#harpy writes

[journey-to-tiger-mountain]

Lán FúLóng 藍伏龍

The current leader of the Lan clan and the oldest of the current ruling generation

His courtesy name 伏龍 FúLóng means crouching dragon. This is a reference to the most accomplished strategist of the Han dynasty era, Zhuge Liang, who is also played by Takeshi Kaneshiro (pictured above) in the movie Red Cliff

His title is 太寧君 TàiNíng Jun, meaning peace under the sky

His given name is 明 Míng, meaning bright

He is a direct descendant of Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, who adopted several children during their mortal lives

His disposition is very calm and serene, but driven by academic curiosity. He especially is very open-minded towards demonic cultivation, and not only because of his heritage

He's widely respected as a very accomplished swordsman, but his true calling is teaching

He upholds the tradition of keeping rabbits in the Cloud Recesses

He and Lan Fengchuan are childhood friends. He finds her ambition and nerve inspiring

He has a sweet tooth but doesn't indulge, unless it's a special day such as a festival, and even then only a little. When Lan Fengchuan brings him candy from the city, it's a gift from a friend and thus different

From the fanfic The Tale of Tiger Mountain

[harpygon]

It‘s 2 am quick post the first chapter of a 2 yo forgotten project as a oneshot:

Zedaph woke up to Tango literally hanging above him. He had woken up to worse and weirder things, both of them involving Tango, so seeing his friend hang on to a rope barely 20 centimeters above him was almost normal.

„Welcome back,“ Tango greeted him.

When Tango wakes Zedaph, he doesn‘t worry. But when Tango starts spewing cryptic nonsense about children, things get more interesting…

[harpywitharobot]

Some ppl were asking what fic relates the art of the Phoenix!AU I am working on. So here you go!

[2-dsimp]

How’s Mr.big bird when he’s in rut, especially if he’s already in a established relationship with the reader?

◤─────•~❉᯽❉~•────◥

𝕃𝕪𝕟𝕩 𝕥𝕙𝕖 ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕡𝕪 ℙ𝕣𝕖-𝕣𝕦𝕥 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

◣─────•~❉᯽❉~•────◢

♬ 𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕥 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖�� 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕃𝕪𝕟𝕩’𝕤 𝕣𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕖’𝕕 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 ��𝕖 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕪 𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕪 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕖’𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕤 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥. ℍ𝕖’𝕕 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕪𝕠𝕦, 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕖.

♬ 𝔻𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕤, 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕕 𝕗𝕚𝕟𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕖𝕥𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕦𝕤𝕖; 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕙𝕠𝕠𝕕𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣, 𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕤, 𝕤𝕙𝕖𝕖𝕥𝕤, 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕚𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕦𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕝𝕤 𝕙𝕖’𝕕 𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕥.

♬𝔹𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣’𝕤 𝕔𝕠𝕠𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕣𝕡𝕤 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕟 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘. 𝕚𝕥’𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕨𝕚𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕒𝕟 𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖𝕣. 𝕊𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕨𝕠𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕤 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕖𝕕. (𝕓𝕒𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕙𝕦𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕠𝕕)

♬𝕐𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕡𝕪 𝕠𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕒𝕔𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕒 𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕠𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕠𝕗𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕤 𝕚𝕗 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕠𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦. 𝕀𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕙𝕖’𝕝𝕝 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝕥𝕣𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕒𝕥. 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚𝕟 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕟𝕦𝕫𝕫𝕝𝕖𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕔𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕘𝕝𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤.

♬𝕀𝕗 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕚𝕤 𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕙𝕖’𝕝𝕝 𝕓𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕟 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕝𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕤. 𝕊𝕞𝕠𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕔𝕝𝕒𝕨𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕖’𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕚𝕦𝕣 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖.

♬ 𝕎𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕒 𝕤𝕒𝕕𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕕 𝕪𝕖𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕖𝕩𝕠𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟, 𝕃𝕪𝕟𝕩’𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕖 𝕣𝕦𝕥 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕠𝕗 𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕓𝕖𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕝𝕡 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞.

♬𝕎𝕚𝕝𝕝 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕪 𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 (𝕕𝕚𝕒𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕤/𝕛𝕖𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕤/𝕘𝕠𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕦𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕥𝕤) 𝕥𝕠 𝕘𝕚𝕗𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕦𝕤𝕖. 𝕀𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕘𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕤 𝕙𝕖’𝕕 𝕓𝕖 𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕣𝕖𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 𝕤𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕤𝕗𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕪 𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖.

♬𝕃𝕪𝕟𝕩 𝕀𝕤 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕨𝕠𝕟𝕥 𝕝𝕖𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕦𝕟𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕞. 𝕎𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕚𝕥 𝕓𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕣 𝕒𝕔𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕤, 𝕒 𝕜𝕖𝕪 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕞, 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕠𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥𝕤/𝕖𝕔𝕥.

♬ ℍ𝕚𝕤 𝕕𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕒 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕧𝕖 𝕒𝕤 𝕒 𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕡𝕪𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕞𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖. 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦’𝕣𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟.

[starry-bi-sky]

Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.  

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 

It is a fast dream. 

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 

—---  

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom. 

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

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

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

[mayullla]

Quest: Farmers need help at the barn

Character(s): Harpy (Unnamed character/original work) Summary: You are an adventurer, taking up missions and quests in the guild. And this you choose to help out a monster barn, unknown to you that a certain feathered monster thought of you as his mate. Tags/Warnings: Yandere!monster, fem!reader, general yandere themes, violence (murder, etc), monster slavery, mating/courting rituals, possessive behavior, blood, human x monster romance, misunderstandings, obsessive monster

"I am so sorry! We had opened the cop for the harpies so that we could go and collect their eggs but it seems that one was sneaky enough to get out of the cage and run away!!" 

Arriving at the farm you were immediately greeted with a farmer, tall and gruff, certainly strong enough to deal with monsters yet panicked as one had escaped the pen, and with barely enough staff currently he definitely needed help.

"I am really sorry, we will pay you more for the trouble." The farmer said asking you to search for the harpy that got away. It was a monster after all and with a human village near here, you could not help but become a little concerned. 

"We also have someone else looking for the harpy right now, if needed and the harpy had placed humans in danger the guy has a bow ready to shoot." He had told you that the monster ran away to the forest and could not have gone far away as they were able to land a shot on its wing. He gave you a map and guided you to the gate of the forest, leaving just as soon.

Except you were not sure if you were really going the right way!! 

You looked at the map and frowned. You have been walking around the forest for what felt like hours now and just could not find the harpy that escaped!

Sighing as you looked at the sun still up so high you wondered if you would be stuck here searching for this monster the whole day. Really you hoped that it would end as soon as possible so that you could finally go home or maybe get a quest that won't cost you to circle the forest tens of times...

