#a feather on the wind

[bearsinpotatosacks]

Callie Bassett-Shen - Feather in the Wind

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Callie is exceedingly self-sufficient and doesn't realise that maybe accepting help isn't a bad thing.

Words: 2372

Goose awoke to the soft smell of cinnamon on the early spring day. He smiled, wondering what Carole had made for breakfast that smelt so damn good, only to turn over and find her sleeping soundly beside him.

Getting up and putting on his glasses, his bones creaking reminding him that was racing towards forty, he decided to figure out what was going on. No one else was awake. Rare silence floated around as he crept around.

Yet, when he entered the kitchen, there were clean dishes on the drying rack, dishes that weren't there the night before. He hummed and saw some ingredients for french toast left out on the side. Who had made that? And how had they done it quietly enough to not wake anyone?

Feeling slightly defeated, he went to return to bed, only to glance outside at the soft blue sky and see Callie Bassett-Shen pegging out laundry on their washing line. She was sharing a room with Natasha and the two were getting along well, especially considering how much Natasha was coming along since she arrived. Carole had told him about what had happened to her and he was horrified, he knew bad things happened to some kids in care but being faced with it was something else entirely. 

Stepping out onto the porch, he called to her, "Morning."

She must have been in her own world, as upon his call, she jumped out of her skin. He walked onto the dew covered grass to help her with the last few items. A thin layer of moisture made his feet slippery, maybe he should've put some shoes on.

As he began placing socks on the line, her posture changed. Every now and then she'd give him a side eye, only to stop as soon as he met it with a smile.

"I can do this myself, you know," she eventually said.

"I know," he replied, then added. "We could've washed your clothes, you know, with everyone else's?"

She shrugged and placed the last t-shirt on the line. A slight breeze picked up, the clothes fluttered in it. 

"I'm guessing you're the one who made the french toast?"

She nodded and went to get the washing basket and pegs. He beat her to it, giving her yet another smile even though he felt the bend in his spine. Just like the doctor said, his body was stiffening up more than a normal person's would with age. His accident still lingered in his body no matter how much work he put in to push past it. 

"Yet again, we could've helped with that."

She opened the door for him, "I know, but I don't need help to do it, so why ask?"

"That's not the point of us helping,"

"Then what is?"

He paused, placing the basket down, then placing his hands on his hips.

"You'll figure it out." He said, then carried the basket to the utility and left her standing there puzzled in the light of the sun blinking through the blinds.

~~~~

The school run was always hectic but somehow today it was even more so. Bradley was rushing around getting his lunch together, despite Carole trying to get him to make it the night before. Natasha was already outside tapping her foot. Mickey ran around trying to find a toy, no figurine, he insisted on bringing to school to show Reuben.

And there, in the middle of it all, was Callie. She wasn't rushing everyone like Natasha or slowing everyone down like Bradley and Mickey. She was just sitting at the table giving everyone a slightly condescending look.

"Callie, right, where's your stuff, sweetie?" Carole said with her head in the fridge. "I can't see your sandwich in here, did you make it?"

"No, I made myself some noodles for my lunch," 

She kicked her backpack on the floor beside her. Carole peaked out from behind the fridge door.

"When did you do that?" 

"This morning?"

Carole thought back to the morning. She’d woken up at six and it seemed like there was only her and Nick up. After her shower, and a lovely hour of free time before they woke up the kids, she hadn't heard anything from Callie. Unless she woke up even earlier, she had no idea when she would've had time to make her own lunch, let alone noodles.

"When?"

"When I got up?"

"And that was?" Carole tried not to look as slow as she felt.

"6:30, it didn’t take me long," 

Carole shut the fridge door as Mickey came racing down the stairs, finally ready. She hurried Callie along, still perplexed at how organised she was, as they headed out toward the minivan. 

"Maybe next time I can help, if it doesn't take long," she said.

She just managed to get a glimpse of her confused look and mild shrug before rolling the door shut. They were now running late and had two schools to get to. If only she was as organised as Callie appeared to be. 

~~~~

Goose finally had a moment to himself. All the kids were entertained. Carole was knitting in the living room, probably in less peace than he was right now, Bradley and Mickey were playing some video game and he knew they could get loud. 

He was in the shed, which they'd converted into a makeshift pottery studio. After going to a class on a whim one day, he'd fallen in love with the craft. It was his new hobby despite him not being the best, Carole had called his stuff 'Wobblyware'. His body was getting stiffer and more painful as he aged, his injury from top gun still enacting its revenge, and he couldn’t run like he used to, so a new hobby was welcomed.

There was something about the slow movement, gently taking the time to craft something of his own. For a little while, he was granted his own space and took it gratefully. 

Breaking this peace, Carole walked in in a flurry of anxiety. He stopped the wheel and looked up at her.

"What's wrong?" He asked. 

"Have you seen Callie recently?"

He shook his head, "No," he said, then, "Why?"

"I can't find her."

His calm broke. He assumed she was entertaining herself like the rest of the kids. Thinking back, he didn't remember her talking about going anywhere or meeting anyone. 

"When did you last see her?" He asked. 

"This morning, at breakfast, have you seen her since then?"

"No, I asked her if she wanted to come to the store and she said no."

Carole's face paled. She raked her hands through her hair as she began to hyperventilate. Goose hurried to her side to calm her down.

"Hey, she can't have gone far, we'll find her okay?"

He held her in a strong embrace. Worry knotted deep in his gut as he wondered where she could be. Perhaps she ran away, she would be their first. It was to be expected but didn't ease the stress slowly inching in around him.

