#bird with colorful feathers name

[famoushindi]

10 Most Colourful Birds on Earth

Around 10,000 different kinds of gorgeous birds ( Most Colourful Birds on Earth) can be found throughout the world. Each one is distinctive and special in its own right, and each has a particular effect on the ecosystem. While this may be the case, it is also true that brilliant, colourful birds with amazing plumage in a variety of colours have a distinct charm. To evade predators, animals…

[pyrriax]

Ah, so tell me Sugar or Salt for better preservation?

salt! especially when you're working with dry preservation, which is what it's being used for typically. sugar will attract bugs and other things which will eat away at the specimen, along with not drawing out the moisture nearly as well / at all.

but if you're working with things like rabbits feet, which are intended to be dry at the end, you'd think that the process involves just drying them, right? but you'd be wrong! the process (at least that i've followed in the past) involves soaking them twice, once in a soapy water mixture to remove parasites, then in a high concentrate isopropyl alcohol, rinsing thoroughly between steps.

processes vary depending on what you're working on. another example is that for the rooster i'm planning to take the wings from, i'm going to need to both remove his wings, and go through the process of removing the flesh while also keeping the skin in tact around his bones, since i'm going to be effectively stuffing the void with cotton, so that everything lays properly when its all dried. those are actually going to be dried in salt, which is primarily because he was a domestic animal and i know where he'd been.

[undyinglantern]

took dartrix out of my team like 2 levels before it evolves into decidueye bc i caught a fomantis and put it on my team instead since ive thought lurantis is really pretty for so long, but now that im teambuilding for the elite 4 idt a pure grass type offers enough coverage and decidueye is only level 40 now this guy needs to gain like 15 more levels yesterday

[noxtivagus]

can you hear me crying!!!!

[ambros1an]

sunday x reader - halovian courtship

warning: no spoilers, gn! reader, pining/soft sunday, Sunday info dumping as usual

summary: where Sunday will do everything except confess, and you just think he’s emotionally stunted.

a/n: i read about birds for this

halovian courting rituals

1. Gift giving. Like their close bird companions, Halovians participate in 'nuptial gifts,' a form of gift giving to a potential partner.

You were walking into the Oak Family Headquarters, Dewlight Pavilion, sent to deliver some letters. Although, you’ve been here before, it was still a bit nerve wracking to be in such a place, undetached from your usual position as a lower end employee.

The entrance to Oak Family Head’s office was right in front of you. You bite your lip, shifting the documents to your other arm and knock.

“Nightingale Famil-“

The door swings open. The family head holding the door stands to the side.

“Ah,” Sunday says your name, “it’s you.”

Your eyes widen, blinking a couple times. He remembers me?

“Yes, it’s nice to see you again Mr. Sunday. I’ve come with documents from the Nightingale family detailing a new plan for the dreamscape.”

He looks a bit disappointed?

He chuckles, then calls out to a lone employee, “you’re dismissed for today, I’ll take care of the rest.”

The Oak employee dips his head and leaves. Watching him leave fills a pit in your stomach.

“Mr. Sunday, is something wrong?”

Sunday sits up suddenly, “Oh, no. Not at all.” It’s that movement that makes you realize that he’s been fidgeting with something in his lap…Is he always like this?

“I guess I was just a bit surprised,” he smiles, looking down to the side. You caught him.

“Surprised? To see me?” Although Sunday and you have met a few times. It was always business, just like now—well maybe he did stare a bit intently at you before, but something really was different this time!

He looks up and sheepishly slides a box across the table. “Take it as…being a good part of The Family.”

For a few moments, your eyes set upon him. What is he planning? It’s a small box. Almost nothing could fit in there. You lift the top up.

You gasp. Earrings worth more than your entire life’s salary. You slam it shut.

“M-Mr. Sunday. This really isn’t necessary. I just—“ you ramble on. Sunday places his gloved hand on yours.

“Please, take it.”

Looking into his eyes, you realize that putting up a fight with the Oak Head won’t get you anywhere. You reluctantly take the box.

2. Preening. Similar to nature, touching a Halovian's wings is an intimate gesture to show one's interest in a romantic partner. Someone should never touch a Halovian's wings without asking!

Soon after, you come across Sunday again. This time at the Nightingale Family’s institution. You were putting away blueprints, plans and documents your coworkers left laying around haphazardly. When a familiar voice calls out to you.

“Good evening. Working hard, I see.”

“Mr. Sunday?”

He approached you, then looked around the room. He seemed to realize the situation you were in and scorned your coworkers. He mumbled something about you and moving to the “Oak Family.” As he spoke his wings were fluttering. They looked smooth and soft.

“You’ve been staring at my wings. Do they interest you that much?” He chuckles.

“Well, they are very pretty but—“

“Would you like to touch them?” A light blush spreads across his face. Despite that, he seemed perfectly poised. His hands clasped behind his back, standing straight and looking right at you.

“I-is that alright?” tumbles from your lips. You hesitantly reach out.

“I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

Upon touching them, Sunday’s wings twitched away from you before settling down. The feathers are soft and plush. Some are darker in color while others are more pale. They’re surprisingly fluffy. A bit like fur but more delicate.

The blush darkened, his gaze shifted off to the wall. His composure utterly broken, his hands fidgeted behind his back.

“Did you know that birds groom each other as a social activity? It occurs between…ma-members of a flock.” He sputters. What is he saying?

Your fingers stroking his feathers create a flutter within his stomach. He leans into the touch. Taking that as a sign to continue, you reach farther up, a light brush into the coverts of his feathers. Sunday gasps and pulls away.

“…You must take good care of them. Are all Halovian wings soft like yours?”

He wishes that moment would never end.

3. Song. During courtship rituals many birds of different species tend to sing and dance. While that is popular among Halovian people, some may chose show affection through instruments instead.

One day, a notice appears at your door. Upon examining it you realize it’s an invitation from Sunday, instructing you to his office within the Dewlight Pavilion.

Could it be about the documents you sent him last time? You wrack your brain for any possible explanation. He had been acting weirder than usual.

Heat build up in your face upon recalling Sunday’s recent appreciation for you. The earrings that are far too expensive to wear anywhere, and even worse—you bury your face into your hands. In a profound display of unprofessionalism, he let you touch his wings.

Still, every muscle in your body jittered with excitement, even though it shouldn’t.

♫ ♬ ♩

Suddenly, the closer you got, the more the hallway echoed with the sound of a violin. Slowly, you carefully stepped towards the sound, till you found its source.

Sunday was playing the violin. You couldn’t help but freeze where you were and watch him. He truly did look like angel. As he drew his bow across the strings, the light from the window shined down on him. His hair reflected the light appearing almost white. Was he always this beautiful?

Abruptly, he stands up, “You’re early. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” you closed the door behind you, “I didn’t know you could play. What song was it?”

He places the violin down on his table and approached you, “It’s ‘Salut d’amor,’ one of the first pieces I learned how to play,” Sunday put his hand behind his back, “the dream master was the one that taught me.”

“It was very pretty, I can tell you’ve been playing for a long time.”

“Thank you.” A light blush spreads onto his cheeks, but it’s gone before you can realize it.

A loud silence sweeps the room. The two of you avert your eyes. This side of Sunday feels so different from what you’ve been told. He always maintains a professional barrier. But if so, what was this?

Sunday calls your name, “how do you feel about me?”

“What?” The question is so out of the blue, you must’ve heard wrong, “I think you’re a nice guy—“

“I meant as a partner, I thought you knew. Was I not obvious enough?” He mumbles over the last sentence.

“I—well—“ you stumble over your words. He was serious. The earrings, the wing touching, the invitation. You dismissed it as him buttering you up. The ‘most handsome man in Penacony’ as delegated by the latest magazines, had feelings for you?

Your face felt so hot, you felt as if you could combust into flames at any moment, “I feel the same.”

His expression softened. “That’s a relief, I don’t have to cancel those reservations then.”

“Reservations?! Mr. Sunday-“

“Just Sunday. I’ll pick you up later then,” he smiled, then placed his hand near your ear, as if looking for something, “Oh, but this time remember to wear those earrings.”

a/n #2: soft Sunday is real, did u see how protective he was of Robin in the quest? i need more hoyo. feed my delusion

[starry-bi-sky]

a half-ghost--? no- no wait, that's a changeling. that's even worse.

so i'd like to preface this by saying this stems from me going entirely off the rails thinking about tales of the passerine-- which is frankly quite on brand for me to think of one au, and then develop it so far left ways that it makes another au entirely.

bUT. Context! Danny's ancestors sometime before they immigrated to America had a fae marry into the family. This had its Side Effects. Naturally. The Fentonnightengale responsible for this charmed a fae thanks to their swagless nature and awkward demeanor, so instead of getting eaten the fae thought it was cute instead. The fae marrying into the family had an affinity for music, but that kinda repressed itself by accident -- blame the salem witch trials.

By the time Danny is born, the fae blood has become so latent that it really doesn't show up anymore other than the Fentons Eccentricity and obsession with the supernatural (a latent desire to return home to the fae realm - aka infinite realms). There's an unnatural charm surrounding the fenton that really only creeps almost every human within a visual radius, and Danny is no exception.

hoWEVEr. the accident that turned danny into a halfa in one timeline did no such thing in this one -- it just reactivated his latent fae blood, and reactivated it with a fervor. Effectively turning Danny from a human into a changeling.

Danny just thinks at first that he's a half-ghost -- only to realize later on from Clockwork that he's not one at all. He's very much fae -- which is a wild discovery for Danny to make. It also means his rogues are quite a bit more intimidated by him. Fae are above ghosts in the Infinite Realm Creature Hierarchy, no matter how powerful they are. A fae can still Steal the name of a ghost, so Danny's rogues are rather skittish/unsure around Danny until they realize he doesn't know he's a changeling -- after that, many of them vow to try and keep it secret amongst themselves.

Danny's 'ghost' form is rather birdlike, and in human form his appearance warps to match his comfortability. When he's alone with his friends he starts taking on unnatural features. -- his blue-green eyes brighten and his pupils elongate, his teeth sharpen, and his ears grow longer and animal-like. His hair softens to be more feathery, his nails sharpen. In general he takes on more 'bird-ish' features. At school, around his parents, and when he's stressed, tense, or scared, he looks completely human -- an instinctual survival mechanism.

As a ghost, he has large, pretty wings that gradient from black to dark purple-blue, with a shimmer across the feathers that resembles the aurora borealis. His limbs elongate, his legs becoming bird-like and his talons grow on both his feet and nails. His ears vaguely resemble a rabbit's, although they don't flop down like one. All his teeth sharpen. Razor sharp chompers, capable of biting through bone. His eyes take on a greenish-hue, but otherwise remain the same color, albeit his sclera becomes blue-ish and his pupils become diamond-shaped and white. Rings of seafoam blue circle around his iris, creating a reflective sheen. He makes chirping, creaking noises, and when he speaks there's a faint overlap that is very enchanting.

Overall he's rather beautiful in a terrifyingly inhuman way, its hard to take your eyes off him. He has a lot of feathers. He's very drawn to singing and music in general, and gets into music sometime after his accident. He likes flutes/ocarinas/woodwinds the most, followed shortly after by strings, and then piano. He also slowly loses the ability to lie -- which is really annoying and also terrifying until he learns how to reword himself and become a better wordsmith.

