#flocking moss

[ehveerivv]

All of the above

@thorne-5658

INGESTED not just chewed on to clarify lol. based on real responses from my groupchat

[muchmossymess]

hmmm thinking about what would have happened if Father had gone after lan fan and her philosophers stone rather than greedling

[mspaint-clintmoss]

[click on images for a better viewing experience.]

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Sleeping on the job?

[Ask box open. See intro post for rules.]

[sheltiechicago]

“Mossgirl with Feathers” (2016), ceramics, nylon fiber, epoxy resin, feathers, and rope.

Mossy Figures Wander Through Woodlands and City Streets in Kim Simonsson’s Flocked Ceramic Sculptures

Some of the most exciting artistic discoveries are the results of accidents or the surprising outcomes of experiments, and artist Kim Simonsson’s series Moss People is the result of one such unexpected twist. Coated with soft flocking—a process of applying very fine fiber to the surface of an object—the large-scale ceramic sculptures were initially layered only with velvety black until a few years ago, when one day, the Finnish sculptor decided to flock one of those pieces with yellow, too. Once the crushed nylon fiber was applied over the black, it turned green, and the verdant figures have since grown into a cornerstone of his practice.

All images © Kim Simonsson, shared with permission. Photos by Jefunne Gimpel

“Mossboy” (2016), ceramics, nylon fiber, epoxy resin, feathers, and rope

“Hiding Place” (2022), ceramics, nylon fiber, and epoxy resin

“Mossboy With Rock” (2017), ceramics, nylon fiber, epoxy resin, and textile

“Moss Princess” (2019), ceramics, nylon fiber, epoxy resin, and chain

[twonutsinatrenchcoat]

Oh Look

It’s the whomping willow

But like..a cake

Yeehaw motherfuckers

I’m actually really happy with how it turned out, it was my first time using modeling chocolate and now I’m kinda obsessed

Hope it’s edible, everything in it should be

[mellifexfarm]

News

My flock has contracted Marek's Disease.

Since 2019, after I brought home Lyra and Wren, my flock has been a closed flock. Meaning I take biosecurity very seriously, and opted to not bring any new chickens in or allow other poultry-keepers access to the yard where they are kept. The only birds that were added from 2019 until now have been from hatching eggs. There are a select few diseases that can pass from mother to egg, but not Marek's.

But within the past few weeks one chicken displayed symptoms of leg weakness and became unable to walk. I brought them indoors and started treating for vitamin deficiency, since that is by far the most common cause of sudden lameness in poultry. But she didn't get better, and then Lyra started walking unsteadily, and I knew something else was wrong. I suspected something was wrong with my feed and sent off a sample to get tested for mycotoxins, and switched feeds, because I know a lot of people have had issues with that lately. But then one morning I found Moss deceased in the coop, and it all kind of went downhill from there.

Sebrights are known for having extremely low resistance to disease. They are very inbred. It is the reason I lost Kip to fowl pox when everyone else recovered fine. And why all but one (her unnamed cockerel "emo" son) of the members of my flock who are descended from Lyra are affected. But none of the other tiny breeds I have, Seramas or Kikirkis, are known for being particularly disease resistant either. So. I am extremely cautious at jumping the gun and saying they wont be effected.

I sent off Moss's body for a necropsy on monday and got the results today, September 29th.

I do not know how this got into my flock. Our nextdoor neighbor got chickens a few months ago, but our birds don't have any direct contact. That is the only way I can think of.

There is a vaccine but it can only be administered to day old chicks. Vaccinating to prevent this was not an option.

It generally takes 4-10 weeks for the disease to develop after the chicken has been exposed, so it had to have been fairly recent. My flock has not been carrying this sub-clinically.

I genuinely don't know how this is going to go from here. There is no treatment for marek's disease. It is a virus. I have ordered a few herbal remedies with vague studies to back up some kind of efficacy helping reduce the damage the virus does and boost their immunity, but its mostly a crapshoot. The only good news I have with all this is that older birds are somewhat less likely to succumb to this disease. And the fact turkies and pigeons can't contract it.

The only birds displaying symptoms right now are Lyra, and Moss's unnamed pullet daughter.

Lyra is tentatively okay. I have crafted a sling for her, and she has been increasing in mobility over the last few days. She did not ever have full paralysis, so I am hopeful. Her daughter and Mouse, one of the younger keep-back pullets from this summers chicks, are the only casualties so far.

I'll be doing all that I can in terms of supportive care, but if any symptomatic birds get to the point I don't think they will recover from I will be euthanizing them. I will not be selling chickens anymore.

This disease has been a nightmare of mine for such a long time and now it is really happening. I am pretty crushed.

[definitelynotabirthblog]

A Church Birth

Word count: 2800

Summary: a homeless young woman gives birth in a church on a cold night with the help of a vicar

TW: mention of bowels opening in the context of childbirth. Otherwise a bog standard if inconvenient birth fic.

---------------

Reverend Thomas Callahan tipped the electric kettle and poured boiling water over his teabag. As he stirred the steaming, amber liquid, the metal teaspoon clinking on the side of ceramic mug, he gazed out of the window in the small kitchen attached to his church, St Barnabas. It was November 5th and winter had ushered itself in rather prematurely in Reverand Callahan's opinion. Just two weeks ago, the village had been enjoying the last lingering rays of an Indian summer. Yet today, though it was barely 5pm, the milky glow of the moon had crept over the village as dusk fell, casting pointed, angular shadows of gravestones over the churchyard. A cold breeze picked up dead yew leaves and made them pirouhette beneath the window pane. Grey clouds scudded across the bleak sky, warning of the imminent storm. The reverend poured milk into his tea and lifted the mug to his lips, watching the wind drive the thick flurries of snow diagonally. As he sipped, a particularly strong gust forced the back door of the church open with a bang. He sighed.

Cupping his mug in his hands for warmth, he made his way to the door. He used his entire body weight to force the door shut, twisting the lock after.

"Lord, keep us safe tonight," he murmured, clutching his tea. He stared at his alter, his thoughts swimming.

He was a young vicar and St Barnabas was his first parish, its village his first flock. More than half of local residents attended services on Sunday's - most out of obligation than devotion to the Lord, he had concluded - but few reached out to him for guidance and prayer between services. Privileged enough to be privately educated by wealthy parents, he was painfully aware of his naivety, and had hoped that being posted to a poorer, rural community would provide him with the experience needed to advise and councel. He had come to understand that he was regarded with a mixture of amusement, novelty and affection - but not respect. He had not earned those stripes yet.

Physically he supposed that he was handsome enough. He had a head of thick, mocha-coloured hair, olive eyes framed with perfectly symmetrical eyelashes and peach-coloured skin. His lips were soft and pink, his front teeth crooked, but he was blessed with a warm smile that made his eyes shine. At six foot one inch he was tall, healthy man, muscular without being ripped, with a small, stubborn podge of stomach fat. He hadn't been oblivious to the occasional attractive young women taking a second yearning glance at him when he had explored the local towns, but his cluelessness at navigating such situations prevented him from pursuing them. As he walked away, frustration simmering inside him, he would often feel the aching throb of an erection tenting in his trousers.

A rap at the front door stole his attention from his reverie. He set his mug down and strode along the pews, shoes squeaking in the otherwise silent building. The night had drawn in now. Who could possibly still need the sanctuary of his church?

Thomas opened the door and peered out. The flurries he had noticed in the kitchen were now falling at blizzard speed as an inch-thick layer blanketed the churchyard, the wall and the lane beyond. Pinpricks of orange light in houses across the snow-covered village green sparkled, but the temperature outside was now close to freezing. His breath was visible in thick white puffs as he took in the sight before him.

A young woman. Her face was so pale it looked translucent, with fearful blue eyes and teeth chattering in the icy air. Her knotted blond hair cascaded around her shoulders which were covered in a shapeless coat the exact colour of moss. She wore thin leggings on her legs and a dirty pair of boots which looked like that they had trekked through mud. Thomas recognised her - she had been loitering outside the church after the previous two Sunday services but had darted away the second he tried to approach her.

"Can I help you?" he enquired, first looking past her to check she was alone, and then looking directly into her scared eyes.

She nodded and tried to talk, but either due to the cold or nerves, she was unable to speak, her mouth forming the shape of a word but without sound.

"It's too cold to dither out here," he said, assessing the situation. "Would you like to come in? Then maybe I can help?"

She nodded. He opened the door wider and she bowed her head before scurrying past him like a frightened mouse.

When they were safely inside, Thomas turned and looked at the young lady. She was young, barely out of her teens, and very petite in stature. Her scruffy clothes had a musty smell and were torn in places as though had been living rough. The hollowness of her cheeks, her pale face and her wet hair gave her the look of a drowned person. As the warmth of the church hit her, any remaining stamina she had was lost as she staggered, fell against the wall and slipped towards the ground. Thomas caught her frail body in his arms by reflex and supported her the last few inches towards the floor. He knelt down beside her.