"Grrr..." You looked behind you, ready to attack whatever creature that made that sound in the forest. Yet nothing showed themselves to you as you constantly hear the growls and somehow had a mix of pain with it. Heading towards the sound as cautiously as possible you found a hidden cave and cautiously went in.

You were surprised to find a harpy in the dark dreary place. And you also noticed that one of his wings was bleeding. An arrow wound you were sure was done by a hunter and another one on its thigh.

It was easy to connect the dots somewhat, the harpy met the hunter somewhere in the forest and managed to get away but the hunter still managed to get his thigh with an arrow. He hid himself, unable to fly back to his home and also started screeching at night to ward off any predators that could have found him.

He glared at you as he dragged himself deeper into the small cave to get away from you. Screeching in hopes that you would become afraid and run away. But instead, you slowly went over to him, with a soft voice trying to calm it down. "Hey, it is fine... You will be alright."

It didn't trust you at all but after offering it a bit of food and encouraging words and with time, still cautious of you he finally let you come closer. You tried to be careful when applying ointment and bandaging up his wing and then later his thigh, one wrong move can get you clawed by the monster. 

It seemed very used to humans, you were at first sure that it would take longer to calm the harpy down but that doesn't seem the case when it looked so innocently at you after you finished bandaging it.

You knew that this was a monster. But right now rather than a wild monster it was more tamed and rather than you fearing him it feared you even more. But work is work, and this was a job that you must do. Your kindness was till this point cause rather than sending the harpy back to the farm still bleeding you prefer that the bird got bandaged up.

Less mess.

"There you go.." you whispered to the male harpy as you slowly backed away from him. He looked at the bandaged wing in wonder, examining it. He then looked at you curiously as to why you would help him.

Harpy feathers, depending on the color and quality can go for a lot of money even more if it was the whole wing itself. A lot of humans search for such monsters wanting to capture them if they were wild creatures. You knew that yourself, when you were helping the creature you knew that this particular harpy has definitely been hunted young or bred and then sold by the farm for his beautiful feathers.

You shrugged at his actions. "You are hurt." You whispered at it wondering if it would actually understand what you said while some harpies from what you heard can speak human language; this one in particular didn't seem to be able to do so much. Moments like these you thought of those books where the main character would tell the monster to run away and that this was its chance to do so but that wasn't you. You needed him back at that farm.

"Th-thank you..."

You were taken back a little when you heard the monster's voice looking up at him. "Huh...?" "T-thank you."

...You weren't able to stand his genuine yet still mildly confused eyes, choosing to look away. As you headed out of the cave not looking back, sure that the harpy would not come back to attack you. For once you felt guilty. You took a moment to collect yourself ready to get him to the farm when you heard bushes rustle. Pulling out your dagger you were ready to attack when you saw the same farmer this morning along with someone else.

"You are here! Good that we found you! The hunter here was able to land a shot on the harpy's thigh again while it was escaping from him and we followed the blood." The farmer told you, also saying something about his part in the farm work being finished, that he was able to come here and help.

You told them that the harpy they were looking for was inside the cave and that there were no other exits other than here. You told them you bandaged up the monster but it still should not be able to move much. "Thanks a bunch! You are a lifesaver." The farmer continued, "You head back to the farm, we will take care of everything here."

Looking back as they entered the cave you wondered if this counted as betrayal. You weren't sure, but rather than mulling it over you left the place.

From what you have heard the farmer and hunter were able to successfully get the harpy back to the farm. After that trip to the forest, you had a few odd jobs here and there on the farm, not a lot of dealing with the monsters as you need to be specially trained for most of those kinds of work but more so packaging the raw materials and loading them up on the carts to be shipped.

You didn't know that something started to follow you ever since that day. Eyes watching you as you move cans of milk from one side to another, or move and clean the wool shaved off from the weresheeps. Maybe if you noticed those eyes you would have done something about it, but you didn't and by the time you realized it was far too late.

It was one of those small clearings, the bell rang signaling a break for lunch. Under the tree, it shaded you away from the sun you sat to eat your sandwich that the farm provided. The sun was so hot against your skin that it made you work quite a sweat.

"Care if I join you?" The gruff voice made you jump in surprise as you looked to your side to see the same man you saw who was together with the farmer in the forest. It was the hunter you thought to yourself as you gave him a place to sit. 

"Hey, thanks for the help last time. Because of you the harpy had his guard lowered and we were able to capture him without much of a problem. That guy is a little smart for its own good." The hunter introduced himself, stating that he was also an adventurer like you but would help this farm often when they needed some hands as he was friends with the owner.

You chatted for a while, and you found out that the hunter was a married man with a daughter and a wife who was pregnant with another child. "My daughter is a pretty girl. She also wants to become an adventurer like me. I should introduce the two of you when we have the chance" The hunter joked that it would be nice that his little daughter had a lady who she could look up to.

The hunter looked excited as he also had another daughter and told you how he could not help but spoil his daughter whenever he could. He was hoping that he will have another daughter but his wife wished it would be a boy instead. The hunter, while intimidating looking, was actually more easygoing and casual.

"Oop! That is the bell." You heard the rattle of the bell notifying everyone that you guys need to head back to work. "You have been working here for a bit. How long are you staying?" The hunter asked curiously. You told him that today was your last day, that everything here was under control now. "Ahh, then it is back to the quest for you I guess. Hahah! Well. It was nice to meet ya." The hunter also stated that you guys might see each other probably on another mission or at the guild.

Getting up first, he took his leave having something to do leaving you alone under the tree again. Before getting up you quickly checked your mouth for any crumbs or food that was stuck. Grabbing your mirror from your bag you also checked your teeth. When your name was called by one of the farmers, you hurried. Getting up you shoved your compact mirror into your bag but were unable to properly close your bag being in a hurry.

You didn't see your small compact mirror fall out from your bag, hitting the grass floor as you head inside with the farmer. 

When you came back later to look for the mirror after finding out that it was not in your bag you could not find it anywhere...

More precisely it has been swatted away by a certain harpy who was watching you. Keeping the thing close to their chest, with a flush look on their face hoping that he would not be caught yet at the same time hoping he would just so that you would look at him again. But he can't at least not yet.

You finally went back home, after the last long day of working at the barn. Your pay was a little more than the contract, as the owner was generous from the booming business right now. You were ready to hit the bed and after a shower and a lovely dinner, you flopped on your bed.

Your body was relaxed, as you slowly went to dreamland when you suddenly heard a noise outside your window. Opening your eyes you moved to get ready, but you were too slow when the window opened and a black feathered monster rushed in jumping on top of you.

