#i know i should take it anyway because it takes a while to start working

[hellfire-state-of-mind]

Miller Bros Contracting & Car Wash

a/n: this is entirely self-indulgent. there's a car wash near my house called Tommy's Express and it got me thinking about our Miller brothers running one before their contracting business really caught on. any historical inaccuracies are because i did not exist in the 1900s in any capacity. i also didn't have the brainpower to write this into a full-fledged fic. bon appetit.

so it’s around the mid-90s

when Joel and Tommy first started their contracting business, it was really slow drumming up enough work to pay the bills and they needed side work to bring in more income

baby Sarah suggested a car wash after “helping” Uncle Tommy wash the truck in the driveway

said car wash was no more than a little wooden stand at the end of the office’s parking lot with a hose, buckets, and rags and sponges

Tommy primarily did all the washing while Joel was in the office keeping an eye on the phone but he’d come out and pitch in on particularly quiet days (and when Sarah needed to burn off some energy)

Tommy is only ever clad in jean booty shorts and flip flops (no shirt because he’s a slut) and purposefully gets himself soaking wet and sudsy anytime a cute girl drives into the lot

(he has a special mixtape that he plays on such occasions and puts on a little extra show while washing, just squatting and flexing left and right. eventually Sarah learns all the words to both "Baby Got Back" and "Tootsee Roll" and Joel is pissed.)

(Tommy once caught Joel humming in the kitchen and never lets him forget it. “hey Joel, it’s your favorite song”)

anyway

you’re new to Austin

you and your old-ass 1982 Chrysler LeBaron convertible (to quote @maggiemayhemnj) that you got as a teen after earning your driver’s license – you got to pick the car, the only condition was that it had to be used

you roll in one day, long overdue for a wash

Tommy gets himself ready then does a double take after you park and he sees the car

he starts just circling it and inspecting practically every inch – “goddamn, how is this thing still runnin’?”

Joel watches Tommy fanboy over the car a bit from inside the office before poking his head out the door and calling to him to get to work

you play along with Tommy and his flirting – you can’t deny that he’s sexy – but you just can’t stop stealing glances at his older brother through the front window

and after you go inside to pay and Joel tells you to drive safe? you’re a goner

you become their first regular – because Tommy is just so thorough and even put air in your tires one time when they were low, no extra charge – definitely not because of his big brother pretending not to watch the two of you

“there’s my favorite hunk o’ junk!” – Tommy’s go-to greeting

one day you come by and it’s rattling like crazy

you go inside to pay afterwards, as usual, and Joel finally says more than just the polite sendoff – “uh, s’probably not my place to say but you should really get that noise checked out. sounds like it could give out at any second.”

“oh, you could hear that, huh?” “darlin’, you’d have to be deaf not to hear it. jus’ want you to be safe.”

as luck would have it, it craps out just a few days later

you dig out the Miller Bros Contracting & Car Wash business card – the only one you’ve ever kept because it has Joel’s number on it – and walk a couple blocks to the nearest payphone

Joel answers and you’re all anxious and apologetic that you didn’t know who else to call

he just says “i’m on m’way”

you have to resist the urge to curl up and hide when Joel parks his truck in the space next to you and grabs a toolbox out of the bed

you stand off to the side, watching respectfully as he fiddles around under the hood before determining it’s a battery issue

“thought i told you to get it looked at”

“i did but the guy said i need a whole new battery and i just don’t have that kind of money lying around right now”

“how much did he quote you on it?”

however much it was, it’s way too high and Joel knows it – greedy bastards taking advantage of single women who don’t know any better

“tell you what, lemme give you a jump jus’ to get ‘er going and i’ll fix it up for ya”

and he does not take no for an answer - "i ain't leavin' you to deal with any more sleazy mechanics"

you follow him back to his house where he tells you to go ahead and park in the driveway

he opens up the garage and starts grabbing tools when he stops and curses himself, turning to you and rubbing the back of his neck

“i, uh. i'm missing a pretty important part. you're more than welcome to wait here while i go run and get it, i won’t be long.”

you start to protest, he’s done so much for you already, you’re fine with just borrowing their phone book and calling a tow, but Joel is not having it

next thing you know, you’re sat on the living room floor with baby Sarah munching on a bowl of cereal and watching Wakko Warner sing about all 50 united states and their capitals

Tommy finally comes downstairs and sees the two of you hanging out and almost has a heart attack before turning on his Charm

you flirt with each other for a few minutes before he joins his older brother outside

“what’d’ya do to my favorite hunk o’ junk?”

“don’t even think about it”

“what? i didn’t say anything.”

“you were ‘bout to”

“well-”

“if you’re gonna stand there and bother me, at least make yourself useful and hand me that thing”

eventually Joel finishes up and heads inside to see Sarah sprawled halfway across your lap on the floor

“uh…your, uh, you’re good to go. lemme just, uh, take her and i'll see you out.”

the sight of Joel carrying his baby girl up the stairs to her bed is enough spank bank material to last you for weeks

he comes back down and leads you back out to your car, passing Tommy on his way in and he gives you a cheeky wink

your driver’s door is already open with the keys in the ignition so all you have to do is get in and drive away

instead, you stall by trying to offer some money to cover the cost of the parts and Joel shuts you down immediately

“you’ve already given us enough of your money, s’the least i can do”

“well, sure, but i was paying for a service. that's not the same thing.”

