#bird in a fishbowl

[indiestsnake]

Listening to Waterfall by Fish in a Birdcage makes me feel like I am the guitar being strummed and that could not be more of a compliment

my heart is the strings of a bass and somebody is going HAM on said strings

[onemillionfish]

adventure time scary lost episode. finn rocks gunthers shit and elsewhere ice king gets turned into a horse but nobody else notices

[thehordemultimuse]

|| Starter For @reflections-of-mobius ||

A beautiful beach, with a great expanse of almost white sand, bordered by a crystalline blue sea. The only thing marring the beauty of this beach? An almost completely mangled metallic hand, standing in Cinn's path. "Hey!" A voice calls and a blue hedgehog is suddenly next to Cinn, so quickly one might think he teleported. He grins a fanged smile and motions to the arm in Cinn's path. "Mind giving me a hand?" Cinn might notice a missing right arm, with a jagged bite mark on it, where the metal arm just might fit.

[shock2u]

Birds, plants & fishes <3

Ig: koimagazine

[void-tiger]

…I still want a Water Tribble. And am very very sad that the people selling the delightful aquatic moss balls didn’t properly decontaminate them of invasive species like zebra mussel eggs…so now they’re banned.

[wes-laye]

Thank you to everyone who has recently given this post so much love! It was a lovely surprise hehe

Mondstadt fishbowl with merman Diluc and Birb Venti

[setaripendragon]

So I'm still on this daemon AU kick, and I can't stop thinking.

What are the limits?

It's generally accepted that a daemon is an animal representation of the soul, right? So, you know, we've got birds and mammals and reptiles and insects.

But what about fish?

Obviously there's an issue here of, you know, environment, and if your soul literally can't survive in the air while you literally can't survive in the water, there's a problem.

But, hey, if it's small enough, you could have a little fishbowl for your daemon to live in. Hamster ball, but filled with water, rolling along at your heels. Fishtank on wheels that get tricked out like dudebros soup up their car. And maybe, if you're from a particularly sea-faring culture/lifestyle a water-bound mammal like a dolphin or an orca could make sense. And then there's things like sharks, which have so much symbolism attached to them that it seems a real shame to have to rule them out. (Someone who's particularly driven or ambitious having a daemon that would literally die if it stopped moving is a bit of symbolism I'm going a bit feral for, tbh.)

I think we have to rule out the deep sea creatures, unfortunately. Fishbowls and/or living on a boat wouldn't really solve the problem of pressure, and someone with a blobfish daemon would, uh... be in trouble.

And if we're talking about things that can't survive in the same atmosphere as humans, what about internal parasites? Like flatworms. I think it's safe to say that having your daemon parasitizing your intestine kind of defeats the purpose of having an external manifestation of your soul, but... There are species of flatworm that aren't parasites, so... do we just rule out all flatworms, or are the non-parasitic ones okay?

And speaking of flatworms, what about size? I've read some fun stories that deal with the issues that might come from having, say, an elephant daemon. It's not quite as dramatic as the issues of having an aquatic daemon, but actually, similar adjustments would have to be made to your living situation to cope. But, of course, it could be done and I don't think anyone's trying to rule out animals on account of how big they are, but I think it's safe to say that microscopic daemons are out for the same reason that internal parasites have to be.

There's a nice solid rule I can settle on; a daemon has to be a visible animal.

And, in point of fact, I think it's safe to say it has to be an animal. We can rule out trees and plants and even fungi.

So what about coral?

It's an animal, and if we are allowing for some aquatic daemons, then should coral be an option? Or are its vibes too plant-like to qualify? Do we rule out sessile animals like we ruled out microscopic ones? As much as I find the idea of a coral daemon absolutely hilarious, I am going to come down on the side of animals that are too much like plants are a no.

So a daemon has to be a visible, mobile animal.

But what about the ones that only move very slowly? I don't think we're ruling out sloths, but in the continuing vein of torturing myself considering various aquatic daemons, there's starfish and sea urchins and hell, even most bivalves can move at least a little, right? (Correct me if I'm wrong, I haven't done that research yet.) And there's a lot of fun symbolsim to be had, there, I think.

And what about extinct creatures?

I think it's safe to say that mythical creatures are a no-go, unless this is a 'verse where those animals are real, (oh, boy wouldn't that confuse people in a world like HP where most people think dragons and unicorns aren't real, but people still wander around with dragon and unicorn daemons) so we can ammend our rule to visible, mobile, real animals, but could we go so far as extant?

If yes, that would have interesting world-building implications. Where's the cut-off point? Can we rule out dinosaurs because we don't/didn't have enough information for a daemon to settle into a form that wouldn't be technically mythical? But then, what about animals that go extinct within human history? What about all the people who had mammoth daemons or dodo daemons as those animals were dying out.

Would conservationists study daemon statistics to see if an animal has really gone extinct? Would an animal's extinct status get over-turned when a kid's daemon settled into that form? Honestly, I like this enough that I've convinced myself that, at least barring some very unique circumstances, extinct animals are not allowed.

So, it has to be a visible, mobile, extant animal. That can exist in proximity to humans.

Oh, and should probably add; visible, mobile, extant, and non-sapient.

You can't have a human daemon, or an elf or a dwarf or a fairy daemon even if they exist in that world, and if this is a 'verse with dragons who're more than just exotic magical animals, you can't have a dragon daemon. (Obviously, if your fairies are more like magical bugs than tiny people, then fairies would be a valid daemon.)

...I'm still on the fence about whether a daemon should have to be air-breathing or not. That kind of rule would still leave marine mammals available for the fun world-building of how people adapt to that kind of handicap. (...Do you think people with aquatic daemons would be considered disabled? Oooh, what about people with really big daemons? I mean, presuming such a thing is comparatively rare, people probably wouldn't be building schools with a mind to allowing elephants or giraffes to wander the corridors.)

Disclaimer! This is for my own creative process, and not intended to limit anyone else's creative flair. And, honestly, I'd love to hear other people's takes on what does and doesn't qualify for a daemon.

[wheels-of-despair]

Gonna Need A Bigger Bathtub Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: Evil Woman, Eddie, and the rest of the Hellfire nerds have been sentenced to helping out at the school carnival. There will be casualties. (EW kinda hijacked this fic, but it's still a wild night for all!) Contains: Everyone's own personal hell, violations of child labor laws, carnival games, heroic rescues, new pets, a happy ending... for most. Words: 2.8k

"This is such bullshit," Eddie growls, slamming the front door of his van.

"It's one day," you remind him as you slide out of the passenger's seat. "Half a day, really. It's the price of a diploma."

You meet at the back doors, where the rest of Hellfire is piling out into the sweltering parking lot of Hawkins High. On a damn Saturday.

"Eddie?" He turns to you, misery on his face. It's still decorated with traces of fading yellow bruises from the rumble with the jocks. So is everyone else's. "I tell you this with all the love in my heart, but: Suck it up, buttercup."

"Easy for you to say," he sighs, stripping himself of his battle vest and emptying his pockets into an old coffee can. "You're not in the dunking booth."

He slams the back door, locks it, and looks at his keys with hesitation. "I'll hold 'em," you offer. You pocket Eddie's keys, and he throws an arm across your shoulders as you walk toward the field behind the high school where the carnival is being held. The rest of the boys reluctantly follow along behind you.

