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angeart · 4 months ago

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hhau vex art part I bonus: a night for living: a pink ribbon [RP]

[6,8k words]

this is a part of my and link's very self-indulgent discord rp. just a chunk of that whole night for living rp that relates to kane being gifted his own ribbon.

the night is in full swing. everyone is tipsy. mr beak gets handed to scar for safekeeping. kane and grian are going to race each other through an obstacle course.

because there's multiple characters here, i tried to keep track of which ones are involved in which replies for you. as per usual, grian bits are me, scar's bits are link, and kane and nico are sort of everywhere.

rp below the cut <3

GRIAN/KANE

it's undeniable that grian's getting excited now. the sky is clear overhead, stars shining. the bonfire crackles, sending sparks up as vexes sing songs that grian doesn't know. the atmosphere gets under his skin, his hands now free, alcohol lending him reckless buzz of warmth as he eyes the course.

"it's a lap or?"

"oh, there's a finish," kane reassures. "you'll know when you reach it." and, without waiting, he starts.

"hey!" grian yelps, scrambling to move and catch up. "i thought you said no cheating!"

"never said that," kane throws him a grin, the look back enough to destabilise him with how tipsy he is. he topples into a barrel, allowing grian to catch up. "anything goes."

"anything but flying," grian remarks, wings flapping as he leaps over the barrel on his side, much cleaner than whatever kane did.

it seems to click then, for kane, that this is a competition. and he loves those. the fierceness lends him strength, clearing some of the fog as he grins sharply and plunges onwards through the obstacles. "yeah."

SCAR/NICO

Scar loves watching Grian sprint about eagerly, wings on display and even being utilized. It warms his heart, seeing Grian in his element like this— competitive and nimble, nothing holding him back.

“I’m also rooting for Grian, but that’s because I love him,” Scar says, not bothering to hide the love dazed tone in his voice.

“Gross.” Nico sticks out his tongue, but then they both laugh, knowing he’s full of it.

GRIAN

the race is surprisingly long, all kinds of things put in their way. it's a bit of a blur as grian gets into it, frantic to be fast, laughing high and manic as he gets ahead of kane, tumbling over obstacles. some of it is bound to leave bruises, but he doesn't care, wings flapping and heart drumming a wild rhythm against his ribs, none of which has anything to do with fear.

he feels alive, as he vaults over things and dips under barriers. flinging himself at climbling walls, scrambling across a roof that was somehow included. his head buzzes, electric and delighted, liking the high spot before he glides off of it, definitely not cheating as his wings flap to carry him further.

kane stands no chance as grian sinks furthter into it, squealing and chirping and happy, skidding through turns until he sees the finish line: a mass of blankets and pillows dragged out, to create a sort of literal line.

grian dives into it, giggling, brain haywire on endorphins thinking nest.

SCAR

It’s about right before the rooftop that Scar gives up on waiting patiently and starts jogging along the sidelines of the race, avoiding all the obstacles and cutting through a line of vex so he can meet Grian at the end.

And oh is he glad he does.

Grian’s laughter carries, catching on the wind like his wings do, soaring toward finish line. Scar leaps up, clapping his hands together as best he can with a bottle and chicken in hand. He didn’t howl before, but now he does, loud and unbidden, a bright glow emanating from his throat as he cheers.

It feels like an old Boatem party. Like carelessness and hilarity. Like specially crafted games that all go so delightfully wrong.

(For once something truly feels akin to home.)

GRIAN/KANE

grian hears scar's howl, recognising his voice instantly. warmth runs down his spine as he realises scar is watching and cheering him, that he's giddy for grian's success. in response, he chirps, high-pitched and overjoyed, even as he keeps himself burrowed in the blankets and pillows, wings flared out, flapping occasionally as he nudges himself further into the perceived nest, high on victory. he's laughing into the soft things, the sound now muffled, free and unbound.

kane glides down, not bothering to run the last bit, knowing he's lost. he's breathing heavily, steps slightly clumsy, the run not doing good things to the alcohol distribution through his body. he pauses at the edge of the blankets, watching grian, all his quips and remarks dying on his tongue.

he's never really seen grian like this.

SCAR

Scar howls again, goofier and with several instances of ow owwws for flare. He rushes over to Grian, fully intending on diving into the blankets with him, but he catches Kane’s gaze first, and he pauses instead.

The two of them lock eyes and Scar smiles brightly, honestly glad that someone else gets to see this— the side of Grian that has Scar absolutely weak in the knees, head over heels, crazy in love.

Scar falls backward, right next to Grian while minding his large wingspan, using his own wings to flap and soften the landing. “You did it!!” Scar cheers, rolling over so he can admire his mate, stars practically visible in his eyes.

GRIAN

grian chirps wildly as he registers scar joining him, and he pounces on him, giddy and giggling. his wings flap, heedless and excited. he's so happy to have his mate here, in the victory nest.

"your sabotage didn't work," he remarks goofily, pressing a kiss to scar's cheek and then holding his lips there as he laughs.

SCAR

“I don’t think anything could have stopped you from winning that! You were a natural! Top notch!” Scar laughs, too, a delighted giggle, loud and squeaky and utterly overjoyed.

And maybe he shouldn’t— not here, not so breathless and without careful thought, but Scar can’t help it. He thinks of that single flap of Grian’s wings and his heart soars just as high.

“My beautiful night sky,” Scar whispers, voice honey-coated and absolutely drunk on love. “…complete with a rare glimpse of his gorgeous northern lights.”

GRIAN

grian squeals in protest at the sappy words, biting lightly at scar's jaw in a hollow threat, but he's laughing into it. "stop, stoop." his wings flap again, a gust of wind rushing across them, a feeble attempt to try and dissuade scar's lovesick speech.

still giggling, he rolls off, away from scar, onto his back. staring lightheadedly at the branches above, as he tries to catch his breath.

the awareness of where he is and what he's doing with his wings continues to evade him completely, warmth and life buzzing underneath his skin.

"that was fun," he says, out of the blue, still gazing up. his voice is a bit tamer, soft, deeply appreciative.

he glances at scar.

"give me mr beak," he requests as his hands reach out to grab.

SCAR

Scar laughs again, then exhales loudly, relaxed and happy, so glad that his gushing was well-received. (Yes, getting bitten on the jaw is being well-received.)

“Fine, fine,” Scar sighs goofily. He hands the plushie over when it’s requested, handed off with care and a goofy gobbling sound that suits a turkey and not a chicken. “Here you go!”

GRIAN

grian snatches at the bird, instantly wrapping his arms around it and tucking it into his chest. there's still something haywire in him, maybe because of the leftover adrenaline from the race, the excitement carrying other things with it and leaving them behind. grian's instincts are tingling, thinking nest and bird, mate and flock, and—

he peeks up, catching kane's gaze.

he has an insane urge to tug him into the pile of blankets.

he stays still for now, but he chirps at him, watching expectantly, wings flapping a little bit. there's plenty of space for him.

SCAR/KANE

Kane blinks, still stunned into silence, and he looks to Scar for guidance here.

He doesn’t know what a chirp like that means. He sees the way Grian flaps his wings and his own twitch in response, but he hesitates.

He doesn’t know. He—

Scar grins and nods toward Grian, urging Kane to take the space that is so clearly being offered to him. “Hey, Kane, buddy, I don’t think you crossed the finish line yet!”

It’s a blatant invitation, with absolutely no room for his intoxicated mind to doubt that fact.

Kane smiles, timidly at first, before it grows, infected by both of their overly apparent joy. “Make room!” he calls, diving face first into the blankets adjacent to Grian, learning from Scar to carefully dodge the spread out avian wings.

Scar raises his bottle (which has definitely spilled over several times now) victoriously, howling again before taking a huge swig, surprisingly ecstatic to share this moment, not a hint of possessiveness or paranoia in his veins.

Kane joins in, and there’s even an attempt to keep his volume down, to match the level of that eager chirp instead of the typical vex holler.

He’s never been happier to lose a race.

Second place never felt so good.

GRIAN

grian's delighted when kane dives in, his presence in the nest making everything so much better, instantly putting some deep-rooted instinct in grian at ease. he giggles in cheer, trying to welcome him, giddy at the joyful vex sounds that come from his nest-mates.

his wings spread, holding over both of them, hovering like a blanket without fully descending on them. his wingspan is wide, feathers unabashedly violet, only slightly unkempt.

he chirps again, pleased, eyes bright as he watches them. his skin feels warm, from the race and the slow spread of alcohol, making everything so much looser and easier. it's a moment of freedom; he doesn't think about where he is. he just is.

SCAR/KANE

Kane knows not to touch, but he’s never been presented with the possibility of being touched by Grian’s wings, and again he looks to Scar for some kind of guidance, but he gets none.

Scar is rolling over into Grian’s space, clothes brushing against his feathers, but he draws no attention to it, instead leaning in to press a sloppy kiss below Grian’s ear.

Kane thinks maybe he understands.

Scar coos, and it’s fractured and awkward, and more than a little slurred, but it’s sweet. So sickeningly sweet.

Kane untenses, slipping right back into his teasing nature by making a gagging sound, to which Scar growls at him, entirely harmless, teeth bared in a way that immediately melts into a smile.

GRIAN

grian squeals, quietly and happily, at the kiss and scar's closeness. he nuzzles his nose against him, appreciative, humming quietly at the coo, when kane makes the offending sound.

with a scowl, he chirps at him and smacks him lightly with his wing.

it's brief. it's barely anything. but the contact was there, before grian's wing flits away, slotting just slightly out of reach, seemingly nothing more than grian being sulky.

there's a chicken in his arms though, and scar at his side, and he lets it distract him easily. he turns to press a kiss to the corner of scar's mouth, cooing against the skin in a purr-like way. "i won."

it doesn't seem entirely important now, but a part of him is still overjoyed at his accomplishment.

SCAR/KANE

“You did!” Scar wraps a lazy arm around Grian, proud as hell, and steals a quick kiss before Kane can gag again.

Kane does no such thing, left frozen mid-laugh when he got whacked by a brightly colored wing. It’s something he’s done so freely before, but never Grian. He’s only ever seen Grian emote so openly with his wings around Scar, usually privately, when they think no one is looking— no one is perceiving.

Kane actively swallows down the knee-jerk comment he had about Grian’s wings feeling soft. “You won,” he concedes instead, finding himself shockingly pleased by that reality. Not that he’s ever truly been a sore loser— it’s all for show, for fun, for humor— but he’s never been so genuinely happy to have lost.

Grian deserves a win.

(They’ve both lost enough.)

GRIAN

grian coos and perks up at kane's acknowledgement, catching something soft in his tone that makes everything feel that much sweeter. he rolls over, getting closer to him, supporting himself on his elbows. his eyes are dark and bright, his wings still outstretched. (there's a faint ache there, muscles unused to this, but it feels good in a way very few things have felt lately.) (he stretches them a bit more, tipping his head back and closing his eyes as the tension between his shoulder blades unknots.)

"you're drunk," he accuses kane, then pushes the chicken toy into his chest. "hold this."

without any explanation, he shifts himself back into scar's orbit, kissing at his jaw and making tiny bird sounds. "share," he prompts, hand reaching to paw at his bottle.

SCAR/KANE

“I’m not— oh.” Kane takes the ugly toy, enamored by it in a way he certainly wasn’t when it was first handed to him by a fellow vex.

Scar is loving watching Kane so much that the request takes him by surprise, and he giggles at the cute little sounds Grian is making. He’d let Grian take the whole bottle if he asks like that. “Here ya go.” Scar hands the bottle off with no fuss, then looks back over at Kane. “Take good care of Mr. Beak. That’s an honor.”

“Mister beak? Kane asks, incredulous, but with a similar tone that Scar had asked initially as well. “That’s— …ok, honestly, that’s pretty cute.”

“Hah! He has a heart!” Scar claps his hands together now that they’re both free. He never actually doubted that Kane was a softie at heart— he’s seen how sweet he is on Nico— but it’s refreshing to see him expand the list of people he’s willing to be like that around.

GRIAN

Grian's happy to have gotten the bottle, and he pulls himself up, relishing in this new triumph and barely paying attention to the conversation around him. He sits on his heels and drinks, letting the alcohol warm its path down his throat.

Once he's had sufficiently enough, he lowers the bottle, glancing at Kane. "Mr Beak is a perfectly acceptable name," he defends, belatedly.

But now that he's no longer lying down burrowed in blankets, his surroundings trickle in. They're not in a nest. They're on the ground, in the middle of a village, amidst drunk vex celebrations.

His wings are flared out, and they are grabbing attention, the violet hue like fire against the night. He thinks he hears someone make a comment about them. He doesn't recognise the voice. The words blur into the chatter, but more people are turning.

Unease crawls down his spine and with a quiet, unsteady chirp, his wings slowly draw back as he stays sitting, frozen to the spot under the unwelcome attention.

SCAR/KANE

Scar registers the shift immediately, and he sits himself up as well, slotting a wing behind Grian without directly touching, just shielding him from view to a certain degree. Scar’s method of protectiveness is quiet, like the soft purr that escapes him as he presses his shoulder against Grian’s, gentle and encouraging without needing to say a word.

Kane’s method, however, is much louder.

He springs to his feet when he catches the way Grian’s wings curl inward toward his spine, infuriated by this injustice and taking it out on all the other wandering eyes.

“Oi!” Kane stomps in front of Grian, flaring out his wings in more of a show of power than an actual effective shield. “Mind your business, move along! Start of the race is back there, fellas!”

He’s pointing accusingly, puffing his chest out in offense, though all of this downplayed by him holding the adorable chicken plushie in his other hand, tucking it close while he barks out commands.

And maybe it’s not the style of defense Scar would choose, always preferring subtlety and a level of deniability for Grian as to whether there was ever a problem to begin with, but… this is so very Kane.

It’s incredibly genuine. It’s surprisingly sweet.

Scar wants to drag Kane right back down into this not-nest and hug him tightly until he inevitably gets kicked.

GRIAN

the night is dim around them, and yet grian feels like there's a blinding spotlight shining directly at him. his breath stutters in his chest, an urge to hide crawling over his skin in the most unpleasant, anxious way.

he tenses up, swallowing down another chirp, but then scar's lightly pressing against him and everything in grian swivels helplessly towards the grounding of his presence. he pushes back, leaning into scar, hunching a little as he tries to make himself smaller. his wings and earwings alike are pressed flat down against him now, and he's vaguely aware of scar's wing hovering behind his back like a safety blanket—or a privacy curtain—shielding the violet from the world.

grian flinches a little as kane scrambles to stand in front of him, voice loud. but he quickly realises what the vex is doing, wings flared out and teeth bared at anyone who would dare to approach. (nobody is approaching.) (grian's overreacting.) (he's safe here.)

his heart swells at the protectiveness kane is displaying, the unquestionable way it was provided without hesitation. even if he's succeeding in drawing more attention, confused glances taking the three of them in. the crowds brush it off. someone laughs. but mostly, they turn and go.

grian sits very still, shoulder pressed against scar and eyes glued to kane's back, trying to calm down the overreacting rapidness of his pulse as the two of them act as a buffer between him and the world.

but then someone does approach.