You struggled, but claws caught your arms preventing you from hitting anyone or even getting your dagger from your table side. "Mate!" You heard a chirp and looked up to get a good look at the thing that had you on its hold.

Your eyes widen and your body froze.

You recognize him, the harpy that you bandaged up on the first day of work at the barn. The black feathers and the awkward voice still struggle to follow human speech. Yet unlike before rather than cautious and feral, he was more ecstatic and eager to see you. Impatiently moving your arms as he wrapped his wings around you as if it was trying to hug you.

"Accept.... shiny g-gift... from mate..." His words were hesitant and slow in between chirps. But he wasn't shy, not with how shamelessly he clung to you. Cuddling so tightly as if to get the scent of him on you, rubbing his face under your neck while looking at you with hearts in his eyes when you looked down at him in surprise. "Mate likes... me!"

"What!?" You yelled in confusion, as you tried to shove him away to no avail. There was something wet on his shoulders and chest, something that you could not see properly in the darkness till your eye finally got used to the night. You were terrified.

You could not help but squeak when you saw it. The scent that you smelled from the harpy when he suddenly showed up did you finally understand what that red liquid on his face actually meant. His claws held your wrist preventing you from pushing away. The more you tried to leave the more tight his claws around you became. The heart in his eyes dimmed as he didn't understand why you were trying to push away from him.

"Why...why are you... why are you avoiding me." His voice was angry, a growl-like chirp produced as he forced you back to the bed. You didn't answer yet he followed your eyes and noticed you were looking at the blood on his cheek.

"Hunter... want to kill... me." He glared at you causing you to flinch. Looking away from him to your room, your weapons were too far away for you to grab and swat the harpy away. Regret as you didn't keep at least your dagger close to you. "Hunter... want to kill you... I.... save... you."

Your body felt as if it was growing cold as the harpy chirped in delight. His love-filled eyes back as he thought that you now understand and that you would love him back for doing the same favor for you after you saved him. 

The hunter did not want to kill you. You knew at least that much. Yet that same man was killed by the very harpy that he hunted, the one that you have helped.

“I… save you. I love… you. You love me.”

[yandere-sins]

Monstober - Day 4: Harpy

I have a strange relationship with harpies. I really like them, especially since they are the mythical equivalent to my favorite animal—vultures—but also I guess they actually manage to horrify me for some reason... Ah, well, luckily I get a chance to write for them in this challenge :D

Prompt: Day 4: Harpy | Cliff // Flying // Illusion Warnings: Yandere, Fem!Reader, Implied Sexual Actions, Violence (Swearing, Implied Murder, Implied Death, Implied Animal Cruelty, Hunting, Animal/Monster Fighting), Monsters + Descriptions of Monsters, Long Post

"Be careful now, young'un. There's harpies roaming these fields."

Resting your head back, you let the hood of your cape free up some of your sight heavenwards. You watched the clamor of harpies flying high above the field you and the mercenary were crossing through. They were so far away they looked like little specks of feathers against the grey skies.

"Fuckin' breeding season. Every year it's the same shit. They just wait for some poor farmer's son to come out and whisk him away, fuck him till he's sucked dry, and eat him afterward."

Your lips curled into a small smile at the sound of the mercenary's foul choice of words. Although you didn't hire him for his raggedness or the threat of some usually easily slain harpies, you began to appreciate his no-shit attitude the longer you traveled together.

"By that logic, wouldn't you be more in danger?" you asked, referring to the difference in gender you two had. If the harpies were lusting after young men, then you, as a woman, had less to fear, you figured. But at the same time, with his grey hair and long beard, he probably wasn't on the dinner schedule either.

"Don't be so sure about that, young'un. I've seen beasts that were clearly lasses but had pricks closer to that of giants than any man has. Likewise, male monsters tend to prefer to hunt scarier prey than frail women like those from the villages where everyone is skin and bones except the workers. And they keep them as trophies and pets, doing unspeakable things to the men—and have the man do things to them. Monsters are not always what they seem."

"Why would they need a human then?" you questioned his words, but the mercenary only shrugged.

"Maybe they find their own as ugly as we think 'em to be."

You grimaced, unsure how to react to that information. You had always been sheltered by your family, not quite royalty, but wealthy enough that you'd be married off against your will unless you escaped far out of their reach. Luckily, your jewels and gold chains had managed to buy you a decent mercenary to help with your plans of running, finding a new home, and a new life far away from the expectancies.

"Why aren't they attacking us then? Surely, they see us."

"My, you have lotsa questions, young'un. You can't rationalize those monsters. Maybe they like other prey. Maybe they are just waiting for the right moment. Don't worry your pretty head off about why or why not, just enjoy not being eaten."

He clicked his tongue, spurning his horse forward, and you followed, worry tensing your back as you looked up again, noticing how the clamor now seemed much closer. You could even see individual feathers in the mass now. It was questionable whether drawing more attention with faster movement was a good idea. Still, you wanted to trust the mercenary and his years of experience.

"We're close now!" he yelled back to you. "Into the forest, and we'll be out of their sight!"

Pushing your heels into the side of your steed, you two fell into a speedy gallop. The hood of your coat kept falling over your eyes, but you tried your best to stay focused and keep up with your guide and protector. All you had to do to overcome this first hurdle was reach the forest, and you were so close to it, you could already smell the wood.

That was until the sudden sound of screams ahead of you made you push your hood off completely, just in time to see the silver of the mercenary's breastplate sparkling in the light as he wildly squirmed in the grasp of an enormous monster. He was yelling loudly, only drowned out by shrieking and cackling. Another feathery creature swooped down, and it was his horse next that was carried off, neighing and crying out helplessly, your breath hitching with panic as you rammed your heels into your own stead.

You were so close to the woods when a massive bird passed by just in front of your horse, the animal rearing upwards. You tried desperately to hold on, but when something gripped the horse by the neck, a sharp claw grazing your face, you lost your hold out of surprise, your body falling freely to the ground while your poor stead was carried off mercilessly.

Your head pounded with pain as it hit the dirty field, your bones aching as they tried to feather your fall. But luckily, you were pumped with adrenaline, sitting up before you even realized how much it hurt, blood dripping from your cheek.

"Hi."

The woman standing before you smiled, her eyes unblinking as her lips curled upwards. Your whole body halted in its tracks, your breath stopping. You felt yourself relax at the sight of her and then stiffen up completely, goosebumps pebbling your skin as you forced yourself to realize this couldn't be. Whatever she was, she wasn't human, appearing so suddenly. Instead, she must have been an illusion of the harpies—one of them.