Your official assignments were distributed last night, after you helped set this shit-show up. Now you're here, at the damn Hawkins High Carnival Fun-Raiser, ready to raise money (and fun!) for the stupid school you're leaving behind in just a few weeks. Eddie's graduating, you remind yourself. This is a small price to pay for that diploma he's been working so hard for.

"Where have you been?" Miss Click screeches when she spots you, waving her clipboard in frustration. "It's almost time to open! Go get set up! Now!"

You answer with mumbles and half-assed salutes as you pass. Today is going to majorly suck.

"This is me," you sigh mournfully, stopping at your assigned booth. The rest of the boys keep trudging toward their own personal hells, but Eddie stays with you to say goodbye. "Close your eyes, hold your nose, think of Ozzy."

"Who told you the secret to giving great ora—" You cut him off with a shove in the direction of the dunking booth, and he turns around and walks backward to grin at you. And then he stumbles, catching himself just in time to avoid a fall. You cover your mouth to hide a laugh, and he flips you the bird before he turns around.

You have been awarded the honor of running the fish bowl game. It's a table full of fish bowls that people try to throw ping pong balls into. If they win, they get a live fish in a plastic bag. You're hoping for a quiet night, banking on the fact that most people probably don't come to the carnival for a new pet.

You're in a good location; you can see most of the boys from your booth. Jeff is in charge of the balloon game across the way, where people throw darts at balloons and pop them for prizes. Grant's manning the Lucky Duck Pond nearby, where toddlers will pick up a duck and feel like a little winner every time. Gareth is glowering at his popcorn cart a little to your left. And when you stand in the corner and lean out a little, you can see Eddie eyeing the dunking booth warily.

Assorted jocks are set up with easy-to-assemble sports games. Uniformed cheerleaders sell raffle tickets. You have Patrick McKinney with some kind of basketball game to your right, and Chrissy Cunningham in the Kissing Booth to your left. That seems sanitary.

"How are we doing over here?" Overlord Click asks.

"Ready and waiting," you deadpan.

"Why haven't you put the fish in yet?"

"What?" you ask.

"You're supposed put the fish in the fishbowls, silly."

You look from the massive bucket of goldfish in plastic bags to the fishbowls.

"You want people to throw balls at the fish?"

"Why do you think it's called the fish bowl game?" she asks.

"Because you toss a ball into a bowl and win a fish?"

"Put the fish in the bowls," she orders.

"And if I don't?"

"Then perhaps Principal Higgins will have second thoughts about letting you and your little friends off so easy," she says through pursed lips. "Now put the fish in the bowls, or I will put someone who can follow simple instructions in charge of this booth."

You'd like to put her in a fish bowl and let kids throw balls at her. Maybe let someone dunk their balls in her bowl, too. But the thought of Hellfire having suffered a week of detention for nothing gets to you. You reach for a fish bag, untie it, and carefully dump the poor little guy into a bowl.

"Every two or three bowls will do," she says. "We don't want to run out of prizes."

She walks away, and you want to chuck a fucking fish bowl at her.

You stare at the bucket of bagged fish and settle for staggering three of them across the front row of bowls so they're visible to people walking by. You apologize to the little guys as you pour them in.

You're surprised by how many people are willing to haul a goldfish around the carnival all day. But they get their dumb balls in and take their bagged fish and carry on. You take money and distribute fish until dusk, when your relief shows up to grant you fifteen minutes to eat and use the bathroom. How generous.

Since you have no appetite, you decide to check on the boys.

"Hey," you grin at Grant, yawning with boredom by his little duck pond. "Gettin' lucky yet?"

"Kill me," he mouths as a new herd of toddlers approaches. You back away from them with a horrified expression, and he laughs as he takes their mom's money.

"How's it going?" you ask Jeff, leaning against the plywood outside of his balloon-filled booth.

"Oh, just great," he rolls his eyes. "Love watching these degenerates throw darts in my direction. If I get hit, I will sue."

"As you should," you affirm.

"I'd rather be here than in the dunking booth, though," he says. "Poor Eddie, man."

You turn and look in Eddie's direction. He looks like a drowned rat.

Because the person trading money for balls is Jason Carver.

"Oh, no," you groan. "See ya," you say quickly. Jeff waves, then presses himself against the plywood wall as another wave of darts are launched toward the balloons.

There's a long line of jocks waiting for a shot to dunk the freak. It looks like he's barely catching his breath between drops, and exerting all his energy into crawling back on the stool.

"Look here, boys," Jason Carver says loudly when he spots you. "Does the little freak girl wanna play?"

"Maybe she does," you respond. "But her break's almost over, so she won't have time unless these gentlemen want to let a lady cut in line."

Jason gives his flunkies a look, and they part for you like a sea of dickheads. Eddie's breathing heavily on his little stool above the tank and still trying to brush his wet hair out of his face from the last dunk.

"Three tries for $3, miss," Jason says sweetly. Eddie's spotted you, and is shaking his head, but you hand over your cash. Jason gives you three balls.

You throw them quickly, before the pricks can figure out what you're doing. You launch them high and far, way over the target and into the woods. You almost wish the gym teacher could've seen it.

"You bitch," Jason seethes.

"And yet, you're the one who has to fetch," you smile, walking around him to the tank. You reach in and hand Eddie a hair tie. "It's almost over," you remind him. Eddie's in the process of tying his hair back when he's sent into the water again. You both yelp in surprise; Eddie at being dropped again without warning, and you from getting drenched by the splash. You turn to see Carver leaning against the target with a smirk on his face. He set it off manually.

"Thanks for that," you smile sarcastically. "It's really hot out here. I don't envy the person who has to suck Higgins' sweaty balls tonight. Maybe you should suggest he take a dip in the tank before the carnival closes."

You leave before he can work out what you've said, checking your watch to see that you need to get back to your fishy booth.

More fish have been put into open containers. Damn you, temp!

Business carries on as usual, until you notice that two elementary-aged kids are standing off to the side and watching you.

"Can I help you?" you finally ask, sick of being stared at like… a goldfish in a bowl.

"My fish died," Brace-Face pouts. His pal Glasses looks on nervously.

"What'd you do to it?"

"I didn't do anything to it!" he argues with a stamp of his little foot. "You gave me a bad one!"

"No refunds or exchanges." Is this an official policy? Probably not. Are you going to indulge this brat? Definitely not.

"Told you you shouldn't have taken it in the bounce house," Glasses mutters. Your eyes narrow.

"You took a live fish into the bounce house?" you ask.

Brace-Face freezes.

"Give it," you command, holding out your hand for the dead fish. He drops the bag into your hand. The poor little fishy is indeed dead; floating upside down in a plastic prison filled with too-warm water. You turn your gaze from the fish to the kids. "Scram."

They do.

"What was that about?" Miss Click asks, appearing out of nowhere.

"His fish died and he didn't want it anymore," you shrug.

"Did you give him a new one?"

"No."

"Good," she sighs. "We can return the live ones and get a refund when the carnival is over."

"The live ones?" you ask.

"There are bound to be casualties," she shrugs. "Anyway, I'm here for a cash pickup."

You take a fistful of bills out of your apron and hand them to her, concocting a plan as she counts the money and writes on her clipboard.

When she leaves, you dart over to Gareth.

"Give me some popcorn bags."

"Why?"

You huff in annoyance. He puts on his customer service voice.

"Small, medium, or large, ma'am?"

"Large."

He hands you a stack.

"Come see me when you get a break," you instruct, tucking them under your arm and returning to your booth.

