never seen before. He’d thought it was a simple deep blue at first but it keeps changing colour as Zeffa shifts and the light hits it in different ways. Green one way, red another; a rainbow trapped in keratin fibre.

Sky can feel the grin creeping across his face; wouldn’t dream of trying to stop. “She suits you.”

Four grins back. He looks so comfortable, standing in the shade of Zeffa’s beak and leaning up against her. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Her mind is different to Crimson’s, all shades of cool water instead of open sky and cloud, but it’s still crystal clear. Greetings, Chosen Hero.

“Been a while since I heard that one.” Been a while since he’d last spoken with a loftwing, for that matter; he hopes he’s not rusty. Hopes she can sense his delight and fondness and gratitude, for the care she shows to Four.

She clacks her beak at him, pleased.

“Do all the loftwings call you that?” Four asks, riveted, and Sky’s heart swells at the knowledge that Four can hear her too.

“Usually just the ones who don’t know me personally, or the ones who are making fun of me.” He steps closer, with her approval.

The top of her head barely clears his own. Taking that into account, Sky thinks her beak is a little smaller, too. She smells of feathers and ozone and rain. She smells like home.

“So loftwings do still exist.”

She regards him with something like sorrow, and his heart drops.

I am the last.

I was born towards the end of your reign; the last true loftwing born to Skyloft. And I knew even then that I would be waiting a long time for my beloved. I was born knowing it.

You grieved that, even then. I was too young to tell you, but I will say now, in hopes you will remember: I do not regret the waiting. They were worth waiting for. She tugs Four’s headband playfully, making him shout in protest when it slips over his eyes.

“How long did you have to wait?” Sky whispers, heart aching. Even if she says - he knows it’s a long, long time between Four’s era and his own.

She shrugs, wings settling back against her sides. Who can say? What is time, and how does it pass? Is it truly waiting, to simply live?

And oh, her personality is shining through - mischief hidden under patience, the glee of being deliberately and annoyingly cryptic. No wonder Four didn’t know what she was. Every attempt to ask was probably met with a riddle until he gave up. Sky finds himself smiling again. Even though it hurts. “You still had to be alone, and for that, I’m sorry.”

There is no fault to claim. All things change. From the kikwi to the zora - as the world changes, all must change with it, or be left behind. She runs her beak through his hair, an attempt at comfort.

Sky buries his face in the side of her neck.

I am the last. But do not grieve us.

Four tugs on his sleeve, breaking the focus of his connection. “C’mon, I wanna - I’ve still got something to show you, Zeffa’s not all of it.”

Sky glances back towards the lake. “Is it far?” They’ve been gone long enough as it is, really, and he doesn’t want the others wasting their time searching for them in a panic.

Four shrugs. “It’s fine. I told Time where we’d be going. C’mon, hop on, it’s not far by air but I wouldn’t wanna walk.” He follows his own advice, clambering up Zeffa’s side with ease and sitting across her shoulders, legs in front of her wings. He doesn’t even seem to notice the lack of saddle.

Why would he? Sky thinks with another pang. Loftwing saddlers haven’t been needed for centuries. Does Four even know they existed? “Are you sure she can carry us both? I’m pretty heavy.”

Four looks offended on Zeffa’s behalf. “She’s not that small! And she’s taken multiple people before!”

I will be fine, your majesty. Zeffa clacks at him, amused.

Sky deliberately does not pay attention to that last part. “If you’re sure I won’t hurt her…”

“You won’t,” says Four, and he’s so confident with him that Sky believes him.

There’s nowhere to jump from so like Four he mounts up on the ground, Four in front and Sky behind. It makes him nervous, riding without a saddle - not because he thinks he’ll fall off, but because what if he hurts her? Crushes her feathers the wrong way, clamps down too tight without leather to buffer the force? And is Four sure she can take off from here, getting airborne is hard enough without carrying so much extra weight -

She turns her head to laugh at him with one large, dark eye.

Her wings spread wide. They’re beautiful in the sunlight, red and green flashing at the edges of her primaries. There’s even some purple in the shadows closest to her body, all four of Four’s tunic colours shining through her wings. Goddess, she fits him so beautifully.

Two steps and a powerful wingbeat and then the air is rushing up around them, catching them like they were already falling, and they’re in the air. It can only have been magic but Sky doesn’t know where it came from; can’t bring himself to care, when the forest is getting smaller and blurrier under their feet and the wind is streaming ice-cold against his face and neck and ears.

Goddess, he’s missed this.

The sky looks so much more beautiful from up here; the clouds like they could be solid enough to walk on (though he knows that’s not true). Laid out beneath them is the kingdom, in lines and squares and patches of colour, abstract and strange. Could he draw a map of this, Sky wonders? Could he figure out where things used to be, if he can find the right landmarks?

Four grins at him over his shoulder, delighted by Sky’s happiness.

True to Four’s word, they’re not in the air long before Zeffa is banking, beginning a descent that for the first time in years makes a pang of disappointment rise in Sky’s gut. Goddess, he wants to go home.

Four lets him jump off when they get close, but doesn’t follow. Sky has a moment of panic before remembering Four definitely has a gliding item, he’s not trapped up there, and then Zeffa’s actually landing with the Hero of the Four Sword still perched on her back. There’s another blast of definitely wind magic as she touches down, cushioning what might otherwise have been a heavy landing. That explains it. Does that happen every time? Is it something Zeffa learned, since there are no sky islands to jump off of here? He’ll have to ask her, later.

“Where are we?” Sky says as Four swings off the loftwing’s back. The ruins they landed in are ancient and unfamiliar, but he thinks - he can almost understand the text carved into stone, if he tilts his head and squints. He doesn’t know this place - it just - echoes, somehow.

“The Fortress of Winds,” Four says. He hasn’t moved from the centre platform, still pressed up against Zeffa as he watches Sky move around. “This is where I first met Zeffa.”

“Uh huh?” Sky’s listening, he swears, but there’s something about the letters on this stone tablet, almost but not-quite the same as his own. If he squints just a little - no, maybe this way -?

Four comes over to tug on his sleeve again. “C’mere, I think you’re moving too much.”

They both sit in the shade thrown by Zeffa, as she spreads her wings to sunbathe.

“Are we waiting for something?”

“Shhhh,” is all Four says in response.

Sky gives up and settles in. With Zeffa’s wing breaking the worst of the wind, and her dusty feather-smell surrounding him, Sky’s the most relaxed he’s been in weeks.

Then he starts to hear something.

High-pitched chitters and whistles, the beating of small wings. Four had said there were no monsters left in the fortress, but that sure sounded like keese to Sky. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, he turns his head to peer around the edge of Zeffa’s wing.

His heart leaps into his throat and stays there.

Birds. Brightly coloured, greens and blues and oranges, perching on the rockwork and hopping around the lichen-covered floor.

Their beaks are short and sharply curved. They’ve lost the long, flexible tails that streamed out behind them in flight, replaced by a fan of feathers that seems impractically small. The feather banding is missing, the white and gold of the goddess and the contrasting partner flashings.

And of course, they’re tiny. Small enough to sit on an outstretched arm; the smallest could sit on his hand.

But the crests are still there, three wispy, curling feathers on the back of the skull that flex and stretch as they chatter amongst themselves. There’s still a flash of intelligence in their small, dark eyes. The nearest hops closer and chirps in greeting, and he feels a press of joy! and welcome! and sneaky, mischievous play? Play! Play with us!

Sky doesn’t realise he’s crying until the tears spill over in hot rivers. Four shoots him a worried look.

“They’re still here,” he chokes out, and smiles.

After everything, the loftwings are still here.

[yuurei20]

Epel Facts Part 7: Epel and Sebek

We see Sebek and Epel meet for possibly the first time in a vignette where Sebek sits next to Epel in the cafeteria due to the lack of available seating.

Epel is carving an apple into a bird at the time, which impresses Sebek extremely.

He asks what other things Epel can carve and Epel is initially reluctant but he acquiesces after Sebek calls his carving a fascinating art, saying that he also has a personal interest in them.

Epel carves a rose, a castle and a poison apple for Sebek, who asks to receive the poison apple carving as a gift, saying, “I can’t reiterate enough how in awe I am of your skill.”

Epel explains that he taught himself how to carve in order to help his family sell bruised or damaged fruit, and though he cut his fingers more time than he can count and his family laughed at him, he persevered.

