#also like. maybe when she gets mad she can grow some antlers and start glowing a bit. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alaskan-wallflower · 3 months ago

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okay so fantasy au 😭 i needed to ramble

Mrs Curtis was a nymph. Shes kinda like the nymphs in percy jackson, her skin is leaf green (maybe changes colors in the autumn?) and her hair is this sunstricken golden color and she ofc has leaves in it almost always. I also like lowkey wanna say that she has a tail with leaves at the end too-she loved to make flower crowns and maybe she even photosynthesizes? Who knows! I need to draw this concept out

Mr Curtis was a gargoyle. He’s REALLY terrifying looking but once you actually get to know him he’s a huge goofball. He used to pull faces and stuff to make his sons laugh. He had huge bat like wings and a long spiked tail-he had talons too and his eyes would glow bright yellow when he was mad-like ONLY yellow. The pupils and irises were GONE. He taught Darry how to fly!

Onto Darry-he’s a gryphon/human mix? Kinda? Like a centaur but the lower half is a fire gryphon. He was born normal size but VERY quickly grew and ended up being gryphon sized (Like…50+ft in size, gryphons are BIG) and dude couldn’t fit in the house anymore by the time he was like thirteen :( But he’s a fire gryphon so cold doesn’t bother him much. But his wings are kinda flame colored? He has a mane of harness fire around his neck too and the tip of his lion tail is a flame ofc-when he’s mad though the fire flares up and can become harmful. He still roofs houses but he has to be awful careful with his size, though he also gets paid to clear out areas because he’s so big so he can easily sweep stuff. He’s harmless tho, just a big birb/lion boi

Soda is a centaur-his lower half is a palomino colt and his upper half is human obviously. He REALLY likes having his mane and tail played with and sometimes will just flick his brothers with his tail until they give him attention lmao-he is NOT quiet either like you can hear this boy galloping from a mile away. He’s also a big fan of having his tail braided and sometimes will braid it before. work to make sure oil doesn’t get on it. He’s very prideful of his coat though and likes when people give him attention for how shiny his coat is-He hates cleaning his hooves though because it’s hard to do :( Sometimes he��ll nestle into Darry’s wings after a hard day too :(

Pony is a cervitaur ofc-his lower half is a fallow deer (maybe an axis deer…) but this boy is SO prideful of his antler nubs and styles his hair purposefully to make sure there showing at all times. When his antlers actually start growing though he’s really happy except for when leaves and flowers get stuck in ‘em-but this boy is FAST-like 50mph fast. He could outrun Soda any day (I know horses are faster shhh) but he’s so fun. His coat is also super fluffy…his hair is too thanks to being half deer. He definitely sneaks into orchards to steal their food tho and Darry gives him an earful. Something I’m considering is having one of each curtis brother be in control of some element considering their mom was a nymph…Darry’s fire but I have to decide on the others…maybe Soda’s water and Pony’s earth? Idk)

I’m still deciding what I wanna do for Johnny…I’m thinking kraken or something of that nature? But like he can live on land? Idk what I wanna do for him, I wanna have him be opposite to Dally but I dunno how a kraken would fit into Tulsa…Just a big ol water creature…I’ll probably create my own creature thing for him LMAO

Dally’s a dragon. No doubt. He has a dragon form and a semi human “disguise” of sorts…like he has dragon ears, dragon wings and a dragon tail and he has some splotches of scales along his body but his full dragon form is a sight to behold. He’s about Darry’s size in full dragon form and him and Darry have definitely gotten into some •Godzilla vs Kong” esque fights because Dally kept trying to burn down the jail and Darry had to stop him…Johnny was watching (he’s about the same size as Darry too) and he’s just frantically trying to put all the fires out while yelling at adam LMAO-but this boy is so unruly sometimes…also horns. His horns are sharp as a blade (play it cool little brother…sorry-) and he’s not afraid to use them

