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yandere-sins · 3 months ago

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Monstober - Day 7: Sphinx

Sphinx are my personal horror. Like, they actually manage to scare me. So... I tried to make them more likable for me, although it makes me add more fiction to an already existing concept :')

Prompt: Sphinx | Riddles // Sand // Giant Warnings: Yandere, Fem!Reader (Gets called "girl" only once but I should probably leave a note here), Violence (Sharp Teeth, Claws, Mention of Death, Mention of being buried alive, Being mauled to death (not the main character)), Monster and Monster Characteristics, Long Post

"Please... Please, you got to help me!"

Your sobs grew louder as you fell to your knees before the giant creature, your hands latching onto her paw, and for some reason, she didn't use it to crush you right then and there. Perhaps it was the desperation in your voice, or maybe the guardian of the ancient resting place of so many of your ancestors was weak to tears. Still, she didn't even growl despite you bursting into her sanctuary unannounced and, frankly, rudely.

Following the tales and warnings you had received since childhood, you should have acted properly and with dignity. But instead, you were inconsolable as you sobbed into her fur. Something about the image of the great sphinx and you, a mere human at her feet, had comical traits of one of the performances you made at the theater. However, what you once loved so much was now the furthest thing on your mind.

"Child of Man, do not sully my fur so," the sphinx finally spoke, and you rose from her paw, wiping the tears and snot from your face.

"I'm so sorry, Great Protector. But I just don't know what to do."

The sphinx shook her paw as if to get rid of the tears you had wetted it with before she sat down on her rear legs. Even though you knew she was alive, you couldn't help but feel like she was a golden monument. The statue of a god you were praying to—truly, as she was your last hope.

"Pray tell your worries then. I've been visited so little by your kind in the last years, it shall dissolve my boredom."

"They want to marry me off!" you explained bluntly, and her slitted pupils expanded upon hearing this before she closed her eyes altogether. Her whole body collapsed as she roared bellowing laughter at your misery. More tears—this time from frustration and disappointment—flooded your eyes. You couldn't even defend yourself with the sound of her laughter carrying far and wide through the cliffs all around the burial site, echoing and resounding, slapping you with her mockery.

"That's it?" she asked dismissively, making it clear your concerns weren't hers. "You come to me with a matter so trifling? Why should I care, Human, who you are to marry?"

"Because he's old!" you screamed against her roars, and though not disappearing completely, her laughter grew more subtle, turning into chuckles.

"So? Is that not desirable? Do you not wish to part ways with a man you don't want?"

It was nearly impossible to hold back your raging feelings of despair and anger and temper yourself. You should have expected her not to be indulgent to your whims, but you still had hoped as she was a protector. Leaning her head down to you, she twisted it from side to side, staring at you expectantly as she waited for your answer. Her lips parting to reveal her fangs should have made you quickly gather your bearings and leave, but you simply couldn't.

Death by being eaten, perhaps, was more merciful than what this marriage would be.

"They'll bury me with him."

Shoulders slumping, you looked down, staring at the sand softly clouding on the ground as the sphinx moved to stand before you properly again. This time, you didn't face her. Instead, you listened to the ruffling of her fur, wishing you could bury yourself in it instead. Of course, the great sphinx was no pet, but she resembled the cat you once called your own with her brown fur. It made you want to seek comfort.

"He won't make it very long anymore, and his last wish is to be married. My family couldn't refuse receiving most of his estate in exchange for my hand in marriage, but now they won't even reconsider, knowing the family plans to bury me with him—alive!"

The sphinx hummed, sitting back down again, which made more sand clouds rise, and you looked up, straight into her eyes watching you.

"It is the way of all things except mine. You would not wish for a life as long as I have. Why defy your fate?"

"Because it's too early!" you protested weakly, letting out a sigh.

"I studied to perform at the theater, to sing and dance. I worked my way up in society, and there was no one who aided me! They are all my accomplishments! And I barely had a chance to showcase what I can do and what I have studied so hard for! All I did cannot lead to me pitifully ending in the tomb of a man I didn't ask to marry!"

You sighed, shaking your head. Clasping your hands together in the motion of a prayer, you held them above your head, bowing to her as you made your final attempt at pleading with her. It almost seemed lost, but you couldn't sink deeper than you already had.

"They are coming for me soon. They always feared I'd run away, so they'll not stop their pursuit until they find me here, where I am asking, for once in my life, for help. Your help. Please, Great Sphinx, find it in you to aid me!"

"I see," she finally relented, and your pulse quickened while you tried not to get your hopes up. Her understanding meant little when she decided not to take action. "Then what do I gain?"

Your breath escaped you as you looked up at her, trying to wager her thoughts. What was there you could give? A monster's help never came cheap, but it was much easier to figure out what they wanted by letting them tell you, their instincts never betraying them, unlike how humans acted on greed and desire.

"What do you want?"

Her tail flicked in the air, smashing and rattling the ground she sat on. Briefly, she averted her eyes, rolling them unnaturally slowly in their sockets as she thought, but soon enough, her lips split into the uncanny grin that suited her well as she came to her conclusion.

"You'll solve my riddle. If you can't, you die here and now and feed me." Her grin widened, sharp teeth glistening between them as if she enjoyed the thought.

"If you solve it, I will ask the same riddle to your pursuers once they come here. If they answer it correctly, I will eat them, and you are free to go, but if not, you will stay here for as long as I wish, amusing me with your song and dance while I get to feed on those that come to get you. Is that a deal you want to make, Child of Man?"

"Yes," you replied, not thinking twice. In reality, you were nervous, your heart thumping out of your chest, ribs aching. But you had come prepared, and you knew that it was possible for the sphinx to give you a riddle, her favorite pastime. Getting to your feet, you braced yourself, noticing how the fur of the creature ruffled in excitement or perhaps the anticipation of a good meal. Regardless, you told yourself to not be discouraged by her confidence.

"Then tell me, what means more to you than it does to me?"

You knew there was no time limit on the question. And yet, you felt the pressure of the sphinx awaiting your answer with hunger in her stomach and desire in her eyes. Reckoning that she wasn't as malicious as the childhood stories made her out to be, didn't help you in the face of your demise. She may have enjoyed having her riddle solved, but to her, it didn't really matter as she came out as the winner. Only for you was it a matter of life and death, and...

"My life..." you whispered out loud, the thought escaping you before you could hold yourself back. Even with your hand clasping over your mouth could you not take back the involuntary answer you gave the sphinx, and she cackled maniacally at your mistake.

"Correct," she purred, settling down on all fours and bumping her enormous head against your body, just like a cat would. Curling your hands into fists, you resisted the urge to pet her, the sound of her purring rumbling through the ground.

"You may stand beside me, for they are coming. Their armor is such a bothering ringing in my ears, yet it will save them from nothing."

An enormous boulder fell off your shoulders, even bringing forth a small smile as you quickly moved forward, positioning yourself next to her paw again. Strangely enough, it was the safest place for you at that moment, and you held onto her fur as the rattling of armor and shouting reached you that she had long heard.

"It's not usually so lively here," the sphinx sighed, her tail flicking and whirling up more sand.

"But it is, always, someone's grave."

"So, what will it be?" the sphinx asked, impatiently waiting for the answer from the four men who had been debating over the riddle for way too long. They felt the pressure, too, you were sure.

Although they made their intentions clear that they were here for you, speaking reverently and dutifully to the sphinx, she told them they'd have to solve the riddle or die trying to tear you from her grasp. However, you didn't forget your own deal with her, and between checking if she was preoccupied, you had been gesturing to the men, trying to help them and yourself.

It felt terrible since you were trying to save yourself by sacrificing them, but it had to be done. At least, you wouldn't have to go back to your village either way, but staying with the sphinx and perhaps one day becoming her meal wasn't the consequence you wanted to have either.

So you pointed at yourself since they wanted you. Then you did the universal sign of chopping your head off to signal death. Death and life, the man should have understood it since they wanted you alive and well to marry the old man. And finally, you pointed towards them. Their life, that's all they had to say.

The sphinx had no reason to honor her promises, but at the same time, she didn't have a reason to save you either. Yet, here she was, doing it in a way that suited her, even if it was hard to believe that despite her monstrous appearance, giant size, and appetite for humans, she could be so benevolent.

"Have you decided yet?" she asked, changing up her question in hopes of making one of the men nervous enough to give an answer.

Surprisingly, one of them reacted, the youngest of the soldiers nervously stepping forward, wringing his hands and glancing back over his shoulder a few times to get confirmation.

"The... The girl," he answered, and you felt your body stiffen as he gave you a short smile, not knowing the verdict yet. However, the sphinx bristled in excitement, cackling like she had with your answer before she lowered her head, grinning at the young man.

"Wrong," she revealed, fangs snapping forward, and you yelped in horror and shock as you heard the crunching of bones and metal, one bite enough to break through the man's body. The sphinx got up on her four feet, and with an ease that shouldn't have been impossible for a body this big, she pounced on the others that screamed and readied their weapons, just not in time to fight her off.

Maybe you screamed as the men were ripped apart one by one, a fun hunt for the sphinx, but not so much for you who had to witness it.

Maybe you simply cowered in silence until their gurgles and crunching bones stopped resounding in the atrium of the ancient burial site.

"They are wrong, you know?" you heard the sphinx call out to you, and you slowly lifted your head, not wanting to see the carnage on the ground. But her face, smothered in blood and looking so much more horrific than it had before, wasn't easy to stomach either. The wind blew through the pillars surrounding the hall, dragging out the sand stained with the blood of innocent soldiers who had been sent to "rescue" you and the severity of the situation began to sink in.

You only felt the tears brimming at your eyelids, but you didn't spill them, not when you were almost worse off than these guys. The sphinx laid down next to you, separating you from the entrance and exit to her lair with her gigantic body. Letting you go was not her plan, and you had agreed to this arrangement without thinking twice.

"What about?" you asked dully, watching her very human face lick her blood-stained paws with the naturalness of any feline creature. You'd have to accept that about her if you were stuck here now. But the thought had yet to fully register.

"You mean a lot to me, even if they didn't think so. But at least I get to keep you now, and you'll be my little songbird."

Tears broke loose as you sacked to the floor, her tail flopping against the sand as you began sobbing miserably. And she let you, as she had from the very beginning. Was this an outcome she had anticipated? One she allowed to happen as the opportunity arose? You would have been dead had you not done anything, buried with the corpse of a man you didn't even know. But now that you were in this situation, you realized your death had always been predetermined.

You merely prolonged the fateful day that you'd be buried here.

