#blue big parrot name

[wallpapers4screen]

[spotsupstuff]

here's a neat vid, go watch it if you haven't yet

there's Some things that i don't completely agree with personally, like attributing the Third sin to Materialism rather than Connection (i'd argue that the Ancients had no big issue with being materialistic, considering their golden attires and such- and that going with Connection overall better addresses both the core of Materialism and relationships overall) and then attributing the word Dynasty specifically to asian cultures but that's more history/word definition beef more than anything djgklsjlcgjkd

oh how i'd love to have a debate with this guy about Ancients...

[luveline]

If you’re doing requests could you do KBD during Halloween?

uncle Eddie makes sure Steve has the perfect costume. mom!reader

Steve smiles at himself in the mirror. Wren, in his arms, smiles back. 

“We look handsome,” he says, lifting her so her face is level with his own. “I look handsome. You look beautiful.” 

“Hi,” she says. 

Steve turns down to her. “Hi, baby.” 

Avery climbs onto a chair and waves at the mirror. Her fairy princess dress is shiny blue. “Hello.” 

Beth climbs onto the chair after her, wrapping her arms around Avery’s shoulders. “Hi!” she says, force of her greeting sending her pirates hat careening to the floor. 

“Are you ready?” you call from upstairs. “Everyone still has their shoes on?” 

“Dove doesn’t,” Avery says. 

“Tattle!” Dove cries, a picture of fury in her kitty cat onesie, her glued-on whiskers twitching fiercely.

“Well, you don’t.” 

“My toes are warm,” Dove whines, thrusting herself at Steve’s legs. “Daddy, she’s telling on me.” 

“I know, and now you’re telling on her. You’re my little band of tattle-tales, I don’t love it.” Steve smooths along Wren’s face with his finger and takes in a breath big enough to fill his lungs. “Can you let Beth put your shoes back on?” 

“No.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

You fit Dove into her shoes and get the kids to the car. Four car seats is tough work but nothing you can’t handle, and you’re still in chipper spirits when you arrive at the Munson house. It’s decked out in cobwebs and great big spiders made of tinsel and bendy framing, carved pumpkins leading up the steps with fleshy teeth and candles unburned in their maws. Wren gives a comical gasp when she sees it all, a tad scared but quickly soothed when you pretend to be scared too. 

Beth races up the steps first to knock. 

The door opens a slither. 

“Who goes there?” a dark voice asks. 

“Uncle Eddie, it’s me!” Beth says quickly. Her excitement again sends her hat to the stone patio beneath her cons, but she doesn’t notice it, vying to squeeze through the door and see her favourite uncle. 

“I don’t know any Me’s. You’ll have to come back another day, I’m waiting for my very favourite troupe of little girls.” 

“It’s BETH!” Beth shrieks, “Come on!”

“Bethany?” Eddie pushes the door open, unsurprised when Beth throws herself full force into his legs. “Why, you look dastardly. How very scary of you! You have a parrot!” 

The fake parrot glued to Beth’s shoulder waggles. 

“His name is Sherbet.” 

“Wow.” Eddie gives her a hug, his eyes blowing wide over her shoulder. “Oh, wow! Ave, you’re a princess with wings! And Dove, meow.” He grins at Steve. “And your dad is what, Frankenstein’s monster? A zombie?”

“Dad doesn’t have a costume,” Beth says happily. 

“Are you sure?” 

Steve encourages Dove over the threshold, four wrapped plates of sandwiches and finger foods balanced in the other hand. “That’s not funny. What are you supposed to be, anyways?” 

“I’m a vampire, duh.” Eddie slips a pair of fake fangs into his teeth. “I vant to suck your blood!” 

“Ew, Uncle Eddie,” you say. 

“Don’t think you’ve escaped me, second favourite Harrington,” Eddie says, frowning as you slip around him. “You owe me a hug.” 

“Creep,” Steve says. 

“With pride.” Eddie takes the plates from his arms and somehow, the Harrington troupe makes it safely indoors, no further costume parts fallen nor lost. 

There are more people here than Steve expected, Eddie’s friends, their kids, even Eddie’s elusive boyfriend sits out in the open. 

“What are you supposed to be?” Dove asks him with a grin. 

He turns his head to show a painted bite mark on his neck. “Victim.” 

“He’s a dead guy,” Eddie tells her, helping her where she’s struggling to sit in one of the barstools. “Alright, babe, dad said last year we partied too hard, so here are the ground rules. No pixie sticks, no soda, and no climbing on the kitchen counters. If you follow these rules, I am being allowed to give you a Hershey bar the size of your dad’s massive head. Deal?” 

“How big?” Dove questions suspiciously. 

Eddie goes to the cabinet. Inside, there’s more candy bars than one person should ever have purchased in one go. He pulls out a huge one and holds it nexts to Steve’s head, laughing when Steve bats it away. “Huge.” 

“Dad, dad, can I go play with Milly and Joe?” Avery asks. 

Steve was hoping she would. “Sure, baby. Good manners, okay?” 

Avery whizzes off to find Gareth’s kids. Beth stays by Steve’s side and he forces himself to believe that it’s him she wants to be with, not Eddie. “You don’t wanna go play?” Steve asks her. 

“Not yet.” 

You appear again where you’d been missing with Robin in tow. Steve grins at the sight of her, though he’d spoken to her on the phone last night, and seen her the day before at home. “Buckley!” 

She’s wearing a black dress with a belt and her hair is teased into a short cloud. “You aren’t wearing your costume?” 

Steve moves Beth around unthinkingly. “Yeah, it still smelled like vomit. Wren had too much yoghurt. Rob, you really look like Madonna. Your makeup is–”

“It’s trippy, right?” Eddie asks. 

“Mora did it. It’s like, face sculpting.” 

“It’s weird.” 

“I like it,” you say, Wren on your hip giving an agreeable gurgle. “I like your real face more, but this is cool.”

“And where’s your costume?” Eddie asks. 

You frown down at your nice dress. “You can’t tell?” 

Eddie falls for the trip in your voice and attempts to backtrack, only realising that you’re kidding when Steve laughs. 

“The baby got sick on both of us,” you say, turning Wren so everyone in the kitchen can see her face. “But that’s okay. She’s so cute, she’s forgiven. Aren’t you, gorgeous? You didn’t mean to eat all that yoghurt, daddy just kept feeding you.” 

Steve holds his hands up in surrender. “I feed her every day, I know how much yoghurt she can handle.” 

“Clearly not,” you croon, shooting him a loving smile. “You did save us from those awful costumes, though.” 

“Oh, worry not,” Eddie says, “I figured something like this would happen, and I’ve prepared.” 

Awesome, Steve thinks, groaning as Eddie takes his wrist into his hand and begins to pull on him. Knowing Eddie, Steve’s end up dressed as a demon with giant horns, or a fairy. 

The reality is much, much worse. 

“Hey, look at that! It still fits!” Robin laughs. 

Steve looks down at his little sailor’s uniform and sighs. “Barely,” he says. 

“Say the slogan!” you demand. 

If it were anyone else, Steve would refuse, but you’re sitting at the breakfast bar with Wren tucked under your chin, so he takes a deep breath and straightens his white hat. “Ahoy ladies,” he sighs. “Would you like to… uh, set sail on this ocean of flavour with me? I’ll be your captain, I’m…” —his voice drags reluctantly— “I’m Steve Harrington.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shirt

Zećira Mušović x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Zećira manages a miracle

It's a difficult situation to navigate.

For one, it's because the shirt you're currently wrinkling your nose at is a Chelsea one.

Everyone on the team knows of your hatred of Chelsea.

Truly, Zećira just thinks you hate blue. She's known you longer than most others on the team, remembering you as just that tiny little baby who cried when Pernille tried to leave you with Magda at camp.

You're still young, young enough at least to have fairly flexible opinions. Maybe it's not that you hate Chelsea but that you hate the colour blue.

Red is your favourite colour which is why you're attracted to clubs like Arsenal because of the red on their jerseys and rebuke clubs like Chelsea because of the blue.

"Blue is the opposite of red," You've told anyone and everyone on multiple occasions.

So, Zećira puts down your hatred of Chelsea to the fact that London is blue and you'd prefer it to be red instead.

Which is why this situation is delicate.

You stand in front of her, arms crossed over your chest with your little wrinkled nose.

Zećira holds a Chelsea shirt in front of you, waving it teasingly in your face.

"No," You huff," No! No! No! No Not-Wolfsburg!"

"Are you sure? It's got your Morsa's name on it?"

“Morsa’s smelly!” You declare,” And Not-Wolfsburg is bad!”

Zećira laughs, kneeling down at your level. “Work with me here, princesse. You don’t want to wear Magda’s shirt and you don’t want to wear a Chelsea shirt?”

You stick your tongue out. “Don’t like blue!”

“And you won’t wear Magda’s Sweden shirt?”

“Smelly Morsa!”

That’s a new thing you’ve been going through, calling Magda smelly at any and all times that you can. You heard it off Pernille, kind of.

A few weeks ago, Magda left her smelly football socks and boots around the house when she came home from training. Pernille had gone straight to the nursery, to pick you up from one of the few days that you went in so she hadn’t seen it until she got home, tripping over one of the boots and then slipping on the socks.

She’d complained they were smelly and that Magda was smelly after she found out that Magda had gotten straight into bed without washing off all the sweat from the day’s training.

You’d parroted back her words and Magda could now hardly appear in your vision without you calling her smelly.

Zećira sighs, pulling the shirt back.

“You have to wear a jersey if we’re going to train,” She reminds you and you huff.

“I know! A different one!”

This is where Zećira gets a bit crafty with it as she pulls out a second jersey.

It’s a Chelsea one, that’s for sure but it’s very much not blue.

You eye it warily.

“It’s mine,” Zećira says, showing you the back with her name and number.

“It’s Not-Wolfsburg,” You reply bluntly.

“Yeah, it’s Chelsea,” Zećira admits,” But it’s not blue and it’s not smelly Magda’s.” She waves it in your face and you slowly reach out.

You withdraw your hand quickly though and eye Zećira wearily.

“You won’t tell? I’m not a Not-Wolfsburg fan. I don’t want to make Wolfsburg and Arsenal feel bad.”

“I won’t tell,” Zećira promises and you nod, finally taking her shirt.

You pull it over your other t-shirt and Zećira grins.

She’s pretty sure she’s witnessing a miracle, you wearing a Chelsea shirt. She also knows that she can’t tell anyone though because you’ll never forgive her and you’ll never wear any of her shirts again, let alone a Chelsea one.

You pull on your gloves, getting a little stuck with the Velcro but you manage.

You point a finger at her. “Can’t tell,” You insist,” Our secret.”

Zećira smiles, unable to stop herself from teasing. “Are you allowed to keep secrets from your mums?”

You purse your lips.

Technically, you’re not allowed to but it’s a bit like technically you’re not allowed to lie. You’re not allowed to lie but Morsa’s told you before that saying a white lie to save someone’s feelings is okay. Like how you should always tell Momma’s momma that her ugly floral shirt is pretty even though it makes you want to close your eyes and never look at her again.

You think this is kind of similar. Momma and Morsa might get upset if they find out you wore Zećira’s Not-Wolfsburg shirt so willingly. You don’t want to make them sad but you definitely don’t want to wear their Not-Wolfsburg shirts either because you just hate Not-Wolfsburg and everything it stands for. Admittedly, you’re not quite sure what Not-Wolfsburg stands for but you’re pretty sure you won’t like it either way.

“It’s only a little secret,” Is what you settle on telling Zećira,” So it doesn’t really matter.”