SInce this stemmed from an older brother dpdc au, its gonna stay an older brother dpdc au alsfh. i'll just get to the dpxdc part in another post since i wanted to get this off my chest first

[kedreeva]

Okay so, I don't think I've spoken of the saga here yet but! Gather round. I shall tell you a long story about the bird I just acquired and why she is VERY IMPORTANT.

At the beginning of last fall, I started looking into quail genetics a little more, because I got tired of not being able to sex my Celadon quail by their feathers. Originally I thought I could kill 2 birds (ok maybe more) with 1 stone and order nice jumbo wild type (which MANY places advertised as wild type jumbo) hatching eggs, and this would help me put some size on the Celadons (jumbo) while also making them feather sexable (wild type). Perfect!

But then I come to find out that pretty much all jumbo lines are jumbo BROWNS, as in they all have the sex linked brown (SLB) gene. So, I was a little confused and a LOT annoyed because I wanted to work specifically with the wild type color/pattern. No mutations just straight, plain wild type.

And EVERYWHERE I looked - major production hatcheries, private breeders through websites, Facebook groups, local swaps, craigslist, e v e r y w h e r e -

People ONLY had SLB.

This spring I came across a video showing about the differences between SLB and wild type and I figured if the person who made it can tell, maybe she will have some. So I looked her up (not in a stalker way, her farm name was stamped on the video and took me to the website), and what luck! She was in Michigan! Upper Michigan, so still a hike, but not California, y'know?

So I shot her an email and explained that I was looking for WT and that her site said she bred them and that people could do local pickup. She responded yeah she's totally got a bunch! And I said great, I'm also in Michigan, albeit far away, but I don't mind driving 7+ hours each way, because I really need actual, trusted WT for sure birds for my celadon project, can I come pick them up?

Cue the most frankly bizarre email chain in my short life. As soon as I mentioned that I was going to drive, or perhaps that I had a genetics plan in place, she got super sketchy and started saying how she hadn't really paid as close attention to SLB vs. WT, that it mattered less than she thought it would when she started, that I shouldn't focus on that either, and also that "fawn celadon is practically unheard of" in the hobby and "you should focus on a clean Tibetan because it's hard to find without roux in it) implying that I should concentrate on those things instead. And concluded by telling me if I really want WT, to contact this other person (why happens to be someone I can't stand). It all sounded VERY much like she didn't have wild type males, after all, and had thought I didn't know the difference so it wouldn't actually matter. But, it does. It actually matters a lot to me.

So I messaged back to say, well, I don't want to do any of those things, I specifically want to work with this set of genetics and you said you have them so I shouldn't have to go to anyone else??

And then she went radio silent for a week. I kind of figured I'd called a bluff, and that she was one of dozens of people I'd contacted who'd said they had WT only to find out they had SLB. I get that it's difficult to see the difference, but this particular person was the president of the American Coturnix Breeders Association or whatever (found out it's actually just a club formed by her and her friends a year ago, so not as impressive as it sounds, considering they don't actually DO anything- no putting on shows, no newsletters, no certifications, no public breeder directory, no finished SOP, nada), so I kind of expected she should know what she's talking about, if anyone does.

Eventually, after a week, she responded that she had been judging at a county fair, but she had a few heterozygous males (WT het roux, which is fine) and she could set a hatch for me for more if I wanted to come at the end of the month, but she's in WI now, not MI. I said sure, since where she was in WI was actually closer than where she'd been in the UP, and we arranged date/time.

The day of, my neighbor friend, Jude, comes with me for company/keeping me awake through the 15 hours driving round trip. It's a pleasant enough drive. We arrived at a cutesy little house on the edge of town that looks like anyone's house in a neighborhood, with a spacious lawn. The person meets us and takes me around the side of the house to a 6x6x1.5 or so chicken tractor, where she's got some male coturnix. She pulls the available males for me to look through and... fam, they ALL looked SLB, to me.

Now, she swore to me up and down that they couldn't be anything except WT het for roux, because of the way she is breeding them. But I've put these birds next to my SLB males and if I didn't have my males banded, I would not ever have told the difference between them. I still picked up 4 of them, because I will give it a go- worst case, I can produce plain Roux hens/plain Roux males for use in breeding later, best case they do actually produce WT hens and they just LOOK SLB and I have to figure out what the differences are. I don't want to leave without seeing her hens, which she has told me are all WT (which is why the males HAVE to be het for it), and she takes me back. Now the hens, the hens are easy to see the difference. White bellies first of all, but the chest feathers are also wildly different! The shafts are white, the dot around the shaft is dark, ringed in red, ringed in white. On an SLB, the shafts aren't white, it's just a black dot surrounded in a red feather, and the belly is all red/buff/cream, not white.

This is what an SLB hen looks like:

So I take a nice long look to memorize the color, and thank her for showing me and meeting, and we head back home.

I do fecals when I get home because all of the males are VERY thin, no meat on them at all, and since she said she'd been feeding Purina (garbage for fowl feeds), I figured that was why, but no- HUGE coccidia loads in all of them. So I treated them and got them on a better feed. They immediately began putting on meat, and they're find now.

The rest of this summer, I have spent going to local bird swaps and inspecting all of the quail I could find, hoping to find one (1) actual wild-type phenotype bird. Hundreds and hundreds of birds, I have pawed through them all, being super obnoxious to the owners I'm sure, holding and inspecting males. I found ONE suspected WT male (and this is a HUGE "suspected," he could very well be SLB with low red expression). I compared him when I got home and I'm doubting myself still, so I don't know if I will ever actually pair him with the SLB hens or if I'll just wait til I have a roux set.

Regardless, it's been a dry season for getting what I want. It's been a dry YEAR. Yesterday was another swap and more hundreds of quail and me pawing through all of them.

Until.

My eyes landed upon.... her.

If you've only lived in an area that has american crows and not ravens, you find yourself wondering if crows are ravens. You see a big crow and you think wow! maybe that is a raven! It could be a crow, but it's seems bigger so maybe it's a raven. But, if you take a trip to a place with ravens, and you see one for the first time, you realize that there is no question, when you see a raven. When you see a raven in person, there's no question and not only is there no question, you wonder how you could ever have thought a crow was a raven. It's laughable, while looking at the raven.

That's how finding this bird felt. I'd been picking up every SLB hen and going maybe this is actually WT? It could be SLB but maybe it's WT? But the second I laid eyes on her in the middle of a pack of SLB with some mixed colors, I knew I was looking at WT hen, and I can't imagine how I ever thought maybe an SLB hen was WT.

Here's a better photo of her chest and belly (she's beat UP from her previous home, the back of her head and most of her rump are plucked clean from males). You can see the white shafts and the white belly.

And some other pics of her, showing the grey-brown on her side and back- VERY different than the SLB hens

I can't express how stoked I am about this bird. This is the first time after a LOT of effort and time, that I have felt confident I am holding the bird I want.

She's also the indicator that I have a LOT of work ahead of me.

My end goal is to have birds that look like her, weigh 12-14oz, and lay large, blue eggs. I have birds that lay large, blue eggs, I have birds that weigh 12-14oz live weigh, and now I have at least 1 bird that looks like her, which means I can make more that look like her. The first step is cleaning the color mutations out of the celadon line without losing the celadon eggs. This is going to be a bit of a nightmare, BUT, I have a friend helping me out with getting a few celadons that are either WT or SLB (I'm guessing SLB all things considered) to start the work with. I will work over the winter to get a few more actual WT birds here, and to start crossing out the celadons with the SLB jumbos to clean out the other feather color mutations. Once I'm down to just SLB and celadon for mutations, I can clean the SLB out with the WT and roux lines.

This project will likely take me a good 2 years, maybe 3, to complete and then test breed to ensure I haven't lost the celadon gene and I don't have any hidden recessives lingering about. But just having the fucking materials to do it all on hand now is a huge step forward from where I was when I decided to start the project.

[woodlandwrites]

i. mind over matter

aphrodite!reader x luke castellan

pre-tlt, characters 18+, mdni, def going to be a pt.2

warnings: cursing, whole lotta impertinence!

2.7k read - unedited

You have been plagued by flocks of doves and Luke Castellan. So Aphrodite decides to meddle a little a lot in your love life. Who needs memories anyway? Unfortunately, the only person you find comfort in - is the very person you hate.

A/N: first fic in a loooong time - stick with me here. there will be more parts and maybeee some spice? anyways hope you enjoy!

You’d like to think that Aphrodite loved the game of making you miserable. In retrospect, you hated your mother. She was a hard act to follow. 

Don’t jump to conclusions - you loved your cabin. Your brothers and sisters were wonderful - not vain like most campers would say. No, that was not an issue. The problem started with one slender, curly haired, crooked smile boy - Luke Castellan. He was the golden boy of Camp Half-Blood and the bane of your existence. 

Luke was an astonishingly aggravating self-centered egotistical bigot. 

“Why do you hate him so much,” Silena asked one day out of the blue. You both sat in the stands watching Luke teach his swordsmanship class. You pondered her question for a while.

“Because. He confuses me - and aggravates me constantly. I have never met anyone so full of themselves in my entire life. He is Narcissus reborn again. It also does not help that he is a complete jerk,” you nodded as you ate another fresh strawberry. Silena pondered on your words.

“Are you sure this has nothing to do with mom and the whole..argument,” she said in a cautionary tone.

Silena was the only one who knew about you and Aphrodite’s - complicated past. To be fair - she didn’t know the entire truth. The prophecy, the impertinence, all the bullshit. However, she did know that your shoulders seemed to tense every time Aphrodite’s name was mentioned. 

“I mean every time I have talked to him at camp counselor meetings he seems like an alright guy.

Silena - forever the optimist. Sometimes when you looked at her through the corner of your eye she resembled your mother. She had this soft tone and locks of hair that seemed to always catch the wind just right. Yeah, no wonder Luke was nice to her. Selina was extremely beautiful - Beckendorf struck gold. 

“Yeah, I can see right through the façade-” you were cut off by a dove landing next to you. He started pecking at your strawberries mindlessly. Silena stifled a small giggle. 

“It is funny when it isn’t happening to you. The bastards have been following me around for days,” you said annoyed.

You tried scaring the bird away - only for more to return. After a couple minutes an estimated 20 doves flocked around you mimicking every move. 

“Go away!” you screamed - only for the feathered friends to cock their heads in curiosity. By now, the entire arena seemed to convert their attention to you. 

“Hey! I heard if they shit on your head it’ll bring good luck,” Luke echoed watching amused.

He leaned against his sword in a cocky manner. What an asshole - you hated when he did that. The other campers seemed to laugh along. 

“Up yours, Castellan,” you yelled with a face the color of cherries. 

The doves had now increased their army to a solid 50 - all looking to you for a further instruction. Doves had followed you around your entire life - a gift your mother had bestowed to you. The unfortunate part was that they were pretty much the most non obedient monsters on the entire planet. You never had truly understood why they would appear - most of the time it was a random occurrence. Of course - Luke was always there to revel in your misfortune. You still had not forgotten when the doves caused a complete riot last month at dinner - leaving quite a mess for you to clean up. The younger campers were still traumatized. 

That was the thing about doves - they were just like your mother. At first they are nice to look at, almost sweet. That is until they turn into vicious assailants from Tartarus (Silena says you overreact). They also annoy you - another common attribute with your mother. 