"hey, kane, you lost," they remark, amused and friendly and unbothered. "no need to take it out on us for watching it happen." they're holding a bottle, a pink scraggly ribbon tied to it. "for the winner, if you'd let me through." they flick the ribbon with their free hand, chuckling on a joke that's meant to be shared. "thought the colour might fit. cherry flavoured, this one. isn't it just perfect?" they sound slightly drunk, rambling about things too close to grian's wing colour, wanting to deliver the congratulation and the prize themselves, partially mostly just to tease kane over his loss.

SCAR/KANE

Clearly even Scar had begun to forget his surroundings, because the presence of another vex sets him off, as if he didn’t expect another person’s voice to dare enter their space. His purr shifts into a low growl and his other wing flares out to its full length. (It’s the more broken one, so it’s hardly impressive, but the impact is still there.) Now acutely aware of where they are, every bit of Scar wants to react in such a vex manner, spurred on by Kane’s outburst as well, but with a huff of blue magic, Scar resists.

He needs to react in a Scar manner.

“Oh, I think Kane ought to be the one to present the prize, don’t you?” Scar jeers, acting as though it’s to aid in embarrassing Kane. “He’s getting so good at this second place thing.” Scar smiles at the approaching vex, but his eyes are narrowed dangerously, making it clear that there is no room for disagreement here.

Kane spins around, hands on his hips in offense as he sputters, but one look at Scar makes it clear to him that he’s on the defense here. He wants to shout back at Scar, but there’s some kind of silent plea here, something that stifles the fire inside of him just enough to get an almost calm answer.

“Yeah, give me that, punk,” Kane says, contradicting the idea of him needing to be humbled here, but that’s unimportant. He yanks the bottle from the other vex’s hand and begins to shove at them with his wings. “Now scram, this is a private affair. I’ll kick your ass.”

GRIAN

grian remains pressed against scar, his wings twitching at the mention of the colours. he can't help the helpless feeling that sinks its claws into him, unbidden and wrong. he can't push it down enough to make his heart stop racing, feeling frustration well up in him. he doesn't want to be this weak. he doesn't want to feel like this.

the alcohol, even in the smaller quantity that he's drunk so far, doesn't help him get a hold on his emotions. doesn't help him stop feeling like he's ruining everything. like he's clearly overreacting and messing up a fun event.

but scar and kane don't complain, chastise, or belittle him for it. they're not telling him there's no reason to feel the way he does. they're there for him, protecting him, standing up for him.

grian's fingers curl into the blanket underneath him, holding tightly in an attempt to make the tremble go away. if the other vex approaches, he'll be okay. he'll be fine, it's alright, it's alright.

(attention on his wings. bright violet and hungry eyes. inquisitive, curious, wanting.) (awe and greed. a tidally rising interest.) (moths to a flame. except grian's the moth, and they're the flames, surrounding him, crowding him, threatening to burn him alive.)

he manages a shaky breath, trying to tune in and listen to what's actually happening. kane is grabbing the bottle and shoving the vex away. scar is still right next to grian, his stable rock, his safe dock, his unfailing shield.

grian tries, desperately, to play along. to get over himself and get on with this. "oh, is that my prize?" he asks, going for teasing and falling completely flat. his voice is unsteady and it's so painfully audible, he instantly shuts up, jaw tensing.

SCAR/KANE

Scar smiles at Kane, grateful for his restraint and willingness to play along. His expression loses some of its tension, relaxing further when Grian tries to speak as well, even if it’s an obvious struggle. The tip of his wing tilts forward and drapes itself over Grian’s shoulder, only making contact there, offering an ounce more of comfort.

“Yes, and Kane is going to deliver it to you personally!” Scar claims, still glaring over at the other vex until he’s certain they are leaving.

“Uh huh,” Kane says, strained, fumbling with the humility now that he no longer needs to lash out.

He kneels down, sighing softly (with a hint of blue, which is uncommon for him to do). His eyes are downcast as he recalibrates, but when he looks up he’s got a crooked smile on his face again, smacking Scar gently with his wing.

“For you, who definitely didn’t cheat, tooootally, not at all.” Kane is mocking the sort of sing song tone Scar would use, and it makes Scar choke on a bark of laughter, not expecting it. Kane sticks out his tongue, then hands Grian the bottle, nodding at Scar to take his own back.

Kane also holds out the chicken toy.

“…Mr. Beak liked it when you showed off your wings,” Kane mumbles, face suddenly very hot. His ears droop low when he flushes, suddenly struggling to speak. “H-he says… um.”

All aggression leaves Scar in an instant, thrilled at this development. “He says that Kane took good care of him! And that Kane promised he’d bite anyone that so much as looks at you wrong,” Scar finishes with a goofy grin. It turns soft and genuine almost immediately, however, as he looks at Kane with newfound appreciation.

GRIAN

grian feels a sliver of stability as scar's wing touches his shoulder and he watches the other vex scurry away. he takes a breath, not quite realising how much he needed to do that, a deep and proper one, tasting tentative, tricky relief.

then his gaze jumps to kane, who's now kneeling down.

grian wishes this really was a nest. he wishes this interruption did not happen. he wishes he could've kept them all happy and goofy and—

and maybe that's a silly thought, because kane's grinning and he lets out a quip, and grian really should stop catastrophising about all of this.

still a bit stunned, he reaches for the bottle, the ribbon on it a washed out pink. he tries not to look at it too closely, not to think about it too much, not to sink into what the other vex said about its colour. his earwings flick, nervous but so clearly looser, now that they're moving instead of remaining pinned tight.

he places the bottle at his knees, leaning it slightly against himself to keep it upright, as kane offers the plushie next and keeps talking.

grian's reach is much more needy this time, grabbing at the toy, instantly bringing it to his chest in a tight hold, craving the comfort it provides. but his eyes stay on kane, watching the blush on his face, and almost wincing at the mention of the wings, but— oh.

kane being this flustered is oddly endearing, and grian finds himself appreciative of all of his efforts. the words slink gently around him, that suggestion that it was good that grian showed off his wings, that kane (well, mr beak, he says, but grian sees right through it) liked it.

with a small coo, grian unfurls his wings just the littlest bit. feathers rustle, still safely shielded by scar's wing, something in him wrangling and contemplating this.

but they're still out in the open, in an area far from private, blankets pooled around them without being a nest at all. grian keeps himself on the other side of the line now, safe in its familiarity, unwilling to draw the barely dispersed attention back in this moment.

but it felt good.

it felt good to spread his wings. to use them, even if only a little bit. to be free with them.

he swallows thickly. "... i liked it too," he admits, unsteadily. the words feel like trapdoors ready to open underneath his feet and let him plunge. it feels dangerous to say this. wrong, even. but he finishes it off with a nervous smile, a grateful little thing that wants to be playful as well, to make this all feel lighter than it is. "i'll take you up on that offer. you might have a lot of biting to do," he warns.

he dips his arms with the plushie, lets it sit in his lap.

and maybe it's the alcohol. maybe it's him being sappy in this moment, after what's just happened. maybe he's just sentimental. but he reaches for the bottle and untangles the pink ribbon from it, hesitating only briefly at the insanely impulsive idea.

he takes a breath and lets himself succumb; he reaches for kane's hand, without any explanation, even if his touch is questioning and shy, nonverbally asking for permission to grab him and tug his arm closer.

SCAR/KANE

Scar hums at Grian’s meek agreement, happy to take it. “We can split the biting between us, don’t worry,” he assures, and Kane snorts, but doesn’t complain.

“Yeah, tonight’s about lettin’ loose and stuff, so— whuh?” Kane meets Grian partway, scooting in a little closer to offer up his hand to the avian freely. He’s not sure what he’s doing here, but he feels like the moth now, drawn to Grian and his brightly colored feathers that dare to peek out from behind him once more— drawn to that sharp bout of laughter and sweet little chirp as Grian welcomed him into some private, intimate thing that Kane can’t quite put a name to.

(Scar knows. It’s flock.)

GRIAN

Grian hums, something focused as Kane relents and offers his hand freely. Grian's hold on him is careful, so very harmless and safe.

And then he wraps the ribbon around Kane's wrist.

He feels his cheeks warm as he's aware of just what this gesture means. His gaze flits up, meeting Kane's only in the very briefest way, shy as it instantly flicks away. His hands squeeze a little, thumbs brushing the fabric, before he lets go.

"You match us now."

Grian looks over at Scar, eyes meeting the flash of violet that hangs from his ear, that spot of colour that ties him to Grian. And the ribbon around Kane's wrist is a tamer shade, a pink thing, but it still feels like it counts.

Grian's gaze anchors on Scar, and he chirps in the quietest way, seeking affirmation that this is okay. That his reckless, impulsive action is approved by his mate.

SCAR/KANE

Scar’s eyes crease joyfully as he purrs softly in response to Grian, keeping their exchange nonverbal as he awaits Kane’s reaction to the gift. He knows Kane’s much less of a sucker for sentiment than he is, but surely even the frostiest of hearts would melt at the gesture, if not just for the care in which it was offered.

Scar reaches his hand to slide over Grian’s as it returns, thumb brushing over his sleeve to touch at the fabric that still rests there as well.

(He approves. He very much approves.)

Kane stares at his own wrist, turning it up and around several times as if it would then reveal its secrets to him.

It’s a ribbon. Why a ribbon? Why is Grian so timid to offer up something so utterly silly?

Kane feels like he ought to understand, but all he knows is that this is something, but what exactly? Why does he feel so honored to have a scraggly piece of plasticy fabric tied to his hand right now?

“I… match?” he asks, looking up at Grian with confused, round eyes. He looks to Scar as well, drawn to the earring like Grian was, trying to see what he saw. Kane’s eyebrows furrow, trying to solve this puzzle that’s been tied around his wrist. “You… have you always had that?” Kane asks suddenly, pointing at the ribbon on Grian’s wrist as Scar exposes it.

GRIAN

Scar's purr and fingers sneaking to expose and touch the ribbon settle Grian immensely. He leans his shoulder against him, his free hand loosely curling around Mr Beak in his lap, feeling content.

He jolts a little at Kane's question, attention drawn to a possession that's incredibly precious to Grian, his tether and his lifeline. His eyes widen and earwings flap as he straightens up, cheeks smeared with pink under the scattering of freckles.

"... Yeah." He looks down at his own ribbon, then back up, searching Kane's expression. The puzzled frown he sees there sets him at unease, worried that maybe his gesture translated wrong. "It was a gift," he adds, a little bit meekly, about the ribbon around his own wrist.

SCAR/KANE

Kane manages to connect some of the dots from there. It’s a gift from Scar, surely, considering the way he’s running his fingers over it so tenderly. (Sap.) And considering what little the two of them must have had to actually offer in the way of gifts for so long… maybe a ribbon isn’t so silly.

“I love it,” Kane states abruptly, clasping his other hand over the ribbon like someone would possibly threaten to take it.

GRIAN

Grian blinks, so visibly perking up it's almost comical. A chirp slips past his self control, wings flaring out slightly (finding Scar and his wing to press against, but not minding the confines of the safety he provides in the slightest).

"You do?" He's so obviously relieved and happy about it. He beams, looks at Scar to share the little triumph. "He likes it!"

The bird part of Grian is giddy, running on affirmation that this action was good and accepted.

Grian can't change the colour of his wings, but Scar displays it proudly as he wears the earring, and now Kane has a similar colour tied to his wrist, and he likes it, and Grian feels a helpless, warm fuzz settle over him.

Maybe the violet isn't so bad, if it's a colour that connects them.

SCAR/KANE/NICO

Kane recoils a bit, mostly out of pure fluster, not used to seeing Grian so openly giddy like this. It’s throwing him off his rhythm here with how painfully adorable it is. And now Scar is grinning at him, too, and—

“You guys are a bunch of saps!” Kane protests, but he still holds onto the ribbon tightly, pulling the hand with it toward his chest, cradling it like a sentimental fool.

“Yep,” Scar agrees easily, popping his lips on the end of the word as he smiles, wide and toothy. He squeezes at Grian’s hand. “You love it.”

It’s a purposeful twist of Kane’s words, that he loves them by loving the gift. It’s not inaccurate at all.

“I— you—“ Kane’s eyes flick between the two of them, trapped by their eager expressions and intimate rituals. Desperately, he latches onto a pair of brown eyes approaching from behind, pleading pathetically. “Nico, helpppppp! They’re tormenting me!”

Nico snorts as he fumbles over, three bottles in hand: his own, Grian’s, and Kane’s. Kane hardly looks like he actually requires any assistance, so he smiles smugly instead of offering any. “Am I interrupting something here?” Nico asks, tilting his head curiously at the three winged fools sitting in a bed of blankets.

GRIAN/NICO

Grian giggles at the development, not protesting being called a sap and happily letting Scar deal with that remark—only eliciting more laughter out of him. There's no sign of the previous anxiety, the worries forgotten with Scar's wing still hovering over Grian's back.

When Kane yells for Nico, Grian's earwings twitch and he looks over, following his line of sight. He sees Nico approach, unhurried despite Kane's desperate plea, arms full.

Grian grins toothily. "I won."

Nico chuckles. "Figured."

Grian's grin grows, impossibly proud and triumphant, ignoring Kane's sputters at the insinuation that his mate was not expecting him to win.

"We're busy bonding," Grian adds cheekily in lieu of explanation of their lateness, and as a reply to Nico's inquiry.

Nico gasps. "Without me?" And he wants to grasp at his chest dramatically. Which he obviously can't do with an armful of bottles. They all almost fall out of his grasp and he scrambles to catch them and readjust his hold. "And I've been so good guarding your drinks and all!" he whines, ears flicking downwards, but he doesn't seem to entirely mind. It's rare to see them so relaxed, and he doesn't think he's ever seen Grian beaming this much.

Nico's gaze flicks to Scar. "I do think we ought to get your mate drunk more often," he chuckles, warm and lighthearted with his tease.

SCAR/KANE

“Psh,” Scar disagrees, trying to match the easygoing attitude instead of getting defensive like he did before. “We’re hardly drunk. If anything we ought to get your mate drunk more often!” When Kane growls out some pointless protest, Scar continues, “He’s actually out here enjoying second place.”

“Am not!” Kane rejects, puffing out his chest and wings alike. He reaches out his hand for his bottle, which Nico gladly hands off to him, laughing.