"What's your name?" he asked kindly.

"Willow," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Do you think you could stand up again, Willow? You can come and warm up and then maybe I can call someone for you."

Willow opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, her face contorted and she cried out in pain. Her hand instictively travelling to her abdomen which was protruding from her slender frame despite the oversized coat. Her tortured eyes locked onto his, pleading for help. Compassion flooded through him and he did not hesitate as he scooped her up, one arm supporting her skinny shoulders and the other under her knees. Breathing through his mouth as the smell of the motheaten coat wafted upwards towards his nostrils, he carried the sobbing girl down the aisle and into his office, gently lowering her on the sofa he normally reserved for comforting the bereaved. As her cries reduced to muffled whimpers, he sat down next to her and placed his left arm around her shoulders. Desperate for solace, she leant her body against him, and he found himself drawn into an awkward embrace with her, holding her close as he comforted her. Finally her breathing steadied.

"How can I help you, Willow?" His arm remained around her shoulders.

She looked up at him, frantically shaking her head, eyes begging him to understand.

"You're obviously scared and in pain... and not very well? Do you need to see a doctor?" he asked, concerned.

"I... I... maybe..." she said shakily, her head still pressed against his shoulder.

"Maybe?"

"I-I don't know..."

"Maybe if you told me what is wrong, I could help you decide if you need to see a doctor. But you just collapsed in my church. I think seeing a doctor would be a good plan." He looked at her unkempt appearance. "Where have you been staying?"

"Wherever I can."

"Wherever you can?"

She nodded.

"I'm very sorry to ask this but are you homeless?"

"Only for the last two months."

"Only? That's a very long time to be sleeping rough."

She shrugged.

"I'm in touch with a few local hostels. I could ring around and see if I can get you a bed for tonight."

"They won't take me."

"Why won't they?"

"Because... because..." She burst into fresh floods of tears. Within seconds, her cries turned into fresh bellows of pain as she rocked her hips back and forth. "Oh, please help me. It hurts, it HURTS!"

"Willow, please tell me-"

Another noise noise erupted from her, this time low and primal, not unlike a roar. Thomas watched as the pain seized her, calculating whether he should comfort her or call for help first. Her knuckles were white as she clenched the sofa, her agony clear in her eyes as she growled her way through whatever was causing her body such torment. Acknowledging that this was a medical emergency that he was unequipped to handle, he reached to his pocket for his phone. He sighed with exasperation as he saw he had no bars, the sigh turning into a panicked moan on noticing the red light on the router.

"I think I need to call for help," he decided, rubbing Willow's arm in an inadequete effort to offer reassurance. "But I have no signal and the WiFi is down. Probably because of the weather. It means I need to leave you but I'll be b-"

"NO! Please don't go!" she gasped, scrabbling for his hand. "Please, no! You can't leave me!"

As the pain ripped through her body, there was a audible pop, immediately followed by a squelch, as though someone had sat in a puddle of water. Willow immediately pulled her hand to her crotch, relief evident in her face as the pain began to ease once more. Thomas was very confused now. What was wrong with this lady, this scrawny, malnourished young thing sat in his office, who had collapsed in his church, was intermittently wracked with such intense pain it rendered her barely able to speak, seemingly had no one on this earth to help her and was allegedly homeless but not immediately requesting medical help?  He looked at her as she shut her eyes, taking whatever brief respite had come her way, the awkward curve of her abdomen distending under her coat. Suddenly he understood just what that audible pop and squelch of liquid was.

"Willow, are you pregnant?"

She gazed at him. "I know it's a sin vicar."

"Let's leave sin at the door for the moment. Is the baby coming?"

"I've been having bad pains all day and... and... I think something has just come out of me."

"I think it is just the fluid that cushions that baby. Do you understand why I'm going to have to leave you do get help?"

Another contraction reared itself before she could reply. Willow threw her head back, her face twisted as the spasms of her womb coasted across her body. The animalistic noises that erupted from her sounded more bovine than human. Thomas knew he needed to establish just how far away from delivering this child she was. As the contraction eased again, he took Willow's trembling hand in his.

"Willow, is the baby coming right now?" he asked, his eyes finding hers.

"It feels like something is coming out of me."

He sighed.

"Do you mind if I have a quick look at you... er, down below?" He blushed. "If the baby is coming now, I will have to catch it."

She hesitated and then nodded.

He knelt down on the floor and positioned himself so he was directly in front of her.

"Do you want to take you bottoms off for me?

Willow kicked off her dirty boots and then, in one slow awkward movement, slipped her leggings and drenched knickers over her skinny hips and past her knees. Thomas helped her pull them over her ankles and threw them on the sofa beside her. Instinctively, she opened her legs for him, showing her unshaved mons. She was positioned with her hips too far back to see anything more than the top half inch of her slit.

"Do you think you could shuffle forwards for me so you're perched towards the edge of the sofa?" he asked anxiously, gesturing for her to shuffle forwards.

She awkwardly scooted her bottom towards him and then reclined as best as she could.

"And maybe you could just lift your legs up for me?"

As she gripped the back of her thighs and pulled them towards her chest, finally exposing her pussy to him. Staring at the site displayed before him, his eyes took in her jewel-like clitoris nestled between her stubbled labia. Between them was her vaginal opening and peeking at him from underneath, her puckered rosebud. Unable to see anything that looked like a baby emerging, Thomas breathed a sigh of relief.

"Phew. Thankfully I can't see anything. So-"

Willow roared as a contraction hit, her breaths coming in shallow and ragged gasps. Her tender asshole bulged and her rectum emptied right there onto the edge of sofa. Her vulva bulged outwards as her labia started to separate. A dark, wet mass appeared just inside her vagina, fluid dribbling out from around it in rivulets onto Thomas's knees. Adrenalin surged through him as he realised there could be no leaving Willow to get help, as she was about to birth her baby right there into his arms. He looked around frantically for something clean to deliver the baby onto and quickly grabbed a couple of spare sweaters he had on top of his desk. As he eased one under Willow's buttocks, her breathing started to ease and the pain lessened once more.

"What do I do?" she trembled, panic welling over in her voice.

"I'm a vicar, Willow, not a midwife," he laughed nervously, looking up at her over her spasming belly.  "I think you need to keep doing what your body is telling you to do and I'll catch the baby when it comes."

"I need to push. I can't stop it."

"Then push, if that's what your body is telling you to do."

As though on cue, Willow started grunting her way through another contraction. Her pussy stretched more with each torturous push, until a dark, two inch portion of head was visible as the contraction peaked. When it eased off, the head slipped back inside, her inflamed lips closing over it. Willow threw her head back exhausted, but seconds later she was bellowing again as her baby appeared once more at her opening. Thomas wondered just how much stretching it could take as the now lemon-sized portion of head continued to be driven outwards. A memory of a film he saw came to him, where the birth attendant used gauze to support the woman as she pushed out the biggest part of her baby. He pressed the sweater he put under Willow against her perenium. She writhed and shrieked on the sofa as she neared a full crown, her legs flailing around Thomas's head.

"Oh, help me! Oh God in heaven!" she screamed, her panicked, frantic hand reaching between her legs for Thomas.

"Please, just breathe Willow," he said, pressing on her taint with one hand and taking her hand with his other. "The head's coming out now. I think this is the worst bit."

Willow panted, her swollen vulva circling her baby as she drove it out of her body. As the contraction peaked, the head teetered on the raw lips of her pussy before the pain eased again and her body pulled it back inside her canal. There it sat, just visible between her stinging labia.

"You were so close then," Thomas said, squeezing her hand. "One more push like that and I think the head will be out."

Gathering her strength again, Willow bore and pushed the infant out of her fatigued body once again. It popped out with a gushy splash, amniotic fluid and blood splattering the floor and pebbledashing her inner thighs. Thomas balanced the damp, slimy head in his hands, watching as the child's brow furrowed, its mouth opening in a silent cry. Gradually, it turned to Willow's thigh.

"The head's out. Push again."

With one last effort, a dribble of fluid and a groan, the wriggling baby tumbled into the world. Thomas caught its slippery body in his shaking hands and carefully lowered it onto his knee. A baby boy. He cried lustily, feeling the chilly air on his skin for the first time. Thomas wrapped the little boy in his sweater and looked up at Willow. Her entire body was shaking, her face shining with sweat.

"Willow... Willow, you've done it!" he gasped, gazing down at the newborn.

She gazed down at the vicar, whose eyes were meeting hers from between her legs and reached her arms out. As if he was handling the crown jewels, he carefully settled Willow's firstborn son on her breasts. Tears of relief and exhaustion leaked down her pretty pale face, her chest shaking with sobs as the baby was comforted by the warmth of her trembling body.

"Thank you," she whispered to Thomas, her lips brushing her baby's head.

"You did it all yourself, you wonderful girl," he replied, the emotion crackling in his voice. He gazed over at his desk and looked at the router, the green light shining. "And would you believe it, I can finally ring for help!"

