#not because Dream is avian or anything

[rat-rosemary]

Techno would have Dream perch on his shoulders like a parrot

[screamlet]

08x06 fix-it fic: break and be mended

not connected to that excerpt i posted before, just something completely different. 4.5k, read on the ao3

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Another hospital room. Buck takes a deep breath and closes his eyes again, letting it out and hoping he gets back to sleep. It doesn't happen, though, because his brain catches up to his eyes:

Maddie, wearing a yellow paper hospital mask, a hand anxiously on her belly, sitting in the chair next to him with that too-familiar oh-thank-god-you're-finally-awake face… and Tommy leaning in the doorway.

He takes another deep breath and opens his eyes again.

"You're okay," Maddie says patiently, slowly, as Buck tries to slam the door shut or set the doorway on fire with his brain. "It's just the turkey flu, it hit you hard."

That breaks Buck's concentration. "Wait, is this a dream? Another coma dream? Turkey flu has to be something I made up."

Maddie raises her eyebrows and looks over her shoulder at Tommy before turning back to Buck. "Another one?"

"No, no, don't look at him," Buck interrupts. "He's not supposed to be here, not when I have turkey flu, not ever. He broke up with me, remember?"

In the doorway, Tommy shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He's wearing the dark blue LAFD t-shirt and pleated pants, a special Air Ops patch on his shirt sleeve. They always lurked under his flight suit, under his turnouts when they were on the same scene, but Buck didn't get to see them often. It was for the best, he thinks now, because the shirt fits perfectly across Tommy's chest and shoulders, the pants belted low. His shirt is tucked in better than Buck's ever is. He almost never got to see him like this so it feels like some new Tommy he's seeing, a Tommy that hangs around Harbor long enough to take off his flight suit but doesn't peel the rest of his work self off. He doesn't get off his shift, put the pilot away, shower and go home.

Buck looks away. He's looked too long.

"I'm actually here, you know." Tommy raps his knuckles on the door like that's proof of anything except a very strong poltergeist. "I can hear you."

Buck watches something that he hasn't seen in years sweep across Maddie's face (mostly her eyebrows, because of the mask).

She turns around and snaps, "I let you come within ten feet of my brother and you think bitchy fun Tommy was invited, too? He was not." Tommy looks shocked and abashed; Buck loves her so much.

"Why was he invited at all, Maddie?" Buck asks. "And you're both real, right? Like I'm not hallucinating both of you. Is that a turkey flu symptom? Can I have my phone? I need to look up turkey flu."

"It's a strain of avian flu, you just happened to get it from a turkey farm. Hen said you had a call to one of those last week," Maddie explains. "And you kept giggling when I said the words turkey flu so, you know, why not?"

"It's pretty funny," Buck admits. "Hey, why's he here?"

Maddie turns around and looks at Tommy expectantly. Buck still knows his face, still knows him, and can see the quip that wants to escape past his lips. He can see the work it takes to hold it back and look sincere, really sincere, for them.

"You collapsed at a scene and I flew you over," Tommy says. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Buck stares at him as he presses his lips into a fine line. "I'm okay. Thanks."

Tommy nods, then asks, "Can we talk? Alone?"

It's taken four months, almost as long as they were together, but Buck's finally hearing the words he's wanted to hear since Tommy walked out his door. I'm sorry, I was scared, I love you, yes let's take the next step together, from now on let's take every step together—that was Buck's first choice. Can we talk as a jumping off point for all those other things—that was Buck's second choice. Was.

Buck glances at Maddie and knows his face does something dumb. "I'll be outside," Maddie says. "And I'm not far, if you want me to throw him out." She looks over her shoulder at Tommy. "I'll do it."

Tommy nods. "Wouldn't doubt you for a second."

She squeezes Buck's hand and lingers for a beat, one long look at him like she's waiting for him to say actually, wait, don't, stay, but he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't. He hates that he wants to hear what Tommy has to say.

She and Tommy swap places; he takes the chair next to Buck's bed and she leaves, shutting the door behind her. Tommy doesn't see the way she passes by the window like a shark, watching, but Buck laughs. When Tommy looks back, she's gone.

"Your sister's changed a little," Tommy says casually. "Her sense of humor, I mean."

Buck licks his lips. "Yeah, well, when you were my boyfriend, you were her friend. Now you're neither."

"Yep, got it," Tommy says. He sits back in the chair, but looks so uncomfortable that someone would think he'd never sat in one before.

"Are you okay?" Buck asks. "Why are you here?"

"This chair is so weird."

"Tommy, what do you want to talk about?"

It startles Tommy, and it should. He only got soft and smitten, totally-in-love (even if he couldn't admit it out loud) Evan Buckley, cute and bratty Evan Buckley. He doesn't get that Evan anymore. No one has.

Tommy sits with his feet flat on the floor and his hands folded in his lap. He takes a minute, a long minute, of staring at the floor before he looks up and stares at Buck. "You asked me to move in with you."

Buck blinks. "I did."

"You asked me to move in with you."

"You said that. I mean, I said that, but you—"

"Evan," Tommy interrupts.

"I thought I was Buck now," Buck interrupts.

Bitchiness lurks on Tommy's tongue, but he holds it back. "You asked me to move in with you. Into the loft."

Buck tilts his head. "Yeah?"

Tommy shuts his eyes hard and shakes his head before he looks at Buck again. "Evan, I own a house."

"... okay?"

"Did you ask me to move in with you and expect me to give up my house?"

"What, no—" Buck says, then stops himself. "I don't—I didn't think—"

"Did you even think about that?" Tommy asks. "Like when you talked about moving in together, getting married, the future, all of that—did you even remember that I own a house?"

"You know," Buck interrupts. "Four months ago, you could have said, haha, wow, that's moving pretty fast, also I own a house, maybe when we're ready, we could move into MY HOUSE and make it OUR HOUSE, but you needed to run out the door so why would you say any of that?"

"Yeah! I was freaked out! Because here was this guy I—this guy I really liked, and he asked me, a 40-year-old man, to move into his loft?"

"What's wrong with it? Why do you keep saying it like that?"

"It's downtown! Downtown is loud and filthy and did I mention it's noisy? It was hell sleeping there in the summer because even with your central air, heat rises and it rises right into the bedroom. I saw your electric bill, Evan, it was unforgivable."

Buck wants to throw something at him. "And we could have been at your house, quiet and with better temperature control, but we weren't because…?"

"I'm just saying," Tommy continues. "Yeah, all that's true, but I realized you wanted me, wanted a future with me, and you didn't even remember that when I wasn't working or with you, I was at my house."

"I get that," Buck says. "Now how many times did we hang out at your house?"

Tommy sighs. "It's out of the way, your place was always closer to the 118 and to Harbor, and I kept—I was going to, okay? Like maybe after our anniversary, we'd take a week off together and we'd actually be at my house, or take a trip somewhere—"

"You got me basketball tickets," Buck snipes at him.

Tommy stops completely.

"For our six month anniversary, remember?"

"How the hell am I going to forget that?"

"You got me tickets to see the Lakers. Really good tickets."

Tommy rolls his eyes. "Alright, well, that's the last time I call that guy I know in the press office for anything."

Buck thinks he's getting closer to setting something on fire with his mind. "I hate basketball."

Tommy stares at him. "What the hell are you talking about? We met because of basketball."

Buck sits up so quickly and angrily he starts wheezing and that turns into a coughing fit. Tommy's immediately there, sitting on the edge of his bed with water, getting him to take a small sip as he rubs his back. When Buck realizes what's happening, he covers his mouth with his blanket and shoves Tommy away, coughing even more.

"Sorry, I was just—"

"I have turkey flu!" Buck yells through the blanket covering his mouth.

"The doctor said you're not contagious anymore."

Buck points at a small paper box across the room. Tommy, so put-upon, grabs a pale yellow mask and slips it on before he sits in the chair again. "Sorry."

"It's—" Buck halts because Tommy had grabbed two masks and was holding one out to him expectantly. Tommy motions to it again and Buck can see how he wants to make a bitchy comment about not having this conversation through a hospital blanket, but he doesn't. That's what makes Buck reach out and put the mask on. The icy fist around his heart thinks about melting.

"We didn't meet because of basketball, we met because of Bobby and Athena and the cruise ship," Buck corrects. "I wanted to see you again after that tour at Harbor but I couldn't think of another reason—"

"I gave you the widest of openings," Tommy interrupts. "Hello? Flight lessons? When you finally offered to buy me a beer, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there."

"But you never called me! You're the one who left to hang out with Eddie!"

Tommy throws up his hands. "Ball was in your court! Speaking of basketball."

Buck sighs, exasperated. "We weren't, like, running into each other, I didn't have a reason to call you—don't say the beer—so finally I saw Eddie was going to that pick-up game with you and I dragged Chimney along."

"Right," Tommy says. "And you played basketball with us. We kicked your ass in a way that made me think you were pretending to be bad at it to make me feel good or something? And then there was the whole thing with Eddie's ankle."

"I hate basketball!"

"You brought your own ball!"

"I same-day ordered a basketball so that when I showed up you'd be like, wow, that guy's ready for basketball, what a cool guy!"

"So you're mad that your basketball ruse worked on my dumb ass, and worked so well for six months that I got you Lakers tickets for our anniversary."

Buck's so annoyed that he put it like that. Maybe that's true, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't like basketball! It was a ruse but I didn't hide it after. You watched games with Eddie and I never came along because I don't like basketball."

"You said you wanted us to have our Eddie-Tommy friend time!"

"Why do you make me sound and feel like a five-year-old? Eddie-Tommy friend time? Seriously?"

Tommy folds his hands together like he's in prayer and shuts his eyes. "Okay, listen, I just. I wanted to get the house thing off my chest, alright? Because it's—it's bothered me so much."

Buck could argue about the basketball thing for about another 500 years, except that Tommy has said what he said. "Has it?"

Tommy puts his hands in his lap again, folded politely as he looks at Buck. "I meant what I said. You were so swept away in how new and exciting everything felt, that I felt like you forgot who you were talking to. Like… I'm not a guy who's going to move in with you. I'm a guy who has a house with a home gym and a car lift, and—and the winter was so mild that I put in this little patio space in the backyard. I bought furniture for it. I took this corner of my front lawn, too, and started to plan a pollinator's garden because they sounded really interesting after those three days of bee hell. Evan, I have a house."

"You keep saying that," Buck says. His ears are burning, but he's listening too intently to feel embarrassed about it (much).

"I freaked out, alright? Because I heard: give up your house to live in this downtown loft with a couch that has a faded but GIANT blood and placenta stain on the other side of the cushion, and then the words engaged and married got thrown in there, too? All in the same breath?"

Buck stares flatly, then nods. "Yeah. I get it. Sorry." He clears his throat and grabs his water before Tommy can offer it to him. He takes a sip, looking at Tommy before he nods at the closed door. "Are we done here?"

"And I'm not a gay rights hero," Tommy adds. "You said that, too." Tommy looks away, and looks so miserable. "I'm just a guy, Evan. I've been burned before by younger guys who thought I was everything that their first gay boyfriend should be, and then—and they didn't see who I was. It's always—" Tommy holds out his hands like he's balancing scales. "Not straight enough to fake a life with a woman, not gay enough to have a real life with a man."

Buck hasn't done this in so long that his throat almost aches with it. He sighs, pained and breathless, the word crinkling against the mask: "Tommy." He swallows again and asks, "Did you really think that was me?"

Another long pause. It ends with Tommy saying, "I thought you were too good to be true."

"I'm not, though, I'm—I'm just me," Buck says. "And I did have a lot to figure out, but not about you."

Tommy laughs suddenly. "Really? Because you forgot I was a homeowner and I didn't know you hated basketball. Did you even go to that game?"

Buck coughs. "I gave the tickets to Karen and she took one of her brothers. They're nuts about the Lakers."

"Huh," Tommy says. "Well. I'm not mad about that."

The two of them are quiet until Buck says, "Seems there's a lot of things we don't know about each other."

Tommy glances at him; Buck can see the shape of his smirk beneath the mask, and the very specific way it makes his eyes crinkle. "And just when we thought we knew everything about each other."

"Yeah, I thought that, too, and then you dropped that you were engaged to my first serious girlfriend at our six month anniversary dinner." Buck raises his eyebrows. "Do you land helicopters that smoothly, too?"

"I got you here, didn't I?" Tommy bites back, then catches himself with a laugh. "Okay. Fair point."

It's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy, it's so easy and Buck hasn't had it easy for months. He hasn't had these quips, this back-and-forth, this person who got him until he didn't, who—Buck rubs at his eyes. Tommy made it easy. He made everything easy. Not perfect, not effortless, but easy. Easier.

"So, uh." Buck fusses with the blanket in his lap. "What have you been doing for the past four months? You, uh…"

"Am I seeing anyone?" Buck nods. "I was, yeah. Didn't last that long."

Buck can't help himself: "Neither did we."

"Ouch." Tommy looks back. "And you?"

"Yeah," Buck says. "I liked them but I broke up with them because it just—it wasn't going anywhere."

"And what's wrong with that? Staying in one place? Isn't that what you wanted for us?"

It's not, but Buck can't articulate it, so he says, "Do you think that's the same?"

A beat, and then Tommy says: "No. No, I don't."

"Tommy," Buck says quietly. "How many people do I have to be with before you decide I've figured it out?"

Tommy's eyes widen. "What? I never said that."

"Tell me what you said, then." Buck swallows painfully, that turkey flu kicking his ass harder than he thought. "Tell me what you meant when you said I didn't know what I wanted. Because I told you what I wanted. I told you I was ready for something and all the things we did together, I thought that you believed me. I guess you didn't, so tell me how many bodies it'll take before you believe me."

Tommy doesn't say anything.

"God, and you know what really sucks?" Buck asks. "That we were together long enough to talk about who we'd been with so we could get tested and be safe. We talked about all that, but I never told you how many times I'd had my heart broken and you never told me yours."

"Three," Tommy eventually says. "Shawn, who was like… all of 25. He was all-in, knowing for sure that the first time was the charm, and I was old enough and steady enough to be That Guy. I believed the hype even though I was barely out of the closet. I shouldn't throw stones at Abby's House of Himbos when I set up my own on the other side of town. And then there was Raúl, my Army buddy who came out to his family and immediately moved to LA to get away from them. Everything felt like a fresh start for him, but… not quite for me."

Buck thinks to ask, but Tommy beats him to it. "Do I need to say the third?" Buck shakes his head. "What about you?"

"Abby, and you." Buck looks at Tommy as he says, "It's not just ending things with someone because it doesn't work. It's heart break. Something's gotta break and be mended."

"I don't think I did that part. You've one-upped me there."

Buck wouldn't have believed that 20 minutes ago, but he believes it now.

"So Bobby's been there, watched me since I was Abby's himbo and helped me to grow into the person who wanted that stuff with you. Once he, kinda, told me that if I care about how people see me, then I haven't learned a damn thing," Buck says. "And that is and isn't true, here. I can't live hoping I meet people's expectations of what they think I should be. I want people—I wanted you—to see me as I am. I thought you did but you didn't, and I didn't either because I didn't see how scared you were. I've made my peace with that. We had something really special and made each other feel really good but, in the end, I guess we were saying all the right things to people we didn't know."

Tommy listens, considers, and nods. "Whole lot of past tense, there."

Buck glances at him and doesn't want to look away, but he does. He doesn't meet Tommy's eyes. He's scared, too. He's done enough today: said a lot of things he's been thinking about for four months and said them very calmly and thoughtfully, but this is gonna hurt. It hurt Buck to realize it and it's gonna hurt Tommy to hear it.

"You got what you wanted, right?" Buck asks. "You got to keep your heart, and I don't feel new and excited anymore." Buck inhales deep; it hurts. "I feel like I did before, like I'm short one piece of being whole. Now the ocean I have to search is so much wider and deeper. So thanks for that, I guess."

"Evan—"

"I let you into my family," Buck interrupts sharply. "Because I cared about you and because you fit. I fit because they're mine and that's my family I made, and you fit there right next to me. With us."

"You're absolutely right."

Buck watches him, tries to see behind the sunshine yellow and white mask on his face, but all he sees are his eyes that, like always, make Buck feel too much, like laser beams disintegrating him.

"Were you really that scared?" Buck can't help the way his voice cracks. "You were that scared of me?"

Tommy looks up again, lasers in place. "I was that in love with you." He shakes his head like he did that last night in the kitchen, and looks up like he'll tip the tears back into his eyes. "And those heartbreaks—you'd leave them light-years behind if I let you. You'd leave me light-years behind."

Buck nods, then says, "Could you leave, please." His wet breathing crinkles grossly in the mask. "Thanks for telling me all this, thanks for the closure, but I don't need to see what someone looks like after they've walked away from me."

"You collapsed at a scene three days ago and I was the closest pilot to medevac you here," Tommy says slowly. "You were delirious and told Shreya, Don't tell Tommy I'm sick, he doesn't care anymore."

Tommy clears his throat. "I do care. I never stopped."

Buck sits back in his hospital bed and pulls the blanket up to his neck, the only comfort he's got right now. "If this is a turkey flu dream, I'm gonna be so pissed at you, real you," Buck says.

Tommy laughs quietly, sadly, then hesitates for a moment. "Can I ask you something? Can I ask you the scariest thing I've ever asked anyone in my entire life?"

Buck doesn't move, doesn't breathe. "What is it?" he finally asks.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

Buck, hearing what he's quietly dreamed of hearing for four months, doesn't feel the euphoria he thought he would. He feels something else, though: a strange kind of wonder that someone wants him again. Again. He swallows hard, feeling the pain right in his turkey-flu-ridden throat. Someone knew him. Someone left him. Someone came back—came back for him.

Tommy left. Tommy came back. Tommy wanted him then. Tommy wants him now. Tommy's wanted him all along.           

Buck asks, "Will you invite me to your place more than once every six months?"

Tommy's half-smile is still wide enough for Buck to see behind the mask. It falls, though, back into something serious. "Will you forgive me when I'm not a paragon of queer virtue?"

"Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Tommy raises his eyebrows ever so slightly. "Will you believe me when I tell you I've fucked around and found out enough for a lifetime?"

Buck thinks he smiles a little behind his mask, but it doesn't stay. "Are we gonna break up again?"

"I don't know," Tommy admits. "But maybe next time we can stop each other and hit the brakes. I love romcoms, but maybe we don't do that again: you don't propose fixing a problem with marriage and a baby, and I won't run out the door."