Fun fact: You can fit four fish bags into one large popcorn bag.

The first batch of refugees (and Eddie's keys) are smuggled away by Jeff after a whispered explanation. He walks away with a grin and a popcorn bag held to his chest, looking like everyone else walking around the carnival with a snack.

Grant and Gareth's breaks come next, and eight more fish are rescued. They seem pleased to be sticking it to The Man and saving lives. Eddie is the last person to get a break, only an hour before the carnival is scheduled to close. This event is violating so many labor laws.

"This is the worst day of my life," he groans, stepping over the side of your booth and collapsing in the grass beside you. He's still dripping from his last dunk.

"Then I really hate to ask, but…" you bite your lip. "I need a favor."

Your sweet Eddie, soggy and wet and miserable, is the hero of the day. He transports twelve fish to the safety of the van. After his last run, he comes back with flushed cheeks and a twinkle in his eye.

"What about these little guys?" he asks, pointing to the fish in the bowls.

"I think their fates have been decided by a crueler god," you sigh.

"Munson! Your break is over! Stop loitering and get back to your booth!" the aforementioned crueler god barks, chasing him off with a threatening wave of her clipboard.

That's alright. Less than an hour to go, twenty-four fish saved, and a diploma with Eddie Munson's name on it being printed very soon. It's worth it.

When the time comes to pack up, Miss Click comes to collect the rest of your cash.

"How much do you get for taking the fish back?"

"How many are left?" she asks, eyes darting from her fistful of cash to the bucket that the boys of Corroded Coffin helped you empty.

"Just the ones in the bowls," you answer.

She performs a quick fish count and cringes. There are ten left.

"I don't even think it's worth trying to take those back," she sighs.

"Can I have them?" you ask. She eyes you suspiciously. "I've grown attached to the little fellas," you shrug, looking to the ground shyly.

"Fine," she laughs. "It's barely a dollar's worth of fish, and saves me an hour. You did a good job, moving so many! I bet there's a lot of happy kids out there, and a lot of dough in here!" She waves the leather zipper pouch containing the funds.

You smile, grateful that she didn't notice how few people were actually walking around with fish.

"We have to return the bowls though, so you'll have to put them in bags when you take them."

"That's alright," you grin. "I can handle bags."

You bag your remaining fish and present them to the boys with a grin when the post-carnival clean-up is complete.

"Look, guys! I get to bring a few fishies home!"

Your joy is met with eye-rolls and groans.

"What the hell are you gonna do with all those?" Eddie asks once you're safely in the fish-filled van.

"Eat them?" Gareth suggests.

"I bet if I put them into the tub with you, they'd eventually nibble you to death," you threaten.

"Nah, don't do that," Jeff says. "His funk will kill the poor little fishies." Gareth smacks him, and a playful slap fight breaks out in the back of the van.

You're all laughing as you pull out of the parking lot… but your smile soon fades. What are you going to do with all of these fish?

"Anybody want to take a fish or two home?" you ask hopefully.

"Nope," the boys in the back say in unison.

"Eddie?"

He puts his hand up, blocking his face from your view so you can't work your puppy-eyed magic. You roll your eyes.

"I'm gonna need a bigger bathtub," you sigh.

Thirty minutes later, after Jeff and Grant are dropped off, Eddie pulls into your driveway.

"How are you going to break it to Mom that you brought home a hundred fish?" Gareth grins.

"I had accomplices," you remind him. "And there are only… thirty-four?!"

Two Days Later

"Okay, babies, are we ready?" you ask, smiling down into one of two buckets full of goldfish.

Much to your surprise, your mother did not murder you for bringing home 34 mostly stolen goldfish. She found the situation hilarious, and declared that she'd always wanted a backyard fish pond anyway.

Your babies were freed from their bags and put into buckets for the night. The next morning, there was a group expedition to the home improvement store.

It took all weekend to get the hole dug and the liner laid and the filters installed, but you all had so much fun doing it.

(Except maybe Gareth, who hissed "I'll get you for this" every time he stopped to wipe the sweat from his brow.)

There's still work to be done with the overall landscaping, but flowers are your mother's department, so those can wait. Now, it's time to introduce your fishies to their new home.

You look to Eddie, standing on the other side of the little pond with a fish-filled bucket of his own.

"Release the fishes!" your mom calls, camera at the ready.

You both start to pour, slowly, and watch the little gold creatures plop into the pond and start swimming. When the buckets are empty, you set them aside and meet in the middle, kneeling beside the pond to peer down into it.

"They look so happy," you whisper.

"Well, yeah," Gareth grunts, dropping to his knees beside you. "They have a memory span of like three seconds."

"So do you," you and Eddie say together, looking away from your fish long enough to smirk at each other.

"That's good, though," Eddie says quietly, wrapping an arm around you. "Because they don't remember the carnival. They've already forgotten all the bad stuff. This is their life now."

"And it's gonna be a good one," you smile, leaning into him.

"How do we forget that fucking carnival?" Gareth mumbles.

Eddie glances back to see how far away your mom is. She's staring at a butterfly on one of her flowers through the camera's viewfinder.

"The good shit's in the van," he whispers. "Our memory loss comes later."

[undertale-npcs]

Made a nice lil image for the header of this blog :3

Spider Donut guy is freaking out about how affordable the drinks are here.

Fishbowl Echo Flower guy is at the front door ready to tell people about where all the activities are (cards and food).

Hotdog Harpy is like those sign spinner guys, shes advertising the food. Buy it!

Ragel, Diamond Kid, Normal Snail, and the Newspaper Editor are plotting a ttrpg game, the newspaper editor woman is good at writing so she is hosting, and the other three cant really go places on account of being Stuck in the ground, Slow, and A child, so this seemed like a fun activity they could all be a part of.

The monsters at the big table are playing cards, except Fox Head he's just trying to figure out the rules. Rabbit Kid is watching from afar and being judgmental over the moves they make. Punk Hamster is just chilling, who ended up appreciating the new faces at Grillby's.

Dress Lion is too anxious to talk to anybody yet, but theyre happy being able to go out in their dress.

Ficus Licker tried to leave through the fire exit but couldn't (hes not fire) so he's just been pretending to be a door inspector the whole time to avoid embarrassment.

Ice Wolf likes drinks.

Rock Wants A Drink.

Elder Puzzler is blocking the jukebox so that people only play music he approves of (none of it).

Business Dragon, Faun, and Hand Receptionist used to be friends back in high school and are all catching up.

Skateboard Girl is flirting with Fuku Fuku Fire.

Ugly Fish and Red Bird are just drinking and sitting silently together because they havent developed any personalities outside of "Being single" and "Speaking for Grillby". Theyre friends though so thats nice.

Drunk Bun and Red Demon are scoping out all the hot guys.

Fish Receptionist is the bartender today.

Charles and Loren are infodumping about their hyperfixations (work and stars, respectively)

And everyone else is just chilling.

[dnangelic]

fairness : now wasn't that a funny idea ? he says nothing at first because there's nothing to be said ; no reason to share his opinion with someone who likely wouldn't understand and who hadn't even bothered to ask for it in the first place . someone like sakura shouldn't have let any words sway her in her decisions regardless , and the sound of her answer , rather than surprising him in the slightest , seems to instead satisfy .

maybe it's unexpected too , out of someone like him , ( if not who he merely seemed to be ) --- to simply remain silent and smile at the idea of a delinquent's justice . the lives of a kaitō and banchō were as different as shogi to samurai --- even so , that bloody-knuckled honor held its own faint , far-away allure to someone already used to a fugitive existence .

wretched and clever , he'd stay in the clouds . performing all sorts of impossible tricks for his pursuers , undoing their carefully tied knots and leaping out and over every trap meant to snap and snatch him right up , fairness be damned . sakura could remain down to earth and ever-straightforward , meanwhile , throwing herself into one violent exchange of fists after another ...