[shiftythrifting]

Yo that's Moss Man and when he came out of the package he kinda smelled like Pine-sol.

Weird hairy/flocked he-man type figure at the stop'n'swap at the Sylvan dump.

@shiftythrifting

[linked-maze]

.:It's about Time:. part 1

A story behind how Navi and Time found each other! enjoy!

It was a cold hazy morning in the forest, after a whole night of rain. The small beam of light from the morning sun was shining through the leaves, warming up the air that was fresh and with an earthy smell. A tiny blue fairy emerged from a hole in a great redwood tree. Butt in the air, she yawned and stretched her whole fuzzy body, shaking the sleepiness out of her and flapping her wings awake. She raised her snout to sniff the air and letting out a sigh of relief. After months of winter, spring was finally settling in, and Navi couldn’t be happier about that. The forest was alive with all her favorite snacks, spiders, grasshoppers, and more! So, no time to spare! She set out to search the environment for some breakfast.

Navi flew through the cold air, the sun hitting her from above. The floor of the deep forest was filled with big old stones with beautiful carvings all over the place with moss and ferns covering the ground completely. A river close by, water flowing steadily. Navi took a glance for any danger in the area, but all seemed fine. She decided to start her hunt here. Flying down to land on some of the wet stones, almost slipping but caught her balance. She skipped along from stone to stone, stopping a bit to sip some water from a nearby plant that was dripping from the rain. Then, in the distance before her, she saw a delicious grasshopper! Navi ducked down quickly, and without making a sound she sneaked up to the prey behind the ferns, slowly approaching, ready to pounce any second now. However, suddenly a disturbance from the distance echoed throughout the deep forest. The grasshopper hopped away in fright. Navi attempted to go for the kill, but it was too late. It got away. “Tch…” Navi sighed in disappointment. She flew up to one of the tree branches high above, away from any danger. What in the world was that sound? Monsters did live in these woods, maybe it was one of those awful wolfos striding around the area, looking for their own prey. Or maybe it was one of those atrocious stalfos beating up a tree somewhere for fun. Suddenly the sound was back! It sounded like thunder rumbling! This was no wolfos or stalfos. This was something huge and dangerous. Navis curiosity got the best of her, and she set out to solve this. Navi got closer and closer to the mysterious rumbling. She flies above an ancient, overgrown temple ruin. Walls, Pillars, and statues broken down over time, greenery taken over the place completely. She has been here many times for the amazing apple trees that grow here. It has always been such a peaceful place. But not today, birds flying away in flocks, frightened by the ruckus. It sounded like a huge fight was going on!

Navi quietly landed on one of the big ancient statues, hiding behind it to get a peek in on what was going on, but nothing could have prepared her for what was making all that sound. It was a Goron! Out in the middle of the forest throwing around huge rocks, destroying them into small pieces. The Goron looked angry yet saddened, mostly getting his frustrations out. What was a Goron doing so far from home? Was he lost? Did he lose something? Whatever it was, he was making a commotion. Navi rolled her eyes. She had no time for this. She was about to set off again, but something stopped her. She took a glance at the Goron. Something about him seemed familiar but she couldn’t put her paw on what it was… it was like she had seen those eyes before, the right eye barring a huge scar across it. Navis memories sparked for a moment, the eyes resembling her dear old friend, but there was no way this was Link, this was a Goron. Navi felt a little bad stalking this poor Goron. So, she decided to let him be. He clearly didn’t want to be disturbed. Why else would he do his outburst deep in the forest far from home. Besides, Navi still needed some breakfast. She set off as quietly as she came. Back home, Navi was digging for worms in some dirt right underneath the redwood tree. It was no grasshopper and Navi loved the hunt of it all, but it was tasty, nonetheless. continued her day with small tasks and gathering fresh leaves for her nest. Walking down to a little puddle nearby to wash her paws clean after an evening of work, she couldn’t stop thinking about the Goron. And Link… it has been years now, but she still missed him deeply. The day she left him after completing the Dekus trees dying request, she was supposed to move on with her life. Finally reuniting with her great fairy and all her sisters in the forest. Living life with all her sisters was nice but she felt empty inside every single night, wondering what Link was up to and if he was okay… so one day she decided to go look for him! The hero she was meant to be with! But… he was nowhere to be seen. No one in Hyrule knew where he was. But that didn’t stop her! She searched for days, weeks, months! But with no luck… It was like he was gone… dead. Navis hope grew thin over the years, and she settled down in the deep forest, Abandoning her quest. But no matter what she did, she could never let him go in her heart.  The day went by, and the sun started to set at around dinner time. Navi laying at the opening of her redwood tree hole, still in thought, and was not feeling like hunting. She felt restless and couldn’t focus. So, she decided to go to sleep early this time. Letting her mind rest. to be continued~

[birdstudies]

December 19, 2024 - Kloss's Leaf Warbler (Phylloscopus ogilviegranti) Found in parts of Cambodia, China, Laos, Thailand, and Vietnam, these leaf warblers live in lowland and mountain forests. They eat small invertebrates, foraging alone, in pairs, or in flocks depending on the time of year. Breeding from February to June, they build ball or dome-shaped nests from grasses, moss, leaves, and other materials on or near the ground in tree cavities, on mossy tree trunks, or in vegetation. Females lay clutches of three eggs.

[ofmermaidstories]

fantasy au idea where your village is razed to the ground in the middle of the night by soldiers. you escape, just barely, half-crazed—but there is no where to run. your village is bordered by the ocean, by mountains and the hilly pastures that are now burning bright as the screams from the homes in the village follow you out into a dark copse of trees, hoping for cover.

you don’t see the archer, but he sees you, leaping over clumps of grass and dirt and stumbling like a drunk. his aim is true, and you gasp as the arrow pierces you.

you drop to your knees, the pain of the rocks you fall against, dull. vaguely, you’re aware of cold, fast water, soaking through your woollen skirt and weighing you down and if you had sense, still, you’d realise you’ve fallen into one of the creeks that vein through the forest—but you don’t. your face is wet, warm salt, and the last thing you think of, strangely, is the loaf of bread your neighbour had broken with you, just that morning, as she cackled over her own joke.

and then you pitch forward into the shallow water, already gone, and somewhere in the dark woods, a single owl calls out; the shadow of it cutting across the golden-hot light your village’s destruction as the edge of your skirt brushes against the submerged rocks.

(when the answering contingent of knights arrives in the village a few weeks later, it’s to scorched, blackened earth: the foundations of the buildings that had been here left like charred bones, picked apart and appealing to the sky.

kacchan is scowling, already barking out orders for the others to find what remains they can, to gather them, for graves to be dug—izuku sickened as he lets himself drop from his horse, his boots sinking into soft ash.

“even out here?” he asks, helplessly. uselessly. of course even out here. the capital’s army had marched through the land easily, without resistance. kacchan, who doesn’t spare him the pity anymore, frowns at him.

“take some of the others!” he says, but izuku is already walking away with a wave as he crosses over into the burnt fields, rising up from the woodland that reaches back to the mountains. it’s only when he gets to the edges of the trees that he pauses, his hand on the hilt of his sword—it’s quiet, in the trees. a lone whistle of a bird falling into silence as he approaches. izuku waits; the bird doesn’t regain its song, something about the silence, the air, paused but before he can decide if its a trap or magic there’s the crack of a branch, and the sudden, startling flurry of a flock of birds taking flight at the same time, izuku shielding his face from the frantic brush of their feathers and air as they dart past. his heart is pounding, with the surprise. he waits a heartbeat, a hard thump, and then another and another and when he at last lets his arms drop and looks up he’s startled again: you, standing there before him, grim.

“Who—” he starts to ask, but your face twists and before he can react the earth itself upturns itself; rocks at his feet where there were none, throwing him off balance as the ground shifts, trees bending down to protect you, to push izuku back.

GET OUT, he hears—he feels. it burns like a tight pain, across his mind and startled again he cries out before he lands on his ass, back out in the black earth of the burnt field, the forest crackling and creaking as somewhere, just beyond his sight, things rearrange themselves back to order again.

a survivor? he wonders, half in fear, half in hope. or something else?

and you—

your feet are muddy, sinking into moss as the ground where the knight stood fills itself in, marshy at first before it drains, green and undisturbed once more. at your back, an owl calls out, and you wait a moment—watching the treeline, waiting, but then the call sounds again and you turn, obeying.)

[yanderecrazysie]

The Outcast and the Flock (Yandere Fantasy AU)

Title: The Outcast and the Flock

AU: My own Fantasy AU

Pairings: Yandere! Kageyama x Reader x Yandere!Hinata

Summary: Neither you nor Kageyama fit in with the harpies. Kageyama, born an elf in Seijoh City, and you, an orphaned human raised in Karasuno. When both the harpies and the exiled elf love you so deeply, how can you choose between them?