Buck raises his eyebrows, too. "Who said anything about a baby?"

Tommy sputters. "I mean, you were the one raising the stakes before."

Buck laughs. "Right, right."

The quiet stretches out between them. They look at each other and don't look away. The stubborn, proud, cocky side of Buck feels annoyed that this feels like—like he can't get out of this. Like all roads lead back to Tommy, like he doesn't have a choice. Like if he wants to be happy, it's with this person.

A part of him wants to run and throw himself into the hunt again. He wants to thrive in the search for someone who makes him feel that euphoria and fondness and love that he felt with Tommy. He tries to imagine someone else, some vague smoky figure that isn't Tommy's height, Tommy's build, Tommy's arms crossed over his chest and that tilt of his head. The problem is that Buck feels more looking at that furrow and arch of his eyebrows than he's felt for anyone he's met in the past four months, maybe even longer.

Not all roads lead to Tommy—only the ones he wants to take.

"Say it again?" Buck asks.

Tommy nods ever so slightly. "I'm in love with you." He pauses and a smile reaches his eyes. "I love you."

Buck can't help the way his eyes water; neither can Tommy.

"Ask me again," Buck says.

"Will you give me a second chance?"

"Yeah." Buck wonders if his own smile reaches his eyes. He hopes it does. "Yeah. Will you?"

Tommy chokes out a laugh behind his mask. "Yeah, god, of course. Of course. You sure?"

"About you?" Buck asks. "Yeah. I mean, I want to be. Don't make me regret it."

"Don't make me give up my real estate."

"Don't make me go to any sports events."

"Seriously? Not even baseball?"

"God," Buck moans. "The sleepiest one of all."

"Hockey's good."

"You hate the Kings."

Tommy scoffs. "Of course I do. You always hate your local teams—you just hate visiting teams more. Can't let management get comfortable."

Buck attempts to take a deep, exasperated breath, but he forgets that he has the fucking turkey flu. He chokes and starts to cough and wheeze, but Tommy's there again. He freely, lovingly pushes Buck further to the other side of the hospital bed so he can sit and take care of him: water, tissues, hand on his chest to steady him, eyes worried and on him.

"It's not official until you kiss me," Buck says. "I'm not contagious."

"I mean, not with turkey flu," Tommy says. "Your Buckness? That I'm not so sure."

"Don't call me that anymore," Buck says.

Tommy puts his cup of water on the table next to Buck's bed, then shifts so he and Buck are closer, face-to-face, head on looking at each other. "How'd you get even brattier in only four months?"

"How'd you forget I was this bratty?"

"At my age, well, everything's starting to go."

Buck laughs, then coughs and wheezes. "Stop making me laugh."

"How'd you forget I was this funny?"

Buck tilts his head. "I didn't. I didn't forget a thing."

Tommy searches his face, then cups his jaw with one hand. Buck doesn't lean into it, just lets Tommy hold him as he tips Buck's chin up ever so slightly.

Then Tommy kisses his forehead and his birthmark, and wraps his arms around Buck. It's the warmest Buck has felt all winter. It finally feels like spring.

---

read on the ao3

[azen13]

Looking at the items the Starlight Pawnshop has to offer... I'd like to purchase the < Avian Necklace >, please. Because a pretty little songbird deserves only the prettiest chain with which to tie it down.

Paradise Lost, Paradise Found

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Avian Necklace: A silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of a bird mid-flight, imbued with a strange energy strong enough to shackle its wearer in paradise forever.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Description: After the Charmony Festival, Sunday returns to Penacony with the Stellaron Hunters, desperate to be reunited with his lover.

CW: Yandere Themes, Brainwashing, Mind Control, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Intense Distress, Manipulation

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It is a Monday night in Penacony, and all is well in the world.

Sure, your hotel room is cramped. The mattress is lumpy. The view is horrible. But it is real, and that is all that matters to you. After an eternity of dreams so sweet you felt like you were drowning in joy, you would rather be stuck in this dingy hotel room than some luxury VIP suite anyways. It’s comforting in all its imperfections. 

That is, until you hear someone knock on your door.

The sound is rhythmic, three short, quick, evenly spaced knocks. It’s all you truly need to know who stands outside your door. Your heart already knows, beating so fast you feel like you could go into cardiac arrest. 

But then you hear his voice. Smooth and rich like espresso, laced with a subtle sweetness. “Darling,” Sunday whispers quietly, “please, open the door.” It is both a request and a command, though it isn’t infused with Sunday’s usual pacifying power. 

He liked doing this when you realized Ena’s dream was all an illusion; he would give you a chance to submit and  acquiesce to his love and care, but when you inevitably refused, he had no qualms about worming his way into your mind. Once inside, he’d gently smash any shred of resistance you had, before pulling you into his arms and crooning his hymns, praising your holiness. 

Isn’t this dream so blissful? he would ask you quietly, his hands ghosting over your skin, soft as feathers. I can give you anything you want. In Ena’s dream, it was true. Sunday could give you anything you wanted, even your freedom. But you knew it was an artificial imitation of independence; no matter where you traveled in the pseudo-universe, he was always there, always watching you. That was good enough for him: knowing you were safe, his hands cupped around your world like the way one would hold a bird.

The sound of Sunday’s voice breaks you out of your momentary reverie. “My dove, please, I don’t want our reunion to be bitter, but it seems like you aren’t giving me a choice.” You can feel the resonant harmonies in Sunday’s words grow louder, gripping your mind gently, giving you one more chance to open the door through your own free will.

You look around your room for any way out. On the opposite wall is a single window. You’re on the first floor. All you have to do is break through it and find someone. Frantically, you rush over, scrounging around for something to break the glass. You hear a loud sigh. “I wish you could just understand, my love,” Sunday laments. 

The lock clicks.

Instantly, you are pounding and clawing on the glass like a rabid animal. In brief moments of clarity through your haze of desperation, you can feel your shoulder ache from ramming into the glass. Your throat feels raw. Someone is screaming. It’s you.

Sunday’s hands are just as excruciatingly tender as you remember, gliding over your arms and clasping your wrists in a tender but firm embrace. “Shh, it’s okay, my dear,” he whispers quietly. Beneath the insanity that clouds his own eyes, you can glimpse genuine concern in his gilded gaze. “Calm down, shh, yes, relax,” he coos. 

All of the sudden, the world goes soft and blurry; every color in your hotel room, the pallid, washed-out grays and pale, muted blues seem to turn into a psychedelic kaleidoscope, luring you deeper and deeper into a state of tranquility. 

With slow, delicate motions, Sunday lets go of one of your wrists, a placid smile gracing his face for a mere moment. Making sure that you won’t hurt yourself anymore than you already have, he reaches into one of his coat pockets, pulling out a small necklace imbued with the power of the Order. 

“After the Charmony Festival, I was in such a deep state of despair. I thought I had lost everything. My dreams. My power. My home. My sister. My love.” His grasp on your wrist tightens, though you’re so lost in his spell that you can’t even feel the pain. “But now…now I have you again, my dearest,” he whispers hoarsely. Sunday can hardly believe you are real, with how constant misfortune has haunted his life. Time and time again, he has lost everything. Everyone. All his dreams and aspirations have shattered to pieces like stars crashing down to the earth from the heavens. But not you.

“Perhaps my plan was ill-timed,” Sunday muses as he loops the chain of the necklace around your neck. “But for right now, if I can’t give everyone paradise, then at least I can give it to you. And that will be more than enough,” he whispers, taking your appearance in, drinking it in like a man without water for forty days. 

The effects of his tuning are fading, but the power of the necklace is taking root in your mind, warping and twisting it until you understand. Truly magnificent. He can see the clarity and consciousness in your eyes, but he can also see behind it, the compulsion to listen. 

“Now, we must go,” Sunday says, his hands moving to clutch both of yours, pulling you up from where you’re sitting on the floor. “The rest of the Stellaron Hunters are likely getting anxious and ready to leave.” Still, he can’t help but steal one more moment alone. He presses a quick, light kiss to your lips, looking at your splendor one last time.

His sweet, foolish, caged bird.

[moonbaby26]

Title: Blood and Feathers

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairing: Rosinante/Corazon x Fem!Reader x Doflamingo

Warnings: language, non con, dub con, size difference, reader is cheated on (not by the brothers), reader is stalked/abducted, reader is double teamed, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, animal instincts/behaviors, blood, violence, toxic relationships, breeding kink

Synopsis: Set in a modern!AU. You are an avian veterinarian dealing with a recent life upheaval. Years ago, you also had a traumatic experience with creatures mainstream science still denies as even existing. But memories of that night were soon buried, relegated to your dreams alone. Or so you had thought.

A/N: This oneshot was inspired both by @tuquidflamingo‘s gorgeous Harpy!Doffy fanart for Doffytober2024 Day 24:Mythical Here, and @froggiewrites’s terrifyingly sexy Siren!Doffy fic Mating Call Here. I needed more bird!Donquixotes after seeing those works and could not restrain myself. This was originally intended as monster/horror themed for Halloween as well, but I’m way late to the party (as usual 😅).

Fic Masterlist

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“You poor darling. The boys haven’t been very nice to you have they?” You frowned to your newest patient. A female dove, slightly fearful in your grip as you held her gently from behind in a small towel within your hand.

The hallmarks of overbreeding were evident to you in all the missing feathers near the back of her head. 

Some single minded Lotharios within her previous enclosure had plucked her practically raw while doing their overeager business on her from behind no doubt.

“Remember. Men are all the same, sweetheart. They only care about one thing.” You mumbled, not particularly worried of how bitter you still sounded while you felt her chest and keel bone next. That bone’s prominence signaling her being rather underweight to your additional concern. 

Not that you’d been eating much either, or maintaining a healthy mindstate at all. Just like hers, your life had also gone quite to shit recently.

Just two days ago you’d come home early, only to find your boyfriend of the last few years balls deep and moaning within the newest assistant from his law office.

And you’d thought he really was going to have a heart attack when he’d finally seen you standing there.

But his new young lover had only smiled, cool as anything.

“Oops.” She’d said, still on top of your fiancé and almost sweetly staring over her shoulder at you.

Her long fingernails had left trails of raised scratches all over his chest and sides. Which you’d seen so distinctly as he’d sat up in a panic to plea to you.

Of course, there would have been no way he could have hidden that evidence later even if you hadn’t caught them in the act. 

As you’d dragged suitcases out and begun throwing what you could into them, he’d had the gall to swear to you too that it was both his first and last time with her. 

He’d even tried to blame her, as if he’d had no say in it all.

But you’d just taken your engagement ring off and thrown it so hard it’d ricocheted off of the wall and rolled to God knew where.

To whatever void your trust and self confidence had now plummeted into most likely.

Yet the apartment lease had only been in his name. So in just that single afternoon, you’d gone from daydreams of a winter wedding to officially homeless and with mascara running down both sides of your face. All with strangers staring at you on your march of shame back through the parking garage.

You didn’t even tell anyone afterward. Because you’d had no one close enough to you to tell.

You were living out of a hotel room now. Nowhere to land as of yet as you’d still went to your normal veterinary job uptown during the day. And to this volunteer time at the avian rehab center just outside of the city each night. 

The only consistently listening ears for you now were sick and troubled birds. Either domestic seizures from hoarding and animal cruelty cases like this dove, or sometimes just wild raptors and waterfowl that’d had an acute turn of bad luck.

You’d seen it all at one point or another. But every day was different. And yet only more of the same all at once.

Until tonight, when it absolutely wasn’t.

You were here alone. Staying much later than you normally would, because the company of the birds was still better than hearing your neighbors arguing through those thin hotel walls that were now all you had to go back to.

Besides this dove’s occasional cooing, and your own words of continued self pity, you also had a constant rotation of true crime podcasts, murder mysteries, and tales of the supernatural droning on from your phone still on the counter. 

It was very fitting for a rainy, cold night like this one.

And in a bit of a playful holiday segment in between those longer tales, it was then some of those two sentence horror stories.  

The narrator had just read one of your favorites in their best Vincent Price impersonation. 

“The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. 

There was a knock on the door.”

You smirked of course. Your imagination flooding with all that unnamed man’s possible fates and an idea that he may actually deserve them now, before the lights abruptly went out above you.

Both you and the dove had startled with that plunge into darkness. But under the dim glow of the battery backup lights which came on after, around the fire exit signs, you quickly silenced those additional horror teases from your phone.

“Maybe they missed a power bill again.” You’d told the dove softly as you’d returned her to the temporary holding cages. 

Funding was always tight for a non profit like this. People just weren’t as giving when sick vultures and irritable corvids didn’t end up as marketable as sad kittens on the donation commercials.

But, this could also be the universe’s sign for you to give in and go home.

Wherever the hell home was supposed to be now.

You’d pulled your exam gloves inside out, trashing them before washing and drying your hands.

A coat, purse, and umbrella were all you had to gather before walking into that now near pitch black hallway.

There was only the slight squeak of your shoes on the linoleum floor for those few precious seconds of normalcy you’d had left. 

And then came the first metal bang.

Like a knock.

And the next one which followed it. 

Echoing through the darkness before you.

Something heavy and urgent was slamming against the metal door which led to the rear parking lot.

The parking lot that backed up to the woods. Where your car and thereby only way back to the city now was.

Even then, the logic in you still refused to fully slip however. Though your heart did beat far faster in your confusion.

You could hear many birds beginning to rustle in their cages in other rooms, bothered by the new noises as well.

You wanted to comfort them, but you knew they wouldn’t understand.

Did you even understand?

You still had your phone of course. You could call the police and just wait here, locked inside if you were actually that afraid.

But outside of the city limits like this, response time would be awful unless you’d be lucky enough that a random patrol car may be nearby.

You didn’t want some judgmental cop showing up thirty minutes from now, to look at you like you were a complete idiot if you said just being in the dark with strange noises was enough to have you needing rescue.

Your hand was already in your purse though, fingers around the beveled case of your phone as everything went silent again.

And then you heard the door pull open.

That door was an exit only. If another volunteer had forgotten something or come back this late for any other reason, they’d have taken the side path up to the front and unlocked the front door instead just as you had a couple of hours ago.

There was no key to the back door. It was always locked on the outside.

Unless the latch had just been broken off.

Which would explain the banging.

Your heart was moving into your throat by then as you’d sidestepped into the nearest room in the dark.

It was this facility’s single operating room.

And by some grace above you didn’t run into anything. You squatted with your back to the wall as you fumbled to pull your phone fully from your purse.

You couldn’t remember if the emergency dispatch in this area was setup to accept text messages like they could in the city.

If you spoke into this silence to call someone, it’d be the equivalent to screaming though.

Your hands were shaking as you typed instead.

And it was additionally cruel really.

Because your mind hadn’t yet overwritten years worth of habit, even as much as he’d hurt you.

You found yourself texting your ex.

<break in. call police. the rehab. help>

Your fingers moved faster than you thought you’d ever commanded them to then. You’d hit send and watched as that message changed to delivered.

And then…

You heard that stupid trill of his phone from the hallway. 

That custom alert you’d heard far too many times to count as his phone had always gone off at all hours from important clients in the duration you’d been together.

Your brain stuttered.

And you heard a female’s laugh.

“Oh, that is embarrassing…” Said the somehow familiar female voice. It was equal parts amusement and mockery now. “She’s still here alright.”

And then a man whose voice you did not recognize, called your name outright before you could think any further. “Please, (Y/N)…there’s no reason to make this harder than it has to be. Please just come out. We’re not going to hurt you.”

But the woman quickly disagreed with him. “No. He said we could do this however we needed to. We’d still be outside in the rain if it was all up to you.”

“Be silent. I’m trying to listen.” The man retorted, yet with his voice lowering to match her own irritation.

“Hmm…no. Not needed. I already smell her.” Came her even sharper response after just another moment. 

And you heard something clicking on the tile at that, faster than you could believe as it ran closer.

“Monet!” The male voice was right behind it though, dropping into a range more akin to a snarl before a shadow came bursting through that open operating room door towards you.

You knew her name.

In the emergency lighting you only had a moment to see a glimpse of her once beautiful face too, contorted into a ferocity more akin to a rabid animal before she lunged down to meet you at your still crouched position. 

Her slender hand had closed around your airway as if it were all second nature.

Fingernails too sharp to be real dug in as she forced your back onto the ground.

You were choking. And staring up into the now wild eyes of your ex-fiancé’s young assistant.

Monet.

The girl he’d fucked right in front of you just two days ago.

But then she was gone. Swatted away as if she were nothing in one audible hit.

Your throat was still stinging, scratched but not wholly cut as you tried to sit up in a renewed rush of adrenaline.

“Just take her car and go goddammit! You’re going to tear this place apart if you can’t control yourself! This is exactly why I wanted you to wait outside!” That male voice now had a clear source as well. He stood easily over the both of you. Still with his hand that had struck her splayed out like a claw.

What had to be light blond hair hung messily in his angry eyes as he took your purse and threw it at her.

“Take her car back to her hotel! Keep her phone, and make sure she didn’t call anyone!”

It was like he was scolding a child now, as if she had already been told a thousand times how this all should be.

But she was panting, smiling at him even as she did.

“I just want a taste…for all of our trouble.” She breathed.

And he stepped further between the two of you.

“I said no.”

She hissed through her teeth, but you saw him straighten up in response. His lean body seeming to tighten even more in the dark.

“Go!” And that order was truly a snarl from him that time.

Her eyes widened and she clawed the floor, briefly on all fours before scurrying back up. 

You could not see her feet clearly in the shadows, but you heard them.

That same clicking sound that had come from the hall before she’d run in.

Like talons moving across the ground.

You didn’t realize how much you were still shaking either before that man’s rock solid grip had grabbed you next.

You were pulled up by your arm.

And Monet was already gone with your purse, meaning she had your keys and phone as well.

She’d had your ex’s phone too.

Was he even alive any longer?

A sound of desperation left you as this tall man forced you down the hall and to that exit door they’d first broken in through.

You’d known it all had to be purposeful then. 

When the power had been cut, the two outdoor security cameras would have gone down as well.

No one would ever see him dragging you out of this door and into the rainy night.

They’d likely waste days interviewing people at the hotel instead once Monet returned your car there.

People you’d never even made eye contact with long enough for them to remember your face would just shrug and say they hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

No one would ever find your body.

“Walk.” His voice was still harsh as he’d hurried you outside, across the parking lot, and immediately down a muddied path into the woods.