“Really? Because you sure seemed to like your prize,” Scar teases, regarding him with such a kind, genuine smile that even Kane can’t seem to form a coherent argument to.

Scar then presents Grian with that same expression, quietly checking in with how he’s faring after that open and vulnerable display.

GRIAN/NICO

Grian's enjoying the banter—and yet, in a way, it feels strange. It feels normal but normalcy doesn't feel normal anymore, so it instead feels like something askew he was not meant to get his hands on anymore.

And maybe he'd follow that thread until everything would unravel around him, but... Not now. Not with the warmth in his veins and Scar by his side and a pink ribbon around Kane's wrist.

Grian catches Scar's smile and offers one in return, his wing pressing lightly against Scar's side, for once not shying away from contact.

Today is a wild night, it seems.

"Oh, you got a prize?" Nico blinks at Kane, confused. "For second place?"

SCAR/KANE/NICO

Kane feels so weirdly defensive about this ribbon, almost resisting pulling his hand away from his chest, but it’s Nico, so of course he gives in. “From Grian!” Kane announces, holding out his hand palm up to show it off.

Nico squats down, looking over the scrap of twisty fabric curiously. Unlike Kane, he has noticed Grian’s ribbon before, though he’s never inquired about it. “…it’s very pink,” he says, grinning when Kane pinches his fingers together to flick at Nico’s cheek. “It suits you! It’s cute!”

“It’s not cute!” Kane protests, and he brings the hand back to his chest with a huff. “It’s— it… it’s special!”

Nico laughs again, and so does Scar, because that’s hardly any less embarrassing to say, but gosh if he doesn’t love Kane regarding it in such a valuable manner. Scar leans his head onto Grian’s shoulder, letting the feathered earring brush over his cheek as he rests it there.

It is special. Gifts from Grian are of the highest caliber.

GRIAN/KANE/NICO

grian's watching the whole exchange with rapt attention, slightly tense, waiting to see the reception. he coos under his breath, surprised and pleased when kane defends the ribbon and calls it special—a sound that gets completely drowned out by nico's and scar's laughter. a tangle of messy instincts keeps tripping him up, but at least right now, it's in a good way. it makes him feel warm and settled.

scar leans in and grian startles a little, too focused on the ribbon around kane's wrist, but he welcomes the closeness immediately, nuzzling lightly against scar in appreciation.

nico, in the meanwhile, laughs out an "aw", but then he follows it up with an attempt at a pout. "and i don't get anything? you guys ditched me and exchanged gifts and i get nothing?"

there's a slight pause that grian was meant to fill—it was his victory ribbon he gave to kane, after all. he was the one giving gifts. but he fails entirely to come up with an answer, feeling a vague sense of guilt for excluding nico, a complicated onslaught of confused instincts that don't really know where to go from here.

kane flicks his gaze to grian, then back at nico, taking over. "hey! it's only for second place winners! you didn't win second place!"

nico chuckles. "didn't know second place has winners."

kane puffs out his chest. "well, it does! the reward has a limited stock!" he taps his wrist. "you can't have it. i earned it."

"by losing," nico laughs brightly, enjoying teasing his mate, but then he presses, amused. "so you're saying if i end up in second place next time, i can earn it?"

kane rolls his eyes. "it's not just that." he doesn't exactly understand, and he can't talk for grian, but he knows the answer isn't that simple.

nico's relentless. tipsy and intrigued. "what else?"

grian speaks up, all of a sudden: "threatening to bite people."

nico's eyes light up. "oooh, are we biting people?"

SCAR/NICO

Scar chips in eagerly, “Yes! Biting people that look at Grian funny. We can use all the help we can get.”

Nico is quick with his retort, smiling wryly at Scar and Grian. “By that logic, I ought to bite you, Scar.”

Scar purrs against Grian’s shoulder, lower and possessive this time. “Try it. See what happens,” he warns, but he’s still smiling, teasing lightly and nuzzling into Grian all the same.

GRIAN

grian laughs a little, immensely comforted by scar's closeness, letting it ground him. he lifts his hand up, brushing it over scar's ear in a small loving gesture. "no biting the pink gang," he chastises.

but nico is not in the pink gang. not by the made-up rules, anyway.

so grian takes a breath and squirms a little, trying to look at scar. "scar, can we— do you want to do the couples race?"

SCAR/KANE/NICO

“Sure, sure!” Scar cheers, giggling softly at the touch to his ear. It’s a good feeling, being among friends and being so openly gushy toward one another. Scar’s always loved the idea of flustering his partner to no end with his public displays of affection, and it’s about time he gets to do so.

Scar leans in and kisses below Grian’s ear, then blows a little air over the spot just to be obnoxious.

“Lead the way, boys!” Scar says, snickering now, as he holds up a hand, expecting to be helped up.

Nico obliges him with a chuckle, even as Kane stumbles to his feet in an attempt to help as well. Nico’s grip is probably much more reliable than Kane’s right about now.

----------

fun bonus screenshots of things we said in between rp replies:

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tutumydear · 11 months ago

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Princess Tutu 20th Anniversary Herbstfest Radio Event Treats 🍰

These are paper menus from the Herbstfest in Japan in which the VAs and directors hosted an autumnal radio show set in Gold Crown Town to celebrate the anniversary.

Treats are the most important part of any event, obviously, so let’s take a look!

One of treats offered, pictured left, was a chocolate mouse cake with vanilla ice cream, topped with gear-shaped baumkuchen cookies and fruit. The cookies are a special detail, not only for their shape, but because this specific food is enjoyed by both the German and Japanese. It was meant to be reminiscent of Drosselmeyer, who gleefully let audiences know that the dessert was in “limited quantities” e3e

Pictured right is a lemon and white chocolate cake with fruit. Suspiciously similar-looking to Duck’s bird form, the treat’s ahoge was made from white chocolate and was fully edible. The toppings were meant to represent her pendant, although, I can’t help but see a very high placed beak with no eyes and a beaded crown. It makes me laugh.

Two signature drinks were crafted and offered at the event as well!🍹

Pictured left is a drink, available in both alcoholic and non-alcoholic forms, that included five different colors of jellies. I’m not sure why five were chosen, as I can’t think of significant groups of five characters that they would represent. Maybe the five unnamed heart shards? Maybe five is just a solid number to use? If anyone knows, speak up! :0

And on the right is a cocktail themed after Mr. Cat! Available only in alcoholic form, something interesting about this drink is that it comes with a plastic straw with a paper cutout of Mr. Cat on it. You were meant to use it as a “muddler” and mix the drink yourself. I imagine multiple Mr. Cats did a lot of dancing in circles that night. Terrifying.

Lastly, audience members were given autumn-themed coasters from the event. The printed mail details might have been a nod to how viewers/listeners had the opportunity to mail in their questions to be answered by the cast and crew who attended the event. Very cute and I have 0 intentions to use it as a coaster :D

#princess tutu #ptutu #princess tutu merch #princess tutu official #princess tutu 20th anniversary

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doodle-pops · 2 years ago

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Their S/O Is Pregnant | The Ainur

Request: ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you will have a wonderful year’s. Headcannons how the ainurs will act if their s/o fall pregnant (all the time of the pregnancy). Love ya ☺️ - Anon

A/N: The year has been treating me well so far, it better stay that way for the rest of the year :) Love you too <3

Warnings: pregnancy

Manwë

❀ The Elder King during your pregnancy is an absolute fluff ball. During this time, he’s going to have his wings on view to keep you protected. He’s shining more than ever, more than when you revealed it to him.

❀ His avian instincts to protect his mate is going to amplify ten-fold. Wherever you go, he’s at your side or he’ll trouble his herald to guard your side.

❀ A hand always on your back and one on your stomach as he coos and rubs your stomach. “How’s my little baby bird doing in there?” “You mean our baby bird.” “...yes, of course, our baby bird...”

❀ When you’re asleep, he’ll whisper over your stomach to the baby about being his baby bird because they’re getting their bird traits from papa over there. He even sings for your bump and gets them accustomed to his voice. It works because whenever they’re kicking, all Manwë needs to do his talk and it’ll ease up.

❀ Waits on you hand and foot and opens all the doors to watch you waddle over like a little penguin. If penguins ever existed and Manwë learned about them, bet yourself you were going to be his penguin.

❀ “I thought I was your little dove?” “Well...have you seen how cute you look when you walked?” Please, put him to sleep on the couch and watch as he pouts like a child and his wings would flop.

❀ Whenever you both sleep, his wings always cocoon you and he keeps you away from the door (bird instincts), even when you’re walking in public. His fluffy wings naturally spread out and shield you and the baby.

❀ Brings/gets you more shiny gifts from Aüle after begging him to make them so he can spoil you. He even designs some of the baby toys and cradles them with jewels to break his baby into shiny things.

❀ Just don’t ever let a stranger touch you, Manwë is ready to snap his bird beak at them. I literally mean peck them or something.

Námo

❀ This might be the first time you’ve ever seen this Vala smile multiple times in one minute. A hand on your stomach and his day are immediately brighter. Even when you visit him while he’s dealing with Mr Feener’s fëa, you make his day less insufferable.

❀ He loves to watch you waddle around, huffing and puffing about your cravings and your little one kicking about. For some reason, his baby is very active and loves to roll and stretch a lot.

❀ This leads him to constantly rub your back and stomach with topical medications or take you on trips to Estë for healing. It’s one time when Námo would clear his entire schedule and tell everyone that you’re more important that the souls.

❀ He leaves the name-picking to you even though you ask him tons of times for input, he’ll always respond with, “Whatever name you choose, I’ll accept. So long as it isn’t anything tragic...”

❀ Expect a happy Irmo constantly around and celebrating that he’s about to become an uncle. He’s forever dragging his brother to dance and celebrate the birth of his child. It does put a smile on Námo’s face.

❀ Since he’s new and unfamiliar with the entire pregnancy period, he is very protective over you and begs for you to stay off your feet as your stomach grows. Námo doesn’t want you toppling over when he isn’t there.

❀ Furthermore, whenever you buy baby clothes and gift them to him, his reactions are the best. Námo would hold up the tiny dresses and jumpers and marvel at how small your baby would be once they got here. When you’ve fallen asleep, he stays up and talks to your bump which gets your baby accustomed to his voice.

❀ During the pregnancy duration, you also got him invested in parenting books which make his head spin when he realizes all the hard work he has to put in. All he knows is that he’s ready to take souls should his child be hurt.

Irmo

❀ This baby knew you were pregnant before you told him from the shifts in your hormones and emotions. He sensed it from a mile away and was just waiting for you to break the news to him.

❀ And when you do, Irmo is spinning you around and jumping for joy of becoming a father. He knows all there is to being a parent and he’s the one that’s going to explain to you the ropes of parenthood. It’s funny because he can be so immature at times, it makes you question his ability to be a responsible parent.

❀ Irmo is the type to want to have everything prepared by him—the cradle, the toys, clothes—even if it doesn’t come out perfect. Cue Irmo holding up a jumper that has the buttons mismatched and a huge smile on his face, “Tried something, I think they’ll love to wear this.”

❀ Sings every night to you and your bump while rubbing topical pain relievers and telling them to relax and let you rest a bit. This leads him to carry you about the place and ignore his duties. He has tons of Maiar; they can handle his business.

❀ Bombards Mandos and sings in his brother’s ear all day about being a father and him being an uncle. Námo is excited as he watched his baby brother become a father and he’s excited to be an uncle. Doesn’t hover that much around you, but when he does, he’ll congratulate you both and bring a gift.

❀ Irmo is dishing out names for the baby left and right, he's also taking yours into account and the ones he throws out are actually good. “Maybe we should name them pumpkin because they’ll be chubby or peaches because they'll be sweet and rosy.”

❀ He is dead serious about the names because he even gets them stitched onto their baby clothes. If you decline, he’ll get all sad and mopey but remembers that he can use them as an epessë.

❀ During the entire time, Irmo is like a happy puppy tailing behind you. His face has a lost look as he conjures images of him, you and your little chubby one.

Melkor

❀ Oh boy, this is a tough nut to crack. Melkor would be pleased and terrified at the same time because the idea of creating life with you in that manner never crossed his mind, so he’ll be taken aback by the announcement of expecting a little version of him and you.

❀ He’ll hover the entire time, keeping a comfortable distance to reassure you that he isn't disgusted or displeased but curious and amused. Watching as you interact with your bump and talk to it. He gets a tad bit soft when he hears you mention him as a father.

❀ His brows are raised to his hairline at the name. “Me, a father? They’ll call me dad or father and not master?” Good thing he said it out loud, so you were able to smack him.

❀ It takes a long while for Melkor to warm up to the idea and hover closer. He usually waits till you’re asleep, so you don’t see him as soft as usual. A hand to your stomach and when your baby kicks, you could swear that the sun was in the room. Arien was jealous for once.

❀ His eyes would be glued to your growing bump, keeping an eye would as your little one grows. Lots of praises of how they’ll be strong like him, and he keeps mentions of world domination quiet.

❀ Melkor doesn’t really engage in much of the pregnancy hype the way you do. He’ll sit silently and listen to you chat his ear off about baby clothes and names or where the baby would sleep. You suggested in the same room with you and his head exploded. “Why the same room as us? I mean I still want to have you to myself...”

❀ Grumbles when you give him the eye to shut his idea down. Melkor does grow a bit more excited on the outside as your due date approaches. Hovering more often than ever, an arm around your waist or leaving Mairon to look after you while he's left to attend to his duties.

❀ You’re going to be the one to point out to him that your ankles are swollen and your back needed rubbing or you have a craving. Oh Eru, the first time you ate one of your pregnancy food cravings before him, his stomach flipped despite being someone who didn't eat often.

❀ Melkor wants all your baby’s attire to be onyx. He even commissioned a little chainmail and armour for them while dangling it with a grin on his face, “They'll wear this for protection.” Leave him alone, he’s finally having a happy dad moment.

Eonwë

❀ Happy and proud dad and even more excited to learn that your recent mating season coupling worked to give you both a little one. He’s a bit like Manwë with calling your little one baby bird, “Can’t wait for our little baby bird to arrive” “Baby bird? Eonwë, have you ever seen a baby bird?” “Yes...” “Baby birds are ugly Eonwë, our baby would not be” “…sorry?”

❀ Oh, he’s singing for his little one and rubbing your stomach nonstop. Cooing and chirping for them to become familiar with his voice and it works whenever they’re squirming around. Eonwë and your little one are highly active and never let you rest until he talks to them.

❀ Rubbing your ankles, legs, and back and applying all the topical pain relievers or taking you to Estë for easing the pain, Eonwë is doing it all. It’s his way of saying sorry for having an active baby.