He stroked Carole's hair as he tried to assure himself, "We'll find her."

~~~~

Natasha watched them return to the car with grave faces, and for good reason. Callie wasn't with them. Usually she didn't care if someone ran away, she didn't like to care about anyone, but she’d started to bond with her. They were both self-sufficient, both knew what it was like to be the only person they could rely on, both found Goose and Carole sweet nature a bit too much sometimes.

Upon getting back to the car, Carole crumpled into Goose's arms again. Natasha could tell he was trying to be the strong one but knew by the faint look on his face that he was struggling too. 

"What if we don't find her?" She said, her words muffled through the window.

"We will, we've just got to check somewhere else."

"But we've checked everywhere we can think of! All over the house, up and down the street, at the school, at her old house, there's nowhere else!"

Her head fell onto Goose's shoulder, he rested his head on her's. He scrunched his eyes shut, his hands tense around her as they came to the realisation that they may have actually lost a child.

Yet, just when all hope seemed to be lost, Natasha had an idea. All week, Callie had been talking about Lunar New Year. The food she told her about made her stomach rumble. It was the only time she really mentioned her parents. It wasn't like she had a bad relationship with them, she denied it with vigour anytime someone insinuated that she did, but they’d been going away for work more and more over the recent years until Callie had to fend entirely for herself. 

She yanked off her seatbelt and ran out of the car to Goose and Carole. They broke their embrace, Carole's eyes were red. 

"I think I might know where Callie is."

~~~~

Chinatown may be a bit of an exaggeration. It was, more accurately, two streets of bakeries, restaurants, butchers, wholesalers, groceries and other stores filled with goods you couldn't find in most shops. People milled about with shopping bags, glancing in windows and talking in other languages.

Goose and Carole, along with the rest of their kids, cut through the crowds in increasing amounts of panic. Natasha had told them how much Callie spoke of Lunar New Year and all the foods her family would make. Maybe she'd gone there to get a few things?

"Callie!" Carole yelled down the street. "Callie!"

They couldn't see her amongst the people. Carole began to panic as she settled herself on the idea that she was gone for good.

Goose stopped her spiralling and held her by the shoulders. There was just as much panic in his eyes as she was feeling, yet he managed to block it out. He had been in the navy after all, they'd trained panic out of him at the Academy.

"How about I check that way with Brad and Mickey-" he gestured to his left. "And you go the other way with Nat, okay?"

She nodded and kissed him on the cheek before darting off into various shops. Luckily, she'd brought a photo with her to show to people. Yet, no matter how many times she asked if they'd seen her, no matter how many times she repeated her description or flashed the photo, no one had seen her.

They were running out of shops, down near where the street met the road, when all hope seemed lost. She'd never felt this defeated before. What if they were deemed unfit and the kids got taken off them? She wouldn't know if they would go to a good home, with loving carers, or another bad one. 

Natasha may think she could cope but Carole couldn't live with herself if she fell back on that icy exterior she used to protect herself. And Mickey, sure he was growing up, but she wouldn't know if someone would be as patient with his ramblings like her and Goose were.

"Carole, look-" Natasha tugged on her arm and pointed to someone coming out of a butcher's across the street. "Is that her?"

It sure seemed like it. Black hair in two plaits hanging down on either side of her head. She was even wearing the same stripey purple top with denim dungarees like she was this morning. It was her.

"Callie?" 

She looked up from a piece of paper and spotted them. Her eyes widened as she moved to see Goose running to her. Carole joined him and was soon bolting toward her.

"Callie, oh my goodness, what were you thinking, disappearing like that?" She exclaimed, pulling her into a hug.

She didn't want to let her go but knew she had to when Goose tapped on her shoulder. He took the bags from her, giving her a smile as she rubbed her arm.

"I'm sorry if you're mad, I-I won't do it again."

Goose lent down, "Callie, we're not mad, you just scared us that's all."

"But I just went shopping, for new year, I do it all the time."

He sighed, smiling again, "I know, and we're not denying that you're perfectly self-sufficient, but to us we saw a  fourteen year old disappearing with no note of where she could be." She went to say something but he carried on. "And we don't want to lock you up like Rapunzel, but maybe tell us next time so we can pick you up and drop you off and know where you are, okay?"

She nodded and they headed back to the car. Goose took a gander in the bags.

"What did you buy anyway?"

"Ingredients."

"For?"

"Food."

They reached the minivan. Goose placed the bags in the back of the car and slid open the door for the kids. Callie still seemed ashamed. She sat on her hands and didn't make any conversation, even with Natasha when she tried.

As Carole drove them home, Goose made eye contact with Callie through the rear view mirror. 

"When is Lunar New Year anyway?"

"Monday."

"Maybe we could help?"

She seemed to ponder that fact for a second before answering, "Maybe."