Sebek says that it has been a pleasure to hear about, as he has learned that Epel’s ambition is on par with his skill, and Epel offers to make him more carvings the next time he receives a shipment of apples from home.

Epel says he received macarons from Sebek for his birthday and they ate them together: “Thanks to him, they tasted better than they usually do.”

Epel invites Sebek to his hometown after Grim tells him to ask the first person he sees, calling out to Sebek on Epel’s behalf. Sebek initially refuses the invitation to participate in the sled race, saying that he has no interest in a race that serves as a “mere festival sideshow.”

Epel proceeds to use various tactics to change Sebek’s mind: Finally Epel asks, “If only there were a skilled athlete at this school who was equally strong with magic. Someone who was the very definition of brawny” (with light and sparkles).

Sebek declares that such an athlete is right here and Epel whispers, “Yesss! It worked!”

While Jade and Idia encourage setting up pitfalls on the race course to sabotage their opponents, Epel and Sebek join forces against them, saying, “I saw we beat ‘em fair and square...otherwise it won’t feel right!"Jade and Idia respond, “You freshmen are so dull—ah, I mean, diligent” and “Such arbitrary ‘morals’.”

Sebek intentionally crashes into Epel’s sled during the race in order to see him from a falling tree, knocking himself off course and becoming lost.Epel, Idia and Jade save Sebek from an avalanche (that he caused by yelling Epel’s name) and Epel apologizes for causing him so much trouble, but Sebek declares that they are now even, as he was merely repaying epel for sewing up his torn plushie.

Epel has a voice line about Sebek looking “kinda cute” all bundled up against the cold.

[sunhill-archive]

HEADCANONS FOR SUNHILLS!

"Honey, sugar, sweetpea, pigeon, cutie" - Boothill.

"Darling, dear, Hill, my love, my (any floral pet name)" - Sunday.

Sunday trills and makes other bird sounds when he and Boothill cuddle, at first Boothill thought Sunday had a pet bird or something. "Hey suga' what's that sound?" "what sound?" "Your bird, shut em' up. They're forkin annoyin." "I don't have a bird, dear." "oh!!"

Sunday listens to softer music, mostly classical. Boothill listens to hard metal

After Sunday heard about his daughter, he got Boothill a bunch of custom made dolls that tried its best to look like how Sunday thought of his daughter. He got it completely wrong but Boothill is VERY happy with said dolls.

Boothill ate a huge chunk of bros bible.

[🤠🪽] — Headcanons written by Anon. Thanks for the suggestion!

[lethesbeastie]

Day 6 of bweirdOCtober feat. Wraith! Thought it'd be a fun prompt to drop some lore writing I have for them, so enjoy! :3

The Wraith of the Merchant's Seas

The first thing I remember was the way the light glimmered from beneath the waves. 

I don't know how long I'd been there— floating aimlessly through the open sea. I do know that when I woke up then, for the very first time, I was hungry. 

I was small then— no larger than the captain's compass, able to fit in the palm of one hand.

I don't recall what I ate. Probably plankton or some other microscopic prey, whatever was drifting along with me in the open sea. I do know that I did not try to surface for a very long time.

It was a storm that brought me up eventually. I had no sense of how frightening they were above the water; beneath the waves, it's not much different from the sea at night. Just with worse currents and brighter lights. But well, that time there was a ship nearby. 

The storm killed it. 

Sent its crew and cargo sinking down, down, down into the depths below. Sent it down to me.

I like light. Not. Not a lot of it— hurts my eyes a bit— but I think it's rather pretty. Especially when it catches on something shiny. And that ship, I guess it must've been something rather important, because it sent so many glittering things into the water. 

Took forever for me to collect them all— I've still got a few. Brought em’ to the captain after I decided to stay, though I didn't really understand money at the time. Sold most of it off to buy myself stuff at the markets the first time the crew took me to land. Kept these pearls though. They're pretty. And soft.

The sparkling things made me curious about where they'd come from. I didn't really understand ships— I thought they were like whales, some sort of great beast that lived its life above the waves. (I wasn't entirely wrong about that either, though Captain says the Wanderer is a rather unusual case.) 

Eventually I decided I wanted to learn more about them, these beasts of wood and metal. I understood the whims of sharks and eels and birds. It was only these ships that remained such a stubborn mystery.

I began to follow them on their routes across the sea. First from beneath the waves, then as I got bigger and a bit more bold, from the shadows of their great wooden hulls. 

I learned that ships carried many things. Some held shiny treasures like those I'd found that first night. Others had paper or fabrics, though those didn't tend to do well in the sea. All of them held people

I don't really know what I thought before I saw other people for the first time. For some reason I'd assumed I was alone. I knew fish could think and feel, but most of the little ones didn't seem to plan, and even the bigger ones weren't too keen on anything that didn't get them food. 

The people on the boats were different. They weren't simple like fish. They made noises and touched one another, wore strange colors and moved in stranger ways. 

I thought they were beautiful. 

They did not feel the same.

The first time I got spotted by a sailor, I think they thought I was a baby kraken— some sort of little sea beast, still too small to do harm. They threw things into the water at me, pointed and made strange sounds. I didn't like it, so I dove away. 

The next sailors that saw me threw spears. 

After that, I decided that no matter how curious I was, I'd never let the sailors see me. It was too dangerous, too frightening to face them and the metal claws they might toss into the depths. 

Still, as I waited for my wounds to heal, I could not ignore the way my curiosity continued to burn. 

I wanted to understand them, these strangers and their wooden beasts and their metal claws. I wanted to know why they feared me so much as to try and take my life. 

I started leaving the water. Climbing up anchor chains and slithering between the rails in the dark.

It was strange, moving out of the water. Sound traveled differently, struck me like a knife between the eyes if I wasn't ready for it. And the lights were so brilliant, so bright. 

I can't say that I really liked it. But I became accustomed to the change. 

Got good at sneaking about and hiding, at following and learning people's routines, how and where they moved, where they looked. 

I learned more about the sorts of things the people kept on the ships. Paper and fabric, though useless beneath the waves, were luxurious when kept dry. The metal claws they used against me before came in many more shapes and sizes, and were used to compensate for their lack of proper teeth or claws. Cooked food was my favorite early discovery, a bowl of half eaten fish soup left cold on the edge of a deck becoming my first forray into the wonderful world of culinary arts. 

There were things the ships helped me learn about myself too. 

The first time I stowed away on a ship, I came across a mirror. 

It was dark in the hold, surrounded by boxes, and I'd been using my bioluminescence to try and sneak a peak when I saw something brilliantly glimmering. I drew closer, then closer, until I hit my head on the glass with a wet smack.

Once I got a handle on my startled squeak of pain, I turned to face my assailant and saw… me. 

Took me a while to understand that that was what I was looking at.  

I didn't look like any of the sailors I'd seen. I didn't look like any of the fish either. I looked... strange. Half formed. Like half eaten bait. I sat there for a long while, examining myself, learning the curves of my face, trying to piece together why I was the way I was. 

After I saw my own face, I came back down to the mirror every night for many weeks, comparing myself in the dim light to people I'd seen. 

That's where I learned how to change.

I've always known how to do it— it's instinct more often than not, an unconscious reaction to the thought that I should hide. Most of the time I'd just mimic rocks or animals, trying to blend in. But there, beneath the deck, I thought of people's faces. And I tried to make their features all my own. It was never quite perfect— I couldn't seem to shake my need for gills and fins— but it made it easier to creep about. Easier to pretend I was something I was not. 

It was dark the night I crept onto the Wanderer's Jaws. 

The night's eye— or the moon rather, as I later learned— was in one of those thinner stages. Like a shark had taken a bite and the flesh had come away clean. Nights like that were always best for creeping onto new ships. Made it harder for the night watch to notice me. I climbed up using the anchor chain, which was hanging low near the water, and slithered across the deck until I found a place to hide.

I remember being confused at the time why there weren't any people on watch. Most boats with any size to em take a lot of hands to man, and while the Wanderer wasn't a particularly grande size, it was still a decently large ship. I don't know what I chalked it up to. Experienced crew or something like that. But eventually I dismissed the emptiness and set to sneaking into the hold. 

I was looking for something interesting in the cargo. I've made a habit over the years of collecting things from the ships I snuck onto. My own sort of treasures. I'd seen a sailor recently using a sparkling gold compass, and decided I wanted one of my own. I hadn't seen one when I decided to board the ship— I just thought that if there were people, it'd be a good place to start.