“you know what, you actually did me a huge favor by keeping an eye on Sarah for me. so how ‘bout we call it even?”

“okay”

and before you can even think, you step forward and kiss him

and Joel kisses back

you barely pull away and Joel grips your wrist

“what was that for?”

“…your tip?”

he just laughs and leans in, lips not quite touching again

“drive safe, darlin’”

[confessedlyfannish]

Two Years Later

Part One | Part Five (Previous)

The beginning of the end is the cough.

"Hey B, a minute?" Superman calls as the League exits the conference room.

"Oooh, someone's in trouble!" Flash smirks, ducking past Batman.

"Am I? In trouble?" Batman asks dryly as the door closes.

Instead of the classic display of his midwestern "aw shucks" disposition that would have Superman ducking his head and giving an awkward chuckle, the hero simply smiles slightly. Batman cocks his head, instantly on alert.

"Superboy is coming down with something," Superman explains. "Hopefully it won't mess with the surprise, but—"

"Superboy is sick?"

"It's a sore throat, nothing major. But for Friday, we should play it by ear."

"That's fine. Have you taken him to The Fortress?" Batman asks shortly. Superman's shoulders rise and fall.

"It's a cold, B," Superman says patiently. His smile is strained. "He's had them before."

Batman stares him down. "After he started developing powers?"

Superman meets his gaze, uncowed, "I'm not sure," he says pointedly.

"I mean before."

Clark's eyes dart away. "He hadn't had his powers that long before he..." they never really have figured out what to call it. How do you call a kid disappearing for six years when it had only been a couple of weeks to everyone else? Did it count as a disappearance when no one had noticed he was gone, not even the boy in question?

Robin, purposefully insensitive in order to push everyone past it, had taken it to calling it Superboy's vacation. And if he caused a bit of hurt simultaneously by its mere mention, then perhaps that was the boy's way of working out some resentment regarding their sudden age gap. Something the two worked to bridge, but still struggled with.

After Superman had formally asked Batman to stop looking into it (knowing full well he'd continue informally), they'd stopped needing to find a name for it.

"I'd have to double check," Clark admits, powering through. "But we gave him some cough syrup and it's been helping."

"And?" Batman asks, crossing his arms.

"And what?"

"You noticed something. What is it?"

"I hate when you do that," Superman says, not an ounce of ire in his voice. He leans against the conference table, staring out at the vast galaxy before them. "When he was ten, he couldn't take pills. But he took two Tylenol before Lois got him the Robitussin. Dry."

Batman comes to stand next to him. "You have six years of medical history unaccounted for," he points out, as gently as he can while filing that bit of information away. He still remembers the sick look on Kal's face when he'd seen the marks on Jon's skin. "That's why you need to take him to the Fortress."

"He's been back home for two years," Superman says. His reflection's brow furrows. "You don't seriously think he's been incubating some kind of alien virus for two years."

"I think the Fortress will rule it out," Batman says, clamping a firm hand on his shoulder. "Or you could bring him here."

"No," Superman says. "I don't want to freak him out. I'll take him tomorrow. Just..." Batman squeezes once, firmly, before letting him go.

"The robitussin's been helping," he explains for him.

Superman nods. "Yeah. It has."

And he had come to Batman anyway, because even if the cough syrup was working, even if he and Lois wanted to pretend everything was fine, he knew he had to take Jon to the Fortress. But he needed Batman to give him that final push, and Bruce was willing to do so.

"DM?" Batman asks suddenly.

"Hm?"

"Make sure it's robitussin DM. That's the one that actually works for a cough."

"...Will do, B."

--

Initially the Fortress confirms it's a cold, but as the week progresses, Jon's cough only gets worse.

And then a few days later Superman lands in the Batcave. He's supporting a pale Superboy with one arm and has the other wrapped around Lois Lane.

"Batman." His face and tone are forcibly calm but his eyes are wild.

"What happened?" Batman asks, rising from the Batcomputer as Lois comes around Superman's side to help prop Jon up.

"He couldn't breathe," Lois says as they get closer. She hands him a small glass tube. "He hocked that up but the Fortress didn't recognize it besides," she swallows, "besides his blood."

Batman stares at the murky brown substance in the tube. It has a high viscosity, crawling along when he tips the beaker back and forth.

"It's coating his larynx."

Batman pockets the tube and opens the line to the Watchtower. Wonder Woman's face appears on the monitor, on duty today.

"I need you to alert the medbay. I'm bringing Superboy up. Evacuate all nonessential personnel and have anyone left in quarantine gear. Five minutes."

Diana nods, hanging up without a word.

Batman sends a quick comm to the rest of the team and Alfred (most currently at school, thankfully, as it buys him some time), alerting them that the cave is in quarantine. He clicks a fingerprint activated trigger that places a steel wall on either entrance to the cave because his kids are unlikely to listen, and keeps an ear out for the two requisite thuds as the panels descend and a hiss as the artificial oxygen begins to circulate. As they do, he opens an equipment drawer and pulls out two heavy-duty gas masks designed with a Scarecrow attack in mind.