Goose settled, satisfied. They carried on driving.

~~~~

It had been another chaotic day. Early morning marinating. Cooking all afternoon. All for this. Callie had shown them the other traditions, money in red envelopes, lanterns decorated the house. They'd even got some fireworks for later.

"So, what've got here, exactly?" Bradley asked.

"Sweet and Sour Fish, Shrimp in Longjing Tea, Stewed Bamboo Shoots, Spiced Soy Duck, Steamed Buns, Dumplings and Spring Rolls." Callie said, pointing to each bowl in the middle of the table.

"It's a lot," Goose said, he was trying to hold his chopsticks and struggling greatly, Carole lent over to correct how he held them. "So we better get started!"

And as she watched them all tuck in, she finally understood what Nick meant when he caught her putting out the washing. Sure, she could have done this by herself, but she didn't have to. That's what this was all about.

I spent an ungodly amount of time researching food from the Hangzhou region of China. And yes, I specified the region Callie's family is from because it states her actress speaks the Hangzhou dialect of mandarin as well as general mandarin.

Also, Goose being a potter is a headcanon I hold close to my heart (I'm from an area in the UK called the potteries so it's my heritage I guess).

Also also, Goose having general stiffness and chronic pain after his accident in Top Gun just makes sense to me. It was a serious accident, he literally died, so in an AU where he lives I reckon he wouldn’t just be hunky dory after.

Thanks for reading!

[zillychu]

get MOLTED, idiot

[articskele]

(Source) I swear this scene is made of magic

[snototter]

A striped feather-legged solifuge (Solpugiba lineata) in Karatu, Tanzania

by erica_onnis

[layraket]

the chain as little creatures part 2!!!

now i really want to make this an AU, i have so many ideas for them.

i had the idea of making wind a little pig because of the little pigs on his island, but i guess he being a little seagull fits more with the pirate thing

Close ups!

[iffondrels-library]

Even more LU in botw/totk outfits! I guess I'm doing them all haha

Featuring: Warriors in the Royal Guard uniform and Wind in the Snowquill set.

[al-luviec]

golden child, black sheep (and other things)

[majorproblems77]

Happy birthday Chosen

Writing I did for myself. Thought I'd share it with you all. :)

Sky was a sentimental guy, all of the links agreed on that much. Always going out of his way to make them smile or give them comfort when they otherwise wouldn't have had it.

So when the conversations of birthdays came up no one thought anything of it. Each one of them had something different from lighting cakes on fire to giving favourite foods, getting to choose destinations or just getting to have a day to rest. Each one of the links had a different way of celebrating.

The rest day sounded like Sky's favourite version if he had to admit.

"I always choose to go to my private island so the crew can have a day to relax! We dont get that way very often, but they love it!" Wind smiled, counting something on his fingers. "But my birthday isn't for some time yet."

"What about you Sky? What do you people do for birthdays?" The captain smiled over the fire towards the Skylofitan, who placed a hand to his chin.

"Well, we gather the town. And our loftwings gift us with a feather Before we get things from other people."

"Your loftwings moult?"

"Yeah? They are about the same age as us, normally to the day. And they shed only a few feathers twice a year. On their birthdays and six or so months later."

"I'd have thought they would all shed at a time of year. Like my cat does. So much fur..." The captain shuddered while the rancher laughed.

"Captain you have a cat? You never told me you had a cat." The captain nodded

the skyloftian chuckled, "You'd think, but imagine the amount of feathers that would litter skyloft of that was the case."

The captain thought about it, "That's surprisingly nice of the goddess."

The skyloftian pulled his bag from behind him, pulling out a singular red feather. "You guys have seen me wear this. And it's got two purple feathers near the top of it."

The group nodded. Hyrule, who was sitting beside the skyloftian looked closely at the feather as it shifted across the skyloftians hand.

"Those purple feathers belong to Zelda's loftwing. It was her gift to me last year." He smiled looking off to the side slightly. "Iris even picked the ones for me herself. It was very sweet of her." The skyloftian smiled down at the feathers. Carding them through his fingers.

"When is your birthday anyway Sky? We've all figured out ours but not yours?" Legend asked, knocking the skyloftian's shoulder as he looked beside him.

"Oh, thats nothing to worry about."

"Skyyyyyyy. Tell ussssssss." The sailor stood up and walked over to the skyloftian flinging his arms around him from behind. "Or I'll bug you all night about it."

"We have a different calendar to you, even if I told you you wouldn't know when it was."

"All the more reason to tell us Sky!" Hyrule knocked the skyloftian, "I know we haven't got much and this journey is a tough one. But it'll be good to know!"

The skyloftian sighed. "From my assumptions, and watching how the sun moves, it's today?" Gasps went across the group as they all sat upright. A chorus of words ran across the team.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Sky!"

"Come on now chosen!"

"You could have told us!"

"We've had a busy day. That last battle took it out of us. I wanted to make sure you were all okay."The skyloftain smiled raising a hand behind his head only to find the sailor still gripping him. Now even tighter.

"I dont believe a word of that." Sky looked up to see Time looking intently towards him. "Tomorrow we are absolutely doing something, No questions asked" Time smiled.

"But we are less than a day out from the ranch Time. I wouldn't want to keep us."

"Who said you were keeping us." Time turned to the group, "Tomorrow is a rest day. We will make our way to the ranch the day after. Now get some rest all of you."

Sky nodded and stood up, the sailor still firmly attached to him. chuckling he flung his arms under the sailor's legs to carry him on his back and walked them over to their bedrolls. Placing the sailor down before he himself lay down to rest.

The following morning was bright and cheery. The sun shone warm and bright through the trees.

The camp was bustling with activity. Everyone was awake and working to pack up as quickly as they could.

All apart from one, and they planned to keep it that way.