... and then , just like this , they'd find moments outside of the dramatic tides of their lives to talk and , if only miraculously , exquisitely , touch .

( "not normal" doesn't matter . ) --- and to whom , only to sakura ?

there were those who would have shuddered with dread at the chill of his hands and the eerie needle-point of his eyes , thinking him beautiful from a distance then hideous and bizarre up close . sakura mingles with just one tell and barrier , the invisible gate and high walls that separated him far from the rest --- of humanity , of the very idea of others .

' ... whether i'm okay with it or not doesn't matter . when it comes to my temperature , it can't be helped . '

nor could the black and empty feeling sinking into his heart , feeling to hollow it out and turn it into a cavity . when you wanted another , a warm , human hand to cradle and caress yours , could you do it alone ? ( ... of course he wasn't okay with it . of course something like "common sense" couldn't apply to him , or the sort of affliction he both caused and carried ; memories of himself giving up the body to let his other self lean forwards , and gingerly , hungrily , wrap winter-frigid arms about themselves in a pathetic curl alone . )

sakura's only asking , and so he further deliberates any more answer . he only stares as he listens , far from any sort of ferocious sentiment , as if the more sakura sought to thaw his hand , the more the rest of him turned utterly numb . when he finally speaks , the syllables are slow and deliberate , cautious with mute guard : a long line cast out and quietly fishing .

' ... and if you're lonely ? '

what could anyone do when their happiness was left at the mercy of the other's ? there were some things not even azumano's immortal legend could steal and rob , no matter how many centuries were to pass . genuine affections , gentle touches , the greatest treasure to his empty heart-hall ; a want that met his relentless , unsatisfied want .

an impossible wish . so he's always been told , so he's fruitlessly tried to resist . and yet here , there's no flirtation ; no tease , no wry prod . like the crackle of thunder and lighting , sakura finally flings / freezes / flusters ----

' --- it's fine . ' it doesn't hurt at all . or rather , it doesn't hurt as much as it should .

one arm slips into a deep pocket while the other , its awful talons included , raises to the top of sakura's head . and there does it roughly pat and ruffle , once , twice , before he severs its touch and allows it to retreat too into its own pocket slip . ' calm down . ' it's the sort of tone he's used at least a hundred times on his tamer alone : strict but careless , firm but gentle , a readily invested detachment . ' ... relax , and don't fret over unnecessary things . '

“You know full damn well it wouldn’t’ve just been a little bit!”

Again, she ain’t stupid! She knows some of his tricks by now, knows that he wouldn’t’ve just been satisfied with messing with’er ‘just a little bit’. If he’s really up in arms about it, though, he’s got plenty of opportunity to do somethin’ now.

(Somehow, she thinks he won’t; not as a joke, a trick, at least.)

“And it isn’t about bein’ clever.” She huffs out, adding on with something close to a pout. “I just don’t like when shit ain’t fair.”

Maybe it’s unexpected, outta someone like her, but she’s always been like this; like that time durin’ the fights with Shishitoren, when she was criticizing the way Suo was fightin’, a little. Of course, not everything would be fair in life—it isn’t that way, and sometimes, there’s just someone who is inherently stronger, or better, or just outmatches you—but in silly little times like this? In inconsequential things like this? It bothers the absolutely daylights outta her.

Still, though, she’d gone through with it all to begin with, so...what’s that say about her? Does it, even? She’s got no clue.

“Mm.”

Non-committal. She’s still inspecting him, her fingers just gently squeezing around him to try and make his hand warm. “...‘not normal’ doesn’t matter.” She decides. “Are you okay with it?”

Surprised, though, she absolutely is; as she was just thinking, she’s only recently found out others are naturally warm. But if the inverse of that’s true, then that’s okay; she won’t fault what just is, no matter who it’s attached to. As long as it isn’t being used to hurt anyone; in this case, especially not Dark’s own self.

“If you’re cold, get under a blanket. If you’re hot, take it off. Ain’t that common sense?”

(It’s spoken as if everything is so simple. But, in a life where so few things have been, is there any real difference? Does she have to learn if there is one?)

Another huff, though, is her next response. “And who’s worried about you?” She clicks her teeth, the exhale leaving her; whether she’s convincing, at this point, is entirely up to not her. “Normal or not, weird or not, I’m just askin’ if it’s okay to you.”

Because, if it isn’t, then maybe something can be done. What, she doesn’t know, but maybe it’s possible. But, ah, that prickle’s shootin’ up her back, and her muscles go tense; her fingers are already prepping to let him go, to drop his hand—

—but then his talons are out and elongating, their tips just pressing into her own wrist from where they reach. It’s... Shocking, yeah, because she’s never seen them before; didn’t even know he had them. They make her blink, an eyebrow furrowing to its miscoloured other before it goes up; well, he’s the one agreed he wasn’t normal, this time.

But it’s also enough; more than anything, she suddenly wants to touch them—she’s already got his hand, so it makes sense, right?—and it makes her think, I can hold out, two more seconds, I wanna hold out—and it seems to override everything for just a little bit longer. With her left hand, she reaches around and brings two fingers up to grab at the claw of his pointer finger.

Not exactly a squeeze, not exactly a pinch. Just—holding, maybe.

(What a weird night, full of so many surprises. But his testing of her has turned into one for herself.)

“Would’a figured you to like the fingerless ones.” She’s always thought they were cool-looking herself, just never had the desire to wear any; she hates having anything on her own hands. “Though, I guess for warmth, it ain’t the best option.”

That’s as far as she can get, though; without wanting to, without meaning to, because the bad little things in her head weren’t quite as overcome from the start, his hand is dropped (practically thrown back at him with the force) from her own hands. She about scrambles—Shit, no, I didn’t—to grab it back, but the moment she realizes she’s doing it, she just freezes, her cheeks alighting with embarrassed with terrified warmth.

Shit!

“I, I didn’t mean—”

[indiestsnake]

here’s a personal ranking of every single fish in a birdcage song currently released, worst to best. cuz why not.

#39: Roots. Not my style, not what I rlly listen to fish for, and paced a bit too oddly for my taste.

#38: Otherside. Again, I don’t rlly come to fish for more electronic sounds, unless it’s in tandem with more acoustic stuff. Also, it’s repetitive.

#37: Movies. This is where the ranking gets infinitely harder, because I literally like every single fish in a birdcage song. Even the last two. Movies is just a bit too lyrically simple and unevocative. Doesn’t make me feel, just a nice tune.

#36: Lion. Again, nice tune, bit to simple with the lyrics. Or rather the lyrics just… don’t conjure much for me.

#35: If Trees Could Talk. Nice wrap up to the album, and an enjoyable tune with good lyrics. Just not personally my taste, a bit too slow n simple.

#34: Gideon. Kind of a fusion of Still and Drunk on Pride if memory serves, but that’s the thing. Memory doesn’t serve. It’s a lil forgettable, especially since so many songs in the album are rather similar.