"You're kidding," Lois says when he hands her one.

"Had any symptoms yourself?"

"No!"

"Good. Let's keep it that way."

Jon smiles weakly as Lois grumbles, Batman sliding in easily to replace her as Jon's support when putting the thing on proves to be a two-hand job.

"How are you feeling?" he asks, voice clear despite the respirator attachment custom-made to fit his mask.

"Alright. A little scared," Jon says, voice raspy. Beside him, Superman gets his own mask settled on his face.

"I mean physically," Batman clarifies.

Jon flushes. "Oh. It hurts a bit. Feels heavy. Like I'm swallowing around something." He's breathing very shallowly.

They get him over to the zeta tube and Batman sets the destination. Then he turns to Lois with purpose.

"You should stay here—"

"Absolutely not," she says loudly. "Even if it is contagious I'm already exposed. He's still a minor and I'm his mother and I'm coming."

Jon makes a noise of protest. "Eighteen!" he says, before breaking into a coughing fit, doubling over. Batman holds a handkerchief to his face.

"Fine. Let's go," he says shortly.

"You're okay," Superman murmurs, rubbing Jon's back. His mask hides the bleak expression belying his words, already well aware of what Batman is not saying: if advanced Kryptonian technology doesn't recognize the substance blocking Jon's airways, the Watchtower will likely not either.

"Recognized, Superman, 01."

"You're okay." Clark repeats.

"Recognized, Lane comma Lois, A-58."

"It's going to be fine," Lois joins in.

"Recognized, Batman, 02."

Bruce says nothing, carefully folding a brown-tinged handkerchief.

"Recognized, Superboy, B-38."

[redbreastedbird]

Hey Robin! A handful of MMU fans are trying to timeline the series and we have a question for you!

Are Nuala, May, and Eric all in the same 'school year', so to speak? We thought that Nuala is in the 'right' school year while May is in the year above the one she ought be in, because of the enrollment shenanigans the war causes, but we can't quite figure it out!

Could you give us a hand?

Thank you, some very confused MMU fans <3

Yes okay, this is also something that breaks my brain when I think about it too much. I did it, and I remember doing it, and yet. And yet!! I often ask myself what I was playing at.

So the trouble starts way back in the short story May Wong and the Deadly Flat, set in September 1939. In that, May is 9 years old. (Her birthday is May 4th, 1930). For the end of the story to work to set up the Ministry series, May has to stay in the UK, because otherwise she’d probably have gone home to HK and then have been shipped off to Australia in 1940/41 like other wealthier kids of Hong Kong Chinese families worried about Japanese invasion.

Now we all know that for her to stay in the UK she needs to go to Deepdean, and Deepdean takes kids from 10/11. Ideally you’d be 11 when you start first form, then 12 when you start second form, and so on. Hazel and Daisy are 13 and in third form when MMU starts. BUT I worked out a loophole about this, and this is the very real fact that British country boarding school years got skewy when WW2 broke out. They suddenly got very over-subscribed because wealthy parents were desperate to bundle their kids off to get them out of the way of bombs, and sometimes the too-young siblings of pupils were sent too. So I had at least some historical evidence that May could have been jammed into a sort of baby form, and I decided to run with that.

I figured that she would spend one year in baby form in 1939/1940, and then they’d shove her up into first form in the 1940/1941 school year. She would still be younger than most of the other girls (which is part of why she hates it and is struggling - she’s a little younger than they are AS WELL as being extremely ADHD).

Now, Nuala comes into Deepdean in the spring term of 1941. She is of course a year and a half older than May - she’s 12 when MUA begins in 1940, and her birthday is 15th September, so she really should be the oldest kid in second form. However I decided that, since she hasn’t been in formal schooling pretty much ever (she got taught by various Company members and then her granny) she’d probably be a bit behind on the curriculum. So I moved her down into first form, to be with May, and to be massively the oldest kid in the form.

The final piece in the puzzle (I really went wild with this one) is that you’ll notice that I mention Lottie, Eric’s sister, being in the same form as Rose. This is because I thought they’d have a nice time hanging out and being friends, so I decided that Lottie is super smart and would skip a form - plus, again, over-subscribed boarding school in war time might mean that Rose’s form would be the only space for her.

Anyway. That’s it. That’s the story. It’s possible I put too much thought into all of this.