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javelinbk · 1 year ago

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Here it is, Beatle People! The official 'Insane Things Paul Has Said About John' list, as created by the people of tumblr. I hope this is a useful supplement to the original McLennon iceberg

Sources under the cut:

“He was a very cool boy” (@javelinbk)

"Whenever other people do that it always reminds me of John" (@javelinbk)

"We put our names next to each other in our school exercise books" (@beatlepaul4ever)

When was Lennon at his best? "When he was asleep." (@didwemeetsomewherebefore)

"A delicious broth of a boy" (@zilabee)

"A lovely little baby, John was" (@mallowedheart)

"Daddy's room" (@pauls1967moustache)

"We’re songwriting together even if we’re not together" (@midchelle)

"John seemed like some sort of emperor in control of it all" (@blondecasino)

"I'm trying to get my son to have a son and call him Lennon, and then he'll be Lennon McCartney" (@peaceloveandstarrs)

“John and I had millions of fabulous little experiences in Paris” (@divine-sphinx)

"We used to have wanking sessions" (@merseydreams)

"You can be heterosexual and be having a homosexual dream and wake up, and think, 'Shit, am I gay?'" (@skylikeaflame)

"It was a place called Menlove Avenue. [Pauses] Someone's going to read significance into that: Paul and John on Menlove Avenue. Come onnnnnnn" (@s-l-martin)

"I slept with him a million times" (@s-l-martin)

"A wild and woolly genius who it was my pleasure to work with, walk with, talk with, and occasionally sleep with." (@didwemeetsomewherebefore)

"In bed" (@i-am-the-oyster)

"Well, I’m sure Brian was in love with John, I’m sure that’s absolutely right. I mean, everyone was in love with John; John was lovable, John was a very lovable guy." (@whenyourbirdisbroken)

"Dear friend, throw the wine, I’m in love with a friend of mine." (@heartsinthebasement)

"We got very drunk and cried about how we loved each other" (@nikidontsurf)

“Then also we were like married, so you got the bitterness. It’s not a woman scorned this time, it’s two men scorned — probably even worse. And I had to make way for Yoko. My relationship with John could not have remained as it was and Yoko feel secure.” (@thefortunateisle)

"If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…" (@alienoriana, @majinmelmo)

"You just don’t hang around with your ex-wife" (@javelinbk)

"No, I have a lot of dreams about John, and they're always good" (@notgrungybitchin, @skylikeaflame)

"This (painting) is John’s Room. It just looked to me like John, when he had his long hair and then his cloak or whatever this is. Then I just scratched in that, looked like one of those drawings John used to do. You know his funny little men. So then I called that John’s room … If I’m gonna see a face in a painting it’s highly likely to be his." (@foryouwereinmysong)

"I wish I had sat and just hugged John all the time when we were together.’ (…) I’d just sit around and hug him forever. That’s the depth of my feeling for him" (@theoldmixer)

“Here Today - a love song to John” (@javelinbk, @bluewater9)

"So if you've got someone, you want to tell them you love them, just get it said, don't wait" (@lennon-gal)

And honourable mention for the following stories:

Stalking John all over Liverpool until Ivan officially got them introduced (@only-a-northern-soul)

‘He’s been telling himself and the whole world that nobody cared about writing songs and his music before he met John. He knew George Harrison.’ (@greatsaladavenue)

Quitting his job to commit to the band aka explicitly picking John over his father (@adriansfrombrooklyn)

Writing "Here, There, and Everywhere" by John's pool while waiting for him to wake up and write with him alone in his attic (@aint-that-kind-of-blog-bruv)

Taking the one photo of him and john from that night with the cursed pictures with jane and then blowing it up and hanging it in his office at apple (@pauls1967moustache)

Taking LSD so he could join John in his potentially bad trip (@scurator)

The time he vaulted over a table because another man was touching John and Paul had to physically intervene (@scurator)

#kind of heartbreaking seeing them all in one place #but also insane #some of these are even more insane in full context so I suggest you read the full quotes for maximum impact #paul mccartney #john lennon #john and paul #mclennon #insane quotes #quotes:paul

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tritoch · 3 months ago

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i've seen a lot of people complain about the dawntrail final dungeon for being a thing that we have basically already done and i understand and in many ways agree with that complaint but i do think it varies from the usual in ways that are actually pretty compelling.

spoilers for dawntrail follow, natch.

like okay in amaurot and the dead ends and the lunar subterrane (okay this is definitely a well CBU3 has gone to too many times), the premise is the fights you're engaging in are all kind of historical. behold, the dooms of amaurot. tremble before ra-la, a real sphinx that actually existed once somewhere. face durante, just as golbez faced him in real life.

and accordingly, because all the fighting is supposed to match the energy of the dungeons, these are moments of panic and peril. the world is ending. the worlds are ending. the kingdom is on fire. there's a solemn villain voiceover to really drive the point home (we just wanted to play...on da amaurotine playground...). amaurot is falling and look how sad it is. every world died and look how painful it was. my best buddy golbez died and it was really sad. everything is Fucked Up.

what's really fun about alexandria by contrast, particularly in the first part, is that things are fine, actually! sphene's here (well, "heah"), and we love her, and she smiles because we smile and we smile for her :). oh no alexandria is falling and it's so sad and noble because of everyone's chivalric sacrifices :( oh yay we're rebuilding from the ashes :)

it's a beautiful, tragic, noble story. and the whole time no one's talking to you, not like normal. sphene's kind of reciting the lyrics to memory from cats listlessly but everyone in her memories is talking to each other, not to you. none of them are interacting with you. you're not fighting alongside her against her enemies or taking down conjured horrors from the past.

no, the whole time you're being reminded of one very specific fact.

You're foreign. You're not from here. This is not for you. This is not yours. This peace was not yours and never will be. This grief, this hope. You chose otherwise. You were offered the chance to be Alexandrian. You rejected it. Stay over there. Stay out. You are not wanted here.

in what i personally choose to interpret as a bit of dark comedy, when things start breaking down, it's literally one of the only words you still understand.

ultimately what distinguishes alexandria from amaurot or the dead ends (intentional "this is why i'm sad" slideshows made specifically for the warrior of light to experience) or the lunar subterrane (accidental memory recreation) is that you are choosing to invade sphene's memories. you are doing a cool little backdoor heist at the luxor casino by causing chaos all over the strip before you crawl through the vents to get to the mainframe or whatever.

but in the context of dawntrail, alexandria is the invading power, the rapacious techno-dystopia that intends to carry out forever wars so it can use the literal souls of its enemies to power its treat machines and which not so coincidentally spawned in north america. and alexandria has literally invaded both tuliyollal and yyasulani at this point. so the conceit of the memory guardians helps make clear the hegemonic logic at play. you are a foreign entity. you are not a subject of the state. your life has no value. you must be removed.

or, if removal proves impossible, exterminated.

#ffxiv #dawntrail spoilers #alexandria ffxiv #endwalker spoilers #shadowbringers spoilers #okay but for real i need the next final dungeon to be not this #one yearns for the simple drama of a good ala mhigo #dawntrail #meta: durai report

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niqhtlord01 · 21 days ago

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Interviews with the Mythical

Human Reporter: What do you mean you invented Christmas?

Vampire: I mean just that, we invented the entire thing up.

Human Reporter: But we have documents, records of-

Vampire: All fabricated during the 3rd century as you call it.

Human Reporter: But why would you do that?

Vampire: Long term plan to subvert the day Christ was born.

Vampire: We gathered and felt that if we could slowly subvert the holiday with something less Christian we could dilute the faithful.

Vampire: Eventually we took a step back and you humans corporatized the holiday all by yourself to the point many associate it with our “Saint Nic” over that zombie boy Jesus.

Human Reporter: How would you say that has played out?

Vampire: I watched a woman throw a child like a football all to get the last Christmas day sale Toaster.

Vampire: It’s going swimmingly. ------------------------

Shape shifter: Oh yes I knew him.

Human Reporter: You knew Vincent Van Gogh?

Shape Shifter: This will be a short interview if you continue to question everything I say.

Human Reporter: I was just surprised since you look so young.

Shape Shifter: Such things as aging function differently for us.

Shape Shifter: We appear old because we wish to feel the ravages of time.

Shaper Shifter: We appear young because we wish to bask in the depravities of youth.

Human Reporter: So are you immortal like vampires?

Shaper Shifter: *scoffs

Shape Shifter: I wish they would stop referring to themselves like that; the arrogant bastards.

Shaper Shifter: Vampires age slowly, but they age all the same; and I’ve yet to meet one that didn’t find a stake through the heart a grievous inconvenience.

Human Reporter: You are dodging the question.

Shape Shifter: Because I don’t have an answer.

Shape Shifter: The only way I imagine I can die is if I change into something dead, but I have no idea what that feels like so in the back of my mind there will always be a part of me alive meaning I am never really dead.

Human Reporter: Sounds like a maddening state.

Shape Shifter: Gogh said the same thing before he asked to paint me in my natural state.

Human Reporter: Really? What was it like being in one of his paintings?

Shape Shifter: Let’s just say he wasn’t always paranoid. ---------------------------

Human Reporter: So you take being a wolf seriously.

Werewolf: So?

Human Reporter: I mean, really seriously.

Werewolf: What kind of stupid question is that?

Werewolf: You take being human pretty seriously for being a human.

Human Reporter: But that’s just it, you are half wolf and half human; but your more animalistic side seems to take more precedent.

Werewolf: *Snarls

Human Reporter: I mean from what we do know you still form packs and groups with other werewolves even when in human form, you organize yourself like a pack being led by an alpha, etc.

Werewolf: I see what you’re getting at.

Werewolf: The animal tendencies are more…overpowering than human ones.

Human Reporter: Aren’t they the same?

Werewolf: No, they’re not.

Human Reporter: Could you elaborate?

Werewolf: Do you want to leave with your head?

Human Reporter: Yes.

Werewolf: Than this interview is over. ----------------

Human Reporter: Do you have a moment for an interview?

Sphinx: Only if you answer my riddle.

Sphinx: What walks on-

Human Reporter: The answer is man.

Sphinx: ……

Sphinx: I haven’t even finished.

Human Reporter: I mean…..it’s not exactly a secret riddle.

Sphinx: But how can you possibly know it?

Human Reporter: Oedipus recorded the answer after he solved it.

Sphinx: *Defeated sigh

Sphinx: I knew I should have just killed that little man.

Sphinx: What else did he write?

Human Reporter: That after he solved the riddle you were so distraught you flung yourself into the sea to commit suicide.

Sphinx: That lying sack of shit! --------------------

Human Reporter: So does your pumpkin rot and you need to collect new ones or is it just eternally ripe?