“For Gods sake just leave!,” you yelled again, stomping off, bidding Silena goodbye.

You did not want to continue being entertainment for the rest of the campers. The doves seemed to take the hint - maintaining their place in the stands. You were sure there were some week old snacks stuffed between the seats the rotted things could ravish on. Luke chuckled before turning his attention back to his students. 

The sun was setting and soon it would be dinner - but you still sat in bed thinking about what Silena had mentioned early about your mom. Maybe it was your nerves - but you knew a visit soon would be unavoidable. The doves only confirmed your suspicion. It was rare for gods to visit Camp Half-Blood, at least publically. The closest thing the camp had to godliness was Mr. D - what a joke. However, you knew your mother and her constant desire to meddle with your life. 

Dinner went without a hunch - except for the Stoll twins starting a food fight at the Hermes table. You loved quiet nights like these where the summer breeze feels like a warm hug. Silena nudged you - reading her expression you knew she was inquiring about the events from earlier. A shrug sufficed. You were so caught up in laughing with your siblings you failed to notice the yelling from the other side of the pavilion. 

“One of the Ares girls was flirting with Luke after you left today - Charlie and I could not help but laugh. It was so awkward,” Silena mentioned.

 There were a couple of murmured sounds and gawking from your siblings - which was the usual. If there was one thing they loved it was - well - love. However this subject rubbed you the wrong way - maybe it was just Luke’s name being mentioned.

It felt like a suffocating gut punch and it was most likely your mothers doing. If there was anything she loved more it was demigod love - the trials and tribulations - and of course the unfortunate ends. It quite literally made you sick. But why did Luke have to be roped in it and moreover - why did you care? You smiled and nodded - trying to pay attention and not let the thoughts take over. 

“Get these goddamn things off of me!,” a familiar voice yelled in annoyance.

So wrapped up in thought - you failed to care - assuming it was a practical Hephaestus joke with an Ares kid. Selina quickly nudged you pointing towards the Hermes table - for quite an interesting scene. Luke being attacked by a merciless army of doves. 

“Hey Castellan, let them shit on your head - heard it was good luck!,” the words reflected from just a few hours prior.

You couldn’t help but giggle - it was nice not being the receiver of dove aggravated assault (as Beckendorf had termed it). It was also nice not to be the joke for once - everyone laughing at someone else for a change was different. 

“Call the damn things off,” he struggled - yelling your name in the process.

“Why do you automatically assume I am the one who set them off? They just do what they want!” you retorted.

 Silena looked at you - questioning your motives. He struggled even more as the doves thrashed him around - seemling gaining confidence in their blows. They seemed - deadly - more than before. Silena muttered your name.

“You have to try,” Silena persuaded. Reluctantly you obeyed - knowing she was being more serious than she was putting on. 

“Stop!” you yelled sternly to the winged creatures.

Like usual - they did not obey. Unfortunately, they keep going - tearing Luke’s shirt in the process. He held himself quite well against dove assassins  - a fact you did not want to admit to yourself. 

“παύω!” You spoke - pleading that it would end.

It was all your mothers fault. She wanted you to be miserable. She wanted to ruin your night, humiliate you - and to hurt Luke. You weren’t sure why that last part bothered you so much.

 “Φεύγω!” you screamed once more in an earthshaking tone.

The doves dissipated automatically. Like literally - poof - into dust. Again - the entire camp had its eyes on you - what else was new?

“What is wrong with you,” Luke questioned - still astonished at the sheer power of your voice - that very voice that made doves disintegrate. You slowly looked up at his disheveled appearance - he looked worse.

Beautiful. 

You wish that voice in your head would go suck a dick!

“Shows over, enjoy your dessert,” you said bitterly to the crowd taking a bow.

Silena yelled your name but you had already darted towards the woods. You could hear the muttering of the crowd questioning the evening entertainment. You could not seem to care. 

You took a seat in the sand on the beach overlooking the shore. The moonlight seemed to make the water sparkle like diamonds. You felt almost calm here - no one to distract you from your thoughts. Why did his words strike you like a knife? He might as well plant backbiter into your back, it would hurt less. It all led to the proper question - why? Why would the doves attack him anyway? They had never done anything quite so ruthless before - nevertheless to another sole person. 

Then again - it was always about Luke - ever since you got to the infernal camp. He was probably celebrated for his brave victory in the battle of the doves - hoisted up by other campers. You suppose a feast in his honor was in order. 

“You think such unhappy thoughts,” an angelic voice sang from the sea. 

Your attention turned towards a bundle of sea foam. The foam began to sparkle and mangle to take the shape of a woman the closer it got to shore. Soon after your mother - Aphrodite stood before you - in all her glory.

“I thought seafoam was just whale jizz,” you spoke casually. You chucked at yourself that was a good one!

Of - fucking - course. Your mother was behind the entire dove fiasco - you called it. You should start placing bets at this point. 

“Most would be labeled impertinent with that attitude - especially with a God.” 

“I am impertinent.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. Maybe if you really ignored her she would disappear. 

“I will not disappear yet - we have much to discuss.” 

“Get out of my head.” 

“I heard what occurred tonight at dinner. Shame, doves are very gentle creatures.”

A dove magically appeared in her hands, letting out a soft coo. You cringed. If you saw another dove tonight - you might just roast it and eat it. 

“So that was you?” You asked venomously.

“Well thanks mom! Now the entire camp thinks I tried to kill the golden boy with a league of killer doves. They all think I am absolutely crazy.”

“I did nothing, my child.” You gawked at her - she paused to collect her thoughts.

“However, you might want to look within yourself before you spit accusations that are not true. I merely gave you a gift - how you use it is at your own expense.” She finished. 

“But I don’t control those horrid things - they just show up and do whatever. Why would I even attack Luke with a bunch of wimpy doves?”

That was your mother, having the audacity to say you caused the incident. That it was all your fault. 

“Love, perhaps?” Her eyes seemed to glitter at the thought. 

“No.” Ugh, not this again, you thought.

“Doves are a mere - personification of one’s inner love. That is why I gave you the gift - so your innermost feelings can never be bottled. That does horrid things to one’s complexion.” 

“Well thanks for the shitty gift, mother. Next time maybe a pair of socks will do the trick.” 

“Why do you insist on denying who you are? Denying what you are destined to become? Denying yourself the love of the century?”

“Why love someone if they eventually will die.” It was true. Your father had died when you were young - leaving you an orphan. Your demigod friends you made throughout the years died horrible unspeakable deaths.

“Isn’t that all the more fun?” 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you? You just love to see me suffer?”

“You’re being rash.” She fired back.

“Rash? Where have you been?” You scoffed at your godly mother.

“Child, I do not write destiny - I only enforce it. I know you more than you would like to admit, sweet dove. And you - are in love with the child of Hermes.”

 Apollo could’ve shot you through the chest - it would have felt better. 

“Mother, you have it mixed up - I do not have any feelings for Luke. You’re just making things up because you are bored and need some excitement. Please go back to Olympus and meddle with someone else’s life,” you stated. You staggered to your feet dusting the sand off. 

Before you could walk away a bolt of pure energy hit you in your spine. You flew to your feet hitting the ground with a hard thud. In a blur your mother was standing proud above your feet - surrounded in a pink aura. 

“Luke Castellan, he will keep you safe - and you will keep him steady.” 

You might have thought to curse at her - but you couldn’t speak - let alone move. She had disappeared from vision leaving only a dove in her wake. The pain - was excruciating - like being electrocuted a million times. Your ears rang terrible tunes as you tried to level yourself - only to fall back down. The world was spinning at an unmeasurable pace. You could hear shrill screaming - or was it yours? You weren’t even sure who you were? Only images of dark curls, broad shoulders, and crooked smiles flashed through your vision. 

A quake of footsteps running towards the shore were felt as you thrashed in the sand. Voices - yelling a name - whose name? You couldn’t recall. All you knew was darkness. 

“Y/N?!” a feminine voice called. You could feel her hands shake your shoulder violently - it felt like knives.

You heard screams - this time knowing it was your shrill cry. You pushed her away with force. You backed away, crawling backwards in desperation. 

Once your vision returned you focused to see a swarm of kids all in orange shirts - staring at you in shock. The girl who touched you - you could only assume was kneeling in the sand in front of you. She seemed to be pleading.

“Stay away, please,” you pleaded with tears streaming from your eyes. You weren’t sure what had happened but you knew you had never felt pain so deeply. 

“Y/N, please you were screaming. We only want to make sure you are okay. We can go to the infirmary and figure it out,” the girl reached out only for you to retreat more. You hyperventilate on your own words. 

“What’s going on?” another voice asked with urgency from beyond the crowd.

Every child seemed to turn their attention to focus on the male figure. Pushing his way through the crowd - he became shocked at the scene before him.

However, you felt as if all the oxygen had left your body - leaving you limp. You felt as if a hand had grabbed your heart and ripped it in two. He was the one - the one you had seen in your visions. 

“Y/N?” he questioned - half concerned, half annoyed. His chocolate eyes seemed to lock ever so easily with yours. He was indeed the most beautiful man you had ever seen - like a carving of marble. Your soul ached. Without a thought - on instinct alone - you ran. He was engulfed in a desperate hug - his shoulder muffled your pitiful cries. 

“Please, you’re the only one who can help.” You could feel the eyes on the two of you - the gasps were hard to ignore. He went stiff in his posture - not sure how to react. Silence fell over the entire shore, only the crashing of waves in the background. 

“Y/N what is going on? Is this some sort of prank?” he asked in disbelief. 

He had never seen you like this - so scared. Some small part of him wanted to scoop you up, hold you tight, and tell you everything would be okay. He wanted to tell you how he would fix all your problems - just so he would never see you cry again. Although these feelings were so suppressed he restrained.

Gods you were beautiful. 

“I- I don’t know who Y/N is. I don’t know anyone. I don’t know me.” 

[somerandomdudelmao]

Ref sheets! :D

Ain

Iris + some kind of general ref notes for Teegardenians in general

Iris was wearing a cape in that flashback, but I thought you'd be much more interested to know what's under the cape, so her clothes are different.

I've seen a couple of asks from anons who want to make bird OC. A little bit of basic information for you:>

Their names are flower names. Have fun with flower symbolism

Their “skin” can be almost any color, but not too bright. Calm, pastel colors.

✨Jewelry✨ any form and amount you want

Yes, they are covered in short fur and feathers. Humans are the only bald aliens in this universe so far ahahah

The dark spots mentioned in the comic are a sign that this person is engaged in spiritual practices. They're not rare, but only the very religious ones get them.

[naffeclipse]

Petal

Botanist!Reader x Naga!Eclipse

Commission Info

This little fic was such a delight to write and I'm so happy @bluemoon1331 commissioned me for some good ol' Blackwater Lure (naga) Eclipse. Toss in a botanist reader to pair with this handsome snake and you have quite the pairing and a little smooching in the jungle!

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

You swat a buzzing insect swirling around your ear before huffing. The humidity is thick like rain but not a drop falls from the blue-white sky in the middle of a bright, brilliant day. The green canopy overhead provides mottled shade. Despite this, a thin sheen of sweat glistens on your forehead. Swiping underneath the stiff brim of your boonie hat, you draw in another sweltering lungful before pressing down on the camera button to finish capturing a picture of a brilliant cluster of heliconia flowers. The picture is basic, but you only need one for reference in your study.