[littlestarbigsky]

hey yall so i have covid (im feeling okay! my symptoms have been pretty mild :) so i’m about to have so much time to write- anyways here’s pt. 2 of this fic (it’s not technically a chapter fic but it’s also based off the idea of pony w breathing problems :)

so here’s darry helping pony with a breathing treatment, slight emetophobia warning (nothing graphic but it’s there)

“alright, kiddo, just try one more time for me, in and out, okay?”

darry knew if he couldn’t get pony under control soon, they’d probably have to go to the hospital. aside from them definitely not being able to afford hospital care on top of all of pony’s already very expensive treatment regiment, four trips to the hospital since september would definitely prompt a visit from social services. darry knew there was a chance they would take his brothers away, and even though it killed him to admit it, they’d be perfectly within their rights to do it.

the breath pony dragged in didn’t ease darry’s racing mind at all, especially not after he’d already used his inhaler twice.

it had all started with a small head cold, nothing out of the ordinary, especially since it was still february, but as all things did nowadays with pony, the illness had gone straight to his lungs. darry could hear him wheezing just standing up cutting vegetables for dinner, he was using his inhaler much more, and that dry, chesty, cough just didn’t seem to want to go away.

soda was normally the one who could take care of this, he knew all the tricks to get pony’s breathing calmed back down, but he was working a double and he made extra if he stayed after closing, so darry had no choice but to hunker down and prepare as much as he could. darry had initially brought pony into the bathroom and turned on the shower, the knob turned as hot as it would go, hoping that the steam would help with the cough, even if it was just for a few minutes.

at first, it had seemed like it was working, but when pony’s coughing fits started, it seemed like they never stopped. darry tried to get them under control, he really did, using all of their tricks he had already learned: deep pressure hugs, putting vapo-rub on his chest and neck, changing pony’s position about 100 times, nothing was working.

after an hour, he was seriously beginning to worry, sitting on the bathroom floor with a wheezing ponyboy leaning back against his chest, wrapped in a blanket. darry opened up the bathroom cupboard next to them and pulled out pony’s nebulizer.

“darry…” pony whined quietly, and darry felt him go tense.

“i know, honey, but we gotta get all this coughing under control,” darry ran a hand through pony’s hair, digging around in the cabinet for the medicine to put in the machine. “if this doesn’t calm down we gotta go to the hospital. and i’m gonna put more of that vapo-rub on you, that helped a little bit earlier.”

pony didn’t say anything. darry did what he could to convince himself it was because pony was conceding, however out of character that was for him. it was easier to tell himself that than think that he wasn’t complaining because he didn’t have the spare breath to.

he got the nebulizer set up and plugged in, all the while keeping pony leaned against him.

“alright, this should be good to go. can you sit up against the wall for me, little man? i gotta get the vapo-rub.”

pony shifted back and took the mouthpiece from darry as he turned it on, crawling across the bathroom floor to the edge of the bathtub where he had set up all of the supplies they may need. he picked up the tub of vapo-rub and shifted back over to pony, who was slumped against the wall, pulling in sad, short breaths.

“this might be a little cold, kiddo,” darry said softly. pony’s t-shirt had been balled up against the door so it wouldn’t stick to the vapo-rub earlier, so darry just pushed the blanket out of the way. they both pretended not to notice darry trying to feel pony’s heartbeat as he rubbed the gel over his chest. pony squeezed his eyes shut and darry felt his chest contract as he started coughing.

it felt like it would never stop once he got going, he dropped the nebulizer and pulled the blanket tighter around himself as he coughed uncontrollably. all darry could do was pull his little brother into his chest and pray that it would end soon. he knew how much pony hated the hospital, that they would just poke him and give him meds that made him feel funny and tired, but anything had to be better than this.

“i know, it’s okay, it’ll be over soon,” darry comforted, holding pony tight to him.

after a few more minutes, pony gagged and for a second it seemed like it was going to stop, but darry knew what was coming. he wasn’t sure how, but something in him knew to move pony as fast as he could. pony weakly pushed himself up onto his knees and threw up into the toilet.

it was miserable while it was happening. when he was done, he leaned back against the bathtub and pulled his knees up to his chest. darry slid over and pulled pony back into his arms, and as soon as the security of darry had wrapped itself around pony, the tears started.

“hey, don’t cry now, baby, i know that was lousy, but it’s over,” darry reached over and grabbed pony’s cup of water and held it for him as he drank feebly from the straw. “small sips, okay?”

even though it killed darry that pony had gotten sick, at least he wasn’t coughing anymore. he was able to get down some of his water and washed the foul taste out of his mouth.

“listen,” darry whispers, resting his cheek on pony’s head, one grounding hand on his chest while the other rubbed circles over his back. “can you try to do a little more of your treatment?”

pony sniffled, but nodded eventually. darry shuffled them both back over to the nebulizer, cradling pony in his lap and holding the mouthpiece for him as he breathed in the medicine.

pony was dead asleep when soda finally cracked open the bathroom door, darry holding their baby brother to his chest, the breathing treatment almost finished. maybe it was the blanket he was wrapped up in, or maybe it was because he was all curled up in a ball against their brother who was pretty big by any standard, but he looked so small. grease washed out of his hair, his skin pale and clammy, and their big brother rocking him gently, keeping him asleep while the medicine worked its way into his aching lungs.

“need me to take over?” soda asked quietly, and darry looked up at him.

darry shook his head, “i got him for now, go get changed and shower. i'm gonna bring him to sleep with me tonight.”

soda nodded, "i'll put away the nebulizer, you get him to bed."

once the treatment had finished, darry scooped pony up and carried him the few steps down the hall to his bedroom, gently setting him down on the bed before changing his own clothes. he slid into bed, pulling up the covers and tucking pony against him, his little wheezes finally starting to lighten up.

it wasn't perfect, but maybe it didn't have to be. darry could feel pony's heart beating and the deep breaths he was pulling in, and as much as he hated that pony needed a breathing treatment to get him to that point, it was worth it. if it meant that he didn't have to wake up coughing and not able to catch his breath. maybe his lungs would never really recover, but they knew how to get him better when they needed to. it was gonna be okay.

darry was almost alseep when soda quietly opened the door, hair soft and damp after his shower and dressed a pair of darry's old sweatpants, cuffed twice at the bottom because of how long they were. darry waved him over, and soda smiled, piling in next to his brothers and wrapping himself around pony’s other side.