Two Bit is definitely an imp to me. He likes to try and pull pranks on the Socs a lot-he’s kinda like an evil looking satyr…like he has little goat hooves and he even has a pitchfork but he’s really not and. He’s just a funny guy who wants to scare people sometimes. He’s a bit smaller than average (like…5’6’’) but he’s still trying to be scary. He has bat wings too and flares then when he’s all angry and tries to make himself look bigger but he just cannot-

Steve’s a werewolf. I don’t have much on him whether :(

I’m debating on keeping the Socs human or making them mythical beings too…I have ideas for Marcia and Cherry and even some of the musical Socs so we’ll see

(also if someone wants to listen to me yap about gryphon darry i mean…👀

#the outsiders #the outsiders au #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #darry curtis #johnny cade #dallas winston #two bit mathews #steve randle #my au #alaska’s yapping

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years ago

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that thing with feathers

[Wing AU]

[Tour]

Word count: 3000

TW: Vomit

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Monday was when it all began, Howard believed. She hadn’t been the first to realize something was wrong, but it was the first day that things started happening.

“Oh my god,” Anne groaned, rubbing her temples. “She has been crying ALL MORNING. WHY WON’T SHE SHUT UP?”

Cleves laughed slightly at her frustration. “Who knows at this point,” She said.

“So much for rehearsals,” Jane muttered.

“Who cares?” Maggie piped up. “We don’t need her!”

There were a few scattered agreements, but Aragon just frowned. She quietly slipped out of the room and followed the sound of crying until she found the source.

The girl inside was the definition of an eyesore. Her wings were a mess, with the outsides being the sleek green-blue of a bee hummingbird and the insides being a smooth expanse of skin and membrane like on a Honduran white bat. Golden brown barn owl fluff was ruffled on her chest and stuffed in her big yellow bat ears. Tiny white, deer-like antlers peeked out from her forehead and red-orange crest feathers were folded back against her head.

She was a hybrid, but everyone just called her a freak.

There were feathers everywhere, red and green and blue and golden brown all clashing horribly together on the floor. Joan was slumped against the wall, bawling her eyes out, shielding her weird body with her strange wings. Her head snapped up when Aragon cleared her throat, and Aragon could see that she was missing several feathers on her cheeks and inside her ears.

“Why are you crying?” Aragon asked.

Joan sniffled. “I’m sorry,” She whispered.

“That’s not what I asked.” Aragon said. She stepped closer, peering at the girl below her. “Are you molting?”

“I-I don’t know,” Joan answered, her voice hoarse from crying. “It hurts…”

Aragon furrowed her eyebrows. “It does?”

Joan nodded and then wrapped her wings around herself again to sob. She looked absolutely pathetic.

“I don’t feel good,” Joan mumbled.

“Well, a lot of people feel that way when they molt,” Aragon said with a light chuckle. She stopped laughing, however, when Joan sobbed once more. She frowned. Something was seriously wrong with this girl.

“Joan?” Aragon knelt down in front of the hybrid. “Are you alright?”

“No,” Joan whispered. “M-my stomach--it hurts.” She looked up from her wings, and her eyes glowed with tears, “S-something’s wrong, Catherine.”

“Maybe it’s just a premature molting,” Aragon said dismissively. “I once had one of those and it--”

“It’s not!”

Joan’s voice was so shrill, like a barn owl screeching, that it made Aragon jump slightly.

“It’s not! Something--something is wrong, Catherine! I don’t f-/feel good/! Why don’t you believe me?”

“I do,” Aragon said. “Calm down, okay? I believe you.”

Joan whimpered feebly. She reached out, grabbed tightly onto Aragon’s sleeve, and whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”

------

Tuesday.

Joan’s fingernails felt like they were shooting out of her fingers. They only stopped hurting when she grated them against a solid surface. Jane dealt with the sound it made when they were sitting together in the rehearsal room waiting for the others to arrive until she couldn’t anymore and politely asked her to stop. Joan obeyed.

Twenty minutes later, Joan started again without even realizing it.

Jane doesn’t say anything this time.

------

Wednesday.

Joan felt itchy and achy all over. First, it started at the plumage over her chest she accidentally made it bleed when she scratched desperately, then it spread to other parts of her body until it felt like she had rolled in poison ivy.