I didn't end up finding one. I know now that at the time, they'd just left one of their usual markets, which meant most of their cargo was either gold from being paid or other items they planned to sell at their home port. Plus, they weren't the trinket collecting sort. Least, not till I came along. So there wasn't much chance of me stumbling across anything small and sturdy enough for me to keep. 

The food on board was good though. Better than any I'd had before. One of the crew members— a tall, slender thing— had some pets on board.

I'd never seen a goat or a chicken before, since I'd never gone out onto land, but at the time I remember thinking it was rather odd. The goat's milk and chicken's eggs helped supplement the usual sailor’s diet of hardtack and gruel, and they'd gotten several exotic foods in Port, so when I came aboard the cook had taken to crafting up a feast each night. It was wonderful, and I remember wishing very badly that I could somehow eat more than the scraps I'd snatched from the waste buckets when no one was looking. 

I hid on board the ship for two weeks before I was caught. At some point in that first week I'd decided I liked the ship enough to stay till they hit portside, and took to memorizing the crew's shifts and routines so I could avoid them. 

I didn't think much of how few there were aboard till they started to get suspicious of a few stolen things. I thought the trinkets I took were small— shiny bits of metal and glass, things that no one would miss. 

Turns out though that a navigator losing their tools is actually a rather significant cause for alarm. 

I ended up returning them, put em’ back close to where they'd been found. But the damage was done. The crew knew there was someone else on board, and while I was sneaky, I was still lacking in experience with the wider world. It had never occurred to me that I could be tricked and trapped just as easily as the fish I'd learned to catch. 

They ended up setting a trap for me. Left a plate of food unattended in a quiet part of the hull, and ended up finding me tangled in the ship's living rigging, holding a broken shard of the plate as a makeshift knife.

The crew seemed to freeze at the sight. I don't think they really knew what to make of me. Captain told me later that it's not completely unheard of to find orphaned children on the sea. Usually they're found closer to port though, or sulking about on deck after dark. And those children never look like me. 

I'd never really thought about the different kinds of people before then. To me, if it spoke and moved and thought, it was as much of a person as me. I learned later that there were categories though. That people who looked certain ways came from different groups than others. And that some people didn't belong to any group at all. 

Hybrid. That's what I was. That's why I didn't look like anyone else I'd ever know. I was something that shouldn't exist, that didn't, couldn't, wouldn't belong anywhere, or with anyone at all. 

I remember being very, very scared when they caught me. I don't know why, since aside from those sailors in the past with the rocks and harpoons, I'd never really been found before. I didn't have any reason to believe that they'd hurt me. But for some reason, something in my head thought they would. 

It didn't really help that the first thing Captain did upon discovering me there was to chortle out a deep, booming laugh. He was the only one to do so— the rest of the crew were still trying to make sense of my odd assortment of limbs. 

Captain was the first person to try and speak to me. I don't know why, perhaps the other's were too unnerved, too unsure of what I was. By then I'd learned enough language to catch the gist of things, though I wasn't good at talking myself, but it was still hard for me to understand. 

In the end I decided to trust him because of his tone I think. He's a big man, broad shouldered and strong, and while I know now he's got gentle hands, back then they were simply large. He looked like a predatory thing, like the type of fish that had tried to make a meal of me back before I learned to leave the water. 

But his voice. It was hard to be afraid of that voice. 

It was raspy, yet full, and it reminded me of the distant bellows of whalesong. I'd heard him speak before, heard him bellow at the crew and the sea, heard him laugh and roar and howl. 

But here, with me, he was so very quiet. His voice was soft, and warm, and calm. 

I don't know why, but I felt like I could trust him. And when he held out his hand, so large compared to mine, I decided to take it. 

It's been years since then, that first frightening night. The crew taught me common, how to read and write and speak. Told me the tales the sailors told of the wraith of the merchant's seas— tales about me. They gave me my meals, and my bed, and my name. 

I've learned a lot since then, about the world and about myself. 

It is more dangerous for me than I'd realized, to travel as a hybrid on the sea. We have to be careful no matter where we go to port. 

There are powerful people that hate us, who speak with silver tongues and set the masses on our kind like a frenzy of sharks. It's safer to hide what we are when we aren't among friends.  

I'm especially good at hiding. 

Half changeling, Captain says. He'd never met one himself, but he'd heard of them before I'd come aboard. He went out looking for a few after the crew decided to keep me, wanted to find someone to teach me how to shift. He didn't end up finding one, but he did bring back a few books. I'm good at changing now, good at making myself look like something I'm not. It's sort of like a game of shells and cups.  Under one of these figures is a secret. Most people don't find the right one. 

I miss my crew. They've done so much for me since they found me. Raised me up on the shifting sea. They love me too, I know it. 

That's why I have to bring them home. 

[hannahbarberra162]

hOrnithology for Beginners, Chapter 4

on Ao3 Previous chapter

Unfortunately the real Imperial Woodpecker is thought to be extinct.

ALSO were none of you going to tell me that the beetle would be poisonous not venomous?! I made this mistake in front of Marco, smh.

Marco POV

You had to be fucking with him, right? Either that or he was being severely punished for a heinous crime in another life. Because the sight of you stripping down in front of him while he couldn’t respond was almost too much. He’d seen some of your figure before, but nothing like this. You were absolutely perfect, legs toned from all the hiking you did but also thick in all the right places. He did feel guilty - he knew you wouldn’t want him seeing you naked if you knew he was also Marco the pirate - but he couldn’t stop himself from watching. You were like a little water nymph, jumping and splashing happily in the waterfall. This was one of the times he missed swimming but he contented himself by watching you. 

“I went on a date today,” you said, breaking the silence. “It was OK, but it was with a pirate.”  Interesting, he would get to hear your perspective. It was a little strange that you would tell this to a mythical bird you befriended, but you were a unique woman. Marco decided to help himself to some of your dried pineapple, flying down from his perch.

“I hate pirates,” you said, floating on your back. Marco watched mesmerized as your breasts and hair floated freely in the water, the pertness of your nipples distracting him from your words. “They’re always trying to kill or take living creatures to sell. Always selfish. Bad tippers too.” You pulled yourself to standing, still half submerged in the water. The water cascaded off you in rivulets down your chest, and he was suddenly thirsty. 

“Is that what happened to you? Did you escape from Whitebeard’s ship?” Marco shook his head as he finally registered your question. It was endearing you wanted to help but he didn’t want his captain vilified for something he didn’t do. At least now he knew the reasons behind your passionate hatred of pirates.

“I have so many questions for you. Would you want to answer any?” you looked at him imploringly. He shook his head again. He didn’t want to get himself into any more trouble than he was already in by answering questions. Besides, he would rather hear you talk about your impressions of him. 

“Of course, I’m sorry,” you said abashedly. You pushed yourself to sit on a rock jutting out over the edge of the pool, dangling your legs in the water and your torso exposed. You started kicking your legs gently, which jiggled your breasts with every kick. It was hypnotic.

“This pirate was alright. I think he actually listened when I talked, which is different from most pirates. Well, most guys really. Most of ‘em just listen when they think it’ll get me to sleep with ‘em. But I wasn’t going to either way so he didn’t need to impress me.” Marco trilled softly to show he was paying attention. He had listened to everything you’d said today - your knowledge was fascinating and he enjoyed hearing you speak about your interests.  

You smiled warmly. “Not like you, right? You’d never do that.” Marco cooed to confirm. If his brothers ever found out he spoke to you like a bird he’d never hear the end of it. You stared off at the waterfall.

“He is very good looking though. I don’t like pirates, I didn’t say I wasn’t attracted to ‘em…” You trailed off in thought. Marco ate more of the pineapple and you looked over at him happily. You were so beautiful when you smiled at him, it felt like a warm summer breeze under a cerulean sky. At least you found him attractive, he could work with that. It would be better if you liked his personality, but at least he had a foothold. Er, talonhold. 

“Ha! I’m justifying my feelings to a phoenix. How sad is that? I hope you didn’t mind.” In response Marco came closer to you. You stopped moving and watched his slow approach. Marco stopped a few feet away from you and raised his wing. His primary feathers stopped a few inches from you. You looked at him wildly when Marco trilled.

“Are you sure?” you brought your fingertips up. Marco trilled again, quieter this time. You reached out slowly and extended your index finger to his primary feathers. You ever so gently stroked down one feather and Marco swore you shivered. You trailed your fingers down his feathers with such a light touch he could barely feel it. It felt like a whisper of a kiss on his skin and it was hard to concentrate. You were teasing him with complete innocence and it was increasing his desire to an unbearable degree. 