Sky was resting soundly on his bedroll. Having fallen asleep quite quickly the night before.

"Okay Twilight, It's about an hour to the ranch. You reckon you can carry him?" Time asked, Flinging the rancher's bag across his shoulder.

"I've got this. Let's get him into an actual bed." The rancher raised a hand, signalling the captain who nodded. Pointing into the trees to the wide space of Hyrule field. Before coming over.

"Wild has gone on ahead, he should be about done by the time we get there if we walk quickly."

"Then let's go!" The sailor bounced over, smiling wide. "This is going to be the best birthday present ever for him."

The skyloftian was lifted and placed onto the Rancher's back, arms wrapped around his neck and sailcloth wrapped around him.

The walk was uneventful, as the team made they're way across Hyrule field into the ranch.

Malon and Wild were waiting at the door when they turned into the ranch. Malon smiled and waved, opening the door for the rancher and following him in to help get Sky into a bed.

"Pumpkin pie and soup. Ready to go when he is. Did you guys get here alright?" Wild looked over the team briefly, who gave nods of encouragement.

"We did." The captain said, "Now I'm going to get this bag down I forget how much Sky actually carries."

As he walked inside. wind called out to him, "Dont forget to put the master sword in with him. He gets nightmares without it!"

The captain waved in acknowledgement as he walked into the ranch house.

"Wonderful, now it's time for the presents. four, there's a forge, that me and malon use to make new horseshoes. Will that be enough for you?" Time smiled pointing across the field where the sight of a small smithing table could be seen.

The smith nodded, looking in the same direction "Anything works. Legend, Wind and Hyrule. You guys are with me." He pointed to each of them in turn before looking to Time. "Do you have steel?"

"We do. We should have had a shipment recently. And Malon's sent Talon to the town to grab some gemstones."

"good. I'm going to need a few hours." Time nodded as the small team turned away walking towards the forge around the side of the horse field.

"Now we keep Sky asleep."

"Leave that to me." Time pat the blue ocarina on his waist, "There's that melody he plays a lot. And I think I've learnt it."

With tasks in hand, each group want to do their respective tasks.

When Sky awoke it wasn't to the sun gently kissing his face, but he could hear the gentle melody of Zelda's lullaby gently floating through his ears.

Reaching out in front of him he found Fi's blade, a gentle smile drifting across his face he reached out for it. when his hand contacted something soft.

The sailcloth. Right. tucking it into himself he smiled.

He felt. Well rested, for the first time in a long time.

"Afternoon."

Afternoon?

Afternoon!

"Wha..?" He shot up quickly taking in his surroundings. this was the ranch, How had they gotten to the ranch? When had they?

"Hey... relax, we decided to let you sleep in today." Time stood up, walking over to the bed as he offered a hand. "the others have something to show you."

He took the offered hand. "Sorry for sleeping in..."

"It's no bother. Twilight carried you here. We thought it would be nicer for you to sleep in an actual bed." He directed Sky out of the room and downstairs.

"Happy birthday Sky!"

The first thing he saw was a flash of blue as two arms enveloped him.

the sailor...

"come on! We've got some stuff for you!" He said, pulling at the skyloftians's arm as he was walked into the room. a small pile of boxes on the centre table.

"Come on Come on Come on!"

Various gifts were handed to him as excited voices sounded. He got an enchanted ring from legend, a small pressed flower from Hyrule. A drawing of crimson from Wind, and a new sword sheath band from Warriors, Time and Twilight.

"Sorry, you couldn't be home for crimson to give you a feather. But. We made you this." Four stepped forward, holding a small box. "We all worked on it. thought you could use it for your woodworking?"

The skyloftian looked towards the smith before looking down at the box.

Lifting the lid he found a silver blade the same size as the carving knife. It was a relatively short blade with a small indent made into the blade itself. Inside lay a singular red crystal, the Handle of the blade was wrapped in a leather grip. A beautifully simple blade. he held it up to the light above him.

Then he traced his thumb over the guard. And found the taletale feeling of a rachis. The guards, fashioned to look like feathers were wide enough to be practical while also looking beautiful. The detail in their design almost made him want to not use the blade.

Though inspecting it further he discovered it a perfect sharpness for his woodwork. So that idea might be getting scrapped.

"I... This is beautiful." He smiled. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

The smith smiled, the veteran and the traveller beside him. "Happy birthday Sky."

And Sky smiled.

[candycryptids]

I’m actually so terrible at giving my ocs tragic pasts or sad backstories or whatever like is there not already enough pain in this world

I mean sure yeah but the catharsis if they survived it and you can too, or something. Much to think about.

[awkward-parabuteo]

First snow! ❄️

[bearsinpotatosacks]

A Feather on the Wind - Reuben Fitch

Previous Chapter

Reuben refuses to make this place home, but can he get convinced otherwise?

Words: 3492

He'd been waiting for this day for over a week. It was all he'd been waiting for throughout the sleepless nights and smiling faces. The photo he had of his mum was wrinkled from how often he'd held it. He was just glad he didn't have to adjust to a new school, his brain had been so full with adjusting that he wouldn't have made a good start, not that they were making too many concessions for that at his school now.

The clunk of the ticking clock filled the silence. He shuffled his feet on the carpet, fingers were going numb from how he was sitting on them.

The air in this hospice was stuffy. Everything was beige, the walls, the furniture, even the atmosphere was. It was nothing like his home. There were no flowers for a start, his mum was always growing flowers and keeping them in vases around the house.

There was no laughter in these halls. He'd missed his mum's laugh so much. She was everything to him. And now he could only see her when it was arranged prior.

"Reuben Fitch?" The receptionist called.

He sat up and made eye contact. His heart began to quicken its pace. A clammy feeling took over his hands.