She was, at best, a few steps away from you, at worse, too close to be able to escape. Her head cocked to the side just a little too far to be natural as she regarded you on the ground with unbreakable calm. The peace of a predator, someone who wasn't worried about getting hurt. Silently, you cursed your family for denying you to learn how to wield a sword or dagger. Any kind of self-defense, really. "It wouldn't be necessary," well, now it was. There were no signs of the chaos that had just unfolded, the sounds reduced to the wind softly swaying through the early sprigs of oats growing on the fields.

Don't answer, you cautioned yourself, knowing the best survival tactics when dealing with monsters was not dealing with monsters. You were already pretty vulnerable to the creature as it was; you didn't need to agitate her.

"Clever, are we?" she said, her lips splitting to reveal the teeth of the creatures you were most afraid of all of a sudden. Apparently, the harpies were not disinterested in you, something the mercenary probably hadn't thought about as he led you directly through their flock.

"And so pretty," the harpy chirped, her eyes raking over you as she cocked her head to the other side in a snap. "Want to go to the forest? You can."

Suspicion raised inside of you at her offer. Letting you go so easily? Even if she didn't want to take you away for mating, shouldn't her kind be interested in eating you?

"You'll let me go?" you asked, only realizing your mistake when it was too late, and you slammed your hand over your mouth. The harpies grin only widened, her mouth tearing open unnaturally wide.

"Yes, you can go. A darling girl like you shouldn't be around my sisters. They'd love to taste you."

Your chest was heaving heavily with panic as she spoke. You heard her coo sweetly as she watched you, her gaze dropping from your face all the way to your legs as if she were trying to rip you open and spill your guts with just her eyes. Delighted by the sight, hungry. And you felt so vulnerable under the scrutiny, her eyes on you beyond any look anyone had ever given you, dripping with her full attention and desire.

"Come back sometimes, okay? Let's play together? You're so pretty..."

You gulped. Never before had you heard the tale of a harpy letting someone go because they thought they were pretty. You dared to glance by her, looking at the woods that waited for you behind her form. It was so close, perhaps ten footsteps away, before you breached the edge of the forest.

With your breath escaping you, you staggered to your feet, trying to always keep your eyes on her. You stopped mid-movement as you heard the shuffling of her clothes. Clothes that you realized weren't from fabric at all. Just her convincingly placed feathers. It was scary how well she could imitate an ordinary woman if not for her sharp mannerisms and the way she fixated on you strangely. However, someone less aware and less familiar with the threat of harpies could have easily overlooked these features. Fallen for her illusion that only now started to dissolve as she began reacting to you.

Her wings appeared like a brown dress on her, with a mantle over her shoulders to cover up her lack of arms. Her legs were hidden well beneath the "skirt," and her brown locks perfectly framed what could pass as a pretty face in the city you were from. That was until she opened her mouth to shatter that facade.

"What?" she asked. "Do you think I'm pretty, too?"

It felt wrong to agree and give her more of your time than necessary. If she was well-disposed now, you didn't want to draw her ire. But at the same time, not answering seemed like it would cause her mood to sour, too. This time, instead of speaking, you nodded hesitantly, then firmly.

"Ah, I'm glad!" she hooted, and her "clothes" fluttered with excitement, feathers spreading outwards and destroying the illusion of her wings being garments. Something changed right before your eyes, but you couldn't pinpoint it. Even so, you were no longer fooled by her looks. She really was a monster before all else.

"Go," she cooed, leaning forward and hovering above you, her body now appearing much taller than before. "Before I keep you all to myself, you sweet, sweet thing."

Slowly, avoiding harsh movements, you finally came to a complete stand, realizing you were still at least three heads smaller than the harpy. You wouldn't let her out of your sight, and neither did she, you, as you began rounding her at a respectable distance. It wasn't enough distance to make you feel comfortable, as she could probably close it faster than anything else you knew. But it was your best bet.

She lets me go, just like that? you thought, still in disbelief. Feels like a trap.

But soon enough, your back was turned to the forest. A forest that, presumably, would keep you safe from the harpies if the words of the dead mercenary could still be trusted. He misjudged the situation once, but what were you supposed to do? Between the trees, you at least had the size advantage. Her wings fluttered again as she watched, cocking her head, hooting softly. Not moving from her spot.

Five more steps.

Four.

Three—

Your attention snapped away from her the second you heard the shriek of another monster approaching you from the side. You tumbled to the ground, feeling the force of the gust of wind its wings produced as you were thrown further away from the forest and onto the field, claws scratching you, ripping wounds into your sides. There was a match of voices as even more shrieking and hissing erupted, and you buried face down into the mud, shielding your head with your arms as movement and sounds accumulated right above you.

There must have been more than two harpies fighting above you, but you couldn't determine how many there were from your position. All you knew was that their claws sliced through the air just above your back, every one of them trying to get to you. Every one so close to hurting you—or worse.

"MINE!" one of them roared, and more shrieking occurred as a heavy, clawed foot landed on top of your back, pinning you to the dirty ground and pushing the air out of your lungs. "SHE'S MINE!"

The protest was apparent in the cacophony of sounds directed at the harpy above you, but the tumultuous movements slowly disappeared, only one body remaining. And suddenly, everything went dark, the foot on top of you slipping off until two feet were stomped into the ground on each of your sides.

You dared open your eyes again, trying to see what had happened and gauge how dead you were, but it was way too dark to see. A shudder went through what was blocking out the light, feathers fluttering aside just enough to let a spot of light in and show you were still on the dirty field. It made you realize that something was above you, shielding and enveloping you with its body.

"MINE!" the harpy shrieked again, the sound not directed at you, but it still shook your bones. "Mine," she repeated, this time calmer. You couldn't see, couldn't hear what was going on outside. But when her voice calmed, you could finally recognize it as that of the harpy you had spoken to. Even if her shrieks and caws were barely discernable to you, her voice remained the same.

She squawked a few more times into the direction of who knows where, your nerves completely blank as they couldn't get accustomed to the sounds, but now that the situation was calming down, the pain set in again, and you cursed it, willing it away only for it to blow up again inside of you.

Groaning, you braced yourself onto your arms, trying to lift from the ground, only to be met with the sharp sting of your sliced-up side. The wound was deeper than it had felt at first, and you let out a pitiful howl as you agitated it accidentally. You reckoned that your body was not okay after that attack, and you couldn't fathom how anyone could survive and mate these creatures when their claws did so much damage easily.