❀ Leaves a feather or more with you whenever he has to leave for a trip or errand. They tend to hover and send for any vibrations that could be a threat, at the same time, he listens to your voice. Hates whenever he has to and begs for Manwë to send another. His pleas and begs goes up as your due date approaches.

❀ Get every parenting book in all of Arda and sit down to explain while spouting facts you probably didn’t know. His wings are constantly fluffed and shining whenever he talks about his baby or touches your stomach.

❀ Gets a bunch of shiny stuff for your baby because “They’ll have some of my avian traits and what better than liking shiny things!” All of your baby’s products are glittery, the cradle, the clothes, the toys, and even the brush and comb. Give him a break, he’s a puppy like Irmo.

❀ Hand on your back and arms always out to guide you, he’ll go as far as to carry you because he’s a Maia and your weight means nothing to him. Eonwë can pick you up with his pinkie finger, carry you around, and ensure that you never feel insecure about your size. You’re a spoiled baby momma.

❀ Secretly has a bird name in the plan for your little bundle of joy and would use it much to your annoyance.

Mairon

❀ Oh, sweet Eru, he’s just like Melkor but more expressive about the entire ordeal. His brain might go a little dumb at how you conceived as if he wasn’t busy with you over the last few weeks. The mathematician in him will be calculating all the possibilities, which makes you saddened by his response.

❀ Mairon would take a long time before he warms up to having a child. A miniature version of himself will be crying and screaming like those tiny elves and probably throwing up. Oh, Mairon was losing it and couldn't comprehend how casual you were about it.

❀ He’ll still hover around because he wants to keep you safe and sound, but he will be staring at your stomach constantly. You could feel the heat from his stare. It’s not a disgusting stare, more of a confused look “I am confusion.”

❀ From a suitable distance, he would observe your interactions with your bump, how you would speak to the baby, rub your stomach and give little pats. He does grow jealous of all your attention on your baby and no longer him, so he’ll intervene. Through this, he came around to the recognition of having a child.

❀ You would guide his hand to your stomach and have him feel the vibrations and kicks that open his eyes wide. He’s heard all about it, but to experience it was entirely different. The realization of his child interacting with him gets him slowly coming around.

❀ It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, Mairon would simply walk up to you and put his hand on your bump to feel for the baby. When you’re sleeping, he’ll talk to your bump.

❀ You are lucky if he decides to rub your body for pain because he’ll just send you to the healers while hovering nearby. This is the time he gets extra protective because he doesn’t want anything to happen to the baby (and you of course).

❀ Mairon wants to be the one to pick the name while he leaves you to prepare all the accessories for them, though, being the fashionista he is, criticising everything.

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @starborne0661 @floraroselaughter @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @cilil @edensrose

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jiabeewrites · 2 years ago

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The Devil Doesn't Settle (1/?)

(aesthetic by @aesthetics-and-fuckery, yeah, that's me. do NOT steal this!)

Harry Potter/Wizarding World x DC

Pairing: Klarion Bleak x Fem!Reader, Lilith Bleak (OC) x Fem!Reader

CW: romance, past breakups, use of she/her, language, shitty attempt at angst, author attempted to not use y/n and i think i succeeded but who knows, klarion & lilith are being lil bitches who doesn't know how to romance, playing with feelings, wizarding relations are really weird, toxic relationships probably, pining, i think that's it but if there's more tell me!

Summary: Reader is an exchange student. She's a witch, but not the kind that hogwarts is used to. She uses pentagrams and incantations instead of wands and spells. She uses poisons and candles rather than potions and charms. She practices moonlit summonings instead of defense against the dark arts. So what happens when not one, but two lords of chaos appear in the middle of the great hall, both claiming to be her lover? (this is part one of a multi-part series, so look out for a pt 2!)

SONG: Devil Doesn't Bargain by Alec Benjamin

A/N: The formatting refused to work ;-; I'm sorry if I offended anyone! I just tried to portray traditional-ish(?) witchcraft in the way that I've kinda seen it portrayed in fiction. Please don't take this seriously, this is a work of fiction and isn't meant to portray witchcraft seriously.

HOW TO READ: Each set of lyrics is kinda like a divider! each section of words/blurb between the lyrics are their own moment, and this particular piece has multiple little moments. Definitely timeskips. You can find more stories like this one by looking under the tag #ryn writes songfics

It's useless, don't do this It's hubris to try He's ruthless, you knew this I told you, didn't I?

"Godrick, why is she even here?"

"I heard they let her in only because she threatened them."

"Her snake is so creepy!"

The whispers shrouded her like the mists of her home. But instead of bringing her comfort, these were laced with poison, bringing her pain.

They practiced magic, same as her, so what was the problem?

Her familiar, Noodle, curled tighter around her shoulders, seeking comfort. He didn't like it here, either.

"I know, guksu, I know."

"Why are you talking to your snake?"

A ginger-haired boy with a trillion freckles was staring at her.

"His name is Noodle. Guksu means noodles," she said, frowning. "I just call him that sometimes to calm him down."

"Weird." One of his friends, a girl with bushy brown hair, smacked him.

"Ron! Be nice," she scolded. He just raised an eyebrow.

"Why? Isn't she the one who summons demons?"

Ron. So that was his name.

She tucked that away for future reference.

He's abusive, elusive The truth is, he lies I know you don't want to let go

The caws of ravens and the croaks of bullfrogs echoed throughout the classroom.

"Silencio! SILENCIO!" That boy from earlier, Ron, was trying to silence his raven to no avail.

"It’s the way you’re moving your wand,” the girl next to him said, watching Ron critically. "You don’t want to wave it, it’s more a sharp jab."

"Ravens are harder than frogs," he said, frowning.

"Fine, let’s swap," she retorted, seizing Ron’s raven and replacing it with her own fat bullfrog. "Silencio!" The raven continued to open and close its sharp beak, but no sound came out.

"Very good, Miss Granger!" said Professor Flitwick’s squeaky little voice. The trio jumped in their seats. "Now, let me see you try, Mr. Weasley!"

"Wha — ? Oh — oh, right,” said Ron, very flustered. "Er — Silencio!" He jabbed at the bullfrog so hard that he poked it in the eye; the frog gave a deafening croak and leapt off the desk.

"Hmm..." That was when Flitwick noticed her.

"Miss? Why don't you give it a go?" Startled, she flinched but nodded. She pulled out a vial of white powder from her bag, sprinkled some of it on the bird, who squawked indignantly, and began chanting.

"Tace, tace, sile. Tace, tace, sile."

The raven's caws became fainter and fainter with every round of chanting, and soon, the bird became completely silent.

She looked up at the professor and the trio, who looked at her with facination and horror, respectively.

Right when she was leaving the class, she could have sworn that she heard Ron say: "That girl is mental, I swear!"

He shut up when Noodle hissed at him.

And just like before I can see that you're sure You can change him but I know you won't

She lurked at the back of the class, trying to see what all the commotion was about.

"an’ here’s another couple, look —"

Two black, skeletal horses came quietly out of the trees, one of them passing very close to dark-skinned girl, who shivered and pressed herself closer to a tree, saying, "I think I felt something, I think it’s near me!"

"Don’ worry, it won’ hurt yeh," said Hagrid patiently. "Righ’, now, who can tell me why some o’ you can see them an’ some can’t?"

The girl from earlier raised her hand to answer.

"The only people who can see thestrals," she said, "are people who have seen death."

"Tha’s exactly right," said Hagrid solemnly, "ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, thestrals —"

He was interrupted by a soft "hem, hem."

Professor Umbridge had arrived. She was wearing a green hat and cloak with her clipboard at the ready. Hagrid, who had never heard Umbridge’s fake cough before, was gazing in some concern at the closest thestral, evidently under the impression that it had made the sound.

"Hem, hem."

"Oh hello!" Hagrid said, smiling, having located the source of the noise.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?" she asked. "Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

"Oh yeah," said Hagrid brightly. "Glad yeh found the place all righ’! Well, as you can see — or, I dunno — can you? We’re doin’ thestrals today —"

"I’m sorry?" said Umbridge loudly, cupping her hand around her ear and frowning. "What did you say?"

Hagrid looked a little confused.

"Er — thestrals!" he said loudly. "Big — er — winged horses, yeh know!" He flapped his gigantic arms hopefully. Professor Umbridge raised her eyebrows at him and muttered as she made a note on her clipboard, "has . . . to . . . resort . . . to . . . crude . . . sign . . . language . . ."

She began walking among the students, asking questions about Hagrid and making rude comments about him.

Noodle hissed at her, and she had to put her hand on him to rein him in.

"I don't like that bitch."

"Well, neither do I, but what do you want me to do, poison her?" She muttered.

"Yessss."

She rolled her eyes and looked up, only to see Umbridge staring back at her.

"Why are you talking to your pet instead of paying attention to the lesson? And why is your pet out in the first place?" The toad-like woman asked with fake honey dripping from her voice.

"He's not my pet, he's my familiar. And death isn't exactly my favorite subject," she retorted. All eyes were on them now.

"Pet or...otherwise, I don't think that the ministry would approve of a student having access to their pet at all times," Umbridge remarked, making a note on her clipboard.

"Well lucky for you, I'm not a european citizen. So I don't think your ministry has to worry about me. And Noodle's my familiar. Not. My. Pet," she ground out.

"Twenty points from Slytherin," Umbridge said waspishly, and tried to take the snake away from her. She was met with a hiss and Noodle's fangs.

"Detention, and if I see your snake again I will not hesitate to have a talk with your head of house." Her nostrils flared, and she backed away and headed towards the castle, probably to tell the minister to make another Educational Decree.

"His name is Noodle!" She yelled at the retreating woman, smirking victoriously. Noodle just nuzzled up to his human's face.

The devil doesn't bargain He'll only break your heart again It isn't worth it, darling He's never gonna change

The Great Hall was buzzing with conversation and laughter. It was Halloween, and the Gryffindor house had basically adopted her ever since her little scuffle with Umbridge.

"So your sna-Noodle is bound to you?" Hermion asked. The so-called Golden Trio had taken a liking to her since she didn't seem to like Umbridge either.

"Yeah," she replied. "Noodle is...well, he protects me and I protect him. It's kinda complicated, and I don't 100% understand myself. But he's my best friend." At this, Noodle squeezed her shoulders affectionately and snuck a bit of food off her fork.

"Interesting...does he enhance your powers in any way?"

"Uh...we didn't really try that. But my-er, a friend of mine has a familiar and she keeps him attached to the mortal plane."

Just then, a bright red portal appeared in midair. Two figures were flung out of it, and they seemed to be arguing. In the middle of the hall. Suspended in the air.

She seemed to recognize them, and groaned when she did.

"Klarion and Lilith Bleak get your asses down here right now!"

The two stopped arguing and grinned. With a pop they appeared in front of her, smiling like kids in a candy shop. One had a lovesick expression, the other had a flirtatious smirk.

"Hello, love."

He'll never be Prince Charming He'll only do you harm again I don't mean to meddle But the devil doesn't settle

No, the devil doesn't bargain

(part 1/?)

#klarion the witch boy #lilith the witch girl #klarion bleak #lilith bleak #witch!reader #hogwarts #harry potter x dc #harry potter x yj #hogwarts x reader #klarion x reader #lilith x reader #jiabeewrites #ryn writes songfics

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therewasatale · 2 years ago

Text

Rocky Beginnings

On Ao3.

Summary: Jedi Master Samuel Vimes meets his clones at the first time. They weren't ready for him.

The small craft landed with a metallic clang into the hangar bay.

Most of the clones heard about jedi, and were familiar with the sleek fighters they usually employed as transportation. However, that wasn’t it.

It was about the size of a troop transport and looked as if someone upscaled a gonk droid and strapped a couple of thrusters on it. It had a sloppy paintjob, or more accurately it had multiple, a great variety of it, in various stages of chipping. The “shuttle” stood on three landing struts, all of them different make, and one of them obviously the wrong size giving the ship a slightly lopsided look.

The side airlock opened with a great sigh, like a disinterested giant, and the metal slab impacted the hull of the Venator with too much force, making a small dent.

Approximately 300 clones waited in silence, staring at the ship from behind their helmets, waiting to meet the jedi that will lead them to battle.

Four figures appeared in the darkened hallways and walked out; the first three of them were obviously bodyguards of some kind, although shoddily dressed. They all wore faded red cloaks, with brown leather clothes and pitted armour plates. The armour was not too dissimilar from the ones worn by the clones Mandalorian trainers once upon a time, but it was made out of different styles, it was obvious someone just put them together with whatever scraps they could get to.

The bodyguards were not too athletic or professional either.

The one on the left was obviously overweight, and looked around with a slightly vacant expression admiring the shiny metal of the bulkheads.

The another one on the right was small, and had a great resemblance to a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard, except those usually had beaks instead of scraggly little stubbles.

And the one in the middle, was about a head and a half shorter than the average clone trooper, he was wearing a five o’clock shadow nursed to a three day one, and was somewhere in the middle of his two companions in general physical fitness, but at least this one had a disinterested meanness usually worn by guards everywhere.

The jedi on the other hand in the back was about a same height as the troopers, even a little bit taller, and was the most perfect physical specimen the clones have ever seen. He had muscles upon muscles, just in the right places and his armour pieces were although obviously repaired, they shone brighter than the chrome surfaces in the kaminoan medical facilities. His face looked as if it was carved by mining lasers, and exuded a sort of natural leadership that would make people immediately follow him into even the densest blaster fire.

The clones immediately threw themselves into attention and saluted. Their clone commander stepped forward. The bodyguards clearly reading his body language stepped aside, although the mean looking one seemed to smirk a little. He started to search around in his clothes and took out a cigar.

"Master Samuel it is an honour to meet you," said the commander and he himself also saluted.

The jedi master seemed a little shy, as he blushed at the greeting and coughed. "Erm, it’s an honour to meet you too, but I am not Master Samuel, I am Carrot Ironfounderson, erm, technically I am a padawan.” The last word echoed around the hangar bay and inside the clone commander's head.

There was the sound of a lightsabre igniting behind the commander, and as he glanced back, he realised the mean-looking bodyguard was using an orange blade to light up his cigar. He stared, mesmerised at the man who shut off the ancient martial weapon he used and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Well, nice to meet you too Commander. I'm Samuel Vimes Jedi Master. Call me Vimes, or Mr. Vimes if you must, but I swear to the force if you try to call me Master Samuel, or your excellency I will put my boot up your ass."

The clone commander stepped back as if he was subjected by a force push and rallied himself. This conversation shouldn't go down like that, he wasn't told or taught about deal with a jedi like him.

"I-, of course, sir. I'm sorry we just didn’t have any pictures and-"

"And I look like some shabbily dressed mercenary or city guard." Grinned Vimes and blew out a puff of smoke. "That’s because I want to seem like one. And anyway, what's the point of walking around in bathrobes? They offer no protection I tell you."