“he sleeping?” soda whispered, darry barely nodded, exhaustion taking over. “good, don’t tell him i did this.”

soda pressed a gentle kiss to pony’s head and laid back down, already feeling drowsy next to his two sleeping brothers.

[thegamingcatmom]

Helloooo, you asked for RE village asks.

What kinda pampering do you think Miranda likes? (Especially from an s/o)

I think she'd like having her wings massaged but only if she really trusts the other person.

YES HI HELLO

I meant to answer you right away, but then I got distracted writing a lil smt about Miranda and her housewi-I mean assistant. It´s a one-shot, so it shouldn´t take all too long to finish, hopefully. 🤭

...And then I got distracted writing a lil smt about Miri the Workaholic, which you will find further down. 🤭

SPEAKING OF-

(Someone´s very much looking forward to this one...)

First of: It is crucial to understand that I view Miranda as a rather...practical being. She´s not big into all that lovey-dovey stuff, simply because she prefers getting straight to the point. Everything else is a waste of time in her opinion, and while she does technically have all the time in the world (perks of being immortal), she quite lacks the patience for it.

Besides, she´s a workaholic. Ynow what has her undead heart soaring? Seeing her papers neatly organized in separate stacks. Bonus points if they´re labeled. 😩🤌

So, when it comes to actual pampering (as in: things you do to her), what immediately comes to mind is preening because that actually has a use, yknow what I´m saying? Yknow, plucking those loose feathers (gently, if you know what´s good for you), and keeping the good ones nice and clean. That may or may not include a bath.

(She does quite enjoy those, it has to be said. With or without feathers...)

But yeah, it´s not so much about what you can do to her, and more what you can do for her. (That also includes looking pretty for her btw.) Therefore-

Pampering Birb Momma would include:

keeping her lab nice and clean

just like her feathers

taking notes for her so she can do other stuff in the meantime (she´s a sucker for proper time management)

keeping her jewelry spotless (mask, handchains, etc.)

handing her tools, adjusting the light, anything she might need when she experiments on someone (that one might get a satisfied smile out of her)

awaiting/welcoming her when she gets home like a good little waifu

that will do wonders for her mood, especially when she´s had a rather tiring day with her "children"

bonus if you´re wearing an apron (they just...do smt to her, it´s all about that domestic stuff I´m telling ya)

polishing her cutlery (she has no use for it, but she loves shiny things)

(...she´s part bird yall, cmon)

luring ppl into her lab for her to experiment on so she can take care of other things in the meantime (it´s all about that time management, ppl)

bonus if you wrap them up like a present, bow and all

that will actually get a laugh out of her

(Miri has a rather dark humor)

applying her makeup (not that she´d ever admit it, but...that one drives her wild)

So ye, any kind of pampering is more related to how you can help her with her work because that IS all she does, basically. That´s what she lives for. However-

She could be persuaded into taking a break now and again. Perhaps. If you ask real nicely. Apron and all.

What I´m saying is: Don´t use words. She´s not listening anyway because she´s already knuckle-deep in her next specimen, mumbling to herself as if possessed. If you wanna get her attention, you have to demand it. Be the aggressor, yknow?

...Meaning:

HOW TO APPROACH A WORKING BIRB MOMMA 101:

(Participate at your own peril.)

Start by grazing the tips of your fingers against the feathers located at the very edge of her wings - known as the primary feathers. Go nice and slow, so as not to spook her. (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.) A light ruffling of wings or a flitting of eyes in your direction typically means your touch has been accepted. (Should you find yourself faced with neither of those things, don´t let that deter you! You´re still standing, which means your presence is tolerated regardless.) Proceed with firm but gentle precision as you slowly work your way to the base of her wings. You may apply slight pressure here and there, but make sure to keep your eyes trained on her face and posture at all times to avoid missing any signs of discomfort or unease. (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.)

Those signs could include:

a furrowing of eyebrows

a twitching of her jaw (typically a result of chattering)

a puffed up chest

a sudden and strong ruffling of wings, usually accompanied by a puffed up chest (a defense mechanism to appear bigger and more threatening)

a strong release of air through mouth or nose (resembling a hiss)

a low humming sound (resembling a growl)

in extreme cases: loud, harsh squawking or screaming

Body language is a primary form of communication for many species, and knowing hers is essential for survival.