“You have no idea how much this means to me,” you said with tears in your eyes. Marco suddenly felt guilty - he didn’t know you’d have such an emotional reaction to touching him. He could guess that you didn’t like to show your softer emotions to strangers, and definitely not while naked. He fluttered his wing and a feather trailed down in the air. He picked it up with his beak and handed it to you. You took the feather with shaking hands, clutching it tightly.

“I’ve been looking for a feather since I saw you on the island. I will never sell it. Thank you.” You bowed your head to him. Marco got the distinct feeling you’d be more upset about bowing to him than being naked in front of him. He was in trouble.

Your POV

Aside from the date stuff, which really wasn’t that bad, today was the best day of your life. You got to touch a phoenix, confirm your suspicions that it could communicate, it gave you a feather, and you’d gotten to touch a phoenix . You were walking on clouds, you couldn’t contain your happiness. After bowing to your phoenix (when had it become your phoenix?) it had flown back to the perch, peering down at you every so often. You finished up your swim and put your now dry clothes back on. It was now evening and your stomach growled loudly. 

“I’m going to make dinner. Would you like some?” you asked your phoenix. The phoenix shook its head regally, like the monarch it was. It took a little time to make dinner - you first had to gather wood and start a fire. Gathering the wood didn’t take long as you were in a forest and you assembled the kindling into a cone so it would catch fire quickly. You sorted through your pack, looking for your flintstone when you heard the sound of fire catching. Confused, you glanced back at the now blazing fire and the pleased face of your phoenix.

“Is there anything you can’t do? You really are the perfect creature,” you told the phoenix dreamily. The phoenix preened at your words, looking pleased with itself. It gently cooed at you one last time and sailed off into the night with a flap of its gorgeous blue wings. You sighed and ran the feather it had given you over your face, enjoying the sensation under the darkening evening sky.

~~~

Marco POV

Unfortunately, Marco had to leave. He had other duties to attend to and also wanted to check in on Ace. He assumed Ace would be busy until morning but the doctor in him just wanted to make sure he was at least on the mend. He flew away from you reluctantly as you watched him glide through the sky. Their days on the island were dwindling and he’d have to leave you soon. Selfishly, he’d been enjoying your worship of his phoenix form. The phoenix, though part of him, had a personality of its own. It absolutely thrived on praise and adoration. Marco didn’t think he needed it, but having you dote on him scratched an itch he hadn’t realized he had. Flying himself back to the inhabited part of the island, he soared over Etta’s house and heard Ace…doing well. He was glad Ace was no longer in pain but didn’t stick around to hear the details. 

Landing on the ship’s deck, Marco braced himself for the inevitable onslaught of questions from his brothers. Thatch was the first to spot him and wandered over with a shit eating grin.

“So, how was the double date?”

“Good yoi.” Ace was so far the only one who knew the full story and Marco wanted to keep it that way. 

“Where’s Ace? Had a better ending than you?” 

“Kind of, he touched that poisonous beetle. The aphrodisiac one. He’s…working it off right now.” Thatch laughed heartily and Marco smiled. Ace got into all kinds of trouble, he was young and reckless and it made for good stories. Well, for the others at least. 

“ Jozu, I owe you 50 Beri, he did touch it!” Thatch yelled across the deck, still laughing. This wasn’t their first time to the island, the rest of them knew not to touch the Peel Rhino Beetle. 

“But your date was a sour grape? It was that …friendly waitress, right?” Marco had hoped Thatch would drop it, but no such luck.

“She was nice, actually. I spent a long time with her. She’s quite knowledgeable about birds - wants to be an Ornithologist. Made for good conversation yoi.” Marco took the opportunity to leave - he had spent a few hours away and was sure there was work waiting for him back in his office. Besides, he’d be catching up with you again, and soon.

~~~

Early the next morning, Marco flew to Etta’s house, making sure to shift completely into his human form before getting close to the town. Marco wasn’t used to how long walking took - flying was so much faster. But he didn’t want to risk you seeing him in a partial transformation. His plan today was to charm you into liking him as a man, not as a bird. After all, he’d been on the Grand Line a long time, he was no stranger to attracting women. And he knew that you at least found him attractive. True, he didn’t usually have to try, but it was the thrill of the challenge. He had a few tricks he was willing to use if it endeared him to you.

After listening for a minute to see if anyone was busy , Marco knocked on the door to Etta’s house loudly. No one answered so he knocked again, louder. He finally heard someone scurrying around and the door cracked open. He saw a tired but happy looking Etta behind the door. Marco smiled at the young woman.

“Good morning yoi. How’re you and Ace doing?” Marco asked cordially.

“Ace’s sleeping now but doing better. The, uh, poison is mostly gone.” Etta finished her sentence with a blush on her cheeks. 

“Glad to hear it. I’ll leave you two be, I’m sure you need some rest.” Marco turned to go with a smile, but Etta stopped him.

“Wait, how was the rest of your date?” Marco pursed his lips. He wasn’t sure what Etta did and didn’t know.

“It ended after I brought Ace here yoi.” Etta put her hands on her hips, arms akimbo with an incredulous look on her face.

“Don’t lie. I know you’re the Phoenix she’s been seeing around the island. I’m not going to say anything, I think this might be good for her. She’s a really sweet person, just a little… guarded.” Etta explained. Marco heard Ace moaning for Etta from within the house. Etta and Marco locked eyes.

“I’ve gotta go,” Etta said, her blush returning. 

“Enjoy,” Marco said simply. Etta turned bright red and shut the door. Ah, to be young and poisoned. 

~~~

Already knowing where you were likely to be, Marco picked his way over to the waterfall. He wanted to “surprise” you and see if he could sway your opinion of him. He made his way over carefully, making sure to make enough noise to alert you to his presence. Though it wouldn’t affect him, being shot with a dart gun wouldn’t feel great either. He entered the clearing, pretending to take in the scene for the first time. He sat down on a rock near the waterfall and enjoyed the peace and quiet. 

“Marco?!” he heard you call from the other side of the pool. You didn’t look happy to see him.

“How did you find this place? Did you follow me?” you stalked up to him with a finger pointed in his direction. 

“So suspicious yoi,” Marco said without heat. He had anticipated such a reaction from you. “I checked Ace and Etta this morning to make sure they’re OK. After I thought I’d hike around the island, see what’s here.” Marco threw in the bit about your friend to hook you into conversation with him. You dropped your scowl.

“How are they doing?” you said, biting your lip. 

“Ace is better, Etta took care of him.” He saw your face heat slightly, which he found cute. 

“Anyway, I thought I would enjoy bird watching while I’m still on the island, which brought me here.”

Your POV

Your eyes narrowed, you weren’t sure if you believed him. But you couldn’t prove he had done anything wrong. Besides, it’s not like you owned the waterfall, he could go where he wanted. You considered it your special place, but it wasn’t actually yours. You had been drawing the phoenix feather in great detail when he’d come up to your camping area. You’d moved the feather for safety but your sketches were still out and you wanted to go hide them from his prying eyes. You turned to move back to your belongings when you spotted an Imperial woodpecker in a nearby tree.

“Marco,” you whispered, not moving “look over there.” If he liked birds, he might enjoy this rare treat. If he didn’t ask you to sell it, that is.

“Nice, yoi. Imperial woodpecker.” Marco whistled an incredibly accurate bird call to it, causing it to chirp back. You listened to the two of them singing back and forth until the woodpecker decided to fly off. Two points to the pirate - he correctly identified the bird at first glance and you’d never heard such a good birdcall before.

“That’s a good skill to have,” you remarked casually. He didn’t need to know how impressed you were. Marco shrugged.

“Birds like me yoi. I’m hoping we’ll see some uncommon species today.”

“What do you mean, we? ” He wasn’t planning on tagging along with you again, was he? Just as you were about to tell him off, the Imperial woodpecker returned with a mate and chick. Your mouth dropped - you just had to draw this. You’d never seen a family unit of Imperials together before - they were said to mate for life. It almost looked like the male and female were showing off their young, but why? You slowly grabbed your notebook and pencils, sketching on the clean opposite page. You drew the family unit from various angles until they flew away once more. As you were putting the finishing touches on your sketches, you felt Marco peering over your shoulder.

“Hey!” you exclaimed, crushing the notebook to your chest. “I told you, they’re private!”

“You really are very good,” Marco complimented you. “What was that bird on the opposite page? It looked interesting.”

“None of your business.” He was a nosy guy, for a pirate. You hoped he hadn’t seen too many of your phoenix drawings. You’d expanded on the real life sketches you’d had and were now drawing the phoenix in different positions, some of which were kind of funny. You had drawn the phoenix next to you under the waterfall, annoyed about being drenched with water, steam rising from its non-fiery head. It was childish but made you laugh.

You assessed the situation - Marco was tolerable enough, had a talent for bird calling, and wasn’t terrible looking. Maybe it would be OK if you spent another few hours with him. You didn’t need to become mates for life, after all. 

“We can go bird watching together, I’ll show you some hot spots. But don’t look at my drawings again.” You’d never extended an invitation like this to a man before, you hoped he felt special.

“It’s a date yoi,” Marco said, smiling. 