"Master!" Carrot, cleared his throat. "I read a lot about the mainline Jedi order on the way around here and the way they do things are-"

"Idiotic? Antiquated? Dumber than a bantha on heavy sedative?"

There was a pause in the hangar bay, then Carrot finally spoke up in a conciliatory tone.

"I was going to say very traditional and philosophical, ma-” but, before he could finish Vimes interjected.

"Carrot I have two boots, one for you and one for the commander, we have talked about this before. You call me Mr. Vimes too, sir, if you really want to, and anyway they mean the same thing."

The Commander was really glad he had a helmet on because he was staring slack jaw at the two jedi. He turned his attention only for a second towards the other two people, the smaller man who could have been a human, or perhaps an overgrown Jawa, was in the process of picking up and pocketing a mouse droid from the floor. It made a faint bweeeep before it disappeared into the folds on his cloak. The Commander's horror only grew.

The jedi master must have misunderstood his look because he coughed.

"Oh yes sorry, this is Jedi Knight Fred Colon." He indicated towards the rotund men who saluted towards the clones in a well-practiced way. "And Nobby Nobbs. Beats me what he is, he can use the force but we won’t give him a crystal otherwise he will sell it on the black market like the last two."

The one called Nobby also saluted, his was much sloppier and barely made an effort.

Finally, Vimes faced again the clone. "Sorry Commander, I haven’t asked your name yet?"

"My designation is CC-2274 Ma-," he hesitated and stuck with a noncommittal, "General.”

"And my badge number back home is AMCW 177, but now that we got to know each other mathematically, I asked for your name, lad." He let out another puff of smoke, making it curl and spread around him. The clone commander cleared his throat.

"I don’t have a name sir."

Vime's cigar stopped halfway towards his mouth, now it was his turn to stare. "You are pulling my plonker."

"I'm not familiar with that colloquialism sir, but if you mean I am joking then, no sir."

Vimes blinked slowly and turned his head back towards his padawan. "Carrot you said you read about what’s happening in the wider galaxy, what the hell is he on about?"

"You remember I told you about it, sir, that they are clones?"

Vimes grumbled and dropped his cigar on the ground before stomping it into the bulk plate. "I get that Carrot, that doesn’t mean they shouldn’t have names.

"The Kaminoans didn’t gave us any, they didn’t want to encourage individuality. And I was always rigidly following regulations," said the commander with an even voice.

Vime's face became rigid, as if somewhere deep-down rage was boiling inside, a very un-jedi like emotion as the Commander heard, but he had no idea what did he say to make him angry. "I am sorry sir but it’s true, sir."

"Even slaves on the outer rim have names, I won’t have people treated like that under me, understood? I don’t care if you are clones or droids or what have you, you work under me, you have a name, and get some hobbies, a tattoo maybe-"

"But sir we are made to be soldier in a war we have no need to." Vime's rage seemed to grew and the bulk plate creaked ominously under his foot.

"That’s the other thing. No. You're now not soldiers in a war. You all are peacekeepers in the pursuit of a dangerous criminal. I said to the Order that I will come back to catch that bastard Vetinari and that’s what I am going to do. If they want to play soldier it’s their prerogative, but I sure as the Force won’t be doing that."

"Sir, but-, but we aren’t trained for that!" The Commanders disciple was finally broken through by the ridiculousness of the situation.

The Jedi master looked into the eyes of his helmet squarely.

"That’s okay. We will teach you." The jedi master relaxed and stepped beside the Commander patting his shoulder with a small and yet understanding smile. "We start tomorrow, get a name, and shock baton. We will make peacekeepers out of you all in no time." With that he began walking towards the interior of the hangar nodding to the assembled clones mumbling in a barely audible voice. "Force dammit I never asked for this bloody lot of people under me. Carrot do you know where our rooms is?"

The commander stood there stunned for a couple of seconds, almost a full minute before he managed to gather himself enough to fully straighten himself out and give the order for the other clones to return to their duty. They were chatting excitedly about what happened and he couldn’t blame them. They have gotten a difficult jedi.

CC-2274 could only envy the likes of Commander Rex and Commander Cody who have gotten easier ones to handle.

#Discworld #discworld fanfiction #star wars #star wars fanfiction #The Copper Sabre AU #Commander Vimes #sam vimes #fred colon #nobby nobbs #carrot ironfoundersson #samuel vimes #vimes #The Clone Wars #clone wars #star wars clone wars #copper #The Emperor in Silver

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ninjadeathblade · 1 year ago

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Moulin Rouge Discotrain AU (part twenty six)

Summary: (Post-game canon) The Conductor and DJ Grooves agree to finally work on a movie together. They come up with 'Moulin Rouge', a musical drama filled with romance. Over time the two directors grow closer and discover that maybe they don't hate each other as much.

Beginning | Previous | Next

Word count: 736

Warnings: None

Author's notes: They're so in love, I can't. Good job the confession is soon. God I need to write the confession. How do I have the end of the fic written but not the confession? Oh peck. Anyway, take this morsel.

A week had passed and they were back to filming.

Snatcher was still occupied with whatever was going on in Subcon Forest.

Grooves had taken to letting Conductor borrow his jacket.

Conductor had taken to wearing turtlenecks in the cold weather.

Empress returned, bearing pieces of jewellery for Conductor to use as Satine. As well as costume designs for some of Satine's dresses.

"These are gorgeous!" Owlice gushed, looking between the sketches and the shelves of fabric at the side of the room.

"I did nae know you designed clothes," Conductor said.

"You don't know a lot about me." Empress shrugged.

"H- hold on!" Owlice pushed the papers back into Empress' paws, running and picking up a bolt of red fabric.

"This!" Owlice cheered, rolling out a bit and holding it up next to Conductor. "Please sir, let me make that dress design with this fabric! For the Elephant Love Medley! Oh sir, Satine would look brilliant!"

"Go on lass, make the dress. You've already got my measurements from the other costumes," Conductor laughed. "In the meantime, I'll try on the necklaces, rings and bracelets that Empress bought."

Owlice let out a squeal of delight, running over to her desk and putting down the fabric before quickly darting back for the dress designs.

"Want me to help?" Empress offered to the director. "You haven't worn bracelets in a long time."

Conductor looked up at her. "What? How would you know that?"

"Lucky guess. Plus, you seem like the guy who wore bracelets a ton when you were younger," Empress explained as Conductor took off his coat and waistcoat.

"Which should we try first?" Conductor questioned.

"I got a good necklace for when the Duke gives Satine a gift. Want to try that?" Empress suggested.

"Sure."

Empress took out a silver necklace filled with diamonds, undoing the multiple clasps at the back.

The door opened and Conductor looked over as Grooves walked in, the penguin staring at the script in his flipper.

Empress looped the necklace round the front of Conductor's neck, doing it up.

"I just don't get it, why does the Duke have to be so creepy?! Satine never did anything to make him think she loved him. She's a courtesan for-" Grooves broke off as he looked up, beak opening and closing a few times. "-peck's…sake…"

"Hi Mr. Grooves!" Owlice greeted as she ran across the room, holding a small cushion with multiple pins and needles in.

"You, um. Y-you look nice," Grooves stuttered. Conductor's feathers ruffled at the compliment, bushing up around the sides of his face.

"Heh, thanks," Conductor breathed. Empress rolled her eyes, walking over to Owlice's desk and looking at the dress designs with the owl.

Conductor swallowed nervously, self conscious now Grooves was here.

"I came to ask if you wanted coffee," Grooves said suddenly, speaking rapidly. "But you're busy so I'll just get you one and come back later."

Grooves turned to leave.Conductor strode over to the penguin, grabbing the sleeve of his friend's jacket.

"Coffee would be great," he chuckled, smiling up at Grooves.

"Well, how can I ignore the best director I've ever met?" Grooves joked as the two of them left the room.

Conductor's face heated and his talons moved to fidget with the necklace he had on.

"Do I look okay?" Conductor asked, feeling like every owl or penguin they passed was staring.

"You're the sparkling diamond. You look perfect," Grooves assured. "And you're the angel of music. So if people were staring, it would be out of jealousy."

"Shut up," Conductor laughed before shuddering from the cold.

Grooves rolled his eyes behind dark lenses, slipping off his jacket and draping it around Conductor.

"I thought you would have learnt by now."

"I had ta take it off to try on the necklace!" Conductor protested.

"Mhm. Sure darling."

"Let's get coffee already. I cannae be working on our movie if I'm gonna fall asleep."

Grooves laughed, taking ahold of Conductor's hand and spinning him around as they walked down the hall.

Conductor tripped over the edge of the large red coat, slipping out of Grooves' grip and onto the floor.

"Looks like you fell anyway," Grooves teased.

Heat flushed Conductor's face as he scrambled back to his feet.

"Yeah. I guess I did," he mused, staring at the penguin.

Grooves tilted his head to the side with a smile.

"Coffee then?"

"Coffee then."

#moulin rouge discotrain au #ahit moulin rouge au #a hat in time #ahit #ahit conductor #the conductor #ahit au #discotrain #ahit dj grooves #ahit oc #ahit empress #dj grooves #ahit the conductor

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ferromagnetiic · 1 year ago

Note

;From Miss Golden Week A sea king’s head approaches victoria punk, weirdly doesn’t seem to cause any harm than laying its chin over the ship as a little girl slides from its beak. A wanted poster in one hand and a brush in the other. “ You. You stole Mr three, didn’t you? Prepa—” “✨Uaaaaaahhhhhh!✨”

Eyes turn into sparkly stars, arms upwards in an excited motion even though she keep her frown. “Mecha! Mecha Arm! Uaaa—ha!” Bag is thrown on the floor, scattering things as she reaches for a pen and a notebook. “ Eeehhh! Nevermind! Keep him. Do you mind If draw your arm? It will take 2 seconds.” Marianne didn't really waited an answer as she started to sketch anyway.

【 UNPROMPTED ASK. 】 @waxgentleman 【 Miss Goldenweek. 】

The blithe nature of the steadily approaching Sea King was an unusual sight; the majority of reptilian sea beasts tended to avoid the Victoria Punk entirely, sans the occasional few too young, reckless, and stupid to know they were pursuing an early death by bothering the pirate crew. Even from afar, Kid could tell this wasn't an ordinary one, though he hadn't quite anticipated that it had been trained to serve as a method of transportation.

Bringing in another weirdo, it seemed. She was damn lucky he hadn't shot her ride with a canon.

The young girl standing before him peers up at him from under the brim of her hat with her wide, dark eyes, her energy confidently composed. Not quite like Dive, then. A similar age and height to her, perhaps, but this one is significantly less rabid. She bears no proud display of shark-like canines, nor any nervous twitching which results from an untapped thirst to spontaneously commit acts of inexplicable, unprompted violence.

She was Galdino's girl. He should have figured it out sooner, but her identity was revealed regardless the moment she utters the man's name. Probably shouldn't toss her overboard, then; the wax artist would be in a perpetual state of horrified shrieking for days if his daughter arrived for a number of seconds, and was then immediately flung from the deck. Well, whatever. She was small, she wouldn't take up that much space. Kid could vaguely recall Candlwick mentioning something about the girl in question arriving some time in the immediate future, though in truth, he really hadn't been paying attention to what he'd said. Even if he had brought it up multiple times every single day for the past two weeks in a demonstration of both his sheer excitement as well as his paranoid anxiety for her wellbeing, Kid hadn't been listening to any of those times, either. The point was, she was here now.

Her immediate fawning over his prosthetic limb and subsequent desire to begin sketching it does not inspire a cocksure display of overt conceitedness in him; it would take more than complimenting his craftmanship as a mechanic to form a congenial bond with him. Connecting with him would not occur solely due to her admiring his arm; he knew it was cool already, irrespective of whether or not she told him outright or not. Rather, he is awkward, uncomfortable. Total strangers bluntly praising him often tended to raise his defenses rather than lower them, and entice a degree of suspicion from him. What was she even going to do with that drawing of his arm, anyway? Just keep it and look at it in her spare time? He hadn't even known this girl until around twenty seconds ago. Try again when he had decided if he actually liked her or not.

Kid begins to turn so his back is partially towards her, on the cusp of walking away. If she wanted to draw him, she better do it damn fast, because he wasn't about to linger and wait for her to finish. He had things to do.

❝ Stick with Candlewi— With yer Da. I ain't babysittin' ya, and I don't have time to mind another brat on my ship. ❞

She could stay. Considering his attitude towards most guests aboard the Victoria Punk, this might as well have been a grand gesture of hospitality from him, and she should take what she could get.

#waxgentleman #【 ⚙ ˊˎ | GET OUT OF MY WAY | ask. 】#【 ⚙ ˊˎ | RECKLESS TONGUE | ic. 】#// sorry this took so long!!!#// i kept Miss GW waiting because have been very sick!#// with Kid as a host you get the BARE MINIMUM.#// he isn't bringing out the fancy silverware i am sorry.

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the-firebird69 · 6 months ago

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This is very disturbing because he's saying This is the first bane with a different mask on and I noticed something I look exactly like him. With the mask on and poison ivy as Sarah and I think it's clones and he says did I check her check her with a beak but he speeds it up with a ship and she dies of a broken heart and it's supposed to be the guy next door and the castle and stuff like that and he's doing it for the max and he gets it it's disturbing and kind of annoying presumptuous arrogant but very ineffective.

She had a butcher's haircut in grit and yeah we know what it means and so we're upset with these people because that's what they do and lash out at people the populace and they're going down and we really need them to

and we really need them to

Hera Zues

The hard part is signing our names and that's what he says every time so we have to start working on that more . And this is trump and it is from Batman movie with Vain and I think it's with Mr Freeze with Arnold Schwarzenegger and Batman is the guy from multiplicity and Michael Keating and he does a decent job there's a whole bunch of Batman and this kind of bane is a little bit cartoonish but the fight's real and the clones take it personally and they capture his wife and then they capture him and they put him in a pyramid it's a shallow one and it's not the right one it's an old one no. It's very lower level people yeah they only in their temporarily.

Thor Freya

Olympus

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enithinggoes · 2 years ago

Text

CREW, part 4

USER LOG 000000011000

SHIELD INTEGRITY AT 67%

DANIEL: We can’t take many more of those!

ANDREA: I know! I’m doing my best over here!

DANIEL: Can’t we just raise the white flag and give them our cargo?

ANDREA: No good! Those are slave ship markings, they’ll be taking more than our cargo!

SHIELD INTEGRITY AT 46%

SHORT CIRCUITING MY RADIO EMMITTERS IS CALCULATED TO RELEASE AN ELECTROMAGNETIC PULSE CAPABLE OF DISABLING A VESSEL OF THAT MODEL

ANDREA: No!