By now, you should have reached the feathers located midway between the base and the outer wings - known as the secondary feathers. Those are more sensitive to the touch, so start by softly running your fingers along the plumage towards the base - your goal. Now, the same strategy applies: Be on the lookout for any signs of discomfort or unease as you move along. (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.) If you find neither of the aforementioned signs, you may also try and slip your fingers between the feathers. As those are more sensitive, your touch might evoke a stronger reaction, such as a violent twitch or a strong ruffling of wings. If that happens and it is not accompanied by a puffed up chest: don´t.panic. It is vital to understand that this isn´t a sign of discomfort, and showing fear or hesitation in such a moment could trigger a fight or flight response. Given the nature of her species, fight is the more likely reaction. (Which will most likely result in fatal consequences.)

This is why I cannot stress this enough: understanding her body language is crucial.

If you´re able to read this: good job! You´ve made it to the base - known as the tertiary feathers. Those are the most sensitive, so it is strongly advised to proceed with caution. (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.) If any pressure is being applied at this point, lessen it until the mere tips of your fingers are resting against the feathery coat. Due to the sensitivity of that area, you might notice a slight tremor - let it guide you! Tremors are a telltale sign of victory, so continue feeling for more as you draw closer to where wing and body meet. The trembling might become increasingly more violent the closer you get, so don´t let that deter you. On the contrary: you´re nearly there, so keep pushing forward! (Failing to do so could result in fatal consequences.)

You will know you have reached the spot when her wings begin to droop, as if gravity is gently pulling at them. Once that state has been achieved, initiate the ultimate checkmate by dancing your fingers along her spine - pressure optional. Proceed to watch in a mix of awe and self-satisfaction as her head tilts back and her eyes begin to close in complete and utter bliss. If you listen very closely, you might be able to perceive a low humming sound.

Got you.

Your hand finds purchase on her shoulder, but before you can apply the slightest pressure, she yields, sinking into the chair behind her with an irritated sigh that more resembles a hiss.

Someone´s angry.

If there is one thing she detests more than failures, it is resting when she could be doing something instead.

You saunter around the chair with a little more sway to your hips than usual before claiming all the space her lap provides to make sure she stays resting. Her muscles ripple beneath you, and you choose to ignore the fact she holds enough power to obliberate armies.

If she wanted to, she could throw you off with a mere flick of her wrist. But, alas...

Her icy blue eyes glint dangerously as she opts to stare at you with a mix of resentment and irritation, eyebrows furrowed and full lips flattened into a thin line. In fact, her gaze is so vicious that you almost believe she wants nothing more than for you to drop dead on the spot.

Almost.

If it weren´t for the fact her arms had wrapped around you as soon as you sat down.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you´re doing?"

How she manages to sound calm despite the storm clearly raging within her never ceases to amaze you. It used to terrify you.

A long time ago.

"Sitting," you reply with feigned innocence, even going so far as to throw your arms around her shoulders as far as the halo adorning her back would let you to settle in further.

"I see that."

...

"Cool."

Conversations with her are always so fulfilling.

"Why?"

Ah, there it is.

"...Why what?"

You can´t help it. Pushing buttons and testing boundaries has become your favorite way to pass the time. You blame the endless spiral of cleaning, and cleaning, and some more cleaning. You get that you have to contribute something, but your mind craves stimulation.

Hence you being a massive pain in her ass from time to time.

"Dove..."

Sigh.

She´s no fun when she has the patience of a boiling pot.

"You work too much…" you admit meekly, avoiding her piercing gaze as your fingers gently bury into the feathers closest to them.

"I wasn´t aware this was for you to decide."

Fair point.

"Well..." you sigh dramatically, making no move to untangle yourself. "If my presence causes such pain and misery for you, then I guess you can always just...let me go?"

Both of you are aware that you aren´t merely talking about her arms currently wrapped around you. They tighten their hold at the mere mention, causing you to risk a peek.

...

It takes everything in you to keep from grinning like the Cheshire Cat as the fold between her eyebrows deepens and the glint in her eyes transforms into an ominous glow.

Got you.

Again.

With slow and deliberate movements, your right hand shifts from the feathery prison of its own making to her face, where your index finger begins to smooth out the persistent crease between her eyebrows with gentle precision.

"I´m bored," you whine, uncaring of the fact you sound like a petulant child.

Now it´s her turn to let out the most dramatic sigh in history. "I´ve given you tasks-"

"Yeah, cleaning. Which I´ve done, by the way. Everything´s spotless."

A moment of tense silence passes.

"Don´t interrupt me, little bird."

Sometimes, you forget that she still scares you. And then you go and do something stupid.

Like interrupting her.

"...Sorry," you mumble, your finger trailing down the bridge of her nose, focusing on how perfect her skin is rather than acknowledging the weight of her judging gaze.

Another sigh fills the air before her hand catches your wrist, stopping your fidgeting and drawing your attention back to her words.

"As I´ve said..." she emphasizes, throwing you a pointed look that makes you want to go back to admiring her flawless skin. "I´ve given you tasks. Tasks that go beyond cleaning, as you well know."

You do know. And you’ve tried your damnest to avoid them since she gave them to you weeks ago.

"I...I don´t wanna..." you admit meekly before letting your gaze drift down to her necklace.

Her chest rises, lifting you slightly as she takes a deep breath - probably to keep herself from tearing your head off in sheer frustration over discussing this topic at least once a day.

You brace yourself for the worst, as always.

...

But it never comes, as always.