~~~

You’d had an unbelievably successful day bird watching with Marco. They almost seemed drawn to him, warbling and chirping to his astounding calls. Bird songs filled the air no matter where you went on the island. You wished there was some way for you to record the sounds, but the closest you could get was Marco’s ability to mimic them. You were elated - you were thankful for whatever weather was bringing all these birds to the island and to your sight. You were so happy that you were actually being friendly with Marco. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about birding, despite his protests that he wasn’t a professional. He had a dry sense of humor, matching your own, and had even made you laugh a few times. It might have been your favorite date you’d ever been on. You even showed him some of your sketches of birds, not the phoenix of course, but some of the birds you’d seen together. He asked to keep one, and you wavered.

“I don’t give these out, they’re-”

“Private, I know yoi. It's OK, I’m not offended.” 

You were feeling generous and Marco was looking gorgeous. “Hold still for a moment,” you ordered, taking out your pencils. You did a rough sketch of Marco as a bird, complete with fluff on his head and glasses. Just something silly as a thanks for such a good day together. You ripped off the page and handed it to him. Marco looked at it, then at you.

“Are you sure …never mind.” Marco started to say something but stopped midway.

“You don’t like it? I’m sorry, it was just for fun.” You were feeling self conscious, you didn’t show your drawings often.

“No, I like it a lot yoi. But isn’t it missing something?” Marco said, looking down at the paper.

“Hm, I don’t think so, let me see.” You crossed over to him, standing shoulder to shoulder. You glanced down at the drawing. 

“Nope, got your glasses, your hair, your half open eyes and even the tassel on your leg. Got everything,” you teased. You were close together, examining the paper. If you turned your head, you’d be face to face. You were breathing quickly from the close proximity.

“It’s missing your signature, so when you become a famous scientist I have your autograph.” You smiled, what a charmer. You turned to face Marco.

“I can give you something other than my signature.” You leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips.

[blood-grove]

unnatural bleeding

Masterlist

merfolk au!

part 1 -> part 2

parings: gaz x reader

chars: gaz, price , soap , ghost

tws: blood, injuries, violence, past abuse, language, slow burn, rude reader.

a/n: i hope this was alright 😭 not proofread fuck it we ball

Where were you?

You couldn't move,

Were you in holding again?.

You didn't attack anyone, At least no one you could remember.

You still felt bad for that other merfolk they shouldn't have gotten so close.

Your mouth dry as you licked your even dryer lips despite the strange humidity in the air your body felt numb your limbs slack as you tried to look around only to realized you were in darkness shifting as your body regained it's senses.

You eventually woke up your body enough your tail thrashing in its confined space till you realized.

You weren't even in water you were moist yeah damp at the very least, You could feel the rubbery texture starting to agitated old and new wounds. Newer wounds plastered in this weird cold material that you found out was resistant to the water helping your wounds stay closed.

You learned quick back then not to try and scrape it off ending up in the sick bay was near hellish those babying voices, all those hands on you, and those needles the tiny things frightening you after finding out that such a small dose of whatever they gave you could send you helplessly lethargic and eventually unconscious as they shipped you over to a new tank.

But this?

This was weird as the sounds of voices and whirring finally reached your torn ears.

"There starting to wake up c'mon!-"

"You sure the crane is gonna be able to handle all of well that?"

"Yes just fuckin' dump em'"

And then you were suddenly weightless as your vision flooded with light blinding you and not helping your coordination as you fell into the water.

You couldn't breath the hard shock of the temperature of the water and the brightness stunning you enough that you didn't even realized you were free from confinement the brightness of the sun still clearing up the black spots in your vision.

"Is it dead? It's not moving-"

"Fuck we need to go- C'mon!"

"But-"

You finally came to your senses enough has you stole a quick breath of air before diving back under blinking rapidly as you looked around this felt different.

The water lacked its smell of strong chemicals, and nearly vivid teal blue look.

Where the fuck where you?

-

Okay there was a big issue you'd been swimming for a while now.

And you hadn't run into any walls yet.

You found yourself flinching sometimes when you approached what you thought was the end of the tank but it kept going, You didn't think you were in a pool anymore.

You kept swimming resisting the urge to pick at your wounds you were confused beyond belief as you went around there was fish everywhere most avoiding you you would too as you swam around.

You've never seen fish at least not when they weren't floating around dead to the pool bottom.

Vibrant coral still flourishing.

This wasn't right.

A grumble in your throat as you surfaced for a moment blinking as you looked around quickly realizing there was no pool edge in sight.

No person in sight.

No chairs.

No bright lights.

No sounds other than the water it's self and bird up ahead.

Oh fuck.

Wait.

Oh fuck yes.

You dove back down the pervious shock and horror changed into releif.

You were fucking free, You sighed your body slightly relaxing as you swam looking around.

You didn't remember much of the ocean, Barely much memories as a child but the open vastness was familiar you swam around till something or more like someone caught your eye a smaller merfolk collecting seaweed.

You tilted your head should you approach them? Maybe just to see where the hell in the ocean you were.

Or maybe you could scare the shit out of some poor guy who just slashed you with his makeshift knife.

Okay maybe slowly stalking up to him like a predator wasn't the smartest idea, You knew larger merfolk hunted and regularly ate smaller or merfolk who were more prey-like than usual if that made any sense.

But stabbing you?

That felt personal, Now you were desperately chasing after this guy trying to apologize and beg him to stop swimming it was starting to piss you off.

From behind you could see him better or at lease see what his mer half was better.

Shark.

Oh.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You eventually catch up to him grabbing him not at all gently flipping him around as you exhaled grumbling you'd need to take a breath soon and all the biting and scratching he was now doing.

"Fucking stop- Look I'm not going to eat you will you just!-"

"Get the fuck off me you fuckin' asshole!-"

"Look please I just need-"

"Si!-"

And then you feel like you got hit by a boulder as the mer you had previously been shaking and trying for him to stop yelling was yanked from you.

It took you a second to realized you were being dragged down your teeth meeting your attacker flesh as you struggled with whoever this was they were heavier and larger than you which didn't help your predicament that you needed air and quick.

Scratches and bites exchanged as they pushed to drag you deeper now you could say with full intent they wanted to drown you, You finally bit down as hard as you could as you slammed your tail against there body finally getting them off as you swam to the surface catching a quick breath before diving down and finally seeing what you where up against.

A orca mer much larger than yourself barreling towards you.

You barely had time to react as you flipped slamming your tail fin into him head first before darting off as fast as you could taking quick gasps of air till you felt you were no longer in his sights.

You surfaced panting heavily the reality of your wounds set in and your adrenaline wore off finally making you realize how tired you were you kept on swimming trying to ignore your own blood dyeing the surrounding waters red.

The reality of it all made you realize there's no injections to save you this time, No bandages and creams to help keep your wounds clean.

You were helpless.

You didn't know why you didn't realize it early, Was it the taste of freedom that blinded you? You had no idea how to hunt, No idea how to properly fight, And no idea how to treat your own wounds.

You eventually forced your self to swim till you saw some semblance of land the weird horrible chemical smells that came from human settlements was familiar too you but you avoided it.

You doubted you'd be recaptured you were too old, Too ugly, Too beaten up to be a nice new attraction having lost your baby face and charm years ago.

You could barely keep yourself awake as you swam yourself to the near perk of rocks it felt too close to the docks but you need something to rest on it was cloudy enough to not risk a sunburn which was something you did not need today.

You just hoped a human wouldn't come along and gawk at you like they usually did sometimes even throw bits of food clearly not made for consumption like you were a stray dog.