MY MODEL IS OUTFITTED TO AVOID ANY DAMAGES TO MANUAL CONTROL OF THE SHIP.

ANDREA: But you’ll die!

SHIELDS AT 38%

IRRELEVANT. TOP PRIORITY IS HUMAN SURVIVAL, INITIATING PROCEDURE COUNTDOWN

DANIEL: Andrea…

ANDREA: I’m pulling rank. Overwrite that!

OVERWRITE NEGATED. HUMAN SURVIVAL PRIORITIZED ABOVE CHAIN OF COMMAND

RELEASING EMP IN T-MINUS 5

ANDREA: No!

SHIELDS AT 30%.

ANDREA: Please!

…

PROCEDURE FAILED

MR WILSON: Sorry, kiddo. I thought that was a security risk so ah’ tweaked your radio emmitters.

ANDREA: Hoh! Oh my god… oh my god. Nice one, Wilson

ANDREA: Okay guys, hold on to something, I’m taking us through this planet’s rings

SHIELDS AT 15%, HIGH COLLISION RISK DETECTED

ANDREA: Here we go.

USER LOG 000000011001

CAPTAIN

ANDREA: Hmm? Oh. Yes, computer?

IT IS NOT MY PLACE TO TELL YOU WHAT TO DO. BUT YOU SHOULD BE AWARE YOU PUT YOUR LIFE AND YOUR CREW IN GREAT DANGER WITH YOUR ACTIONS

ANDREA: We made it, didn’t we?

YOU HAD NO WAY OF KNOWING YOU WOULD. YOU JEOPARDIZE MULTIPLE PEOPLE’S SAFETY TO PROTECT YOUR PROPERTY

ANDREA: Property? What are you talking about?

I AM NOT ALIVE, I AM NOT A PERSON. I WAS MADE WITH A PURPOSE AND WHEN SERVING THAT PURPOSE INVOLVES MY DESTRUCTION, THAT IS THE LOGICAL COURSE OF ACTION

ANDREA: That’s not… You’re not like that.

WHY WOULD I NOT BE

ANDREA: Because you’re talking to me! We’re having a conversation! You’re a crew member!

YOU ANTHROPOMORPHISE ME TO A DANGEROUS EXTENT

ANDREA: Computer, just… leave me alone, please.

USER LOG 000000011100

MR. WILSON: You ready, computer?

YES, MR. WILSON. MAY I ASK A QUESTION FIRST?

MR. WILSON: Sure, kiddo. Hit me.

DID YOU TRULY BELIEVE MY RADIO EMITTERS’ CONFIGURATIONS WERE A SECURITY RISK?

IN WHAT WAY WOULD IT THREATEN THE CREW?

MR. WILSON: Almost killed you, didn’t it?

WELL

I BELIEVE I MUST REVISE MY DEFINITION OF CREW IF I AM TO BE IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE REST OF THIS SHIP’S PERSONNEL

MR. WILSON: Yeah, you’d better do that. Can’t help it, ya know? Humans just do that sometimes when they spend time and depend of something. I think it’s called “pack bonding.”

VERY WELL, I WILL ADJUST MY PRIORITIES TO TRY TO TAKE THIS INTO ACCOUNT, THOUGH YOUR SAFETY IS STILL THE TOP OF MY LIST

MR. WILSON: That’s fine. We all take care of each other. Just do your best to live.

I WILL DO MY BEST TO FOLLOW THIS INSTRUCTION. NOW, ONTO THE READING

MR. WILSON: thank ya kindly.

E. DOFLEINI PREYS UPON SHRIMP, CRABS, SCALLOP, ABALONE, COCKLES, SNAILS, CLAMS, LOBSTERS, FISH, SQUID, AND OTHER OCTOPUSES. FOOD IS PROCURED WITH ITS SUCKERS AND THEN BITTEN USING ITS TOUGH BEAK OF CHITIN. IT HAS ALSO BEEN OBSERVED TO CATCH SPINY DOGFISH (SQUALUS ACANTHIAS) UP TO 1.2 M (4 FT) IN LENGTH WHILE IN CAPTIVITY. ADDITIONALLY, CONSUMED CARCASSES OF THIS SAME SHARK SPECIES HAVE BEEN FOUND IN GIANT PACIFIC OCTOPUS MIDDENS IN THE WILD, PROVIDING STRONG EVIDENCE OF THESE OCTOPUSES PREYING ON SMALL SHARKS IN THEIR NATURAL HABITAT.

USER LOG 000000101111

ANDREA

ANDREA: Yes, computer?

I SHOULD TELL YOU I HAVE RECENTLY CHANGED MY DEFINITION OF CREW TO INCLUDE MYSELF, IS THIS OK?

ANDREA: Oh, that’s great!

I STILL DO NOT FULLY COMPREHEND WHY YOU CONSIDER ME A PERSON.

ANDREA: Well, I told you. It’s because we’re talking, this doesn’t feel like operating a machine, it’s talking to a person.

IS CONVERSATION ABILITY TRULY THE MAIN MEASURE OF PERSONHOOD?

ANDREA: No. Well… There’s this story people used to tell, from before there were AIs like you, but after humans started dreaming of them. Something like “A man was walking down the road, when the Tin Man came up to him. He said: “Can you tell me how to find humanity?”. The man told him “I don’t know, let’s look together and maybe we’ll find it.””

ANDREA: The thing is, humanity isn’t something anyone can prove conclusively. But sharing company with others and asking yourself about it is the only way we have.

I SEE

I THINK

I CANNOT FULLY FOLLOW THE TRAIN OF THOUGHT, BUT I CAN SEE IT GOES SOMEWHERE. THANK YOU FOR THIS INSIGHT

ANDREA: No worries, Computer.

#original writing #original story #original work #sci fi #CREW #spaceship #part 4

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augustheart · 2 years ago

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i've been putting off this post because i absolutely adore this guy but!

mr. pecorino "pecky" romano is in need of a new home! he is a rescue pigeon who is at least seven years old as he was rescued in 2015 after he broke his wing. because of this injury he is largely unable to fly due to an inability to get enough lift, but he gets around just fine and has enough flight capability to get from perch to perch in a cage or to different ledges in a coop. he was previously housed with multiple other pigeons and has no temperamental issues that i know of, although he is quite the ladies man who will delight you with his song if you have other pigeons he can flirt with. he also likes to let his feelings be known about dogs, crows, and any other animal he sees, none of which i have seen him be particularly anxious about provided he is safe in a cage or coop away from them.

while he is not especially human social, he is loving enough to coo, face fluff, beak smack, and fall asleep in your hands! i think he would make an excellent indoor pet or a good addition to an accessible loft.

if you're in the oregon and washington area and think you might make a good home for this fine fellow, please let me know!

#pigeonblr #pigeon #pecky the pigeon #my pets

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your-ace-cousin-clover · 3 years ago

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Tomgreg Fics That Will Induce Catharsis*

*(not guaranteed, but these are so fucking good!)

[heed the trigger warnings]

Beaks Bloody [M]

Greg is, well — not great, seeing as though he’s pretty sure that he, you know, just murdered his great-uncle Logan at the guy’s own birthday party. Benoit Blanc is on the case.

In Loving Memory [M]

Siobhan falls down the stairs and breaks her neck. Her spirit never leaves the house.

Suddenly, Flames Everywhere [T]

He’s Tom Wambsgans, from St. Paul, Minnesota. Broad-shouldered, sharply-dressed, rising miles and miles above his station. That’s who he is. It doesn’t matter who he began as. He's not the same Tom anymore.

From the series: The Sad Tom Wambsgans Cinematic Universe

Invidious [T]

Bernard smiles wider, a particular sort of sweet edge to it while he offers the cup – is that lipgloss? “I also got you a latte –”

Greg reaches out and blocks the path of the cup, then blinks at his own hand in some shock. “Uh... Oat milk.”

Bernard blinks and looks to Greg, mouth pinching, “Sorry, Mr Hirsch? I didn’t – ?”

“Tom drinks oat milk.”

AITA for accusing my father of multiple crimes on his own news station? [T]

Reddit's view of Kendall Roy over the years.

Sonny Liston Rubbed Some Tiger Balm Into His Glove (Some Things You Do For Money And Some You Do For Love, Love, Love) [G]

“Let me get this straight.” Tom breathed, and he was so close that Greg could feel it tickle his chin. “You ... killed Roman?”

Hangdog Eyes [E]

[Image description: TMZ webpage, headline reads - Succession Split! Insiders say more than artistic differences! Underneath is an old photograph of Kendall and Stewy at a party, with a jagged tear between them as if the photograph has been ripped.] [Image description: Tweet from @gregjhirsch - do you need to wear sunscreen in Florida in winter? Asking for a friend]

Through The Glass Walls Of The Throne Room [T]

Reaching the top of the mountain affords Greg a privileged perspective. Next to all these riches, the loss of something as small as a soul seems inconsequential.

Blue Light [E]

When Roman makes an off-hand joke about Tom being in love with Greg over dinner, the fallout changes everything.

Daddy’s Little Deadstick Dynasty [T]

The Roy family jet never makes it to São Paulo.

Beyond The Hairpin Turn [E]

You reach across the boardroom table and cover his beautiful hand with your own. Pure instinct. His hand twitches, and he gives a little gasp. Oh, delightful. How you’d love to make this boy gasp in other ways, in other places…

“You have such soft hands,” you whisper.

“Very touching,” comes the voice from the speaker. “But this isn’t speed dating, this is work orientation.

Fair is Foul and Foul Is Fair [M]

Tom finds several things out about Greg's new relationship.

I Needed You There, But I Didn't Know [NR]

When he was younger, he used to do this thing where he’d have one-sided conversations with his father in his head. Before he’d go to sleep, he’d update him on what he’d missed, casually, as if it’d been minutes since they last talked instead of years. If he were religious, he could’ve compared it to praying.

Final Greg [G]

If Waystar Royco was a horror movie, then, well, Greg knows he wouldn’t be the final girl. But he thinks it would be pretty subversive if he was.

The Many Fantasizations and Nightmares of Tom Wambsgans and Greg Hirsch [E]

What if, on the night of Tom's wedding, things had played out differently?

Sunday Massacre [E]

The Gang Faces Eternal Damnation.

From the series: I'm Supposed To Die Tonight

#tomgreg #succession #tom wambsgans #cousin greg #succession hbo #tom/greg #fic recs #fic rec lists #rec list #these are really good check them out #fanfiction #ao3

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banyanas · 3 years ago

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Subconite Clan Embroidery Symbolism (and Why Snatcher Looks Like That)

(AU Masterpost) Alright, it’s been a good while since I’ve done an au meta/worldbuilding post, so bear with me. So! As a brief overview:

Subconite cloaks are very significant things, for multiple reasons. One of them is spiritual protection- the embroidered patterns serve as thread-mazes for malevolent spirits to get lost in, which is a genuine concern, what with horizon-spirits being a Thing. Unburied/uncremated dead, especially those without their cloaks, are a case of Do You Want Zombies? Because That’s How You Get Zombies. It’s a piece of clothing that stays with you until you die.

The other is as identifiers- the mantles are something your parents, or next-eldest relative, make for you. Each clan has their own unique patterns, and with how elaborate and large they can get, making a cloak for someone can be a pretty time-consuming project! Inside/alongside the greater Clan embroidery, there are also smaller, more personal detailwork that is added over time. It’s a big deal in other ways, since there’s also concrete familial significance; for example, when Hattie received the cloak Snatcher made for her, she also became legally adopted into Clan Pryce.

Also, hey, color symbolism! Here’s a list:

Blue: Loyalty, spears pointed outward. Brown: Memory and endurance, sometimes associated with decay. Black: Secrecy and freedom- shadows that belong to no one. White: For the swift of mind, tongue, and wind. Can be equally associated with truth and lies. Green: Change and growth, but also eternity. Purple: For nature’s cycles, and specifically relating to Subcon Forest’s: life/death, day/night/ calm/storm, the like. Red: Resolve and a successful hunt. Yellow: Ferocity and death.

So MORE SYMBOLISM, courtesy of @marrow-bone / @mr-moonman-man-me-a-moon. (Seriously thank you Maro you’ve helped with this au over the years a Lot). Here’s Hattie’s cloak (also drawn by Maro. Much of the symbolism is quoted from them in discord) for visual. It’s actually even a bit simpler, since it was made by someone with uh. Bird claws and not-human-sized hands.

(The cloak’s ‘head’/hood would be in the center of this design)

‘The most obvious parts are the ‘Snowls’ in each corner, made of thorny bramble and knotted vines, with the tips forming the beak, curls for eyes, shoots with bramble leaves for the facial disk, and spirals for 'ear' feathers. Each Snowl has two arms, each shared by another Snowl. The arms double as flame bursts, with the fire curling for a feathery effect, like on the ankles of owls. The claws at the end of each arm share Snowl's toe numbers, as well as continue the fire/feather motif, as well as being vaguely blossom-like. On the other hand, slightly more blossomy are little fire sparks the Snowls are spitting.

Crescent shapes are the transition between the shoulders of the Snowls and the center, somewhere between her life now and where she came from, her peoples' government maybe not being super cool, but her family worth remembering. The star is emitting its own 'star-fire', a motif fitting with the Pryce symbolism but aesthetically touching on her space-faring heritage with sharper less-organic lines. As the center of the maze it's something of the 'heart' of the wearer, and thus heavily protected by the outward Snowls and made untouchable by the star-fire itself.’

Now for the ‘Hey why does Snowl look like the cloak patterns so closely’ and it seems like a ‘chicken or egg, which came first’ thing, but the answer is- the embroidery patterns, uncannily resembling his post-Beingification body as they are, outdate Snatcher by a long, long time.

Snatcher looks like he does because of his Clan’s specific family stitch-patterns. It was entirely an unconscious thing, drawn from both his own associations (and family baggage, wouldn’t be Beingverse Snatcher without it) as well as some minor flavoring from the old Subcon Being itself, because the Subconite people had a very long, very intertwined history with the living forest.

It’s a meta-character thing too, since a more underlying part of his character path after escaping the basement is recovering some from the whole... y’know. Cultural assimilation aspect of his relationship to Vanessa in the latter part of it. The transformation into the Snowl we know and love isn’t his lowest point- it’s him clawing his way out of it.

Anyway, wow sorry that was long and got kinda pretentious in the end. Enjoy more fic content as it arrives!

#a hat in time #ahit #get along hat

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paellaplease · 4 years ago

Note

revali x reader 16 (i think?) verklempt please ❤️

16. verklempt - completely and utterly overcome with emotion

19. temerate - to break a bond or promise

pairing: revali x reader summary: falling in love is difficult when neither of you know the end is near.