Common and brightly colored, the bracts of the flower form a beak-like shape which are often called lobster claws. You prefer the name heliconia. It’s far more fitting for the stunning, tropical blossom. 

The deep green stem stands tall and sprouts the flowers high, allowing you to stay standing on your feet as you sweep your camera aside and reach for your notebook. The pages are rimmed with your observations and small, simple sketches of each flora you have studied throughout your stay here in the jungle. Michael and Vanessa seem to appreciate your craft though don’t pursue the same interests. Their place here on the fridges of the wild, feral jungle is a fleeing mystery, but you hope they’re enjoying the beautiful, lush ecosystem as much as you are.

You lift your head at the sound of a steady hum whizzing through the air. A tiny creature floats, its wings blurring with the speed of its flight, and dips low to sip at the nectar of the heliconia. A smile spreads softly over your lips. 

Hummingbirds are drawn to the sweet taste of this flowering plant. The small fowl’s feathers shine with an iridescent blue and green. Another flit by. This one pauses just long enough for you to spy its ruby throat. You lower your book for just a moment. Sometimes you get lost in your botany—unable to see the flowers for the petals—but now and then a creature who loves the plants as you do gives a gentle reminder to admire the brilliant red and deep green colors for a moment. 

Another hummingbird with a wonderfully rare purple sheen and gray body buzzes over to a nest. You jot down a gentle note of what the flower attracts as well as its pollinators. The ink needs a moment to try and stick to the thick paper. Your book is about to overflow, with a few pages left spared but not for too long. There are still giant lily pads you wish to observe upon the water and passion flowers high up in the canopy that you must find a way to climb up to. 

You lower your notebook and pause for a moment. It’s strange. You’ve been here for the better half of the morning and haven’t had any interruptions. This is the most research you’ve done in a good while. 

Taking the blessing for what it is, you bow your head and scribble more, noting the bright color and how it thrives upon the jungle soil. There is nothing richer on earth but this Amazonian floor. The most abundant resources of natural, green goods are right before you and you get to observe each flora up close.

You lift your head again. The heliconia is abundant and red, a few tipped in yellow and a rare, stray stem has a tinge of blue to their edges. Beautiful. You step closer, wondering what genetics carried this special trait into this patch of bright reds. Was it cross-pollinated or did a seed get laid here from another stretch of open, flowering land?

The silence settles over you after a moment. Sweeping over the heliconia, you realize the hummingbirds scattered, silent, and swift, leaving you in a heavy quiet. Even distant birds calling and chirping have calmed. The unnatural hush of an otherwise thriving jungle touches you with a warning. 

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your poor notebook drops from your hands, pages, and pen falling. Pointing your feet away from the patch of heliconia, you fail to take a single step before a soft hiss cuts through the air. You cry out as a strike of a lithe, long arms seizes you from behind and a powerful tail sweeps around your legs. A sharp gasp rips from your throat. In a moment of your world spinning, you’re pulled forcibly into a constricting embrace. 

It takes mere seconds. A tail of green scales, dotted with black, quickly twists you into its coils before a soft hum echoes. You fight the urge to squirm as the thick, corded muscle climbs up your legs, locking them together before winding around your waist. Orange-yellow striping on either side of his long, serpentine form cages you within his grasp. Your arms are, unfortunately, caught in the naga’s constriction. You tug on them experimentally but only receive an answering squeeze in return, your ribs tested for a mere moment. A breath slips away from you.

“Happy day, petal.”

You lift your eyes from your trapped body to face the one enforcing your precarious position. Eclipse. The naga hovers over you, balancing on his tail while keeping you in place. The length of his body is utterly incredible. Ropes of thick, powerful muscle spread across the jungle floor and neatly spiral around you, all while leaving enough to support his humanoid torso. 

You try to shift, to find a little more breathing room, but the naga decides to recline you back instead, setting you into an unsettling position where he can creep up his coils to admire you up close. His fangs flash in a ravenous grin. His venom glistens on the razor-sharp tips before he swipes them away with his dark, slender tongue.

“H-hi, Eclipse,” you answer in a rattle. Yet, a smile manages to work its way onto your lips. “Did you have to startle me?”

“I thought you would know it’s me saying hello. Who else would catch you like this?” he rumbles low and deep and the sound vibrates through your own body. You clench your teeth just to keep them from chattering.

He tilts his head as if he finds you adorable—or appetizing. The frills decorating him are as bright as any jungle flower, orange-yellow, and almost hypnotic in the gradient hues. Slitted pupils observe you in the way you might have just been studying the heliconia, interest keen and desirous.

A nervous sound leaves you, somewhere between amusement and fear. “You can say hello without catching me next time,” you offer. “It would be less… frightening.”

His coils shift around you slowly as if tempted by the thought of squeezing until your lungs can’t expand anymore. You glance briefly down to see what his tail may do next.

“Are you frightened right now, petal?” A clawed hand hooks your chin. Eclipse lifts your face to hold your gaze. You swallow back a few mouthfuls of apprehension. A pulse in your arm presses back against the thick serpentine body. You hope he can’t feel it.

You know he does.

“No,” you answer, then truthfully, “not anymore.”

He hums thoughtfully. The sound echoes with a hissing undertone and gradually softens. His eyes survey you with slitted pupils, one a midnight blue, the other deep emerald, even darker than his scales.

“I agree. I’ve held many prey in my coils but you don’t struggle like them. They bite and claw and cry out,” he answers, drawing it out with a slithering sound that spills heat into your core. “But you; you resist little. You’re as soft as fruit in my palms. You’re deliciously small.”

He lifts out his other hand and slowly tilts your hat up and up until it falls away, stumbling down his coils to lie flat by your notebook and pen. The very breath within you catches as he turns his hand and runs the back of his crooked finger down your cheek, admiring you closely. You lean away on instinct but the snare of his scales gives you little room to escape. Softly, he reaches up and strokes your head. His claws comb down your hair. His tongue flicks out so close to your nose, you wonder if he intends to lick you.

“Although there is one aspect you carry with the rest of my prey,” he simpers. He leans close enough that his fangs glisten in the mottled sunlight. “You look good enough to eat.”

The tempo of your heart rate becomes a beating drum within you. 

“What do you eat?” you ask breathlessly, as if you could stall his hunger.

“Oh, whatever trots my way,” he slips a claw over the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver, much to his delight. His coils cinch around you tighter in what you suspect is a desire to feel every shuddering muscle within you. Your cheeks burn.

“Like?” you prod, trying to regain control of your racing pulse but failing miserably. 

He flashes a sinister smile and a drop of venom slips into his saliva before he licks it away.

“Monkeys are fine for a meal. Jaguars are a delicacy that I’ll indulge in when I have the chance. If I’m in the mood to work up my appetite, I’ll hunt black caiman. Otherwise, I’ll dine on a giant otter.” He watches you closer as you comprehend the strength of his ability to target other predators. Truly, nothing can stop him if he so desires. 

You’ve learned much about Eclipse in the short time you’ve encountered him—or rather, he’s stalked and caught you. He is the apex predator of this ecosystem. He glides between the trees and turns into mottled shadows under the dense canopy and possesses a head as brilliant as any blossom. You do not know the animal kingdom as well as your flora, but you know he is the king within this jungle.

And he favors you, somehow. Though he has played with you like a cat with a mouse, he has never delivered a venomous bite with his wicked fangs or squeezed you until you couldn’t breathe anymore. You don’t know what to name this obsession he holds for you but it’s enough to spare your life. It’s enough to convince you that he cares for you. 

A nice theory you’ve come to consider is that you are in the safest place in the jungle right now, protected by the apex predator’s serpentine body. It’s enough to make your heart soften whenever he wraps you tight in his tail. After the initial shock has worn away, of course.

“I imagine they, ahem, taste fine,” you say, though your tongue is a bit dry.

“Such meals hold a very excellent taste, but I prefer a new flavor as of late,” a low rumble moves through him. 

You swallow roughly. His eyes catch the motion, dropping down to your throat where it bobs before his grin seems to sharpen. His fangs lie on full display.

He tilts your head back slightly, allowing sunlight to brighten your face. “Now I want to know more about what you’ve been up to, petal. What are you studying today?”

“Heliconia,” you answer. He captures you in his intense gaze. You nearly wish you could look away just to concentrate on forming words on your tongue. “The, ah, scientific name is heliconia latispatha, but it’s sometimes called lobsterclaw.”

“Say that again,” he commands.

You almost spit out ‘lobsterclaw’ but catch your mistake before you can simmer in embarrassment. In a steady voice, you repeat, “Heliconia latispatha.”

His eyes close briefly, sealing away the jewel-dark colors of his gaze. For a moment, you study him, fascinated by how he tilts his head as if turning an ear towards you.

“Beautiful,” he hisses softly. His eyes open, slitted pupils thinning in the brightness of the day before he nods. “Tell me more.”

You sputter once before continuing into details about their relationship with hummingbirds. Eclipse lets you spill into a monologue. His attention never lapses as you so often find in those who ask about your botany studies only to realize you are giving them an accurate answer, not a simple and inadequate one-note description. You can almost forget that you can’t move your limbs while falling into a ramble of your studies.

While you speak, his coils keep you cool. His smooth, sleek scales effortlessly ease your sweating while slowly shifting around you, occasionally squeezing as if grasping your hand to remind you that he is here, listening. His tongue flickers out once while he traces your jawline and even your lips when you tell of hoping to locate giant lily pads.

“I will take you to see them,” he says after you pause. Your eyes widen. He grins as his claws slip along your temple, trailing your hairline. 

“Really?” you breathe. You’ve been searching for them for so long—even Michael and Vanessa reported that they have stumbled upon many yet in their travels around the jungle.

“Of course.” Eclipse’s simper deepens while he lets his hand fall to cup your cheek. “Anything is yours. You must only say the word, my favorite flower.”

Your lips part but no sound falls out of your mouth. Eclipse’s eyes drink you in as you wriggle in the slightest, unable to contain your eagerness despite how tightly you are held. His tail moves in answer. Scales shift you towards him as Eclipse leans over you, closing the distance.

“Eclipse.” Your mouth finally moves. His name fills it. He stirs, his thin eyelids fluttering briefly as ripples of muscle fall down his tail.

“Say that again,” he commands.

Your throat bobs before you shift your shoulders. His hands fall to the neckline of your shirt, tugging on it slightly to expose your collarbone.

“Eclipse.” Your cheeks heat with a red as bright as the heliconia. 

“Petal,” he hisses gently, “You’re so sweet and precious. Like nectar. I want to taste you.”

Oh.

You want to say something, that you are not nectar but a very simple, boring human, but you aren’t sure if that’s the right thing to say in the face of a predator who lies inches away from your mouth. He draws his hand under your shirt and palms your shoulder, covering your shoulder blade. He tilts your head up. A soft gasp escapes you when he squeezes you softly, and then as if stealing your air, he captures your mouth. He pushes gently, tasting your lips and grazing them with his slick fangs. Quiet sounds escape you, your hands clenching and your knees rubbing together, unable to take his face in your hands and hold him in return. It’s almost maddening. Almost.

A low hiss breaks the kiss as he draws back. His gaze, despite his serpentine aspects, is soft and glowy. You spin slowly after the contact like you were on your feet one moment and lifted off them the next.