You just need a few minutes to rest.

Maybe a hour.

[fountainpenguin]

I got a wonderful comment on "Chalaza" today about how strong my Bdubs dialogue and his inner monologues come across!! :)

He's my favorite to dialogue for in the whole Pixels Imperfect series, so here's a compilation of Bdubs Bits I love in various 'fics of mine:

Martyn is dead, but unfortunately, no one's had the chance to tell that to Martyn. Martyn's in a fishbowl. Well, like… Martyn's soul is in the fishbowl- his skin fell in the Void. Or maybe got vaporized? Not sure. He looks like glowing blue smoothie stuff, complete with weird sprinkle colors, but Bdubs is pretty sure Etho would strangle him if he tried putting Martyn in a cup. Can you get drunk on real souls like you can on raw binary code? Huh…

Nobody in New Star Station's ever seen nothing like this. Or if they have, they sure haven't said that to Bdubs. Etho said the guy's trying to fight a system overload - Martyn; Martyn's trying (Etho says) - but it sure is violent. Geez…

"Chalaza" - Chapter 1

"Scar," Bdubs is saying, and Bdubs has his full wingspan on display. Saliva's dribbling from one corner of his mouth. His eyes are lanterns washing the road, electric green like lamps made of limes. "I love you. Oh, of course I love you… but it's not a full moon. That's our feed!"

[...]

"The hour's mine," Bdubs says again, trembling where he crouches on his hands and feet. His tail smacks once against the floor, wings flaring up. "I'm the devs' perfect killing machine. Aren't you scared?"

One and a Half Birds - Chapter 15

"Why… Why are we eating worms? Are we that low on resources already? I thought we had cows. Why would you do that?"

"Protein." Then, probably since Impulse still looks miffed and is getting miffed-er by the second, he tosses in, "Oh, quit complaining… The wheat is fresh! I just- Like, I just barely made it on the crafting table not five minutes ago. It's only got worms because I just pulled it from the dirt. Not because it's gone gross. It's got nothing to do with that. I don't eat old worms."

"You don't know how old those worms were."

"Babies. It's a new series, Impulse."

Scar, from the distance, "You ate a baby!?"

"Hickory (You Dick)ory Dock"

“Did you get the cobwebs?”

“Oh! Forgot. It was that witch, poking around here. She got me turned around.” Bdubs flapped his hand, already trotting off to get his sword. The sword should be a great way to pull cobwebs off the ceiling, right? You can twist ‘em up like cotton candy. If baby spiders are a thing, they probably crunch real nice on every bite. He checked back only once. And Etho stood there, shivering above a puddle on the floor. “Hey. You should strip. You’re gonna freeze to death.”

“S’okay. Spawn’s not that far.”

“All right… It’s your funeral. And if you die, I’m not burying your body in drippy clothes. That’s how you get mold. That’s how you respawn as a drowned or something.”

"Do Fish People Dream of Magic Gloves?"

"Um…" There's context here. Probably. Impulse pulls back anyway, exhaling hard. "I never had a flock before I joined the New Star portal hub. I had Skizz."

"You didn't have a flock?" Bdubs leans across the bed, eyes shining with invasive curiosity now. The mattress squeaks and dips. When Impulse tightens his lips, Bdubs throws his arms to either side. "Oh, no way! I was there when Skizz brought you to the station! They called me in to check you out! You were spawned beneath the full moon like me, right? 'Course you were; it shows. Only phantom hybrid I ever met whose wingspan beat out mine. 'Never had a flock;' Judas priest… I don't believe that for a second." He slaps the lower part of Impulse's back, which jolts them both as they briefly drain half a heart. They tick up again. Bdubs falls back on the bed with a whump. "Impulse, I was drooling over you and I wasn't even insecure about my status. You were captain material if ever I saw one."

"Like Newlyweds Do"

Getting Impulse into bed takes Herculean effort, and trying to cuddle him is a fight like you wouldn't believe. He's always so stubborn! For real, he acts like plopping his head down on actual pillows is an affront to nature and everything in it. And for what, huh? There's no way that makes him happy. Literally no way.

[...]

See, every relationship's gotta have that one guy who takes initiative. Otherwise, how are you gonna get anywhere? This is basic roleplay 101. He's the instigator; he'll break the ice. This is fine!

Aren't they supposed to be husbands in this game? Husbands should cuddle, probably. Bdubs pushes his shoulder again - shaking it, really - and whispers, "Hey… Are you still up?" in an attempt to get him to turn over.

[...]

"Shut up. Hey, come on. If you didn't want to roleplay married life with me, you wouldn't have agreed to be my husband. You're in love with me."

Impulse makes an excessively rude gesture over his shoulder with one hand, not turning over in the slightest. Bdubs sucks in a gasp, writhing up through the bed sheets, and shakes him back and forth again.

"Hey! You can't do that! What are you tryna say, huh?"

"You Can Sleep While I Drive"

Bdubs is the next to speak up, lifting his head. "Mom, we don't hunt in the Fox Dragon's territory. Scott's asked us not to leave the perimeter. So we don't."

"Your talents are wasted here, BdoubleO100."

"Not wasted." His hands are shaking, though. Martyn stretches out one foot, laying his ankle against Bdubs' own. I've got you, he says in the silence, and Bdubs relaxes his fingertips out from fists. He clears his throat. "I'm a proud captain. I hunt not only for my flock, but for anyone in New Star who can't. That's real noble."

"So it's about the sport?"

"It's about providing."

"Why is InTheLittleWood hungry?"

Another wave of silence crashes down around the table. Martyn's stare is on the numbers in his drinking glass. His hands are in his lap. Bdubs looks at Linda, then at Martyn. Then at Linda again. "Huh?"

Again: "Why is InTheLittleWood hungry?"

"Martyn's fine! He's got his own special hunting ground. He's fine."

"Mum's the Word"

"Why'd you come here in the middle of the night?" Bdubs asks, settling down on the bottom step. He folds his hands in his lap (in the wide, floppy hem of Impulse's shirt, which Etho is not looking at and certainly isn't jealous of). "Must be something big."

"Um." Etho didn't think he'd get this far. Maybe some part of him had still been operating on Yellow Etho instinct, because Yellow Etho wanders and bolts and flutters aimlessly around. He's grateful (maybe) that he opted not to put his chestplate on. He burrows his hands in the hem of his own shirt and kneads them together, much the way Bdubs is doing. "I just… need to talk. I'm having issues with my aggro. With Joel."

That gets Bdubs' attention. "Trouble in paradise? Oh, is this about the bite marks? I saw those. You know, I asked Joel at the pool party and he said you'd been hurting him just about every night. He seemed ready to kick you out. Take back his boat. Were those all from your aggro? He looked like he'd fallen in a pit of zombies!"

[...] "Um… I mean, I wouldn't say living with Joel is ever paradise… But I am having aggro problems. I can't… keep it down."

"I can go all night," Bdubs brags with a hand to his chest, and Impulse snorts on the landing above.

[... Etho] leaves down the hall to go clean. Bdubs follows him, leaving Impulse behind. As Etho starts scraping glass chunks together, Bdubs leans against the couch arm and shakes his head.

"I don't know why you get so worked up about it, Etho. Aggro's not gross. It's natural! We're all adults here; we've got needs! If Joel can't accept that, maybe he's not the right partner for you."

"I've been biting myself," Etho repeats, because Bdubs clearly got lost in the metaphor. Bdubs ignores him, tugging on the edge of his blindfold.

"Hey, there are plenty of salmon in the river. There are other husbands. I'll set you up. Grian and Scar are really going through it; do you like Scar?"

The glass makes a screeching sound as Etho scrapes it together with the broom. "Joel's not my husband." Etho doesn't know what relationship he and Joel are roleplaying. They're not roleplaying much of anything, which severely blurs the lines. Joel never did stop wearing Etho's shirt. He still does, and it's melded with the code of his current skin, and it's confusing and Etho never did ask. "He's my soulmate."

Bdubs shrugs, releasing the bandana. "If you're not comfortable… We could offer you a place to stay here. Impulse and I can put you up. You could join our polycule."

There's a shatter of glass in the kitchen. Followed by thumping palms on the counter, followed by an intake of breath. "Our. WHAT!?"