Headless Horseman: Through the pumpkin That is what you are opening with?

Human Reporter: Well I just wonder how that thing could be still fresh after almost 300 years.

Headless Horseman: *Tilts neck down to show severed neck muscles and spine

Headless Horseman: None of this is freaking you out?

Human Reporter: If I’m being truthful I did interview a zombie before meeting you and they also were missing a substantial amount of flesh.

Headless Horseman: Did you just fucking compare me to a zombie!?!

Human Report: You technically are undead in a sense.

Headless Horseman: They made a bloody movie about me! It had Johnny Depp and I was played by Christopher Walken!

Headless Horseman: They made a tv show about me!

Human Reporter: With respect they’ve made more shows about zombies.

Headless Horseman: *Storms off and kicks over a stack of boxes while swearing in german ----------------

Human Reporter: Thank you for your time.

Leprechaun: Pay my fee, lest I shall flee.

Human Reporter: *Reaches into pocket and tosses three gold coins.

Leprechaun: *Catches coins, takes a bite on each, then pockets them.

Human Reporter: You’re the only creature I’ve met that’s actually charged for an interview.

Leprechaun: Fools and half-wits waste fortunes with words said free, but I’m neither lest I’m paid handsomely.

Human Reporter: Bit of a rhyming theme going on I see; very poetic.

Leprechaun: Words and songs are my crafts by trade, but none still finer than my cobbler days.

Human Reporter: What makes Leprechaun gold more special than normal gold?

Leprechaun: A simple question gets a simple answer.

Leprechaun: No gold is finer than the ones I gather.

Leprechaun: Through trade and trick I make my wealth, and by deceit and death I keep it still.

Human Reporter: You’re saying you’ve had to kill to protect your gold?

Leprechaun: The penance is clear, there’s no debate.

Leprechaun: You take my gold, I take your life. ------------

Human Reporter: What is it like to be the neck tie for a god?

Nag Vasuki: You would mock an immortal being?

Human Reporter: Do you not coil yourself around the neck of the literal god of destruction?

Nag Vasuki: I do.

Human Report: Then that makes you a neck tie.

Nag Vasuki: *Lunges across table and bites reporter in the neck, delivering a lethal amount of poison before storming off to get a bagel. ---------------

Human Reporter: Why do you eat children?

Baba Yaga: Why does a raging river drown those lost within its grasp?

Human Reporter: Because a river is part of nature.

Baba Yaga: As am I.

Baba Yaga: There is nothing more unforgiving and unrelenting than that of nature, and in their youthful bliss many young find themselves lost within its tangled woods of thorn and wood.

Baba Yaga: I, like nature, stand at the gates of great change that children must face; be it for great joy or misery.

Human Reporter: Are you saying you eat children because they refused to adapt?

Baba Yaga: *chuckles

Baba Yaga: Only the unlucky ones. -------------------

Human Reporter: in hazmat suit Thank you for the interview.

Nuckelavee: Through the hanging mouth of a horse and its rider man Save your false gratitude.

Nuckelavee: I seek neither your accolades nor your ponderous questioning.

Human Reporter: Then why did you come at all?

Nuckelavee: For all of humanity to know that their end will soon be at hand, and it will be by my machinations shall you fall.

Human Reporter: Forgive me but you remind me of the four horseman.

Nuckelavee: *laughs

Nuckelavee: Ah yes, the fear of the southerners was so rich when they first laid eyes on me.

Nuckelavee: They had come to preach the word of their god, so it was only fitting I made them scream out to their savior as I peeled the flesh from their bones. The look of abandonment they gave was so amusing I allowed the last of them passage back to their stone temples.

Nuckelavee: So wrought with horror they were that when they scampered back their minds could not conceive such malevolence as a singular being.

Human Reporter: So you are claiming to be the inspiration for the four horsemen?

Nuckelavee: There can be no other.

Human Reporter: If that was the case are you not upset you were depicted as such?

Nuckelavee: In the end I shall feast on you all; what mind have I to care for such trivialities?

#humans are weird #story #writing #original writing #niqhtlord01 #funny #mythology #mythical #lore #fantasy

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short-honey-badger · 13 days ago

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Peppermint Tea 36 - Hibiscus 1

Summary: The bun in OUT of the oven. Mihawk and Shanks meet another female they'd burn the world for.

*warnings* childbirth. I'm no doctor so I tried my best!

Notes* There’s a lot that happens in this chapter! I've got one more planned to wrap this monster of a fic up and then an epilogue with an open ending if I want to come back to this and do little one-shots or what have you. I really hope everyone who's been with me through this has enjoyed! ❤️❤️

Peppermint Tea Masterlist-> HERE

A scream rips from your throat, chest heaving as tears stream down your face when pain arcs up your back. Both of your hands are occupied, Mihawk on one side and Shanks on the other. This was hour two of your labor, the Red Force having arrived on Sphinx Island just in time for your water to break, sending you and the two men that had done this to you into a panic. Mihawk did a good job of hiding it, but Shanks could see the anxiety lingering in those golden eyes. The redhead wasn’t doing a great job of hiding how worried he was, but he was here and that was all that mattered right now.

Marco, bless him, stood at the end of the table, hands gloved and surgical mask on as he peeked between your legs, “Just a little more, _. I can see their head, you’ve got this.”

The ex-commander of the Whitebeard Pirates hadn’t thought that he would wake up this morning and deliver a baby, especially a child made from two of the most powerful men in the Grandline, but here he was. Not that he was complaining, mind you, he was a doctor, and that meant it was his obligation to help those in need. After having the three of you in his office, he decided that they needed all the help they could get.

You grit your teeth, brow furrowing as you do as instructed. There was so, so much pain, and if you hadn’t been coated in your boys’ haki, you were sure you would have burst into snowflakes after the first contraction had hit. You weren’t used to pain. You had always been careful your entire life and cautious, so this was excruciating. You gripped their hands harder, nails biting into their flesh as you pushed again.

The morning after your reunion with Shanks and Mihawk, they had taken you aside and listed off the men and women who they knew to be doctors. You had immediately declined the help of Tony Tony Chopper, not wanting an underage reindeer to be the one to deliver your baby. Crocus and Dr. Kureha were too far away, and closer to your island than where they were now, so that had left Marco the Phoenix.

Shanks had told you that he was a good man, and one that could be trusted to keep you and their daughter a secret, so in the end, it had only been logical that they would contact him and see if he could help. The redhead had grinned and disappeared, only to come back with a snail transponder that was already ringing.

Ca-lick

“Shanks, this better be good and not another attempt to get me to join your crew.”

The redhead had laughed sheepishly, especially after seeing the looks that his treasures had sent him, one of curiosity and the other annoyed. He hadn’t ever mentioned to them that he had tried to recruit the Whitebeard member.

“No, no. Nothing like that. I’ve actually got a favor.”

There was a curious pause on the other side of the phone, and then Marco’s exasperated voice.

“...What kind of favor?”

Seeing the hesitation on Shanks’ face, you rolled your eyes and snagged the snail away from the redhead. Mihawk couldn’t have been more proud.

“Hi, Marco. My name is _. I’ve known Shanks for a while now, and well. I’m having his baby, and he said that you could be trusted. So, could you help us?”

There was another silence over the phone, and if they were at Sphinx, they would have seen Marco’s jaw drop in shock, and then smooth a hand over his face as a weight settled over his shoulders.

“That’s some favor. You must be something special to have gotten him to stay loyal.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, though you glared at the redhead, who wilted further when Mihawk joined you with his own piercing look.

“I can’t take all the credit, I had some help keeping him in line. You’ve met Dracule Mihawk right?”

All you knew about them knowing one another was what the warlord had told you about Marineford, which was before the two of you had met. You understood that it was a huge battle between the navy and pirates, and you’d been surprised that Mihawk had fought for the Marines at first, but he’d explained what his duties as a warlord entailed, so you kind of understood. It’d make you giggle when he admitted he left, he refused to say escaped, when Shanks had shown up.

“...An emperor and a warlord? Should I be worried about my health?”

You could hear the joking tilt in Marco’s voice, and it made you like him even more. The two of you spoke for a while longer, the doctor in him coming out and inquiring about your health before he’d given the okay.

“Sounds like to me you’ll arrive at Sphinx about the time for you to give birth. Stay off your feet as much as you can these next weeks, and I’ll send Shanks the coordinates to the island. It was good to meet you, _.”

You’d smiled and thanked the doctor, and then ended the call. Mihawk had taken it away to set aside, and then the two of you rounded on Shanks, twin glares that had the redhead shrinking away.

“I think we should remind our dear Shanks why he stays loyal to us, don’t you think, my dear?” Mihawk had rumbled and advanced on the other man, a possessive gleam in his golden eyes. You’d gotten quite the show that morning.

“Fuck both of you,” you snarl hotly and glare at both men, eyes alight with fury as you take short, stuttering breaths, trying to keep yourself from passing out from the pain. Marco was a doctor, and a good one at that, but childbirth wasn’t something that he did very often, so he didn’t keep very strong painkillers on hand, “We’re never having sex again.”

Shanks can’t help but laugh, though it ends with a wince when you squeeze his hand so hard his bones ache. He didn’t realize that you had such a good grip.

“You say that now, my love,” Mihawk murmured beside you, and you gave him a smile full of teeth. It was not a nice one.

“I’ll castrate you both.”

Marco glared at all of them, eyes narrowing in on the two men, “And I’m going to help her if you two don’t stop distracting her. Come on, _. You’re almost there.”

You scream again and put all of the strength you’ve got left into the next push, and then you feel a sudden relief, fluid and blood leaking from between your legs. All you want to do is sleep, but then you hear a piercing cry, and all that exhaustion leaves you in that moment. Your eyes snap open, and you look across the room at Marco and the screaming baby that he holds in his arms.

“Oh.”

You pry your hands from your boys and hold out your shaky arms, tears of elation in your eyes when Marco rounds the bed and offers you the bloody bundle. You feel something in your chest click into place when he settles the babe against your chest, and then Shanks and Miihawk are there, pushed close so that they can see, too.

“A healthy girl. Already has a good set of lungs on her,” Marco says, and you raise the blanket that holds your daughter, cleaning off the gunk that clings to her little face. You smile when she opens her eyes, and then hear a gasp behind you. You look up to see Mihawk staring at their daughter with a rapturous look on his face, ringed eyes wide as he reaches out to gently rub his thumb over her cheek.