Turning onto your healthy side was the only thing you could think of to alleviate the pain temporarily, although the movement hurt so much more than if you had remained on your stomach.

"Oh no," the harpy cooed from above, and you spared her a glance from the one eye that was turned upwards. Her wings unfolded from each other, opening enough for her twisted neck to see through the gap, letting in some light and exposing her grotesque but real form. The legs of a bird, feathery and gnarly, the torso of a woman, and the face was a mix of both. No arms, just wings sprouting from her shoulders, and her hair a mess of feathers and twigs, nothing like the beautiful illusion she had shown you before.

"Poor, poor girl," she hooted, her expression ever so slightly drawing together in a meager display of unhappiness. "My sisters are so mean, aren't they? You were just trying to go to the forest."

You didn't acknowledge her with words as you bit your lip to stifle another sorrowful moan. Still, your body contorted, causing you to cry out in pain.

The harpy moved around you, circling you as she watched you restlessly, sweat and tears falling from your face as you couldn't even stop the bleeding with your hands full of grime and dirt. She danced around you awkwardly, keeping her wings up like a shield but letting in enough light to watch.

"You can't go like this now, can you? Can you? Poor, poor, pretty thing."

You heard her sigh, sounding oddly human, then she leaned down, poking you with the top of her wing where the bone spread to form the limb. Shockwaves of pain went through you as she agitated the wound by moving you, and you sobbed into the dirt, not knowing what to do. You couldn't communicate with her, couldn't tell her to fetch you a doctor. But if you stayed here like this, you'd probably be eaten sooner rather than later, and not unlikely by her.

Even as you cried, you used what little strength you had to sit up. The pain was unbearable, even as you clenched your jaws together tightly. But you were grateful when you felt one of her wings sweep beneath your back, helping you up even if it hurt.

"I need to stand up," you explained through sobs and cries of pain, and she hooted in understanding, lending you the firm part of her wings again to hold onto. She wasn't very deft in how much strength of hers you needed to be supported, but she tried to help—she, a monster. The situation was beyond strange and unimaginable, yet you almost felt some gratitude towards her.

"I need..." you gasped as you finally got to your legs. Pain was stealing your air, your mind twirling, and every thought getting more challenging to form. You stumbled backward, but her body caught you, steadied yours with hers. Dizziness raked at your conscience, the blood loss taking its toll. "A doctor. I need... a doctor..."

"Doctor?" she hooted questioningly. "What's a doctor?"

"A human who helps... injured humans. Medizin..."

"Huh?" With her elongated neck, she could easily look at your face even from behind you, but you didn't dare to look up to see how unnaturally she twisted her head back and forth, as she didn't understand. It wasn't that far off that harpies probably didn't help each other heal. They seemed more of the... cannibalistic type when one of them was weak.

"I need... help. I'm sick."

"Oh."

Finally, she seemed to understand, but unfortunately, instead of helping, she seemed deep in thought when the ground suddenly shook, and you had to grasp her wing tightly to keep your balance.

"Not fair!" another creature squawked, the sound almost shattering your eardrums coming from right in front of you. The ground shook even more as more of them landed, confronting their sister and you.

"Not fair! We want the human, too!"

"No!" the harpy at your back barked at them. "She's mine."

"She's not your mate!" they complained. "She's weak and bleeding! As good as dead!"

The harpies fell into a cacophony of chants, some saying "Dead Human!" in unison while the others shrieked, "Eat! Eat! Eat!"

"NO!" the harpy bellowed, shutting the others up fast. You were shocked by the vibrations of her body at your back, but it almost made you smile a little. What a stupid monster without a reason to be this protective. And yet she kept fighting for you.

"Then... she's a mate?" one of the harpies asked, sounding at her wit's end. The other hooted along to the statement, questioning your protector.

"Yes," she announced firmly, and this time, you did wrench your head upwards. She met your gaze with resolution, adding, "She's my mate. I have decided."

"Wha—?" you managed to wring out when one of her feet suddenly dug beneath your arms, clawed toes wrapping around your upper torso. You groaned in pain even though they didn't touch the wound directly as she placed them with intentions, but before you could complain, your feet lifted up from the ground, and you were just beneath the clouds faster than you could speak.

"Wait!" you screamed, struggling only to be hit with more pain.

"Where are you bringing me?" you asked, much quieter now that the situation finally dawned on you. The harpy tugged her legs in, supporting you with the free one beneath your thighs and giving you a place to sit on while also smushing you lightly against her feathery bottoms.

"To the nest. You said you are hurt, so I must clean your wounds, mate. Need to find herbs and food for you. Maybe there's some left from the hunt earlier. Flesh. You are too skinny."

"But... I'm not even your mate! We're both girls!" you complained heavenward, and she clucked, almost as if she was laughing.

"That makes no difference. You are my mate, I have decided."

"Do I get a chance to decide?" you whined, and for a moment, her wings stopped beating, the flight turning into a glide.

Her neck twisted, face turning back to look at you, and your wounds pounded angrily as her grip tightened.

"You are wounded. Do you want to be eaten?"

You gulped. That sounded much like your previous assumptions that harpies were not usually taken on duties to care for others.

"N-No?" you answered truthfully, but it sounded like a question anyway. Perhaps death was better than whatever "mate" was.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, she turned forward again, resuming her flight.

"Then you are my mate now. You'll like the nest. We can soften it together, and then we can create young. You'll stay there and heal, and I'll bring you food and gather pretty things for my pretty mate."

She looked down again, and her lips split in an upside-down grin, so very similar to that of her human form. She seemed almost... happy. You swallowed hard as she revealed her plans, unable to come up with anything that would change her mind and not drop you from this height. What else was there but to comply with her—for now? Maybe once you were healed and back on steady ground, you could escape her and still make the run you had planned to make anyway. Just now, you had your own family and a monster gnawing at your heels. At least you'd be safe for now, you hoped.

Hearing no complaints from you, her grin widened even more, feathers puffing as if she was proud of her accomplishments.

"My mate," she cooed, and the clouds cleared up, revealing the sundown over the ocean, a couple hundred more harpies squealing and screeching beneath you as you two made your way towards the cliffside. It was too close to the city you used to live in. Back to point zero, now with an additional struggle to manage. But at least here, they'd have a hard time finding you and perhaps an even harder time retrieving you while you could plan your next moves.

It wasn't what you had imagined when you ran away, but you'd have to do with it for now.