Zećira chuckles a little at you audacity but doesn’t argue, merely adjusting your gloves so they fit a bit tighter around your wrists and giving you an antihistamine to take to combat any reaction you’ll have to their latex.

“Alright,” She says as she leads you out of the house and towards the park,” Today, we’re going to work on your catching.”

[renai-fr]

Perler Flight Banners!

Made the first of these when I made the flight flags a bit back (my flight, Light), and figured it was a good time to make the rest of the flight banners and share the designs! To the best of my ability, they're also to scale with each other, so I think they'd look pretty good if you wanted to make the whole set and put 'em on your wall or something.

Sort of also for Dergtober's first prompt ("Flight"), but uh, ran into that thing with trad media where sometimes you run out of materials, ha! This is also why they're mostly not fused (Ice and Water share most of their mid/light blue beads, for example).

(Crafting info after the break!)

First off, all of these are either 17x34 or 19x34 (these squares are 17x17 on their own). They fit fine on the larger squares, but my big squares happen to all be either bright red or bright yellow, and don't show off the colors very well. They almost all use transparent beads for structural reasons- if you want to cross-stitch these, the transparent beads are fine to ignore! I was just making them so they could theoretically hang on a wall.

Colors used (my best guess, not gospel! I get most of my beads from kits/mixed bags, and they don't always list the color names :/ )

Light: Cream/Créme, Yellow, Cheddar, Transparent

Lightning: Copper (metallic), Robin's Egg, Parrot Green, Glitter Blue, Turquoise, Transparent

Fire: Black, Cherry, Orange, Cheddar, Neon Orange, Transparent

Arcane: Pearl Pink, Cheddar, Raspberry, Pink, Light Pink

Plague: Red, Cherry, Raspberry*, Pewter, Brown, Kiwi Lime

Earth: Brown, Light Brown, Pewter, Dark Gray

Ice: Robin's Egg, Pastel Blue, Gray, Dark Gray, Toothpaste, Light Blue

Shadow: Pastel Lavender, Purple, Dark Gray, Pewter, Toothpaste, Transparent

Wind: Kiwi Lime, Dark Green, Bright Green, Yellow, Rust, Red, Transparent

Water: Denim, Turquoise, Pastel Blue, Parrot Green, Teal, White, Marshmallow, Pastel Yellow, Transparent

Nature: Olive, Bright Green, Kiwi Lime, Dark Green, Marshmallow, Cream/Créme, Transparent

(* I used Raspberry on Plague's flag because I ran out of Cranberry. Cranberry looks WAY better, but like... mismatched didn't work at all. I highly suggest using Cranberry in place of Raspberry in all places it occurs on the design!)

Another color note- when you fuse metallic beads, the shiny stuff makes a lil halo around the bead's center hole. For Lightning, since they have wires/chains on their banner/support, I figured it would work fine, but you could swap the Copper beads out for Rust and it would look good enough, I think. You do lose the shiny factor doing that, though.

A couple of these extend off of the side of the boards; better to use a bigger board for them if you have one (or like, if you have a third 17x17, sticking it to the side of the others and scooting the entire design over a peg would also work!)

As is very visible on the Light banner, it's really easy to get a faulty fuse where the boards meet. The trick where you put masking tape/painter's tape on the back of the beads before ironing (the OTHER side, and then take the tape off to iron its side, to be clear) helps a lot on multi-board fuses. You don't have to poke holes in the tape, but I find that doing so with a ballpoint pen or what have you can help a lot with keeping the beads from moving around, etc.

Happy crafting- if you end up making any of these, please ping me (or um, whatever I'm supposed to call it... still don't quite know how this site works) so I can see!

[revelboo]

i just found you and omg i need more tarn :0 the story is amazing and i can never find people who write for him! Maybe one of them where he learns english at some point so they can finally communicate effectively 😭 or at the very least he learns enough to understand her?

He’s trying

L.G. Fuad Pt 6

Tarn x Reader

• Is he trying to tell you his name or what he is? Sitting crosslegged you obediently parrot his alien gibberish back at him. Seeing his optics squint behind his mask like your attempts are physically painful to listen to. Uncertain you point at your self. “Human.” Then at him. “Robot death machine,” you say, pleased at how steady your voice is. It’s not like he has a clue what you’re saying anyway. But if that was his name? Then you just told him your name was ‘human.’ Though, it’s not like it matters when you can’t really talk to each other anyway.

• “Hyoo-min.” Reaching to touch you, he hesitates when you immediately try to push his servo away, face changing colors like it sometimes does. “Robe-aught dehth mehsheen?” Splaying his palm against his chassis, his optics narrow when you make a choking sound and cover your mouth. Are you laughing? “Hilarious. What did you just call me, you little savage?” He growls in his own language as you shake, because you’re definitely laughing at him. Megatron, give him strength.

• Turning your laughter into a very unconvincing cough, you grin tiredly up at him. Because even with the language barrier, he sounds annoyed with you, grumbling. “Sorry, Phantom of the Opera, but it’s going to take years before we can hold a conversation that’s not just ‘me Tarzan, you Jane’ at this rate.” And you’re tired of the game, flopping back to sprawl out. Aware of him leaning over you. Making you almost certain that he’s frowning in disapproval at you under the mask. “I’m just saying.”

• Venting as you smile up at him and jabber your nonsense, he reaches to rub a servo against your jaw. When you push him away again, it’s much weaker than before. Your color is still off, he decides. Watching your eyes close, he curls his servos around you and picks you up, cradling you in the crook of his arm and draping your blanket about you. “You’re more trouble than your worth, Hyoo-min,” he growls, watching you squint and mutter gibberish at him. Too exhausted to put up much of a protest as you turn towards him, curling against his chassis.

• Big servos stroke down your spine as you feel the exhaustion dragging at you. Head now pounding relentlessly and you’d kill for some water, but suspect you’ll just throw it back up. Hopefully the little blue one can find something else for you to eat, because at this point you’d rather starve than subject yourself to that again. “Where we going, Phantom?” You ask around a yawn, looking up to see those red optics studying you as he vents and keeps walking.

Previous

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[yanderecrazysie]

Twisted Zoo: Chapter Three

This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .

Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu@v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 @silkkorchid @thatpersonuouknow @the-ace-reader @pamv11 and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (Some of the tags may not have worked, I'm sorry if so.)

Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 

Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.

WARNINGS: none for now

Previous Chapter: Chapter Two

Next Chapter: Chapter Four

Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.

Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.

Note 2: I worry that maybe these birds don’t fit their counterparts well, since no one correctly guessed them all ;-; I made Riddle a flamingo only because of the Queen of Hearts’ flamingos, and I thought he’d like to be one, if he had to choose LOL

Note 3: You have probably already guessed that the heart system means how quickly they’re becoming yandere. Please keep in mind some with gain hearts faster or slower than the others.

—----------------------------------

Today would be a more relaxed day, as you only had one exhibit to visit. The birds were all separated by wire fences, but they were all part of one big aviary. Tomorrow, you’d be working with the three remaining exhibits all at once, so you were glad to have this day of respite.

The bird keeper was a kind older lady. She gave you a bunch of salads, with notes as to which one belonged to which bird. The salads with shrimp were obviously for the flamingos, but the other salads were a bit harder to remember.

You walked into the aviary, a large plastic container with the separate salads under your arm. The birds were all wide awake, with the exception of the owl, whose green hair was just barely visible from where he had covered his head with one of his wings to sleep.

“Hey! I want to eat first!” A voice cried out to you, “Hey, lady with the food, over here!”

You were surprised to hear such fluent English from a halfling, but when you turned your head to the source of the calls, you immediately understood.

Parrot halflings caught onto human languages quickly. That didn’t necessarily make them smarter than other halflings, it was simply something they were naturally good at. This parrot halfling had mostly-orange wings to match his hair, although the tips of his wings tapered off to yellow and then a vibrant blue. 

The parrot gazed at you curiously for a moment, before his expression became more mischievous, “Guten morgen? Ohayo? Buen día? Zǎoshang hǎo? Dobroye utro?”

“Good morning to you too, show off,” you laughed, walking up to him, “I assume you’re the salad with sunflower seeds?”

He grinned, “That’s me! I’m starving!”

You felt like you were talking with a human, and that fact made you feel a little sick inside. Should an animal with the ability to converse so normally really be confined to a wire cage?

You rummaged through the plastic container, looking for the salad with seeds. The parrot halfling spread his beautiful wings and flew onto a perch closer to you, his talons curling around the wood as he impatiently waited for his meal.

Finally, you found the correct salad and handed it over to him. His eyes lit up and he snatched it from you.

“Thanks!” He said with a grin. Before you could ask him his name, he spread his wings and flew into an enormous birdhouse to eat there. A little disappointed that you couldn’t have a conversation with him, you turned to the raven in the cage next to him.

“Hello! I brought you a salad!” You called out to the raven halfling. He walked over to the edge of the exhibit and tilted his head, looking you over curiously. 

You found his salad fairly quickly, as it was accented with bright red apple slices. The raven drew closer and you admired how his feathers and matching hair color were not black, but a dark blue that seemed to shine in the early sunlight. 

“What’s your name?” You asked as he took the salad from you.

He grabbed the salad and held it close to him, as though someone may steal it. It took him a few moments to process your question before he answered, “Deuce.”

You knew that ravens were normally very intelligent animals. But with the way Deuce took so long to answer and the way he struggled with the plastic packaging, you had a feeling that the same could not be said for the halflings.

Deuce struggled with the packaging a little while more before he handed it back to you and, with a blush settling on his cheeks, muttered a small, “Help.”

You opened it for him with a smile, “No need to be embarrassed, Deuce, it can be tricky to open sometimes.”

He nodded, but you weren’t sure he actually understood you. Either way, he seemed happy enough to have his salad open for him. Similar to the parrot halfling, he retreated to his birdhouse to eat his meal.

You decided to try giving the owl his meal next, although you weren’t sure you would be able to wake him. You would feel bad if you disturbed his rest.

However, you had no need to worry, because the owl halfling was awake and alert when you approached his cage. You rummaged through the salads for the one with grilled chicken chunks in it and found it quickly. The other salads had either shrimp or were plain, saved specifically for the flamingos and peacocks respectively.

You handed over the chicken salad and the owl halfling smiled politely at you, giving you a gentle, “Thank you.” 

Unlike the parrot and raven halflings, he did not open his salad and dig in, but instead put it aside for later. Upon noticing your confused look, he explained, “I’m saving it for nighttime.”

You nodded but secretly wondered why they wouldn’t just feed him at night only. After all, that’s the time owls hunt. But you supposed it made it easier to just feed everyone at the same time instead of making any exceptions. 

Pretty lazy, in your opinion.

Next was the flamingos, and you approached their enclosure in awe. Their feathers were a soft, beautiful pink and, instead of the talons you were used to seeing on bird halflings, they had bare feet much like a human’s, just with webbing between the toes. 

“Shrimp salads, anyone?” You jokingly asked the two flamingos.

One of them, the one with light orange hair, flew over with such excitement that you took a step back, “You’re new!”

“Yes, I’m filling in for the morning meal today!” You said cheerfully.

“How exciting!” The flaming gasped, “That’s exciting, isn’t it, Riddle?”

The other flamingo, a more serious-looking man with red hair, cautiously watched you. He did not respond to the more enthusiastic flamingo.

“Let me just…” the orange-haired flamingo took a salad from you, opened the container, and began methodically arranging the shrimp and lettuce until it looked like it was something out of Chef Ramsey’s kitchen, “Perfect! Hashtag delicious!”

You stared at him, wondering where he’d learned to talk like a teenage girl. Riddle, annoyed by his fellow flamingo’s behavior, snapped at him, “You don’t have a phone. Stop with that ‘hashtag’ nonsense.”