“Your eyes, darling,” you say, and then you are wiping at her hair, expecting the red of blood to fall away and reveal dark hair, but the tint just doesn’t want to leave. You lick your lips, eyes going wide as you look at Shanks, “And your hair.”

Marco watches the happy couple, throuple, really, with a small smile, though he is a little confused because that’s definitely not how genetics work. He wonders if it had something to do with you. Regardless, the three of you had made a beautiful child, and he was sure that she would turn heads when she got older. He steps forward with an apologetic look.

“Not to break this up, but I need to stitch you up, _.”

You grimace at what he says and reluctantly hand your daughter off to MIhawk who takes her with gentle hands. He steps back and Shanks takes his spot, offering you his hand when Marco crouches between your legs to clean you up. You wince at the feeling, but it is nothing compared to birthing your daughter.

Mihawk stares down at the babe in his arms. He can’t seem to take his eyes off of her, for she is the sweetest, and most beautiful being he has ever laid eyes on. She is pale, fair-skinned like her uncle Tomura, but her eyes and hair were all his and Shanks. She was a perfect combination of the man and woman that Dracule loved, of all three of them. For the first time in decades, he feels his eyes grow wet, a lump in his throat as he holds his daughter close. He would burn the world for her if she so desired.

“Mihawk,” you call to him softly, and he is at your side in an instant. You reach for him and pull him close so that you can press a kiss on his cheek. Shanks is next, and then the three of you are staring at the babe that rests in her father’s arms. She stares up at the blurry figures that she has felt all her life, garbles some nonsense, and promptly closes her eyes. You snort and Mihawk pulls away, reluctantly handing her over to Marco when the doctor asks for her.

“I’ll just be in the other room. Just a quick check-up and I’ll clean her for you, too,” He assures them, and then he is gone, leaving the three of them alone.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Shanks asks and crouches by your bedside, dark eyes curious and concerned. You give him a tired smile, eyes feeling heavy.

“I’m okay. Exhausted and still hurting, but it’s not bad right now,” You murmur, and despite your tired mind, a thought pops up, “We never thought of any names.”

Shanks laughs, the sound a little wet, and you look over to see tears in his eyes as he reaches out to cup your face in his hand, leaning in to press a kiss to your brow, “We didn’t did we?”

“I did,” Mihawk says, and rolls his eyes when his two lovers give him a look, lips turning up in a tiny, bemused smile.

“Care to share with the class?” Shanks grumbles, and Mihawk flicks the other man’s forehead in retaliation for the attitude.

“Joyeuse,” He says as Marco enters the room, and you reach for your daughter, settling her against your chest and watching her latch with a fond expression, though your eyes widen when Mihawk continues, “Dracule Hibiscus Joyeuse.”

“Bit of a mouthful, but I love it,” Shanks says, and you nod, still in a bit of a daze. You flick your eyes over at the redhead who is smiling so wide that it would blot out the sun, “We’ll call her Joy for short.”

“Darling, what do you think?” Mihawk asks, and you can hear a hint of nervousness in his tone. Wanting to dispel that quickly, you smile up at him, eyes filling with tears once more.

“It’s beautiful, but Dracule? Not Delemur?”

He’d told you your family name on the night he had come clean about his connection to your past. You weren’t complaining, but you were just a little confused. You blink when he smiles down at you, leaning forward to kiss you before he pulls away.

“Of course, darling. You will take my last name as well, once we find someone to bind us.”

Bind us.

“You mean you want to get married?” you blurt a little too loud, and wince when Joyeuse makes an unhappy sound before falling silent again as she nurses.

Mihawk suddenly looks a bit taken aback, and you watch him lick his lips and stand straight. You realize that other than that awful day you sent them away, this was one of the only times you’ve seen the peculiar man nervous.

“Yes, if that is agreeable to you.”

Shanks can’t help but laugh at the scene before him. He and Mihawk had talked about this before, and since he didn’t really have a last name, it only made sense that you would take the warlord's name.

“Look at what you’ve done, baby. Got the hawk all worked up,” He teases with a grin at the other man, “Relax baby, you know that she’ll say yes.”

You don’t even have to think about it. You’ve imagined this far too many times to ever say no.

“Of course, I’d say yes. Why would I not?” You ask, and the warlord looks away, a blush staining his cheeks.

“Our past, my love. I would understand if you would not want to marry the man who lied to you for so long,” He says, and you soften immediately. You adjust Joyeuse in your hold and reach out to snag his hand, holding it tightly and bringing it up to kiss his knuckles.

They had talked about their mistake of keeping secrets in the two weeks it had taken to make it to Sphinx Island. They had promised to never lie to you or each other, vowing that, even if it was something that would make the other mad or upset, it would be spoken about.

“It would make me very happy to be your wife, Mihawk,” you say, and your tone is soft, but brokers no room for any kind of arguments.

Shanks beams when he watches the warlord swoop down and seal his lips against your own in a kiss. It makes his chest alight with happiness to see the two of you and his daughter like this. He had a family now, and there was nothing in heaven or earth that he wouldn’t do for them.

You yawn loudly when Mihawk pulls away, feeling the exhaustion creeping up again. Your daughter has eaten her fill and you allow the warlord to take her away when you look at Shanks, brow furrowed.

“Don’t you want to hold her?”

The redhead licks his lips. He wants more than anything to hold his daughter, but he doesn’t think he would be able to do it properly or without hurting her. So he gives you a weary grin and gestures to the empty sleeve at his side, “I don’t think I can, sweetheart.”

Dracule frowns, looking stern, “Nonsense. Sit, Shanks.”

The redhead does as ordered quickly, recognizing that no-nonsense tone that his lover adopts when he refuses to back down on something. He steps closer and adjusts Shanks’ arm, and Marco helpfully hands over a folded towel to make a sort of nest in the crook of his arm before Mihawk carefully lays his daughter against the redhead’s chest.

Shanks can’t help but hold his breath, eyes wide and fearful when she is sat down. He tightens his arm, worried that she might fall, but Joyeuse just makes tiny baby sounds and drools against his shirt, content as can be. He doesn’t realize that he is crying until his eyes go blurry, his lip tucked between his teeth to try and stop the sob that wants to wrack his chest.

“Gods she’s so tiny, “ He whispers, and Mihawk snorts from where he stands behind him. He leans down to reach out, trailing the back of his knuckles along her cheek. Joy opens her eyes at the touch and glares up at her fathers, which only makes Shanks let out a wet snicker.

“She already has your looks, Hawkeye.”

You watch them from where you lay in the bed, heart light with contentment. You can’t help but think that her name fits your daughter. She would bring these two men so much joy in the years to come, and you couldn’t wait for the three of you to get back home and discover what parenthood entailed. However, thinking about your home makes your heartache. You would no longer be safe on your island. Too many people knew about it now, and you were certain that the Big Mom pirates had destroyed everything that you had worked so hard to build.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Not in too much pain, are you?” Marco asked when he heard you sniffle from the bed. Shanks and Mihawk zeroed in when you sniffed again and raised a hand to wipe at your eyes.

“It’s manageable right now. That’s not what I’m crying over. My home, my island isn’t fit to raise her, not anymore,” you say and by the looks on their faces, they knew it to be true too, “Where are we going to go?”

You don’t think you could live on a ship, and while Gloom Island could have been an option once upon a time, Mihawk had gotten word that the warlords were to be disbanded after the mess that happened in Dressrosa. It was a relief that he and Perona hadn’t been there when the Navy had shown up to try and arrest him via Buster Call. It had infuriated the now ex-warlord to know that his home for the past decade had been destroyed, all that knowledge lost to the ages, all his worldly possessions lost to the sea.

“You can stay here for a while? Sphinx is too poor to be on the navy’s radar, and the people here won’t pass up the added protection,” Marco suggests with a shrug, “Plus I’ll be able to keep an eye on you and Joy.”

It’s not a bad idea, but it still wouldn’t be a long-term solution. Regardless, you gave Marco a kind smile and dipped your head in a nod.

“Thank you, Marco. I’ll make sure they stay on their best behavior.”

Shanks makes an affronted sound and Mihawk rolls his eyes at your quip, lips pursed in a pout, though he’d never call it one.

“We’re not that bad,” Shanks grumbles petulantly, and his daughter fusses at the tone. He winces and drops his tone into a whisper, “Sorry sweetheart, your momma is being mean to your daddy.”

You roll your eyes at them and share a look with the doctor who laughs and goes to step out of the room, “I’ll be back in a while. I’m going to see if I can’t find you a house to settle down in. I won’t be far if you need me.”

-----

Marco indeed finds the four of you a house near the shore that’d been abandoned for a while. It needed some work done, but it wasn’t like the Red-Haired pirates were doing much right now and had gladly volunteered to fix it up. They had fallen head over heels for Joyeuse once they had been able to meet her. Marco had kept you in the small operating room for a week, just to make sure that you and your daughter were healthy enough to start moving around.

You needed help, a lot of help actually, but Shanks and Mihawk jumped into action the second that they noticed you needed something. Joy grew stronger every day she was in the world, big golden, ringed eyes curious about everything around her. Her hair had darkened as well, and now was only a shade darker than Shanks’ own. You couldn’t help but wonder how else she would change as the years passed by.

Mihawk and Shanks flanked the two of you as you waddled into your new home. Shanks’ crew had done a fantastic job with remodeling the house. It was quite a bit more modern compared to your cottage, but that didn’t bother you. You were just happy that you could sit down on a comfy couch while your boys took care of Joy.

Yasopp, who had taken one look at her and burst into tears, blubbering about how cute Usopp had been when he was born, brought down your fur children, and they would finally be meeting your daughter.

Hank carefully crept forward, nose sniffing loudly. He had known that you were carrying a pup, had known even before you did, and it filled the old dog with glee to know that you had finally given birth. He carefully climbed up the couch, his upper body close to his mother, and took in his new sister with big brown eyes, and then glanced up at you when your hand came down on his shaggy head.

“This is Joy, Hank. You’ve gotta protect her like you did me, okay?” you whisper and the dog whines, nudging forward to sniff at the pup and memorize her scent like he has done for you and the two men who had become a part of their family. Hank would make sure that nothing would come to harm his baby sister, he was the eldest after all.

A loud meow introduces his little brother, and Hank watches the orange fluff ball jump up on the couch, big golden eyes searching out their mother when he finally realizes that there is something in her arms. Sukuna eyes the babe, eyes narrowing as he flicks them up to you and yowles again.

Joy grumbles and cracks her eyes open, meeting the gaze of the loud thing that wouldn't let her sleep. Sukuna and she stared at each other for a while, the cat slowly deciding that the kit wasn't too bad since she was being so quiet, and began to loudly pur. You can't help but laugh softly when Joyeuse goes straight back to sleep.