Instead, a finger rests against the underside of your chin, applying slight pressure to force you to meet her gaze.

It´s not the all-consuming fury you expected, nor the silent judgement you had grown accustomed to. Instead, it´s something far worse:

Disappointment.

"You don´t wanna?" she mocks you, the crease you fought hard to smooth out now back in full force as her eyebrows furrow in irritation. "Are you truly so selfish to deny me? To deny The Black God? We all must make our sacrifices, little crow. I have told you this time and time again, and I am tiring of this conversation. My patience is but a flicker, and you have long since extinguished it."

And yet, it's been weeks since she tasked you with the ultimate betrayal.

Or the ultimate proof of devotion, in her eyes.

"...Sacrifices?" you echo in disbelief, the temper you fight so hard to contain in her presence starting to rear its ugly head. "You´re asking me to send innocent people straight to their doom! People I´ve known my entire life! People I love!

You try to break free from her grasp, fully intending to storm to your room, lock the door, and remain there for the rest of the day.

You barely manage to stand before her arm shoots up, forcing you back down as it curls around you in a vice-like grip. You begin to thrash and push against her, but her other hand surges up to seize your throat in a firm hold, yanking you back towards her in one swift movement.

Her hold doesn´t hurt much, but it serves as a reminder that it could.

"Was it not you who wished for variety?" she hisses, her breath hot against your cheek. "Was it not you who wailed about setting foot outside again? Was it not you who wept for those pests to quench your thirst for companionship?"

Her grip tightens at that, reminding you of her possessive nature. She doesn´t show it often, but you know it´s there - lurking just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.

"That is what is due," she snarls. "That is your sacrifice."

She releases your throat, but her arm remains firmly wrapped around you. You feel her piercing gaze drilling holes into the side of your head, daring you to oppose her again.

You say nothing in response as you keep your eyes trained on a speck of dust on the floor that you somehow missed, stubbornly refusing to meet her gaze. You know how much she despises that.

Being ignored, that is.

"Perhaps I´ve made a grave mistake by placing my faith in you, hm?" she continues in a low hum, trailing the back of her finger along your cheek. "Perhaps it would serve me better to have you strapped to my table? Transformed into my next specimen? Perhaps then you will discover a sense of gratitude for the position I´ve so generously offered you."

It´s not the first time she´s playing that card - trying to bend you to her will by threatening to make good on the promise she made all those months ago, when you first stepped out of line. Maybe that´s why, instead of fearing for your life as you probably should, all you feel is exhaustion.

You refrain from opening that can of worms, however. Despite all evidence to the contrary, you´re not that stupid.

Just like you refrain from addressing the fact that you were never really offered anything. An offer implies having a choice.

Instead, you continue to ignore her, your eyes idly scanning the floor for any more dust particles you might have missed. How can such a small space get dirty so quickly? It feels like once you’ve reached one end, you could start all over again. It´s ridicul-

A finger on your jaw interrupts your thoughts, turning your head to face her once more.

Her eyes are the only sign that you´re getting under her skin - that ominous glow is back.

"Don´t tempt me, dove..." she warns. "My tolerance for your perpetual insolence is tied solely to your more appealing qualities as a potential vessel, should I ever find myself out of options. Keep testing me, and that day might arrive sooner than you think."

You know you shouldn´t. You didn´t merely poke the bear today - you speared it. The best course of action now would be to keep your mouth shut, nod in humbled defeat, and hope you look convincing enough doing it.

But you´ve never been one to follow your own advice. If you were, you wouldn´t be stuck with the Devil today.

"...You think I´m appealing?"

...

There is a moment of silence.

And another.

And another.

The silence stretches on as you watch her watching you. Her eyes take their time mapping your face, scrutinizing every inch with a precision usually reserved for the unfortunate souls strapped to her table. You´ve yet to feel the hard wood pressing against your back or the cold leather cutting into your wrists and ankles, but you very much feel the raw power she radiates.

And then her eyes stop.

Her finger trails along your jaw towards your chin, where it lingers - tapping once, twice, thrice, as if considering something - before your jaw is seized between her pointer and thumb. She uses the hold to pull you closer, stopping only when the tip of your nose nearly brushes hers.

You can´t stop your eyes from mirroring hers as they dart down, fixating on her plush lips.

The breath catches in your throat.

"I think you have tasks to complete."

And just as quickly, it´s released again as you sink into her, your body deflating in a frustrating mix of relief and disappointment.

Only to feel disappointed in yourself for feeling disappointed in the first place.

And then you take the time to acknowledge her words, and a new wave of frustration washes over you. You know she won´t yield on the matter, but you can´t stop yourself from pushing it one last time.

"...Can´t I just...sacrifize a goat or two?" you sigh, fingers starting to fiddle with her necklace. A nervous habit of yours.

You´re surprised when, instead of finding yourself on the receiving end of one of her outbursts, a low, melodic chuckle reaches your ears. It´s a beautiful sound, and one you´ve managed to evoke only a handful of times since she bound you to her service.

You´re unable to stop the hope from blossoming in your chest-

"Insolent little bird..."

She says nothing more in response, and that hope wilts again like a dying flame.

This conversation is over.