It wasn’t clear which direction he’d even taken you in after just a few minutes.

In the dark, the trails all looked the same. And you could only watch as his clothes hung on him, dripping in the light rain.

The forest had gone silent save for that rain and the two of you. As all animals often quieted when an apex predator moved through.

He was oddly barefoot too, striding across the wet and fallen leaves. Just in pants and a t-shirt which now stuck across his broad chest.

“You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” He asked suddenly.

And you were still floundering mentally, trying to keep up with his long legs in the darkness.

“My real name is Rosinante.” He said in lack of any answer from you though. “We’ve met before.” And his large hand squeezed your arm tighter. 

He sounded like his frustration was only growing. His next words were especially accusatory. “If I’d had any idea you were still this close to the mountains…why didn’t you leave?”

His grip hurt, and you were stumbling often now, just trying to keep up.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you want.” You stammered, sounding so pathetic that it easily could have been a stranger’s voice in your ears then.

“I didn’t want him to find you!” He shot back. And at last his relentless pace began to slow. “I thought you moved away! Why the hell would you come back here!?”

And only then was something finally beginning to click within your memories. 

Because it was that desperation in his voice. 

Even if that tone was so much deeper now than the boy’s it reminded you of.

“…Cora?” You asked, your eyes wide while you stared up at this frightening man.

But he looked like something had just broken within him as you’d called him that. He’d stopped walking entirely, and you saw the true pain which crossed his face.

A lean, handsome face, with messy blond hair and rainwater dripping down in a way that could have easily been mistaken for tears.

Tears just like the young blond you’d found crying alone in the forest one summer.

The teen who’d said he didn’t know what to do any longer. And that he’d missed his parents so much and he just couldn’t keep pretending.

You’d thought he was a runaway. But he’d seemed so close to your own age, you hadn’t ratted him out to your aunt and cousins you’d been staying with in the mountain cabin that summer.

You’d snuck him food instead, and for those few months that summer break, you had hiked out to visit him every day at your and his secret rendezvous spot.

Eventually he’d said you could call him Corazon, or Cora for short. It meant “heart” in Spanish. The native language from wherever he had really fled from. And a nickname his late mother had given him.

Her little heart.

But he had a big one. Because he was so kind to you. Something you hadn’t been used to. And you’d both loved exploring and talking together for hours on end.

He’d even taught you a special whistle and song he’d said had also come from his mother and original home.

And so often at night you would hear that sound as you’d snuck from your bedroom to see him over and over again.

He’d known you loved birds by then. That you had dreams of going to school to learn more to help as many of them as you could someday.

But when you’d follow that special sound to find him at night, he’d also point right to where any owl or other raptor you’d missed during the day was hiding that he had found. 

Just so that you could see them too.

But near the end of that summer, you’d told him you’d have to be going back to the city soon. School would be starting again. You hadn’t finished high school yet. But you’d definitely come back next summer before going to college. You’d promised him that.

He’d seemed so sad regardless though, and that had hurt you too.

He’d even disappeared for a few days. You had gotten worried.

But on one of those last nights, you’d heard that special sound again.

So of course you had rushed to it.

But Corazon hadn’t been there.

A laugh had come from above you instead in the darkness.

One you could never forget just before you’d thought part of a tree had somehow fallen down on you.

Because your breath had been gone, a heavy weight impacting your chest with a crack of your ribs.

You couldn’t even scream. The splayed claws that had first struck your chest, had then spread for thin legs to straddle you as your back had hit the dirt.

And then it had bitten you.

Straight through your shirt and over the top of your shoulder. 

Your arms had come up uselessly as those fangs had sunken in.

Yet one of your hands had raked against thick, soft feathers, while the other had caught into spiked blond hair.

Utterly nonsensical in those contrasting parts between human and animal as its wings had encircled you.

But the creature had groaned at your every touch. With its long tongue then lapping at your blood running from the flesh it had broken.   

All while bony hips in torn capris pants had begun to move purposefully against your pajamas.

You hadn’t known what to do. 

You’d just remembered feeling warm.

But so afraid.

And confused.

And then a furious screech like no bird you had ever heard, came diving down like retribution from the sky. 

Loud enough that your attacker had had to look upward. His young face framed in your blood within the moonlight while he’d grinned to the heavens.

He’d been terrifying.

He’d also been beautiful.

But the two monsters had collided. Wings had scraped the ground, flapping violently while talons had tangled, striking each other’s bare torsos over and over as they’d rolled away from you.

The sounds had been fully inhuman, hissing and screaming with splatters of their blood then mixing with yours already on the ground.

Yet you’d been frozen amongst that raw violence.

“Go!” The one with the solid black wings had called out hoarsely though. While it’d tried to even briefly pin down the other one that had attacked you. That slightly larger creature whose wings had been both a dark pink and black.

The one that had still had pieces of your skin within his scowling maw.

“Please! Go and never come back!” The finality and heartbreak in that plea from your strange protector had also been seared into your memories that night.

The same voice that was now years older, with eyes that much sadder as Corazon still stared down at you in the present day.

“It is you.” You spoke in quiet shock. “You’re okay.”

“Why would you come back!?” He demanded again though, regardless of your sudden realization. “He saw your face in all those damned pictures Monet brought to him! He’s been trying to get leverage on everyone from the district attorney’s office all year. Information about their spouses, their kids, and…”

He sneered. His teeth had grit together. And you’d never seen that expression on Corazon.

He was so angry with you.

“You were really going to marry that spineless piece of shit from the D.A.’s office!? He sold you out in a heartbeat! Where you worked, where you were staying…everything. Doffy didn’t even have to touch him! He works for him now!”

Doffy.

His brother Doflamingo?

Corazon had told you long before the attack back then that he’d had an older brother.

The one he had really been running from when you’d first met.

But Doflamingo had caught up to you both in the end.

Even if you hadn’t fully understood it then.

Because you hadn’t known what Corazon truly was.

“I did move away, Cora. I got sent to freaking therapy because my family thought I was acting out for attention!” You blurted defensively.

They’d blamed you for sneaking out. Everyone had told you over and over that it’d only been a rabid bobcat, or a coyote, something like that that had gotten a hold of you that night.

The rabies shots that followed had been an awful regimen. But the shouts that you were just a delusional teenager making up stories about boys with bird wings had been even worse.

It’d been like being branded somehow. 

A permanent outcast.

And truly, you had been marked. The bite scars on your shoulder were still why you’d never wear a tank top or a swimsuit in public.

Yes, right after veterinary school you’d settled for the first man who hadn’t utterly despised you. Your standards had been that low.

But he’d still wanted to chase money and status, and to take his law degree back to the most populated part of the region to accomplish that.

So it was either break up or follow him back towards this place you’d once run from.

Yet how could you know any of this would ever actually find you again? That had been years ago.

Why would they even still remember you?

“You really don’t get it. Do you?” Corazon answered to that disbelief still on your face. “I swore to Doffy that if he let you go that night, I’d never run from him again. That I’d submit and serve him just the way he’s always expected the whole world to.” But he made another sound of disgust, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t stop him again. There’s nothing else he wants that he doesn’t already have this time.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I have everything I want.”

Your eyes had still been trained on Corazon, so you didn’t miss the way he immediately bristled at the new voice.

Cora stood at his full height then too, looking up to the branches above with hatred etched on his face.

And the monster laughed in response.

Just like that night as your insides twisted for the sound.

But also like Cora’s voice, that laugh was deeper now too.

Even more menacing.

They had both grown up. 

And now you were all together again.

You moved behind Corazon instinctively as Doflamingo leapt down from the branches overhead.

He landed, letting those massive wings spread as he straightened up.

It was a purposeful display of power and size you were sure while he grinned wide. 

The whites of his fangs reflected the remaining moonlight almost as much as that single glowing red eye of his. The other eye had been scarred, taken from him long ago.

“Do you know how rare it is for me to come play in the mud with the rest of you any longer?” Doflamingo taunted, crouching a little then to better see you around Corazon’s tall frame. 

Yet just like back then, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on that creature either. It was all tan skin, stretched tight over bones and muscle as you could see his every breath. 

He was only in dark pants that looked as if they were once the bottom of an expensive, tailored suit.

The mockery of the perfect male form really. Almost human in his silhouette, save for those grand wings where arms should have been, the tail feathers which ran out from the small of his back, and the thinner, scaled over legs coming from the bottom of his pants cuffs. With splayed feet ending in razor sharp talons which now sank into the wet ground beneath him.

His weight shifted, as if he didn’t much like that feel of the dirt either. “I’d prefer meeting in my penthouse on East 22nd these days.” Doflamingo taunted as proof of that observation. “But…I thought this reunion might get a bit messy. And we did just have new carpets put in.”

“I told you I’d bring her to the lakehouse though just as you’d asked. Why are you out here already!?” Corazon barked abruptly anyway, yet you could hear that edge of renewed fear already beginning in his voice.

Doflamingo’s head tilted slightly, that amusement only growing in response. “Well, I was feeling nostalgic. How long has it been, Rosi? Since you and I really got to catch prey together?”

“We’re not doing anything like that!” Cora growled immediately.

“Feh. Quit pretending, little brother. And quit hiding who you really are.” He scolded Corazon outright that time. “This is what you want too, and we both know it. You wanted it that night as well. I was only trying to show you where to start.”

“You were going to kill her!” Cora breathed out. His hands had tightened into fists.

“Not necessarily,” Doflamingo still corrected, condescending as anything. “Actually, I doubt I would have. Don’t you remember why?” And an even deeper cruelty began to seep out with those words.

Something Corazon apparently understood that you did not.

“Shut up!” 

“Oh, stop it. We were young, yes. But not in nature’s eyes. She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-“

“I said shut up!”

And Doflamingo laughed again. “You should have been guarding her better then. Instead of running away to hide just because she was ready that night. She came right to me after all…”

“Because you tricked her!”

“You taught her our call…why wouldn’t I use it?”

The special sound.

And Doflamingo did it suddenly then.

His expression changed.

You could mimic it, but not the way they did. It came up from deep within their chests. Like a music note in its pleasantness to you.

You’d ran from your bed many a summer night to find Cora making that sound for you deep within the woods.

And you’d never really wondered why no one else in the cabin had seemed to notice or wake like you did.

Like this song was only meant for you.

It made your body feel warm again. It made you want to follow.

“Stop it!” Cora’s anger snapped you from your daze.

And only then did you realize you had begun to walk towards his brother.

Doflamingo frowned as Corazon had pushed you back behind him once more.

“You are the shining beacon of utter futility, Rosinante. As always.” He tutted, pausing only a moment longer as he readjusted his rain dampened feathers with some frustration.

The weather had changed to more of a hanging mist now. And you knew it was still cold out here. But you didn’t feel it much anymore.

You were still trying to process what Doflamingo had tried to say. 

She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-

Had they been fighting over you because…

“Come on, Rosi. I’ve been more than fair here. Stop stalling and change already.” Doflamingo warned a bit more impatiently then, pulling those pink and black wings back closer towards his bare torso.

As if he was just now noticing the cold himself.

“But why does it have to be her!? You could have anyone…just…pick someone else, Doffy!” 

And even as a grown man now, you could still hear so much of that boy within Corazon.

Doflamingo evidently heard it too. “Quit whining!” Was what he snapped back. “I’m tired of seeing you mope around! Gutless and useless…this isn’t solely for me. Over and over you tell me how selfish I am. How cruel I am. And yet I put something desirable out for you, practically force feed it to you, and still you complain!”

“Because she has a right to choose her own mate!”

“What? Like that coward she was already living with? You’d let a rodent like him usurp what’s yours!?”

“She’s NOT property! She…she’s-”

“She’s tired of listening to this drivel.” Doflamingo sneered.

And it was all begun there in an instant.

In one lunge and kick, the elder brother had cast his physical lesser decisively to the side.

Your shield was gone.

And you were slammed against the then splintering bark of a tree as that wet maw opened right against your face.

The pain of the hit had made your body try to gasp. But it was as if Doflamingo had known that was exactly what you would do, with his tongue ready to make that his invitation as he forced his way in.

That tongue was warm and long as his wings closed around you.

You were trapped against the tree.

With the sheer heat of his body making you hypersensitive for every place he now pressed himself against you.

This was real.

This was going to happen this time.

And you tasted something metallic on his tongue aa well. A mix of blood and earthiness, warm and purposeful as his fangs bumped against your own far duller teeth.

He had made sure your mouth stayed open long enough as you felt something heavier than his spit slide into it.

“Swallow.” Doflamingo whispered, with his wet lips then still against yours while you felt that odd mixture hit the back of your throat.

You knew exactly what that was.

And what it meant to accept it.

Corazon called your name from somewhere so close as he’d stood again. But there was nothing else he could do.

You didn’t want Cora to be hurt either though. You didn’t want to ever have to leave him alone with his brother again.

But this was the price of staying.

And you were finally willing to make that deal.

Even if it now pleased the devil himself.

Doflamingo did growl in satisfaction too, his face briefly nuzzling down against yours once you had breathed in again, signaling your throat was clear.

He’d just fed you for the very first time.

A familial intimacy reserved only for those most dear.

“Change and hold her for me, Rosi.” Came the command to his brother which followed.

But you couldn’t look away from him. 

Doflamingo had straightened his back again. That red eye gleaming down at you.

“My little Corazon has missed you for so long…but I think he still needs convincing to let that out. So let’s help him. Together. You do want to help him…don’t you, my sweet?” And Doflamingo’s voice was taking on a bit of that special resonance again.

As he stepped back away from the tree, you did follow without being stopped this time. His soft wings grazed your sides. 

It felt so very good.

You wanted to bury yourself within the affection of those wings and never rise to see the light again.

But Doflamingo lowered them as he led you further.

Enough that you could now fully see Corazon again.

Corazon with that stricken look of devastation, as if he were watching your death in slow motion right before him. With his eyes even damper now than the weather could possibly be blamed for.

That stab of pain within you for your realization of what he was actually enduring carried even through Doflamingo’s spell on you then.

Your lip quivered. “It’s alright, Cora…” You pleaded softly. “Just do as he says…I’m okay.”

And Doflamingo chuckled.

The heartbreak between the two of you only seemed to fuel him further.

“See? She already forgives you. So show her what you really are. Let’s finish this.” Doflamingo ordered his brother even more darkly.

You both understood the threat behind those words if either of you should dare disobey him. 

Cora’s spirit was visibly crumbling.

Which made you feel all the more desperate to touch him, to comfort him.

You had missed him so much too, almost having started to believe that that part of your life really had been some sort of self induced hallucination over the years.

That you hadn’t experienced your very first feelings of romantic love with some blond, teen runaway in the woods one summer.

That you actually were just crazy.

“It’s okay.” You reiterated to him. And Doflamingo allowed you to reach for Cora.

The younger brother did take your outstretched hand for a moment too. He squeezed it tightly in his larger one as his eyes offered you a last look of misery.

But that grip was already changing. 

He had seemingly accepted your choice.

Corazon’s pale skin began to darken along his arms. The shirt he wore which had already been badly torn from Doflamingo’s earlier kick, he now used his other hand to rip off completely.

That fabric was discarded like trash as he then stood before you in only pants, the same as his brother.

And the prior lack of shoes made all the sense in the world as you saw the skin of his feet scaling over and those talons forming against the ground as well.

But the thing that captured your attention the most were the feathers as they began to bud. Piercing through the then fully darkened skin of his arms one by one as cartilage loudly popped and bones shifted.

Corazon’s arms elongated in time with his legs, that wingspan taking shape as he finally let go of your hand to spread those emerging flight feathers before they could touch the ground.

They were all solid black, yet with a rich shine as each moved into its place. His new tail fanned out behind him as well, hanging over the back top of his pants.

He was gorgeous, like a god even. 

But with glowing red eyes, fangs, and all as you noticed the submissive way he still kept his head down regardless once the transformation was complete.

Like his brother too, Corazon’s bare torso which remained, was all sinew and purpose. Every muscle so clearly defined as he breathed in deeply in his anxiety for your judgment.

But he was no monster to you now.

He was a miracle of nature.

“I like the real you.” You told him gently.

And you saw that true surprise flicker through Corazon’s eyes.

Yet Doflamingo’s impatience had to interrupt. 

With his equally long bird’s legs, the remaining distance was crossed in a single stride by him. Doflamingo pushed your smaller body roughly against his younger brother’s.

“Now, is everyone comfortable here?” Doflamingo grinned once more as Corazon caught you instinctively against his wings.

Both of them had to keep their legs bent, squatted really just to keep from towering over you in their true forms.

But neither seemed to mind the inherent size difference either.

By the predatory gleam in Doflamingo’s eye, he surely didn’t.

And before you could fully acclimate, your back was now against Corazon’s abdomen while Doflamingo pinned you from the front.

You were caught between them as wings flared and you heard Cora’s fangs hitting together above your head as he snapped at his brother in reflex, not wanting him this close.

“Hush.” Doflamingo’s lack of any real anger in response this time only highlighted the implied power difference which still remained between them. “I’ll put you back to the ground in an instant if you wish.” He reminded.

Yet it was all overwhelming to you already. Just the combination of their body heats and scents mixing together even before you felt that first movement of Doflamingo’s hips against yours.

“Put those dextrous little fingers to good use, sweet girl.” He ordered then, shifting his hips again to try and rub the waistband of his pants against your hand. “The stronger male always gets first rights of course.”

And you felt Corazon’s body tense with disgust. As if he was going to try and fight for your sake anyway.

Which you still couldn’t allow.

Because you knew he wouldn’t give up until Doflamingo had made him into a bloody pulp.

Corazon still cared for you that much.

Just as you cared for him enough to prevent that fate. 

“It’s alright. I do want this.” You said as loud as the brief rise of your own bravery would allow.

Corazon took a harsh breath.

But Doflamingo just pushed what was now an obvious bulge harder against your hand in response.

“Smart little thing.” He taunted as your fingers first made it to the button of his pants.

It was all you could do to keep your hands from trembling though as you undid that button and lowered the zipper to free what was growing for you beneath.

You didn’t know what to fully expect of course when dealing with someone that was neither fully man or beast.

Yet your intuition told you not to hesitate. That hesitation would only risk his violence returning. Doflamingo wanted you to touch him immediately as your fingers ran down that muscular V shape which dipped from his navel to his pubic region.