“Perhaps we might find a lily as pink as your cheeks,” he murmurs, much to your embarrassment. His smile is devilish but his tongue slowly traces your cheekbone, and you close your eyes.

You hope so, silently, for such a flower.

[todaysbird]

the red-chested flufftail is a small bird closely related to rails and finfoots, both primarily marsh-dwelling birds. this bird also prefers swamp and marsh habitats; they are found in portions of south & sub-saharan africa. they are named for their unique short, fluffy tail with exposed downy feathers. males have a rust-colored head and chest and black body marked with white dots. females have an almost entirely brown body with paler white dots. these birds are very secretive and rarely observed in the field.

[jp-nichts]

The Takahe

Curious about the mech on the cover of Reactors & Romance?

The frame is called the Takahe. It's named after a flightless bird from New Zealand of the same name. Even though the mech's "tail feathers" are massive jump jets meant to get this thing soaring!

Lore wise, its a frame designed for mobility and exploration of both terrestrial and space environments. The cockpit is located in the chest, and has an expanded compartment to provide barebones living quarters for extended away missions. Since the pilot isn't located in the head, it's head packed with various sensors and long ranged coms. Perfect for surveying and keeping in contact with distant teammates. It might not have the versatility of arms to pick-up different weapons on the fly, but it's head mounted weapons have exceptional accuracy due to the dampeners in it's neck. These dampeners do have the unintended side effect of making the head bob like a pigeon or chicken when the frame is running pigeon

Like most of my mech designs this one originally started off as a Lego build of mine for the game Mobile Frame Zero. A table top wargame that uses Lego mechs as minis. It's a lot of fun by the way. You should check it out HERE (I think I still have some of my bird mechs featured on their website)

My Lego Takahe build is actually a larger version of my Kiwi mech. Which is very similar in design to the Takahe, just smaller and cuter. I love these little guys and have made so many of them over the years.

Like... sooooo many! I have a whole Pride collection of them with each one colored as a different pride flag.

Here is the first painting I did of the Takahe, which also inspired the color pallet for Reactors & Romance.

I also did some pixel art of the mech too. I was hoping to use for a Lancer game, but that didn't happened. I did get to include it as part of my NPC roster for a game of Celestial Bodies that I ran! The players did a great job completely obliterating my children 😂

[thesummerestsolstice]

A Birdwatcher's Guide to Rivendell - Expected Sightings

(Exerpt from Bilbo Baggins' A Hobbit's Traveling Companion)

Many species of singing finches, some of the color and kind of the Shire, but some of bright hues– dusty pinks, deep purples, and gentle greens– that I have yet to see anywhere else.

A great number of sweet-singing nightingales.

Ducks. For the avid birders among you I would recommend visiting in the spring and early summer to ensure you see the duckling season.

An exceedingly small type of shimmering bird which does the work of a bee and which the elves refer to as "hummingbirds." Feeders are set up for them around the valley and, with much patience and time, they can be convinced to eat out of one's hand.

A number of swans, both black and white. Very elegant, though best witnessed at some distance. One of these has silver feathers and often seems to be "laughing." This one you will find on certain days only, usually following Lord Elrond.

A small population of chickens. Apparently they were a gift to Lord Elrond, and intended to be eaten, but instead have become the collective pets of the valley. They are dark-feathered and, apparently, dark-fleshed, though I can't be sure of that last bit.

Addendum to the previous note about nightingales: there is one in particular, which sings much better than the rest, though much more sadly. It is easy to recognize, as unlike all the others, it is pure white.

Owls. The natural kind in Rivendell are the horned ones, though you will occasionally also spot barn owls, which are apparently messengers from the witch of Lothlorien. They are given time to rest and eat before being sent back, and enjoy perching on any in the valley who will let them.

Doves and pigeons, of all shapes and colors, taken as both messengers and as pets by various inhabitants. Lord Elrond is occasionally numbered amongst these, though I can always pick him out.

Eagles, which are magnificent to behold. One particularly large bird– which can speak in elvish tongue– occasionally joins the household for dinner. I am told his name is Thorondor, and that he has a long-standing friendship with the Lord Glorfindel. He has also obliged my of my questions about the history of the First Age.

Pheasants and quails of many varieties. They appear to gather in the valley because hunting is forbidden there, and enjoy mostly peaceful lives because of it.

One magpie. Initially I thought there was a small population, but after careful observation, there really is just the one. He's a fiend about shiny objects, and difficult to spot, but has a rather remarkable singing voice, especially for such a bird. I have found him often in concert with the white nightingale– a behavior I have not observed amongst any other birds. It is a marvelous performance, and I wouldn't miss it.

Lindir, who has the most birdish mannerisms of any elf I've ever met, and who therefore counts as one, by my reckoning. He does also sing very nicely.

[starstruckkittensweets]

“Touch of Red” | Kinktober 2024

Formal Wear || Hawks | Keigo Takami

fandom: my hero academia Goodness gracious, formal wear is my weakness. So I thought about my beloved Hawks in it, and I started salivating. I think this is my first official fic centered around Hawks, and not a little drabble or blurb, so please be gentle! I hope I did our pretty bird boy justice. I hope you enjoy, my dears! warnings: public sex, formal wear + glove kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, Keigo's wings go a little awry when he's all worked up, panty stealing, finger sucking, brief aftercare || words: 3.1k

If there’s one positive about this mandatory hero gala tonight, it’s the fact you get to spend hours upon hours admiring the extensive selection of outfits, from pristine pressed suits to gorgeous flowing gowns. Everywhere you look is a sea of color; deep reds, blooming golds, striking silvers, and rich blues.

You’ve always been a sucker for anything fancy, prestigious events be damned. Staring at all the freshly ironed suits, blending from stark white to enchanting black. Practically drooling over each dress, whether they bear lace, ripples, or sparkles. All of it catches your eye, has you sipping at your glass of wine far more often than you would under normal circumstances. You can’t help it; there’s just something about seeing so many people together like this, all dressed in their absolute finest, that sends shivers down your spine and your heart fluttering in your chest.

Keigo knows about your little obsession—fascination, you always have to correct him—and he intends to exploit it in every way he can. Tonight is no exception; he smirks when he catches you ogling at him from the side, glass practically trembling in your grasp, nearly splashing the liquid all over the front of your dress.

And goodness gracious, does he look beautiful tonight.

He’s chosen a simple three-piece suit with a red shirt underneath and stark black gloves, but it’s enough to have you squirming in your assigned spot in the room. Hair swept back, golden eyes sharp as they roam around the room, finally settling on you. Lips curling into a smirk as you grab a fistful of napkins from the buffet table behind you, praying to whatever god may be listening above that you don’t make a fool out of yourself tonight.

Your presence is all but required as an active member of the commission. Not as a hero of course, but working a bland desk job well into the late hours of the night. Being a hero isn’t exactly something you aspired to be, even when you were younger, but working for the commission isn’t all flowers and unicorns, either. But if there’s one positive your job has granted you, it’s being given the chance to forge a friendship with the winged hero Hawks.

Even if he’s been staring at you nonstop for the last five minutes or so.

Just ignore him, he’ll go away eventually. Don’t encourage him.

You turn back to the table, swiping a piece of candy from the tray in the center and popping it in your mouth. Savoring the sweet taste before sipping at your wine—and nearly choking on it when Keigo suddenly appears right next to you.

“Careful there, birdie. Don’t want you ruining that pretty dress. I gotta say, were you planning on matching up with me tonight? Or is it just a coincidence?”

Your face grows warm beneath his teasing expression. No, you were most definitely not thinking about the color of your dress when you chose it for tonight. Definitely not thinking about the beautiful shade of his wings, nor the soft feathers that mirror the lace stitched around the hem. And absolutely not pressing a kiss to the little feather necklace sitting in your nightstand back home before leaving for the gala.

“Coincidence,” you manage to get out through another mouthful of wine. Damn it, anymore of this and you’re going home drunk off your ass. “You look…handsome, Hawks.”

He gives a light scoff at his hero name; the two of you are all too aware of the precautions you have to take in public. No kissing, no holding each other, no personal names when unwanted ears are listening in. You don’t doubt there’s someone with a hearing quirk eavesdropping on all conversations going on within this room right now, waiting to be released to the morning paper tomorrow. And as much as you’ve grown to admire Keigo over the past few years or so, the last thing you want is to give him any unnecessary negative attention from the media.

No telling what they’ll do to you if they find out you’re warming his bed every night. Rip you apart like the savages they are.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” he says with a wink, and you swear you feel your knees buckle. “Red looks good on you. That one’s gotta be my favorite one I’ve seen you in so far.”

His favorite? He can’t be serious…

You swallow hard and hide your face behind your wine glass. But he’s quick to swipe it out of your grasp with a clump of feathers; curling his gloved fingers around the stem to lift it up to his mouth. Your heart leaps in your throat as you watch him take a small sip, in the same spot your mouth was on.

The exact same spot—is he trying to kill you tonight?! Does he even know what kind of effect he has on you, especially when he’s dressed so…dashingly?!

Apparently he does, by the way he smirks at you over the rim of the glass. Licking his lips afterward, his golden eyes almost glittering beneath the light of the chandeliers above.

“What’s wrong, little birdie? You look nervous.”

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step towards you; and you let out a yelp when your backside knocks into the buffet table. It would be just like you to end up in a fucking splattered cake because of him.

Stupid sexy hero in his stupid sexy suit!

“I’m not,” you choke out, glancing over his shoulder to avoid his eyes. Thankfully no one’s looking in your direction, witnessing the winged hero practically cornering you against the snack table. “I…I don’t…” Your cheeks are on fire, blood singing in your veins as he keeps his eyes fixed on you. “…You just look good tonight, okay?”

“Aww, birdie, you’re too sweet!” He leans in close, nose brushing your own as he rests your wine glass on the table behind you. “I tried my best just for you, after all!”

Of course you did, you feathered fuck.

“How nice… I’m sure you have a hundred admirers in this room alone, with that suit of yours.”

“Nah, not really. Barely notice ‘em! The only one I can see is you.”

Charming. You give him a smile and start to move away, but then he’s reaching for your wrist and holding it gently between his fingers. Leaning in close, making you shiver when his lips brush against the shell of your ear.

“Boring party so far…wanna step outside for a bit?”

A thousand no’s are on your lips, but you can’t seem to say them out loud. Your mind is spiraling, heart pounding against your ribcage, echoing in your ears.

You can’t. What if someone sees you? What if you’re gone for too long and someone notices? What if someone thinks you’re together? What if this backfires on both of you? What if the commission fires you after tonight for not acting professional enough? For getting too close to their precious golden boy?

He smiles, stretching his hand out to you, and suddenly you can’t remember what you were so nervous about in the first place.

“…Okay.”

His fingers feel so good laced together with your own. His red wings spread out, guarding you from any unwanted attention. He waves to any other guests that glance his way, insisting that he needs some fresh air, maybe even a quick flight to stretch his wings and then he’ll be back. He’s always been easy-going and confident with himself in the spotlight, able to sway the crowd and have them swooning over him, hanging onto every word that falls from his mouth.

All too soon you find yourselves out in the hallway, where a handful of heroes and commission workers are gathered. Luckily none of them pay you any mind as Keigo leads you further down the hall. Far away from any prying eyes.