“Uhh... Joan?” Howard said during show preparations that day.

“Yes?” Joan replied.

“Are you okay?”

Joan blinked at her. She lowered her hand from where it had been itching her neck for at least five minutes straight. The marks it made glowered a seething pink in the open air.

“Yes.” She said again.

“Joan has fleas,” Anne said helpfully.

“I do not have fleas.” Joan growled as she scratched behind one of her ears like an itchy dog.

She didn’t have fleas, but there was something under her skin, making its home in her body. She wanted to claw her flesh open and rip it out, and such a lust for that violent alternative scared her.

------

Thursday.

Fangs are growing in over the teeth that are already there—flat teeth, normal teeth. Those have to go.

Her joints ache from kneeling on the cold hardwood floor of her bedroom; even the thin cloth of her pajamas dress did not dispel the chill.

The scales don’t come in right, growing into her skin, itching and scratching. She raked her long, hooked nails over her ribs until she ripped her shirt and drew blood and pus.

Feathers bristled beneath her flesh, as itchy as the scales.

There are bruises on her wrists and wasted biceps, purple and yellow. No fault of anybody- her skin has become so delicate that even the gentlest bump against a surface left a mark.

Fever chills, seizures, blood from her bitten tongue, staining her blankets and drying in a crusty mess on her face.

She hid in her room and told the director over the phone with the most human voice she could muster that she would not be turning up to work that day.

———

Friday.

After the show, everyone got out of the theater as quick as possible to get to the dinner they all had planned. Howard lingered behind for a few minutes to find something she had left, which allowed her to see the one other person still remaining inside the building.

Joan leaning against the wall with her head pressed firmly against its surface, eyes squeezed shut. Her ears were pinned back against her scalp and the feathers on her tightly folded wings were broken, messy, and in disarray. Most of the green-blue color, which usually looked quite beautiful, was splotched with baby down and ugly fledge feathers. Her chest plumage looked a lot patchier than usual.

“Joan?” Howard circled around in front of the girl, keeping her own wings tucked in close. If this was Drop Feather, then she certainly didn’t want to touch Joan. “Are you alright?”

No answer besides a tiny twitch of one of Joan’s ears.

“Joan? Love? Can you hear me?”

Howard noticed that Joan’s cheeks have an odd color tinting them. She also noticed her eyes are kind of glassy when she pried them open and she’s…hot. Like, fever hot. Howard bent closer and set her hands on the girl’s shoulders to steady her, and she could feel her shaking slightly. Joan opened her mouth and panted like a tired animal, and her teeth looked really sharp. Glinting.

Joan reached out and gripped her arms for some kind of grounding, and her nails started tearing her sleeves.

“I think something is wrong with me,” Is what Joan whispered hoarsely right before she went unconscious in Howard’s arms.

------

There’s an unconscious girl in Howard’s bed and claw marks on her neck and back.

The rumbling, fire breathing sky was pouring out rain, and the wind was howling as if the city was falling beneath its elemental talons. Raindrops that had to be as big as oranges pattered against Howard’s bedroom windows loudly, making her worry that they may break, but she quickly turned her attention to the bigger issue at hand.

Joan looked like death itself. Her skin was paler than usual, except for her cheeks, which were dark red from fever. Her face was soaked in sweat, plastering tendrils of damp white-blonde hair to her forehead. She was breathing harshly and blinking her eyes rapidly, fighting to keep away black spots from her vision—or maybe it was to keep back tears.

“Joan, can you hear me?” Howard called out. She sat down on the side of the bed, carefully brushed back Joan’s sweaty bangs, and placed a wet cloth on her forehead. Doing so elicited a small noise of relief through grinding breaths and feeble whimpers. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t--I don’t know,” Joan panted. Her eyelids fluttered shut for a moment, but she forced them back open. “I-I’m sorry--”

“Shh, shh,” Howard shushed her. “It’s okay, sweetheart. No need to apologize. I’m not mad.” She tentatively reached out and rubbed behind one of Joan’s ears, earning a hoarse sigh of contentment. “I think you may be molting, honey. But since you’re a hybrid, your body doesn’t really know what to do with all the different genes. The old feathers and scales still hanging on could be making you feel ill.”