#33: Man O’ War. Do I need to explain? It’s Man O’ War. Pirate shanty incarnate. Great, but doesn’t really make me feel. but like. MANN OH WAR, OOH-III-OH! FERRY US ALONG, WITH FREIGHTS OF GOLD!!!

#32: Sand. Wonderful. Calm, melancholic, bittersweet. The only reason it’s here is cuz you have to be in the right place to like it. Too slow n sad to listen in an average playlist, too melancholy to be comforting at times. Still good.

#31: Still. I really like still. But still is also, as they say, weird as shit. Gives me a very specific image all the way through, just a bit odd to listen to. Do not put this in your sleep playlist, you will enter another reality.

#30: Calamity. Ohh, calamity. Boss battle music!! And great for it. Bit generic tho. *lightning strike sound effect*

#29: Two sides. Finally out of the Man O’ War barrage lol. I like it! It’s simple, enjoyable. That’s… about it. Not insubstantial, just exactly what it says on the tin. Two sides.

#28: Blessed by a Curse. Fan-fuckin-tastic chorus, but i wish they’d let the instruments speak for themselves more. The “woawoawowoho…” messes with it for me. But that piano hit!! And the STRINGS!!!

#27: Poet. Poet’s damn good! For like. A minute and a half. lol. The parts with the vocals are great, the end is wonderful, but it’s mostly made of instrumental that isn’t as good as the rest.

#26: Brothers. Guys. What if we took Drunk on Pride and Man O’ War and merged them?!? Wouldn’t that be cool!? And it would, but… again, a bit generic. We’ve heard this before, in those songs. Tbh a lot of Man O’ War as an album feels vaguely based around Drunk on Pride and Gideon. It’s weird. I like it.

#25: Moonlight. Lovely. Makes you cry when you need to, and comforts you when you don’t. Like sand, but more applicable.

#24: Amigo. Dabudabudabudabaduadadudabadatdye, dadatdababudu, dabudabubaddudatdudaba dabudabudadubatdadatdadada! Lyrically simple, absolute vibe. Love it.

#23: Drunk on Pride. Great, fucking love the strings here. Especially that crescendo at the end of the first chorus, I ascend this mortal coil every time I hear it.

#22: Magic. The first rule! A bit boring in subject compared to those above it, but great. That violin riff is holy, and the “DA badabada DA” in the melody is great.

#21: Child of the Stars. Really cool, like if you took all the good of Otherside and mixed in some Waterfall, and a bit of poet. Motivational, and those violin riffs… ough. Love em.

#20: The secret rule, Rule #6!! Also known as- Fuck it either way. lol. For those unaware, this rule isn’t published due to some personal preferences of Dusty(the project lead/singer). Mainly cuz it has fuck in the title. There’s a few vids on YouTube of it if you wanna listen. ANYWAY. Great tune, great melody. If a bit lyrically on the nose.

#19: Like a Rock. Like a Rock is slept on. It’s a weird, experimental end to a weird, experimental album, and it shows! The pacing is a touch syncopated, tone can be odd. But man, that fucken guitar melody. And the instrumentals. And, the one part at the end. If you’ve listened, you know.

#18: Rule #34. Had to come eventually, eh? Yes, that was a juvenile joke. Anyway. The strings, the piano, all of the instrumental goes so hard. Especially after the last chorus, when the piano really comes in. And yes, the lyrics do make me vaguely uncomfortable, and that means it’s a bit detached meaning wise. But it is too good to simply leave at the bottom. And yes, all of that wording was intentional. I know what I said.

#17: My Dream, My Addiction. What a song name. I love the strings, the way it’s slow and loud and so many things. It’s hard to decipher, and I love it. It’s just a bit odd for an average playlist, but it’s here mostly on principle anyway. Just too personally interesting to leave low.

#16: Angel Tango. It’s like. The same as My Dream, My Addiction. But a bit less obtuse and weird. Only a bit tho, still kinda odd in a real good way. One spot above feels right.

#15: Lore. Lore! Recent-est song as of now. I fuckin love it, I genuinely just wish it had a bit more. The cello, the ethereal vocals, the everything. But a bit too short, feels kind of insubstantial. A few more lines per chorus would’ve gotten it quite a few places higher.

#14: Momento Mori. ASHES TO ASHES, DUST TO DUUUUST! Absolute vibe, the lyrics are my favorite kind of esoteric and odd, the guitar is great, all real good. At this point, the only thing placing songs higher is them doing what others have done, better.

#13: James Picard. Gorgeous. I love this one so much, the strings are just heavenly. Vocals are wonderful, the harmonies, and the story, ough. Love it.

#12: Throne Room. Again, the cellos and violins. This one is similar to the rest of the album, but unlike many others, it’s so damn unique. The feeling of majesty and mysticism, the lyrics, that chorus of ominous chants before those beautiful strings kick back in. The flare sound effect, ough, it’s all just great.

#11: Microphone. We’re getting into the interchangeable zone, everything below is amazing. For this it’s the starting cello, and the ending cello. Oh, and the middle cello! And the vocals. And the cello!!

#10: Four Aces. More than the sum of its parts. The chain sound effects, and the dull, venomous delivery. The shout in the middle, the story it tells so perfectly and simply. The last lines, where the vocals rise just slightly, making you prep for another shout-! And then they fall. No release, just a few strums and the sounds of shackles, chains, shovels and spades. It all fits like a puzzle.

#9: Fiddler’s Heart. Like, c’mon. It’s Fiddler’s hearts. Fiddly, jovial, simple and lovely on the ears. The story and character, the constant variety of wonderful violin in the back. Great. Perfect, and I mean PERFECT, to listen to on a summer walk.

#8: Long Way From Home. I love the electric guitar in this so much. This is everything good about Roots, Otherside, all of the more electrical stuff they’ve made, raised up and properly realized. It’s repetitive, but it works, because the variation in the instrumentals, and tone, and delivery. It just works. It is Otherside’s heroic father figure whom it looks up to. I love it.

#7: Fish in a Birdcage. The icon! All of the band’s stranger and more strings-based stuff, given the Long Way From Home treatment. Or I guess it’s the other way around. Whatever. It’s weird as shit, it sounds awful on first listen but it somehow sounds amazing after a few more. And the sound is not something you get in any other song, period. Acquired taste incarnate, and I love it for that.

#6: Arizona. The other secret rule!! For the unaware, Arizona is a song that has been recorded and made, but they haven’t decided what rule number it should be. Thus, it’s regulated to a YouTube video if you’d like to listen. And if you didn’t notice the placement, you should. It just… I don’t even know. The vocals and the guitar fit so perfectly, the melody has that quiet quiet, LOUD thing like in magic but perfected. It just works for me. Something about it.

#5: Pyre. Ohhhhh, Pyre. How I adore you. The accordion(actually it might just be two violins but whatevs) that you get nowhere else in their music. The warmth, the vocals, it’s like the motivational parts of Child of the Stars taken to its peak. The type of song that makes you believe people care about you. Fantastic, wonderful, beautiful. I adore it.

#4: Birds of a Feather. I LIED!! THIS is the best summer walk song. Jovial, happy, tells a wonderful story (that’s based off a real Irish pirate queen), has hints of pyre in its tune. And, lemme talk about the importance of preserving history like this. Ireland got fucked over by the British. A lot of culture got erased. And that two-sentence summary really doesn’t convey it. But things like this preserve a truly vast and enthralling culture that is halfway lost to time in modern day. I’m not Irish, but I am a lover of history. And knowing the culture Ireland and so many other places lost, the culture it’s still bleeding today… it makes this song mean a lot more.