Suddenly he yanks you to the side, not a soul in sight on either end of the hallway. Tugging you into a random room and slamming the door shut behind you. A warm glow fills the room as he pulls on the little chain of the lamp above your heads. The two of you are panting, face-to-face with each other, tucked away in a fucking supply closet of all places.

His lips find yours almost instantly; you can’t help but moan into his mouth, painted nails digging into his soft blond hair. He wraps his arms around your waist, his wings around your body, peppering soft kisses down the length of your jaw, your neck, and finally at your collarbone. Your back hits the wall behind you; somewhere in the room you can hear a few items clanging onto the floor.

“Door’s locked,” he mumbles against your skin, “just be quiet.”

“I’m not the one who has to be quiet,” you remind him, but your smile fades as he starts to suck on the juncture of your neck. “Y-you’re the louder one, you know…”

His lips are heavenly, teeth nipping at your skin, his fingers toying with the hem of your dress. Instinctively you wrap a leg around his waist, moaning as he begins to grind his hips into yours.

You don’t have much time, locks be damned. Sooner or later, someone will notice your absence and start looking. You can only imagine what tomorrow’s headlines would read upon a reporter discovering the two of you huddled up in a janitor’s closet.

Still, you savor the sight of him in his fancy little suit, before pushing his jacket off his shoulders and burying your face against the collar of his dark red shirt. Leaving a few love bites of your own as he rests his gloved hands along your curves. Holding you in place, biting back a moan every time you hit a sensitive spot.

“Keigo,” you whisper in his ear, “I want you to fuck me.”

He allows himself a little smirk, before ripping off one of his gloves with his teeth. “Say no more, pretty birdie.”

His lips are hot against your own, his fingers sliding down the length of your body, right against the small slit of your dress. Your whines are music to his ears as he pushes your panties to the side.

“Aww, already wet, aren’t you? You weren’t thinking about me out there, were you? Having all kinds of dirty thoughts in front of all those people?”

He talks big, but if the tightness in his pants is anything to go by…

Your breath hitches at the first brush of his fingers against your slick. The collar of his shirt is rumpled, the first few buttons of his vest undone. Your dress is barely clinging to your chest at this point, both sleeves tugged down to expose your collarbone and the tops of your breasts.

“Hm? I’m waiting, birdie.” You whine when Keigo slips a finger in, curling it slightly but refusing to move any more than that. “What were you thinking about out there, that got you all hot and bothered?”

He knows the answer, he always has—but he still needs to hear it from your mouth. You swallow hard and force your eyes open, nearly fainting when you see those gorgeous golden eyes staring right back at you.

“I-I…” You clear your throat, the words slipping from your mind as he adds a second finger. “…Was thinking about you, Keigo…”

“Oh were you, now? I’m flattered.” He gives you a cheeky smile before rewarding you with a gentle thrust of his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut, you begin to writhe against the wall, bucking your hips into his hand. “Details, birdie. I need details—I don’t think you were enamored by my good looks alone.”

“N-no… It was—ah, fuck—y-your outfit…”

He leans in so close you can taste his breath, feel his nose brush against the apple of your cheek. “And what about my outfit, huh?”

“’S just… You look good, Kei—always look so good all dressed up…”

“Yeah I know, you got a thing for me in suits, huh?”

There’s no arguing with him as he begins to move his fingers back and forth. Curling them into you, whispering filthy words in your ear, savoring the way you whine for him to go faster. His pants are unbearably tight; he’d reach down to free himself but that means he’d have to let go of your leg, still planted firmly around his waist.

“Always drooling over me whenever I get one of those modeling jobs… You like it when I get all dressed up, huh? Chose this one just for you, birdie—knew how much you love anything fancy. Bet you like these gloves too, huh?”

He reaches his gloved hand up to brush your face, slipping his middle and ring fingers past your lips with a moan. His cock is straining against his pants as he watches you suck on his fingers, eyes dazed and hair strewn about, a thin line of drool trickling from your mouth.

Fuck it. He needs you right here, right now.

He makes quick work of your panties, nearly tearing them in half as he slides them down your legs and pins you against the wall. Bunching the skirt of your beautiful red dress up and around your waist, giving him a full view of your soaked pussy. He wants nothing more than to take his time and taste you, but any moment the two of you can be found. Gotta make this short and sweet for now; save the rest for later at home.

Your fingers fumble with his belt, leaving it loose in the loopholes of his pants, tugging down the zipper and freeing his aching cock. You swirl your thumb around the leaking tip, smearing the bit of precum that’s gathered at the slit. Leaning in to kiss his jaw, whispering for him to fuck you now.

The two of you whine into each other’s mouths as he slides himself in. Your nails dig into his back, legs wound tight around his hips. His wings flutter slightly, each feather trembling with ecstasy. Matching the beat of his heart, so loud he wonders if you can hear it.

“Keigo,” you grind your hips as best you can, eager for any kind of friction, “please…”

He braces himself against the wall, large wings twitching uncontrollably as he sets a brutal pace. Slamming himself into you as hard as he can, pressing you into the wall with every thrust of his hips. You’re nearly sobbing now, tears leaking from your pretty eyes, lips parted with nonstop chants, moans, pleas of his name.

First name, not hero name. Keigo, not Hawks. It’s always been Keigo with you, hasn’t it?

He smiles into your shoulder, suddenly glad he ever shared that part of himself with you.

“K-Keigo, I—”

“Shh, gotta be quiet, birdie.” He presses his palm to your lips, meeting your teary eyes with a smirk. “Don’t want anyone to find us, do you?”

You shake your head no, but the eager squeeze of your pussy nearly has his eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“Oh, of course you do,” he almost laughs right then and there, still rutting into you like an animal in heat. “Bet you’d like that, huh? Someone to walk in and see you all spread out for me, so fucking wet and needy…”

He’s close, he can feel it; can never shut up when he gets like this. But your needs come first and foremost, no matter what. So he holds you up with one arm, sliding his gloved hand down to your bare clit. Drawing tight circles around the bud with his fingers, eager to bring you to your peak.

You twist and shudder in his hold, nails and heels digging into him, face scrunched up in pleasure. “Keigo—fuck, ‘m coming—”

“’S okay, pretty birdie—you can come, come for me, please—”

You reach your high first, clamping down like a vice around his cock, trembling in his arms as pure bliss courses through your veins. You’re so fucking beautiful, more than he could possibly put into words—and the sight of you losing yourself on his cock has him coming on the spot, groaning into your neck and pushing you up against the wall.

Neither of you move at first, too preoccupied with holding each other as tightly as you can. But then the sweat and mess below get to him, and he’s sliding out of you with a pitiful moan of your name. His wings are quivering, but he forces his feathers to move to clean up the place a little bit. Rearranging the nearby shelf, picking up anything that might’ve fallen in the midst of your lovemaking. Snatching up your discarded panties and discreetly slipping them into his back pocket.

“I expect those back by the time we get back out there.” But there’s no bite to your words, nothing but a lazy, satisfied smile on your face as he lowers you onto your shaky legs. Letting you lean on his chest before straightening up your dress. “Don’t wanna go back out there wearing nothing at all.”

But he shakes his head, allowing you to slip his jacket back over his shoulders. “Nah, I can grab a fresh pair from your place. It’s not too far away, I don’t mind!”

“Then if that’s the case, just fly me home right now!”

“Birdie, you know I would,” he says almost sadly, brushing a few stray pieces of hair from your face, “but rules are rules. I don’t want either of us to get in trouble.”

“Even more than we already are,” you mumble, and he giggles before pressing a sweet kiss to your lips.

“Maybe so. Now wait here, I’ll be back in two minutes flat. Try not to miss me too much while I’m gone, alright?”

You roll your eyes and nod your head, and he kisses your forehead before opening the door as slowly as he can. Glancing at both ends of the hallway before slipping out, sending a sly wink your way.

“See you in a bit, birdie.”

And then he’s off, leaving only a gust of wind in his wake, and maybe one or two stray feathers with you to keep you safe. You watch him go, still dazed and drunk on love, leaning against the wall with heated cheeks. Leaving you to admire just how damn pretty he still looks in that suit of his.

[rockingbytheseaside]

✦ An Endearing Infestation

Tw: none, silly fluff

It started with catching one of those tiny rascals in your house as you cleaned. No bigger than the size of your palm, a tiny blob of soot-like ink was accidentally caught amidst your vacuuming when you tidied up your house in your Serenitea Pot. You didn't even comprehend it resembled a small bird chick with one crimson eye since the small thing got frightened and scurried off underneath your couch. Any attempts to look for it were futile.

Another time, you were certain you caught two identical ones playing in the closet before sprinting with a hurried squeak when you stepped into the room. You started doubting your eyesight at first, before speculating the worst - some sort of an infestation in your pristine clean house. Yet your worries were settled aside when you finally managed to take a closer look at the many little birds that found residence within the crooks of your house. Fluffy in an unkempt manner, they were tiny birds that stared at you with their single crimson eye and a tiny crest on their round soot-colored bodies. You could almost chuckle at how silly these weird creatures were, but you couldn’t deny their cuteness. They were afraid you would kick them away, or even shoo them with a broom - but you’re not that heartless. 

The entourage of identical yet tiny blobs often observed you. They appeared curious about the many things you did in your Serenitea Pot. When you read in your study, they would play with the books. When you cooked food in your kitchen, some of the tiny birds would try and help you by pushing the spice rack closer or bringing more stems of herbs. And on late, cold nights, when you’d light up the fireplace in the guest room, even the timidest of the bunch would come out from their hiding spot to huddle neatly for warmth. They were easily spooked by the tiniest of movements, so you did not disturb their gentle napping when they fluffed up their pitch-black feathers and clustered close to you for heat. It was a charming sight.

Nevertheless, you are yet to discover where these little rascals came from. You never encountered them during your travels in Teyvat, that's for sure. However, something about those round eye orbs of theirs seemed familiar… There must be a source. And most importantly, why would these rascals broaden in quantity when a certain Fatui Doctor stays in your Serenitea Pot?

Your brain instantly conjured up a thought, like a detective reaching a moment of eureka when solving a mystery  - Dottore. 

With a grumble and a whine, you had to confront him. To no one's surprise, the Harbinger found solace in your Serenitea Pot, often spending time in your study or directly bothering you. It’s a habit of his, like a daily routine. Thus, you stormed upstairs to your library where he lingered, and saw him sitting casually by the desk. 

Dottore wasn’t reading. He wasn’t mulling over some papers or research. No, he was plainly sitting and peeking somewhere behind the table.

“Dottore,” - you declared his name firmly. “Whatcha got there?”

The man glances at you neutrally; no surprise or dismissive groans. Yep, this man is concealing something. He replies nonchalantly: “Nothing. Just my morning coffee, as you can clearly see. Perhaps you need a vision check, dear?”

You give him the look. A look of raised eyebrows and a glare that says ‘Oh really now?’. Dottore's mouth pressed into a thin line, silently holding the mug. He remained eerily still and silent as if you tested each other through nonverbal communication.

And yet neither of you broke the silence, but instead, a small birdttore peeked from the Doctor’s mug. Even when the little thing caught your scrutinizing gaze and tried to hide in the mug, its single-feathered crest was still visible from the mug.

“There isn’t even any coffee in your mug, Dottore!” - you huffed in an astounded manner, placing your hands on your hips. “Come on, spill it out. How many of those wee bird-things you’ve got hiding?”