With a heavy sigh, you release her necklace and begin the process of untangling yourself-

Her grip tightens.

You glance at her in confusion for a moment, taking in the slight curl of lips and the lidded eyes, before you realize-

They have yet to leave your lips.

The realization barely has time to settle before her thumb begins tracing your lower lip. Her touch is no more than a whisper, nearly prompting you recoil from the ticklish sensation.

Her icy blue eyes snap back up to yours then, keeping you rooted to the spot as her thumb continues to drive you mad.

It´s clear what she wants, but she makes it your responsibility to provide it. She always does.

Another way of proofing your devotion to her.

Your eyes stray downward in response and, at this point, you´re no longer ashamed to admit that the tantalizing sight clouds your mind almost instantly, pulling you in like a moth to a flame.

She always does.

Just before your lips brush hers, you´re hit with the compelling urge to seek out her gaze once more.

Her eyes are burning.

Then, suddenly, the world around you darkens, and your eyes just so manage to catch a glimpse of feathers before you´re plunged into total darkness.

Save for those burning eyes.

And then, you´re burning. Your lips have barely grazed hers before she´s consuming you, the restraint she´s shown until now discarded as she takes what is due.

...

It´s not the stimulation you had in mind, but you´re not about to complain. Lest she does make good on that promise...

At least you got her to stop working.

.

.

.

Any mistakes you might find: keep em. I was too lazy to read it back. 💀

Besides-

Since this will become the 1st part of (hopefully) many of my planned series (which is really just a way for me to indulge in my obsession for Birb Momma without having to worry too much about the plot), this version will probs undergo some tweaks and adjustments first before it´s released on ao3 too.

Hope to see yall there! 🐦‍⬛🖤

(The next part is already in the works. 🔥🤘)

.

THANKS A LOT FOR YOUR ASK! 💋

(Btw: I´ve been rewatching the part of Shadows of Rose where Rose meets Miranda to get some inspiration, and DUDE-

Miri´s eyes are positively crazy, I cant- 🫠❤️‍🔥

Also the way she breathes the words?? Yknow what I´m saying?? 😩🤌

Also also: TALL. 🫠)

[reallifepotato]

me: i should take some medicine before i feel worse

also me: i don’t need to take medicine i don’t feel that bad

[selunesfavouriteprincess]

I can’t even lie over time this pathetic little elf has grown on me and now I really like her as a character. she’s SUCH a loser. and someone said that she should’ve been recruitable instead of Halsin after uncovering the Shadow Druid plot and she could’ve had a redemption arc and now I can’t stop thinking about that alternate reality

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 5!!!

[turtlespancake]

me when i write a character who is prone to dooming themself and then they run off and doom themself. core traits are stubbornness and a willingness to disregard their own humanity gET BACK HERE IM NOT DONE WITH YOU

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Me, while manically cleaning my room at 3:27am: I should make several large, life-changing, irreversible decisions.

[toastingpencils37]

Bruh, the ninja's aim with the cannon is fucking ass.

Every damn time.

Lowkey also going to vent in the tags for a minute

[missshame]

I hate studying I just wanna create stuff and see the world I hate how little control I have over my life

[a-passing-storm]

I’m DM’ing my first session after... over half a year, and I am so nervous! 

[soupblr]

the learned helplessness has to go though like i think i've had such a myopic focus on temporality and how it has affected so many of the things that i have used to prop my ego up that everything collapsed in on me in a way that [???]

but for the things i Know, it isn't something i can fight or control or submit to it's a fucking Dimension

maybe i am not meant to be like this or whatever but there is no way to escape a literal fucking dimension. it will touch everything you care about and everything you don't care about and everything in between and beyond because it Is

insolence might be comfortable but all it'll ever give you is a record proving exactly what you couldn't accept in the first place. maybe the ways it intrudes are unwanted or painful or whatever other emotion might evoke that kind of reaction but it still Is and it will always Be

the stories we tell ourselves are endlessly entertaining but in the end they're just a symptom of what actually matters struggling to get out from inside. caring about and getting stuck in cycles over it is the human thing to do. but if you're the type of human i am it just means you'll self destruct and destroy yourself over nothing

[parasolids]

i am having a genuine core memory type of bad day today like serious SERIOUS things are going down and i missed a flight because genuine life changing events are happening and got put on standby for another which got delayed multiple times til i would’ve missed my connecting flight home and anyways it was overbooked so i didn’t make it on, and then now five hours after they left me at the airport im finally heading home and i was like “well at least i can eat the fries i bought that i didn’t get to eat yesterday” but my useless cousin who has not only been completely useless through this weeks long ordeal but has also been making things worse stepped in and ate the whole giant box of fries cause he “thought we were leaving” even though my mom clearly left half her stuff behind at the house and told him we did not make our flight so she was going to stay in town and try and get me home and also this whole situation (except for the fries) is straight up my fault cause i didn’t wanna get out of bed for 20 minutes when we woke up and like normally this would be fine especially since i went to bed at 2 am packing suitcases and then had to wake up at 7 and also slept super poorly anyways but i still have no self discipline and everything has gone wrong because of that

[hauntedhappenings]

save me 91 day birth control please please please