#3: Through the Tides. This song is a goddamn lullaby, and that is said in the best way possible. The ethereal and misty melody at the beginning, the gentle and constant picking of an electric guitar. The beautiful high notes on a violin to accent it, the almost mystical and mythologized story told through the lyrics. It makes me care so much, feel so comforted, by a theoretical whale that I have never once heard of before. Calm and peace incarnate, makes me feel like a cloud of mist. A blade, gently gliding through the tides.

#2: Paperwork. Paperwork! PAPERWORK!!! This feels like a thesis for Fish in a Birdcage as a band. Freeing listeners from routine patterns of thought, the warm resonations of a wayward writers guitar. Also, I adore the tone and message. It criticizes industrialism, but it’s not angry, or rude, or vitriolic. At worst it’s jokingly chastising the listener. Relax, my guy! It’s a fixable problem! Kick back, don’t have a fucken heart attack over it. Just plant some trees, live your life, create things. Don’t get caught up in the paperwork. I love the meaning of the song, if you couldn’t tell. The music is great too, the relaxed, happy tune. The one-minute monologue at the start that they honestly make work really well. It’s just great. I love it.

#1: Waterfall. Are you surprised? I don’t think you are. The vocals are goddamn perfect. The melody, waxing and waning between gentle picking to rhythmic strumming. The drums always different, the beautifully timed symbol crashes that accent everything perfectly. The little “Hey!” In the background after every verse, the fucking transcendent basswork. God, the basswork. I posted about it earlier and that genuinely inspired this list. The story of two people the song tells, the genuinely perfect, and I mean perfect way of conveying the spark of love. It makes my heart flutter. Just… thinking about the scenario in context of most anything, it makes me get it. It being… love. That spark. Why do you think I refer to love as flame more often than not in my writing? And!!! It’s four and a half minutes too! This is the opposite of insubstantial!! Everything about this song is near-perfect, and I will never get tired of it. It’s mixture of meaning and restraint and simplicity and sheer just being nice on the ears is a solidification of everything I love about this band. It deserves my number one.

That’s the list! Except for Fish in an 8bitcage but somebody else technically made that and also I haven’t listened to it so shh. Feel free to comment on my opinions, tell me I’m wrong, right, whatever. You can comment your own opinions too! Or maybe you’ve never listened to a single song from this band, then you can comment about that. You get the memo. Have a nice day.

[mcyt-builds-contest]

Pearlescentmoon's Alien Landscape

Builder : Pearlescentmoon

Series : Hermitcraft Season 9

Propaganda : It's so pretty. The terraforming is gorgeous. The alien plants are stunning. She put diamond blocks and purpur into the build and it looks good. Everything about it is stunning, including the alleyway/ abandoned human civilization area.

Endlantis

Builder : Philza

Series : Philza's Hardcore Series S4

Propaganda : The end is now a fishbowl, there was an accidental dragon fight here, canonically the enderman king tried to teleport an ocean monument and failed (L), enderman ear check my beloved (listen to them scream), very pretty, bird man keeps making Big Projects that he can fish at

Taglist! @10piecechickenmcnugget @cholioSUS @biro-slay @betweenlands @xdsvoid

[thehordemultimuse]

"I always knew I'd be consumed by the sea. It ate those around me, piece by piece, one nibble at a time. It wasn't excited to eat them, this I know, but it had to eat them. It had to eat them to get to me. Like a child eating its vegetables so it can get dessert, that's what my family is to her." "She got a taste of me, once, a morsel in her mouth before I was dragged back to land. She got excited. She was eager. I can still feel her teeth, when I dream." "You'd think I'd be scared. You'd think I'd fear the sea, seeing the way she wishes to consume me. But I am so eager to be consumed and it frightens me." "Can you imagine that? Something as big and beautiful as the sea, driven to mouth wide, drooling ecstasy, over you? It's... gratifying. It's humbling." "I know one day, she'll call for me, to devour me, and I won't be able to say no. I won't be able to run anymore. Maybe she'll be a mother, an uncle, a brother, a lover. I don't know. I just know I want to be ready. I have to be ready." "Why do you think I do so much? Shouldn't I make it worth the wait? Shouldn't I at least be flavorful?"

[thehordemultimuse]

"Wait, man, I can-" Shark Bite almost volunteered to clean up the mess himself, it was his fault, come to think of it, but the darker was already storming off. He sighed , hopping from foot to foot. "Whoops."

Shark Bite took a bite of the pickle he had offered Rust, fidgeting slightly. Okay, acting as if things were normal didn't work at all. In fact, they seemed to make 'em worse. He decidedly preferred 'pretty boy' to 'ice boy', in terms of threateningly hissed nicknames. Shark Bite stayed put, as a sort of marker of the mess, eating at pickles.

He screwed on the lid halfway through the jar. Rust had seemed to enjoy the pickles, before Shark Bite sca- startled xem. He'd give it the rest; somethin' of an apology. Kinda.

It'd be awkward to race a guy who looked like they wanted to tear out your throat.

"Whoa!" Shark Bite jolted back as Rust smacked his hand away, taking an additional step back. "My bad, my bad." Shark Bite wasn't an idiot, he knew the difference between anger and... this. He wasn't gonna poke this bear. It almost sounded like... terror? No, that couldn't be right, surely the big tough secret agent wasn't scared of a little touch. Damn, was it a health condition or something? Very dandruffy-quillitis? Don't say that out loud, Shark Bite, he will attack you. "You, uh, dropped your share of the pickles," Shark Bite pointed out awkardly. Maybe if he pretended like everything was fine, it would be fine. Usually works. Usually. He held out his jar, from a safe distance. "Take a chill pickle."

[svnnyd4ys]

the seven + nico incorrect quotes lol

Piper: She's the girl of my dreams! Annabeth: You say every girl is the girl of your dreams. Piper: I have a lot of dreams.

!!!

Leo: *watching their house burn down* Leo: Leo: *starts filming* Waddup, guys, welcome to my vlog, today's topic: how to get away with accidentally committing arson because you forgot Spaghetti O's cans are metal and thus non-microwavable! Step one: deny everything.

!!!

Jason, looking at a selfie of Leo’s: I hate this photo. Leo: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly. Jason: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something. Leo: Up to kindness.

!!!

Hazel: Nico, how do you feel about lifting heavy things? Nico: My doctor just said I should avoid— Hazel: Being a wuss? I agree.

!!!

*During a game of Hangman* Piper: Nope, there’s no Q. You lose. Leo: Are you kidding me?! You can still add something! Piper: I already added a belt, four earrings and an extra arm! YOU LOSE!

!!!

Jason: Are you guys bringing anything to the party? Nico: Yeah, an empty stomach. Annabeth: My sparkling personality. Percy: A flagrant disregard for common decency. Hazel: ... Hazel: Chips.

!!!

Piper, looking at a map: It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn't it? Jason: Other side, Piper...

!!!

Percy: You know, Leo, when you generalize, you tell general... lies. Leo: ... Leo: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns.

!!!

Annabeth: What time is it? Piper: I don’t know, pass me that saxaphone and we’ll find out Piper: *BLASTS the saxaphone* Nico: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING THE SAXAPHONE AT TWO IN THE FUCKING MORNING Piper: It’s 2 in the morning.