"Canadian Idiot"

The dogs. Oh, those stupid dogs. They snap at his heels as he tears through the pines as fast as his shoddy boots can take him. He lost one back in the river. He fell. Lost Impulse along the way- they're… they're separated now. Not in roleplay; not the marriage. The marriage is fine! Bdubs has the wedding oath clock on a gold chain around his neck, bouncing up and down against his chest with every flying step he takes. Impulse looked okay, though, like the 'maybe not drowning' kind of fine. He's not. Bdubs would feel it if he were drowning.

His crossbow bangs on every other tree trunk as he sprints across the snow. The dogs are freakin' everywhere. Is this all Pearl's been doing when they play? She never had a soulmate to cuddle up to, so she just kept breeding dogs? There's like a dozen of them, all with huge paws scooping the snow and flinging it behind them on every leap.

Gotta get outta the snow… Where's the- Where's this snowy forest end? I saw the drop-off just a second ago. The wolves prob'ly won't follow over the cliff. Bdubs has a water bucket. The dogs don't. And he'll let them fall. He will, maybe. He doesn't care- they're just stupid dogs. And he likes dogs, but these ones haven't been cuddly puppies in a long time. 

"Seeing Scarlet"

I don't need NOBODY'S social approval or permission. That's my husband. Still gets his tail wagging and everything, even if he doesn't show it. Gosh, isn't he a sweetie? He and Impulse don't always wear their rings, 'cuz it's not like that as often in the Between dimension now like it used to be, but it's… You know. It's still clocks and hugs and elbows in the chest, even if it's not all mwah-mwahs and low-roaming, backside-squeezing hands.

Well. Sometimes it is. I mean, why shouldn't it be? They both had fun. No one's mad at them for it. See, that's the lovely thing about Impulse- ain't he sweet? Bdubs can turn the roleplay on and off with him, and Impulse just goes along with everything. He's wonderful. It's a real shame there aren't more Impulses, because everyone deserves to hang out with him from time to time.

Bdubs tries to find a better place to stand where he's not getting pushed at and stepped on. Not that he can feel it, but it's the principle of the thing. Since he is one of the two shortest in their gang (though he's loath to admit it), maybe he needs a place near the front.

He pushes forward. Souls blur together, blue and overlapping, and the glowing doesn't help with the identity stuff like at all. He can pick out Tango (facing away from him) by the enormous white gash scarred down his right shoulder. Not pointing fingers, but that one's a Bdubs original. You're welcome for helping you look so cool, you're turning heads.

"The Man He Sets His Spawn With"

Impulse keeps breathing. His chest heaves, eyes unraveling Bdubs' entire code and piecing him together again. His gaze dips low, then lifts like a boat at sea. His fingers clench tighter around the sword hilt, which rattles like broken glass in his hand.

"… If I kill you, you just respawn… and I've broken the rules. I'll get in trouble. That's not what I want." Impulse recites it like he's explaining all of this to his first-year self. One hand claws through Bdubs' hair, feeling for… something? It pulls. He's silent. Bdubs keeps breathing too. Then Impulse dips the sword tip lower, against the bobbing spot of his throat. He's really leaning forward funny to get the angle. Maybe 'cuz he's a slime, he's sticky and won't fall. Maybe he's got perma-crouched benefits. Maybe perma-Swift Sneak. At least he's blocking most the rain. Then Impulse whispers, "I think this… isn't how I fix this. Maybe we can just… talk about what happened in 3rd Life? About the betrayal?"

Bdubs gawks up at him, bleeding horror out from every shake. "Can't you just kill me?"

Sparks dribble from Impulse's cheeks, mingled with lightning static and slime blobs and the rain. He's still clutching Bdubs' hair, the sword all too tight against his neck. "Just apologize for betraying me! We were Day 1 alliance in 3rd Life- You, me, and Cleo!"

"Yeah? And I was Cleo's dearly devoted husband back then, and you our 'secret girlfriend' who wanted to get under the armor of everybody on the server; what's your point, Littlefinger?" Bdubs jabs a finger up at him. "Do you want a Get Well Soon card or something? Maybe a care package? A subscription to the Mod of the Month club?"

Dog's Life - Chapter 19

Bdubs paces between them, pulling the throat of his mossy cloak over and over again. A classy gold clock bounces on his hip. "You… you can't do that! You outrank her! This is- Oh, this is gonna be big… This is gonna be the biggest thing people talk about for months. You're getting fed by someone you outrank… Oh, wait 'til BigB finds out about this. Heck, wait 'til the rest of the flock finds out! They're gonna be all over you!" He throws his hands in the air- "Is everybody breaking rules today?"

Aw, geez… Martyn bristles. Cleo shuffles out of the way. "I'm hungry." It's a statement, not a whine. Did he forget I needed food tonight?

Bdubs shoots him a look of pure disgust, his nose all squashed and lip hooked high. "So? Go hunt something. I hunted tonight, and I don't even have wings. Cleo too! It's not like it's hard."

"Bdubs-" Cleo cuts in, but neither looks at her. Martyn flaps out his wings, but Bdubs stays stubborn and glowering all the while.

"Are you gonna watch the eggs while I do that?"

Bdubs laughs. It's a cackle, edged with ribbons of the infamous phantom shriek. He throws back his head. "Freakin' no! I'm not putting in the work just so you get credit for it!"

Dog's Life - Chapter 21

And a bonus sneak peek of this jungle duo scene coming in Dog's Life Chapter 61 (Give or take):

“That’s okay. I’m proud of you for trying. Do you want more?”

Grian shakes his head, pushing his plate across the table. “I shouldn’t. I’m an omnivore; I can eat other things. Anivores eat first. Isn’t that proper?”

“You don’t have to eat it,” Bdubs tells him, pushing the plate back. “But phantoms, we say the souls of insects are for the birds. It’s your right as much as mine. All predators can eat the prey. It’s the abandoned things that get snapped up by phantomkind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need it.”

“Does your hunger meter fill when you eat souls?”

“That’s not the point.”

Bdubs shrugs. He stabs his fork in another piece of soul, then brings it to his mouth. “More for me, then. But I’m serious, G… You should figure out what you want in life. Unlearn shame! Why deny yourself the things that make you happy?” He takes the soul, tines sliding past teeth, as Grian watches with interest from across the table, his head tilted to one side. Bdubs reaches out to take another piece, and Grian’s breathing gets a little stronger. By this point, Bdubs is standing just to lean, stretching over the table and taking scraps two or three pieces at a time with the stabbing trident tines. As he draws them to his mouth, fangs on display and saliva dripping, he meets Grian’s wide eyes again. So the trident stalls.

“You want it, baby?”

“… Yes.”

===

He is so ?!?? <3

[deartouya]

TIME OF YEAR — HAWKS

summary: the week following valentine's day, you start getting a gift a day. they're always sitting on your desk when you get in, never attached to any note, and always something that you'd like. then a certain pro-hero shows up at your door brandishing a bouquet.

pairing: hawks x gn!reader

wordcount: 1.4k

content: reader works in miruko's agency, fluff, stocked full of (very american) valentine's fluff and cliches, gift giving as a weird confession, best friend bakugou bc i can't help myself, mentions of food/eating.

happy valentine's day lovies !!! i barely finished this in time but ;-; it's done !! and i had to write something for keigo bc i love him dearly ;-; i hope you enjoy my self indulgence even if it's not my best work !

Working for Miruko's agency has been surprisingly mundane for a top hero agency. Spending your day filing reports and attempting to lessen the load of paperwork for her and the dozens of sidekicks she worked with. You'd grown fond of the routine, comfortable with your daily cafe runs and lunches spent working at your desk. It was nice, normal.

The past week has been weird, though.

It started with a rose. Soft and creamy maroon petals left in the center of your desk without a note or any hint of who had left it. You thought it'd been a mistake, someone mistaking your office for someone else's, but no one in the entire office building recognized or claimed it. So you found a dusty flower vase under your sink and kept it on the corner of your desk.

Next were blueberry muffins. You recognized the little white box from your favorite bakery the moment you saw it, the one nestled in a corner of the city which is almost always empty. Buttery and still warm when you finally willed yourself to open it. You couldn't help the warmth which filled your chest at the smell of them and you ate two of them for breakfast before starting your paperwork.

The rest of the week was filled with more gifts, all practical or catered perfectly to your own tastes; a pair of cashmere gloves a muted gray, a coffee from your favorite cafe just the way you ordered it, a shiny broach in the shape of two doves, a travel coffee mug not too much after your own finally worn out. Nothing that hinted at whoever's been leaving them for you.