“Oh,” Joan whispered. “Wh-what do I do?”

“I’ll give your wings a nice brushing,” Howard said. “Then, if you’re up to it, maybe you can take a shower to try and wash any old scales off. The hot water may help.”

Joan nodded. “Thank you, Katherine…”

Howard smiled warmly. “No problem, sweetheart.”

But there was a problem. Two hours later when Howard was cooking dinner for herself and Joan, since they had both missed the plans with the others, and Howard heard heavy thumping coming from her shared bedroom with Anne. When she ran in there, she found that the window was wide open and Joan was nowhere to be seen.

Howard flew after the girl immediately, beating her wings through the rain and swooping low over the ground until she finally found her.

Joan was over a pigeon she had apparently killed, the smell of its blood and flesh and guts a putrid perfume. What exactly did Joan think she was doing? Her jaws ripped at the feathers covering the body, its insides exposed to the cooling rain that continued to drench their bodies.

“Do you know what you’re doing? Don’t you dare!” Howard yelled, running up to her.

Joan turned and, lowered on her legs, growled insanely at her figure. She spread her wings like an owl did when it was angry, ruffling her feathers, and Howard halted mid-step, backing away a few paces. The girl had become deranged or something. Her eyes said that alone--glazed and wide and blown way out of focus.

Then, Howard realized, this all may have been caused by Joan’s conflicting instincts as well. Being a hybrid didn’t just make molting difficult, it made the emotions that came with molting difficult, too.

“Stop that right now! You’re not like this! This isn’t you!”

Joan ignored her presence and dug her mouth back into the flesh. She tore at all her shard dragon teeth and bat fangs could reach, feasting upon the dead bird with a passion that scared Howard. How would she ever….

“Joan, do you understand what you’re doing? You have to stop right now. If you don’t, you’ll just be a monster, just like the one people saw your kind is.”

Howard didn’t mean for her words to come out like shards of glass, but maybe the harshness of her tone would make Joan realize what exactly she was scarfing down and bring back her regular avian mind.

It didn’t.

No, instead, Joan snarled like a wild dog with rabies. She flexed her claws in the dirt before rising up to her feet. She may have been scrawny and shorter than Howard, but with her feathers all puffed up and her mouth covered in blood, she was quite intimidating. Even in the dull, grey lighting of the rainstorm, her eyes still glinted with the ferocity and hunger of a feral beast.

For a long moment Howard wondered who she was even looking at anymore. Was that Joan? Or was it the mutated beast? Had she lost herself to the creature within? It seemed that way, with her claws primed for blood and her jaws dripping with gore.

And yet? She held out her hand. She held back a flinch as blood dripped to her fingers and palm, held tight Joan tight to her body even when she thought she would be eviscerated for it. She held Joan’s face, held her breath, and held tight to all the courage she could muster.

The mutant she was clinging onto let out a long, inhuman snarl that vibrated Howard’s rib cage as she was pressed against the thing. Hooked, barbed black claws raised up and hovered mere inches away from her back. She felt blood and drool and maybe some foam drip onto her head and run in gooey trails down the back of her neck.

Her neck.

Fear poured through Howard when she realized how easy it would be for her to meet the same fate from her first life, but she did not let go.

The deadly talons flexed, just barely tore the fabric of her shirt, and then fell down limply to the mutant’s side.

Joan, and Howard was sure now that it was still Joan, pressed her head to Howard’s chest, horns bumping into her collarbone, flicking her ears back and then drooping them in a deeply anguished gesture. Her wings fold in tightly to her back and her feathers resettle.

Howard gently stroked one of her quivering hands over the top of Joan’s head. She murmured to her softly and it doesn’t matter how softly she spoke because she knows Joan will always hear her.

For a long time, avian and mutated stayed tangled in an embrace.