!!!

Leo: You’re overthinking this. Hazel: You don’t know the appropriate level of thinking, Leo. What if I’m underthinking?

!!!

Frank: I am an expert at identifying birds. Percy: Okay, what about those ones flying over there? Frank: Yeah, they're all birds.

!!!

Percy: *Pulls a glass a water from out of nowhere* Jason: Where did you get that? Percy: My pocket. Jason: How do you keep a glass of water in your pocket? Percy: Skills.

!!!

Frank: If I fall down these stairs, I'm just going to lay down and accept my fate.

!!!

Frank: I’m taking a look at your numbers, and it doesn’t look good. You have a lot of measurements. Quite a few variables. Jason: Is that… bad? Frank: Variables are the #1 risk factor for outcomes. The past is a big contributor to the future. Jason: Isn’t that just causality? Frank: Causality is the leading cause of death in this country. Jason: So what are my odds? Frank: Do you have a family history? Jason: Of what? Frank: Just, in general. Jason: …Yes? Frank: Oh no.

!!!

*the Squad at Disneyland, in the teacups* Leo, Frank, and Jason: *spinning a little and talking* Nico, Annabeth, and Hazel: *flying past them, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

!!!

Percy: My dad drowned at sea when I was little so whenever someone jokes about fucking my mom I’ll pretend to be really sincere and say some shit like “Glad to see she’s moving on, my dad’s death hit her pretty hard.” Then watch them absolutely fumble trying to figure out a response to that statement. Percy: Update, she got a new partner I can no longer make the joke.

(pre discovering yk his half God-ness)

!!!

Annabeth: I’m gonna mix a can of Red Bull with seventeen shots of espresso in a fishbowl and then chug it while Kids by MGMT plays in the background so I can perceive twenty-three spatial dimensions and fight my own soul.

!!!

Nico: This is a safety pin. *cuts off end* Nico: It is now a danger pin.

!!!

Jason: Sometimes I talk to myself for no reason. Jason: Me too!

!!!

Piper, explaining why they are not allowed to cook: I put the noodles in the pot and put the pot on the stove and turned the burner on high. Turns out you don't put noodles in marijuana and I almost burnt the whole house down.

!!!

Hazel: *gets set on fire and screams in agony* Hazel: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

!!!

[wolvesroampastelgalaxies]

Edit: All chapters up on Tumblr & ao3 :p

Okay, so I saaaaid 3 chapters. But like every good ending to a movie franchise, we going halfsies. ;P I will be dead honest, I have only seen the fist episode of FoP: ANW and have no desire to continue, because, as a 24 yo woman I should not feel this distraught about a cartoon. Also, I'm recalling things from the OG series by memory. So if things don't quite line up with canon or lore, just let me have the liberation that comes with fan fiction. Also, I know the show takes place ~20 years ahead, I like to think Timmy kept his fairies till he was 18 and so it has been 12 years since they have last been together.

Second Star To The Right And Straight On Home ⭐️ (Part 1)

Timmy had been working on this sales report for the first 3 hours of shift. His hands were cramping as his eyes strained at the screen. Maybe he needed glasses? Definitely needed to start taking magnesium supplements. Was he really getting that old? It wasn’t like he had done much in his life to feel old at 30. That was another thought, he hadn’t done much of anything. He’d been at this job for nearly three years, maybe a handful of failed dates, and spent his free time napping on the couch after eating room temperature pizza. 

  What am I doing?

  Introspection always vined its way like poison ivy through the ridges of his brain when left with his own thoughts.  

  I need fresh air, maybe take a walk, go grab a drink this weekend, anything to break up the monotony.

  Monotony: he never used that word. The world was starting to bleed into the black and white screen he worked with, smearing into something gray. This was torture, working under florescents when there was real sunlight. His cubicle was near the back of the office and closest to the windows. It magnified his gloominess by teasing the bright colors of the outside. He frequently cast glances to see streams of sun peeking through tree leaves. Most times, there was a finch sized bird sitting on the closer branches. Timmy noticed it the first time when, strangely, he was feeling watched. Or maybe he was desperate for attention. 

  Lately, when he’d go to check on the little bird, it was missing, leaving him discontent. It was a strange color, akin to lavender or periwinkle. No amount of Google searches revealed the species. It wasn’t uncommon for Cosmo and Wanda to take animal forms. Green and pink dogs were definitely harder to explain. There were no strange looks when they were pins on his backpack or- 

  Wait. 

  Timmy’s brows furrow and he moves his hands to grip the arms of his chair, sitting up straighter. Though he was looking outside, all focus was on whatever was unfurling in his head. 

  Cosmo and Wanda .... did I ever have dogs? No. Definitely not a green one. I had fish, it's a wonder they stayed alive for so long. 

  Why did he think of those names? Why could he picture personified versions of everyday objects? Always the same color. Green and pink. Pink and green. Because he knew them. He knew they weren't pins on a backpack or an .... umbrella? 

  They were my fish. Right? But they were also people. No, that’s not quite right either. 

  They were his fairies. And he remembers skydiving. He’s never been skydiving. But how does he know the sting of wind on his face?  And why was his parachute talking? Timmy nearly knocks over his chair as he gets to his feet, heart rate increasing like the one and only time he went to the gym. A co-worker catches the sudden movement, sensing a source of panic. 

    “Yo, Turner, you good man?”

  Timmy barely registers the words and makes a noise in the back of his throat as a reply.

    “I’vegottogo.” He tumbles out, snatching his car keys and phone from beneath the desk. 

  He has to find that fishbowl. 

💫💫💫

    The house had been shut up since his parents left on their yearlong Winnebago journey. Outside of Facebook posts and a few messages he rarely spoke to them. They were never really the attentive type. At least not to their son. Timmy has a hard time getting the door open. Images and dialogue clog up his concentration. It’s like their occurring in the moment and yet he’s recalling them from the past at the same time 

  Wishing for Christmas every day? Really immature Timmy.

  ‘We’re two halves of a whole idiot!’

  Wanting to be a girl for the day was a bad idea from the start. What was I thinking? Even if Trixie Tang was hot. Wanda did warn me though.

  'This bike stinks. I need one that’s cool as I am!’ 'This bike is as cool as you are!’

  'Did I really wish to be in the internet? Oh dear God I’m so happy it wasn’t the modern-day web.

  'And here's Wanda with the news: Vicky 's going to kill you when she finds out what you're up to!’

  His head pounds from the jumbled jargon he once knew as it takes meaning again. No wonder he felt so bored with his life now. He had fairies and dumb wishes with dumb, sometimes disastrous outcomes as a kid. Cosmo and Wanda were his fairies! There was a whole world of fairies, anti-fairies, and pixies and magic!  And there was a whole book of rules, all of them he sees himself breaking. As well as being the source of new ones.

  When the keys finally make it into the doorknob and he throws it open, not bothering to retrieve them or close the door. After he had moved out, his parents didn't do anything with his stuff. Just shoved boxes and the miscellaneous in as they needed. Everything was mostly in the same spot. Including the fishbowl.  

  It was right where it should be on his nightstand. Timmy went to reach for it but pulled back, staring intently. Dust had covered the glass surface, and he was afraid that disturbing any of it might cease the onslaught of memories. He wanted these memories, he wanted to know his life hadn’t been useless. That there were people who wanted the best for him and didn’t abandon him when there was a stupid decision to be made. Knowing that two tiny fairies said they cared for him. 