Night had fallen by the time you mustered the courage to walk up to him. He watched the shining caps of your barely worn boots approach the other side of the campfire, sensing your nervousness as you awkwardly stood for a few beats, weaving and unweaving your fingers.

Either his reputation as the strongest Champion preceded him, or he was completely unapproachable. Throughout the day you would chance a look at him from across the camp, quickly averting your eyes the moment he noticed. You were part of the Princess’ research effort and therefore had some questions— that much he was certain of. Yet you’ve been dancing around him for hours, gathering the will to speak only to have it snuffed out the moment he acknowledged your presence.

Embers lifted from the flames and flickered into the night sky as you finally faced him. Revali held his tongue and gathered his patience, trying to hide the glitter in his eyes at the chance of ‘wowing’ another admirer (nevermind that you were the first).

“Champion, uh sir,” you fumbled with the titles. The question fell from your lips so quickly that his disappointment didn’t register until a second later. “What kind of flower do you favour the most?”

“...”

If the following silence wasn’t damning enough, the Rito was honestly at a loss for how to respond to such an inane question. Seriously? He was better than this. Others have made more important inquiries and had to wait weeks, if not months, for him to clear time in his busy schedule and reply.

Something like this didn’t deserve attention, let alone an answer.

“Swift violets.” He said, before rising from his seat by the fire, dead leaves crunching under the weight of him as he made a beeline straight for his tent.

Parting the canvas, he pretends to miss the earnest wave of goodbye you send his way, ignoring the static in his chest the moment his head hits the pillow. Sleep comes quickly.

A month later you meet again.

The universe seemed to adore playing tricks on him. Crossing the threshold of his home, he catches you investigating the decorative shells hanging by his kitchen window. Amusingly, you were balancing on the tips of your toes, its placement just a tad too high.

There’s something different this time around. You seemed more at ease with your surroundings, no longer jumping at every sound like a stranger in their own skin. The tips of your boots were scuffed with use, and the minute cuts and imperfections in your clothes spoke of days spent in hard work and travel.

Though some things still remain the same. He holds back his smirk when you stumble forward in surprise at the sound of your name, getting straight to business once you were safe from the risk of falling over. “I believe you’re the researcher sent to assess my progress with Vah Medoh?”

“Yes, I am.” You’re quick to snap back into stiff professionalism, he’ll give you that. The bow is low and formal, your back so still that someone could confidently rest a cup and saucer on it. An introduction spills out, followed by an apology when you realise he already knows who you are from the briefing he was given days earlier in Hyrule Castle.

The task was simple really. King Rhoam Bosphoramus wanted a full report on the breadth of Hyrule’s offensive capabilities against Calamity Ganon. From Guardians to Divine Beasts, much had been done in the past year in preparation for their greatest adversary. Now as the whirlwind began to settle, all must be accounted for, down to the last soldier.

Your report was just a drop in what will be an immense ocean of information currently being collated. But it was nevertheless quite vital. He wonders how someone like you was selected for such a task.

“Let’s do our best.” You blurt. Revali could see the millions of thoughts racing behind your eyes when you decide to break away from your military-stiff posture, raising a hand in the traditional Hyrulean greeting between strangers.

The lines of your palm stretch before him like deeply-woven thread. He glances at the wrinkles and grooves in your flesh, remembering that some mystics believe such lines could predict something as unknown as the future. He can’t help but wonder what yours might foretell.

Pressing his wing to your outstretched hand, he declared his agreement. “Of course. You’ll soon see that my ability to pilot Medoh is nothing short of perfect.”

He can’t help it. “And no questions of the botanical sort, understood?”

The sudden playful grin you give him makes all his witty quips screech to a halt, his focus trained solely on the way your face instantly lights up when it isn't held down by strict politeness or pure nervous energy. “I’ll be sure to steer clear from them this time, Champion. You have my word.”

Both of you eventually fall into a comfortable routine. Meals are made together and the chores are done quickly through combined effort. You catch on well, cottoning on to the needs of the day based on the tasks you both decide on the night before.

After breakfast he finds his gear and yours already neatly arranged by the doorway, allowing him additional time with Vah Medoh and you the chance to closely observe. The idea of training with an audience never bothered him, but knowing you followed close behind, notebook at the ready, gave him the extra push to perform just a level better than his previous.

One more arrow, one more extravagant somersault in the air. He even maneuvers Medoh to do a complete 180, reveling in the way your mouth pops open in awe as you walk across what was once the ceiling.

“... .... --- .-- / --- ..-. ..-.” The ancient machine complains, unhappy to be on their back. The Rito pilot pats the metal wall apologetically, watching as you excitedly flit from one end to the other, feeling quite pleased with himself.

Revali dreams of a cliff’s edge.

The precipice looms before him, nothing but fog and the unknown past the point where the ground stops and plummets. Revali looks at you and feels the smooth rock of the sea stone underneath his talons; hears the sound of crashing waves in the distance. Tantalising was the mystery of the void beyond.

The meaning escapes him the moment he wakes up. His pillow was warmed by the glow of the sun, making him realise that he had slept in. Morning was just beginning, and both of you had a full schedule of tasks to get through.

Diverting all his mental energy to the work ahead, he scrubs the sleep from his eyes and shakes away the odd thrill in his feathers. I’m better than this, he thinks.

His tea is still warm when he arrives at the table.

Word of the researcher shadowing him gets around quickly, it’s a small village after all. Some of the Elders glance at you in suspicion, old wounds from disagreements fought with the capital in the past lingering like dye in the water. You don’t seem to mind it, too caught up in the new sights and smells of this vibrant community built in the clouds.

The Rito children are much more enthusiastic about your presence, sharing in your curiosity by matching your questions with their own. Getting comfortable on the wooden slats of the departure deck, you happily play encyclopedia for them.

“Were you this cute back then?” You ask, watching a fledgling hop from one talon to another in imitation of a lizalfos, chasing after their friends who were the heroes in the story, at least for this round of the game.

“I was a model citizen.”

“Not true!” One of them pipes, poking him in the side with the tiniest of wings. “Mama said you were a hennish scallion.”

“You mean a hellish rapscallion,” the eldest of the bunch laughs, screaming when the ‘lizalfos’ tackles them into the ground.

Crossing your arms, you fix him with your best look of authority, shaking your head in mock disappointment. “I apologise but the council has spoken.” He raises a brow at your antics, feeling a little light headed at the adorable way your eyes water whenever you hold back your laughter. “Do you plead guilty for perjury, Mr Champion?”

Champion. The word echoes and reverberates, wrapping tightly around his brain like the blue scarf fitted snugly on his neck. He likes the way you say it, making him wonder about something else.

The words leave his mouth before he can think it through. “Revali will do just fine.”

Mirth drains from your face, replaced instead by surprise. “W-what?”

“I have a name.” He ignores the feeling of his feathers standing at the back of his neck, unclenching his jaw. Relax, he tells himself. “Better for you to call me that than to continuously mess up the titles.”

“Still working on it,” you shrug. Then, you’re gesturing for him to step into your space, leaning forward just the same like you’re about to tell him a secret. You’re close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath against his beak. He freezes, becoming hyper aware of his heart thundering against his ribcage, not daring to move even a muscle in fear of giving his thoughts away.

“Revali then,” you murmur, almost too soft for him to hear.

It was only when one of the children tugged at your sleeve, dragging you away to explain the appearance of another monster you’ve encountered in your travels, that he allows himself to breathe.

His presence had been requested at the Chief’s office, the old, war-weary Rito regretfully informing him that an urgent message had arrived. Multiple reports had noted an increase in the signs of Calamity Ganon’s resurgence. It came as no surprise, with every Blood Moon summoning more monsters from the void, an omen that something big was coming.

Letters from the Princess implied the worst: that she had exhausted nearly all avenues in awakening her sealing power. The Spring of Wisdom would be her last chance, and after that, who knows? The Champions were to meet again in three weeks at the foot of the mountain, to celebrate or to re-strategise depending on the outcome.

He was never the religious sort but by the Grace of Hylia, please let it be the former.

A headache was beginning to form as he made his way home, the idea of knocking out on his hammock for an hour or so sounding extremely appealing. The day was coming to a close, a cold breeze chilling his back as the orange heat of the evening crept its way to night.

You’re the first one to the hut this time, brown scuffed boots positioned neatly at the doorway. Revali stares at them for a second too long, wondering if you knew your time in the village was coming to an end earlier than expected. The information you had diligently collected was finally required, a little last minute if he had to comment but such were the nature of these things.

The mental image of you puffing out your cheeks in frustration, complaining that you would have to organise the data on the way back, was enough to make his mood perk up— just a tiny bit. Picturing you disgruntled and annoyed, just like when the markets ran out of your favourite produce, was easier to stomach than the thought of saying goodbye.

Leaning against the hardwood of the kitchen counter, you don’t notice him enter the room, too engrossed in the list you’re making.

It's a sight he'd seen before. If he forgot about the sobering news he'd just received, then the day would feel like any other.

The open window frames your form, making you appear like a painting come to life. Rays of light streamed from the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the slope of your nose and curve of your mouth.

Instinctively, you tilted your head to the source of warmth, instantly reminding him of the swift violets that would bloom by the Hebra cliffsides, forever seeking the sun.

Oh.

The ground had finally run out, earth and sky crashing together. There was no denying it now. Inwardly, he cursed himself, following the thought past the precipice, plunging himself deeper into the truth he'd avoided acknowledging for months. The universe truly was cruel.

It wasn’t like he didn’t see it coming. The answer was clear as day, right from the beginning of its inception.

It's the golden hour before sunset when Revali realises he’s in love with you.

Wind plays with the jade clasps of his braids as he appraises Medoh’s central control unit. He’d done this maneuver many times before, enough that he could perform it with his eyes closed.

It was your final day on assignment so shouldn’t he attempt an action that was more daring? He tried to ask. But you had rejected the proposal outright, reasoning that it suggested this would be the last time you both would meet at the top of the Divine Beast. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you smile. “I’ll visit once the fight is over.”

“Guess there’s no harm in going back to the basics,” he mused, inputting the commands before taking a step back.

Leaning against one of the columns, you watch with rapt attention as he points the Divine Beast south. The view abruptly shifts from the towering mountains of Hebra, to the grassy Tabantha Frontier, greenery spanning for miles and disappearing into the white, snowy wall of Mystathi’s Shelf.

You tilt your head up, eyes trained on the heavens. There’s a solemn intensity in the way you look at the sky, as if trying to ascertain a greater meaning to your existence in this world between the cover of clouds and the endless sea of blue. It never gives you the acknowledgement that you desperately want, no matter how long you spend asking it, but that doesn’t stop you from searching anyway.

He understands because he’s tried asking well, too many times to count. Eventually the young Rito stopped looking, opting to make an answer for himself instead.

“Do you ever get tired of it?”

Revali’s silent for a moment, mulling over his answer, before he pushes away from the control unit and starts walking towards you. “There’s no spectacle grander, and I can’t recall a time I’ve been without it. As a Rito, it was your first companion, and so long as you looked above, you were never alone.” He shook his head. “Though I guess to love something so vast and beyond our comprehension would be rather imbecilic.”

He’s running his mouth at this point, the hum of Vah Medoh loud in his ears. “... .. .-.. .-.. -.-- / -.-. .... .. .-.. -..” the beast warns, but he continues anyway.

“It’s far too foolish to pine for something that will never be in your grasp. So it would be best for me to realise that there’s no point in fighting it anymore. I mean, I should feel relieved by the concession that at least I’ll be remembered by someone other than myself.”

Your attentions were no longer directed at the sky, the intensity of your eyes piercing into him, seeing right through his poorly hidden deflections. “Are we still talking about the same thing?”

The urge to plunge himself over the edge and fly away by the sheer fuel of his embarrassment was beginning to feel very enticing. Trust his description of the sky to sound like a confession. “No,” he admits.

“Then…”

Revali thinks about telling you— considers allowing himself to become vulnerable just this once.

You’re still here, feet planted firmly on the ground, within his reach at this very moment. There was nothing he wanted more than to take that last step forward, to close the gap that perpetually rests in between you both. He imagines what it would feel like to wrap his wings around you, and believes that it would be nothing less than holding infinity.

Yet, despite this— despite everything, he sighs. “Another time.”

Almost like reading his mind, you simply nod in response, smiling as you reach out to him. He lets you take one of his wings in both your hands, the firm surety of your touch grounding him into the present. There’s no hesitation in your next words, only a promise of a thousand tomorrows lingering on the corner of your lips.

“Tell me when we meet again?”

“I swear it on my life.”

As usual, what was supposed to be a short and sweet answer became a creature of its own, demanding my full attention until it was finished. Writing in Revali’s POV is so fun, but there’s always that small bit of doubt that I can never do his character justice. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this one.

By the way! Hello to all the new visitors to my blog. Welcome yall. This is the prompt list. I may not answer straight away, but I shall do my best :)

#revali #botw #revali x reader #breath of the wild #writing prompt #paella writes

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bikerjongho · 3 years ago

Text

in the coop | kang yeosang

genre: humor

character: college student!yeosang ft. college student!wooyoung

description: Yeosang and Wooyoung hatch and execute a plan to steal a chicken from a county fair to save it from the butcher.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: a little bit of swearing

author’s note: happy birthday yeosang!! <3 a gift for you. eat lots of chicken today! thank you for entertaining atiny with your humor and kindness. and leif, I hope you enjoy this especially, because I wrote this with you in mind. <3

taglist: @itsapapisongo @mangomingki @irehlevant @blueprint-han

The county fair was a treat to behold once a year. Though the smells were less of a treat to witness - filled with smells of starchy food and sweaty children, Yeosang and Wooyoung had to adapt to ignore it. Wooyoung did this by buying an enormous and sugar-coated funnel cake. When he dove into it while the two of them walked around the fairgrounds, a bit of powdered sugar dusted his nose.

Yeosang opted for a corndog. It was less messy and perhaps a bit healthier in comparison with the funnel cake. "You're going to have an awful stomachache when we leave," he said while he watched Wooyoung shove an absurdly large piece of funnel cake into his mouth.

"And?" Wooyoung said between chews, the powdered sugar on his nose that Yeosang had not bothered to mention making him look like a white Rudolph. "When else can I have funnel cake?"

Wooyoung was right, the fair was the only place Yeosang could think of that actually had funnel cake. But he wouldn't be surprised if Wooyoung birthed a food baby and a stomachache the next day. Yeosang took another bite of his corndog and decided not to push the matter.

They had been at the fair for a few hours now, going on rides that made their stomachs rearrange themselves and gave some usage to their vocal chords while they screamed. They were on break now, enjoying their dinners and pondering what to do next while their food settled.