Notes: Probably my longest one shot and it’s not over lol

Ending: here

The setting sun hung low in the sky, painting the cliffs of Karasuno in shades of pink and gold. The laughter of the harpies echoed through the air as they danced in the sky. Black wings spread against the gentle wind as they spun around playfully in the air. 

You sat at the edge of the nest-cliff, a cliff that led to the cave where all the harpies made their nests of grass, hay, twigs, and moss. Your legs dangled over the edge, but your eyes remained skyward, watching your friends with a mix of admiration and envy.

A blur of orange and black spiraled towards you, one of the harpies landing awkwardly next to you, skidding to a halt before he accidentally knocked you over the cliff.

“Hinata, careful!” you scolded.

Hinata, the ever-energetic member of the flock, fluttered his wings with excitement, “What are you doing down here? Why aren’t you up there with us?”

You let out a wry laugh, “I don’t have wings, Hinata.” You flapped your arms a few times, “I’m not really going anywhere, unless you plan on carrying me around all day.”

Hinata tilted his head, his infectious smile fading into a thoughtful line, as though he was considering the idea, “I would, but…” His gaze lowered to your arms, which rested gently against the dry grass. “You’re not really built for it. Harpies are light as feathers so they can fly, you know? You’re…” He trailed off, realizing too late that he was being a little too honest.

“Heavy?” you raised an eyebrow teasingly.

“No!” Hinata wailed, his feathers ruffling in panic, “Not like that! You’re just… um… different!”

The word hung in the air and you let out a little sigh. He wasn’t wrong, you were different. You were a human, stuck on the ground, while they, the harpies with wings on their backs, were meant to soar effortlessly through the skies. 

Sure, the harpies had taken you in when you were just ten years old, one of the last humans left in the Kingdom of Haikyuu, but moments like these made you realize how much you truly didn’t belong.

Hinata looked ashamed of himself as he took a seat next to you, “That doesn’t mean you’re not one of us. You’re practically family, (Y/n). And we’re… friends… Don’t forget that, okay?”

You nodded, but a glumness had settled over you as the sun disappeared behind Mt. Dateko. You shivered as the air cooled and Hinata placed a wing around you. The black feathers were warm, but they symbolized all you couldn’t have. At that moment, you just needed to get away.

“I’m going to go find Kageyama,” you said, standing up, “I haven’t seen him in a while.”

A flash of hurt crossed Hinata’s eyes before he seemed to understand. “Right… sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” you told him, “I’ll be back before it gets too dark.”

The path down the cliffs was steep but worn enough from use that you could still walk down it in the growing darkness. You wandered down until you reached the edge of Shiratorizawa Forest. The air here was cooler, which made you shiver even harder, but you liked the smell of the leaves and moss.

“What are you doing down here?”

You turned to see Kageyama standing just beyond the treeline, his face shadowed by the canopy of leaves above him. Unlike the harpies, who were all energy and excitement, the exiled elf was quiet and sharp-eyed. His blue eyes gave nothing away when he stared at you.

“I needed some air,” you said, “What about you?”

Kageyama shrugged and his blue eyes turned skyward, “Too noisy up there.”

You laughed, “You aren’t wrong.”

“Why do you stay?” Kageyama asked suddenly.

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. The harpies had offered you a home when you had nothing and nobody. They never made you feel unwanted, but that didn’t mean you felt like you belonged either.

“They’re my family,” you said, finally, “Even if I’m different.”

“Family,” Kageyama snorted, “You think Hinata thinks of you as-”

A shadow fell over you and you both looked up. A harpy waved at you from the sky and you recognized the flash of orange as Hinata. You waved back at him.

“You should go,” Kageyama said, jaw tightening.

“What about you?” you asked, “It’s getting dark.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, you turned back to the cliffs. As you walked away, you could feel Kageyama’s gaze lingering on your back. The shadows behind you stretched longer as night began to fall and the darkness eventually swallowed his figure.

The morning sun crept over the cliffs of Karasuno, casting long shadows across the training ledges, where the youngest harpies began their morning routines. Little Natsu looked over the edge nervously before running back to her older brother and hiding behind his leg, not ready to try flying yet.

Below, other harpies were waking up and coming out of the nest-cave, wings stretching lazily. Lively chatter filled the air as harpies preened themselves, preparing for the day ahead. Among the hustle and bustle was a lone elf.

Kageyama stood near the treeline once more, barely able to be seen from way up on the nest-cliff. Though he wasn’t born of feathers, Kageyama was undeniably one of them or, at least, as much as one of them as you were. His sharp and demanding behavior put him at odds with the others sometimes, but he was loyal and skilled in protecting the territory, and that was not ignored.

You wandered down the path to the edge of Shiratorizawa Forest and was intrigued to see him practicing magic. His hands moved gracefully, tracing glowing green symbols in the air. Arcs of green light shimmered briefly before vanishing, the faint hum of their power still resonating.

“Hey, Kageyama,” you called out softly, not wanting to startle him.

He glanced over his shoulder and the green magic lines in the air disappeared abruptly, “You’re up early.”

You ignored the comment on your sleeping habits and asked, “What are you practicing today?”

“Shields,” he said curtly, turning back to his work as the lights reappeared in the air, “Daichi thinks we need stronger defenses around the forest.”

“Do you ever take a break?” you teased.

“Do you ever stop talking?” he countered, though his lips twitched in a suppressed smile.

Despite his cold exterior, there was something magnetic about Kageyama. Where harpies were all noise and excitement, Kageyama had a quiet intensity about him.

As he worked on his magic, you found yourself inching closer, enraptured by the way his hands moved with liquid precision.

“How do you do it?” he finally asked.

“Do what?” you replied, confused.

“Stay so calm,” Kageyama’s ears seemed pinker than normal as he turned away to focus on his magic, “Everyone else is chaotic. But not you.”

He looked at you with an unreadable expression, but before either of you could say more, the clearing filled with the sound of wings beating.

“Found you!” Hinata’s voice rang out, cheerful as ever as he landed between the trees and cliffs with a very ungraceful thud. His grin widened when he looked up at you.

“Hey, Hinata!” you greeted him. The tension in his posture didn’t escape your notice.

“Practicing magic again, Kageyama?” Hinata asked, his tone light but with an edge to it. He crossed his arms, wings twitching slightly, “You could at least spend some time with the rest of the flock.”

Kageyama straightened, eyes narrowing, “I’m helping the flock. Defenses don’t build themselves.”

“Yeah, yeah, we don’t need defenses right now!” Hinata said loudly, “What we need is (Y/n) back where she belongs! With us!”

“I’m not exactly missing,” you deadpanned.

“You’re down here instead of up on top of the cliffs with us,” Hinata pouted, “And he’s always keeping you down here to himself. It’s not fair!”

“I’m not keeping anyone,” Kageyama said coldly.

“Then why is she always with you?” Hinata snapped, wings flaring.

“Hinata, it’s not a competition,” you said firmly, “Why are you trying to start a fight?”

Hinata’s feathers drooped and he looked at the ground, silent. “I just want you to spend time with me,” Hinata said after a moment.

“I will,” you promised, placing a hand on his arm.

Kageyama remained silent, glaring at the ground as though he wished the dry grass would set on fire. A half-formed symbol floated above his trembling hand.

The days that followed felt as though a dark cloud had settled over all of Karasuno. Hinata always seemed to be inviting you to something and you were beginning to tire of the endless activities.

One evening, you sat at the edge of the nest-cliff, watching the setting sun paint the horizon pink and orange. Hinata plopped down beside you, a wing settling behind you, ready to wrap you into an embrace.

“Hey!” he chirped. He was all smiles all the time, as though there had never been any tension, “We’re doing a night flight soon, you have to come watch! It’s going to be amazing to watch- black wings against a full moon’s sky! Pretty cool, huh?”

You forced a smile, “I’ll think about it.”

Hinata’s wings drooped, but his determination didn’t waver. “You really should come. Everyone would love it if you did.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze drifting to the edge of Shiratorizawa Forest. Your mind wandered to Kageyama, to the way that he practiced his magic with quiet patience.

“I need to stretch my legs,” you said finally, standing up.

Hinata’s eyes narrowed briefly, but he recovered quickly, grinning brightly once more as he said, “Don’t go too far! It’ll be dark soon!”

You nodded, already on your way down the steep path. Kageyama was waiting near the treeline, his back against a huge oak tree. His arms were crossed but he didn’t look irritated, in fact, his expression softened immensely when he saw you.

“You’re late,” he stated, though his tone lacked sharpness.

“Hinata kept me,” you admitted, taking a seat on a large, mossy rock near the trees. Kageyama frowned.

“He’s been keeping you a lot lately.”

You let out a sigh and buried your face in your hands, “He’s just worried.”

“Worried?” Kageyama snorted, “He’s jealous. And it’s becoming a problem.”

You didn’t deny it. All of the interruptions and distractions lately seemed so orchestrated and manipulative…

“I’m tired of it,” Kageyama said sharply, “You deserve better than this.”