Your new home.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

where the birds and fish gather

A/n: my silly fish and bird hybrids! Few sexual references but mdni! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ASK ABOUT ANY OF THEM I'M DESOERATE FOR ASKS- ignore my grammar haha

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ︶︶︶︶༉‧ ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- ︶︶︶︶༉‧

★ sydney the cockatoo

sydney's the most mischievous bastard out of all of them. Your watch is missing? In his nest. Your necklace? His nest aswell. Your hat? He's wearing it. You're never getting it back. He sees something shiny, it's in his little claws. Like all the avian hybrids, his arms are wings and he's covered in feathers. Having a human face with little beak like lips. His legs are bird legs. Black eyes staring at you from his nest in a tree. Be careful where you step after any surprise snow in's. He's probably burying himself in it. 5'4

★ Evangeline the peahen

The elegant, sophisticated, coy, angelic Evangeline. Gabriel's mate but she despises his guts, similar to princess, she much prefers you. Often dragging you to their nest and squabbling with Gabriel when he tried taking you away. She may not be as pretty as he is outside, but she certainly is Inside. Proudly showing off her brown little feathers. 5'6 brown straight hair, black eyes and a little pale

★ gabriel the white peacock

Egotistical bastard. He hates his wife for being so ugly, but he does think you are extraordinarily beautiful. He could definitely envision putting his clutch inside you. He'll figure a way out, don't you worry! An albino peacock male with red eyes, white feathers and extremely pale. 5'7

★ fajarah the ring necked parakeet

she's sydney's little partner in crime, but lately she's mellowed out more. Now preferring to watch the koi mers swim around and munch on some chips she stole from the main house. Tilting her head curiously at something she finds interesting. Bright green feathers and hair, black eyes and tan skin. 5'2

★ foolish the owl finch

often seen in the fields with the cows and bulls, he's quiet and prefers to watch. Hopping around quickly and pecking things that catch his eye. There's not much to say about him since he keeps to himself alot, but he does seem to like the biscuits you bring for him.

★ simon the tyto alba

Simon is deaf and mute, having been found wandering around the farm as a little chick. Now the farmers are looking for any way to help him with his hearing long term, but he seems to have adjusted to looking for any vibrations on the ground. Pale and white hair,black eyes, very pointy beak like lips

★ the koimer quintuplets

There's nothing much different between the quintuplets except their different patterns. Just that tancho is the leader and more mature, Kiko is more curious and childish, Hime is sweet and reserved, tsu is a chatterbox and humble, koromo is loud and nosy

★ mason the "lake monster" (crocodile)

Mason is like an older brother figure for the quintuplets, teaching them Little bits of English and watching you interact with them from the depths of the lake or hidden behind some underwater trees in the lake. You may not always see him, but he's always there. Silently watching. Messy grungy hair, green eyes, and has a light tan. 6'4

[moonshine-nightlight]

Courtship Confusion: Part One

You’ve been working with your siren partner for a couple years now. A consummate flirt, you’d initially been put off by his whole charming deal, somehow he's become your best friend. You’ve been wanting to see if he’s still interested in dating, but unfortunately he’s not picking up your hints. A pair of visiting cubi remind you of the cultural differences that come with interspecies dating. Maybe you’ve both been misunderstanding each other. Maybe it’s time you set the record straight.

Modern Fantasy, friends to lovers, siren/harpy, male monster x reader, Part 1 of 8

Ao3: Courtship Confusion Chapter 1

Part One

“Start blocking the exits, people. They’re making a run for it. Team Lure, you’re up,” the static-y voice says from your radio.

“Confirmed. Lure moving into position,” you answer for yourself and your partner before clipping the walkie talkie back onto your belt. You glance over to your partner who, per usual, looks far too unconcerned and cheerful for the mission of stopping a crew of smugglers. “Where do you want to set up?”

Morgan grins at you, sharp white teeth flashing even in this dim warehouse. “You know where.”

You stifle a grin of your own, knowing one of you needs to remain professional, and roll your eyes instead. “Wherever you can be the center of attention, right.”

He preens as he fluffs out his feathers. You only asked once how exactly his wings can go from resting comfortably and unobtrusively on his back, hardly seeming to take up any space at all, to a full wingspan that was enough to carry him. The highly technical arcane answer he’d given had been enough to serve as a reminder that, despite his carefree attitude, he was a fully licensed arcanist and make sure you never asked again. You’re the investigator and rules side of your inspector partnership—Morgan was the technical and social side. You liked it that way.

A career as an investigator of potentially illegal arcane workings isn’t nearly as glamorous or exciting as most people think it is. Most of the time it was just about handing out fines to people dabbling in things they shouldn’t and accidentally flooding their apartments or conjuring too many hamsters. But, sometimes, like today, you end up having to bust an illegal coven.

When containment spells failed and the criminals scattered, it’s your job to pull them all back. Well, mainly Morgan’s job.

From his high quality suit to his expertly applied eyeliner, he didn’t look the least bit like an inspector. Even the other department arcanists didn’t have his flare. Lively and cheerful where most were bored and weary, he breathed life wherever he went. And he loved to show off.

As you enter the large open area of the warehouse, you quickly begin setting up the broadcasting equipment—probably not needed, but protocol—while Morgan picks his spot. Within a few seconds, your carefully managed set up, ready to unfold for fieldwork in record time, is ready to go. You’re long practiced after being partnered these last couple of years.

Looking up, you find Morgan spreading his gorgeous black and white wings to alight on a stack of old pallets the cult left in this warehouse they’d been using as their base putting him several feet above everyone else.

“Careful!” you call despite knowing it's a lost cause.

Morgan flicks his wings in a careless, shrug-like gesture. “Worrywart,” he teases. You only have to give him a look to remind him of the incident with the ice for him to pout, the dark red of his lipstick making the expression obvious even with the height and distance. “That was one time! Are you set up?”

His voice is easily audible, as always, but you have to raise yours to reply, “Yeah, ready to go.”

He looks at you expectantly.

You put your hands on your hips to communicate ‘really? Do we need to do this every time?’ and he grins in response.

“Let the show begin!” you grudgingly prompt.

He’s no longer a performer by profession, but you can’t deny that's who he is in his heart. It’s hard to begrudge him the little bow he gives. Not when his eyes glitter with simple glee as he does so. “Thank you, darling.” Morgan clears his throat and closes his eyes, thankfully keeping him from noticing the effect the endearment had on you. Regrettably, the effect of him calling you “darling” to you has only gotten stronger with time.

Before you can dwell on it, Morgan makes a sort of clicking noise in the back of his throat. He’s tried to explain to you once why all of his songs started that way, but you’ve never truly understood. Not that it really matters because it’s always followed by him opening his mouth to sing.

A beautiful wordless melody begins to flow from him.