You were shocked to hear a halfling besides a parrot speak so fluently, not to mention so prim and proper sounding. Handing over a salad to Riddle, you asked the other flamingo, “What’s your name?”

“Cater!” He said with a proud smile, as though his name was an accomplishment. You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics, which seemed to deepen Riddle’s frown.

“I have to give the peacocks their salads now,” you told Cater. 

“Bye-bye!” Cater said cheerfully, waving as you walked away.

The peacock enclosure was certainly something to behold. It had a huge fountain and ornate fencing. You tried to wave the three peacocks over, but they refused to come to you. Remembering what Mr. Crowley had said about them being a little cocky, you sighed and opened the gate.

You carried the large plastic container over to them and, with a smile, you held out a salad to the closest one. The tall flamingo gave you a disdainful look, but took the salad all the same. The one with a bowl cut took his with a closed-eyed smile, “Merci, mademoiselle.”

French? You wondered where he had learned French and if he spoke any English. Moving on from that thought, you handed the last salad over to a slightly timid-looking, small and adorable lilac-haired peacock.

All of the peacocks had beautiful white feathers in a fan shape protruding from their backs. You couldn’t help but admire them, despite the way they didn’t seem all too interested in you.

“What are your names?” You asked.

The one with blond-to-lilac hair turned his back on you and walked away with his salad. The one with completely lilac hair merely offered you an “Epel” before following after him.

The one with a bowl cut placed a hand on his chest and, with a large smile, introduced himself, “I am Rook,” He pointed at the retreating back of the first peacock and said, “Vil”.

“Vil is his name?” You clarified. Rook nodded in response. You wondered if he knew more French than English.

Either way, you were done feeding them for the day, so it was on to studying them.

[wqterlillypdfs]

summer blues

pairing: jeremiah fisher x fem!reader, bestfriend!steven conklin x fem!reader

summary: All summer, you had been in some strange sad limbo, and you had blamed Jeremiah for that. For all the girls he had kissed at every party, for the way he made your heart beat and palms grow clammy. But really, was it his fault when you were the one who pushed him away?

word count: 3.3k

warnings: underage drinking, swearing, general sad thoughts. dumbass idiot jeremiah. unedited!

a/n: i went thru like the full range of emotions writing this fic, idk how i feel abt it but this is my comeback after three months of no writing. anyways, hope u enjoy!! 💞. reblogs are appreciated as always!

The sun sets low, casting a warm glow upon the unfamiliar garden. The air is thick with the hum of laughter and music that drifts from the house, and everything seems perfect. It should be perfect. This is the stuff summer dreams are made of, and yet, you’re sitting on the outdoor furniture, alone, and left to your own devices.

Summer so far has been nothing but longing. You had watched as the one boy who had captured your heart at ten spent days at the beach with girls you didn’t even know the names of. And sure, it’s not like you have anything, not even close. But could you blame yourself? Jeremiah was nothing but perfect Carolina-blue eyes and golden skin. He was your summer dream.

The house party was meant to be a distraction, that’s what Steven had said when he tugged you into his car. It’ll be fun, you need to stop being sad all summer. He was nothing but adamant to make this summer the best yet, especially with the overhanging weight that Conrad and himself would be moving to college next year. Steven had never been fond of change, especially not when it came to summers at Cousins.

Steven had long since abandoned you to dance the night away with pretty girls and hooting boys, so instead here you are, sitting alone at a party, trying to fill the Jeremiah-shaped cavity in your heart with fruity drinks and loud music. 

Jeremiah hadn’t been in sight when you first arrived at the party, and maybe that was a good thing. You could enjoy yourself for once, without your wandering eyes finding him somewhere with his hand on a girl's waist. Even just the thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

But sometime between then and now, he had shown up. Figures. And now you watch as he makes his way out of the big back doors, down the patio steps, past the pool, until he’s sitting with you in the makeshift gazebo, fairy lights sparkling above.

“Hey trouble,” Jeremiah greets as he sits on the plush outdoor sofa next to you, sidled up close enough that he bumps his shoulder with yours in welcome.

“Hey,” you parrot back, not meaning for the obvious buzzkill tone in your voice.

“What’s got you all bummed out?”

“Dunno.” you reply, eyeing the cold drink you’re balancing on your thigh which leaves a cold ring of condensation on your bare skin. “Did Steven send you to get me?”

Jeremiah’s eyebrows draw together in confusion as he cocks his head to the side. “No? Why would he need to? Can I not check up on my favourite girl?”

You let out a bemused snort, running your finger around the brim of your glass, eyes still not meeting his. Maybe you have had too much to drink.

“Come dance with me,” he says instead, hand outstretched, waiting for yours. You let your head fall against the back of the sofa.

“Not in a dancing mood.”

You don’t know if it’s the drinks or if it’s real, but Jeremiah shakes his head, a soft smile gracing his features as he tucks the stray strands of hair that have fallen in front of your face behind your ear. His hand lingers there a few seconds too long.

“What happened to dancing the summer away?” He questions, and when you finally look up to meet his eyes, he’s much closer than you expected.

“I was fifteen when I said that,” you note, which was almost two years ago now. How does he remember these things?

Jeremiah doesn’t respond immediately so you take your eyes off him, instead you watch the house glow to life, light filling the windows as the dark night begins to blanket the sky. The garden itself is empty with most of the party opting to escape the summer heat by seeking shelter indoors. A few girls are busy by the poolside, and you notice one of them keeps diverting her gaze back to where you and Jeremiah are sitting. Typical.  It was like every girl in Cousins was obsessed with the prospect of at least one of the Fisher boys taking fancy in them. Was it bad that it always made you jealous? Everyone who sees him, wants him, and you wish you could keep him as just yours.

“You have an admirer,” you point out, nodding to the girl by the pool. You must admit, she’s gorgeous. Pretty brown eyes and gorgeous hair that even when wet seems to frame her face perfectly. You slink further down in your seat.

Jeremiah simply rolls his eyes at you. “Well she is pretty.” 

And you know he means it as a joke. Can tell by the stupid grin and the tone of his voice. But the words are still like a dagger to your heart, twisting and turning until you can barely breathe - and oh God, you need to get out of here and away from him. 

You set the drink down by the sofa, it meets the wooden deck with a too-loud clink before you stand abruptly. You brush down the skirt that had ridden up your legs as the ring of water on your thigh left behind by the glass soaks the edges of it. “I need to go,” is all you can murmur out.

“No, wait-” Jeremiah begins, standing to follow you.

“It’s fine,” you push, faux niceties lacing your voice, smiling as much as the ache in your chest will let you. You can feel the frown on his face burn into your back as you turn to leave, but you choose to ignore it, instead making your way back into the large lively house.

As you pass the pool though, the girl who has been eyeing Jeremiah gets up with a giddy look on her face, she calls to him in a sweet honeyed voice and it makes you sick. 

You climb the patio steps, making your way through the lavish interior of the house.

You push through the crowd of people within the house. You just need a moment to yourself, to gather your thoughts and figure out just what the fuck was going on with you. Carefully, you slip into the bathroom, pushing the door shut with the weight of your body before leaning against the sink. You take deep breaths, trying to calm the beating of your heart.

All summer, you had been in some strange sad limbo, and you had blamed Jeremiah for that. For all the girls he had kissed at every party, for the way he made your heart beat and palms grow clammy. But really, was it his fault when you were the one who pushed him away?

Being in love with Jeremiah Fisher was anything but easy, not when you had to dance around the intricate friendship that had blossomed since you were eight years old. You didn’t know what love was until you were fifteen, sitting on the pier with him as you skidded rocks across the ocean. When he had smiled that smile and his eyes sparkled like the entire cosmos was within them. From that very moment on, you were doomed. Every brush of his hand against yours felt like a calculated step, and it was your fault for deluding yourself into believing he had space in his heart for anything more than a friendship with you.

It’s only a million times worse when you’re as close with him as you are, casual flirting and lingering touches was nothing but the norm. So it was especially difficult when he’d grab your hand and lead you through a crowd, or whisper some stupid inside joke just for you in a crowded room, when such a simple touch set your body alight with sparks. 

“Knock knock,” you hear the door open softly, Steven’s head poking through. You had forgotten to lock the door, you realise. “Jeremiah thinks you're mad at him.” He informs, voice careful and soft as he closes the door behind him, making his way to you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

You shake your head, unable to find the words to express the turmoil within yourself. Instead, you offer a weak smile letting out a shaky exhale. “Well, I’m not.”

Steven looks amused as he leans with his back against the sink next to you, tilting his head so it falls into your field of vision. “You sure?”

“Very sure.” You confirm.

“I think you’re lying.”

You take another breath, “I’m not mad, i’m just…” your voice trails off as you try to find the words.

“Angry, confused, sad?” Steven offers.

You shake your head as you poke his shoulder, “would you let me speak?”

“Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am,” he throws his hands up in surrender.

“I’m just… tired,” you say, defeated. Steven gives you an apologetic look. He’s known about your not-so-little crush on Jeremiah. How could he not when he seemed to be the only person who could light you up when you were dim and down? 

“I’m tired of having to watch him go out with other girls every other day. I mean it’s not like we’re exclusive - we’re definitely not - but I just wish I didn’t feel like throwing up everytime.”

For a second, Steven doesn’t say anything, he looks at you with those eyes he does when he’s thinking. “What’s that thing Susannah always says?”

“What?”

“About…” He blows out his bottom lip as he struggles to remember the words, “about how love is like a flower, it needs time to grow and blossom and you need to nurture it.”

You pause, before cracking a smile. “Never in a million years would I have even imagined you quoting one of Susannah’s cheesy pieces of romance advice.”

Steven rolls his eyes at you, but he can’t help the smile that creeps up on him too. “Look, the point is, love isn’t supposed to be easy. Like, at all. But you really like Jeremiah, and I get it, he can really suck sometimes, especially with the whole hooking up thing,” - he looks up at you as he finishes his sentence, - “but if you love him as much as you let on, you’ve gotta just go for it. You need to stop pushing him away because of your irrational fear.”

Shaking your head, you turn fully to face Steven, crossing your arms defensively across your chest. “Okay, it’s not irrational, it’s completely rational. What if I just end up ruining everything? That’s a super real possibility. I don’t want to lose Jeremiah as a friend, and the risk of running that possibility is way too high.”

“God,” Steven lets out through a sigh, he looks like he wants to strangle you. “Listen to yourself! Maybe if you haven’t been moping around all summer you’d be able to see it.”

“See what?”

“Just go out there and talk to the boy.”

“This’d be a lot easier if you just told me.”

“I think you’d appreciate me a lot more if you figured it out for yourself.” Steven tells you, and he says it in a way that leaves little room to bicker back. He gives you an encouraging nod and a soft smile and for a minute you think he’ll say another stupid thing like go get ‘em tiger! But he graces you with silence and leaves you alone in the small bathroom.

You look back at yourself in the mirror. Maybe Steven is right. 

‧₊˚☆༉‧₊˚.

Jeremiah is sitting on the steps of the patio when he hears the sliding glass doors open and shut and the shuffle of Steven’s old sneakers. Immediately, his head swivels so he’s facing his long-time best friend. “So what’d she say? Is she mad?” He blurts out immediately.

“Woah, slow down lover-boy,” Steven says, amusement in his tone. He takes a seat next to Jeremiah, placing his hands either side of himself. “Well, she’s not happy.”

“What the fuck, bro,” Jeremiah grumbles, “you were meant to deescalate the situation.”

“Actually no, I was checking up on my friend, who I care about, and who I haven’t been dancing around all summer long.” Steven corrects.

Jeremiah looks away, unamused, “okay I get it. I haven’t been the best person to her lately.”