You blinked, “What do you mean?”

“I’m saying you don’t belong here,” he said bluntly, “You’re not a harpy. You never will be. The more you try to fit in, the more it’s going to hurt you.”

Your head snapped back as though you’d been slapped. The words cut way deeper than you’d ever admit to anyone. “They’re my family,” you whispered, voice choking up.

“They’re holding you back,” Kageyama countered, “Come with me, we can find a new home. I’m not exiled from all of Seijoh City, just the castle.”

Your breath hitched, “What?”

“You don’t stay here, where you’ll never be a part of their world,” he said, his voice picking up excitement like you’d never seen in him before, “If you come with me, I’ll teach you magic. And I’ll take care of you, so you’ll never have to worry again.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. The thought of leaving Karasuno- of leaving the flock- was almost unthinkable. But the idea of finally belonging…

“And what happens to them?” you asked softly.

“They’ll survive,” Kageyama said coldly. “But you deserve more than this.”

A soft gasp rang out and you both turned your head to the source of the noise. Your eyes met Yamaguchi’s and, to your horror, he turned and took flight.

“He’s going to tell Hinata,” you realized aloud.

Kageyama snorted again, “Hinata probably sent him to spy on you. This is another reason why you need to leave.”

“I need time to think,” you whispered.

Kageyama looked disappointed, but he nodded, “Don’t take too long.”

The tension in the air was palpable as you made your way back up to the nest-cliff. Your thoughts wouldn’t stop racing. The harpies had taken you in when no one else would, but Kageyama was right in saying you didn’t belong.

You reached the top of the cliffs and looked out at the circle of harpies. Their chatter was quieter than usual and Hinata stood at the very center. The moment you appeared, his eyes locked onto you. Yamaguchi stood just behind him, his expression tight and nervous.

“(Y/n),” Hinata said, “Where’ve you been?”

Every gaze was fixed on you as you said, “Just… taking a walk.”

Hinata’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, “A walk, huh? Near Shiratorizawa Forest?”

Yamaguchi shifted uncomfortably, staring at you with accusatory eyes. You opened your mouth to respond, but Hinata cut you off.

“I know you’ve been meeting with Kageyama.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Even little Natsu looked subdued, her small black wings tucked tightly against her back.

“I…” you faltered. Why did you feel so guilty for meeting with a friend?

“Why would you go to him?” Hinata asked, his wings flaring slightly.

“He’s helping me,” you admitted quietly.

“Helping you with what?” Hinata demanded, “We’re your family. We’re here for you. Why do you need him?”

You dropped your gaze to your feet, curling your fingers into fists at your sides, “Because I don’t feel like I belong here!”

The collective gasp from the harpies felt like a punch to the gut. Hinata staggered backwards as if you had hit him, his wings drooping, “You… don’t belong?” he repeated slowly.

“I’ve tried!” your voice wavered and tears began slipping down your cheeks, “Believe me, I’ve tried! I’ve tried to be like you and forget that I don’t have wings, but I can’t! No matter what I do, I can’t be a harpy. I can’t!”

“So what?” Hinata asked desperately, “You’re just going to leave us? Run away with him?”

“I don’t know,” you cried, “I just… I need time to figure things out!”

“That’s not fair!” Hinata wailed, tears filling his own eyes, “You can’t leave me! We’re supposed to be your family! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?!”

It was all too much to bear. You wanted to reassure him and tell him that it meant the world to you. But staying in Karasuno when you had a chance to find out if more humans remained or you could at least live somewhere where the only difference between you and them was the shape of your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Hinata wiped the tears from his eyes, turned around, and stormed away. You had a choice to make, and there was no going back from it…

[periwinklemoonlight]

desperate for a minute in the light ⋆ boatem knights au

my third short story set in bee @applestruda 's boatem knights au and canon to the plot written by zera @hopepetal !! this is a big one!

cw: death, graphic injury, body horror

if you prefer, you can read it on ao3!

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It all was a bit of a blur. Pearl wasn’t sure if she could recount how exactly she had stumbled across the ancient temple in her journey, if she was honest. She had just been wandering around the forest on the outskirts of camp, and maybe travelled a bit too far in when she’d broken off from the others. She was sure that she would’ve seen a structure as big as this one earlier, though. Or that someone else had seen it, at least. The thing practically towered over the treetops around it.

Pearl tiptoed around fallen tree branches, fluttering her wings curiously. The structure sat in the middle of a small clearing, lush with tall grass and decorated with small, vibrant purple flowers. They were in sharp contrast to their surroundings, a stark colour among greens and yellows. She made a mental note to remember to pick a few from their stems when she was on her way back. There was a slightly older girl in her flock that she knew had garnered a great interest in botany recently, and Pearl had thought it a good idea to ask her to identify the flora. She’d also found herself rather interested in plants as of late, though she was always most enamoured with those that matched the lustrous gold colour of her wings. 

There was a small path of scattered rocks leading up to the entrance of the temple, barely visible between the blades of grass that hiked up to her waist. The Sun was high in the sky, and at just the right angle for the building to now be casting an ominous shadow over her as she approached ever closer. Its intimidating stature did not deter her; Pearl stepped deeper into the darkness.

It was extraordinarily odd, she had decided, that something like this had been here for what she presumed had to be centuries, if not millennia, and not a single person had ever mentioned it. It was a tall thing, to be sure, although as she looked closer she saw it did not seem to actually be very large beyond its generous entrance. It appeared to Pearl as more of a facade, as if the idea of a structure was all that remained. She wondered what the need for such a building may once have been before time and disrepair had taken hold of it and its architects.

Speculation aside, it was in a terrible state to be sure, with massive chunks of rock missing and an assortment of unidentifiable vines and mosses nearly entirely encompassing what was left. They seemed to crawl in between the cracks of stone and twist into each other like knots. Frail-looking columns teeming with fractures were all that remained to hold it all in place among crumbling walls, though evidently not without much difficulty. All things considered, it was a miracle it was still standing. 

The absolute disarray the structure was in made it all the more intriguing that a crescent moon symbol at its forefront was still completely intact, and subsequently, all the more imperative for Pearl to investigate. Or at least, that was how she had reasoned it out in her mind. 

Pearl crossed the threshold inside. 

She wasn’t expecting to find anything of value inside the old temple when she had entered, much less the prettiest thing she had ever laid eyes upon. There, resting on a crumbling pedestal at the other end of the temple was a beautiful silver crown, adorned with twinkling jewels and iridescent pearls. All her other curiosities were instantly thrown away the moment she saw it. It was magnetic: how she was instantly drawn to the item, and utterly sure that her finding it was no mistake. 

Sweet sunlight poured into the temple through half shattered stained glass windows, coating the crown in an alluringly bright glint that made Pearl’s heart swell with excitement. It was perfect. Her flock mates would come back from their search and see her wearing the gorgeous object, shinier than anything any of them had ever seen before, and be unable to resist showering her with praise for her expert find. It wasn’t as though she wasn’t already deeply accustomed to it, though. Being her flock’s golden girl had its perks, undoubtedly, especially in terms of popularity among the other children. The meticulously woven crown of sunflowers in her hair said as much. 

Something dark began to build in her as she approached it, however. The closer she got to the object, the more she could swear she smelled something rotting. Every eager step she took was soon punctuated by a feeling of dread that was quickly overtaking the initial exhilaration. Still, she persisted. She couldn’t give up the opportunity of retrieving the crown, couldn't shake off the feeling that something about it was just so right. Something so meant for her, and her alone. 

Pearl held her breath as she reached the final steps, though at that point she couldn’t tell whether it was in anticipation or to momentarily relieve herself of the nauseating smell that exuded from every crack in the stone and permeated all her senses. It was wholeheartedly disgusting, but Pearl had never been one to flinch at a little muck. The crown was just as beautiful up close, every jewel shining in a vibrant technicolour that by all accounts should have been impossible. She wanted nothing more than to take it for herself, place it upon her head and declare her rightful place as queen of this old dilapidated structure. 

She reached out to grab it, and gasped in shock at the intense burning sensation that instantly spread from the metal’s surface to her fingertips. Then, it all went dark. Though it was midday, the light that had been streaming into the temple vanished at once, as if someone had forcefully put the Sun to rest and brought upon night. The only light now was a faint, ghoulish glow emitting from the crown as it continued to singe her fingers. 

Pearl screamed in pain, though it only fell on the deaf ears of the dark. The sound reverberated around the temple walls, surrounding her in a claustrophobic cacophony of her own agony as the smell of flesh burning filled the air.

She watched in frozen horror as the skin on her fingers began to melt and rot before her eyes. Flesh bubbled and sloughed off as the burning spread down her palm, then her arm, until it creeped into her shoulder and threatened to seep into her wings. Pearl cried out again, bony fingers trembling uncontrollably as the rot began to trace her spine. Chills wracked exposed bone as warm blood ran down her back. Her feathers withered into ash as quickly as hair catching flame. As the pain began to paralyze her body entirely, Pearl thought, while she still had the capacity to think, anyone, anything, please, help me.