He wore no underwear. But there wasn’t any coarse hair there either to protect him. Just the slightest bit of downy underlayer as the pads of your fingertips found and massaged through it.

It was more wispy fluff than actual feather, soft as anything you’d ever felt as he leaned his head back in clear pleasure.

Of course, you couldn’t avoid the thick base which emerged from that softness either.

Further hardening so quickly as it kept rising up once freed.

His long cock bumped against your stomach in no time, thick and twitching once already.

It looked familiar enough, save for the damn size of it that you didn’t know how the hell you wouldn’t be injured by.

“Everything off. Now.” Doflamingo growled abruptly though. Foreplay not seeming to be a priority for him in this moment as you were then ordered to disrobe.

And Corazon had gone silent now. 

You could still feel the tension of Cora against your back before you began to undress.

Your own humiliation certainly didn’t matter to you by this point though. That would be the least of your problems as pieces of your clothing hit the wet ground one after another.

Coat, shoes, shirt, pants, and underwear were all quickly put out of the way. Until it was just you and all that you were in the cold night air.

“Don’t cover her. I want to see it all.” Doflamingo warned his brother immediately though as Corazon’s wings had tried to shift against you. 

And the little bit of room that Doflamingo had allowed you in order to undress was swiftly taken back as he now pressed you skin to skin as soon as he could.

“Yes…this is what we should have done years ago. If my little brother hadn’t been such a prude with a stick up his ass.”

Corazon growled lowly to that. 

But notably, he made no move to stop his brother this time as Doflamingo kept rubbing his cock against your skin. The head of it had begun to weep. Yet Doflamingo’s gaze had now focused onto that prominent scar on your shoulder.

The one his own fangs had previously given you.

“Did Rosi ever tell you that our kind can’t procreate on their own?” Doflamingo questioned teasingly then, seemingly at random as his tongue ran out over that scar, almost with a reverence while he licked your shoulder until it glistened with his saliva. “You see…if you breed two winged parents together, all they’ll have is miscarriages. But one winged parent and a human…”

“Doffy.” Corazon warned with his own wings still staying protectively close. “That doesn’t matter right now. Just don’t hurt her.”

“It’ll matter eventually.” Doflamingo contested with a lustful smirk.

And your knees were feeling weaker as the boys did this routine again. Falling into that lopsided codependency they had for one another, bickering even with you pressed right between them.

It was a toxic bond they shared and were so determined to now add you to.

Just like Doflamingo had first tried to back then.

But even he had gained some maturity in the time between. Evidenced by the way he first teased the head of himself at your already surprisingly wet entrance instead of just plunging straight inside.

Whether that wetness was your body’s attempt at self preservation or your own willful desire, you weren’t yet sure.

But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. That was clear as he finally began to slowly push his way in.

And when you made that first sound of pain, stretching too much almost immediately, Doflamingo actually paused.

The feathers of his wings ruffled. Somehow the brothers were now tolerating each other enough to not react when their wings bumped one another either.

Yet Corazon’s chest hummed against your back as you felt him bend to put his lips against your neck, near your ear in response to your pain.

“Relax…I’m here.” He promised, even then still trying to protect you.

And you exhaled, feeling that inner warmth once more. Corazon was using that special tone again, resonating through you as you rested your head back against him.

Cora was soothing you as his brother began to push again.

Your were fully walled in too. Corazon’s chest to your back, against him with your thighs spread for his brother. And Doflamingo in front, taking that offering, his legs bent enough for your hips to line up as he slid in deeper and deeper.

And both their wings were to your sides. They were holding you up together as Doflamingo at last bottomed out against your cervix.

You felt like he could have split you in two if he had wanted to.

But Cora’s song just continued, calming and satisfying as you stared up at Doflamingo while he let out a surprising whine with you clenched so tightly around his extraordinary cock.

“Oh…oh, fuck she feels so good.” Doflamingo breathed next. “Keep her calm…I have to move. Keep her just like this.” He was still instructing Corazon even as his sharp hips began to slowly, ever so slowly, slide back and then forward again. The skin of his cock was dragging against your insides.

And you shuddered. Everything felt like more than you could possibly take. 

But Doflamingo’s initial whine soon became moans. He was falling apart even faster than you as his wings closed tighter around you and his movements increased.

His feathers kept shifting, his pupil was dilating.

Yet as he almost grimaced in what appeared to be an abrupt brush with overstimulation, you had your very first inkling that they did not get to use these true forms often.

This was a rare intimacy. 

Maybe even completely unique for them.

The opportunity to be with a partner in their actual bodies. With all the heightened senses and raw feelings that must entail.

You were barely even a participant, and yet you were overwhelming Doflamingo as he slouched forward with his hips still pumping.

His chin was resting on one of your shoulders then, while Corazon’s was resting on your other from the opposite direction.

“I can’t even…hell, I can’t…” Doflamingo nearly laughed in disbelief.

And you felt him tremble all over as he thrust briefly harder, much rougher then as you cried out a little. But only for three or four more deep hits before his hips stilled abruptly.

The heat inside was immediate, spilling out into you as Doflamingo held himself in as close to the hilt as he could be.

But he was too big to be flush against you, just doing his best as he buried his face beside yours and you already felt his excess seed running out down your thighs to drip onto the ground.

The forest was so quiet again. Save for Doflamingo’s uneven breaths.

“Dammit…” He cursed quietly, sounding an odd mix of both placated and highly disappointed. “I need to try again. That wasn’t enough.”

But you were still aching, regardless of Doflamingo already softening within you from what he perceived as a premature release.

“No. You already came. It counts.” Corazon’s voice returned then and there however. His wings were trying to push Doflamingo’s further away.

And those wingtips were far more prehensile than a normal bird’s once Cora decided to just pull you away from his brother instead by your waist not long after. 

It made a lewd sound when Doflamingo’s wet cock slid out of you with that sudden increase in distance. Then hanging soft in a mess of both your fluids between his legs.

He glowered at Corazon as your warmth was removed from his body once more. 

And you feared they would now fight again.

Doflamingo did briefly bare his fangs. 

But Cora had turned you to face only him then as he moved his wings to push against the side of his own pants next.

You weren’t even done dripping from his brother yet. But you saw the full desire now in Corazon’s eyes.

He’d had to watch everything. 

And he had needs too.

Ones you were sure he had been too afraid to ever tell you up until tonight.

“Here.” You reached out, helping Cora as you tugged at his pants to slip them the rest of the way off of his hips.

Fair was fair.

What you did for one brother, you knew you had to do for the other.

Even if Doflamingo was now finding the concept of waiting for his second turn much more difficult than he’d originally envisioned. 

Corazon was wearing boxers. Ones that already looked a bit too tight for him just as you felt Doflamingo step back behind you.

Cora clearly bristled, not appreciating that. But you did your best to deescalate them again.

They had their own hierarchy and rules as all flocks did you were sure.

Doflamingo was the leader of them all without question. But his own neediness and vulnerabilities were far more apparent to you now.

It was a bold risk, and you didn’t move too quickly. But you did reach behind you then to massage your hand along Doflamingo’s hip and thigh. Acknowledging him at your back, and rewarding even his few moments of patience with physical touch.

Maybe that affection had surprised him.

He’d stilled again either way, and that was all the time that Corazon had needed to slide his own underwear down enough to uncover himself.

Your face felt flushed at the sight. 

Because Cora was already rock hard. Perhaps not the full length of his brother, but no less intimidating for you.

With Doflamingo still right there however, Cora didn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity.

You gasped as Corazon pressed himself right into the wetness his brother had already made within you.

Your insides stretched and filled tight as anything all over again as Cora breathed your name and began immediately rocking his hips.

Doflamingo was then growling behind you in jealous response, so your hand had to move back between his legs to stimulate him too. 

You were fondling the older brother’s still softened shaft as he twitched it wantingly in your palm.

While the younger brother quickly fell into a deep rhythm inside of you, pumping your bodies together as nature had always intended.

It didn’t even feel wrong.

Because they both needed you.

And you needed them.

Or you would now.

And as Corazon scraped inside you just right, steady and sure, your orgasm was quickly building even while Doflamingo began to stiffen again within your hand.

You just stroked him harder in rhythm to his brother’s thrusts.

You could see the future already. 

There would be babies.

Multiple babies.

One mother, two different fathers. 

Nature was like that sometimes. Especially with a rare species that needed all the help it could get.

It’d just be easier to share the resources. To have two strong mates protecting you instead of only one.

Doflamingo was already getting ready to cum again too. You could hear it in his panting as he fucked your hand so roughly then.

But it was the combination of Cora’s steady pumping and Doflamingo’s desperate movements that finally sent you over the edge.

You felt your channel spasm around Cora, who repaid that pleasure immediately with a hard shudder as he released his own seed in powerful shots to mix with what you’d already received from his brother.

Corazon did get it all in, just barely though before those pink wings were grabbing you backward abruptly. 

Yet again you were pulled off of a wet cock that had just finished as Doflamingo slid himself right back into your now fully swollen folds from behind.

His wings pushed you, then making you bend forward at the waist so he could fully mount you from behind this time. You didn’t even have the chance to recover from the orgasm you’d just had before Doflamingo was pounding you so hard against your ass.

You were panting too, trembling for the contrast of his soft wings holding you up on the outside while he utterly wrecked you on the inside.

“Come on…I need you to cum on me too…I’m not stopping this until you do.” Doflamingo threatened you. Evidently not at all missing your visible orgasm had with Corazon inside you moments prior.

Yes, everything was always going to be this way too you were sure. Doflamingo would have to have the final word, the final touch. He might share only with his brother. But everything still had to start and end with him.

He was the dominant male of this territory.

“Doflamingo…” You tried his name in some very minor bid for mercy. You couldn’t think straight enough to will another orgasm back out so soon.

But you had to.

You glanced back up towards Corazon, who still seemed a bit dazed from his own release.

But his eyes did meet yours, even as his brother now fucked you raw from only footsteps away.

Yet, it wasn’t the full sadness from earlier in Cora’s stare any longer. You saw real lust for you still so heavy in those red eyes then. That look which said he would also love to do this to you if you’d only ask him for it.

Corazon would do anything you wanted him to going forward.

And that thought was enough to bring the coil of warmth into your stomach again. 

You were going to be fine. You would survive.

You’d never have to sit in a room alone again either and worry about who or what future awaited you on the other side.

Because your monsters were already here. And they had chosen you.

You moaned loudly. Both of these men in your mind, together again while that pleasure sent your body into ecstasy one more time.

You came with that cry for Doflamingo as he orgasmed gladly in return to flood your poor channel yet again with his seed. 

Your abused cunt was dripping and your body shaking before Doflamingo pulled you fully back against his chest, wrapping his warm wings around you protectively.

His voice was a bit uneven, matching his rough breathing now. “Let’s go home then. All three of us. Tonight and forever.”

And Corazon smiled slightly at last to that rare sentiment. A remarkable expression in its own right. 

Because maybe Cora was finally realizing as you had that the worst was not truly the worst.

Doflamingo wasn’t going to let anything happen to you now.

This deal had been made and the ink was already dry.

Cora used his feathers to awkwardly pull up his underwear and pants before he idly began collecting your clothing for you soon after.

“You’re going to need bigger beds then, Doffy. Both at the lakehouse and the penthouse.” Corazon said quietly as he looked back to the two of you who were still recovering.

Doflamingo smirked, not disagreeing this time. “That’d be much easier than arguing whose bed she’ll get in each night, wouldn’t it?”

You’d lay with them both of course.

But Doflamingo nipped your ear for good measure too as his feathers rubbed more possessively across your abdomen.

“Yes. We’ll have quite a nest going on soon enough.” He grinned wide in anticipation of this truth. “Little ones never like to sleep alone either after all.”

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! ❤️🎃

A/N: The two sentence horror story quoted in the beginning is “Knock” by Fredric Brown.

[iiotic]

༻༉What letters?

(Human) Alastor x Fem!reader - (2/2)

TW - swearing, mentions of death.

How could you look at him the same when he had left you heartbroken like that?

How could you forgive him for everything he'd done?

How could you act like everything was fine when it wasn't?

You looked up at the tall creature before you with fear in your eyes. None of you said anything. His red eyes staring at you, almost like you were his prey and he was your predator. He was smiling. Why the hell was he always smiling like nothing has ever happen?

- Why didn't you respond to any of my letters? - The fear in your eyes slowly turning into anger and sorrow. - You promised me you'd write back to me. Then tell me why didn't i receive anything?

His eyes narrowed and his smile grew bigger. - What letters? - His voice sounding like an old radio. The static was ringing in yours ears, causing you a headache. - I never received any of your letters, dear.

- Stop lying to me, Alastor. - You quickly interrupted his sentence. - I wrote to you everyday, hoping for a response from you. Tell me, why didn't you fulfil our promise?

- I would-- He was interrupted once again. This time by the owner of the hotel. She walked up to you two with an excited face, screaming your name.

She slowed down as she saw who you were talking to. Her excited smile slowly turned into an more nervous one.

- I see you two already met each other. - Charlie said focusing more on Alastor, hoping that he didn't do anything stupid. - In case that he didn't introduce himself his name is Alastor. But I'm sure you've already heard of him. I just came her to say that your room is ready.

You thanked Charlie as you were truly grateful for everything she already has done for you. Without her you would probably be homeless, just waiting to get killed in the next extermination. Soon enough Charlie completely ignored Alastor, dragging you along to introduce to you everyone in the hotel.

- So that was Niffty! We're 80% sure she's harmless. And this is the bar and the bartender - She said pointing on an avian cat demon, absolutely screaming with excitement. But can you really blame her? You were her second true guest!

The demon behind the bar just looked at you for a second turning back around to whatever he was doing.

- Oh! Vaggie here!! - She said waving at a girl with long white hair with a jagged, moth-like shape to the cut, with gray-lavender stripes at the ends. Charlie quickly introduced her too. - And this is my girlfriend, Vaggie.

Vaggie just gave you a slight smile while telling Charlie that they should talk in private. Apologising Charlie said that she was going to be right back.

So now you were left all alone in the lobby. You decided to sit on the couch to think about everything that has just happened.

"Okay so there's an afterlife and i'm not so surprisingly in hell. Im in a place filled with crazy psychos.." You pinched the bridge of your nose. Looking around at your surroundings, hoping that this is all a dream. "Some surprisingly happy woman allowed me to stay at her hotel for as long as i want to. And in this hotel there's my childhood bestfriend. Amazing."

- Fucking amazing - You said out loud as you heard Charlie coming back wanting to continue the tour.

---

You woke up to the sound of someone knocking on your door. Getting up and throwing a blanket on yourself you yelled that they should come in.

And he did.

- What are you doing here, Alastor? - You looked at him with anger in your eyes. - I don't want to see you.

- Well, dearest. - He paused thinking how he should put it in words. - I just wanted to make few things clear beetwen us.

- We haven't seen each others in years and here you are being mad at me because you didn't keep our little promise.

- I didn't keep it? - You got up from your sitting position on your bed and started to slowly walk up to him. - I always stayed up late at night writing letters to you every-fucking-day. I thought that you would care just a little to write back to maybe I don't fucking one. Atleast one letter?

- As i said earlier, i didn't receive any letters. - He looked at you calmly with his signature smile - However I'd like to know your excuse to not responding to my letters.

- I didn't receive any letters Alastor! - God, you were so mad at him. He truly broke your heart. You liked him.. No you lived him for such a long time. He was your first crush and now? He was just a fucking manipulator. - Why the fuck are you lying to me?

- I'd like to discuss this matter calmly. - He said referring to you cussing him in every sentence and your unstoppable yelling. - How about I'll take you to a cafe, my treat.

After considering his offer you agreed. You really needed to know what happened between you two and if he was really lying. It was quite dumb for you to just assume he was a liar without any proof but I guess it was the adrenaline rushing through your veins.

This morning you borrowed a dress from Charlie becouse you didn't have any other clothes then the ones that you've fallen in. It was a black dress just below your knees with an sweetheart neckline. She also borrowed you her jewelry so now you're also wearing a golden necklace.

The time of day has come and Alastor knocked to your bedroom once again. Thus time you opened the door closing it behind, ready to go.

---

Alastor snapping his finger teleported both of you to a nearby cafe. Coming in and gesturing you to chose a table. After you choose one he pulled out the chair for you and took a seat before you.

- So dear. - He looked up at you - That dress really compliments your figure.

- Thank you however it isn't mine. Now I'd like you to explain what happened?

- I don't know what you're talking about, darling. - Oh now he is acting dumb?

- I'll ask one last time. Why didn't you respond to any of my letters? - You asked, this time calmly. Crossing your arms.

- and I'll say one last time. I didn't receive them. - He said looking out of the window, seeing demons suffer. - I always thought that you didn't write them, that you've forgotten about me.

- I'd never forget you, Alastor. You meant a lot for me. - You responded looking out of the window as well - I couldn't imagine life without you. That's why I was truly heartbroken when i didn't ses you write back.

- I was writing to you, so many times. In fact i always wrote to you on the end of every week. - He confessed - For over 15 years.

- But i didn't receive anything?

- Neither did i, dear - Maybe it was the wrong address? Maybe I just didn't know how to send letters? Maybe I didn't actually send them?

- So.. I'm sorry I'm so embarrassed right now. - You looked at your lap fidgeting with your fingers - I should have never yelled at you like. It was very immature of me to accuse you of something you didn't do.

- That's fine, darling - he said looking back at you lowering his tone a bit - Everything is fine between us?

You looked at him with hope in your eyes. Oh how much you wanted to bring things to normal, how it was earlier when you were kids. - Yeah everything is fine.

-Smile my dear! You know you're never fully dressed without one.

(A/N) I rushed the ending so much.. Just because I posted it halfway done and had to speed run the rest. I hope y'all enjoy!

[eldritch-spouse]

Town sheriff Morrel 👀🍄

[Oh you know in your heart that would be the most human-racist town to ever exist.]

TW: Human discrimination(???); Cannibalism mentions; Noncon.

Nobody likes your kind around here.

You're trouble. You're dangerous. Untrustworthy. Bastards, the lot of your species.

The entire town seems to seethe at the mere sight of you, it's never been clearer that you're unwelcome somewhere. The monsters refuse to talk to you, even going as far as to show disgust when you walk in their general direction, and the children scream in amusement like you're some boogeyman. Everywhere you step, it's as if a dozen pairs of eyes are poised on your person, and the local businesses go as far as to deny you basic services. The ones less well-off accept your money in a "hush hush" kind of style, looking as guilty as if they had killed a man for it.