Haunting and alluring on its own, you know his siren song must be far more potent to the criminals he’s purposely luring back here. Every member of the team was introduced to Morgan before the operation began, so Morgan was able to exempt them. His control is impeccable, but they’re still liable to get distracted. Nothing magical about that. It’s hard not to when a master like Morgan sings.

Morgan primarily sings in the siren’s language when he performs spells such as this one. He says that for spellwork there’s simply more nuance and specificity in Soprety than in any other language when it comes to the subject of things such as lures, madness, lullaby and so on.

Despite knowing very little of the language, you still understand the message the song is trying to convey: where are you going? Come back, join me, this is where true happiness lies. Such is the power of a siren’s song. It’s hard to articulate the difference between the magical pull of a compulsion and the mere auditory pull of Morgan’s smooth voice. He’s never truly tried to compel you, but each time you hear him you have to put effort into focusing, into not simply basking in his voice. That’s only gotten worse the longer you’ve known him too, the more times you’ve heard him.

You don’t think it's that his singing is better, it’s only that it had seemed in the beginning, despite it’s obvious beauty even that first time, somewhat generic. Artificially or distantly beautiful. Now, his voice is so clearly entwined with who Morgan is, you can’t fathom how you thought it generic initially. His coaxing nature, always ready to persuade you to follow his lead, is woven through the words he sings as clearly as it is when he tries to convince you to take a coffee break. His promise of something better, something more fun and entertaining, if you only would listen. Of course, in this case, the outcome will only be entertaining for him. His seductive way of complimenting those he wants so that they will make the best choice by choosing him.

The music he makes is all very compelling is the point. You huff and focus back on the messages from the team—text since they’ve all got ear plugs in and don’t want to interfere with Morgan’s spell.  You don’t need the plugs, as his partner he can exempt you easily and you’ve practice functioning while he sings. Besides it's always good to have someone who can hear him in case he does need help. You check again to confirm how many you are nabbing. Seven, natural for a coven, even a criminal one. That means the rest of the operation didn’t manage to catch a single member.

Usually illegal covens are more subtle, caught due to smaller disturbances or the wrong people stumbling upon them on the wrong night. This crew has been smuggling truly nasty ingredients for dark magical spells, bewitching or killing anyone who tried to interfere. They’d been making a big enough splash despite their travels and have caught major heat by now.

The National Investigatory Agency has been tracking them. They followed the trail of memory loss and death they left in their wake. That’s not even mentioning the longer term problems that would impact a community after they’d traded their illegal and dangerous wares—increases in love potions, poisoning, and general curses. You’d managed to catch a break locally. Someone had lost their nerve about this year’s shipment in your city and your department was coordinating with the NIA for this capture. Well, at least your team was—truthfully most of the local office was just providing backup.

Morgan, as always, had a habit of disrupting the usual with just his presence. His skills had been enough to catch the head NIA officer’s attention and your captain had vouched for your effectiveness. As such, while NIA coordinated a wide-spread tracking net, your team would try to simply pull them back. It was a common enough play you two ran and this was no different.

There was some worry a witch might have protection, but most aren’t prepared for a siren song, not given how rare sirens are and especially inland. Besides, you’d unclicked the safety on your tranquilizer gun, that’s why you were here to watch Morgan’s back. He’d be pissed if you let someone interrupt his song.

Movement on your left draws your attention. A woman stumbles out from between to shipping crates, her expression muddled but searching, urgent. You check for the signs she’s ensnared as she walks closer. You’re only supposed to handle the ones who weren’t, so you let her approach once you’re convinced. When she spots Morgan, high on his perch and singing his heart out, a look of joy and greed takes over. She hurries towards him.

You wait a second before nudging a fellow officer with your boot. A transfer from another precinct, he’s not been involved in one of these operations before. He shakes himself, tearing his eyes away from Morgan to look at you. You jerk your head at the coven member and he blushes. Hastily pulling out his handcuffs, the orc goes to secure her while you train your tranq gun on the man darting out from a different doorway. This time an NIA member snags him before he can press up against the base crate Morgan’s on, for which you’re grateful.

Technically, Morgan should have crafted his spell so that the listeners won’t be too desperate to get to him, despite how he was enticing them. People will still react differently than each other so there’s no guarantee when trying to pull in a group like this. Morgan said that the more people, the less control he had over anything more than the base aim of the spell. A lullaby could put ten people to sleep, but they would likely all end up sleeping for different amounts, whereas if it was just one or two, he could control how long they slept for.

Similar thing here. He can pull them in and do his best to keep them calm, but there’s more margin for error. And Morgan’s one of the best there is. Arcane workings are always more complicated and nuanced than most people assume. If they weren’t, you’d be out of a job making sure any mistakes or malicious workings didn’t hurt anyone.

There’s a text that the NIA agents caught a pair on their own, meaning three more to go. It’s not long for them to join the others. The officers who are familiar with these types of stings are efficient, cuffing the ensnared with practiced ease.

You wait for the confirmation, all using sign language to confirm the criminals are secured. That’s your cue to whistle, two fingers in your mouth and loud enough to cut through Morgan’s song—you’ve had to practice. The whistle lets Morgan know you had them all and he flips his hand to show he’s heard. He’d never just cut off the song—for specific arcane reasons, but also because he considers it poor etiquette from a musician’s perspective. He carefully and artfully wraps up and slows down, gentling the song until it fades out.

You can’t help but feel as enraptured as the criminals are, although you try to hide it. It's too hard not to when you’re in love with him.

[whereserpentswalk]

Humans sometimes wonder what separates them from other races like elves and dwarves and orcs, like what makes them unique. Some people say humans are generalists, some people say we're the most adaptable. But actually there is something that stands out about us that all the other races find super weird. Humans are the only sentient creature to reproduce sexually like animals do, and because of that we're the only species with romantic or sexual attraction, and ideas like sex and gender.

Elves and dwarves create new members of their races slowly and methodically, like works of art. Harpies, angels, demons and dragons are all individually and personally created by their gods. Orcs and goblins are spawned from spawning pits on mass. Merfolk come close with how they lay and fertilize eggs, but even then any individual merfolk can both lay eggs and fertilize, and they don't meet when they do it. Vampires and other undead are spawned from other races. Fae just sort of show up.

So the idea of having sexes, and genders constructed around them, and sexual and romantic relationships is all incredibly weird for other races. Most humans don't notice it because they just naturally assign members of other races genders when they meet them.