You adjust your daughter so that you can scratch behind the cat's ears, and Sukuna just purrs louder for you. It makes you happy that they had accepted Joyeuse so quickly into the tiny pack that the three of you had been, and couldn't help but think about how much it's grown in the past couple of years.

What once had been just you and Hank had turned into you Hank and Mihawk. And then he had brought in a tiny, angry kitten and an ornery goat. Shanks had come along as if he was always meant to find your tiny island and with him the gift of your chickens. There was just one thing that you felt that was missing. Your brother, Tomura. The man that you could hardly even remember.

“Darling, is something wrong?”

Mihawk's voice brings you out of your thoughts and you glance up to give him a small smile, shaking your head.

“Nothing wrong, per se, but… Mihawk you told me about my brother. I want to meet him again. Joy should know her uncle.”

The ex-warlord purses his lips. He hadn't mentioned the marine because he was selfish and wanted to keep you all to himself, but he should have known that you would ask about your brother at some point.

“He is waiting for us at your island. I didn't want to overwhelm you with someone new after what happened,” He says and joins you on the couch, taking Joyeuse when you hand the babe over so that you can stretch your arms over your head.

“Then I'll talk to Marco about my brother coming here,” you say, and Mihawk gives you a look over his daughter's head.

“He is a vice-admiral in the navy, my love. Do you really think that would be wise?”

You frown and cross your arms over your chest. You don't want to do anything to get Marco in any kind of trouble or put Sphinx in the eyes of the military, but Tomura was your brother. You couldn't just leave him out of your life, “Can I call him, at least?”

“Who do you want to call, sweetheart? The most important people in your life are right here,” Shanks teases when he walks into the living room. He'd been busy catching up with Marco and getting the down low about what was happening around the island. Turns out not much.

“My brother, Shanks. I want to get to know him again, and he deserves to know that he's got another family member,” you tell him and the redhead makes an ohhh sound, his dark eyes wide as he smiles.

“Don't worry about that, baby. I called him before we even made it to Sphinx. He'll be here in a week or two,” Shanks says proudly, and shrugs at the annoyed look that Mihawk gives him, “We can't keep them apart forever, you know.”

Mihawk sneers and rolls his eyes, “And why didn't you mention anything?”

Shanks just beams and steps close to you, sliding his arm carefully around your stomach as he presses a kiss to the side of your head, “It wouldn't have been a surprise if I had.”

You snicker and tuck yourself closer to the redhead, elated that you would see your brother in the next coming weeks. Your life has changed so much since meeting Dracule Mihawk, in ways that you'd never expected, but you wouldn't give it up for the world

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winxanity-ii · 2 months ago

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SCARLET CHAINS, GOLDEN RIDDLES

ship: kurapika x fem!sphinx!reader warnings: non-explicit ( kinda angsty/sad, but it does have a bittersweet romance, so… win?) word count: 5.3k a/n: I know i said i wouldn't do it now, but i couldn't help my self, loloo. also this piece was inspired by a tweet from Kayla Ancrum (@KaylaAncrum), where she wrote about a man who falls in love with a sphinx and solves her riddles daily. I just had to explore that dynamic with Kurapika and a Sphinx reader! Let me know what y'all think! 🖤✨

★·.·´🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ × 🇭‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Revenge doesn't always bring peace; sometimes it leaves behind something far more haunting.

Kurapika had fulfilled his mission, dismantling the Phantom Troupe and retrieving the Scarlet Eyes that once belonged to his kin. He should have felt victorious, perhaps even a semblance of peace, but instead, he felt hollow, drifting aimlessly in the vastness of the world.

The weight of his chains was gone, but the burden on his heart remained.

In restless strides, he wandered the lands, searching for something he couldn't quite name—purpose, healing, or perhaps a way to finally let go of the rage that had kept him alive for so long.

The bustling city streets did little to distract him from his turmoil.

Kurapika walked among strangers, his eyes scanning the faces that passed by, not really seeing them. The chatter and noise of life around him felt distant, a muffled echo that never reached his ears.

He just got off the phone with Gon, a short conversation that was filled with concern on Gon's part. Kurapika assured him he was fine, though the words tasted like lies even as they left his mouth.

The city was filled with countless distractions—stalls selling exotic wares, street performers drawing in crowds—but Kurapika moved through it all like a ghost.

It was only when he came across a particular stand filled with unique, almost mythical items that he found himself pausing.

There were trinkets, stones carved with symbols he couldn't recognize, feathers from birds that didn't exist in any book he'd ever read, and even vials of shimmering liquid.

Something about the stand drew him in, perhaps the promise of the unknown, the mystery of it all.

As Kurapika stared at a curious amulet shaped like an eye, a voice broke through the haze of his thoughts. "You look like a young man filled with woes."

Turning, he found an old woman seated just beyond the stand, her eyes rooted intently on him.

She was small, her back slightly hunched, with eyes that seemed to look right through him. Her wrinkled hands rested on a small table, a crystal ball sitting between them.

Her presence was almost otherworldly, and Kurapika couldn’t help but feel as if she had been waiting for him.

"Your heart is heavy," she continued, her voice soft but firm, like the rustling of ancient leaves. "You have found what you sought, but now you are lost. Seeking something else, aren't you?"

Kurapika frowned, his first instinct to brush her off, to walk away. He had no time for fortune tellers or their vague prophecies. But something in her gaze held him in place.

Maybe it was the fact that she was right—he was lost, more lost than he had ever been.

Before he could respond, the old woman reached beneath her table and pulled out a worn piece of parchment. She handed it to him, her eyes never leaving his. "Take this map. It shows places where you might find what you seek. A journey is ahead of you, young man, one that may finally bring you peace."

Kurapika took the map, his fingers brushing against the rough surface. He hesitated, staring down at the faded ink and the strange symbols marking various locations. "What kind of journey?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

The old woman smiled, a mysterious curve of her lips. "One that will lead you to the answers you need, not the ones you want. Follow the map, and you may find more than you ever hoped for."

Kurapika glanced at the map again, the markings seeming to shift under his gaze, almost as if they were alive.

He had nothing left to lose.

With a nod, he folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket, a small spark of something—curiosity, hope—lighting within him.

His travels took him far from the crowded city, into remote villages and forgotten paths.

He heard tales whispered in the dark corners of taverns—rumors of a remote island untouched by time, home to creatures that should have only existed in myths.

The locals spoke of a sphinx—a creature of immense power, wisdom, and mystery. She was said to guard an ancient temple on an isolated island, her riddles a fatal test for any who dared approach.

She could devour the souls of those who failed or offer wisdom to those who succeeded.

It was said that she embodied both mercy and cruelty, bound by the ancient rules of her riddles.

Kurapika's interest was piqued. Perhaps this creature held the answers he sought, or at least the challenge he needed.

Something to pull him out of the hollow void that had settled within him.

The island was not marked on any ordinary map, but the worn parchment he carried seemed to lead him there, the strange symbols aligning with the whispered directions he gathered from those who dared speak of the place.

And so, Kurapika found himself standing on the deck of a small fishing boat, the salty wind tugging at his hair as the island came into view—a shadow against the horizon, shrouded in mist.

He felt a strange pull, a sense that whatever awaited him there might finally give him the closure he needed. He had faced monsters before, both human and otherwise, but something about this journey felt different.

As if, perhaps, it wasn't just about finding answers—but about finding himself.

The island loomed closer, and with it, the promise of riddles, danger, and maybe, just maybe, a way to heal the wounds that revenge had left behind.

Kurapika spent the first few days exploring the island, his feet carrying him along unfamiliar paths, his eyes scanning for clues hidden among the dense forest and crumbling ruins.

He learned the lay of the land—the twisting vines, the rocky cliffs that overlooked the endless ocean, and the small creatures that scurried away at his approach.

The island seemed to breathe, its secrets waiting just beneath the surface, and he was determined to uncover them.

After days of exploring, Kurapika made his way back to the nearby village, his supplies dwindling and his body weary.

It was night by the time he arrived, the village bathed in the soft glow of lanterns, casting long shadows across the cobbled streets.

He found a small tavern at the edge of the village, its warm light spilling out onto the street, the murmur of voices inviting him in.

Kurapika entered, the scent of roasted meat and freshly baked bread filling the air. He made his way to an empty table in the corner, ordering a simple meal and a drink.

The tavern was lively; villagers and travelers alike gathered to unwind, their laughter and chatter a comforting background to his solitude.

He ate slowly, savoring the warmth of the food, the taste of something other than the dried rations he had carried with him.

As he ate, he noticed a small crowd beginning to gather near the fireplace at the center of the room. The voices quieted, replaced by the expectant hush of an audience waiting for a story.

Kurapika's gaze shifted, his interest piqued as an elderly man stepped forward, his hands worn and his eyes twinkling with mischief. The storyteller cleared his throat, a smile playing on his lips as he began to speak.

"Gather 'round, gather 'round," the old man said, his voice carrying easily through the room. "I have a tale for you tonight, one of mystery, of danger, and of beauty beyond imagination."

Kurapika leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listened.

The old man spoke of a creature, a sphinx, who guarded a temple deep within the island—a temple known as the Cave of Mysteries. He described the sphinx as both beautiful and terrifying, her eyes holding the weight of ages, her form a paradox of grace and danger.

The crowd leaned in, captivated by the tale, their faces reflecting a mix of awe and fear.

"They say the Cave of Mysteries holds treasures beyond belief," the old man continued, his voice dropping to a whisper that had the crowd hanging on his every word. "Riches enough to buy an empire, secrets that could grant unimaginable power. But the sphinx, ah, she is not easily bested. Many have tried, and all have failed—her riddles are a test of wit and courage, and the price of failure is steep indeed."

The old man finished his tale, the crowd breaking into murmurs, some laughing nervously, others shaking their heads as if dismissing the story as mere legend.

But Kurapika knew better.

He finished his meal, his mind already turning on how to find the temple and to the mysteries that still lay ahead.

The island held more than just danger—it held the promise of something he had never thought he needed.

So, driven by curiosity and the need for a challenge beyond revenge, Kurapika set off to find the temple, unperturbed by the locals' warnings of danger.

And he intended to see it through, whatever the cost.

The whispers of forgotten creatures and the hint of ancient wisdom called to him, a voice that spoke directly to the hollowness he now carried.

His feet followed the clues, ancient symbols etched into rocks and trees, guiding him deeper into the dense forest of the island.

Each step took him further from the familiar and into the unknown—a test he desperately needed.