You never intended to live here, but you had to make a stop, and the town seemed normal enough at first sight. How you've come to regret it... At this rate, you won't have anywhere to sleep in for the night.

It all culminates in one big scandal. You had sat down by a bench, wondering what you were going to do now, why this was happening at all, when an indignant feathered monster all but stomped her way over. True to her nature, she squawked about how unsafe this town would be if they all just allowed your kind to roam around, shouted that she would not stand for it neither would she let her children be exposed to such nonsense. She spoke of you like you exuded some kind of contagious lethal illness, and the worst part is that you could tell she believed every word that came out her beak.

To her, and to her kids that didn't know better, you were a menace with the vilest of intents, come to desecrate their loving home.

Speechless is a way to put how you felt in that moment, having never stepped into the shoes of someone so heavily abhorred. Pity welled in your heart when you had witnessed less conveniently-shaped monsters get rejected by your mostly human society, but never could you have dreamed this is the extent of the discrimination monsters and humans can extend towards each other.

You remember the fear for your safety making your heartbeat thunder in your eardrums, until she had yelled that the sherif would "take care of you now".

There was nothing for you to vomit, because you hadn't eaten that day, but you still dry heaved in terror.

What could you have done then? Run away? Yeah right, the crowd that had formed from this woman's rabid yelling looked more than ready to either catch or follow you. The sherif would come, they would find you, and your best bet was to remain placid. To be the person none of these monsters thought you could be.

He was huge.

From a distance, you couldn't even quite tell what kind of monster he was, until you realized the bulbous thing on his head was a cap. A mushroom cap. You'd never seen that type of monster before. His form was bulky and trained, nearly bursting through his outfit, you couldn't even lean up to see the name on his badge, couldn't hope to do anything but freeze under his glowing blue eyes, piercing onto you.

But what shocked you the most, was not his appearance. It was the way he looked at you. The sheriff didn't spare you the same disgusted, enraged glower. Although you still felt intimidated, he cast a giddy, ferally excited leer at you. The avian woman threw herself at him with no ounce of reservation, warning "Mister Morell" of the danger you had been.

He shrugged her off calmly, assured the woman that no harm would ever befall anyone in town, because he's handled piggies before. He can deal with strays, this wasn't an issue. Your stomach once again flipped and twisted all sorts of ways, and you didn't dare move a muscle once a hand was clasped onto your shoulder. A hand much bigger than yours, a hand that could grasp your entire skull.

He didn't need to force you anywhere, and that seemed to make him very excited. Getting in that car was the most stifling moment of your entire existence, and you remember the dread mounting on you, crushing your lungs, the way you could see him constantly giving you looks through the mirror, licking his teeth.

He didn't drive anywhere you could recognize. In fact, the sheriff was looking specifically to distance himself from town. You assumed the worst, naturally. That he was going to put a bullet in you and bury your corpse somewhere. Maybe he'd eat you alive... You- You know the butchers gave you weird looks too, you're not stupid.

You saw. You saw what they had on display.

When Morell stopped the car and got in through the opposite back door, you were already crying, silent tears going down your cheeks as you prepared to beg for your life, to die a humiliating death to some monster that couldn't care less.

He wasn't going to hurt you, Morell assured.

Nothing bad would ever happen to you... If you promised to be a good piglet and made his house into a real home. Morell needed a cute, delicious little thing to come home to. The townies didn't like you at all, the chances of you being killed were high. This one was a degenerate, unlikely to kill you if you fed his erotic fantasies of keeping a human all to himself.

When the sheriff's hand climbed under the hem of your dress, you just closed your eyes and let it happen.

Let him touch you in a ways a monster never had, heard his sick little whispers of how dirty you were, how humans were all so provocative and had to be kept in check. He said he would take care of you, as he thrust hard enough to nearly pop your joints. That you'd never worry about a thing again.

You let him clean you afterwards, clumsily returned his kisses when it seemed as if your lack of response was angering him.

Morell kissed your neck tenderly before he helped you wobble to the passenger seat.

I love you, he had proclaimed, sickly affection in his glowing eyes.

And you guessed, then, you had to love him too.

[rose-tries-to-write]

My Knight Part 2

This can be found on Ao3 under the same username!!

Part 1 Here

The next few weeks are a blur of pristine walls, well-kept gardens, and over-the-top lavishes that Grian had never dreamed of being in the same room with. Scar—the royal elf, or should he say the Crown Prince (“You couldn’t have said something sooner? warned me? anything?”)—introduced him to a world he had only ever imagined back in the orphanage when princes were everyone who held a stick as if it were a sword and pretended to slay dragons and beasts alike.

Grian couldn’t say he’d ever get used to it because he’s pretty sure he won’t get the chance to. After all, the staff all whisper bets of his employment’s expiration date. The one conversation he’d managed to hear before they’d noticed him was between the kitchen staff as they prepared Scar’s breakfast that morning.

“What do you think, Stress?” a man’s voice calls, one Grian recognizes as Bdubs. They’d met on Grian’s first day when Scar toured him through the palace, and Grian had liked the man for his upbeat and almost overwhelming personality. Scar had talked him up as one of his best staff, even noting him as more a very close friend than that of just another staff member. The sentence he speaks isn’t enough to make Grian hesitant to open the kitchen doors, but the next words have his hand hovering over the knob. “That Grian guy, that is. I hear there are bets on how long he’ll last.”

The words are so casual as if thrown out to be more a conversation about the weather rather than what it is. “Um, I don’t know. I’ve never met the fellow, but I hear he’s real good at his job.” The girl, Stress as Bdubs had called her, sounds uncomfortable about the topic of conversation. “Though, I guess being good at his job doesn’t promise his place here, with Scar’s track record. I don’t know, I… I don’t think it’s nice to bet on his failure.”

He’d never heard of ‘Scar’s track record’ as she put it, before now, but it sounds like maybe he should have. He listens as Bdubs responds, “Of course not, but you have to admit it’s interesting. Scar’s never kept a personal guard for longer than a week, the staff hasn’t had something to gossip about like this in years.” He huffs, almost disapproving but it’s hard to tell from behind a door.

Grian is stunned, pondering the implications of such a statement. If Scar had never kept a guard, fired enough for it to become a thing among the staff to bet on the next one’s failure, then he must be hard to please. Grian is hit with the sudden thought of him not being enough to please someone like Scar. He’s a Prince for the gods’ sake, what could Grian possibly offer him as a guard when he’s nothing more than some thief? He’s hit with the thought that, even though he’s lasted longer than a week that doesn’t guarantee that Scar won’t get bored of him.

Grian is pulled from his thoughts by the kitchen doors opening and a small woman with short brown hair stepping out. Her eyes of milk chocolate brown meet his of deep charcoal black and she is frozen in surprise and what looks a lot like guilt. He takes the tray from her hands, knowing just from the sight of eggs and bacon laid out to appear like a smiling face that this is Scar’s breakfast, and escapes the confrontation before it can even begin.

The rest of the day is spent like this, worrying himself into corners as he constantly overanalyzes his actions throughout the day. Is there something more he can do as he stands at attention in the library? Should he be doing something to help Scar while he does paperwork? Is he good enough for Scar to keep around-

“Grian?” He startles, snapping his head to look at Scar where he sits in his study, just a few feet from where Grian stands guard behind him, “Are you okay?” the Prince asks once he has the avian’s attention.

“What?” Grian asks, caught off guard after being pulled from his circling thoughts.

“Are you okay, Grian? You look like you’re gonna pass out.” Scar says in a joking tone, but Grian can hear the genuine worry that sits just under his laughter. Grian nods his head with a shaky smile, feeling words catch in his throat with the thoughts of Scar thinking he’s too sick to do his job. This, unfortunately, seems to make Scar more worried as the smile he always sports wavers as if Scar wants to drop it. He gestures to the couch, “You can rest if you need to Grian, I understand that standing around while I do my work can get boring.”

“Oh, no, that’s fine.” Grian dismisses, panic threatening at the edges of his voice. He sounds strained even to his own ears and he can see the way it only makes Scar more worried about him. Scar gives him a once over before he sighs and stands from his chair. “Wha- Where are you going?” Grian asks as Scar rounds the table.

Scar glances at him before throwing himself down onto the couch that sits neatly against one wall with a backdrop of towering windows, flowing green curtains framing it on either side. “You might not be tired, but I am. That paperwork is far too boring for something I have to do every day,” He bemoans, sinking into the couch and closing his eyes. “Join me, Grian. You don’t have to sleep, but at least sit down with me.”

Grian can see the slick smile that stretches Scar’s face from here, and he narrows his eyes at the Prince. “I can see what you’re doing…. but fine.” Grian grumbles at Scar winning this, but joins Scar on the couch anyway to appease him. It feels wrong to be sitting with Scar when there are things he’s supposed to be doing. Duties as a guard, as the personal guard of the Crown Prince, that Grian can feel creeping up on him even as he tries to relax like Scar wants.

And, maybe Scar can sense it because he sits up and turns to face Grian. He sighs, a look of worry and sadness that looks so wrong on a face that Grian is used to being twisted in a smile. “This isn’t working. You’re stressed and you won’t talk to me about it,” Scar looks down at his hands, twiddling with them as he gathers his thoughts, “I… Did I do something..?” He finally asks, looking up to meet Grian’s eyes.

Grian, for all it is worth, doesn’t know how to respond. In some ways, it is Scar’s fault. He’s the one who goes through guards like they’re toys, he’s the one who chose a thief as a guard, he’s the one who Grian is dependent on never throwing him away. But, also, he’s not the one who told Grian his employment was limited, he wasn’t the one who made Grian believe he had to prove himself to be able to stay. “It’s not… you.”

Scar looks at him, eyes searching for something Grian isn’t sure he can show the Prince. But, for the man who helped Grian out of the streets, he can try. “I… I want to stay. I want to prove that I can be a good guard, that you can trust in me to be there. I want…” Grian looks up, meeting Scar’s eyes. The man looks close to tears, and his hands stray just a smidge too far toward Grian for it to be anything but intentional. Grian puts his hands on top of his instinctively, curling them to take hold of Scar’s hands. “I want to be good enough for you.”

“Oh, Oh, Grian.” And Scar… laughs. He grips Grian’s hands in his and bends over them, bringing them to touch against his temple as he laughs. Slowly, Grian can feel water drip onto his hands.

“Scar?” He asks worriedly, and Scar leans back with a sharp intake of air. This allows Grian to see his face, overrun with shining tear tracks and a smile so wide that Grian is tempted to join the laughter if only to make it less awkward.

“You are good enough.” Scar finally says, taking one of his hands back to wipe his tears away but it quickly returns to Grian’s hold. “I don’t know what I ever did to make you believe otherwise, but I chose you for a reason. You don’t have to prove yourself or earn my trust, you’ve had it since I made you my knight.”

Scar’s hands pull away but are shortly replaced on Grian’s face, caressing his cheeks. “Don’t cry, my knight. You’re here to stay for as long as I live.”

[dragon-queen21]

Hi hello, umm… yeah don’t mind me as I disappear for days and return with a post about oc’s I have never introduced here before.

Something something soldiers in war referring to the nurses that took care of them as mom despite often times all being children themselves.