Her vision began to fizzle out entirely, and what was left of her collapsed on the temple floor as she finally let go of the wretched item, fingers fully limp. It was far too late, though. Seconds, maybe minutes, maybe years of agony seared through her body as she lay helpless, the crown fallen somewhere just out of reach. And then, it all stopped. 

Pearl wasn’t anywhere, and she was everywhere. 

A new type of darkness encapsulated her, this one deeper, more primordial than the first. No, not the absence of light as it had once been, but rather the essence of darkness itself. Although she knew it was dark, she could not see. No senses passed through her as she drifted meaninglessly, unsure if she was falling or rising or even moving at all. 

It was peaceful, yes. It couldn’t be anything but. Nothing around her, nothing against her, nothing for her, she was nothing just the same. All that was left was a deep, insurmountable emptiness. The emptiness that held the fabric of the universe together, the negative space to fill the gaps to keep it all from falling apart at the seams. Pearl might have felt fear, being surrounded by nothing and everything, if she had still been capable of anything at all.

Pearl spent forever in the silent nothingness, and no time at all had passed when she first heard it. A faint single tone, low but not deep, floated around her. Pearl clung onto the sensation desperately, trying to grasp at it, take it for herself and hold it tight to her chest. Instead, she followed it as it slowly became louder, more solid. The pitch increased, then dropped and mellowed out in the middle once more. The melody was the brightest thing she had ever seen in a long, long time. 

She followed its lead, doing something akin to opening her mouth to sing along, wanting to join this light in its song. She did not, of course. She had no mouth to sing with, and no voice to produce noise. She was just Pearl. Still, she chased the tone, which had since then evolved into a simple melody, repeating itself patiently, taking care to never get ahead of itself or change its pace. The melody had all the time in the world. It knew Pearl did, too. 

She felt herself be guided by the song, mirroring its tones with her movements. When it dipped, she dived down with it. When it rose, she soared. The vocalisations carried her like a current, weaving Pearl through its highs and lows. 

And then, all at once, nothing was dark or ever had been dark. A brightness enveloped her, so purely light that darkness would never dare step close to it, lest it cease to exist entirely. It knew better. The melody had evolved too, the chiming tones teetering on the edge of resembling words. Pearl could not make them out. 

Instead, she allowed the song to engulf her as well, feeling two blankets of light drape across something that could have been her back. Gently, the song washed over her and flowed like a lullaby, rendering her into something akin to sleep. Suddenly, after spending eternity in absence, she was something again. The light became brighter, heavier, thicker, until it was no longer encasing her. It was her.

The light was as bright as it ever could be, and suddenly it was dark again.

And cold. And wet. And sticky. And gross. Pearl opened her eyes, and found herself exactly where she’d ought to have been. Collapsed before the pedestal, yet bathed in the same warm light of midday. Except, something was very, very wrong. She lifted herself weakly off the temple floor onto her elbows, finding her hands covered in a black sludgy substance. Brown, wilted petals and leaves lay where her head had been. Pearl’s vision blurred and spun, and she blinked it away as best as she could, trying to orient herself to having a body again. 

She wiped the sludge off her hand on something white and soft, a fuzzy substance resting gently underneath her as if it had broken her fall all this time. Its edges appeared torn and frayed. She attempted to raise herself up further, and was met with an intense ache in her back that caused her to double over again in pain. She inhaled sharply — she was breathing, she could breathe— and tried again, this time successfully balancing onto her knees. 

She made a half hearted attempt to flutter her wings, feeling panic start to surge through her when they felt wrong. Lighter. The familiar weight of hollow bones and strong muscle on Pearl’s back was replaced with something featherlight and delicate, though she would bet that whatever was there wasn’t feathers at all. 

With trembling hands, Pearl reached up over her ear to feel the texture of the small wings that resided there, the panic bubbling inside her as she felt nothing but smooth skin and clumps of wet hair where soft feathers should be. No, no, no. 

Her hand traveled higher, threading through her hair and stopping at her forehead. No, that wasn’t right. Her hand was stopped. By an antenna, sticking out of her head just where her bangs began. She grasped it, and promptly cried out in pain at just how sensitive it was, her nerves on fire. And then it hit her. She was feeling what it felt. It was a part of her. 

There, sitting covered in sludge-like black goo and on top of a silk cocoon, at the crest of a worn down temple in the middle of nowhere, Pearl screamed. And this time, it was heard.

She had only just managed to get herself to stand on her own two feet again when she heard twigs snapping and familiar voices chattering nervously, getting closer. Pearl balanced herself with great difficulty, the lightness on her back still disorienting. Slowly, achingly, she stepped forwards off of the silk and onto the cold, gritty temple floor once more. 

“Pearl?” an approaching voice called out, stretching out her name. “Where are you? Are you okay?” Pearl opened her mouth to speak and screamed again as black sludge poured out and trailed down her chin, evidently not yet all spilled on the floor behind her. The noise alerted her flockmates, though, and the footsteps drawing near increased in speed tenfold as she spat out the rest of the sludge, feeling utterly disgusted. 

“Pearl!” they called again. “Are you in here?” A flurry of voices accompanied the cry, getting closer and closer until Pearl could finally see them approaching her. The leader of the search party, a girl with dandelion coloured wings, was the first to enter the temple, and the first to see her. The others quickly appeared at her sides as the girl cried out in shock, clasping her hands over her mouth and stumbling backwards. The rest of the search party followed suit similarly, gasping and yelling as they laid eyes on her. 

Panic quickly returned to light Pearl’s nerves ablaze and replace the small shred of hope that had been building when she’d first heard them approach. She tried to speak again once more and found that her throat, terribly dry despite being choked with sludge moments ago, could only produce a croak that tore into her vocal cords like shards of glass. Tears formed in her eyes as another drop of sludge fell to the floor in front of her. She could see on their terrified faces and through their hushed whispers to each other that she had only moments to plead her case.

Desperately, Pearl gestured behind her where she knew the silver crown had dropped from her hand, unsure what she expected to happen but hoping they would notice it nonetheless. Something, anything. Instead, what she said was a conveniently placed pile of ash that just so happened to create a perfect ring shape. Pearl wailed in frustration, the sensation ripping through her throat. 

“Oh my void, she’s a monster!” one of her flockmates, a girl about her age with pretty amber wings, shrieked through tears as she clung to her friend. As soon as Pearl took a single step forward, she knew it was over. The other girls all screamed and ran as fast as their feet could take them out of the temple, each clamouring to be the first to escape. 

On wobbly legs, Pearl followed them, chasing just as desperately she did that melody in the darkness. She couldn’t let her hope run away from her. 

One of the slower girls dared to look back and screeched to the others, “She’s following us!” Those who had exited the temple now scrambled to take flight, pausing only to pull the last of their flockmates along with them into the sky. They had already risen high into the sky by the time Pearl made it out, the tall grass beneath them entirely trampled in their haste. Purple flowers lay pathetically: half-lodged in dirt, disregarded. Pearl’s eyes darted upwards at her fair-weather friends and she grit her teeth, determined to fly after them despite her badly aching body.

Pearl jumped and flapped her thin wings uselessly, embarrassingly unacquainted with the new protrusions on her back. She managed to hover in the air for only a moment before she came crashing down onto herself, her already bruised limbs now meeting solid ground. She didn’t try to get up again. 

Instead, Pearl lay there in the dirt, shivering and crying unabashedly into her arms as her flitty wings twitched, unable to do anything as her flockmates abandoned her as quickly as they’d found her. When she’d finally mustered up the resolve to lift her head up, she was greeted with a single amber feather that had fallen just inches away from her.

⋆⋆⋆

Pearl had gone silent in front of Grian, her words now replaced with shaky breaths and sniffles. He finally let go of her hair and let it fall against her back, having finished braiding it long ago. 

“Pearl?” He asked gently. “Are you okay?” She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he used the opportunity to slide himself beside her. Soft blankets crumpled around him. A simple glance revealed what he already knew: quiet tears were streaming down her face. She turned her head away from him to wipe them, suddenly aware he could see them now. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m alright,” Pearl breathed. She faced him again, unable to hide the smile that creeped up into her cheeks when she saw his silly worried expression. “Honest.”

“Are you sure? We can stop now if you want-”

“Griba,” Pearl interrupted. “I want to tell you. I don’t think there’s anyone on this planet who deserves to know more than you. Will you let me do that?” Grian’s shoulders relaxed.

“Of course, yeah.” He looked sheepish. “Sorry.” Pearl elbowed him playfully.

“It’s alright, mate. Really. It’s been on my mind for a while now.”

“So… what happened next?” Grian asked. Pearl took a breath before continuing.