"Your mum's ready now, she may be a bit tired but she's been so excited about your visit."

Time stopped for a second. He remembered what it was like before he got taken away. She'd stayed in bed most days but on the days she didn't, her body was frail. He tried his best to help even though she wouldn't let him. It broke his heart to see her so ill.

"Her room's at the end of the corridor," she said and pointed.

Carole stood up and extended a hand. He didn't take it yet couldn’t help but admit that her smile eased the anxiety in his stomach.

The bland scent followed them as they walked past identical beige walls and mediocre artwork. An overcast sky did nothing to make this place feel more alive. Why did he feel like his mum was only going to get worse in such an energy sapping place?

As they reached her door, he stopped, not able to bring himself to open the door. He didn't know what he'd see when he went in. What if she was worse? He pictured an almost lifeless version of his mum, stuck in a chair and destined to never get out of this place. 

"What are you waiting for?" Carole asked.

Her tone wasn't offensive. It was the same sweet one she always had.

"I can't do it."

"Can't do what?" 

"See her."

She hummed and pulled him away from the door. Kneeling down, she looked him straight in the eye and gently rubbed his arm.

"Yes you can," she said. "I know it seems scary now but this is all you've been talking about all week, I know you can do this."

He pushed her hand off, rubbing where she'd touched as he averted her confident gaze. 

"You don't get it, what if she's not like my mum anymore!"

Something else, a shadow of sadness flickered in her blue eyes. He hadn't seen that before.

"I do get it, trust me." She took a deep breath. "My dad had cancer a few years back, he died of it but when it came to the end, I felt just as scared as you are now. I didn't want to see him so ill. That wasn't the dad I remembered."

"But I still went in because I knew he needed me, and because I knew I'd regret it if I didn't," she said. "And I know you can do this, okay?"

He took a deep shaky breath and nodded. His eyes fell back on the door. He could do this, it was his mum, of course he could do this. 

Opening the door with a creak, he saw her sitting near the window. Thin blinds let light through. He could see the garden through the translucent material.

She turned to see him and a smile grew on her fatigued face. There were more lines than before, and no life in her face as she took him in. She was thinner. Her pyjamas hung off her body and a fuzzy blanket wrought tightly around her lithe frame.

"Baby!" Her voice was thin too, breathy. 

She looked at Carole in the doorway for a moment, she must've waved because his mum waved back. The door clicked shut behind him. That heavy feeling in his gut came back. His body was on the verge of shaking like a leaf. 

"Come here, you-" she gestured for him to come closer, he did without thinking despite the anxiety. "Have you grown? And your hair looks so good, and your skin?"

She stroked his cheeks, squishing them as laughter filled the room. But laughter wasn't enough. The walls were still beige. And the garden sat plain and unimaginative outside.

"Are they feeding you? Cleaning your clothes? Not hurting you are they?"

"No, Mum, they're really nice," he nuzzled into her hand. "But I miss your curries, Carole's food is nice but it's not yours."

"But they're good to you, yeah?"

"Yeah, there's this other kid there, not their son, called Mickey who I'm sharing a room with, he's really nice."

Her shoulders relaxed, "I'm glad you made a friend, and their son, he's alright?"

"Yeah, we're about the same age, he's more focused though, not mean, just focuses on himself," he said. "His parents have been foster parents since he was four so I think he's used to new kids by now."

She smiled and lay a kiss on his forehead. He pulled up a chair and sat down as he listened to her talk about life here. Despite her forced optimism, he could see how much this place was wearing her down. The usual wonder in her stories was missing.

“The nurses are looking after me though, Steven is especially nice, he makes sure Fresh Prince is on every Monday and helps me in the garden,” she said

There was a wheeze in her voice as she spoke. He could tell in the way her body tensed around him that she was holding back. But eventually she couldn't hold back anymore and broke into a fit of coughing.

He jumped off her lap as he remembered the last few months of his life. He'd lay awake, listening to her cough over and over again deep into the night. Involuntarily, his hands began to shake. There was nothing more he wanted to do than to help her but he couldn’t move.

"Water, Reuben, baby, pass me the water," she croaked through coughs. 

He stared for a few moments more. A pitcher of water glimmered in the overcast sun. With his hands still shaking, he poured a few splashes of water into a nearby glass and handed it to his mum.

After a few moments, she calmed down but the energy she'd previously had was gone. Instead, it was replaced with that fatigue that he knew well. 

"Tell me how school's been going?" She wheezed.

They weren't going to talk about it? Why were they pushing that off so easily? 

"Good," he said with hesitation. "I've been trying hard in my classes but, with the change, it's been difficult to concentrate."

"That's understandable, baby, and it won't be for too long, right? By the end of the year your dad will be home and this will all go back to normal."

Dad. He missed him like an ache deep within himself. The only reason he was in care was because of the Marines not letting his dad back to look after him. He was in the middle of another tour and the military didn't give parental leave.

"Let's hope so."

They fell into silence. His mum's body slumped as they waited for each of them to say something. Usually, conversation flowed naturally between them but now he could see how little energy she had. 

"Maybe I should go, mum," he said.

"Already? You just got here!"

"I just think you should rest, I want you to get better."

Reluctantly, she nodded with a shallow sigh. He shuffled forward to give her a hug. His fingers tightened on her baggy clothes. Her usual homely scent was gone, replaced with a stuffy, clinical smell that lingered all around. 

"Look after yourself, you," she said.

"You too, mum,"

Tears pricked in his eyes as she kissed him on the forehead. He held onto the feeling of her hand against his cheek as he pulled away. He tried not to see how much she withered as he turned his back to leave. 