Tw/ injury, disassociation, implied character death

~~~

“M…” Victor’s voice cracks, wavers, “ma...” His hand finds purchase on the sleeve of Hannah’s sweater.

Everything hurts. He hasn’t had to fight like that in a long, long time. Victor’s claymore rests heavily by his side, weighing him down. He should unsummon it. Can’t exactly remember how too. Can’t give up the insticutal need to keep fighting.

Why is he fighting? Why is it always fighting- and pain- and he’s so, so tired and so scared all of a sudden.

“Mama, mama I’m scared-“

Hannah freezes, as though she hadn’t already by the uncharacteristic behavior of the elder.

“Dear I’m not your-“

Hannah loses all previously thought up endings to that sentence as Victor’s hand tightens on her sweater.

Desperate to have her stay, to make her understand. He’s been so lonely, and his vision is blurred but Victor’s sure that if she would only stay a moment longer…

“Okay, you’re alright sweetheart… your alright.”

She’s no mother, barely older than Victor in age and maturity. He has a son for heavens sake! But something about his state tells the avian that she should go along with this for the moment.

“Easy now,” she guides him to sit on the floor before his shaking knees can send him crashing downward. Wings coming to cover them both. “Easy fledgling…”

Victor flinches. Hannah can do nothing but repeat the soft assurances to him.

They need to leave. She needs to do something. Anything to assure their safety back to the Tallow, but to move Victor now seems like a detrimental decision. She does not know what has brought this on, does not know what the ichor of slain monsters and the corruption that festers in this land has done to the man who sits in front of her.

She wants her husband here, though how she will explain the situation she doesn’t know. Because if any of them would have thought that Victor would regress, they would have had a running bet made on it months ago. Because somehow the image never quite matched. If anyone should have been little…

It doesn’t matter.

“Victor, honey?”

Hazy eyes look up at her. Is he even seeing her right now?

Hannah ignores the urge to tighten her wings around herself less she give away any hint that she is out of her comfort zone here.

“You’ve done so well, do you think you can walk for mama? Let her lead you back to the ship hmm?”

He whines. Actually whines, pushing his face into her stomach, the action so childish that the younger woman’s mind goes static for a moment.

This must be a dream. She’s dreaming. She’ll wake up to Gale’s loving gaze, and chaos in the kitchen, and a day set out of nothing but peaceful sailing. And this will all have been a terrible nightmare that she can laugh about with Cassandra. Because Victor being little… finding out now of all places… The very idea is cruel. A child sent back to the place of their torment.

“Tired… very tired… wan’ s’eep.” he mumbles in a voice so soft, softer than anything she’s heard the man say before.

“I know.” And she does. Not truly, but enough to get the picture. But Hannah witnessed the fight Victor had. The power that only a few on the crew even thought was capable coming from one of their ‘laziest’ members. He’s always tired, this must be exhaustion if it’s bad enough for him to be complaining.

Carrying him is a no, especially if they are trying to keep this under wraps from the rest of the crew… The avian isn’t even sure if she could. Victor was broad framed and taller than her by a head. Muscles still lean from years of training, despite the near constant fatigue he seemed to always be in. Just where the heck was Gale anyways?

Her own musings came to an end when Victor pulls a silver chain from under his shirt. Two gold bands looped onto it that he now held, twisting the rings slowly between his fingers.

“Missed you…”

Hannah takes it all back, all semblance of control she thought she had. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t keep lying to him even if Hannah knows it’s probably the kindest thing. Because she knows without a doubt who Victor thinks she is. A role she can not replace even for a moment.

She can only sit, run a hand through his hair and keep back the worst of the disassociation until-

“Hannah!” Hurried footsteps pound on the earth. Theresa earth that is cracked and dry and sickeningly wrong, wrong, wrong, wro-

She tucks Victor closer to her when he flinches, getting him to sit up despite the protesting whines.

“Gale!” Hannah gasped, she could cry if relief right now. Of course she can’t, can’t even get up and run to embrace her love what with the little still clinging to her. “Gale he’s,”

“Regressed…” her husband finishes for her, a look of bewilderment crossing his face for a moment. “Well that’s certainly a new development isn’t it...” The avian would laugh had the situation been anything less than dire minutes before.

“Right okay…” there’s the warmth of magic that courses over the both of them and Hannah finds it well within her means to lift Victor up.

“Got him?” Gale asks, as though his own abilites weren’t doing the majority of the work right now. Palm outstretched and flickering with psychic energy.

Her husband is an angel, she thinks.

The walk back to the ship isn’t over nearly as soon as it should be. The monsters that lurk at the very edge of their distance making it so they can’t make a run for it. As long as they keep their distance and stay in the light they’ll be fine.

It’s far too optimistic.

Claws scrap at the floor, the sound of something dripping coming closer to them.

“Shit-“ her husband curses, eyes flicking to meet hers, to the regressed warrior held in her arms.

Hannah will be no help in this fight and they both know it, her husband struggles on a good day to use his powers directed in more than one place at a time.

They will not wjn this fight as they are currently.

Right. Damage control it is then.

[erissdoesart]

On my needs begging you to expand on the godhood and religion of the No Venom universe

Hey anonim asker. Do you feel well marinated? Did you wait a while? (I forgor to finish it up for two weeks lmao)

Godhood in No Venom is based loosely on my og story religion! Therefore it's bit beefier and under the cut :D

Also, warning, this post got SO CHAOTIC. Read on your own risk

Okay before anyone judges, I was lazy and drew the symbols with my notes app, with finger haha

So!

Divinity in No Venom belongs to a handful of entities who create a very moody pantheon. The strength they possess is determined by their following and by the country they're tied up with (except Mumza but her whole deal is spoiler reasons so for now shhh)

each god "belongs" to a country- Kristin, Lady Death, belongs to the Antartic Empire

XD belongs to Essempi

Prime Belongs to Lmanburg

Golden Totem belongs to Las Nevadas

And Time Lord, who is temporarily inactive belonged to Kinoko

Why is it important? Gods are tied to the dealings between countries. This means that the bigger the country, the better fun they can have BUT also can be very dangerous to them if said country stops existing

Kinoko and Time Lord are current examples. Because Kinoko is not their own country but merely a province to the Empire, Time Lord is currently inactive- somewhere between a coma and falling from godhood temporarily

In og story, after Kinoko gained a status of the independent Kingdom, Time Lord was reawakened and pretty happy with the turn of the events

But both Totem and Prime got struck into coma instead (Las Nevadas was overtaken by Essempi and Lmanburg became Empire's province)

Mumza controls everyone, and would control everyone, regardles if Empire existed or no but she likes the extra boost of power

Each country has its own god and their religion is centered around said god- to the point where its NOT ALLOWED to have temples of another god in your country.

You can have shrines and leave offerings in the general temple but you cannot outshine the god of your country by a temple of another god!

Domains of the gods!

Lady Death deals with souls of the dead, rebirth, [spoilers] and [MEGA SPOILERS]. She's a patron of crows, avian hybrids, cats, phantom hybrids and enderman hybrids

XD is a god of domination, connection and magic, more soecifically magic creation. He's a patron of oxes, horses, bovine hybrids and sheep hybrids.

Golden Totem is a god of greed, drive, ambition and shares dominion with Prime over riches. He is a patron of scarabs, ants, sharks, cat hybrids, bug hybrids and structure hybrids (for example, totem hybrids- anything thats not animal hybrid)

Prime is a goddess of chance, trickery, good fortune, riches and astrology. She is a patron of foxes, snakes, deer, snake hybrids, nether hybrids and humans

Time Lord is a god of time, dreams, stories and phophecies. They are patron to slime hybrids, creeper hybrids, moths, sheep and rats

Each god "holds" onto the dead of their country for a bit before they are forced to give them up to Lady Death who holds them and later repurposes their souls for new lives or [VERY LOUD SOUNDS OF SPOILERS]

Also, fun fact for the fic, Lmanburg cannot grieve. Its not allowed to grieve in a normal manner.

Their whole deal is seeking chances and happiness and good fortune. They do not show their grief outside and people generally dont say stuff like "im sorry for your loss", they say "Let them dance with Prime and Prime repay you" :3

Each god has 2 holy symbols as well

For Lady Death it's the classic angry hardcore heart

And a cheaper version for the masses, three shards- those are usually used in the temples as chimes

XD has the eye of ender (sometimes swapped with ender eye)

And cheaper, an x scratched onto any item that is dear to the person (Knight Dream has tiny x scratched onto his mask for example)

Totems symbol is a golden pyramid

and, the budget version is any coin attached to a chain!

Prime, as a goddess who is said was born of stars, has a star with divots made. Idk how to explain, basically this star:

cheap version is this pentagon because if you pushed the sides so they curved, you would basically get the star

And lastly, Time Lord has an hourglass. To show if you will have good or bad time or what period of your life you are, you flip it so the sand inside flows down or keep it down (dripping sand=good, still sand=bad. People would get concerned and will attempt to flip someones hourglass if they notice it still)

And "cheaper" version is tree symbol. Thankfully, it can just be a little bit of a branch but some people are really nitpicky about it

[icyowl]

I Can't Fly So We'll Drown

Pairing: Hawks x reader ft. a bit of avian!hawks

Request: none

Synopsis: Hawks saves you but nearly drowns because birds can’t fly when wet. 3k. Previously titled Freezing Rain Feathered Chains

A/N: This is not proofread. Typos are to be expected.

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

Your thoughts were decidedly unremarkable when facing your death. No mentions of family or friends, not of your boyfriend, not of missed opportunities or dreams never fulfilled. No regrets and no thoughts of the circumstances that led to your unfortunate situation.

Pain, and trying to stop that pain, were the only synapses firing in an otherwise empty brain. One good thing had happened since you’d been cast into the river: you’d managed to escape your sinking car. Bad news? There was more water than air in your lungs and the surface of the river was several feet above you. You had fought, you really had, but cold and clothing had robbed you of mobility and a dense fog had replaced normal thought.

Of course, you tried to live. For minutes you had struggled before you couldn't break the sloshing water's surface any longer. Hero. You needed just one — fuck he didn't even need a quirk! Just a hand and a good heart.

Now all your body felt was one thing: air. Need air.

Your lungs kicked and lurched in a final fight to create air from nothing. The savage burning from your chest spread to every bit of sinew. It was powerful enough even to block out the agony of the near-zero water temperatures. Were you still struggling? Who really knew. Fangs -- numerous, excruciating -- drug you down further away from the life continuing on above you.

Somehow the pain grew impossibly worse when your lungs decided to inhale on their own, pouring more water down your throat.

From above the water Hawks spotted your car on his fly-by, seeing it submerged up to the taillights, proving with one glance at the license plate that it belonged to you. Had you tread water for just a bit longer, he'd be able to see you before the harsh river current towed you hundreds of feet down the river and eventually to its bottom.

Silt gradually began to settle around you. The soil over your grave, if you will.

Hawks knew the repercussions of his actions when he dove straight down into that same wintry water: birds can't fly when wet. Species with special oils were an exception he was not apart of. He was human enough to be in danger, and different enough to feel disadvantaged because of his quirk.

And yet Hawks didn't hesitate.

First attempt: unsuccessful. His eyes burned under the water's pollution, and it was far too murky to peer through even with his avian powers of sight. Self-preservation forced him back to the surface for oxygen even when his brain screamed that you were still down there. Again, he tried. As much as it takes.

Second: no luck. He should have thrown at least his jacket off — it was weighing him down, dragging in the current this way and that. His wings rotated in the waves, trying to manage the tumultuous tide of water threatening to steer him off course. When he surfaced he called your name again, looking for a bit of hair or debris to help him. Thousands of gallons of liquid swept by, impossible to stop or sift through. Further. You had to be further downriver.

Hawks's wings broke the surface, flapping once, twice, uselessly floundering alongside their owner while he gulped in air. He shouted a helpless plead into the sky, coughing up water from his own mouth. “Please!”

Third attempt. Lethargy began to overcome him as the cold water licked along his body. His gloves grabbed at handfuls of sand at the bottom of the river. Trash, glass, anything but you or your clothing. When had you fallen in? Could a human even last this long? He wouldn't know until someone recovered your body. It would be him to do so, and it would be right now.

Fourth try. Tears merged with the river wrapping him up in its clutches. He had a chance to save you. Why would he have been given this life, with the training and honing and suffering, if it wouldn't enable him to save you? Hawks searched the water blindly, hands and wings and eyes reaching for some part of you to hang onto. Screams left him in constant sobs, carried away with the tide and into the abyss. As the seconds passed, he began to give in to the froth. He would die looking for you, but at least it meant not living a life without you.

Hawks was tossed into a large mass. Clothing spread in front of his eyes, the color of the jacket he'd bought you when the weather had begun to change. His super-human gaze narrowed in on your peaceful visage. It had the same serenity as a child's. . . and he was consumed with a palpable rage on par with his mentor's most intense inferno. This berserker trance gave him the strength to save his mate, made his quivering arms pull you from the filth, his delirious mind hold onto consciousness just a little longer, and let his wings stretch to their ultimate reach to somehow bend the water to his will.

You did nothing when he broke the surface.

“Come on. Breathe!” Hawks screamed. As best as he could, he leaned back to let you rest face-up on his chest. From here he could hold your chin back and above the water. This wasn't going to work, he knew, when merely holding you up was forcing him under.

Through the struggle, he still had to find the shore. It took time, too much, but eventually, he was able to push his spent muscles and your limp carcass onto the bank. Your skin was an impossibly dead color, lips lax and lacking any pigment.

In his near-hysteria, Hawks never hesitated before he began pushing on your chest relentlessly. Any semblance of rhythm was interrupted by his panic. “Please! Come on kid, breathe for me!”

Crunch. Crack. Snap. His impacts had begun to break your ribs. He knew he was hurting you but this was the only way to have any chance of saving you and the dichotomy forced tears from his eyes. Never had he imaged himself hurting you on purpose but what choice did he have?

Hawks's pounding was relentless. He didn't worry about his own fading mind, the severe tremble in his body, or his wings, rendered waterlogged and useless. Panic made him scream, curse, and hold your face one last time—

Water dribbled out your nose and mouth. When he collapsed over top of you to try and sense a sign of life, he heard faint beats from your weary heart, and a chilly exhale brushed against his ear. Breathing.

“That's it, don't give up on me.” Hawks said. He rubbed your sternum to help push out more water and get you back to consciousness. Then came the coughing, gagging, wheezing, shivering at the icy temperatures. It took many moments for your thoughts to assemble in some fort of cognitive way. Fuck it was cold, fuck you were in pain, but the pain meant you were alive. Alive thanks to the very special man sitting back and collapsing in the waves. Vaguely you heard his voice, exhausted and paper-thin on the air.

The muscle weakness kept you from being able to so much as lift your arms. If you could, you would've sat up sooner. If you'd done that, maybe you could've saved Hawks from the river. Now all you had were the waves of water at your legs and the drag marks in the sand of someone being pulled in. No Hawks. The air you'd just gotten back into your body rushed out in fear. He must have fainted, been swept back under the waves, and now you had to get him back when you could barely keep your eyes open.

“Kei. . . Keigo.” You tried to scream. What came out was a weak whimper. You saw nothing in the water no matter where you looked. He was just here. He had just saved you. Now, you had to do the same for him.

There.

The tip of a wing arced across the surface, slowly, with no resistance. Could you even swim right now without drowning again? Waterlogged clothes, weak muscles, overwhelming chill. Getting up seemed impossible; how were you going to fare treading water?

You didn't hesitate.

Someone was looking out for you when several seconds of swimming blindly downstream put you next to another glimpse of a crimson wing just a dozen feet away. The river had narrowed by now, forcing the current into a faster pace. You grabbed here, there, tortuously, for several seconds until the brush of a leather glove kicked you into overdrive. He was just within reach when a sharp turn to the river forced you apart. It was your turn to yell for him.

His face emerged from the swells, faintly gasping. It went back under for a moment before you finally latched into his jacket and pulled him to you. With what strength you had left you kept his head tucked under your chin. How much water had he ingested by now? What about you?

“Why. . . did you. . .” He tried into your throat. You didn't have time to reply before the both of you were thrown against a large cement pole emerging from the rapids. Terror gripped you when you lost hold of him, feeling him slip until you tightened around him like some feral creature.

Now you had to be strong again. Not for yourself, this time, but for Hawks. “We have to get to shore.” If you were lucky, one good push from the current could get you close. Time was precious, now. The longer you two spent in the icy river, the more your strength and coordination would leave you. The layers of fabric that had kept the both of you warm were now weighing you down, not to mention Keigo's wings. “Babe?” You tried. A vague hum was all you got in return. It was nearly impossible to discern amongst the sounds of waves all around you. “I know you're tired, I know it hurts, but we gotta work together. I need your help, Keigo.”

Hearing his name from your voice, feeling the lethargy creeping in on you, knowing you were risking everything to try and save him when it should be the other way around; it made his eyes open. . . and his pupils narrow into animalistic slits. A snarl from someplace deep inside him was all you got as a warning before clawed hands gripped mercilessly onto your skin. Hawks's wings came to life, powerfully beating once, twice, and more to gather momentum. He'd brought both of you several inches out of the water before the minimal lift his wings managed to produce finally collapsed under their own weight. A second try yielded identical results. He was rapidly losing strength — you could feel it in the heaving of his chest pressed to your back and in the pants he exhaled into your ear. The rush of adrenaline would soon leave him completely and with it your chance of living.

“Keigo. . . I love you.” You quietly spoke. Despite the situation you began to feel at ease. Hawks was there with you. . . and the pull of the current became enticing. . . to let go now would be peaceful. . .

He growled in response: don't give up on me, now. The power it exuded brought some life back into you. Your injuries prevented you from properly taking in your surroundings, but Hawks spotted a piece of rebar sticking out at an angle from the shore. The position put it right over your heads, but several feet above the water. He had one chance to gain height and grab it. His strength was all but gone, hypothermia had long since set in. Did he still even possess the coordination?

It didn't matter. Possessing it or not wasn't a question. He'd find it.

His wings pushed themselves to their breaking point, heaving out of the water and hitting it with a loud smack, over and over, gaining centimeters each time. By now you'd gone limp, overcome by the cold and your injuries, but the talons on his one hand had long-since embedded themselves into you and your clothing. Neither God nor Satan could get him to let go.

His trajectory was off but nonetheless the fingertips of his free hand brushed the metal before latching onto it with a bone-crushing grip. A brief moment of relief was overcome when almost immediately the soaked leather of his gloves began to slip from the pole. He couldn't hold on, but he didn't need to. Thinking fast, he used the last bit of his grip to throw himself towards the riverbank before his hand let go completely. The sand — salvation — was still feet away, and the current was pulling him back to certain death. His heart lurched, feet kicking wildly. Then, a miracle.

His boots brushed against the silty bottom of the river. A final gust of willpower had his feet straining to get a better hold. Step. Slip. Step. Slip. Step. Slip. A fraction of an inch at a time, Hawks began to gain traction in the muck. Again, gravity became a friend and a foe as he emerged from the deathtrap, you successfully in his shaking grasp.

He fell with you into the mud and dirt, not even strong enough to break your fall or lessen the impact of him falling over top of you. Fighting off the sweet serenity of unconsciousness proved nearly impossible. Hawks don't know how he managed — he was convinced he'd never felt physical agony as bad as this.

The mental anguish of failing to ensure your safety was the only thing keeping him awake. He didn't see the bridge overhead, the people witnessing the struggle, or the frantic calls for heroes and an ambulance. All he saw was you. Keigo held your cheek in his palm, a thumb touching at your frosty lashes. He hadn't even noticed the cuts and bruises from the car crash marring your otherwise tranquil visage. “Come on, please. Let me get this one thing right.”

Hawks pulled off his glove with his teeth. If he didn't know any better he'd think you were dead, but he knew your spirit, knew how much you'd fought for him and for yourself. With someone like you, there was a chance. He pressed his greying fingers over your carotid.

Bump. Bump. Bump. Bump. Your ghostly pulse pushed back against his finger pads; sluggish, faint, but there.

All rigidity left his body at that moment, sending him collapsing on top of you. He watched -- numb and immobile -- as the breath of his exhale came out smokey and violent before dissipating into the winter air. Both of you lay unconscious and unmoving for several minutes before EMTs could arrive and find their way down to the riverbank. In those minutes Hawks never moved from his position on top of you — protecting you even while knocked out. The two of you appeared frozen in time and space, perhaps in a place far away without cold or pain. Some would later go on to say Hawks looked borderline childish, his cheek smooshed to your chest. Your heartbeat softly into his ear.

The instant an EMT touched your body Hawks was awake. His golden eyes opened wide as his body tensed. Claws grew, pupils constricted, fangs descended. The hissing roar he unleashed had the paramedic falling back into the mud. When he looked up, the image that greeted him appeared to be torn from a book of mythology.