“Really?” Steven gasps, faux surprise lacing his tone, “You’ve been avoiding her like the plague and hanging around with random girls like you want her to be upset.”

“I don’t!” Jeremiah is quick to retort. “I’m just…”

“You’re just being a dick.”

“That’s not fair-”

“Look man, I’m not trying to upset you either, but I really don’t get why you’re so scared to confront your feelings. You like her, you like her a lot and it’s so fuckin’ obvious.”

Jeremiah opens his mouth, ready to argue back, but Steven leaves no room for it.

“She literally craves your attention and you’re out here, making out with other girls like she’s not right there. Is this some weird attention grab sort of thing? What, are you trying to make her jealous? This isn’t like you, Jere.”

Steven’s words cut deep. So deep Jeremiah thinks they’ve scarred him, but maybe it’s for the best. No, it’s definitely for the best. 

“Think about it,” is the last thing Steven says, before he stands up, giving Jeremiah a reassuring pat on the back, and disappears into the crowd of party-goers within the house.

‧₊˚☆༉‧₊˚.

When you finally feel ready enough to leave the bathroom, you think for a moment about Steven’s words. They kick around in your head. You chuckle to yourself, who knew you’d ever be taking legitimate advice from Steven? But instead of confronting your problems like you should, you pour yourself another drink, turning on your heels as you ascend the glossy white stairs. Whoever’s house this is - in the words of Steven himself - they’re fucking loaded. 

The upstairs of the house is empty, albeit a few straggling couples making out in the hallway. You ignore them, noticing the gorgeous open balcony that conjoins to the hallway you’re currently walking down. It’s quiet and empty, a perfect place to spend the rest of the night in peace.

The moon hangs low in the sky now, reflecting off the ocean ahead, and as you step out onto the balcony the cool Summer night’s air bites at your skin. 

It's a glorious view for what should’ve been a perfect night. Laughter and music wafts up from the party below, and you let out another regretful sigh, your heart heavy with the weight of unspoken words. As your eyes linger on the ocean, you hear the sound of approaching footsteps. You turn to see Jeremiah standing beside you, and when you look at him, he gives you that sweet smile.

“Hey trouble,” he begins, “you alright?”

You shrug, turning your back to the balcony as you slide your back down the railing, slumping to the floor with your knees tucked under your chin. “Trying to be.”

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Jeremiah with such a soft voice felt unnatural, and a part of you felt guilty for rendering him so quiet. Silence stretches between both of you like a chasm, as you struggle to find the right words within you to tell him how you truly felt. Instead, Jeremiah fills the silence, his voice hesitant but filled with a quiet determination. “I’m sorry.”

You gave him a perplexed look, “what are you apologising for?”

“For this entire summer,” he says, sitting on the ground next to you as he takes the cool glass from your hands, fingers brushing yours, before he places it on the ground. You tilt your head, curiosity in your eyes as you wait for him to continue.

“I’ve been an asshole. Like, bigtime, and I'm really sorry.” He takes a deep breath, takes your hand in his carefully, softly, like you’re something to be worshipped. To him you are. “And, I… need to tell you something.”

You look up at him, heart racing with anticipation, “what is it?” you all but murmur.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes never leaving yours. “I just-” and when he can’t find the right words, because how is he meant to compress everything he’s ever felt for you into one sentence? It’s impossible. He instead uses his actions. 

His hands untangle from yours, grabbing the sides of your face before pulling you into a kiss. He kisses you. He kisses you and the world falls away and there’s nothing but him. At first, you don’t know what to do, it’s all so sudden, but when it finally registers, you want to cry. Not sad tears, and not entirely tears of joy either, tears of relief, tears that carry the weight of all your longing.

When he finally pulls away you’re quick to pull him back, holding him as close as humanly possible as you kiss him with all the fervour you can muster, hoping and praying he can taste the apology on your lips. But when it gets too much, and you need air, you pull away again. He looks at you, and you hold onto the fabric of his shirt tighter because this all feels like a dream.

“She isn’t you.” He murmurs, soft enough it could be carried away by the summer breeze.

“What?” you whisper back, as to not break the sacred quietness.

“She's. Not. You. None of them are, none of them could even dream of being you. They’re not funny like you, not gorgeous like you. They don’t know me like you do - Shit, I sound like a sap.”

You chuckle, “no, please do continue.”

He shoots you that heartstopping grin. “Oh, so you do like it when I flatter you?”

“Love it,” you answer, mirroring his grin.

His features soften for a second, and again, the apologies cascade from his lips. “I’m sorry, for being such an asshole. You deserve so much better than me, I’ve been the worst, and I didn’t mean to make you upset or jealous, I was just… nervous. God, you make me so nervous I do the dumbest shit.”

“I make you nervous?” You can’t help the disbelief in your voice.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He says, nothing but sincere. He smiles then, and that makes all of it worthwhile. 

You don’t know for how long you manage to get lost in him, but when your thoughts begin to wander, you let the thoughts flow freely from your lips. “Remember when we were ten,” you say, recounting the memory that started this all, “we had snuck out to the beach. We got home so late that night, and we tried to sneak back in, but of course that never works with Susannah. She had said something like-”

“No more sneaking out for the both of you,” Jeremiah continues, “she said we’d had too much fun.”

“But we did it anyway.” You finish, dumbfounded that he remembers that at all. “How do you remember all these things?”

“Because it’s you.” He says it like it’s obvious by now. His pretty blue eyes don’t leave yours for even a second. “I don’t think I’ve loved anyone the way I love you.”

You look at him with that stellar smile he loves so much, but before he can speak, you’re interrupted by the familiar presence of the boy who played cupid. 

Steven shakes his head, clear amusement in his eyes. "Finally,” he breathes out, as if it pained him to see the both of you dance around each other all summer. It probably did. His hands are wrapped around a cool glass, it’s empty. “I think this has been quite a night.”

You nod, blissful, turning to meet Jeremiah’s blue eyes. They speak volumes in themselves, a deep ocean blue that sparkles with some form of admiration, you can’t quite figure it out. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, pushing himself off the balcony floor as he extends a hand for you to take, which you do.

Maybe, this summer could be perfect after all.

‧₊˚☆༉‧₊˚.

general tag list: @thatfangirl42

tsitp tag list: @seaveysoceaneyes @fens-mire @thatonefangirl444

if u wanna be added or removed from my general taglist, or a specific fandom taglist just let me know!

[paperbackpanic]

Headcanons for Toby, Jeff, Nina and slendy with a reader that lovesss animals? (and is good with them) :D like every time they return from a mission, reader has brought back a puppy or kitty? (bonus points if once she accidentally brought a wolf in the house mistaking it for a dog)

Pastas with a s/o that's good with animals!

Toby, Jeff, Nina and Slenderman

A/n: I LOVE ANIMALS! ALL ARE SUPER CUTE but sadly I'm not very good with them lolol I have a cat and a dog though they're my babyss hope you enjoy!

Slenderman

🐾 He does not get along well with animals, at all. He scares most them away just by standing there, problems of being a eldritch horror but once one warms up to him he actually is very gentle with them.

🐾 finds it cute and fascinating how well you can interact with the lil fellas, might even find a way to you to use them in missions. Not a fan of you bringing them to the mansion though, most pastas aren't a fan and may be allergic, and he does not enjoy when animals/wildlife are being mistreated so for everyone's sake, he'll ask you not to.

🐾 If you manage to convince him to have a pet, other than smile dog that is, he would like a cat, probably a black or tuxedo one, because it would be easier to hide the fur that will be all over his clothes

🐾 He's a tidy man, animals that make much mess are not his type, he also don't like the high maintenance ones (i.e hamsters) heck he barely takes care of his proxies, leaving most of them to survive on their own only giving the best ones a somewhat stable life. A high maintenance thing that's not even useful?? Hell no

🐾 Overall, he likes animals but he does not like to take care of them nor have them in his house, he doesn't need more little, bratty, short life-span beings to take care of, he already has the proxys

Toby

🐾 Adores animals as long as they're far away from him, he's scared of most of them at first but find them cute

🐾 Have a strong cat allergy poor thing can't be near one without a mask or he'll start sneezing

🐾 Will help you take care of them despite his fear and allergies, mostly by being on your side handing you stuff but he'll hold the animal still if you need to apply a vaccine or something

🐾 Sometimes his tics will be saying an animal name, because he's spending so much time listening to you talk about them, you find it cute

🐾 He's besties with the mansion permanent pets and will let them stay in his room if needed

Nina

🐾 BIG ANIMAL FAN, especially big ones

🐾 WILL pamper all the pets you bring home, to a point where you have to hide the treats from her otherwise she'll give them nonstop

🐾 Begs Slenderman to let you make a zoo with all the pets, he refuses of course but lets her keep a parrot

🐾 She named the parrot Willy, is a blue one and he's very talkative (much like his owner) surprisingly he can roam free and don't run away/get lost.

🐾Willy will attack on command, Nina did not teach him how to do that but one day she said to another proxy "I'll make willy take your eyes out!" And the birb was near and he just attacked going for the eyes. A moment of laughter and panic later, Willy was safe and the poor victim just had his eyelids slightly clawed, nothing major but Slenderman made Nina promise that she would never command willy to attack a proxy to a degree that can compromise their performance. So now she just makes him poop on people's foods and/or in them

Jeff

🐾 He only likes dogs, not much of a fan of any other species, he will tolerate birds and most of the wild life thought

🐾 He's afraid of cats, whenever you bring one to the house he'll try to act cool but the slightest movement towards him will make him flinch

🐾 Will act uninterested when you bring a dog but the moment you turn your back he WILL gush over them specially if they get along with Smiley

🐾 Fights everyone who criticizes your actions, because "at least animals are better than humans" bedsides you do all the work to care for them and keep the mansion permanent pets safe if they don't get along with the strays

🐾 will complain if you spend more time with the pets than with him, and will throw a tantrum if you tell him to wait because you have to take care of the lil ones before giving him attention

[neflil]

Hearthian oc time!!! Meet Nepheline

Below the cut for more info and doodles of them :3 vv

So I caved in and made an oc. This is the first time I'm really doing something like this so hhhhh.

Nepheline, or neph, a half self insert - half oc! They're a bit younger than the Hatchling, so still considered a hatchling but almost an adult.

They like to draw, paint rocks, and explore around timber hearth a lot! They're cool with everyone and friendly, but much prefer to sit in the background and listen instead of actively talking. That is of course until someone gives them enough time and trust that they'll listen to whatever neph has to ramble about.

They're interested in all kinds of things really. The nomai, physics, the weird quantum rocks ect. Even if they're not the brightest when it comes to that, they love learning about anything when given the chance.

As soon as any of the travellers get back from space, neph rushes over to ask them about what they saw or if something cool happened. Gabbro and Riebeck especially, as neph is interested in what they have to say the most.

As much as they value the village and it's people, they also value their alone time. Sometimes disappearing for days into the quantum groove or the old mines just... Vibing really, doing whatever. They also have a small piece of a quantum rock they call a "friend", of course it disappears every time neph let's their eyes off of it, but they compare it to the travellers going away and mainly- feldspar. It's a rock that keeps them company without actually needing to have someone *there*. Along with really liking to sleep in and let their mind wander in worlds far from here, people often joke that they remind them of gabbro (the pains of making a half self insert while relating to a character hhh)

Their interests and way the explain them isn't that common, so people often turn a blind eye to them. They mostly parrot cool facts people have taught them which results in situations like "but did you know that the nomai-" "yes neph, you've told us three times already". They just want to share the stuff they know

Esker is someone who likes to listen to them! But also share their own stories. Ever since neph was young they'd hangout nicely. Now they radio eachother. Neph is old enough to join the space program but seeing and they aren't that great with more technical stuff, they are afraid. They put off actually seeing gossan and talking about this so hey.