  His heart was pulsing hot bolts of pain at the thought of having lost them in the first place. At wondering why his god-parents left him and where they were now. 

  After a long moment, he tentatively reached out, bringing it closer, letting clips of childhood reflect off the glass. It was barely big enough for one guppy, much less three goldfish. Three. There had been three.   

  There was no cringe or embarrassment attached to this wish. In fact he remembered being the happiest he’d ever been in his life. It has been him and his god-parents for a long time, and he never thought it could get better. It was an overwhelming feeling of love that encompassed past and present. Cosmo and Wanda for once hadn’t warned him of the repercussions, despite them being epoch-making; they all knew it was so worth it. 

  Sadness has such a way of tainting things. It crept unnoticed as another memory took place. It was in this room. He felt a tight squeeze around his arm and saw Cosmo’s face pressed into his shoulder, muffling sobs, his dramatics matching the situation for once. A light kiss pressed itself into his temple as Wanda patted down his hair. Tiny hands pulled at his shirt and tears stained more than his clothes. Then there was nothing. Like it was all a dream that faded with the night and the sun was rising a now dull dawn.

  Timmy rubbed at the dust with his thumb, smearing a tear across it. He remembered the third one. His voice choked on something bitter as he saw through the eyes of his younger self, hugging the baby fairy when it all went away. 

    “Oh Poof, I - I’m so sorry.”

    “Don’t be. And it’s Peri now.”  

          💫 💫 💫

  Was that really the first thing to say after 12 years? The strain in his own voice prevented what Peri thought might be condescending. Call it intuition or an inference, but he knew Timmy would come back here. After Dev granted his wish, he sat there dumb struck until the kid asked him what happened next. Peri had pictured the reunion with so many different outcomes that, for a moment, he was scared of ‘next.’ Timmy was all the way back in Dimmesdale, across the country, though that was no problem with a little magic. Magic however, could be independent if left without clear boundaries. Peri had no idea how this wish would work out. Would it be instant? Would it come back in pieces? Would it work at all? He was sure he found a loop-hole. He could recall several times his magic went against Da Rules without the intention, and as dangerous as it was, this was his fail safe. 

  This was Peri’s first time shapeshifting into his human form that was not directly from his normal one. His little finch self has flown through the cracked window, its symbolism lost on him.  A human body felt clumsy, but it seemed like the right choice. What if he hadn’t remembered they were fairies yet? Granted, he was still trying to figure out the wings and crown, it was difficult to hide the markers of his true self.

  It would not have mattered if Poof appeared as a fairy or disguised as human, Timmy could see Cosmo and Wanda in him. He had just been a year or two out of his beach-ball stage when Timmy had turned 18, and the then young kid was already resembling his parents. Now, Timmy was struck with the resemblance to his god-parents. His little Poof had Cosmo’s smile and Wanda’s hair, but his eyes were uniquely his own and easily the most identifiable. Timmy had seen those lavender eyes glitter as they first took in the world. He hated anyone or anything that turned those eyes into blank spaces all this time.

  Peri might not have been going by his government name, but he made a noise akin to it when Timmy pounced on him. Petite as he was, something he got from his father (well, before retirement), he felt enveloped by the embrace. Even as a human, Peri was slight and though Timmy was no body-builder, he wasn’t a teenager anymore. The differences didn’t register as he felt the warmth of Timmy’s near crushing hold. His body recalled the last time they were like this, when it was goodbye. As his mind caught up to the haptic memory, the contrast between then and now made him break.

  My brother remembers!

 Relief was meant to be calming, coming out from a storm unharmed, but for them it was a tsunami. For all the bravado and charisma he showcased, over a decade of longing revealed itself. Timmy wasn’t much taller but it was enough so he could hide his face in his brother’s neck, for once not holding back the tears. He felt the human’s cheek press against the side of his head and it was the most contact either had in a time they had stopped counting. Timmy couldn’t believe this, he never wanted to let go, never wanted to forget a single second of this. How could any magic replace this?

  The moment could not bridge the years apart had they stayed this way for twice as long. Timmy had to force himself to push Peri back by his shoulders, one hand staying there and the other pressed against the back of his head to get a better look. If he still had them, he’d wish for the tears to stop so he could see properly.

    “Oh my God. Poof, look at you! You grew up! How-how could I have missed this?” He hiccuped.

   Peri didn’t bother to correct him, the name was childish but they had both been children when Timmy named him and if anyone had a pass to say it, it was his big brother.  The fairy took a shaky breath, attempting to blink away the kaleidoscopic effect of tears. 

    “Like -,” he has to step back, letting both of Timmy’s hands rest on his shoulders, or he might never stop crying, “Like I said, don’t be sorry.” He smiled pitifully. They could fix it now

    “We used to watch - oh what was that show? Sleazy and Cheezy! And you about got me killed!” He laughed, wanting to recall as much as possible

    “And - and remember the time mom was so mad because you were teaching me to shape shift!”

    “Tree and bee do sound the same!”

    “Okay but, you definitely stretched it with the bird and rocket mix up!”

    “Hey, I wasn’t gonna let you take the fall. You were already falling in on our roof.” 

  Reluctantly, Timmy let go of Peri’s narrow shoulders, the euphoria bottoming out. Peri saw the dimming of blue eyes, and an intense anxiety struck him. This time he was the one reaching out.

    “What’s wrong? 

  Timmy pulls away and moved to sit on the edge of his bed. A musty smell arose as the sheets crinkled under the weight. Peri watched as a perturbed look took form.

    “Why?” He finally says.

    “What do you mean ‘why’?”

    “I grew up, they wiped my brain. You could have lived eternity and forgotten about me.”

     Peri had a lightning-like shot of anger, “I could never forget about you. None of us could.”

     Timmy scoffed, “You’re telling me that immortal fairies, who have had countless god-kids throughout the centuries, would find me so important?”

     The fairy clenches his fist, stomping over to force the human to look at him. "You have no idea how hard they fought for you. Or how much of a hole you left for us. They haven't had a god-kid since you.” 

    “Really?” He concedes. It dissipates into something bitter and selfish when he sees Peri’s resolve falter.

    “Well -

  �� “I figured as much.”

    “No, you don’t understand.” He says the harshness leaving, replaced with empathy. He sits down next to Timmy. “It was very recent. And I was mad and couldn’t understand either, after all we went through.”

   “Thanks.” He says flatley. 

   “Will you just listen to me? When they met Hazel, they said it felt different from their time with you. Because they realized you meant more than being their god-kid. That it was the same feeling they have with me.”  

 They think of me like their son? 

  Timmy wills himself not to let go of another tear, but it has been an emotional day and having half your life re-written can be a little overwhelming.

    “Do they know, that, well, that I know ? ”

    Peri grins, a bit of debonair sneaking in, “Would you like to tell them?”

  He thinks of the first time he met his god-parents, at 10 it never crossed his mind to be skeptical because, hey, unlimited wishes. Now that he’s older, he realizes all the lessons he learned from them. And how he could get away with so much more with Cosmo and how Wanda would nag him like a mother. They were more his parents than his biological ones. 

    Timmy bumps his shoulder with Peri’s, “You realize we probably are going to be crying again?”

    “No doubt. Family reunions can be emotional.” He says with a curt nod, now wearing a full smile. 

  Family. His family. 

    “I gatta ask though, did you say your name was Peri?”