~~~

Reuben ws silent on the drive home. He simply stared out the window. From what she could tell, the visit had been alright, she knew better than to go in and intrude if he didn't want her there. But the visit had been short. After his blip of insecurity, he’d gone back to being the excited kid he had been for the past week he'd been with them.

"How was your visit, then?" She tried.

"Good."

"Is your mum looking better?" 

No reply. Maybe that was a no. She wanted to carry on, yet knew that needling him with questions probably wasn't what he wanted.

"I was thinking, maybe next time we could bring her something, like some flowers to light up her room?" She glanced over to him, he'd moved his head to look at her. "Maybe have a think about some stuff she might like, a picture of you might be nice or if you know her favourite flowers then we could get some of them? Just have a think."

"Okay," he mumbled.

They pulled into the drive. Reuben got up like a shot and stormed into the house. He didn't slam any doors or stomp but couldn't look anyone in the eye.

"Hey Reub, how was your v-" Goose started.

He watched him storm up the stairs with a slightly gaping mouth. Bradley came in from the living room, the television playing quietly in the background. 

"What was that about?" He asked.

"No idea," she said. "I mean, he was anxious about seeing his mum but he said it went well, although he didn't tell me very much."

She looked up the stairs again, considering whether she should follow him up there but decided against it. Today had been a tough day, maybe he just needed some time to himself. To process.

~~~

Once he'd got into his room, his and Mickey's room anyway, all he'd wanted was to be alone. His mum had been so frail. Her dreads hung off her head, bags under her eyes made her seem years older than she actually was. The red undertones of her skin had turned ashy and sickly. Fatigue was laced in her eyes.

That wasn't his mum. His mum was the life of the room. She spent hours in the garden, tending to her flowers and humming under her breath.

Where had she gone? Had this cancer taken her away from him so much? Would he ever get her back?

"How was your mum?" Mickey asked. 

He was playing alone in the corner with some action figures from a show he didn't know. To him, this place was home. Goose and Carole were caring and considerate.

For Reuben, though, he didn't want this place to be home. It never could be.

"She's sick, what do you expect?"

"I bet it was nice to see her, though,"

"I guess."

He sat down next to him. A stinging feeling poked his eyes, one he couldn’t stop anymore. He wanted all of this to stop. Why did it have to happen to him? Why did his mum have to be sick? Why did his dad have to be halfway across the world with the Marines? Why couldn’t he just have a normal family?

"If I tell you something will you promise not to tell?"

~~~

Mickey stared at Reuben confused. What was he going to tell him that was so serious?

"Yes."

His mind began to race with possibilities. Maybe he was going to run away. Maybe his mum had actually died and he hadn't told anyone. Maybe he was going to leave because his dad was back from the Marines. 

"Seeing my mum made things worse," Reuben said. 

"Worse? How? She is nice, right?"

"Yeah," Reuben nodded, his eyebrows furrowed in what could be confused, Mickey always struggled to understand. "It's just that it reminded of how little I wanted to be here in the first place."

"But why don't you want to be here? Here's good."

Mickey thought back to his parents. It had taken a bit of adjustment. He still felt uncomfortable around group meals. The shock when Carole cleaned and bandaged his scabs from when he played outside, or when Nick helped him with his school work, remained as full as it had the day before.

"It's not home, though. Home is with my parents, when my mum's not sick and my dad's not away. This place can never be home."

From what Mickey had heard from Reuben, his parents were lovely. They had barbecues and made cakes, they, whenever his dad wasn't out with the marines, went to his parents' evenings and zoos and museums. He came from a strong and loving home whereas Mickey didn't. The only thing he knew of caring homes like that was this place, with the Bradshaws, so the idea that Reuben wasn't happy in a place like this confused him. 

A strange feeling pooled in his gut. He hadn't felt it for a while, not since he was taken away from his parents. To him, there was only one thing different between the Fitches and the Bradshaws. Him.

"My dad's going to be back soon, anyway, and I'll be back home again where things make sense."

His words were far away, as though he was underwater. The feeling in his gut spread up and into his throat. Tears pricked in his eyes. He liked Reuben, he was the closest thing to a friend he'd ever had and now he realised he didn't like him at all. 

It didn't matter what Carole or Nick said, he was the bad thing that made his parents not love him. How could he not be when Reuben hated it here too? They shared a room after all.