Crimson wings freckled with ice shivered violently with cold and rage. Though they lacked the strength to rise from the dirt, they still drew in close to protect the precious body trapped under them. Wheat-colored eyes blazed, razor-thin and reactive. One of Hawks's clawed hands carefully dove under you to pull you closer to his chest, away from any signs of harm. Finally, an inhuman and thunderous hiss boomed from his chest. One look into the eyes of the bravest (dumbest) bystander sent even him scrambling away.

Needless to say. . . the first EMT didn't try to separate you two. He didn't have the guts. Not with Hawks close by. In fact, it took a far more experienced paramedic to successfully get Hawks to let you go. Not because he outmuscled him, but because he talked Hawks out of it.

“You did good, Hawks.” The older paramedic said in an attempt to reach him. Years on the job gave the man the experience to know how to talk down someone who, at the moment, was more animal than man. “You did really good, but she needs medical help. That gash on her head looks pretty bad, but we can only treat her if you let us.”

Still Hawks didn't move.

“She's barely breathing, dude.” He continued. “You got her this far, let us get her the rest of the way, alright? I'll let you watch me the whole time.”

Hawks appraised the gentleman for some time. Finally, his rational mind seemed to return, and with it his ability to give you up for medical treatment. He saw the blood coating his fingers when he allowed the EMT to reach under him and pull you out and onto a gurney.

Hawks continued to stare at his hand and talons while you were being treated. Don't get any ideas, he watched your treatments like a, well, hawk. He kept track of your breathing by feeling the air with the tips of his drying feathers. In the ambulance, the hallway, while they tended to you in the hospital. Never once did he stop eyeing the nurses and doctors. Everyone felt it, too — the gaze of a predator lying just out of reach. Waiting for any excuse to go on the attack.

The feeling in his hand still drew his attention from time to time. His talons didn't get to “come out” very often; the cuticles were sore, and getting his nails to retract was proving difficult. Hawks looked between them and you every few minutes. He'd hurt you. His wings, his mutation, his reason for being, had done nothing but get himself in trouble and make it harder to save you. It was easy to feel the familiar self-loathing consuming his heart. If only he were different, normal even, maybe this would have turned out better. His heart squeezed tightly when he imagined how you'd comfort him. You would most certainly chastise him for thinking such a way. After all, if it weren't for the inhuman reserves of strength and survival instinct, you'd likely be at the bottom of the river. The truth was he had in fact protected you. It wasn't perfect, but he looked at you in the bed, a nurse giving you another blanket to help keep you warm, and knew you'd give him the space to try and be the best he could.

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

Just imagine how he'd treat you when you woke up. awwwwwww

[angeart]

hhau mimic arc rambles part III bonus: mimic, alone

(~2k words) // other parts & au masterpost here

[cws physical assault, mutilation, body horror, identity crisis, fear and guilt, self image and self worth struggles, survivor guilt? in a way, panic attack]

After the disaster of the weakness dosing and Scar finding out and running off, Juni does not try to follow him. He does not try to find Grian and Scar again—he knows he’s fucked that up irreparably. He made a mistake, and it’s not one that could be forgiven.

Just like that, all the comfort and sense of belonging (however false it was) is torn away from him. He’s plunged into solitude, with nothing but his guilt pressing down at his shoulders, and he knows it’s deserved. Aimless, he picks a random direction and goes, without any purpose or plan.

He knows he isn’t allowed to hold onto anything that was Scar's or Grian’s. But he still can’t put together a form of his own; through it all, he’s still running on borrowed things— No, not borrowed. Stolen. 

None of him is him. 

Briefly, he had a name. Briefly, it felt like maybe he could be his own person.

It feels like a faraway dream.

All sense of identity falls through his fingers once again. He lets it.

He doesn’t want to be Juni anymore. Juni did something awful. Being Juni hurts.

Once again nameless, he tries to shed the illusion of Grian that clings to his skin. (God. He left him to die, didn’t he?) Doesn’t even dare touch the likeness of Scar. But there’s nothing else to hold on. Nothing else to grasp at.

He tries. He tries so hard, to create something from nothing. But he doesn’t know who he’s meant to be. Doesn’t even know where to start. Or how. 

He keeps pushing. Forcing it and adjusting until it hurts. It feels futile. It keeps coming out wrong and twisted. Like his body can’t remember how to be.

Wearily, he settles on something that passes as looking normal-adjacent—albeit tired and hurt—except it’s still kind of distorted. He keeps feeling sick. His body feels weird. Not his. Never his. 

He still has wings. He can’t bring himself to take them away, separate that vulnerable part from his form. Maybe because he saw how an avian can be loved and cared for, and no matter how undeserving, he still achingly wants that.

… Well, if he won’t take the wings away, maybe someone else will.

At some point, he has a run-in with hunters. 

The attack is vicious. It’s a blur that ends with Juni the mimic pinned to the ground. There’s not a sliver of empathy or care. An explosion of agony blooms across the mimic’s back, changing the pitch of his screams from sheer terror to something much worse.

Desperate and terrified, he tries to shift, right underneath their hands and blades. He wants it to stop. He wants to shift out of  the parts that sear and hurt. 

It doesn’t quite work. He writhes and morphs and glitches, screaming his throat raw. His wings burn, the point where they connect to his back is drowning in molten pain, nerves flaring and making him so thoroughly aware of them that he can’t unthink them. They’re actively in pain and he can’t will them away. (They were never meant to belong to him and now they won’t Go Away.) It hurts it hurts it hurts.

It’s so helpless and terrifying. He writhes and cries and wails in their grasp.

His wings aren’t real. (But oh god does he still bleed.) They aren’t the tangible prize that the hunters desire. And once they realise—as the feathers lose their shine and slowly fade in their greedy hands, without the mimic’s active participation in maintaining their illusion—frustration and anger takes over.

This isn’t worth their time. This hybrid has nothing left to offer.

They pierce him with a damaged spear they don’t care about keeping, pinning him to the ground so he can bleed out, forgotten.

And maybe it’d be better to stay put and let it happen. To wait it out until the pain merges into something duller, number. To fade out, right here, abandoned on the forest floor. (Just like he’s abandoned Grian—) 

But he’s scared. He’s too scared of death, despite everything. 

Sobbing, shaking, nauseous and dizzy and weak, he fights. He struggles to get free, morphing and shifting his boddy in horrible ways until he manages to slip his form past the spear prison tearing at his flesh. 

He wails and crawls and bleeds, fearful he’ll become some horrid creature’s dinner. 

His body keeps morphing and shifting in uncontrolled jerks and twitches. It completely messes up the mimic’s perception of his own body by the end of it. He barely knows how to rearrange himself back into something that makes a semblance of sense, but the pain doesn’t leave and he’s so alone and afraid and woozy.

A fragment of memory comes to him. Scar and Grian talking about potential future. Of finding safety up in the tree branches. Of making nests, safe little islands high above the ground. 

Juni is terrified of heights. But right now, it doesn’t seem so scary. Not when everything else terrifies him far more.

He picks a tree, and he climbs.

And man, does climbing hurt. Straining the muscles along his shoulders and back. (He sobs and chokes all the way, but perseveres, desperate for a sliver of safety. Somewhere to try to patch himself up as much as possible.) (He can’t even really reach his back properly though—) 

It strikes him as odd, how much he wants to live. 

He used to treat the missions from the hunters as something that could kill him. Each could be his last, and he’d be okay with it. Because maybe he’d deserve it, after tricking and luring so many hybrids in. He kept yearning for something else, something more, but would just roll over if the blow was coming.

And then Scar and Grian happened, and— And Juni tasted life.

And he still tricked them. He still brought terrible fate on them. He’d still deserve death—now more than ever.

And yet he can’t seem to let go.

The (physical) healing is an arduous process. He falls sick. His form keeps shifting. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Where to go. Who to be.

But he survives. 

He survives, and then the day of the eclipse rolls around.

Thankfully, the mimic doesn’t have animal hybrid instincts that could be warped here. Although he’s donned wings again—maybe unwittingly, but he doesn’t feel right without them anymore. (A part of him still craves to be loved. Yearning helplessly and achingly for a sliver of safety and affection back. For fondness turned his way despite all his faults and flaws.) (A wholly different part of him still thinks he ought to be punished. Wearing wings is now more terrifying than ever, after surviving that attack. And yet here he is, with their weight on his back again, right over what’s meant to be horribly scarred skin.) (Because how could he take the wings off so easily, when he left Grian out there like that? Grian with his shiny wings, unable to hide them away? How could the mimic ever deserve to simply shed that danger from his own back after what he’s done?)

It’s on this day when he stumbles upon an avian caught in a net trap. A real, living avian that the hunters haven’t had the chance to get to yet. Moments before the sky would turn dark. Before all the hunting truly sets off. 

The avian looks at him with so much hope. Placing his misguided, frightened trust in this seemingly winged person. Begging for help, so very scared.

And the mimic tries. He tries.

The net doesn’t give. The avian is bleeding heavily. There’s a telltale sign of the hunting party setting off. The sky darkens. The avian keeps squirming, tangled into ropes, and—

They lock gazes. 

Two terrified sets of eyes. One captive, one free.

The sun is gone.

The avian chirps, high-pitched, a distressed beacon. They try to reach out for the mimic. Help help help.

The hunters approach, and the mimic panics.

Without thinking, he copies the look of the trapped avian. (He can’t keep a stable form; he can’t go back to Grian’s either, doesn’t want to, can’t can’t can’t.) He doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it, as he takes in their fear and sees his own reflected there. And— He turns away.

He runs.

He runs and he feels so indescribably horrible about it. Stacking his guilt until it’s tripping his feet, suffocating his lungs. He’s scared. He’s too scared, he couldn’t stay, they’d just both die, he couldn’t do it—

Is this all he’s good for?

He’s tired of saving himself.

(Who even is he anyway?)

His surroundings turn nightmarish and harrowing. A myriad of noises rises in cacophony—all the chirps, howls, laughter. The rise and fall and plunges into silence. The vex hollering. Wails and screams. 

Tumbling down, he curls up in a ditch, shaking and trying to breathe through an incoming panic attack. His mind spins a million miles an hour, dizzying. His hands feel like they’re drenched in blood. (They are. They’re stained from the wounds of the avian he left to die.)

He listens to bird chirps come and go, a sharp echo of what he’s just done.

An echo of what he’s already done before.

His bloodied hands shake horribly. He’s wheezing, gasping for breaths that evade him, pressing himself against soil in attempts to be quiet.

But he can’t, he can’t—

He left Grian to die. 

He had a chance there and he didn’t take it. He turned his back. He walked away. 

He did that. It was all his doing, start to finish. All his decision.

He killed him.

A sharp howl makes him flinch, panicked gaze peering through the eclipse-induced darkness. He catches a glimpse of the vex hunting party, wild and dangerous, their magic shimmying through the air in their wake.

He wonders if Scar is out there on some vex rampage. If he’s aimless and destructive, betrayed and grief-stricken, uncaring for his own wellbeing. If he ever stopped searching for his bird. 

Or if he’s dead, too.

He’s convinced he got them both killed. And for what?

He wasn’t working for the hunters anymore. And he didn’t even get what he wanted, either. He might’ve just gotten two hybrids killed for a week or two of fleeting, misplaced affection. 

He used to think the world was cruel and awful and had nothing good. And then he found something good. And he snuffed it out himself.

Because as it turns out, maybe he is the wrong and cruel thing. And he doesn’t want to be. He desperately doesn’t want to be, but— He already did those awful things. He can’t take them back.

He’s got wings now that aren’t Grian’s. (Though they belong to another doomed soul.) (Another soul he doomed.) He knows he’s no longer allowed to have anything of theirs, and he can’t form anything definitely his own, and— He thought this would feel better. No longer stealing from Grian.

But it’s still so wretched. Still stitched together with blood and fear.

The black wings on his back belonged to a trapped creature. And maybe that’s a reflection of how the mimic feels, too. Trapped. And like he deserves to die. (But he’s still afraid of it. So, so horribly afraid.) And avians… die easily, right?

(A horrible thought, considering he can’t stop seeing the way he abandoned Grian, defenceless on the forest floor—)

In the end, he doesn’t pick a new name for himself. He doesn’t figure out who he is. (Besides a monster.) He doesn’t know why he’s still alive. 

But he keeps surviving. 

Keeps walking aimlessly, shackled with his guilt and fear, with black wings on his back, aware that their previous owner is no longer around to accuse him of theft. (His fault his fault his fault.)

He’s left to wander the world, thinking he’ll never again feel the warmth of affection he so soul-shatteringly craves.

But maybe… Maybe he’s wrong about that.

Maybe the future will be kinder to him than he’d ever dare to hope for.

(And maybe it will still amount to nothing anyway.)

[t4tpumpkinduo]

No longer need to use anon hii ^_^ Okay, do you have specific heacanons about their species? Like how the work, if theres a culture behind it? They could share eachothers cultures.. And how different or similar is there relationship in Manburg vs Las Nevadas?

OMG HIII and yes i'm glad, i rlly appreciate yr qs :'[ tysm fr giving me the chance to yap abt these freaks its been YEARS. ok iwill start now

so first my hot take is cschlatt is a mixed king i think she's half sheep half goat. let me explain 🤚 do not interrupt me

well firstly, i just think it's kinda moe cuteness adorable and plays into his duality...i think her ma was a brown sheep, and his dad was a white goat and his hair ended up kinda swirled because of it. and up until revival brute forced white hair on her and made her confront stuff (and revival hair isn't dyeable to me), he'd dye it full brown regularly bcs his relationship w his dad was normal and healthy don't worry abt it don't worry stop asking questions. she's a clearly normal ram.

also uhhh. To support my claim, and this is meta knowledge, but i do think it's interesting tht even ccschlatt the guy will call his character a goat sometimes, does not disuade ppl who call him that in rp even though one of cschlatt's main character traits is the way he'll stand up for himself/hates being percived in a way he doesn't want, which means it mustn't be that srs to be called that in the first place, and also promotes rammie merch w goat emoji even though ram ones DO exists. 🤨 it's almost like he wants annoying microbloggers to dig into it too much. something to think about.

fr cq obvs he's a duckie primarily, some manner of patito but i also think he's part budgie and it fucked up his development in some way. idk, to me he has like. little claws he needs to file down which ducks do Not have, and he also just chirps which ducks do not do. his wings are yellow but if you fluff them up underneath you can see that it's a kinda dawny white, like they were SUPPOSED to grow more but just kinda stagnated, and that coloration is very common w budgies. not to mention those things are notoriously v small and weak and can die pretty easily so idk i'm sure that doesn't play into anything. mixed king who lost

for a culture thing i think uhhh. well i'm not sure if culture is the right word for what i'm going for but i'm not sure those things exist for me? i'm sure there's peoples, and i'm sure ancient avians have their own thing going on probably but most ppl are just some guy. like any guy who has an extra thing to upkeep. i do think cq cschlatt have some interesting seasoning to their hybridisms specifically however so:

ithink schlatt grew up in a v small town, w her and his family as the only Real hybrids which was also normal for him as a guy who takes being scrutinized and looked at differently very well. him niki n wilb were all besties, until wilb left to pursue his dreams of getting his dad to pay attention to him i mean getting his dad to pay attention to him i mean music. and then cniki and cschlatt had one of those weird toxic girl friendships breakups that fuck up their lives and leave them in resentment for years but they didn't know schlatt was a girl yet so it was extra weird for them. niki voice why are we having later to be thematically relevant tension you miserable asshole schlatt voice if you say anything else i'm gnna eat my own leg and you won't be able to stop me. so alas.

so he just didn't have that like...wider connection or interactions, and she ofc couldn't rely on her dad who probably ditched her and her sick ma when schlatts like. 13. so all the hybridism upkeep he knows, like upkeep and proper filing of his horns or polishing her hoovsies, come from his mama. horror sting. who dies not long after. wwell.

ithink cq also lacks a level of connection to wider bird hybrisisms bcs i don't think he ever had parents at all i think he just spawned. which is literally not uncommon in the mcyt world at all. but he had nobody to. teach him anything, so he just kinda lets his instincts guide him even tho tht doesn't work v well either.

ithink he was just a mildly feral street urchin type kid, yk stealing to eat that kinda thing and ended up being in and out juvie bcs of it at like. idk id say v young when he first got locked up, like 9 or smthng which is super insane but wht cn ydo.

(my other hc is tommy and cq know eachother frm juvie :] makes sense to me. cuz canonstyle ctommy is v fond of cq and cq of him before the smp even starts, and they make "jokes" abt peddling drugs together, right after cq talks abt being put on them in juvie, and is currently selling them to make money cuz he just got outta there. why do they both already know how to do this. guys who definitely made it insufferable in there)

and then on one of the times he gets away :] i think csam adopts him and loves him very much abt it even if cq more often than not pops in and out on account of the mc nature of the world. and cq definitely won't replay his kindness by accidently ruining his life. (REXHING AMD PUKGING.) but the guy is a creeper hybrid 👍 and not a bird. so he isn't really sure how to navigate that either and especially cuz cq is a shitty little shape shifter on top of it. smthing he is ALSO bad at and can't control v well or for v long w/o getting really fucked up from it. (guy who always loses) i never lose

scritches my head so yk general lack of upkeep type of guy. he doesn't know how to preen himself v well or v consistently, he doesn't get to his little claws fast enough so smtimes he just nips at them to stop from slashing someone's eye out by accident. but i do think he gets better at it eventually and nothing abt this fuckass evil server stops his progress either. guy who gets brutalized all the time to the point of severe scarring and nerve damage why am i on edge and hindered by scarring and nerve damage lolll 😅

anyways this got too edgy i'm cutting this off. the point is both these guys have probbles but what can you do in this bitch of a server. also the second question is so so good and swagiful and my response will be unspeakably long so i'm gnna resend that part to myself and answer it there ^_____^ 👍 on it's own post. yes thank you.

[hermitkat]

Grian is jumpy. Everyone knows that. They didn't always, though.

It was something the hermits realised decently quickly when he first joined the server. He was nervous and had a seemingly endless need for causing trouble. His reaction when caught off guard could be a little extreme. It wasn't really a problem until the wings grew in, though.

As soon as they learned about what he was, X also promtly held a mandatory meeting, teaching everyone about how avians differed from other hybrids, making sure they knew the basics of their behaviour. This is why everyone knew to be careful with his bones. Especially the ones in his wings. Fragile, but very important - keep safe.

The hermits weren't usually big on breaking others' bones anyway, opting for more deadly pranks and traps, if anything. So surely it wouldn't be a problem, right?

It was Mumbo who noticed the problem first. Grian had a tendency to visit his base. Even when he wasn't invited. Especially if he wasn't invited. Doing that did often make him extra tensed up, though. This essentially made him a spring, on high alert, waiting to be sprung.

Mumbo liked spooking him. Before he had his wings, he would just jump up into the air, make many paniced noises, and maybe flail his arms about a bunch. It was very entertaining. Once he was once again able to use his wings, he quickly learned that he might take a couple extra precautions before he went looking for that kind of entertainment, though.

When spooked, Grian would still jump and make all the funny noises, but now his wings would join in on the flailing as well. This often ended up with them smacking into objects, and when paniced enough, even flight, which could become a real problem in small spaces.

So he did his best to survey their surroundings before he did anything that could spook the avian. He did, however, forget to also mention this to the other hermits. To be fair, Grian didn't initially interact with anyone other than mumbo, anyway, so he didn't have much reason for concern.

The prank war did, however, force Grian to exist around the other hermits a lot more. And so it was that during a secret spying mission, Grian was spotted by Doc. He was part creeper, making him extra quiet on his feet. So he decided to have some fun.

He waited until he was right behind his back before speaking. All he got out was "Grian.." before the avian reacted. He made many different noises. He jumped. He flapped his wings. He took flight. Then the noises stopped suddenly, replaced by something entirely different. It was no longer squawks and chirps that filled the small room. It was a pained scream.

He had managed to fling himself straight into a wall, one of his wings getting twisted in a weird way and squashed under the weight of his body slamming into it. The creeper hybrid immediately knew something was wrong, so he quickly called for help, putting the war on pause while the wing healed.

After that, everyone was a lot more careful about how they approached Grian, but no one could really match Doc. He liked being intimidating, finding that people respected him more when they were at least a little scared of him. He did not actually want to hurt anyone. Especially not his friends. And he had.

He kept playing that incident over in his mind. He couldn't stop hearing that scream. In his dreams, Grian was terrified, in pain, always because of him. He felt so guilty. He knew that he wasn't really to blame. It was a freak accident. But he couldn't seem to convince himself of it.

It got to the point where he started avoiding going to sleep for as long as he could. Anything to keep himself from seeing him hurt again. The others started to notice something was off. He started avoiding them. He just worked. It kept his mind occupied. He finally broke one night and, in a haze, headed for the admins base.