The journey was arduous, the air thick with the scent of wild vegetation and the distant echo of creatures unseen.

Kurapika's senses were heightened; every sound, every rustle in the underbrush kept him alert.

Anticipation built within him, a sense that something lay ahead—something that might offer answers, or at least a distraction from the gnawing emptiness left by vengeance.

Finally, he stood before it—the temple, a structure both majestic and haunting, half-covered in creeping vines, its stone surface carved with the same symbols that had guided him here.

The temple seemed almost alive, its golden exterior shimmering in the fading sunlight, the intricate carvings depicting stories of ancient gods and creatures long forgotten.

The entrance was framed by towering pillars, their surfaces etched with worn inscriptions, and the air was thick with an aura of both reverence and dread.

The massive doors of the temple were slightly ajar, revealing only darkness within, as if daring anyone to enter.

But at the base of the stairs sat you—the Sphinx; a creature of paradox, you embodied both grace and danger.

Your powerful form rested elegantly, your tail waving languidly in the air, each movement deliberate and filled with quiet confidence.

Your form was powerful, the body of a lioness with muscles rippling beneath golden fur, yet your face held a beauty that was almost human, framed by a mix of a wild mane and intricate braids that shimmered under the fading sunlight.

Your claws were sharp, glinting with an almost metallic sheen, a reminder of the threat you posed to anyone foolish enough to challenge you.

There was an ethereal quality to you, a faint outline of wings that shimmered in the heat, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost unreal, giving you an otherworldly glow.

Your presence exuded power—a quiet intensity that Kurapika could feel even from a distance, a force that seemed to pulse with the very energy of the island.

The power you exuded was palpable, a quiet but overwhelming force that made even the strongest foes Kurapika had faced—the Chimera Ants, the Phantom Troupe—seem almost mundane by comparison.

There was something about you—something far more enigmatic, a blend of wisdom and danger that set you apart.

But it was your eyes that captivated him most.

As those golden orbs landed on him, they shifted, narrowing into sharp, cat-like slits, assessing him with an intensity that made Kurapika's breath hitch.

They were a deep, haunting shade, filled with the weight of centuries, and they seemed to pierce through him, seeing the parts of himself he tried to keep hidden.

In your eyes, he saw a depth of knowledge that surpassed anything he had ever known, and yet there was something else—a loneliness that he understood all too well.

Intrigued and cautious, he stepped forward, his heart steady, his mind sharp.

You watched him approach, your gaze unwavering, your posture regal.

Silence stretched between you, thick with tension and curiosity. You had seen many travelers before him, men who came seeking glory or power, only to fall before your riddles, their bones now part of the island's forgotten past.

But this one was different. He moved with purpose, not arrogance, his eyes holding a quiet determination that piqued your interest.

Your voice broke the silence, echoing through the empty landscape, carrying with it the weight of ages. "Young man, why do you seek me?"

Kurapika paused, considering his words carefully. "I seek answers," he said, his voice steady. "Answers to questions I cannot yet name. I seek something beyond vengeance. Perhaps you can help me find it."

A small smile tugged at your lips—cryptic, almost amused. "Answers come at a cost," you replied. "And only those who prove themselves worthy may proceed."

Without another word, you issued him a riddle, your voice carrying an authority that demanded his attention.

"Boundless am I, beginningless and endless, forever yet never the same. I am the river that flows and the sky that fades; I am possessed by none, yet present in all. What am I?"

The riddle was complex, woven with layers of meaning that had confounded countless before him. You half-expected him to falter, to hesitate as so many others had.

But he didn't.

Kurapika listened, his eyes never leaving yours, his mind dissecting each word, each nuance. His answer came calmly, confidently, his voice unwavering even in the face of your sharp claws and powerful presence. "Time," he said, as though the riddle was a mere puzzle, a challenge he was born to solve.

For the first time in a century, someone answered correctly.

Surprise flickered in your gaze, quickly masked by your stoic demeanor.

You studied him, this young man who had dared to approach you, who had not flinched under your scrutiny. There was something about him—an emptiness, a need that mirrored your own.

You had been bound to this place for so long, your existence woven into the riddle game, your only connection to others through the trials they failed. But this one had succeeded, and by the ancient rules, he had earned a boon.

"What is your request?" you asked, your voice softer now, curious.

Kurapika thought for a moment, his eyes drifting to the temple behind you, then to the sands around your feet. "For my boon, I wish to stay here," he said finally. "To rest beside you, under the stars, and awaken unharmed. Just for a night."

Your breath caught, an unfamiliar feeling tingling down your spine. The request took you by surprise.

It was such a simple one.

Men usually asked for riches, power, or freedom. But to simply… sleep by your side?

Against your better judgment, you found yourself agreeing. Slowly, you nodded, granting him this boon.

"Very well," you said, gesturing to the smooth sand near the temple steps. "You may rest here tonight, beside me. But know this, wanderer—come dawn, the the wheel of fate turns once more and the ritual will begin anew."

Kurapika nodded, a faint smile touching his lips.

As the two of you lay down, he moved closer, settling down on the warm sands beside you, the night sky stretching endlessly above. The stars blinked into existence, one by one, as silence fell over the island once more.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you felt something shift—a connection, fragile yet real, formed between two lost souls seeking solace.

As the night deepened, you watched him, the quiet resolve in his features, the way his eyes softened as he gazed up at the stars.

The silvery light of the stars reflected in his gray eyes, making them seem almost ethereal, as if the heavens themselves had taken refuge within him. A slight, warm breeze rustled through the air, catching in his blonde hair and ruffling it gently, giving him an almost boyish charm.

As he drifted toward sleep, you kept a close watch, noting the softened lines of his face, how the quiet moments seemed to ease the burdens he carried. His breathing slowed, the tension in his shoulders melting away.

There was a peace in the silence between you, a sense that perhaps, in this fleeting moment, neither of you was truly alone.

But you stayed awake, keeping watch, your mind racing with questions. What kind of man asks a creature like you for something so simple, so intimate? Why didn't he fear you, not even a little?

As dawn crept over the horizon, he stirred beside you, stretching slightly before his eyes blinked open, sleepy but clear.

When he saw you watching him, he didn’t startle or flinch. Instead, he smiled—a small, weary smile that tugged at something deep in your chest.

"Thank you," he said, as if he hadn't just put his life in your hands.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning closer. "Why aren't you afraid of me?"

He paused, thinking over his answer. "I've met monsters before," he said quietly. "I've even become one, in a way. But I don't see a monster when I look at you."

A flicker of irritation sparked within you, though it was dulled by something softer. "You don't know what I am capable of," you warned, voice low.

He only tilted his head. "Maybe not. But I'd like to find out."

And so was the beginning of something neither of you could yet name—a bond forged in riddles, silence, and the unspoken understanding of what it meant to be lost.

Each day, Kurapika worked tirelessly, studying the clues you left behind, learning the nuances of your mind through each challenge in your riddles, each more complex than the last.

Each evening, as the sun set and bathed the island in a warm, golden glow, he appeared again at the temple, his determination unwavering. His intelligence and wit kept him alive, his answers keeping him just close enough to be spared as he engaged in a battle of wits with you.

And each night, he solved your riddle with a grace and precision that began to feel almost routine.

Sometimes, he even looked… amused. As if he enjoyed matching wits with you, as if your challenge was something he relished rather than feared.

You were unused to companionship, your existence long defined by solitude and duty. Yet you found yourself anticipating Kurapika's arrival each day.

You began crafting riddles with a new purpose—not simply to guard, but to challenge him in a way that would make him think, to make him understand you. You dug into old tomes, dusted off forgotten phrases, anything to see if you could stump him.

"I am born of light, yet fear its touch. I dance on water, yet drown in its embrace. I am the silent whisper, the unspoken thought. I am the dream, the hope, the despair. What am I?"

"A shadow."

And yet, time and time again, he would answer correctly, and each time, he seemed to edge closer to you—not physically, but in a way that felt far more profound.

Slowly, you allowed him into your world, seeing in him a spirit kindred to your own.

Nights became more intimate, and not simply because he rested beside you. As the stars blinked into existence above, he would sit by your side and speak of his past—of his clan, his grief, the hollow emptiness that followed his revenge.

You listened, silently absorbing each word, drawn to the depth of his pain and the resilience that had brought him here. You saw the weariness in his eyes, the way they sometimes stared at nothing, as if the world held no color for him anymore.

In return, you began to share cryptic stories of ancient times, tales woven with wisdom and longing, fragments of yourself that had remained hidden for centuries.

Your voice, though calm, carried a weight that Kurapika seemed to understand instinctively. He saw through your cold facade, sensing a deep loneliness that mirrored his own.

And so, night after night, the two of you spoke, your conversations shifting from the guarded tension of strangers to the shared musings of two souls seeking meaning.

You spoke of life, of death, of purpose, and in those moments, you realized how much you had missed the simple act of talking, of connecting.

Your dynamic shifted from hostility to mutual respect, and then to something deeper.

The more time he spent with you, the more he began to see you as something beyond a “monster.” He saw you as a being who was as trapped as he was—bound by duty, by the need to protect something, even if it came at the cost of isolation.

The nights spent under the stars became something precious. You both developed a quiet, profound romance—one that transcended physicality, one that was born out of the fragments of yourselves that you shared with each other.

Now, as he rested beside you, he no longer simply lay in the sand, separate from you. Instead, he was practically nestled against your side, his head resting on your flank, his fingers sometimes absently tracing patterns in your fur as if you were a mere cat.

It was a sight that would have been inconceivable to you not long ago—someone finding comfort in your presence, in the warmth of your body. And yet, there was a peace that settled over both of you in those quiet hours, a comfort that neither of you had known in far too long.

Though, despite your growing bond with Kurapika, you were still bound by your nature to defend your territory from outsiders.

When other travelers occasionally arrived, driven by greed or ignorance, they foolishly attempted your riddles. And when they failed—as they always did—you showed no mercy.

You devoured them with the ferocity of a true predator; the golden sands stained a deep crimson with the aftermath of their foolishness, soaking into the sand until the ground seemed to pulse with the memory of their folly.

But instead of recoiling in horror, Kurapika watched silently, his gaze calm and understanding. He never turned away, never judged you for fulfilling your duty.

Instead, he would place a gentle hand on your hide, his touch soothing as you carried out what you must, a silent guardian beside you.

This side of him fascinated you—the way he accepted you, both the monstrous and compassionate facets of your being.

There was a shared acknowledgment between the two of you—an understanding that you were a creature bound by your instincts and duties, and he was unfazed.

To him, you were not simply a monster, but something more, something deserving of compassion and acceptance.