“I literally have no idea what you’re rambling about. Don’t be outrageous.” - He replied in such an easy and dismissive manner; it would’ve been believable were it not for that impish smirk that tried to break free on his face.

“Dottore, there is one peeking in your mug and I can see another one hiding by the chair. Perhaps you’re the one who requires his vision checked, hm?”

With a deep sigh and a mocking tone, his shoulders loosened and he reluctantly put down his facade - “Fine, you’ve got me. Consider this as an astute observation on your part. Are you pleased?”

As Dottore sat up more comfortably by the desk, the abundance of teeny ink blobs came out from their hiding. So minuscule yet wobbly, they gleefully revealed themselves and started scurrying everywhere. On the desk, by the floor, in Dottore’s mug… some even happily climbed onto your leg as you stood there, baffled. Dottore just watched with that giddy grin of his.

“... Okay, so, what are these? And why are there more of them in my house? Please tell me this isn’t some sort of an experiment gone wrong and now you’re disposing of them in my home, like getting rid of an infestation.”

“Infestation? Do not be ridiculous. It is clearly the opposite! A small experiment gone right, and now it's serving its purpose.”

“And that purpose is… what?” - You raised an eyebrow. Dottore stood up and smiled cheekily:

“Having bits and pieces of me to accompany you while I’m away.”

He replied so confidently as if it was ludicrous of you to not realize it earlier. Yes, of course. Creating sentient little bird things so your significant other wouldn’t be bored. So obvious!

“...Is this some sort of ritual or experiment that I am not aware of?” - You clasped your hands and asked suspiciously. Some of the tiny blobs climbed onto your head. “Because if this is your way of ‘marking your territory’ then excuse me. I didn’t know that mad scientists exercise such a custom.”  

“Oh shut it. You’re not even mad that I sneaked in so many of them when I visited you. It was comically easy to slip them every other day in your manor. That means they are serving their purpose accordingly. Stealthily keeping you company.” - Il Dottore smiled triumphantly, standing right in front of you.

“Wha-? I can barely handle one Dottore, and now you make me handle many tiny pieces of you? Countless silly little birdttores to keep an eye on me? No way!”  

“Sure, sure,” - The Doctor scoffed and laughed at your attempt at teasing. His one arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you for a much-needed kiss on the cheek. His lips pressing tightly and lingering on your skin. “There, can your endearing face handle just a couple more kisses or must I humbly request for that smile of yours to return?”

You rolled your eyes at him but didn't rebuttal.

Hence, the evening was spent the usual way. Resting by the couch, the fire crackled in the fireplace. And while you and Dottore relished in the rare opportunity of leisure time, the tiny birdttores huddled once more by your lap or perched on Dottore’s shoulder. The Harbinger kept his arm around you, allowing you to rest your head on his chest. Although you couldn’t see through his mask, his stern expression kept an eye on the teeny rascals, as if warning them not to disturb you at home if they didn’t want to be exterminated on the spot.

Therefore, all was well... But Dottore had to think of ways to lock the bedroom in the future so those scoundrels wouldn’t bother you two in bed.

➻ First time posting a fic here. Please tell me how I did! And if you wish to see a casual day with Dottore and his birbttores - here is my art! 

[nyctoaerah]

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

“𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Where Suguru Geto ends up becoming enamored with Gojo’s Non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Abuse, Mentions Of whipping.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo’s Sister! Non-sorcerer! Reader ╰┈➤𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

•───夏油傑───•

THE GENTLE RAYS of the sun filtered through the wide-open windows of the room of the strongest sorcerer; Gojo Satoru. 

[Name], Gojo’s sister, felt the gentle kiss of the sun beams against her soft and [S/c] complexion as she gazed on the window. The sunlight illuminated the sky, casting its vibrant glow all around, while the cheerful melodies of chirping birds echoed in the distance.

Mornings in Japan held a serene and tranquil atmosphere, a fact that [Name] would have readily acknowledged and embraced without any hesitation, if it weren’t for her asshole of a family.

[Name] felt her jaw tighten and her [E/c] eyes narrowed at the mere memory of her stupid family before she blinked suddenly when she saw a butterfly land on satoru’s windowpane.

As she observed the butterfly alight on Satoru’s window, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. This particular butterfly appeared unusually large compared to the typical ones she had seen before that would mostly be on their garden.  its wings displayed a gradient of ebony and ivory hues.

The upper part of its wings exhibited a deep, velvety black, while the lower section faded into a lighter, softer shade. her lips slightly parted as a hint of yellow pigment started to spread across the previously pristine white patches on the butterfly's wings and the butterfly abruptly fluttered away, although she could have sworn that she perceived a peculiar trickle of yellow, as if the fragile creature had bled before her very eyes.

From what she had read, insects blood were mostly clear colored, yellowish, or greenish. So perhaps, the butterfly had bled and she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps that was a sign.

‘That’s weird’, she thought.

“What was that?” [Name] inquired with astonishment, turning to face Satoru, seeking an explanation for the enigmatic occurrence. 

“Hemolymph,” Satoru responded nonchalantly, causing her to tilt her head inquisitively. 

“What the hell is a hemelonymp?” she inquired, her words a bit slurred , unable to pronounce the word properly, and her curiosity piqued by this unfamiliar term. 

 “It’s Hemolymph.”

Satoru corrected.

“Hemonymph?”

“No. Hemolymph.”

“Hemolymph is a fluid that serves as an equivalent to blood,” Satoru elucidated, succinctly summarizing the essence of hemolymph, but leaving her with a desire to comprehend its intricacies.

“That butterfly actually reminds me of you, to be  honest.”

Satoru attentively tended to the small droplets of blood that had emerged from the slit on her lip, which was now swollen and adorned with painful bruises. He dabbed a soft tissue against the injured area, gently blotting away the traces of crimson liquid, leaving no remnant behind.

“All better now?” His voice was as gentle as the breeze brushing past the leaves, and when his fingers swept against her cheeks, it was with the softness of a feather. She nodded, unable to speak, her exhaustion weighing down on her like a lead balloon. 

“I suppose,” she mumbled, unsure of how to proceed. She search for the right words, hesitating for a moment before allowing het eyes to flit over to the liquid on satoru's windowpane before clearing her throat.

“But about your previous statement,” she began, 

Satoru tilts his head ever so curiously, waiting for her answer.

“Yes?” He replied.

Is it because the butterfly was bleeding, just like me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to steady herself, refusing to shift until Satoru had finished wiping the blood from her lip.

Upon completing his task, Satoru rose from his kneeling position and disposed of the stained tissue.

“Is it because it bled, like me?” she repeated, the words soft and introspective, her gaze drifting upward to the ceiling as she inhaled sharply.

Satoru nodded, acknowledging her observation.

“Mhm. Partially, yes, but, you're pretty just like that insect.” he replied,

She couldn't help but let out a small, resigned sigh. Of course, Satoru would see beauty in her; she was his precious sister after all. Yet deep down, she knew that his perception of her stood in stark contrast to the world’s view, On satoru’s eyes, she was the epitome of beauty, but on other people’s eyes? Not even close.

He was ethereal, an angel, a being so close to being a data, while she’s a mere shadow in his radiant presence.

It made her lips purse and satoru noticed.

Jealousy had bubbled in her again, she noted.

“Is something troubling you?” Satoru's voice broke through your reverie. She shook her head, a faint smile gracing her lips as she pushed aside the swarm of negative thoughts threatening to engulf her.

“No, just thinking ‘bout how lucky i am to have you.” she whispered.

Satoru blinked as he didn’t heard her words. “What was that?” his voice held a note of curiosity.

“Don’t worry about it, S’ nothing,” she replied softly, a gentle hum escaping her lips.

“But enough of that, and to your previous statement...”

“Is it because the butterfly was bleeding, just like me?” She asked once satoru is finished and her eyes followed Satoru as he disposed of the tissue stained with her blood.

Satoru nodded, acknowledging her observation. “Partially, yes, but like, you’re pretty just like that insect.” he replied, 

Her gaze averted as she responded solemnly while shaking her head.

“I ain’t like that butterfly though, i mean, i don’t have freedom.”

Expressing her deep frustration, she acknowledged the various constraints that were hindering her progress. Letting out a sigh filled with exasperation, she placed her hand gently on her forehead, as if trying to alleviate the weight of her burdens. In the midst of her contemplation, she found herself questioning whether her circumstances would be different if she possessed the six eyes and limitless, just like her brother.

“Right,” satoru mumbles bitterly.

“Hey, ‘toru.. maybe if i’m not a non-sorcerer and i possess the six eyes and limitless like you, would they grant me freedom?.. and maybe... even love me?” [Name] inquired, observing how Satoru seemed to receive favoritism from their family.

“would they finally see me? Accept me? Love me? Give me freedom?”

her words hung heavy in the air as she observed the favoritism Satoru received from your family.

Satoru’s response was nonchalant, almost indifferent, as if the concept of love was foreign to him.

“They don't love me,” he stated matter-of-factly, his tone devoid of emotion.

“Besides, Why would you want their love when they're nothing but assholes?”  

Satoru’s question sliced through the air, his hand gently cupping her cheek in a gesture that felt more like a stress-induced grip than a tender caress. Annoyance flickered in her eyes at his touch, a silent protest against his dismissive words.

He persisted in compressing her cheeks with his fingers until she slapped his hand, causing him to burst into laughter. As she gingerly massaged her cheeks, a disapproving expression formed on her face.  

“Stop laughing. S’not funny.”  she huffed, annoyed, though, she concurred with Satoru’s observation that they were unquestionably horrible people, as they consistently subjected both her and Satoru to their abusive behavior.

“Huh, whatever.” satoru rolled his eyes, lips forming into a pout as he playfully glares at [Name].

“Killjoy,” He mumbled.

“Fuck off.” [Name] replied curtly as he laughed at her grumpiness.

“Don’t you want to be loved,” Satoru whispers, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. She responded with an exaggerated eye roll, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.

“Maybe i don’t.” she quipped.

“Liar.” He giggles.

“But anywayyy let's get back to our discussion,” Satoru continues, reclining leisurely.

“You don't need anyone else, just me. You don't need those suck up bitches.”

Her mood instantly fell.

A scoff escapes her lips involuntarily. He wasn't wrong. Why seek the fleeting affections of others when she has him by her side? Why yearn for external love when she has a flawless brother who cherishes and supports her unconditionally?

“Suppose that you’re right, they’re nothing but assholes.” she conceded, her voice laced with annoyance.  

“True, True.” Satoru hums, before his eyes narrowed.

“You know.. if you asked me to, I would’ve killed them all for you.” The intensity of his loyalty was evident in his voice as he too, harbored a deep dislike towards them; His own family, excluding [Name], ofcourse.

To him, they were simply a group of despicable assholes who failed to treat him as a child should be treated. Instead of showering him with affection and care, they regarded him as a precious gem—not in the loving way, but rather, they treated him like a possession to be controlled and manipulated.

Their motives behind their actions were solely driven because he possessed the coveted six eyes technique and the limitless technique, which enabled them to flaunt him as a trophy rather than genuinely loving him.

However, Satoru’s adored sister; [Name], stood out from the rest. Their relationship was exceptional, as she treated him with genuine affection and treated him as an ordinary human being—and not see him as if he was a deity.

The love she demonstrated towards him was reciprocated wholeheartedly, further strengthening their bond. Consequently, he developed an instinctual need to protect her; [Name] was the only person who had truly shown him what love meant, the person who healed his inner child.