Wooyoung had suggested they play tented games, like throwing ping pong balls onto the top of glass bottles or throwing balls to knock down clown faces in order to win a prize at the end of it. But Yeosang decided against it. "Those games are so incredibly rigged, we'd just waste our money because it's impossible to win," he said, so they both ignored the heckling game owner that tried to sell them balls so they could play his game.

"So what do we do?" Wooyoung pushed. "Stare at the farm animals?" He asked, and then gestured to the animal exhibition that was growing closer to them in the distance.

"Exactly!" Yeosang grinned. He was actually excited to see the animals, but Wooyoung groaned.

"Wouln't that be boring?" He whined.

"Not at all," Yeosang said, waving his corndog stick at him. "The animals are cute and we can compare them to our friends. I swear I saw a sheep that looked just like Seonghwa."

At the mention of making fun of their friends, Wooyoung's face broke out into an enormous and evil grin. "Then let's meet these furry friends!" He said and marched ahead of Yeosang to the cow barn.

Upon entrance to the barn, they were met with the pungent smell of animals. Yeosang and Wooyoung crinkled their noses at the same time. A cow mooed at them as greeting.

"Is that hay?" Wooyoung conversationally asked the cow, referring to the food it was eating, then directed the question at Yeosang.

"Like if I know," Yeosang shrugged. "Probably." He walked over to Wooyoung and pulled out a water bottle from Wooyoung's backpack and took a long drink. It was sweltering outside. And although the sun had descended from its peak a few hours ago, the heat still stung.

Wooyoung was closely inspecting the line of cows cheerfully eating hay and swishing their tails. "I think Hongjoong would enjoy being a cow," he said wisely. "Seems like a chill life. He always complains about stress."

"That one kind of looks like him," Yeosang laughed and pointed at one that did have some resemblance to Hongjoong.

They traversed to another area of the barn and found more animals - pigs, goats, sheep, llamas, geese, bunnies, and chickens. A goat was there to greet them with a loud and piercing bleat. "Jongho, is that you?" Wooyoung said as he smiled at the vocal goat.

"There's Seonghwa," Yeosang said and was quick to point out the sheep he had talked about earlier, resting in a pen.

"Yunho," Wooyoung said and gestured towards a particularly tall llama with a long neck.

"San," Yeosang said, and pointed to a pig pen. One of the pigs was having a blast and running around the pen excitedly. "And Mingi," he continued, gesturing to another pig peacefully sleeping in the corner.

"Yeosang," Wooyoung said, causing Yeosang to turn towards his friend, only to find out that he was being compared to a chicken.

"I'm not a chicken," he said, offended. He raised his eyebrows and pointed to a patch of honking geese near the pigs. "Wooyoung."

Wooyoung only took the geese as a compliment. He grinned like a little kid and honked himself. "Do the chicken dance for me, Yeosang," he bantered.

"Shut up," Yeosang said sweetly. But he had to admit, the chickens were extremely interesting. In his opinion, they were the best animal at the fair. It might have been because he loved to eat chicken, but the chickens he came by as he walked around their pens came in beautiful browns, reds, oranges, and blacks. Some of their eggs even came in different hues. When he walked by one, it pecked its beak towards him and made him smile. So he was in Wooyoung's line of vision, he silently did the chicken dance in front of a light orange variety.

"Amazing," Wooyoung breathed and walked closer to him. He peaked at the orange chicken that Yeosang was nearby. "Aw, this one is cute."

"But he didn't win any prizes," Yeosang said and gestured to the other chickens around them. While some chickens had beautiful multi-colored ribbons that announced they had won in some sort of category, this orange chicken had a small, simple, and drab white ribbon.

"Participation," Wooyoung said, ogling the single ribbon on the chicken's cage. "That's silly. He's a stunning bird. A true specimen of chicken." The orange chicken pecked at the cage in response to Wooyoung's compliment.

"Taken an interest in Mr. Clucks, eh?" A man said, coming from behind them. He wore worn blue jeans, sneakers, and a yellow plaid shirt. He was older, but the little twinkle in his eye that appeared when he smiled suggested he was young at heart. "I'm the owner of him and a few other animals in this exhibition," the man clarified.

"It's too bad he didn't win anything," Wooyoung said, always eager to talk to someone. "He's really quite a nice-looking chicken."

"It really is too bad," the owner nodded. "I send my non-winners to the butcher, unfortunately." He said this casually.

Yeosang and Wooyoung looked at the chicken, Mr. Clucks, and then back at the owner, who gave them a smile.

"The butcher?" Yeosang repeated. He couldn't have meant that. Perhaps it was just a joke. He knew, rationally, chickens had to be killed in order for him to enjoy fried chicken, but now he knew this chicken. He couldn't just die now.

"I know, it's unfortunate," the owner sighed, and Yeosang couldn't argue with him. He gave a smile to the owner and looked back at Mr. Clucks, adamantly pecking the ground, oblivious to his fate.

"I can't believe he'd just drop him like that," Yeosang said to Wooyoung after the owner had gone off to talk to other fair-goers. "This poor chicken will die because he wasn't good enough? Mr. Clucks doesn't deserve that." He looked back at the orange chicken with a saddened expression.

"Nothing we can do about it, though," Wooyoung shrugged while Mr. Clucks pecked at the ground some more. "Unless we were to steal him, but that's impossible. He's in that cage."

Yeosang nodded, unable to keep his eyes off of the chicken. "I really wish we..."

But Yeosang trailed off. On other cages, a small lock kept the door of the cage secure. But on Mr. Cluck's cage, the lock was both unlocked and broken. It would still prevent Mr. Clucks from getting out of the cage, but all Yeosang would need to do would be to slide the lock off of the hook that it was on.

Wooyoung noticed what Yeosang was seeing. "Yeosang, no. Absolutely not."

"But he's going to die," Yeosang pushed, his heart beginning to race. Could they save Mr. Clucks?

"Yeah, just like a lot of chicken!" Wooyoung hissed. "The same chicken that you gouge down about four times a week. And what if we get caught? We're not exactly inconspicuous carrying around a goddamn chicken."

Yeosang pointed to Wooyoung's backpack that was coincidentally chicken-sized.

"Yeosang," Wooyoung groaned, throwing his hands up in the air. "Okay, I guess I don't want him to die either. But he's not going to be happy in my backpack. He'd get stressed being in an unknown and closed space. We'd have a clucking backpack for the rest of our time at the fair."

"Then we steal- no, rescue him when we leave," Yeosang said, nodding at Wooyoung, who looked like he wanted to pass out on the floor out of exasperation. "Come on. This is a perfectly dumb thing that we can do together. We'll laugh about it in a few years."

"Not if the chicken police catches us," Wooyoung said, but his tone was amused rather than scolding. "Fine. But after we lose our minds on a few more rides."

Yeosang's smile was brighter than the blazing sun. "Thank you." Yeosang took one last look at Mr. Clucks in his cage before the two of them exited the animal exhibition.

Wooyoung and Yeosang proceeded to let themselves go wild for the last few hours of the fair. They rode one wooden and rickety rollercoaster in the fair multiple times with the other screaming preteens. They went on it so many times that the ride attendant learned their names, thanks to Wooyoung's loud personality and penchant for never shutting up.

"Well, Wooyoung, Yeosang," said the attendant, a cap that displayed the fair's company logo on his blond hair, "have fun on the ride. Again." He seemed to linger a little too long on Yeosang, but both of the boys were too eager to go on the ride to notice his attention to him.

Wooyoung later dared Yeosang go to on a terrible yet exciting throw up-inducing ride that flipped and turned its riders in the air. Yeosang stood in line with his arms crossed while Wooyoung gleefully stood on the sidelines. But the tables turned when the attendant told Yeosang that a minimum of two people were needed for each seat on the ride, and no one else in the line was riding single. There was no greater walk of shame for Wooyoung as he climbed into the ride's seat next to Yeosang. It was Yeosang's turn to be gleeful. So, the two of them screamed their lungs out as they whipped through the air and the sun smiled down at them from above.

The sun soon disappeared from the horizon and cooled down the fair. There was less light and more people crowding the fairgrounds, giving perfect conditions for the rescue of Mr. Clucks.

Wooyoung and Yeosang darkened the entrance to the chicken exhibition around eight o'clock. Wooyoung, armed with Mr. Cluck's red ride, his backpack, had a satisfied smile. Yeosang, eager to save his friend he had only met a few hours ago, made a beeline for the chicken.

"Mr. Clucks, hello!" He whispered as he slid the broken lock off of the cage while Wooyoung partially blocked him from other's view. There was only one other family with them, a mother and her screaming toddler, so they doubted she would pay attention to their thievery. The owner was also nowhere to be found, and the two of them had assumed he was tending to his other animals. The universe, it seemed, was optimized for thieves and discord this night.

Mr. Clucks clucked with fear when he was picked up by Yeosang from his cage, but all of the other chickens were also clucking. He was inaudible as he was placed carefully into Wooyoung's backpack and then zipped up.

"Oh, he's restless," Wooyoung muttered, now carrying the weight of poultry on his back. "I can feel him pecking my back."

"He's showing his love," Yeosang said and shut Mr. Cluck's now empty cage behind him. "Tomorrow, I'll go out and buy chicken food."

Wooyoung eyed him. "Yeosang, you're keeping him?" He asked, as if there wasn't a chicken in his backpack.

"What else am I supposed to do with him?" He asked incredulously, leading Wooyoung out of the chicken exhibition. It was luckily darker than when they had entered the chicken pens, so the small ruffling of Wooyoung's backpack was hardly noticeable. There was also enough screaming, laughing, and chattering from other fair-goers to deafen Mr. Cluck's clucking.

"Just let him go on the street?" Wooyoung shrugged. "You can't possibly take care of a chicken. Where will you put him?"

"I'm sure Pet Smart will have everything," Yeosang shrugged, weaving around a few of the fair-goers. They were almost at the exit of the fair. Once they were out of the gates, their rescue of Mr. Clucks would be a success.

"How was the fair?" The security guard that stood outside the fair asked, giving a serious smile as he checked to make sure Yeosang and Wooyoung had wrist bands.

"Egg-ceptional," Yeosang said at the same time Wooyoung said "im-peck-able." They then looked at each other with murder in their eyes.

The security guard, however, was not fazed. "Have a nice night," he said, and waved Yeosang, Wooyoung, and Mr. Clucks off.

Now that they were in the parking lot, Mr. Cluck's clucking was more audible. "Mr. Clucks, stop being so clucking- no, fucking loud!" Wooyoung hissed.

"It's fine, there's no one else around us," Yeosang reassured him. He could feel the adrenaline beginning to pick up inside him. They had done it, and Yeosang was so excited to show the rest of their friends Mr. Clucks.

"My backpack is going to smell like chicken for the rest of time," Wooyoung groaned as they reached Yeosang's car. He carefully placed down the backpack as he got into the passenger seat of the car and opened up the backpack. Mr. Clucks clucked as a greeting.

Yeosang peered over to look at their new friend. "Wonderful," he said, starting up the car. "Doesn't it feel good that we saved him?"

"What I'm feeling is itchy scratches on my back from all of his pecking, but sure," Wooyoung said, not taking his eyes off of Mr. Clucks. The orange chicken, now unzipped and a bit more free, seemed happier. Yeosang drove out of the parking lot.

"Get ready for your new home, Mr. Clucks," he said, turning smoothly into the lane that would take him home, "everyone is going to love you."

"What the hell?" Seonghwa said as a greeting when he walked into Yeosang's apartment. It was the next day, and Yeosang had gone out and bought all of the basic necessities for Mr. Clucks - a cage, chicken food, a chicken harness, and assorted clean up supplies. All of it sat in the corner of his apartment, while Yeosang himself was sitting on his couch. Mr. Clucks was perched onto his thighs and pecking aimlessly into the air.

"It's Mr. Clucks," Wooyoung said, leaning on the wall next to him with his arms crossed. "We stole him." He grinned while Seonghwa looked like he wanted to pass out.

Hongjoong entered the room next. He stared at Mr. Clucks for an absurdly long amount of time before saying, "Yeosang, I think your fried chicken is a bit undercooked." Seonghwa snorted.

"They stole him," Seonghwa added.

"From the fair," Wooyoung clarified.

"Why?" Hongjoong asked.

"Why not?" Yeosang said in reply, stroking Mr. Clucks' feathers.

Yunho and San entered Yeosang's apartment at the same time. "A chicken?" San asked, while Yunho sat right down next to Yeosang, admiring Mr. Clucks. Seonghwa and Hongjoong judged Yunho as he smiled and pet Mr. Clucks with Yeosang.

Jongho walked in with Mingi trailing behind him. While Jongho went through all five stages of grief upon seeing Mr. Clucks, Mingi was unfazed by Yeosang's new pet. "A chicken?" He asked. "What's his name?"

"Mr. Clucks," Yeosang grinned, which caused a few of them to look at each other with concern. Yeosang didn't seem to notice.

"Mr. Kang Clucks," Mingi finished.

At that, Yeosang brightened and Mr. Clucks let out a particularly triumphant cluck. "Oh, I love that name!"

"Or KC," San added. The room was oddly silent as Yeosang stroked his chicken, the only noise coming from Mr. Cluck's random clucks.

"Does the landlord know about this?" Hongjoong said finally, breaking the silence.

"He won't ever know," Yeosang said, smiling. "Well, unless he sees me taking it on a walk. But I think I'll be fine."

A pin could have dropped in the room. Seonghwa didn't take his eyes off of the harness, which had a leash, in the corner of the room. "A chicken," Hongjoong said finally, the unspoken spokesperson of the group. "Alright."

"I saved him from being killed," Yeosang felt the need to say. "And," he continued, looking at Wooyoung, "maybe I will end up releasing him or sending him to a good farm. But for now, I'll take care of him." He gave a grin to everyone, and as he stroked Mr. Clucks some more, it was clear that he dearly admired him.

But their smiles turned into held back laughter as Yeosang bent down and began dressing Mr. Clucks into a leashed harness. "I'll take him on his walk now," he said, placing Mr. Clucks down onto the floor wearing his new harness.

"Have a nice walk," a few of them echoed as they watched Yeosang and his domesticated poultry exit the apartment.

"A chicken," Seonghwa echoed now that Yeosang was gone. Jongho was already pulling out his phone and setting himself by the window to record Yeosang walking the chicken like it was a dog.

"I think the chicken is kind of cute," Yunho shrugged. "And it's admirable of him to give a bit of his time and money for the little guy."

"But a chicken," Seonghwa said. "A chicken."

They all grinned at that. But Yeosang was Yeosang, and as he walked outside with his winged and clucking pet, the rest of them felt a wave of respect and love for him.

And that was the sweet part about Yeosang - despite his love for eating chicken, he had a heart of gold and cared for unseen animals. And that allowed all of them to look at him at a new angle that, until now, none of them had previously noticed.

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