Together, you formed a duo unlike any other—a pair, a bond between a man who understood darkness and a creature who embodied it.

Time passed as if in a dream.

Kurapika came back, night after night, even as the seasons changed. You watched his hair grow lighter, faint threads of silver weaving through the golden strands. His face, once so sharp and intense, softened with age.

The lines that creased his brow told stories of battles fought and challenges faced, but in the quiet moments with you, those lines seemed to ease.

The way he answered your riddles, too, became more thoughtful, less sharp-edged, though he still never faltered. His intelligence remained, tempered now with the wisdom of age rather than the fire of revenge.

One night, after he'd answered another riddle and claimed his boon by your side, you saw him hesitate, his brows furrowing, lips parting as if he was searching for the right words.

His eyes lingered on you, and there was a sadness in them that you’d never seen before. "Do you ever wish… for a different life?" he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned away, not wanting him to see the flicker of longing in your own eyes. "A Sphinx does not wish. A Sphinx exists. That is all," you replied, your voice steady, but there was a tremor beneath the surface, a crack in the armor you had worn for so long.

He didn't respond right away, but you felt his gaze on you, warm and understanding in a way that made your chest ache. "Even monsters can wish for more," he whispered, as if confessing a secret.

The silence between you was heavy, filled with unspoken words and shared pain. You knew that he understood your longing, just as you understood his.

Though you had tried to keep your heart distant, you found yourself more attached with each passing night, each shared breath under the vast expanse of stars.

As the years passed, you noticed his struggle. His occasional lapse in memory, the way he would pause, his brow furrowed as he searched for a name that seemed just out of reach.

The way his body moved slower, the once fluid grace of his steps now tinged with hesitation.

You realized you were growing attached, and in your quiet moments, you wrestled with the strange pull he had over you, your love for him subtly guiding you to keep him close.

The realization was both terrifying and beautiful—a feeling you hadn’t expected to know.

In response, you modified your riddles, the challenges that had once been a fierce contest of intellect slowly transforming into something softer.

You wanted him to succeed, to stay by your side.

You crafted simpler riddles, designed to fit his weakening mind, riddles that spoke more of memory and heart than of cleverness. They took on a painful simplicity: "Do you remember who I am?" and "When is it not sunny out?"

You watched him wrestle with these questions, a tragic yet beautiful contrast to the man he once was.

His eyes, still filled with determination, would meet yours, and he would smile—a gentle, tired smile—as he answered.

You treasured his presence, savoring each answer, each memory shared, knowing that time was slipping away. The silver in his hair grew more prominent, his steps slower, but still, he came to you, night after night, until even the simple act of walking to the temple steps became a laborious task.

One night, as he rested against your side, his head nestled against your golden fur, you lowered your head, nuzzling him softly.

He looked up at you, his gaze tired but content, and whispered, "Thank you... for keeping me." His words were filled with gratitude, a warmth that spread through your chest, and you knew, in that moment, that you would never forget him.

Even as the inevitability of time loomed, you stayed by his side, guarding not only the temple but also the fragile, precious connection you had built.

He was no longer just a challenger, no longer just a man seeking answers—he was Kurapika, the one who had seen you for who you truly were, who had brought warmth and meaning to your existence.

One night, you posed a riddle, your voice as steady as ever: "I know not life, yet I bloom and spread; I am sightless, yet your darkest hour, I shall guide you to light. What am I?"

His answer faltered. His eyes, now clouded with age, stared at you, his once steady voice weak and trembling as he began to speak. "I... I think..." He paused, blinking, his brows furrowing in concentration, trying to grasp the answer that seemed just out of reach.

His body had grown frail, his hands unsteady, and he blinked, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find the words that had always come so effortlessly before.

You could see the confusion in his gaze, a flicker of fear that he had never shown before—a fear not of you, but of the inevitable weakness that was overtaking him.

Your heart pounded, an unfamiliar rhythm that resonated with something deep and instinctual, your animalistic side recognizing this as a cue—the beginning of the end.

A pang of sorrow cut through you, sharp and deep, as you sensed the end drawing near.

You hesitated, torn between your duty as a guardian and the emotions that had grown within you, emotions you had never imagined you were capable of.

The silence stretched between you that night, heavy with the weight of what was left unsaid, and you pondered, thinking up a riddle so simple that he could answer it even in his sleep.

Something that would remind him, and perhaps even you, of the bond you had shared.

"What is your name?" you finally asked, your voice barely above a whisper, carrying the tenderness of the years you had spent together.

Kurapika blinked, and then his eyes softened, recognition flickering back into their cloudy depths. A faint smile curved his lips, tired and gentle. "Kurapika," he answered, his voice cracking, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the night.

He lay down beside you, his body settling into the warm sands, and as his breathing slowed, he reached out, his hand curling into your golden fur. You felt his fingers tighten slightly, a silent reassurance, and you lowered your head, resting it beside him.

You curled your body around him protectively, your tail wrapping gently over his legs, holding him close as if shielding him from the inevitable. The warmth of your form surrounded him, a final comfort as he drifted into the stillness of sleep.

You stayed with him, your gaze fixed on his face, watching as the life slowly faded from his eyes, his final breath a soft sigh against your skin.

The night seemed to hold its breath, the stars above flickering like distant memories, and when the sun finally began to rise, you held his body close, feeling the weight of solitude return, colder and heavier than ever.

You stayed by his side, the warmth of him slipping away, replaced by the coldness of death.

It was a pain you hadn't known was possible for a creature like you—raw, deep, and unending. And when the sun rose fully above the horizon, bathing the island in its golden light, you knew what you had to do.

In a macabre but loving ritual, you devoured him piece by piece as a way of keeping him close forever. Each bite was filled with sorrow, each fragment of him a reminder of what you had shared.

You would honor him, keep his bones, bleach them under the sun until they were as pale as the sands, and decorate yourself with them.

His ribs became part of your mane, his finger bones woven into the braids of your hair, a token of the only man who ever dared to love the monster.

Days came and went, the seasons changing once again, but you felt the emptiness like a hollow ache, a void that nothing else could fill.

The silence was unbearable, the absence of his presence echoing through the temple, through your very soul.

Beneath the temple's golden arches, you remained, gaze fixed upon the endless horizon. You waited, as you always would, watching for any soul who might bear even a glimmer of the quiet strength and resolve he had shown you.

And even though you knew he would not return, even though you had consumed his body and held his memory within you, a part of you still hoped.

Hoped for the impossible, for a presence that could bring warmth to the cold emptiness left behind.

Because as a wise person once told you, monsters, after all, could still wish.

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thicctails · 3 months ago

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I absolutely LOVE your Mythology Falls AU designs, but I’m curious on why you chose the ones that you did.

I'm so happy you like it! Let's go down the list, shall we?

Dipper: I love the Sphinx!Dipper from Nightrizer's take on Monster Falls, but I didn't want to go that route since these are supposed to be an original take on idea of everyone becoming creatures of myth and legend. The first reason I chose a Gryphon for our beloved Pine Tree because they represent traits like bravery, wisdom, and power. Obviously, Dipper isn't the strongest character in Gravity Falls, but when the chips are down, he isn't afraid to start beating the hell out of whatever is terrorizing him, no matter how much stronger they may be.

The second reason is because I wanted to do something with owls and cheetahs for Dipper. I chose the barn owl because their feathers actually do kinda resemble the colours I chose for Dipper's feathers, and also because they're my favourite species of owl. Both owls and cheetahs are nervous creatures with high pitched calls, which I think fits Dipper very well haha.

Mabel: While I like the idea of Mabel being some kind of water creature, I think her being a mermaid would cause quite a few issues with mobility. I went with a selkie because not only are baby seals fricken adorable (especially harp seals, which is what her coat is based on), but it also allows her to keep her iconic sweater look! Now she can be fashionable on land, and utterly adorable in the water. There's also the added risk of someone trying to take her coat, but when one of your Grunkle's is a dragon, and the other is a kelpie, most people get the hint not to try anything.

Grunkle Stan:

Haha, come on, you see it, right?

Really, though, while Stan may love money, and everyone assumes that he would be hoarding crisp dollar bills, his real horde is actually his house and all those within it. He loves his family more than life itself, and anyone who brings them harm is going to be getting a face full of flames. He's big, grumpy, and looks like he'd be nothing more than a dumb brute, but in reality he's a big softie who could outsmart most anyone who crossed him.

Ford: Kelpies look beautiful, friendly, and enticing, promising fun and adventure, if you only would come closer and climb atop their back. However, this is only a farce, and now you're being dragged down into the dark depths of a lake or river. While Ford wasn't drowning anyone as a human, he certainly dragged McGucket down a dark path, often bringing him into dangerous situations, and he almost did the same to Dipper, although not intentionally. However, they are not always bad, and if you can slip a bridle over a Kelpie's head and tame it for a time, they'll tirelessly help you with whatever you need.

They were also said to be shapeshifters, often taking the form of a man. Whether or not Ford will figure this out remains to be seen (hopefully no one sticks him in a cage and threatens to freeze him!)

Soos: The world's most perfect man deserves a nobel and revered creature. Qilins are gentle, benevolent protectors, and unlike unicorns, they really can see into someone's heart! I wanted Soos to have an overwhelmingly friendly and loved mythological form, so a Qilin seemed like a natural fit.

Wendy & McGucket: two North American cryptids, neither one having much to go on. I chose a Splintercat for Wendy, both because its a lumberjack legend, and because this lynx-like beast topples whole trees with ease by smashing into them which reminded me of Manly Dan, who is also a Splinter Cat.

As for poor old Fiddleford, I made him into a Glawackus because 1. tell me that name isn't something he'd say.

and 2. Glawackuses are said to have the ability to erase the memories of anyone who looks into their eyes. I made it so that the eye that is covered by his green eyeglass is safe to look into, while the other will cause memory loss.

#gravity falls #ask #au #gravity falls au #dipper pines #mabel pines #stanley pines #stanford pines #soos ramirez #wendy corduroy #fiddleford mcgucket #mythology falls #monster falls

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ranticore · 1 month ago

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answering all my asks in a big bunch

@help-system

it's kind of cool to think about actually & something i didn't consider (re: the implications for future generations). the reason he has to stay in a town flock isn't just because he's formed attachments there, but because he is vision-impaired and his feathers are fucked from lack of structural pigment and would struggle to live without the support system (for lack of a better term) of the town around him. his survival depends on living in a society. that also means he'll survive to pass on this trait when otherwise he would not. it's recessive so yeah could definitely be passed on!