He couldn’t sit here anymore. His pulse throbbed in his head as he stood up and darted out of the room.

~~~

Reuben watched as Mickey ran out. Was it something he said? Maybe it was something about his parents, he knew they weren't the best.

He followed him out and down the stairs. In the distance, he heard rapid scrambled words. He barely caught himself as stumbled across the wooden floor and into the kitchen. 

"Okay, slow down, Mickey, and explain it to me again," Carole said.

Mickey was in a flood of tears. Red rimmed eyes overflowing. A sleek sheen from his crying made his cheeks shiny.

"Reuben was saying how he doesn't want to be here but his home and here are both nice but he doesn't like it here so it must be me and he doesn't like me but I want him to like me and-" the words burst out of him all in one breath.

Carole knelt down and patted his shoulder, "Okay, okay-"

Reuben couldn't stand and just watch. The words left his mouth before he had time to think. 

"Dude! You weren't meant to tell her! I told you that was a secret for a reason!" 

This didn't help Mickey's state. He took one look at Reuben and burst into a bigger flood of tears.

Upon hearing the commotion, Nick walked in from the garden. He stood on the threshold for a second, hands on his hips, surveying the situation, before jumping in to help.

"Right, let's all calm down-"

"I don't need to calm down, I want Mickey to apologise for breaking my promise!"

"See!" Mickey sobbed. "He does hate me!"

Carole pulled him into her and wrapped him in her arms. Mickey's hands gripped the back kf her cardigan in a vice-like grip as his sobs were muffled by her skirt.

"Reuben, come outside with me." Nick said with a slight assertive note to it.

He must be mad. Why was he mad at him though? Mickey was the one breaking promises like they didn't mean anything. This was exactly why he didn't like this place, all the rules were different, and there were definite favourites.

As Carole led Mickey into the living room, Reuben followed Goose outside to the back porch. Flowers bordered the garden below. The smell of freshly cut grass floated on the breeze, the lawnmower sat abandoned on the lawn.

"Come on, sit down," Nick patted the steps next to him.

Reuben stared for a moment then sat. Nick didn't say anything at first, his eyes were set straight ahead. In the silence, Reuben focused on the world around him. Birds sang in the distance. Laughter and the burning smell of barbecues solidified early summer.

Reuben couldn't stand the silence, "Are you going to shout at me?"

"No." 

"Then why did you take me out here?"

Nick paused. He turned his head to him. There was a storm in his eyes, something about them reminded him of his dad.

"Your dad's in the military, right?"

"Yeah," he said. "The Marines, why?"

"I used to be in the Navy."

Reuben sat up straighter, "Really?"

"Yeah, I was a Radar Intercept Officer, the backseater in a jet."

"Why did you quit?"

He couldn’t help but ask. There wasn't any memorabilia anywhere. It would explain why people called him Goose, and why his friends only came around every few months.

Nick looked down at his hands. He rubbed the tired skin of his hands as a bitter smile crept onto his face. An aeroplane flew overhead, he watched the trails as they dissipated into the clouds.

"I didn't quit," he said, a wistful tone to his voice. "I went to this elite training school called Top Gun, during one of the exercises something went wrong and we, me and my pilot, Pete, lost control of the jet. When I went to eject, I hit the canopy"

He looked at Reuben, as if questioning whether he should continue, "I broke my neck, cracked my skull, had to learn to walk again. And even though I got back in shape for the Navy, I still couldn't rejoin because my eyesight got worse and I ache too much some days."

Reuben did a double take. He couldn’t tell this had happened to him. There were no visible scars, he didn't seem in pain throughout the time he'd been here. The only visible difference he could see was that he wore thick rimmed glasses when doing anything technical.

"Is that why you became a foster parent?" He asked.

"It was the only thing I knew to do."

He paused for a second then spoke again, "I bet you're wondering what this has to do with anything."

He nodded.

"The whole point of me telling you that, and I didn't mean to scare you or make you think your dad's going to get hurt like that, is to tell you that I know with complete certainty that your dad wants nothing more than to be with you."

He turned to him and placed his hands on his shoulders, "If there was a way he could do his job and be with you and your mum, he would, I know I would've."

Tears sparked in his eyes. His dad had given him a picture of himself to remember him by, Reuben had creased it with how much he'd stroked it during the last few hard months.

"So, if you ever want to talk to someone about him, I'm right here," he smiled. "And Carole knows all about sick parents, so she's got a good ear for that."

"I know you want to go home, I get that, but while you can't, we want to help you feel as comfortable as possible here and help you with all this stuff you've been dealing with, okay?"

He nodded with a sniff. Tears began to roll down his face as all the anguish ran out of him. 

"Do you want a hug?" Nick asked.

Reuben nodded again. If he spoke, he'd begin to sob uncontrollably and he was alright with the state he was in now.

Nick's arms wrapped around him in the perfect way. It wasn't quite like the hugs from his mum that she gave out readily, or the ones from his dad when he came home, but the warmth was still there.

I don't really have much to say about this. I think it's a well put together chapter, and I'm also starting to put more of the characters in other chapters. Mickey is in the Bradshaws long-term care, Reuben's in their short-term care. Thanks for reading!

[shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck]

The great pie heist™

Seagull wind gets into a predicament from this little thing I wrote

[batfossil-fr]

a delightfully stinky hatch

[breannasfluff]

What if... through time/portal shenanigans, Eldritch!Chain met Wing!Wild for a shift

Traveling through time? Check. Meeting alternate versions of a hero? Also check. Legend sits up in his bedroll and stares at Wild. Or…not-Wild. Not their creepy vibes Wild. No, this one is crouched by the fire, cooking what looks like bugs. Oh, and he’s got wings. Because yeah, that’s how this day is going to go.

Legend points, which is rude, but so is dealing with this so early in the morning. “Who are you?”

Not-Wild looks up and honest-to-Hylia chirps at him. Yeah. No. He’s not dealing with this alone. The vet leans across and whacks at Twilight’s bed roll. “Fix this!”

The rancher blinks slowly, entirely too comfortable. “Mornin’. Cub cookin?”

“He’s weird now. What did you do?”

“Me?” Twilight blinks again and sits up, turning to the fire. “Whadja–oh.”

“Yeah. Oh.”

They both stare at the not-Wild. The person? Bird? Avian? Ruffles feathers and fluffs his wings up around his ears at their stare.

Twilight cheats and slaps Time awake. “Somthin’s goin on.”

By the time the old man extracts himself from the bedding, everyone else is awake and staring as well. Time manages an impassive face pretty well, but his tells give him away. The vein next to his eye is twitching. 

“Good morning.”

Bird boy whistles again and looks at his pan. “Breakfast is almost ready.”

“Er, right.” Time shares a helpless glance with Twilight. Goddesses, they really make the vet do all the work, don’t they?

“Hey, kid. Where did you come from? Where’s our Wild?”

He cocks his head and flutters his wings. “I’m with you for now, I guess.”