“Are you all right?” Howard finally asked. The rain is beginning to lessen its brutality as it lashed against their bodies.

Joan did not respond. Instead, her face became rather pale, which was impressive given that she was already ghost white. More concerned than curious, Howard raised a hand as if to draw her attention up to her eye level. However, in that moment, Joan buckled to the opposite side, a line of vomit splattering from her lips. She sank to her knees, clutching her stomach. As she rocked herself, Howard placed a hand against her forehead.

“I’m not feeling that great,” Joan gurgled through cringing lips.

“Oh, sweetie. You’re not kidding.” Howard said, “Must have been...”

She stopped because Joan retched again, so she most likely didn’t want to be reminded of what exactly she had done in her feral instinct state. It didn’t help that her mouth and hands were still wet with blood, gore, and goop from marred pigeon. Joan vomited once more.

“I’m just gonna...sit here for a moment.” She panted.

“That’s alright.” Howard assured her, rubbing her back and quickly pulling her messy hair out of the way. “It’s okay, honey, it’s okay. Just get it out.”

She was trying. She was trying really hard but it came to a point where her body felt like it didn’t need to throw up anymore and was ready to start feeling normal again. But she wasn’t ready. She became so desperate to purge the bird flesh from her stomach that she shoved her claws down her throat just to make herself vomit again.

“Joan!”

Howard grabbed both of her wrists. Joan was crying, struggling to breathe over an oncoming panic attack that’s taking over her mind, just like the instincts had.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay. It’s over now. Nobody is going to hurt you, I promise.”

Joan whimpered and shook her head as tears spilled over.

“Other people aren’t going to be the ones doing the hurting.”

Howard stared at her in disbelief as she sobbed below her.

“It’s like I was hallucinating,” Joan started softly, “I couldn’t control myself anymore. I smelled meat and thought I saw something, so I went after it. Howard, I was hunting it.”

Joan put her head in her hands and shook it miserably. Her ears drooped and she wrapped her wings around herself to hide her body.

“Oh god, Katherine, I’m a monster. Just like everyone says!”

“Don’t say that.” Howard said firmly, “You are not a monster.”

“I chased the people I thought I saw,” Joan whispered hoarsely, “I chased them to the ends of this city and they ran from me. They were scared of me.”

“You won’t be like that.” Howard assured her. “It’s alright. I promise. It was just your instincts, sweetie. It’s happened to Bessie before.”

“No,” Joan croaked, shaking her head. “No, no it’s…s’not alright, is it? For you to be--”

“Joan, honey,” Howard interrupted softly with a sigh.

Howard cupped Joan’s cheeks and the poor thing flinched, like she thought her neck was going to be snapped. Instead, Howard lifted her chin until the girl made eye contact with her.

“Whatever you’re going to say, save it.” She said. “There’s no use, because you’re not going to get rid of me.”

“But--”

“But nothing.” Howard stopped her. “If you think this is going to be the defining factor that ends our friendship, then you must be crazy.”

Joan blinked up at her, eyes sparkling. “I-I…” Her words caught in her throat for a moment. “I’m your friend?”

Howard’s heart simultaneously broke and melted. “Of course, sweetheart!” She said, sliding a hand back to scratch behind one of Joan’s ears. Joan cooed happily and leaned into her touch. “Of course we’re friends!”

“I’m--I’m happy that we are,” Joan said shyly.

The little hybrid curled against Howard, nuzzling into her like she was her mother bird. Howard smiled down at her, wrapping her up in her fluffy wings.

“We’ll get through this, Joan. I promise.”

“I’m just-- I’m so glad you’re okay,” Joan whispered. “I don’t know what I’d do if I--”

“It’s not going to happen,” Howard answered definitely. “I’m okay and you’re going to be okay too, darling. You’ll see.”

Maybe, just maybe, one day Joan would be able to see herself the same way Howard saw her. But for now, with the help of Aragon, who would surely want to pitch in once she was told about the incident, the best thing that could be done with Joan was to raise her right and teach her about her mutated body, since nobody else seemed to ever care enough to do so. Starting with molting.

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