“Well, for starters, I had to get all that muck off me. So I took a little dip in the nearest river. I don’t blame them for not recognizing me at first, now. It stained my hair and clothes black for a while. I still looked like a completely different person by the time I went back to camp.”

“You went back?”

Pearl laughed. “What choice did I have? There was no place for me there anymore, I knew that, but there wasn’t exactly a place for me anywhere else, either. So I went back. They… I’m not quite sure they knew what to do with me. They tolerated me, which was all I could have ever asked for at that point. Well. Pretended to tolerate me. But that was all I needed. I could tell as soon as I got there that everyone already knew everything they needed to. How the other kids had found me, that I was a… moth.” She paused for a moment, sniffling again.

“Everyone was gathering up to leave camp. By the time I got there, they’d already begun to pack their things, so I did the same. We always travelled light, of course, but I can’t tell you how happy I was to finally get myself a change of clothes. I was wearing my favourite dress that day, you know? Green, with lovely droopy shoulders and little bits of gold to match my wings. And it was ruined, covered in nasty muck and drenched in river water, just like the rest of me. I think I burned it. The night they all left.” 

Grian tilted his head to the side, trying not to intrude on her space but wanting to be closer nonetheless. He thought of the choice he had made all those years ago, the look on his little brother’s face when it happened. A hand grasped tightly in his own, wings wrapped even tighter. He imagined Pearl in his place. To be loved one minute and left behind all the same. “You didn’t have any family in your flock?” As soon as the question left his lips, he regretted it.

Pearl winced, her face scrunching up. Another tear dropped down her cheek. “I did.” 

Grian looked as though he was about to give her a million apologies, but instead, he silently wrapped his wing around her, brushing his feathers against her shoulder as if to say, I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.

Pearl continued. “I did try to leave with them, don’t get me wrong. By then, I had actually figured out how to fly a little with these things.” She spread her wings out for a moment before flattening them out again. 

“But it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t keep up with them normally, not by a long shot, and especially not in the middle of a storm like the one that was raging that night. I would have never admitted it to myself back then, but I’m certain now that they left when they did very much on purpose. They wanted to make sure there was no way I could follow. And they were right, I couldn’t. I did make it farther than I thought I would’ve, higher too actually, but void, was the wind strong. I was tumblin’ around like a leaf in the air trying to keep up. I tried for a good long while until I just couldn’t anymore. And then I fell.” Grian pressed his lips together, his mind suddenly conjuring up another familiar image. Yellow feathers stained red, caught on tree branches and littered in the grass below. He knew all too well the consequences of an avian falling. 

“I was one of the lucky ones, I guess you could say. My wings, flimsy as they were,  — are  —, were okay for the most part. It was my leg that took the blow the hardest. The break was pretty bad, I won’t lie to you. It was only another stroke of luck that saved me. There was a village nearby, barely visible from wherever I’d landed. But it was there. So, one more time, I chased it. I propped myself up on my good leg as best I could, and I was going to drag myself over to that darn village if it was the last thing I did.” Inexplicably to Grian, she giggled after she spoke. His expression said it all, and Pearl laughed again.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just thinking about it. I must’ve been quite a sight to those poor village folk! Covered in mud, leg twisted all the wrong way, soaking wet in the storm! I think that was the beginning of my whole ‘wet cat’ shtick, honestly.”

“Pearl, you could’ve died, I don’t think-” Grian began.

“I know I could’ve died!” she squawked, throwing her hands up. “But it just, I don’t know, it didn’t really scare me anymore. I didn’t want to die, mind you, but I had just kinda thought, well, I was going to live, or I wasn’t. Simple as that. And hey! Look at me now! I’m still kickin’, aren’t I?” 

Grian couldn’t imagine it. All his life, above all else, he had been determined to survive. There wasn’t any other option. He'd tell himself he would live to see the Sun rise another day, and somehow, he would. Death was not something to come to terms with, shake hands with, tell I’ll see you later. It was something to fend off, teeth and soul bared, and triumph against despite all odds. There was simply too much life had to offer to him, and he would be a fool to refuse it. 

“That you are, Pearl,” he smiled, poking her with his knee. Pearl returned the favour with an exaggerated kick to his shin with the leg she’d been swinging back and forth off the edge of her bed. Grian yelped dramatically.

“And don’t you forget it! Where was I? Oh, yes yes, the village. Well, I did make it over there in the end.” Pearl looked wistful. Grian waited patiently for her to continue again, but the moment never came. After a good long while, he spoke.

“...And then?” He asked.

“And then?” Pearl slinked her braid over her shoulder. It really was nicely done, each strand placed with clear care. “And then I met you, doofus. And Jimmy. And it was the best darn thing to ever happen to me.”

[porcelainseashore]

Memento Mori - The Cardinal North

Author's Note: Fyi, I used the prompt “Haunting” as I was originally going to submit this for @vampemoqueen’s WoD Hallozine, but ended up choosing another entry. Shoutout to the lovely @childofmalkavians for their art direction on my cover image!

“Memento Mori” is about Dávdna’s (or Dagny, as she was once called) near-death experience as a child, and how that resulted in her future sire haunting her throughout the years.

“Eh, Dagny, stop that,” her father called out. There was a stern edge to his voice, weary, and worn like cracked leather. He sucked his teeth, yellowed from tobacco, which he sometimes chewed or smoked in his pastime.

Her humming mellowed into a sigh before sputtering out like an extinguished flame. She knew better than to upset him further when he addressed her in that tone. He turned his gaze back towards the horizon, crow’s feet splaying out at the corners of his eyes as he squinted—searching, hoping, wandering.

It had been a long day out at sea, casting lines and nets, but each time they came back empty handed—peculiar for what was considered the prime cod fishing season. It was that period of the year where the days were short and darkness swept across the windstricken landscape of the region they called home: Romsa. With nightfall approaching, whatever light they had was fading. They would need to set sail soon.

One of the men said Guolleipmil was angry. The people have been taking too much and giving nothing in return. And that was when the god would withhold any catch as punishment.

“Her singing attracted a bad omen,” another one accused, his eyes narrowing in Dagny’s direction.

“Pshh!” the skipper snapped, his patience wearing thin as he came to his daughter’s defense, silencing the man with a single hand raised in the air.

“One last try,” he urged, his broad, calloused fingers already working through the fishing tackle. “Then we go.”

Murmured whispers broke out among the crew, but their actions betrayed their words, hands and feet busying themselves at their stations as if on autopilot, one step ahead of where their minds were at present.

“Dagny,” her father whistled low through his crooked teeth, his hand lethargic and weighty as he motioned for her to join them.

Folding her legs in, she pressed her palms against the wooden floorboard of the deck, smooth and cool against her clammy skin, pushing herself up onto her feet. She didn’t want to disappoint him when he’d fought with eadni—mama—to bring her along on one of his many fishing trips, instead of leaving her at home to tend to the farm, like a good little girl should. Dagny was at the age of restlessness, where the world was an oyster, and everything had to be explored, at least once. 

Áhčči had quelled the tumultuous waves surging underneath mama’s calm veneer. “Let her be,” he had said, his gruffness replaced with warm velvet caressing her shoulders. “She is all we have...”

Papa longed for a boy, even though he had never mentioned it out loud. But Dagny knew. And she couldn’t fail him—not now, not ever. 

She darted over, taking on her gloves like a second layer of skin before throwing the hooks out, watching it sink out of sight with the plummet attached at the end of the line. Her hands slipped into a repetitive pattern, pulling the cord taut between her fingers, checking every so often if anything would bite. The practice itself was meditative, her eyes turning glassy like the gentle swell sloshing against the hull. 

They said her eyes were waterlogged—too pliant and weak. She would go places, but never gather any moss. Yet there she stood, legs rooted to the ground, listening to the waters rolling in like the rhythmic tick of a grandfather’s clock, comforting, in silence. Apart from the occasional flock of oystercatchers overhead, they were relatively undisturbed. Time grew sluggish. The blistering winds pierced her cheeks and crystallized on her lashes.

There was a glimmer on the surface, maybe it was the last rays of sun catching on the ripples. She rubbed her eyes, once distant, now focused on the spot where the light had blinded her. And it reappeared, that unearthly sheen—a secret morse code, beckoning and luring her like prey.

Someone called her name. A deep voice, like her father’s, except… it wasn’t her name, not quite. She jerked her head in each cardinal direction, but the men were still, like marbled statues, lost in space and time to the twilight hour. Papa was nowhere to be found.

“Dávdna…”

Again.

“Čahcerávga,” she muttered under her breath, knowing them as one of the many who had perished at sea.

Don’t answer. She had been taught not to.

But a force tugged at her from within the bowels of her chest, and she felt compelled to speak. “Bures?”

There was no response.

“Hei?” she tried again, but nothing stirred. Not even the men tried to shush her. Were they still around?

Something bobbed in the waters below. She leaned over the railing, watching bubbles froth in the foam. A monstrous face flashed across her vision and she gasped, dropping the line she had held as it slid carelessly into the open sea.