Satoru also possessed a deep understanding of the underlying cause behind the mistreatment experienced by [Name]. The core reason was rooted in her identity as a non-sorcerer amidst a lineage of esteemed and influential sorcerers. Incapable of perceiving curses and  not having the ability to interact with them. Thus she became a target of their cruelty.

She became a living embodiment of shame for the Gojo clan, which motivated their abusive behavior towards her. Despite being aware of this, Satoru remained indifferent to such prejudices. He saw the situation as profoundly unjust, harboring a sincere desire for [Name] to receive affection and tenderness instead.

The mistreatment she endured did nothing but deepen his conviction. And their control over her was so extreme that she wasn’t even allowed to step foot outside her own home, satoru has to sneak hed out whenever he could. And it was all because the Gojo clan, couldn’t bear the thought of being embarrassed or shamed by the revelation that their esteemed bloodline of ‘all sorcerers’ also consisted of a non-sorcerer. This overprotectiveness towards their reputation had always existed.

They were fucking lunatics that is willing to kill and abuse a child just for the sake of their damn reputation.

The initial motive for Satoru's intention to eliminate the gojo clan was primarily due to this particular reason. Satoru proceeded to fix his gaze upon [Name], and he gently ruffled [Name]’s words.

“But seriously, i’ll kill them.”

“Just say the word, [Name]. and nii-chan will kill them all.

With a hint of amusement, she snorted.

“If you did that, you would become the new disgrace of our clan.”

Despite being labeled as the black sheep and outcast among their clan members, [Name] found it rather amusing that Satoru would jeopardize his reputation for her sake. However, deep down, she was aware that Satoru possessed an effortless ability to resolve any situation. He was the strongest after all.

“Wouldn't want you to take the title i worked so hard to earn.”

[Name] added sarcastically, displaying a hint of amusement. 

Satoru rolled his eyes and let out a snort.

“Why would I be considered a disgrace to the family when there won't be any family left once I kill them all?” He countered, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. The idea of wiping out their entire clan appeared to be a lighthearted topic for him, even though the gravity of such a deed was not lost on either of them.  

[Name] sighed irritably and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever..” She muttered a half-hearted response, her lips forming a small amused smile as she glanced at Satoru. Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help but feel a bit amused by his persistent optimism. 

“Anywayyy”

Satoru began.

“Let’s go out and grab something to eat outside.” He intertwined his fingers, attempting to divert the conversation. However, [Name] furrowed her brows and shifted her gaze away, visibly troubled.

“You do realize that I'm forbidden from leaving, right?” she said with a weary sigh, her frustration mounting. But Satoru simply shrugged off her concerns. 

“Who the fuck cares about those ridiculous rules?” Satoru grumbled indignantly, clasping her forearm gently.

“Definitely me.”

[Name] retorted as she shot him a scolding look, trying to free her arm from his grasp. Although she yearned to venture outside with her brother, the fear of punishment held her back. After all, she dreaded a repeat of the painful whipping she had endured just two weeks prior, as punishment for accidentally spilling scalding hot tea on her mother. the faint red marks of it still lingered on her back. Yet, she had never confided in Satoru about it, fearing his anger.

“No, thank you. I'd rather not,” she mumbled softly, her voice filled with reluctance. Satoru’s eyes narrowed, a hint of annoyance evident on his face.

“Nah uh, you listen to your nii-chan, girl.” Satoru pressed his lips on a line as he looked at hed.

“We’re goin’ outside. You look pale as hell, as if you haven't basked in sunlight for ages,”

•───夏油傑───•

Satoru had actually fucking dragged his sister out.

And left her alone on the fucking park to buy food, and now, [Name] was sitting alone on a park bench while patiently (maybe not) waiting for satoru to come back.

[Name]’s hair danced in the gentle breeze as she settled onto a park bench, cherishing this rare moment of solitude. Being confined indoors for such a prolonged period had taken its toll on her. Satoru, aware of this, would often aid her in secretly venturing outside, allowing her to at least bask in some fresh air.

As she sat alone, she let out a soft sigh while immersing herself in the melodious symphony of birds chirping. 

Satoru excused himself momentarily, venturing off to fetch food, leaving [Name] alone in the park. Despite his assurance of a speedy return, anxiety gnawed at her insides. After all, she was in the midst of the public eye, vulnerable to discovery by her own clan members. With bated breath, she patiently awaited Satoru’s arrival, she closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them.

She let out a quiet gasp and visibly flinched as a man suddenly sat on the bench beside her. Her heart thumped within her chest, reverberating almost deafeningly in her ears. Her hands trembled slightly and became clammy, but she dare not move until Satoru returned. The thought of venturing away from her spot only increased the risk of losing her way or being spotted by a member of the Gojo clan. 

To create distance between herself and the stranger, [Name] discreetly scooted away, distancing herself as much as possible. She studied him intently, her gaze sweeping from head to toe, absorbing every intricate detail of his appearance. His jet-black hair was tied up neatly. It was impossible to miss the bangs that gently brushed and covered his left eye partially, swaying along with the wind. Notably, he donned a similar uniform to Satoru, although with subtle differences such as the baggy pants in contrast to Satoru's fitted attire.

As she observed him, a certain assumption formed in her mind: he too must be a sorcerer, just like Satoru.

The moment the man let out a cough, an unanticipated reaction ignited within her, causing her to flinch and almost leap out of her seat. The visible disgust etched on his face indicated that he had consumed something repulsive, leading [Name] to assume that he had indeed eaten something disgusting.

[Name] felt a lump in her throat. Hed hand twitched, wanting to extend aid to the man in need. However, memories of Satoru's teachings echoed in her mind, warning her to not talk with strangers.

Yet, this man appeared to be a sorcerer and there was a possibility that Satoru might be acquainted with him, considering they attended the same school.

‘Does satoru knows this dude?’ she pondered.

Engulfed in internal conflict, she weighed the pros and cons of assisting him, before deciding to finally help him.

‘Ew..’

She cringed a little as she watched the man next to her suddenly regurgitate his stomach contents onto the floor, the man reached out to clutch his throat in discomfort, his voice barely audible as he uttered words akin to expressing his disgust.

[Name] wrestled with the internal conflict of whether she should engage in a conversation with him, torn between her desire to offer some solace and her uncertainty.

Taking to heart the advice she had received, which emphasized the importance of aiding others in their time of need, she pondered on how she could ease his discomfort.

Suddenly, a notion sprang to mind—she could offer him candy, as it might help alleviate the lingering taste of his stomach acid that clung to the recesses of his mouth.

Taking a handful of candies that she habitually kept in her pockets, she hesitantly tapped the man’s shoulder, hoping to offer him some solace. In a hesitant tone, she uttered,

“Excuse me, sir.”

[Name] offered him an awkward smile.

The man turned his gaze towards her, encompassing her in his piercing stare, momentarily taking her breath away. The twinkle of unease shimmered within her throat as he forced a smile whilst rubbing his throat, further validating her suspicion that he had indeed consumed something vile.

“Hello there, can I be of any assistance?” he kindly inquired, his smile was forced, though, [Name] noted. 

“I noticed that you just vomited... and your esophagus were probably burning from the corrosive stomach acid that accompanied your vomiting.” she  observed.

He observed her with a slightly confused look, realizing that her choice of words was rather unusual. An idiosyncrasy perhaps? After all, she was expressing it in a manner more suited to scientific discourse, something not commonly done by regular individuals. 

With an effort to disregard the repulsive scene of his vomit on the floor, he raised his head to meet her eyes. 

“Well... It definitely causes a burning sensation,” he said, letting out a small chuckle.  

“Ah.. but still, I'm sorry that you have to see that. I didn’t noticed that someone is here...” he admitted, his hand gently massaging the back of his neck.

Expressing his distaste, he remarked with a slight hint of disgust on his face,

“I just recently consumed something... disgusting.”

He added, the thing he consumed happened to be a special grade curse, and it definitely tasted like shit, it was so disgusting to the point that he vomited in the end.

“that explains why you vomited then,” she mumbled. “Yeah,” he replied awkwardly.

[Name] extended her palms towards him, revealing a collection of candies neatly stored in a shiny golden plastic container.

“These are mint candies, sir. You can have them,” she offered, flashing a warm smile at him.

“This’ll help you get rid of the shitty taste of whatever you had eaten.”

In response, he blinked and mustered an awkward smile.

“I’ll have to refuse, but thank you for the offer”

The thought of accepting the candies crossed his mind as a potential remedy for the repulsive aftertaste of the curse he had inadvertently consumed earlier. However, he hesitated, not wanting to impose too much on this unfamiliar girl. What if the candies were poisoned or had some ulterior motive behind them? Nevertheless, he couldn't deny the striking resemblance she bore to Satoru, albeit in a somewhat vague manner.

“I insist, sir please take it.” she asserted.

“No, really, I'm alright,” he politely declined again, accompanied by a smile, shaking his head to emphasize his refusal.

“Please.. I insist sir, please accept this,” she pleaded with a concerned expression, momentarily forgetting Satoru's advice to never talk to strangers.

He observed [Name]’s face and contemplated quietly, recognizing that perhaps it wouldn't be too terrible to accept her offering. A small smile formed on his lips as he spoke to himself. 

“Alright, I suppose I can give it a try,” he replied, his voice barely audible. He accepted the candies from her outstretched hands, feeling a bit awkward in his actions. As he took the treats, a bright smile radiated from her face.

“I’m Gojo [Name],” 

he looked at her with curiosity. Judging by her surname, she must be a member of the Gojo clan, he speculated.

In response, he introduced himself, “Geto Suguru.”

Now Suguru understood why Satoru resembled the girl—they must be related somehow. The thought crossed his mind to inquire if she was acquainted with Satoru, a highly probable assumption, but he dismissed the idea. However, suguru couldn't help but feel perplexed by one thing—why was she a non-sorcerer despite her clan's background?  

“It’s nice to meet you, Geto-san.” she smiled at him.

“Likewise, Gojo-san” he replied, a small smile curling at his lips.

An awkward silence then filled the air.

Feeling awkward, Suguru gingerly unwrapped the candy and placed it onto his tongue. The taste was delicately sweet and cool at the same time, and his mouth gradually began to cool as he continued to savor the candy. With each swirl around his mouth, the repugnant taste of the curse and his stomach acid started to dissipate.  

Yet, his gaze suddenly became focused as he noticed a concealed curse lurking on a nearby tree. Intriguingly, she followed his line of sight and directed her confused gaze towards him. Tilting her head slightly, she inquired,

“What are you looking at, Geto-san?”

“Nothing..” Suguru replied. After all, he knows that she, being a non-sorcerer with no curse energy, was unable to perceive curses like he could. He casted a quick glance at her before he directed his attention back to the tree. However, before suguru had the chance to utter a word, [Name] preemptively spoke, causing him to pause.

“Oh, I see you found a curse up there then.”

•───夏油傑───•

Extra:

•Gojo got lost and was panicking

•Gojo doesn't know that [Name] can see curses

•Geto thinks that [Name] is pretty

•The candy [Name] gave Geto is her homemade candy.

•Gojo was actually planning on taking [Name] to jujutsu high with him and just give her a cursed tool to see curses.

•They're still students in here.

•Gojo is a platonic yandere

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