 "Come on, Katsuki," you lament, folding yourself pathetically over your desk, "you're always at the office--you have to have seen them come to my office! And you're the only one who knows I go to that bakery every morning, you have to know!" He snorts, barely looking up from his own stack of reports to see the considerably large box of heart-shaped chocolates. The rich, fancy kind that if you ever had a craving for you would've had to save half your paychecks.

His eyes seem to get stuck on the ribbon holding it shut, on the sliver of something soft and red poking out. You pluck it out, expecting a sticky note or card--anything but a feather the size of your index finger.

"Is this supposed to be a hint?" Katsuki only stares blankly at you, something akin to amusement warming the red of his eyes as your annoyance mounts, "do they have a pet bird? I don't think I know anyone with a parrot--except for that one guy from tech but his is blue."

Katsuki rolls his eyes, dropping his pen and shoving his chair away from his desk, “and why would he leave a hint? If he wanted you to know who he was he wouldla left a fuckin’ note on one of of ‘em.”

“I don’t know! I’m tired of not knowing,” you collapse back into your chair to stare forlornly at the ceiling, “no one in the building will admit to leaving them and we both know that they’re awful liars.” You’d tracked down nearly everyone who worked on your floor to ask about the gifts, even cornering an extremely nervous Midoriya in the elevator on your way home. None of them admitted to it. And none of them paid nearly enough attention to know where you bought your muffins or coffees from. 

“You’re overthinking.” 

You huffed, arms crossed over your chest as Katsuki returned to his paperwork. “I just don’t know who’s doing it, no one’s seemed nervous around me and I haven’t gone on a date in months.”

“Might make you less stressed,” Katsuki snips, a flash of canines when you chuck your now emptied coffee cup at his head—which he blocks easily with a laugh. 

“I’m serious, Katsuki. I’ve never had someone all that interested in me—let alone this interested. I just want to figure out who it is.”

He softens just a little, sighing and dropping the empty cup in the bin beside him. You know you’re being childish, pestering him all week over something as trivial as a potential secret admirer when you both have stacks of paperwork and endless reports.

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon.” That look’s back, something passing slowly over his face—like he’s considering his words carefully, hiding what he knows, “Valentine's day’s tomorrow—maybe he’ll show up then.”

You don’t notice anything weird until you get to your office. Oblivious with the expectant stares of your co-workers, the raptness in which they watch you hurry to your office, the way they all look at eachother. Until you’re confronted with an incredibly familiar and out of place set of eyes, “Hawks!”

He starts at the sound of your voice despite facing the door, fingers tightening around a bouquet of budding peonies and wings ruffled and restless behind him. He looks out of place in your office—large and imposing, standing awkwardly in front of your desk and feathers twitching behind him.

Pictures could never do Hawks justice. He’s always prettier, brighter—the warmth of his hair and the flush of freckles across his nose—in person. He’s larger than life, all wide smiles and crimson wings, and no amount of photographers can capture all of him as he is. Breathtaking. But now, he looks nearly skittish.

Hawks smiles at you then—nervous and disarmingly ill-practiced for someone whose job is half made up of practiced smiles—and brings the bouquet just a little closer to his chest. “I saw these while I was on patrol… it’s that time of year, isn’t it?” His voice is quiet, something soft and tender that makes you feel warm all over.

Everything hits you very suddenly—the feather, the knowing way Katsuki had behaved when questioned, every pricey gift that had been left. Hawks visited the agency all the time, visited you in your office and had taken you for coffee at the very cafe your gift came from. He’d also put the final nail in your travel mug’s coffin, knocking it off the edge of your desk the last time he’d visited you with a teasing feather. Of course it’d been him.

“You left the gifts. You’re my secret admirer,” you say dumbly, sounding quiet and childish even to yourself. 

But Hawks flushes, chin tucking into the plushness of his collar and failing to hide his wide and boyish grin, “I did—I am.” His hand—noticeably bare and warm—cups your own, transferring the bouquet of soft pinks and reds to you. “And these made me think of you when I saw them in the shop—you said peonies were your favorites.”

You flounder under the weight of his grin, the sweetness of flowers, the heady smell of his cologne, and the crispness of wind which always surrounds him. You’ve never been this close to him, always had a buffer in the form of mutual friend or coworker to soften the interaction. It’s overwhelming to be this close knowing he likes you. Knowing he pays such attention to you.

A swell of emotions overtakes you, grin so wide it aches and his own seems to mirror it. Hawks is warm, a slow gentle heat which seeps into you and melts against your skin from where his hands are skating up your arms. It’s dizzying and you find yourself leaning into him, overcome with the sudden urge to kiss him, to be even closer, to curl your hands into the softness of his collar and pull him into you.

But you don’t.

His wings twitch again behind him again, restless ruffling as he lifts a hand to rub at the nape of his neck. You track the movement with a smile—it’s oddly endearing to see him acting so human, so unlike everything you’re used to seeing of him. “Do you want to get dinner after patrol?” Golden eyes flick over your face, as if looking for any hesitance—discomfort. He doesn’t find any. “There’s this really good yakitori place down the street.”

“Sounds like a date, Kei.” His smile’s immediate, blindingly bright and so wide the corners of his eyes wrinkle.

“A date,” he echoes giddily, face flushed and smile half-concealed behind his hand.

[hauntingblue]

CAUSE THIS IS THRILLER (bark), THRILLER (bark) NIGHT

Usopp's outfit is so funny for reals

He got the whole squad laughing

Luffy enablers at it again.... (Robin.... I know.....)

The humor panels so far have been so good!!! God this arc is so funny

HE SAID IT‼️‼️

They look like birds 😭😭

It's just too good... luffy taking cerberus and zombies what can't he do

It's just banger after banger what can I say

Franky feeling for other people because of his guilt complex and sanji lying through his teeth and pulling out the women excuse to seem unaffected... yeah

Look at them.... look how they ate

Omg joyboy reference?? (No)

Sanji is rubbing off on usopp.... also chopper noticing that is sogeking's weapon akdhaksjak

ANOTHER SLAY!!!!!

Their priorities: I'm not strong enough, there isn't enough food, and nami isn't here

Franky going from wanting to kill brook for his jokes to making a joke like his after he hears his backstory... exactly (Robin was already enabling him before the backstory even fdagjsfha)

Sanji is altering his body and actually being on fire to communicate to us how fucking mad he is..... I need more of him going insane I do I do

My god what is he doing ALDJALAJALA

AHSAHAHQHAH THEY ARE THE SAME!!! naaah sanji wouldn't force a woman to be his wife

You cant see me but I am nodding my head in agreement over and over

You don't understand he altered his body to communicate to us how mad he is. He inploded himself and then reconstituted again. Those germa 66 genes are insane

You tell em usopp!!!! The first of many girls you've scared into defeat!!! Akdjqknql

Zoro zombie regressed to not trusting robin akdjaks he's still in there

ROBI-CHO SUPLEX??? HELL YEAAAAAH

There is zosa- [GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT GUNSHOT]

Super frapper gong.... he is doing combo shots with frobin... omg.... parents....

Everything is so fun I'm having such a good time reading.... and then zosan angst like damn I am being fed well here

[zorosleftmantit101]

One piece men things that just make sense part 2

Characters: Not fucked to right em

A/N: y'all gobbled up my last one so I decided to grace you with more.

C/W: gulp, mentions of telling ppl to kts, vomit.

• Ko-fi • Masterlist • Taglist •

Luffy: Ate the little washing gel things your meant to put in the washing machine

Usopp: Has audibly just said the world "Gulp" in a bad situation.

Zoro: The crew had to hold an intervention because he kept telling Sanji to khs.

Sanji: got caught dancing with a mop while cleaning the kitchen.

Franky: Threw a disco party and three minutes in just fucking projectile vomited everywhere. Party over.

Kid: has booted a child at full speed.

Killer: accidentally stumbled into a sexy firefighter strip show while looking for Kid.

Law: chews plastic straws as a hobby

Shanks: has just sent photos of his cock to the group chat saying "do my balls look hairy in this photo"

Buggy: said shanks balls look like two baby birds huddled for warmth.

Crocodile: kicked shanks and buggy from the group chat

Mihawk: cut his phone in half after seeing shanks shrivelled nuts

Doflamingo: Startes an only fans where he reads dad jokes out-loud while sobbing.

Corazon: owns six limited edition hot wheels toy cars.

Taglist: @yxxrinniiee69 @trafalgardnami @gumgumslip