@focshi

Oh habitat & life habits change the look of the nests completely. for the ama plains eagle harpies I was imagining a kind of gourd-shaped woven bower.. sortaaa like this as the eastern edge of the plains (where they live) has emergent columnar basalt and it's on these big stone stacks where they make their nests. use rope and picks to secure the bowers to the columns and the king's eyrie (the tallest one naturally) is built around a log tied upright with guy-ropes driven into the stone. they are all flexible enough that they blow around a lot in the wind without suffering much damage (see pic below)

in between them are net-like rope platforms and ladders as well as more 'spires' which are the trees propped upright on the columns. solid stone is the only safe 'ground' material to build nests on.

@gardenergulfie many of the monsters were bound by additional magical rules on top of the "you are twisted into a monstrous form" main thing. i hadn't thought of many tbh but i believe sphinxes were more strictly bound by their riddle names rather than just doing it playfully by choice, i know there was more but it escapes me. i'll have to think of some!

wyrms are cursed with immortality in a very classical sense so it would be impossible for Revelation not to be around in Cuinn's time. but ah... i wouldn't say it's in a good state

wildfire unfortunately is no longer with us. in mind & spirit anyway.

For eagle harpies, baby-rearing is not communal. The parents swap brooding/hunting roles (one broods/warms the young, the other hunts, they barely get time to sleep). Once baby is old enough to fly it hops out and joins the other fledglings in their eyrie. Parents rarely have anything to do with them after that but they will occasionally stop by to deliver discipline if they feel their offspring isn't behaving properly.

Partnerships are monogamous (but if the king wants your girl then that's his girl for the night) and last as long as any relationships might; could be many years, could barely last a season. there's a stigma against breaking up while tending a nest so some harpies with relationship problems tough it out for the sake of the kids (this never works)

The king does not care about his offspring as people, only as tokens of his virility and strength. Kings often boast of how many offspring they have (and the All-King can have hundreds) but do they know all (or even any of) their kids' names? of course not

Regular cobs do most of the fathering because most flocks don't have a king and they have to reproduce somehow. There's no visible difference between the offspring of a king vs the offspring of a cob. eggs is eggs

Eagle harpy pens can lay up to 4 eggs in one nesting season. Sibling aggression is common in the early days and if unsupervised they can kill one another but that's seen as a sign of lazy and inattentive parenting UNLESS the baby being picked on was kinda runty and then it's their own fault for being a whimp and they should toughen up. Parents can lay unfertilised eggs but rarely do, it's similar to a false pregnancy. Unfertilised eggs are eaten. Harpies of different species base cannot interbreed, but bear in mind that harpy species diversity is overall much lower than birds.

Eagle harpies are VERY protective of their eggs. It's not unheard of for other harpies of the same eyrie to steal their neighbours' eggs for various reasons (you can gain favour if you have one of the king's offspring in your nest....). many predators also might want to take some as well (sphinxes are... very ferocious predators of harpies, but also you gotta watch out for that little human who might have ambitions of being a falconer). parents will guard their eggs viciously.

I don't think it's unreasonable to imagine such a scam tbh... yeah sure take this egg it'll tooootally hatch into a big strong harpy. human falconers probably candle their eggs frequently to monitor them so i think they would catch on very quickly though hehe

#ice storm over kosa #harpy time

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goingsunnythousandmerry · 8 months ago

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Hiiiii, I'm a new follow who got absolutely smitten with your work!

I saw your last post anddd I just decided to drop by this ask!

So, umm, I really crave this man named Marco I love so much like fr I'm crazy about this guy lmao 💀 anyways can I possibly get a Marco x F!reader idk just some fluff stuff with this man I really think he's super affectionate and smitten with his partner sooo can I get morning with him or something like that? Like reader waking him up for some coffee and then him taking maybe a shower and shaving while maintaining his mini beard (stache is that what its called? Idk) while reader watching him admiring him and then marco notices her and sooo you know the idea! Could be SFW or NSFW you choose the best thing you see coming up eith the plot please!

Hopefully, I didn't make this hard for you but really I love your fics so muchhhh like literally you really share the same way of thinking of the characters personalities and actions as me so I'm loveeeeee!

Anyway call me strawberry!

thank you!

Stay safe out there!

XOXO

Hey Strawberry! Here is my go at your request. Thanks for the suggestion, I had fun writing it! It kind of ties in to my Marco x Reader fluff I posted earlier today, but if you didn't like that or don't want to read that I'll give another short scenario here. It's short and sweet. I'll do a Marco NSFW hopefully in the next couple of days. Plan is to have it fit in with this fic and my earlier posted marco fluff fic. Hope you enjoy! If we want more Marco or someone else, like, comment, request below! Thanks friends!

Warnings: Suggestive, Fluff, SFW, petnames, spoilers for WANO, I do not own these characters

Scene Set up: Either follows my previous post Falling for Marco the Phoenix or You, a former member of the Whitebeard Pirates, decide to go with Marco to Sphinx Island to help protect Pop's home Island. After living on the island awhile, you and Marco confess your feelings for one another. This fic takes place the next morning as you begin to go about your routines as a couple in the same house.

A Morning with Marco

The next morning, you rolled over in bed to find Marco’s side empty. You lifted your head and looked around the room. You noticed the door to the bathroom was closed and it dawned on you that you could hear the sound of the shower running. You smiled as you realized besides the sound of the water, you could also hear Marco humming in the shower. You laughed as you heard him break out in song. You rolled on your back and listened to him for a few minutes, before finally deciding to make some coffee. You crawled out of bed and found Marco’s purple dress shirt still on the floor. You put it on and buttoned the two middle buttons, knowing full well it showed off some of your cleavage and cut open just above your mid-thigh.

You walked to the kitchen and measured out the coffee grounds and poured water into the pot, then hit the power button. You reached into the cabinet and pulled out two mugs. You noticed you heard the water stop running. You still heard the faint sound of Marco humming and singing. You still couldn’t believe yesterday had been real. Marco had feelings for you, he had kissed you, then, well you had last night with Marco… you smiled as you thought back on the details. You were hoping for a reenactment as soon as possible. You heard the bathroom door open and were immediately broken from your daydream.

You looked at the coffee pot and noticed there was enough for two cups already brewed and quickly poured them. You returned the pot to the stream of brewing coffee and picked up your two coffee filled mugs. You walked back into the bedroom and smiled as you rounded the far side of the bed, which allowed you to see into the opened bathroom door. Marco was shaving his stubble in the mirror, wrapped only in a towel that covered his waist. His tattooed chest still glistened with water droplets as his wet hair lay messily atop his head. You walked to the bathroom doorway and leaned against it, a giant smile plastered on your face.

“I kind of liked the full stubble look.” You said.

“Oh.” Marco asked as he turned his gaze from his reflection, to over his shoulder to look at you. “Well how about half of it?” Marco asked as he set down his razor and came towards you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and rubbed his half shaved neck against your cheek. You laughed as you held the full coffee mugs away from the two of you in one hand and grabbed his arm with your free hand.

“Marco, I’ll spill the coffee!” You gently yelled.

“Coffee? Is one for me?”

“Of course.” You said with a laugh.

You handed Marco the mug and he brought it closer to his lips, still holding onto your waist with his other hand. You moved your hand to his chest and brought your coffee mug to your face. You hoped the mug covered your blush as you admired the build of the man before you. Marco’s lips parted around the rim of the mug and he smiled at you as he took a sip. As he lowered his mug, he looked down at your body and noticed what you were wearing.

“Well you win. That shirt looks better on you than me.”

“You think so?” You laughed as you played with the collar of the shirt that hung near your cleavage.

“Mhhmm.” Marco said as he took another sip. “Thanks for the coffee, babe. You make it way better than I do.” He added as he pulled you closer and kissed your forehead.

You pushed against his chest as he kissed you and laughed.

“That’s because Thatch never taught you guys how to make coffee. Anyways! Finish shaving! It tickles too much!” You cried and Marco laughed in response.

Marco let go of your waist and returned to the sink. He set down his coffee mug and returned to shaving. You stayed leaning against the doorway and watched him as he finished up. Marco returned to humming as he worked. A wide smile rested upon your lips. He stopped in the middle of his razor swipe and looked over his shoulder at you once more.

“What are you smiling about? Is my performance that good?” He asked with a laugh.

“What? Oh yes, it is.”

“Hmmm… well what’s your favorite part?” He urged as his eyes narrowed studying your expression.

“Hmm…” You took another sip of coffee and studied your surroundings trying to pretend to think hard. “The outfit. The towel only. I like the look.”

“Yeah. Is that what has you smiling?” He asked with an eyebrow raise.

Marco gripped the counter tighter as you took another sip of your coffee. You looked at the ground between the two of you, then scanned up his body until your eyes met.

“No.” You said as a devious grin formed on your face. “Knowing what’s underneath has me smiling.” You added with a blush as you raised your coffee mug to cover it.

You raised your eyebrows and backed out of the doorway.

“Is that so..?” Marco asked curiously.

Marco grinned at you then picked up his razor and finished shaving. You moved to sit on the bed to finish your cup of coffee. After a few minutes Marco exited the bathroom. As he entered the bedroom, still in his towel only, you set your coffee mug down on the table beside you. He jumped on the bed and rolled on top of you, where he slammed his soft lips against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck as his hands began to roam your body. You stroked Marco’s bottom lip with your tongue. His lips parted allowing you to intertwine your tongue with his. Marco’s hands started undoing the buttons of your shirt as your hands rifled through his hair.

His lips separated from yours. He looked into your (E/C) eyes warmly. He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

“You can make coffee, taste like coffee, and you’re beautiful. How’d I get so lucky?”

“I don’t know, if I had to guess, it was the singing. I hope I get a show like that every morning.” You replied with a laugh as you pressed your lips back against his.

Suddenly, there was a knock at your front door. Your lips separated and the two of you panted as you looked towards the main room where the front door was. He looked at you and sighed.

“Marco!” A voice called.

“Coming.” He replied.

Marco climbed off of you and the bed. He quickly grabbed some boxers and a pair of pants from his closet and tossed them on under his towel. He threw the towel back in the bathroom and headed towards the doorway of the bedroom. As he did, you started to get out of bed, but Marco stopped you.

“I’ll be quick I promise.” Marco whispered sweetly.

Marco, kissed your forehead and walked out of the room, cracking the door behind him. As he headed towards the front door, you laid back against the pillows in the bed and decided to wait for him. A smile grew upon your lips as you hoped every morning going forward would be like this, except without a neighborly interruption. Marco opened the front door and you heard him gasp.

“Cat Viper? What are you doing here?” He asked.

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