Their scale pattern covers a big majority of their face at the front, it's a mix of lines and ovals. But when I draw them I just... Blehhh color. Also! Nepheline is named that I spired by the Greek word "nephele" which means cloud (and is also my name, hi lol). Since the rock turns cloudy when exposed/put in acid. Therefore, to somehow reference this, nephs face turns a cloud blue color when they're frustrated of angry!

Once they fell asleep in the old mine (that sounds stupid but I swear I've imagined the whole situation, there's more than that trust, might make it into a comic) and people looked for them, worried as they couldn't find them. Once they got back they got grounded to not not leave for there again- especially alone.

Neph despite everything, went back. They drew a nomai, based off the skeletons there and everything they've seen so far. To prove that they need to get off their grounding since they're doing "work". They don't really have a speciality either so yyyea

They used to be named Nephrite but merry showed me a rock named Nepheline, so I HAD to change it because well- we have the same name lmfao

(if you saw me posting this before, no you didn't)

[sleepyfan-blog]

I VERY DESPERATELY NEED/Want Baby Primarch Mers. So Badly. PLEASE!

Ok! I"ll go down the list

1 - Lion - So, the temptation to make him part lionfish is incredible here. There's also the fact that IRL Lionfish are a huge problem in certain parts of the world because they are an invasive species in those areas, as well as incredibly deadly because of their poisonous spines. And considering how deadly Lion and his sons can be... Yeah, I think he's part lionfish. Specifically he has a deep green tail with silver stripes. His spines are black and gold and hold incredibly potent poisons.

2- ??? [REDACTED BY THE ORDER OF THE EMPEROR]]

3- Fulgrim - He is part Coral Beauty Angelfish, and has a beautiful purple tail that fades into a vibrant yellow color. Coral beauties (at least according to the quick google search I did about them) are an incredibly hardy salt water fish, and known for their vibrant colorations.

4 - Perturabo - is part Cabezon - which are known for being Stubborn Bastard Fish who Refuse To Move until they get their next meal, willing to wait days and even weeks before they get their next meal. Which is often other fish, which I feel fits Peter turbo pretty well. He has a pleated tail and fins that are a mottled steel and black color, with the occasional yellow stripe.

5 - Jaghatai - is part Sailfish - which are allegedly one of the fastest fish in the world IRL. He has a bright white tail with red stripes. His fins are also white with red stripes.

6 - Leman - is part Piranha. Not only are Piranhas highly predatory, they also are species of fish that school together. Like how Space Wolves almost always stick together in packs. Also, he still has fangs in this AU. His tail and fins are a lovely slate grey color with an iridescent shine to them.

7 - Rogal - part greenland shark! Cold adapted predator of the sea. Doesn't look like much but is an apex predator in the seas it lives in. He has gorgeous golden fins and tails with black spots.

8 - Konrad - part goblin shark. I didn't pick it just because of the name, but because it is a deep water shark (lives in darkness, just like a certain edgy primarch) that is rarely seen by humans. And. Well. Most humans who saw Konrad didn't exactly live to tell about it, did they? He has a deep blue tail and fins that are surprisingly slender. But powerful and he has a hell of a bite and many, many pointy teeth.

9 - Sanguinius - He has a beautiful silver tail and fin-like wings, as his mer-half is flying fish! Although I was super tempted to make him part-lamprey because of the blood-sucking aspect of him.

10 -  Ferrus - as per the suggestions of @angronsjewelbeetle @c-u-c-koo-4-40k and @i-am-a-dragon34 Ferrus is now part Dunkleostous, with dark grey fins and tail on his dorsal side and a silvery ventral side.

11 - ?? [REDACTED BY THE ORDER OF THE EMPEROR]

12 - Angron - part betta fish. He has striking red and gold fins and tail and will square the fuck up if the mood strikes.

13 - Roboute - there is a big temptation to go for the Ultramarlin pun, but I won't give in. What I am going with is part Ribbon Eel, as they have this really lovely blue body with bright yellow dorsal and ventral stripes that go all the way down their bodies. That and G-Man having a long tail to thwap his brothers with makes me giggle.

14 - Mortarion - part pufferfish. Prickly, defensive and poisonous. Can and will puff up. Has grey fins and tail with dark green spots. Spiny.

15 - Magnus: I am torn between making him part carp - because of the Japanese (I think?) myth about a carp jumping up a waterfall in order to become a dragon - which hints at Magnus' incredibly powerful warp abilities or an Abtu, which is a mythical ancient Egyptian fish, because Space Egypt. Thoughts? Opinions?

16 - Horus: Is part dolphin. Known for being very charismatic and charming, but can and will bully other kinds of sea life. Baby-Horus has a deep green tail with gold markings.

17 - Lorgar - I love the Parrot Fish pun suggestion by @c-u-c-koo-4-40k so that is what I am going with. His fins and tail are a deep red color with a silver shimmer to them.

18 - Vulcan - another excellent suggestion by @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for making one of the primarchs part barracuda! I have decided on Vulcan, rather than Magnus. Vulcan’s dorsal fins and tail are a deep green color, the ventral side is black. Along the middle where the two colors meet, he had gold spots.

19 - Corvus: Part of me wants to make Corvus either some kind of shark, or angler fish bc of his whole "sworn vengeance and eternally hunting after Lorgar post-heresy" thing but. Big E is also a being who loves himself some aesthetics and I don't think a part-angler fish boy would fit that. Perhaps part black-tipped shark bc of their stealthiness. Thoughts?

20 - Alpharius and Omegon: are color-pallet changed blue-ring octopi. Instead of a yellow body with bright blue rings, they have vibrant teal tentacles with bright silver ring-patterns across their tentacles and up the fishy parts of their bodies.

@egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel

[avocadish0w0]

Related to the post about parrot fears:

Grian always tries to get home before dark. Of course there's the normal zombies and creepers to be worried about but something about the night is off putting. Things don't look the way they are and danger is harder to find. One night as he's sailing over the forest, something shoots him down. He tries desperately to stay in the air but his wings are growing tired and he's starting to loose altitude. Eventually he bites the bullet and lands, in the middle of a dark oak forest with leaves so thick they blot out the sky. He's frozen, he doesn't know what to do, the darkness is closing in on him, his wings ache and he swore he heard a twig snap. He screams but no one hears him, except for whatever shot him down. ~ 🌟

That is extremely well written, thanks for the ask..... Star anon? Did I get it right?

(This prompt is old, I completely forgot about that it was sitting on my drafts so I finally decided to finish it)

TW: Blood, vomiting, panic attacks, sharp blades, Sam

(Plus some Dadsuma comfort because yes)

===============================

...His wings were aching, he held himself to keep the cold out, he couldn't fly, and his screams would just make the situation worse, he walked, careful not to step in a loose twig, he doesn't know where's the moon, the only thing that could guide him through the void of the endless night, only a few moonlight streaks were able to find their way through the thick leaves of the dense forest.

His mind could be playing tricks on him, but he swears he saw eyes glowing pure white, piercing through the pitch black forest, he walked towards the unknown, fearing his safety and sanity, he held the hem of his jumper ever now and then, crossing his arms, looking around, everything but staying quiet in his place, the white eyes were following him, he started to walk faster as the creature followed him right behind, running seemed like the best option, as he knew death was growing nearer, he couldn't hear the sounds around him, yet he didn't know if it was just his head playing games with him, or if the forest was making a minute of silence for his ever so near end, walking faster and faster, hearing the grass shuffling behind him. It was following him.

He started to run, not caring of he stepped on twigs, that snapped at the slightest touch. The blond avian stumbled on a big root, falling forwards and scraping his face and hands, mud staining his clothes, he looked up and back, supporting his weight on his elbows, his breathing quickened, scared and tired, the white eyes suddenly gained a voice alongside

"Well, well, well, long time no see, Taurtis"

A smirk glistened under a streak of moonlight, a pair of bunny ears appearing soon after, Grian could feel his heart dropping, he wanted to throw up, to scream and cry, but only one of those became true, he felt nauseous as he turned around, the food from earlier coming back, scratching his throat, he looked at the pool of vomit under him, stained with blood and glistening pieces of glass? No... Plastic, multiple sharp pieces of plastic tinted crimson, he reached to clean his mouth, only to be met with a blue sweater instead of his own, the weight of suspensories and headphones on his head made him panic

"Sam... no... This isn't real... It's not real... it's not, it's not, it's not it's-"

"It's very real, Taurtis, missed me?" The bunny boy raised a sword, tilting the avian's head to look at him with the sharp blade

"I'M NOT TAURTIS!! MY NAME'S-" before the boy could finish, the blade went straight through his throat, he could feel his vision fading black, his last sight being the symbol he always hated glistening purple above the boy in front of him, a distant, deep voice rang in his ears

"Always watching... Xelqua..."

===============================

He woke up breathing heavily, desperate, screaming in horror, his hands clutching his throat, suddenly, he felt as if the plastic shards were still there with his dinner, his head was spinning, there were people talking around him, but he couldn't concentrate on what they were saying.

He gripped his hair, unable to breathe, his lungs felt heavy, he wanted to feel something but everything was numb, he felt someone hold his hands, taking them gently out of his hair, the touch was cold, robotic even.

Grian looked up, seeing the warm, fatherly look on the admin's face made him feel safe, his name was still Grian...

Not Taurtis...

Not Xelqua...

Grian.

He was still himself...

Away from them

He hugged Xisuma as hard as possible, still sobbing, searching for any kind of hint that this might be an illusion or another dream, another nightmare, but found none, nothing other than the safety of his base and the warmth of the father figure hugging him back, the soft moonlight outside shone through the windows, casting a soft glow over the duo "Grian, is everything okay? Do you need to talk?" He heard X saying, his tone hushed and soft, as if any alteration would send the fragile avian on his arms to scatter away "I'm fine... Just a nightmare..." He pauses for a while "My name's still Grian right...? I'm still me... Right...?" He could feel the lump on his throat get bigger, his jaw hurting from holding back more tears, desperate for some sort of affirmation "Why? Of course you are! You're still the same pesky bird that loves pranking everyone, you're still our Grian, and as far as I know, your name never changed to Grain" the admin jokes softly, trying to lighten the mood

"Thanks dad..." The avian relaxes, letting the soft sounds of crackling from the torches lull him back to sleep on the admin's embrace

"Anytime G... Now rest... You're safe now... I'll never let anything happen to you, to any of the Hermits"

X's voice is the last thing he hears before falling asleep, without nightmare to haunt him, without them to hunt him

===============================

OH THIS TOOK ME SO LONG!

I finally found out more about Grian's lore (Still have no idea why Xelqua, but I know some of the lore of YHS because of FanFiction) and decided to add it here! Sorry for the angst and I actually really liked writing Dadsuma comfort!

Anygay, have a good day, night or evening wherever you are in the world and goood bye!

[chimivx]

ghosting ↠ txt

now playing ↠ light my love • greta van fleet

He left you with letters. Envelopes that took you five years to finally read, acknowledge. They take you back through your past, forcing you to make moves not only for yourself, but for your family, for your children… His children.

part three of six ~ masterlist

word count ↠ 2264 warnings ↠ (same for all parts) 18+. mentions of drugs, alcohol, smoking. swearing. explicit sexual content. these people have kids, there’s family talk, pregnancy talk. absent dad, messy family ties. stepsib shit, stepcest. infidelity. if any of these things bother you, please keep scrolling . if i missed anything PLEASE let me know!! a/n ↠ if you are new to this story, don't start here! please go to the masterlist! major thank you to everyone who's read this story. <3 xo posted ↠ 6/12/24 ~ midnight est.