“Who said?”

“Hylia.”

Well, shit. She would inflict some kind of dimensional weirdness on them. 

Wild gives the pan a shake and waves Four over. “Here. You can have half,” he stresses.

Four sidles closer, the wariness growing to confusion as, likely, he doesn’t feel the need to run for the hills. Then he glances in the pan. “Are those bugs?”

“Yeah. Got some nice crunchy bees.” The avian pops one in his mouth and crunches and oh–Legend would like his weird Wild back. Sure he eats animals whole but they aren’t…bugs. “I’ve got a nice big spider we can split, want some of the legs?”

Four blanches and skitters away to the other side of the clearing. Insane-Wild turns his attention on Warriors. “Catch!” Then he chucks something that smacks the captain in the face. Warriors shrieks and flails. The thing falls to the ground. Wild chatters in what must be disappointment. “That was good quality meat!”

“You threw it in my face!”

“Yeah?”

“I have meat juice. On my face.”

“...why didn’t you catch it?”

The captain joins Four on the other side of the clearing. Most of the others back up as well. 

Twilight makes the next move, coming to stand by Wing Boy. Wild sidles away. Twilight shuffles closer. The champion sidles away again. They continue the weird shuffle all the way around the fire as Wild’s wings get higher and higher. Finally, he gives a strange tsksksks and bites the rancher on the arm.

Now Twilight is yelping and hopping away. “What was that for!”

Wild eyes him, wings ruffled. “Too close. You know better.”

“Nah, I don’t!” He rubs his arm with a truly wounded like. Like a kicked puppy. Fitting, considering his transformation.

Sky steps into the fray, but his eyes are glued to the wings. “Is your nickname still Wild?” he asks, only he’s addressing the wingbone rather than the boy attached to it.

“...yeah.”

“Your wings are beautiful! They remind me of my loftwing.”

Wild loosens slightly, wings drooping. “Yeah, your loftwings are cool.”

The chosen hero, because he has rocks for brains, reaches out and pats some feathers. Wild shrieks and explodes off the ground. His wings kick up clouds of dust and he launches straight up, then flaps into a tree and balances on a branch, hissing down at them. Sky is left blinking in confusion, hand still outstretched. 

It takes a good ten minutes for Wild to flutter back down, during which the bugs have been moved out of sight and eggs and potatoes set to cooking in a new pan. 

Legend watches from the corner of his eye as Wild paces around the edge of the group, then zeroes in on where he sits with Hyrule. He gives a funny bird call and trots over, shoving his way between them. 

“Hey!” Hyrule moves entirely, annoyed at being ousted from his seat. Legend gets a face full of feathers which he doesn’t dare push away. 

The avian trills again, wings pulling in tighter.

“Wild,” Legend says, or tries, muffled by feathers. “We don’t know what you want.”

He chatters at them both. “Force of habit.”

“To steal seats?” Hyrule’s prickly, both because he hasn’t had his morning tea, and because his fae sensibilities have been offended.

“Not stealing.” Wild’s attention is caught by the bag at his feet and he dives for it.

“Hands off!” Time jumps for it as well and a wrestling match begins before Wild lets go of the bag. The old man falls back on his butt and masks spill everywhere. 

Everyone tenses as the fierce Deity mask lands in the dirt, but the avian ignores it to grab for a cow mask. He holds it up with a grin. “This is my favorite.”

Time is still sputtering and Hyrule grabs some of the masks, passing them over. “You can’t just–take things!”

Bird boy blinks back, the picture of innocence. On the other side of the clearing, Twilight sulks. Warriors considers his scarf with misery; must have gotten meat juice on it. Sky’s wariness fades into resignation and he sits next to Four, who’s still a little peaky. 

This Wild inspires no strange feelings, but the absence of them is…disconcerting. It’s like a small piece of Legend’s awareness is missing; like he grew an inch without realizing. 

Wind, who was out collecting wood after his watch enters the clearing with a cheery smile. “Good morning! What did I miss?”

The champion perks up and taps his slate, pulling out a crab and tossing it at the sailor. The crab is, unfortunately, still alive. And angry at being thrown before breakfast–or to be breakfast. The crab attaches itself to Wind with vengeance. 

Wind starts screaming.

Legend closes his eyes to the chaos. Hylia, please give them their old Wild back. Nothing is worth this much chaos in the morning.

[merry-andrews]

Johnny/Kenshi but there never was a Mortal Kombat, Johnny just met him at one of his travels to Japan and now they're married, on a honeymoon. Soft morning with Kenshi kissing top of his head and caressing his body when Johnny lifts his head to ask why Kenshi keeps him around only to be answered; "darling, I wanted to have you all for myself like a cute little pet from the first time we met."

[binah-beloved]

okay what if Abno!Binah had a storybook (y'know like how the birds have storybooks) about a witch in the forest who's role was to draw water from a cursed well (the forest being one stuck in a loop of 50 days per "Cycle of Days"), and there was a traveler from outside that forest who would stop by quite often, and one day the traveler died thanks to some of the beasts of the forest, and the witch cried to the heavens to restart that cycle of 50 days, but she got transformed into a beastly being of talons and feathers and eyes, without memories, feared by humans (from outside the forest) much like other beasts, except one human (the traveler, memories of the past cycles gone) didn't have as much fear, and the now-Witch-Beast vowing to protect the traveler, hoping someday the traveler would understand, and hoping she would one day regain her human form.

also possible EGO gear would provide a boost specifically to the favored employee and resemble Arbiter gear like the cloak

the book only works for you. it listens to no one else, not even showing them the story written on the pages. for them it's merely filled with nothing, a blank book ready to be written in but unable to be inked. but in your hands words suddenly bloom forth, swirling around your fingertips. they're marked with eyes and dim stars that glint at you from all angles as you read a story of the Witch-Beast. the lonely, suffering, monstrous Witch-Beast, ruled by apathy for all except one. this one, it says, the creature holds more dear than all the treasure and gems in the world, more than the moon in the sky. your coworkers allow you to keep the book- it does them no good- and soon a set of clothes appear, black as obsidian and rimmed with gold, a familiar pattern of both Arbiters and certain Abnormalities

it's heavy and warm when you slip the cloak over your shoulders, and it smells of black tea

the Witch-Beast seems particularly pleased when you visit wearing the new gear, circling you with a careful, scrutinizing gaze. you are the only one she reacts to during work, for you have decided the Abnormality is a she- it just seems right. she sits by you, attempting to tuck you against her mangled wings. it takes some flapping and readjusting, the bones all torn and twisted. but when you're finally where she wants you to be the Witch-Beast lets out a low crooning noise, horse and rasping against the ears, and rests her head on your shoulder to pull you into some version of an embrace

it's comforting, surrounded by feathers, and for a moment it feels so tender and familiar and the memory is just at the tip of your fingers before it slips away once more