Diffrent races have diffrent ideas around these constructs. But most of them find it some level of confusing. A lot of them just ignore it. But it's really disturbing for some, romantic relationships seem like weird bonds that can't be explained, like some sort of unexplainable and volatile connection. Sexual attraction seems like some dark animalistic instinct. Gender is incomprehensible, and also seems wrong and immoral to most races. And sex itself seem like the darkest of any reproductive ritual or magic. Because of all of this humans who don't experience some or any of these things often have an easier time connecting with other races.

This has also lead scholars to belive that humans are the only sentient race to evolve naturally. Something often thought impossible before studies on humans occurred.

[journey-to-tiger-mountain]

The Tale of Tiger Mountain ch 11: Memories

[Read on Ao3] XiYao // post-canon fix-it // M

Yao quieted himself to pay his respects without a hurry before letting himself admire the shrine further. It was quiet enough to hear the whispering of the candle flames. A delicate wind chime rang softly somewhere above, in a breeze too light to be felt in the restful harmony of the shrine. As if drawn to it, Yao lifted his gaze and found one specific tablet high up, centuries old yet much cherished, a candle of its own lit before it. On the tablet was carved the name Lan Xichen, and as soon as Yao had read it, he was drowned under a suffocating wave of sorrow.

[harpygon]

One night while staying at the Federation headquarters, Cucurucho leads Jaiden towards a door. Behind that door, She finds her dead son. Or does she? (A post abduction q!Jaiden meets A1 fic) Slightly Angsty. Sympathetic Cucurucho bc it‘s written by me. Enjoy :)

[mxwhore]

Idk if you already got this request a while back but ever since I saw your sphinx Martin I would think what about a Harpy Jon to go with him

i hadnt actually! very fun to think about

[2-dsimp]

How would lynx react if I tied him up and teased him by wearing something he likes or just being an teasing asshole to him

Lynx the Harpy Would hate it.

The Singer refuses to be on the receiving end of being tied up under any circumstances. He’s a free birdy and he plans on keeping it that way. Would be extremely fussy and complain a lot should you attempt at tying him up. He’d also demand a lot of compensation for going through such a traumatizing experience.

[deepwaterwritingprompts]

Text: The kingdom by the sea is cruel. A captured mermaid being carried through the castle gates briefly caught the eye of a harpy in a cage above, a glance full of rage and compassion.

[eldritcmor]

DRABBLE

You came back wrong.

It took a while for the team to get back into Las Almas Base. Even then it was a challenge for the Monsters and Hybrids of 141 and Mexican special forces. Gaping maws in the earth filled with drip stone like teeth would suddenly open up beneath their feet. The trees would violently sway in the thunder shrieking winds as fat Heavy rain clouds let loose on the torn soil. All the while they couldn’t get the image of your corpse leaning in the doorway of your cell turned tomb, smiling over Graves’ shoulder as the earth gave way to teeth and blood at your cry.

The vampire had barely had enough to time to turn before concrete slicked into mud. He went tumbling with his thralls into a gaping chasm lined with obsidian fangs. Pain wracked his body as Those under his control were dashed against glass stone. He tried to pull his thralls to him. To call to The piece of his essence in each and every single one. No one came. He growled and tried again. No one. He looked up to the top of the pit only to see your dead eye’s mere inches from his, head cocked to the side as if listening.

A slow creeping smile stretched your pale blue lips, revealing rows of obsidian teeth. Graves barely had the energy to scramble back. He ignored the sting of glass piercing his palms as He pushed himself, further and further from whatever the fuck you were. A wail cried high in the pit and Graves flinched as Your head snapped to the noise. He would never forget the grinding crunch of bone if he made it out of this. Between one blink and the next, you were gone. Nothing but the clicking of volcanic glass in your wake.

Graves gathered himself, breathing harshly. The reports had said you were The 141’s weak link. A fragile human among powerful monsters. He had thought of Turning you into one of his Thralls. Making You a shadow. But, then. Well orders were orders, and Graves was nothing if not decently loyal to the people writing his check.

Shepherd wanted to rile The 141 up. Make them show their true colors. You were just the poor little human, that had wormed your way into the team’s heart.

He had drawn it out, after The transfer of the base went to shit with Ghost, Alejandro, and Soap escaping. Had taken his time with draining your life, drop by drop over the course of several days. Till your dinky little Cell became your tomb. After that it was a waiting game, and He got so tired of waiting. He decided to send a message to entice the 141. You weren’t supposed to come back.

Gaz stared at the massive black maw in the middle of Las Almas base. The place was deadly quiet. Not even the rain seemed to make a sound in the presence of the Obsidian Mouth. This was your doing?

He landed on a crumbled building at just the edge of the pit. He peered down trying to make sense of where shadows ended and black volcanic rock began, when he saw it. Bodies. Lots of Bodies. Twisted, Broken Bodies Lined the lowest points of the pit. Spiked through with Glittering shards of obsidian.

The harpy leaned further, flexing his wings and burying his talons in the concrete of the building to keep himself stable. A little red patch caught his eyes. Graves private little army. Shadows, then. He squinted. Something was off about the bodies though. They were pale. Not lack of sunlight pale. Blood loss pale. He finally let go of his perch and smoothly dropped into a swoop, right into the pit. The temperature hit him first. One would expect a deep maw of rock and earth to be cool maybe even cold. No, it was warm like a furnace, bordering on Hot.

Gaz’s mouth tightened in concentration as he landed next to one of the Shadow bodies. The obsidian had torn the poor thing apart but that didn’t explain the complete blood loss. The harpy kicked at the body. Something was off and Gaz was lost.

“Captain.”

The Dragon’s voice crackled through the radio clipped to his flight harness.

“Yes, Gaz?”

“Do you know any creatures that would drain a thrall dry?”

The captain humphed. “No.”

“Well something did. Every single body in this pit is completely drained.”

“Could be a ritual. We haven’t ruled out possession.”

Gaz flipped the body over. There! A thin channel formed into the glass, almost like someone was melting the glass as they dragged their finger through it.

“No we haven’t. I’ll keep poking around.”

“Be careful, Garrick.”

“Always am, sir.”

The harpy followed the trail. Meeting more and more thin little channels of dried blood. He barely noticed as the ground sloped. Pooling the channels into rivers til finally a deep pool formed at the very bottom of the pit.

Gaz stood at the edge of a massive dip, a single pillar of obsidian erected in the center. The walls of the pit were eating the sky, as Gaz peered up at the sun. The sun? Gaz had flown in under storm and wind. Is this what you saw before you left?

Gaz threw himself into the air. He knew you were long gone. The obsidian maw proved it. The maw’s spewed heat when formed. This one had long cooled. None of the bodies were burned.

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