~ september 2020 ~

Four tiny feet pitter pattered on the beige tiled floor behind you as you rounded the corner of the hall into the kitchen. Both in little blue tee’s and diapers, your twins clung to your tail, never letting you have a moment in peace. Now that they were completely mobile, always running instead of teetering everywhere, they were experts in hunting you down. The two were almost two, their birthday only a couple weeks away.

“Mama!” Chan shouted when you paused at the counter, the doors and drawers of the kitchen all made of a rosy toned wood with warm grey tops. “Mama, help!” His words were spoken half correctly.

“Help, help!” Sunoo watched his brother, his pudgy hands gripping the hem of his shirt. He looked up at you with his big brown eyes that had potential to melt you into the floor.

Peeking over your shoulder, giving them a sly smile, your fingers worked at the plastic bag you had slapped to the countertop. Both boys giggled, Chan gripping his cheeks as Sunoo tossed his hands in the air.

As they grew older, as they came into their own, it got easier to tell them apart. Identical in nearly every way, you and Soobin fought through some hard times within their first year of life. Sleepless nights of accidentally swapping them in their cribs, leading into exhausting days of putting the wrong onesie with the wrong name on the collar of the wrong kid… The day they turned eight months old the two of you had had enough and painted Chans middle finger red. 

Now that they were about to turn two, there wasn’t any nail polish needed. The twins took after you in many ways, but it was evident that Chan took after his father the older he grew. His features were softer, rounder. His chin came into the same perfect point, his cheeks and lips fuller than his brothers.

It wasn’t something you dwelled on, unless it was past midnight and you and Soobin were curled in the center of your bed beneath the warmth of the blankets where you’ve shed many tears. As much as they got from you, they got from him, and though Chan seemed to swipe his entire face, you’d have to one day deal with looking him in the eyes, everyday, for the rest of your life. 

That face looked up at you now, and though you were conditioned to yearn at this point, you were on an exciting mission, one your boys were going to help you with.

“You both get one, okay?” Pulling out two hamburger buns from the plastic bag, you handed one to each twin while they giggled and danced on their toes. They stared at the bun in awe, like they were awarded pure gold instead of just simply helping their mother, holding bread. “What are they?”

Sunoo glanced at you and held it up. “Bread!” His tiny shout couldn’t pronounce the R sound.

Chan eyed his brother, then laughed aloud. “Bread!” His shout was the same.

“It’s a bun,” you said with a smile, taking one out of the package for yourself. Two steps away was the oven, and sure enough the twins waddled behind you, watching everything you did laser focused. “Mama’s gonna put hers in here.” 

“Why?” Sunoo asked, pointing at the grey oven. “Mama, why?”

“Why?” Chan parroted, holding his hands out to the side in question. “Why, why?”

Sitting down on the floor, crossing your legs beneath you, the boys squatted next to you. “Because, we’re gonna surprise Daddy, okay?”

“Okay,” they both said, Chan staring at the bread.

“Bun,” he babbled quietly. “Bun, bun, bun.”

“Yes!” Half shouting, both boys jumped. “Oh, I’m sorry,” you laughed, pulling them both into your lap. Sunoo giggled, Chan tried to wriggle away. “Mama’s happy.” 

“Happy?” Sunoo’s little voice mumbled, relaxing back in your hold. His twin froze, then did the same, looking up at you in question. “Mama, happy.”

“Happy,” Chan said, neither twin able to pronounce the first letter yet.

Kissing them over their fuzzy hair that was barely long enough to do anything with, you sighed. “Mama’s so happy,” you said, then blinked a couple times. The unease in your gut, that was most likely simply nausea, rolled through you. This time was already much different than the last. “And nervous.”

“Why?” Chan asked, mumbling the word a few more times, turning the bread around in his fingers, inspecting it. The twins were barely two but had an excellent idea of how to keep conversation already, even if it wasn’t on purpose and just what they were used to hearing from their parents. Sunoo watched you, a calmness within him inspiring your own.

“I think because this time it’s…” You cut yourself short, not wanting to finish any thought that came to your mind. Looking down at your boys, at the two who changed your life forever, who have already taught you so much in their two short years of life, you didn’t mean anything you could say at the end of that thought. 

This time it was real? The babies sitting on your lap, gazing up at you like you’re their whole world were very much real. This time it’s because you’re doing it with a husband and not doing it alone? Soobin’s been around since the start, this time wouldn’t be any different. No thought made sense. There was no reason to be upset, no reason to feel lost. 

Beneath this roof, with these boys, all three of them, you were safe, you were loved, you were taken care of. Adding another little one to mix would be nothing short of incredible.

Amidst your inner turmoil and the boys sitting patiently on your lap, the front door popped open, sending the twins to their feet. Shouting different variations of the word Dada, or Daddy, their little feet took them flying around the corner and down the hall, leaving you behind with nerves shooting through every vein.

Soobin greeted the boys, his light hearted tone warming your heart. “What are you holding? Are you eating those?”

“Bun!” Chan shouted, and you giggled quietly, unmoving from the floor. Tucking your knees into your chest, you bit your bottom lip and waited.

“Yes, bun, good job,” Soobin said, then groaned as the boys laughed. Knowing he scooped them up in his arms, he’d definitely be headed this way. “Why do we have them, is Mama cooking?”

“Mama, hide,” Sunoo told him matter-of-factly. “Mama, bun, hide.”

Soobin made a sweet sound, encouraging them both to keep talking. “Mama has a bun, too? Did she hide it?” Their voices came closer, eventually turning the corner where Soobin spotted you on the floor, failing to hold back a smile. A smirk grew on his lips. “What’s going on?” All you could do was shrug. Chan whined, wiggling around, so Soobin set them both on the floor, stepping a bit closer to you. “Are you okay?” He dropped his chin a bit, a serious glimmer shooting across his expression.

“Yes,” you answered fast, nodding. Soobin nodded back, slowly, then lifted his eyes to the counter and the package of hamburger buns there. “Do you want one?” When he looked back at you, he laughed, utterly confused.

“What?” He reached down toward the boys who were waving their buns at him. “Buns, yes!” Crouching down to be the same height as the rest of his family, Soobin took the buns the boys offered him, then laughed. “What the heck is going on?”

Chan and Sunoo, stepping backward, both proud that Soobin had taken their offerings, had folded their hands over their chests, then looked at you. “Mama, bun, hide,” Sunoo said again, pointing at you.

“Is this a new kitchen game, or something?” Soobin asked, furrowing his brows. 

Shaking your head, you pressed your lips together. “Not a game.”

“Mama, bun, hiiide!” Sunoo drug out the words, bouncing on his knees.

Soobin shot him a wild look, and decided to finally play along. “Oh no! Where is it?” Chan laughed maniacally, then skipped toward the oven. Sunoo watched him, then followed, running to his brother's side, throwing his arms around his back. “Show me!”

Looking at you for approval, you bobbed your head. “Show Daddy, go ahead.”

“I swear, if this is some prank to scare me,” Soobin muttered, glancing at you.

A grin erupted over your face. If you had to pick your favorite thing you’ve learned about him over the years, it was how easily scareable he was. “I promise, it’s not.” You hoped. 

This had the potential to really scare him. 

Chan gently pushed his brother off of him, then pressed his face against the window on the front of the oven, his nose squishing against the glass. Sunoo copied him, taking up the space next to him. Soobin let out a soft laugh at their faces, then shook his head.

“Where is it at?” He sat on the floor and scooted closer to the boys, moving behind them. Taking them both by the waist, he pulled them onto his lap and side eyed you. The twins covered their cheeks and laughed, the sound echoing off the walls. Folding your hands together, the skin clammy, you squeezed your own fingers and gulped. “This game is… easy!” Soobin tickled the boys, one hand on each belly, and they giggled incessantly. “I’m going to win!”

“Daddy, win! Win!” Chan shouted, his high pitched voice making you laugh.

Soobin, shifting Sunoo into the middle of his lap, reached up for the handle on the oven and pulled it open, revealing the hamburger bun on the center grate. Gasping aloud, twins shouting with excitement, Soobins eyes squeezed shut with laughter. After a moment of the boys losing their minds, he gave you a look.

Heart rate skyrocketing, electricity buzzing beneath your skin, you couldn’t ease your smile. “What?” You asked in the quietest voice.

Soobin looked at the bun, then back at you. “What do I win?” The twins sat up in his arms, babbling nonsense to each other while watching their parents converse. “I found the bun.”

Your jaw dropped open. Taking a look at your masterpiece, an idea you stole from the internet, you huffed a laugh. “What is that?”

Soobin did a once over of the dormant oven. He shrugged. “A hamburger roll in the oven?”

“Bun!” Sunoo shouted before grabbing Chan's ankles, the two attempting to wrestle on their giant of a fathers lap. 

Soobin widened his eyes and smiled. “Bun, right, a hamburger bun in the oven, thank you, Sun.” Meeting your gaze, your half disappointed, half amused gaze, Soobin adjusted his posture, sitting up straight. “What?” He sighed, seemingly defeated. “A hamburger bun, that’s in the oven.”

Moving closer to him, you whispered, “Just a bun.” Sliding a hand over his thigh, dragging it over his pants and then around his back and up the back of his shirt, you smiled at his sudden flusteredness. “It’s just a bun, Soobin. Where is it?” His brows nestled in the center of his forehead, his eyes darting to your lips for a second. “In the oven,” he said, tone lower than ever before.

“Who’s oven?”

Hesitating, his booksmart brain doing the math, he whispered, “Our… oven.” The room grew quiet, the twins having resorted to chewing on their fingers or inspecting their little toes. Soobin blinked twice, thought to himself, then, all at once, the puzzle clicked. “Your’s, holy crap,” he whispered in a rush, spinning on his bottom to face you, the twins laughing as they moved with him. “Your oven, there’s a bun in… Oh my god?”

Leaning into him, over the twins, caging them beneath the two of you, you smiled. “We’re having a baby.” Tipping his head backward, eyes squeezing shut, he sighed. After a few moments of the boys patting him, asking him what was wrong, he took their hands to soothe them, then gazed at you with teary eyes. 

He couldn’t say much, you knew if he tried he’d cry. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a long one that triggered some tears anyway. Pulling away, touching your forehead to his, you drug your thumbs over his cheeks and whispered, “You’re gonna be a dad.”

Soobin’s face lit up for a moment, then pulled into a sure as ever smile as he cradled the twins. “I already am.”

10/7/2021

…At least that’s what Taehyun told me! That you love your new sister so much. Hard to believe you weren’t even three yet before she was here. I’m excited for you, to have a sister. I only grew up with a big brother. Now you guys are the big brothers! It’s your responsibility to protect her. She’s got a great dad, and we already know she’s got the best mom. That makes you guys the best big brothers. You’re getting older now, you’re becoming your own people, that’s… that’s so cool. I hope you guys are the coolest kids around. But, I also hope you guys are the happiest kids. When I see you, you’re laughing, and it’s the most amazing sound I’ve ever heard in my life. Still baffles me that you’re here, that you’re mine. I think about you everyday. I’m gonna get it straight at some point, I promise. I’m gonna do it for you. It’s gonna be okay, we’ll be okay. Hug her, love her, she deserves it…

☼ AO3 | wattpad | support | share with me ☼

thank you so much for reading. <3

[mymegrokosmos]

"You good?"

Your head whipped around at the voice, the laughter warm in every word. He was smiling when you craned your head from where you knelt, struggling with the zipper on your backpack, to look at him. Of course he was. Jeong Yunho, class clown and unofficial prince of your whole cohort.