“No!” she cried out, scrambling to salvage the rest of the tackle, clutching onto it for her dear life as the cord entangled itself around her fingers.

Without warning, the boat keeled on its side and she lost her balance, plunging headfirst into the murky depths of saltwater. Frantic shouts of commotion came from the vessel and she saw the crew’s distorted faces reflecting back at her from the world above. They popped up next to each other like scattered stars in the sky—so magnificent and beautiful, she could stay here forever.

“Man overboard!”

The yell cut through the air like a knife, sharp enough to reach the pit she was falling through. It ripped her from her reverie the way a patch of hair would be torn from her scalp. She shook her head, limbs awakening from their temporary slumber as they powered into motion.

Dagny had always been a strong swimmer, but little did she know that she was caught in the middle of a cross sea. And even she was no match for that.

Pockets of water swirled around her as she struggled violently against the undercurrent. It resisted her like thick sludge, clinging onto every part of her body, coaxing her to stop, to surrender, to accept that this was where she would finally meet her end.

The freezing temperatures numbed her flesh, lulling it back to sleep. Pressure filled her eardrums as she was sucked deeper into the briny abyss. How far had she fallen? Her mouth flew open and she screamed and screamed. But it was silent—no sound could travel here, not in this godforsaken place she had once considered her second home.

So cold…

Tired…

Give in…

Her soul would be offered to Čáhcealmmái now.

She could hear her heartbeat quietening, eyes falling heavy as her lungs burned. Yet she carried on, defiant in her pathetic, feeble paddling. The nerves in her fingers twitched and her muscles spasmed, but she continued moving.

“I’m still here! I’m still alive!” she wanted to howl.

In return, she felt scaly, webbed claws hook onto her oilskins, shredding the fabric and scratching her back. The next minute, she was hurled upwards, yanked from the womb of the ocean’s belly as she rose to the top.

Amid the flurry of activity, a pair of glowing embers greeted her from beneath the waves, like pin prick dots of a blazing sun. Globs of saliva drooped from elongated fangs in sinewy strings, dissolving into the tide. She should’ve been scared, she should’ve turned away and bolted, but she didn’t. Instead, she reached out, delirious, noticing how the fire flickered in those eyes. But before her hand could draw any closer, the creature shrieked, pushing her back as it disappeared as quickly as it came.

Floating on the water’s surface, Dagny took her first gulp of air, reborn.

When she was safely hoisted up onto the boat, her father lunged forward, grasping her frail body in his arms as he pressed his lips desperately into her wet hair. “Mu mánná…” he choked. 

My child.

She peered up at his sore, reddened eyes, and his grip around her tightened. It was only then that she realized it was the first time she had seen him cry.

━━━━━━━━━━━

For a long time afterwards she searched for answers. A sprinkling of hints or clues as to what she had witnessed down below. 

“Be grateful that the spirit spared you,” she was often told.

Whatever questions she had were put to rest, buried six feet under, unspoken and unheard of, as if it had never happened at all. As if one could only will something into existence by acknowledging it. If only it were that simple.

Those eyes, like scorching coal, haunted her wherever she went. She could never shake off the unsettling feeling of being stalked—from the shadows, the blurry figures in her peripheral vision, or the glint in a smiling fox’s gaze, like she had been branded to the bone. In her sleep, she dreamt of those demonic eyes, the same eyes that belonged to her savior, and the strange name it had called her.

Eventually, she grew up, taking after her father like a replica. Though she had flown from the nest, making a life for herself in another coastal town down south. He sailed less now in his age; she sailed more.

One night, she found herself back in the same hometown where she had spent most of her childhood years. It was enroute along the course they had mapped out beforehand. While her crewmates hogged the local bar, crass and blustery with their swollen faces, she slinked away, paying a rare visit to her old man.

He was thrilled to see her. Mama had passed a few years ago and he missed company.

“You’ve cut it short,” he remarked, eyes crinkling as he thumbed through the ends of her hair. His toothless grin proud, as if he had raised a son in place of a girl.

“Come and live with me, áhčči,” Dagny suggested. She had made the offer countless times, but he was stubborn, ox-headed.

“I won’t go any further south,” he scoffed, clearing the phlegm from his throat as his mouth twisted in disgust. 

They spoke differently there; they lived differently. That was not his home. He would rather die alone than surrounded by a community he didn’t belong to.

When he headed to bed, she wandered off, aimlessly ambling along the shore. She stepped over the seaweed and debris that had washed up along its banks, twirling the neck of a liquor bottle between her fingers. The faint strains of drunken sea shanties echoed from a distance as she sat upon a half-forgotten log sunken in the sand.

The sulfur smell of the sea calmed her. She took a swig, scrunching her face as the harshness stripped her throat bare. There was always dried fish blood under her nails, no matter how hard she scrubbed, and flakes of scale embedded in her clothes. She’d grown accustomed to the odor of sour wool and stale sweat—this was her life now. But she couldn’t help but wonder: was there something more?

A shift in the breeze caused her to shudder, and she heard that damn name again.

“Dádvna…”

It carried the scent of something new, something foreign, and along with it, a sense of unease—one she had tried so hard to suppress, time after time. 

Just as she picked herself up to leave, there was a loud gurgle and a roaring whoosh, and she found herself slipping, face hitting the ground as she was dragged by her feet into the brackish waters. She thrashed about, swiping at whatever it was that had caught her, clawing her way free. 

But it didn’t let up, holding her in a vice-like grip, too powerful for her to overcome. All at once, she was taken back to the time she had nearly drowned as a child, flopping like a dying fish, only to be released back on land. All of it amounting to this.

How apt.

And she laughed and laughed. Bubbles escaped from her mouth as seawater suffocated her lungs. Through the darkness, she saw the same blood red eyes that had haunted her over the past decades, and she threw her arms open, welcoming it.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Endnotes

Thank you for reading!

I’ve tried to do my research on coastal Sámi communities, as well as their language and mythology, which I hope I’ve portrayed respectfully. However, if I’ve made any mistakes, I’m happy to receive feedback, so I can correct them accordingly.

Dividers by @strangergraphics

[wayfayrr]

Welcome to my humble abode on this beloved hellsite of ours, you can call me moss!!

I write for Linked universe, with the links holding my whole heart and living in my mind rent free most of the time. My asks are always open if people want to talk! While requests can vary - but this will always be up to date with if they're open or not and the masterlist is below the cut. I hope you'll enjoy your time here <3

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My kofi is over [Here]

Key: yandere ✧ self - aware au ⚝

✦ Sky ✦ ✧ Shuffle-inspired Yandere Sky ✧ Self-aware sky ✧ ⚝ Sky's escape into your arms ✧ Ace of the sky ✧ ⚝ Anniversary nostalgia ✧ ⚝ Copy and pasted ✧ Yandere Headcanons Love like you ✧*.⚝⋆ ⚝ Soft cuddles

✦ Twilight ✦ Showing twilight Twilight ✧ A platform to fall for twilight ✧ ⚝ A Sickly escape Part two

✦ Wild ✦ Signs and errors ✧ I would dye for you ✧ ⚝ By your side from day one ✧ ⚝ A little escapade Birds without feather flock together - Toucan play at that game Yandere headcanons

✦ First ✦ ✧ First meeting Yandere Headcanons

✦ Mask ✦ ⚝ Mask meets with his sibling

✦ Time ✦ Time x DQ worker ✧ Kissing his scars ✧ ⚝ Siblings? I'll be your sibling for real

✦ Hyrule ✦ Hyrule handling the modern world

✦ Calamity ✦ Cal bonding with parent reader over tarot cards

✦ Legend ✦ Legend x Isekai reader

✦ Tears ✦ Small drabble requests are all under #lu tears Headcanons Stardew valley Insecure headcanons

✦ Wind ✦ It's empty -

✦ Warriors ✦ ✧ ⚝ Self-conscious captain ✧ Human errors ✧ I bet on losing dogs - My love mine all mine

✦ Four ✦ Nothing yet -

✦ Multiple Links ✦ Fics - Hair washing and bubble baths Catboy wars and wild [crack] I didn't think hyrule had berlin- "Wait no you're not supposed to get hurt."

Headcanons - Aspec links yandere touches Sassy/ motherly reader Asking for affection Humans are hylian orcs Gossiping with aryll Yan divorce Hcs

Destiny & LU x reader - HC's about player

[woohookangaroo24]

Head-cannon Light Furies don't just live in the hidden world they live deep and in the far away caves with the other subspecies of Night Furies in the hidden island. Living solitary or social of small to large family flock hunting for seals, small animals and fishes. Light Furies come in dark and light gray or all white scales and have colorful markings that can glow on command if threatened or when cubs play with each other in shallow waters in the cave.

The caves and dens have bioluminescent rocks and glowing moss, medium sized crystals

Kinda like a mini hidden world 🤍🩷🩵🩶 .... More head-cannons coming soon.