You snorted, rolling your eyes at the pretty man fiddling with the strap of his bag. "I'm fine. You can check off your quota of helping out damsels in distress for the day and find someone else to fulfill that requirement."

His expression shuttered at your harsh tone. The deadpan way you parroted the words like you were reading them off a script while your fingers worked furiously in an attempt to charm the zip unstuck. It was silent for a minute and you almost thought he'd left, only you hadn't heard any footsteps.

He was still there when you glanced up again, chewing on the end of one of the strings hanging perfectly from the talisman of truth hanging off the shoulder strap of the beat up messenger bag he wore slung over one broad shoulder.

"Are you always this mean?"

You shrugged.

"I'd say I understand why you have no friends, only that isn't true. You always have those two wolves hanging all over you. Your pack maybe? That would explain why they put up with you."

You sighed.  "Do you always speak every thought you have out loud? It's rather annoying. I'm trying to focus."

Instead of leaving like you hoped, because why on earth would you ever be so lucky, he knelt beside you instead. Talisman forgotten completely as he ducked his head to get a better look at what you were doing. He nudged your hands aside and with a few deft movements of his own he had your stubborn zipper sliding back into place in no time.

"You didn't have to make that look so easy."

He wiggled long fingers in a way that sparked something familiar in your brain. You knew those gestures. Or, you should know them, anyway. You recognized a sigil of smoothing and a charm of repair. You sighed. Why did he have to be good at all the subjects you shared?

"Thanks."

You didn't spare the man another glance as you stood, swinging your newly functional again bag over one shoulder. He sprang back up to his full height with a grace you usually only saw in shifters and you remembered he was also an athlete. Of course there wasn't anything the golden boy of year 9 couldn't do.

You suppressed another roll of your eyes, just barely, and glanced over at your desk to make sure you'd gotten everything. It wouldn't do to leave any of your things behind, not here. It would be easy for any of your classmates to read too many secrets into any notes or objects they found lingering around. You couldn't have that.

You turned to leave, narrowly avoiding bumping right into Yunho's sweater clad chest. You put a hand out to stop yourself colliding with him, hand landing right on the soft cheery yellow fabric, and quickly pulled away at the little electric zap that followed. He frowned at you. You didn't stop to explain, just pushing past and angling your hip so no more of your body brushed against his as you hurried out of the room.

"I'm Yunho by the way. If you even care to know."

You threw the steely haired man a look that you hoped conveyed your disdain. Something you weren't entirely sure you were feeling but he didn't have to know that. The faux flame lighting crackling overhead along the lecture hall ceiling gave the silver of his hair a blue tone you found oddly appealing. You blinked those thoughts away and shook your head to clear it.

"I know who you are Jeong."

"Good, then can I call you by your first name next time we meet like this?"

"There won't be a next time."

You'd have to make sure of it. You couldn't afford friends. None besides the two you couldn't shake anyway. You really couldn't afford any distractions. Yunho was a very very big distraction in the making. You didn't give him time to get any more words in. This was the first, and last, conversation with Jeong Yunho you'd ever have.

Or so you told yourself.

[cyncerity]

pirate Quackity my beloved! Anything you want to share abt him?

see i was gonna post a little blurb about Q’s backstory, but i have no self control, so you get an entire half-story-half-ramble about pumpkin duo since their backstories are very intertwined. it’s very long and i apologize in advance.

tw: minor character death, torture, slavery, discrimination

Quackity left his home in the trees of the forest he was born in at a young age. He had his flock, but he wasn’t particularly close with any of them, and he dreamed of bigger things than spending his life hiding from the society humans had built. He wasn’t stupid, he knew how dangerous those creatures were, what they would do to him, but he was 16 with stars in his eyes and he felt indestructible.

He traveled for a few months, never settling. He loved to move, to adventure. He thought he’d never be caught, but it all had to go wrong eventually.

When he was 17 he landed in a port town with a strong hatred of hybrids like him. He didn’t plan to stay for long, he was smart enough to know when staying in a certain place was too big a risk, but there was a storm coming so he decided to hide for the night in the nearest shelter he could.

he’d regret that decision for the next 3 years.

the owner of the building, a vile and greedy man, found him in the rafters. Quackity was scared, angry, and confused as to why he would even have been looking in the rafters when the man burst into a hidden room of the house and Quackity learned the horrible, horrible truth.

Lining the walls, stacked to the ceilings and in piles all over the ground, were dozens and dozens of avians in cages. All with clipped wings, some looking more scorned than others, some chirping pitifully and others completely silent. Quackity went off. He screamed and cursed as his belongings were taken, his limbs bound and he was shoved against the ground as his wings were clipped against his will and he was thrown in a cage.

Over the next 2 years, he learned a lot. This man he’d been taken by not only kidnapped avians, but bred them, forcing his captives to procreate against their wills in order to breed obedient avians. Avians that were raised as birds, as animals. They couldn’t even speak, only chirp and chitter, completely uninterested in anything their fellow avians tried to teach them about their culture and only excited when the man or his lackies came in to feed them. Quackity could see the start of the lack of sapience behind their eyes.

He learned he was being kept here as storage for any “potential sales.” The man who took him sold avians as pets, servants, food, you name it. As long as he was paid, he didn’t care what happened to the hybrids. It was his job, though, to make sure all of his stock was well behaved. Quackity distinctly wasn’t.

Quackity was never silent. They rattled his cage, tore his feathers, broke his bones, but he refused to silence his voice. The man even paid about a dozen men to take care of the avians so he didn’t have to see them, but the man took care of Quackity himself most nights he was punished. Quackity could see how much his insubordination was grating on the man.

It was the start of the third year when everything changed.

One day the man came in earlier than he normally did with a tall, imposing man with a stare that could kill following behind him. The new man was built. Thick arms, facial hair, and a massive beanie over his head. He could kill any one of these birds in a moment if he wished to. The man brought the supposed new hire to the cages, and told him about a “specific bird who’s too much a pain in my ass to deal with anymore who I woulda sold or killed by now if his species weren’t so rare in these parts. He can make us a pretty penny if you can get him to behave.” Quackity felt scared in that moment. The idea that the only reason his life was being spared was his species, a blue backed yellow parrot, and this new lacky had been hired specifically for him. He had no other duties than to train Quackity like a dog. He wouldn’t be able to speak to the other avians anymore when there were no humans around. But he wouldn’t give up hope.

The man handed Quackity’s cage over to the lacky and instructed that he be kept in his room so he “wasn’t a bad influence on the rest of the stock.” Quackity screamed and cursed the whole way to the room, only shutting up when the man unlocked his cage and grabbed him with a tight fist, knocking all the air out of him. He was roughly handed over to the new hire and the door was closed, leaving them alone.

Quackity was prepared for anything, in that moment. To be hit. Thrown. Killed, even. He waited for the shoe to drop (perhaps literally), and it took a long time. He carefully looked up to the man who held him in now open palms and saw some unreadable emotion forming behind his eyes.

Quackity was prepared for anything, except maybe what happened next.

The new guy’s eyes started to water. He set Quackity gently, so gently, gentler than he’d been handled in years. “Oh gods…” he heard the man mutter, the first words he’d said all day. He rummaged through a nearby drawer and found a first aid kit, pulling out a small splash health pot, disinfect, a roll of bandages, and scissors that he used to carefully cut the bandage into smaller strips. “Would you mind…?” the man whispered, gesturing to Quackity’s rapidly bruising chest. Quackity, too stunned to deny, lifted his arms and wings for the man to get easier access to his chest, which caused the stranger to suck in a gasp. Quackity looked to where his eyes went, and saw that they landed on his wings. His clipped, scarred, and battered wings. The human reached for them, but pulled his hand back before Quackity even had a chance to flinch. He simply poured a little bit of the health pot on his finger and carefully brushed it over Quackity’s chest, the bruises tingling and dissipating quickly. Quackity could feel the sincerity in his touch, the care behind it. Quackity felt his own eyes start to water. The man continued to try and fix him up, healing the rest of his bruises and bandaging what he could.

No words were shared between them. The human couldn’t be trusted, Quackity knew that. He was hired by the horrible, horrible man to train him to be a perfect little bird. But…he was tired. He hadn’t been touched in so long, it was nice to not be scared. This human hadn’t hurt him. Quackity didn’t have faith that he wouldn’t in the future, he didn’t trust the man, but he decided to take advantage of the situation while he could.

After the stranger finished a bandage on his arm, he pulled away and turned his back to the human. He bowed his head, eyes closed and praying, and spread his wings behind him, an open invitation. There was no immediate response, but slowly, so careful it made his heart hurt, he felt a finger trace down his wings. A shiver went down his spine, his muscles relaxing despite himself. Very gently, and didn’t that seem to be a theme with this giant, he felt an old feather be plucked from his back then fall away. He stayed like that, eyes still closed and head still bowed, for what felt like hours as this stranger took his sweet time making sure every feather on his wings was healthy, never pulling too hard for anything but the old dead ones to fall. Eventually, the giant broke the silence. “Thank you.” he said. Quackity didn’t respond, but raised his head in response. The giant took this as que to continue. “I know how important your wings are to you, as an avian. I know that you feel like your autonomy has been taken. I understand, on some level. I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but I’m sorry. If you’re letting a stranger work on your wings, especially a stranger like me, then I’m sure you’ve been through hell. Thank you, though, for letting me help you with something so intamately personal. I hope you let me keep helping you.” With that, he smoothed the wings down a final time, and Quackity felt that they were perfect, cleaner than they had been since he left home.

That broke Quackity. He sobbed quietly, still refusing to face the human. “My boss called you ‘parrot.’ What’s your name, really?” “You say you understand on a level.” Quackity said, his first words directed at the man all day pointedly ignoring the question he asked. “You don’t. Don’t you dare compare your experience with everything i’ve been put through here.” “I may understand more than you think.” Quackity, utterly enraged that this human have the gall to believe he had any idea how the avian felt, finally turned to look at the man.

The first thing he noticed was that his hat was off. The second was that the man was distinctly not human.

Looking at the man’s forehead he could see the remnants of large horns, and on the sides of his head were ears that had likely once been longer before being cut. Taking these things in mind, he took a longer look at the man’s face and realized that through the golden sunset light casting on his face through a window, lightening his dark brown eyes, his pupils were horizontal. “Ram.” the huma- no, hybrid, supplemented before pulling the beanie back on. “I get what it’s like to feel unsafe. Us hybrids have to be in this together.” Quackity sat silently, staring stupidly at the spot where the now covered horns were before. He introduced himself. The ram smiled back and did the same.

Quackity had met his savior in Schlatt. A fellow hybrid, Schlatt had spent his time “teaching the avian to behave” actually getting to know Quackity and appreciate his company. Quackity taught Schlatt everything that had happened in the years he’d been there, and Schlatt was horrified. Apparently he’d taken the job because it was under the table and a lot of money. He’d had some not-so-legal business ventures in the past, and a past employer recommended him to the avian thief who had kidnapped Quackity oh so long ago. Plus with his hybrid origin, he preferred to stay out of the public eyes as much as possible. He never expected to find anything like this. Quackity, in turn, learned about the world outside his prison. Apparently hybrids were legally less than people on this island, which sucked, but it was still illegal to be treating them like this. Along with finally treating Quackity like a person, Schlatt helped him achieve something he never thought he’d have again: flight. Re-learning how to fly, especially since his wings weren’t fully healed, was frustrating at best and dangerous at worst. Quackity jumped and fell more often than flew, but Schlatt caught him every time. The two grew closer as their hatred for the man who controlled them both grew more and more everyday, until they finally devised a plan.

It was a cold, dark morning when the man who’d for too long been freely torturing avians had died. Schlatt had taken note of where he kept his pistols long ago, and knew where he slept. If anyone heard the gunshot in the too early hours of the day, then no one cared about the man enough to check on him. Quackity, at the same time, had a list of keys that he and Schlatt had made over the span of a year. Quackity and Schlatt had taken careful count of what keys were used on what avians to open their cages for feeding, and had committed all the numbers to a single sheet of paper. Before Schlatt had gone to the man’s room that night, he had managed to snag the key ring from a fellow employee.

Quackity returned to the cage room and flew to each cage with the key, freeing his fellow avians and encouraging them to help him when they were out. Schlatt came back to help soon after, and soon everyone was freed. Schlatt and Quackity left together, not having formally spoken about staying together as a team after the fact, but neither felt the need to separate after it was all said and done. After all, they didn’t have anyone else. Quackity left his flock, and while Schlatt had a twin sister once upon a time, they were separated as children and sold off into different hybrid trades that Schlatt had to cut his own horns and ears off to get out of. He never saw her again, choosing to live as a human. He hoped that she was ok, wherever she ended up. For the while, Quackity and Schlatt had enough money from Schlatt’s job working there and some extra that he stole from the boss that they could charter a ship away. Finally, they could move on.

Except nothing could ever be simple, could it?

Schlatt found himself in chains the next morning, violently ripped out of the little inn he and Quackity were staying in for the night before they were set to sail off the next morning. Someone had seen the avian prison riot and Schlatt leave with them as the only human. The only one capable of operating a pistol. When they went to tell the boss, they found his body and had quickly figured out that the one missing employee was the one responsible. And in barging in, they had seen Schlatt without his hat on. A hybrid. A monster who had killed a human man.

He hadn’t stood a chance.

If there was one thing luck spared them, it was that Quackity was out of sight. When Schlatt was dragged away, Quackity followed a ways behind and eventually managed to catch up with Schlatt through the bars of a cell window. Schlatt gave him the news that he’d be headed to the gallows at sunrise in a few hours. Quackity said he would fix it. Schlatt believed as best he could, but still gave his best friend a tearful goodbye. Q refused to allow himself to give one back, only promising he’d return before flying off to find help.

Quackity was panicked. He was just an avian, Schlatt and him were just animals to these people, he had no way to get them on his side. And even if someone would hear him out to help, their money had been taken by the men who arrested his best friend, so he had no bribery. He was about to lose hope before he spotted something he never thought he’d see on the island: a man with a tail loading crates onto a ship. The man was strong, handsome, and so, so clearly a hybrid. His skin was grey and gritty in patches, his teeth deadly sharp, and had what looked to be a shark tail. Though the look of such an obvious predator frightened Quackity on an instinctual level, the thought of watching the one person he’d cared about in years be hanged in front of him was about one hundred times scarier.

He flew over and demanded the man’s attention, begging him to help a fellow hybrid in need. To his shock and delight, the larger hybrid set the crate down and devoted his full attention to what Quackity was saying. Quackity begged with all he had, offering anything he could. Remembering what the boss had said about his worth, he even offered himself. If giving his freedom back over to someone else and being sold for their fortune was enough to save Schlatt’s life, he’d go through that caged hell all over again, and then all over again after that for good measure. He couldn’t let his best friend die because he’d fought for his freedom.

The hybrid said that wouldn’t be necessary, and he knew people who’d help. He introduced himself as Foolish, a crew member on the ship he was restocking, and brought Quackity over to a sheep hybrid and a freakishly tall human man. At least, he initially thought he was human. But when he laughed to his companion, he had the same pointy grin as Foolish, and Q noted fin like ears hidden behind long black messily braided hair. The probably-some-type-of-mer man and the woman with split colored hair and long spiraled horns were talking and laughing before noticing their presence. Foolish introduced them as Puffy and Bad, the captain and first mate respectively. Quackity gave them a shortened version of his plea and both of them were on board immediately, even before Quackity finished begging, drawing the rest of the crew to the dock to fight with them. Quackity could have cried in relief.

They all made it to the gallows with little time to spare. The rope was already around Schlatt’s throat, a man in front of him speaking to the crowd on how a simple animal had taken the lives of one of their own before the wooden beam holding the rope spluttered into pieces with a loud bang and snap, dropping Schlatt unharmed to the ground of the stage. Everyone in the crowd, Schlatt and the speaker included, looked back to find the unruly band of pirates at the back of the crowd, one holding a smoking double barrel shotgun, and now plus one avian. And from the looks of the people, they seemed to know these pirates and not be to fond of them, especially since the man in front of Schlatt started cursing out Bad by name.

Bad tried to chastise the man, but Puffy stepped forward, surprising him into silence. She didn’t say a word, just kept her eyes trained on Schlatt, who Quackity realized was doing the same. She calmly walked to the stage, likely not being stopped by any townsfolk due to her two drawn and slightly bloodstained swords. When she got to the stage, she just stopped, staring Schlatt in the eye for a moment before seemingly making her decision. She sheathed her swords and climbed up on stage, wordlessly hugging the other ram. Schlatt was frozen for a moment before he began to sob quietly into her shoulder and tightly hug her back, and though they couldn’t see Puffy’s face, the sputtering of her chest seemed to indicate she was doing the same. The crowd was frozen, too stunned to move…until one of Puffy’s arms released its hold on Schlatt and soundlessly drew a pistol from her coat, shooting the announcer point blank in the forehead without even looking up. The crowd panicked, and the guards who were there quickly fought back, but were quickly either injured or struck down by the pirates as Puffy dragged Schlatt back to the crew and they all made their escape.

Schlatt and Quackity reunited, both happy the other was safe, and Puffy was able to introduce Schlatt to the rest of her crew: this was her long lost twin brother. It was complete luck that Quackity went to one of her crew mates for help, and now she has her only family back. She invited both Quackity and Schlatt to stay on the ship indefinitely, to join them on the ship not just as charter passengers, but permanent crew members. Quackity could see how eagerly Schlatt wanted this, but he looked to Quackity for confirmation. Q scanned the faces. Bad’s kind smile, Puffy’s fearless confidence, Foolish’s radiance of positivity, a man in green with glasses that just looked happy to be there, a taller man with pink hair and gold accents (the one who had shot Schlatt down from the pole), a pixie that hung around Bad’s shoulders at all times, and more. He found that he wanted to know these people more. With that, the two boarded the ship, quickly being welcomed in with open arms by the crew, and finally having found the means to escape.

[ddejavvu]

hi miss mei! happy mvm <3

may I please request the parents at indi's school fawnin over him as a kindergarten teacher? maybe single parent! reader catches his eye :D at a parent-teacher meeting.

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

hi lover!! this ran away from me and it's not either of your prompts but it's kindergarten teacher!indy!! i hope that's okay 😅

--

"No, Miguel, you can't-" Indiana's words fall on tiny, deaf ears as Miguel climbs the ladder regardless of his wet hands, slipping only three rungs down from the top of the play structure.

He falls fast, but Indiana moves faster, almost too fast for you to see as he throws his hands out to catch the kindergartener. Miguel lands safely in his arms, grinning up at his teacher completely unphased as you pull open the gate to the kindergartener's playground and step inside.

"You can't climb with wet hands," Indiana finishes his thought, smiling tensely at the boy, "You know that."

"I wanted to try," Miguel whines, "It was fun! My tummy felt funny when I fell."

"Well it won't feel funny when you land on your butt," You pipe up, keys in your hand as you narrow your eyes at your nephew despite the grin on your lips, "Why don't you thank your teacher for helping you?"

"Auntie!" Miguel shouts, writhing in Indiana's hold to drop to the ground. He offers the man a quick 'thank you Mr. Jones!' before racing to you, begging to be held in your arms instead.

"Hi, buddy," You grin, lifting the growing boy off of the pavement, "Ooh, you're getting pretty big."

Miguel looks pleased with your observation, like it's been a personal project of his. You turn your attention to his teacher who's watching you with a smile, eyes holding your own with an intrigued gaze.

"I'm Y/N," You introduce yourself, "Miguel's aunt. I'm on the release form, his mom is staying late at work today. The front office cleared me." You show off a badge that says 'visitor' on it in big blue letters, stuck to the front of your shirt.

"Indiana," The man sticks a hand out, and Miguel's face wrinkles.

"Indiana," He parrots, "Like where Mommy's friend is from?"

"That's India," You correct the boy, laughing good-naturedly with Indiana as you shake his hand, "Mommy's friend is from India."

"I didn't know your name was India," Miguel stares skeptically at his teacher, who doesn't bother correcting the boy.

"That's because you have to call me Mr. Jones," He raises a brow at Miguel, ignoring the way a little blonde girl bumps into the back of his leg while she's running from her friend, "Because you're my student. But your aunt isn't, so she gets to call me Indiana."

"Okay," Your nephew decides, though you're sure he'll solely refer to his teacher as Indiana now. He turns to you, dark hair mussed from his time on the playground, "Auntie, I have to get my backpack."

"Okay baby," You set Miguel down, patting him on the back, "Go get it, but come right back, okay?"

"I didn't know you were Miguel's aunt," Indiana muses, and your attention is back on him. Now that you're not occupied with your nephew, you let yourself assess the man properly, and you find that his face is strikingly handsome, especially when his pretty eyes are cast upon you.

"I've never picked him up before," You grin sheepishly, "Usually it's his parents, yeah?"

"Mhm." Mr. Jones nods, glancing down at a dark-haired girl that tugs at his pants, "What, honey?"

She's silent as she brandishes an unopened bag of mini oreos, and he pulls the foil sides apart to open the treat, "There, now go sit at the tables, okay? No food in the grass."

She does as she's told, plopping back down in her seat in front of a butterfly-shaped lunch box.

Miguel's done exactly what you'd warned him not to do, and he's talking to his friends, no doubt discussing a bug they've found or bragging about the dollar he'd gotten from the tooth fairy the night before. You aren't upset, though, because it means you have more time to bask in Mr. Jones's piercing stare as he turns back to you.

"So, is this gonna be a regular thing?" He asks, a deep drawl to his voice, "You picking him up, I mean."

"Probably not," You lament, "His mom just had to take some overtime today, and his dad is out of town for the day."

"That's a shame," Indiana muses, "Y'know, I saw you at the supermarket on Saturday, but I thought cornering you in the produce section might not come off great. Here I thought we'd have a chance to talk."

Your spine stiffens slightly at the knowledge that what must be the most handsome man you'd ever seen has set his sights set on you, and you clear your throat, "Really?"

"Yeah." He grins, leaning back on one of the tables, "I thought we'd have easier conversation here. Chatting about macaroni brands isn't exactly riveting, is it?"

"If I came to pick up Miguel on Thursday..." You trail off inquisitively, and Indiana's smirk grows.

"I'd be here. I swap with another teacher Mondays and Wednesdays," He informs you, "But next week is different. I think I should send you the schedule, just to make sure you have the dates right."

"863-" You're already reciting your number before he's pulled out his phone, and you share a chuckle at the quick flow of the conversation.

"Auntie!" Miguel returns just as Indiana's pocketing his phone again, a wink thrown your way, "Look! A cricket!"

"Oh," Your eyes widen at the bug in your nephew's hands, "Uh, can you leave him here? He's not allowed in my car."

"Okay," Miguel concedes drearily, but he drops the cricket in the grass without complaint, "Bye cricket!"

"Bye cricket," You repeat, much more apprehensively, "Okay, buddy, you ready to go?"

Miguel takes your hand to drag you to the gate, and you're the one that turns to say goodbye to his teacher.

"Goodbye Indiana," You call, and the man waves with that charming smile of his, "See you Thursday!"