He needed to talk to someone. He had been pushing everyone away for too long. He felt like he might go insane if he let this go on for even a little longer. X graciously and galdly listened to his mostly incoherent rambling until he passed out on the couch he'd been seated on. When he woke up, he felt better. He finally felt ready to do something about his problems.

X advised him to talk to Grian and apologise. So he did. Grian was confused as to what he was even so sorry about, having forgiven him long ago. He felt infinitely better. The more he saw of the avian, the less it haunted him. He did not seem afraid, no. If anything, he was overconfident. He had never really blamed Doc in the first place. He was intimidated by the man, sure, but not afraid.

He much preferred it that way.

[floral-moon-light]

Lore update for Philza on the QSMP! If you haven't seen the Friday the 13th of October stream or vod and/or the Monday the 16th stream or god go watch before returning!

Okay, so Friday the 13th did not really have much of anything lore-wise to talk about. So, to explain what happened that day, the start of the stream was mostly Phil, Fit, and Tubbo talking about a previous day's lore since Fit and Tubbo haven't gotten to hear what happened and Phil taking the two to the places he got his pictures of Tallulah and Chayanne. After which, shenanigans mostly happened involving a museum visit, spawning of seven deadly sins mobs, and talk about Tubbo either getting murdered or kidnapped (and other random stuff).

Once the group minus Tubbo gets back to Phil's house they mostly talked about the eggs and did some decoration of the outside of Tallulah's seed bank with Fit hyping Phil up. Eventually Jaiden comes over and joins in watching Phil work while revealing Jaiden has wings now, or that she always had wings but is now feeling confident enough to show them. At one point Cucurucho comes over and presents Jaiden with her reward for the task she did.

At some point the two leave and Phil decided to got exploring for dungeons, but gets distracted trying to capture a sunbird he spotted. At some point during the chase Cucurucho stops by Phil and gives him a task to go concur some dungeons for a reward (forget what, all I know is it wasn't anything important and the only thing I do remember about the reward was duckcoins). After which Phil goes back on the sunbird hunt for 1 and a half hours, eventually capturing a Sunbird (the admins had to give it to him because the one he caught with a lasso glitched off the lasso, but the admins agreed Phil caught it). This lead to Phil going back to his dungeon hunt, completing a few dungeons, and heading home to get Cucurucho to give him his reward, mentioning during this that he would really like his wings back as the reward but he only got laughed at. After which Phil checked his egg connection chest to find nothing new before heading off to sleep at uppies.

This is a bit of a side note, but I want to talk about what could have happened to Phil's wings since this was discussed on the 13th due to Jaiden having her's out. To anyone who understands birds or avians, there are three possibilities of what could have happened. First, Wing binding, where something is used to bind the avian's wings to their body, preventing them from being used. This is the least likely option because Phil mentions wanting his wings fixed and having a balancing issue. So, something has to be wrong with his wings. Option 2, his wings were clipped, where the avian or bird's flight feathers are cut/clipped, preventing the bird or avian from being able to fly. It is a more likely option because it does mean something has happened to his wings themselves to prevent him from flying with them, but it is something fixable. Option 3: Phil's wings were permanently damaged, and he can't fly because of this. This option is the most extreme and would explain the balance issue best. However, the only way this would be true is if the Dream SMP is canon on the QSMP and the damage from Phil saving Wilbur carried over between servers. I suspect this is not the case, though, since generally, it is considered that damage like that does not carry over between servers (otherwise, Big Q would still have his Toothpick scar). Besides a few nods between characters, there is no indication that the Dream SMP is cannon to the QSMP.

Now, on to the 16th.

The day started out simple; everyone was getting on because an event was happening. And that day, Wilbur finally returned to the server after completing his months-long tour. However everyone was doing their best to not release what happened to the eggs to the man, including Phil, to give Will at least a little time of being happy. And so everyone met Wilbur, and there were apologies to Phil about the Hatuna Miku joke. Leading into everyone gathering at the spawn for the event.

Said event was a spy mission on a federation meeting inside the maze. So the server had to go through the poorly lit-up maze, and by the gods, chaos occurred! So many people got lost in the place, and during this time, Phil finally revealed to Wilbur that all the eggs were missing. This led Wil to leave the event because he was frustrated by the seeming lack of worry or work to find the eggs. Phil, though, continued with the event, letting Wilbur have time to understand the extent of how bad things are. And so the group entered the feneration meeting, with Tubbo's laptop completly crashing some time during this so poor man had to be told what happened the next day, where we learned 3 things.

1. The federation has no clue whatsoever happened to the eggs and are investigating the situation themselves to try and find the eggs. (as for why my best guess is to try and return order to the island because the residents without the eggs are... Dangerous.)

2. The federation did send Forever into the nether to investigate the eggs disappearance only for them to lose contact with him. But, they will be continuing their investigation by sending someone else in to continue where Forever left off and figure out what happened.

And last but not least 3. The federation released the minnyme mod, a mod that basically puts level-able Pikmin that look like their controller into the game (yes, that is my best way of describing them).

Side note, these tiny creatures are not meant to be a replacement for the eggs. And it looked like originally these creatures were meant to be given to the federation workers possibly to either help keep them safe or to increase their worker count.

Soon after the server members were found out and worked to escape, in the process they managed to steal the items needed to spawn the minnymes for themselves. After which the group escaped and the federation had to pull a coverup to make it seem like the island members were meant to gain the minnymes.

After this Phil meets up will Wilbur again who had finally realised the full extent of what was going on with the eggs and allowed Phil to fully explain the situation and everything they had discovered so far, as well as Phil explaining how he had gotten in contact with Cheyanne. In addition to this the two had found a water frame playing a specific song that Wilbur had used to find Tallulah after she got separated from him on their first day together. He then went on to copy the song down into a notebook to try and get a message to Tallulah.

Towards the end of this, Slime came and visited, and Phil revealed about the code(?) egg that Smile was hanging with, with Phil and Will following Slime so the man could reveal what happened. During this, I will state I had trouble keeping it together and watching the stream/vod due to the multiple minutes long s*x innuendo between Wilbur and Slime that even Phil was having trouble keeping it together for! This then led into an attempt at a comedy show between Slime, Will and Baghera involving the goldfish joke.

After this Phil and Wilbur went back to Will's house where they were joined by Cellbit for a bit as Will set up his message box to Tallulah before the musician asked for some time alone. After Phil and Celbit left they talked about what has been going on with the eggs and the pair decided to mostly not use the minnymes.

After this the pair met up with the others at the spawn where Phil had an out of character chat with Quackity that led to Phil having to put big Q's minnyme into a glass box because Q's stream or computer seemingly crashed.

After that Phil set off to go to bed for the night.

I hope this catches everyone up for when Phil returns after his vacation with his goddess Wife.

Have fun!

[nightcityace]

[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: SUNNY ]

[NICKNAME:]

Sunny: I guess technically Sunny was a nickname before it became official, but I've also been called Sunshine, Sunbeam, Ray of Sunshine… you can probably see the pattern. Interviewer: And what is your real name? Sunny: Sunny is my real name. Just because it might not be the first name I had doesn't mean it's not my real name.

[GENDER:]

None for me, thanks.

[STAR SIGN:]

Misty says I’m an Aquarius. I guess I never really put much thought into any of that, but she really enjoys it so that makes it fun for me too.

[HEIGHT:]

5’ 9”, but some of my boots make me a little taller. No platforms or anything though, I wouldn't be able to walk to save my life.

[ORIENTATION:]

Only interested in men, but I guess I don't really try to define myself often. Just queer in general is probably the best term I suppose.

[NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY:]

That's another one I never really think too much about. A lot of people tend to think my family are Nomads, but we’ve been here since before Night City was Night City. My… (counts on fingers) great-great-great grandparents actually bought our property back when California was still one state, so we’re about as local as you get. Before that I think someone came from New York and before that I don’t really know, all over Europe I think.

[FAVE FRUIT:]

Strawberries, not like synthetic ones or those over priced cloned ones, real strawberries. We managed to get a little section of them growing at home and nothing can compare. 

[FAVE SEASON:]

Probably spring. I love getting to watch everything sprout and bloom, even out in the desert. 

[FAVE FLOWER:]

Sunny: People usually expect me to say something cliche like sunflowers, but I genuinely love dandelions. Especially when they grow up out of cracks in pavement or sidewalks. It's proof there's still nature in the city, even when they try to hide it under all the concrete. They’re stubborn little flowers and they're perfect. Interviewer: Aren't dandelions weeds? Sunny: Only because someone wanted to sell people on the idea of a perfectly sterilized, useless, solid patch of grass which completely destroyed the biodiversity of most yards. They’re yellow, they're cute, I like them. Interviewer: Got it…

[FAVE SCENT:]

This is a hard one to describe, but do you know how sometimes you can kind of smell outside? Not like… exhaust and garbage obviously… but there's a certain smell that gets in your hair and clothes when you've been out in the wind and sun and you can just tell that's what it is.

[COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:]

Yes please, all of it.

[AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:]

Probably about 6 or 7 normally. I tend to wake up early after having to for most of my life, but I love going back to bed. I'll usually wake up about sunrise or earlier and go have a cup of coffee and check my plants to see if they need water and if Vik isn't up yet I'll scooch back under the covers and go right back to sleep for a few more hours. Plus naps, naps are great.

[DOG OR CAT PERSON:]

Chickens. Okay okay, I know obviously I can't have them in the city, but the farm is well outside the avian exclusion zone. Seriously, they're adorable. (Pulls out phone to show no less than 300 different pictures of chicks and chickens)

[DREAM TRIP:]

Honestly I don't know. I like being close to my family and being in NC, so I don't think I'd want to go anywhere long. I have some Nomad friends though so a trip with them might be fun, maybe somewhere with actual mountains since I really like climbing around the canyons and stuff we have out in the Badlands. 

[FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:]

Hmmm… I'm gonna go with Bugs Bunny. Both extremely cute and extremely chaotic, I respect that.

[NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH:]

I usually start with one or two, but I tend to run warm so by the time I wake up it's not uncommon for them all to be kicked down to the end of the bed or piled up on Vik’s side.

[RANDOM FACT:]

Sunny: About me or just like… a fact I like? Hm, how about: it's surprisingly easy to get a wild coyote into the front seat of a locked car. You wouldn't think so, but getting it out is actually much harder. Interviewer: Okay... That's slightly troubling... how about a fact about you? Sunny: I know how to get a wild coyote into the front seat of a locked car. 

This was so fun to do!! Thank you @dreamskug for tagging me!

I have a few other tag things I still need to do with Sunny, I swear I havent actually forgotten, I just have terrible time management... >.>

EDIT: oh dang I forgot to tag people D: I think most of my cp friends have been tagged already so I'll toss it to @wraithsoutlaws bc I want someone to have the audacity to interview Dagger :P

[ventisettestars]

DannyMay Day 10: Bones [ao3]

This is a continuation of my Fantasy AU. [part 1] [part 2]

Summary: Changes felt down to Danny’s bone as he spends time in Fae Realm.

Warning: Some light body horror and blood. Also I barely edited this, tho I did give it a once over. So sorry for typos and the like.

WC: 1,997

Kulning: herding call. A domestic Scandinavian music form, often used to call livestock (cows, goats, etc.) down from high mountain pastures where they have been grazing during the day. -Wikipedia

------

His realm. That was what the fae lady had said. “Welcome to your realm, my Lord.” 

“Lord?” Danny was a prince. It was almost reflexive to correct when mistitled. 

The fae misunderstood what he was confused about and powered on through. “Yes.You’re a Lord of Night. New leader of the Winter Wild Hunt. I’m here to help you with that transition. Poor Dear, you’re so human yet.”

“Um, yeah. Cause I am. A human. Always have been.” 

“Oh, not for the last few weeks you haven't. Your heart is a Fae heart, just stuck in some human flesh. You must have noticed.” She looked sad for him. 

Danny swallowed as he had noticed a few things. He blamed stress from his fight that he wasn’t sure was dreamed or not. But he hadn’t been noticing the chill in the morning. And the way food began to taste like ash. The way his skin felt too tight along his back. The-

“So, if- What happens now?”

She beamed. “First let's get you something to eat. You must be starving.” 

“I'm sure your food is the best around but- Isn’t Fae food cursed for humans to eat. Like a trap?” 

“Oh deary. Only for humans. You’ll be fine. I wouldn’t feed you anything that'd cause you harm. Come come.” She hurried, and Danny not knowing what else to do, followed. 

“And see, the thing about humans eating food here is very misunderstood. It doesn’t trap humans, but makes all human food taste like ash. So they'll want to come back and never leave.” The fae lady stopped to turn back for a moment. “We and humans have very different senses, you see. Taste being the easiest to lean into. Our drinks can do it too. Water here is so fresh, particularly in your region because it runs from the purest of snow, chilled with the sunless sky. Why, it’ll even mess with some of the summertime fae.”

Taking things one step at time, the lady continues talking about food in the realms. She also tells him he can call her the Lunch Lady. Names are, after all, so valuable. The only ones immune to being controlled by names are the Lords and Ladies of the Night, And the Kings and Queens of Day. Something about their connection runs so deeply in the realm that they are gifted a name they aren’t even aware of. Only the Mother knows of them, and she need not speak them to use them, nor would the Mother wish for anyone to learn them. So all other names become just titles and aliases. Though Danny figures he wouldn’t be giving his name to anyone here even if the Lunch Lady says it's safe. He would need to think of a new one. 

They arrived at a grand dining hall, and it shocked Danny how much it resembled a warden’s mess hall. 

“Why, does it look like a prison?” 

“Your predecessor committed a great crime and was in self appointed imprisonment. The realm mirrored his state, as it will shift to match yours as time passed. Why, the bars are practically all gone at this point. Being replaced with proper doors.”  

She sat Danny down, and began to prepare a dish for him. “Some of those around are buzzing with excitement since it’s our understanding you were a human princeling, so soon our land shall be grand, befitting your needs.” 

Danny looked at the food before him, and it was the best smelling food he’d smelt in weeks. Taking a bite didn’t disappoint. He inhaled the food, drinking from the water the glass that showed up. 

“There is more where that came from. Here, try this. It’s probably your first time having it, seeing as its a fowl that can only be caught in the land of summer.” 

Danny looked confused at the little avian thing that was roasted and placed before him. Trusting her, he took a wing, and bit into it. The meat was tender, not a bit of resistance, it was heaven. He took bite after bite, then bit into the bone. It almost startled him as it didn’t give much resistance like he’d thought it would. Then he noticed it wasn’t the bones that were delicate, it was his teeth had changed. 

In place of the teeth he'd known for 14 years, well probaby only 3 since he'd lost the last of his baby teeth, were sharp, wolflike teeth. It wasn't just his canines, but the surrounding teeth as well. Reformed to fit a predator.

He shuddered as he bit down again. It was delicious, and felt soothing. Calming an itch he didn't know he had. And he didn't seem to bite himself, his body was already used to them. Why fight it? 

Looking at the Lunch Lady, Danny figured he had many more changes ahead of him. 

-----

Time didn't exactly pass. Not as he was used too. It was always the apex of a solar eclipse. Which he thought was odd but it was explained to him that his kingdom was that of the daytime night. The moment the moon over powers the sun and the nocturnal creature wake during the day. 

It's why he was a lord of night. Why he was of the Sluagh Sidhe Court. 

He was assured it was normal. Each of the rulers' kingdoms rested in a single time, when they were each at the peak of their powers.

Powers that Danny was starting to grow into. After a few sleeps it started with his appearance only. Hair going white, skin blue, ears longer. Once his eyes flooded to the pitch black of night from the corners, filled with stars, did he start to feel like a true fae. 

The moment the sky reached his iris was when the magic inside burst. It was tapping into the source of his power, connecting to the phase of the moon when he heard the song. 

It rang through his bones down to the merrow. Calling him in a language he'd never known, but understood he was to follow it. Nothing else mattered but the kulning song.

It led him through his lands, his connection to them keeping him from losing his way. Later even the thought of getting lost in his tundra would be absurd. But right now. Now his only focus was the song. 

It led him through another's territory. He didn't feel unwelcome, but he knew next time he would need to be invited in. 

He was almost there, his bones ached insisting he wasn't moving fast enough. His shoulders twitched in places that shouldn't have been able too. 

Every bit of his foreign body insisted flying would be faster than the pace he was running, even if he'd never been able to run this fast or this long before in his human life. He longed to fly. 

Running into a forest, through an entrance only accessible when She wished it, he was close. Then to the clearing, where he came to a stop as the call stopped.

Around him in a near perfect U where 7 other fae, and Her. 

His bones, his magic, his soul yearned, screamed in silence through his blood. Mother. 

She was who the other fae revered as a Goddess of the Realm. The being who will die each winter by his hands, to be reborn in the hands of the spring queen. 

She was the only one on this plan that could command him, and he would gladly listen. 

“My youngest Lord. Dearest Lordling.” She spoke in several, no, all the languages at once. She reached out to him. “Let me get a good look at you.” It was once her hand neared him that he realized how small he was to her. He was able to climb into her hand and she held him with ease. It was also when he noticed the other fae were actually airborne. How he wanted to join.

She smiled. “Say my name, and you shall join them, Lordling.” 

Words left his mouth. A name, Her name. It wasn’t a language he’d known, but he knew what it meant. 

His Mother brought him to her face, and with a gentle kiss to his forehead, pain ripped from his back. It started with bones, then muscles and tendons, skin and feathers. Silver liquid dripped down from his outfit and feathers as the pain subsided. Danny looked at his hands that got some of the runoff from his wings growing out, absently wondering before he realized it was his blood. He bled silver. 

He looked back up to her. “I, ah sorry I got blood on you…” He didn’t know if it was in proper form to speak to her, but he figured, if he could talk to his mother the Queen of Amity, then he could also talk to his mother the Goddess of the Realms. 

She laughed. “Worry not. I knew it would be the case. It’s part of the process. Tell me, what is it you wish to be called and address your siblings.” 

Danny stood in her hand, all had left Mother’s side and flew in a line to get a better view. Danny spread his wings, but didn’t take off flying. His body told him it was too soon, much as he longed. 

“I am Phantom.” The words he needed flowed easily, aware of the titles that mattered from his few lessons. “A Sluagh Sidhe Lord of Night, Master of the Winter Wild Hunt. And Heir Prince of the Human Realm’s Amity Kingdom.”

One of the fae flinched at that last title. It was enough for Phantom to notice. He looked familiar. Before Phantom could dwell on it, his Mother addressed from behind. 

“For all the joy of this occasion, there is a grave matter to address. You have inherited all your predecessor’s boons, and thus, you must also bear his crimes, though not his punishment. Know that this pains me.”

The white ashes that created Phantom floated from his chest. They wove into chains, passing into her hands, then emerging green and wrapping around his legs. Pulling taught then snapping. 

“These chains bind to bone. Always to be present as a reminder. None shall pass judgment and claim their words as mine. Lest they be imprisoned until one strong enough sends them to their ends. Now. Join your siblings.”

Phantom didn’t need to be told twice before spreading his wings and taking to the air. 

----

“And that's it for the tour. I've shown you all the places safe for humans.” Phantom grinned, the tour covered some of his favorite rooms. One being the observatory and another being a game room. Both were additions he added as his predecessor was more occupied with playing warden of the realms laws then enjoying anything. 

“Dude, that was like 6 rooms and a few halls.” Tucker had been taking detailed notes in his spellbook. 

“Yeah. Safe. For. Humans. Once you learn the rules I can show you more. Till then, I’m keeping it to just those rooms.” A small floating light wisped next to Phantom, jingling something, then floated off. “Well, it looks like it's human’s bedtime. I’ll walk you to the gate, then I’ve got a meeting with the Summer Lady and-.”

Sam interrupted, grabbing Phantom’s arm to stop him in his tracks. “Can we come? You have to let us come.”

“I mean.” He thought for a moment. “Sure, but it's underwater. I can spell you protections, but if anything goes wrong and you swallow some water, it can’t be undone. Fae water will be the only thing you would be able to drink after.”

“It'd be worth it. Plus you’d hook us up with the fae water, right?” At the lack of response from Phantom, Tucker looked nervous. “Right?”

With a deep sigh. “Of course I would. It's really not worth it. But okay. Let's get you both ready. I’m going to have to go over some things on the way.”

             Notes:        

Sooo some fun behind-the-scenes stuff. Originally The Mother was going to have a name, but then I found out the name I was going to use was basically a British Man's OC, so felt rude to use in context. So now she is just The Mother, Goddess of the Realm. Basically, take sentient ghost zone core and get the Mother.

Secondly, you see that art. >:3 I got so many plans for them all.

And last, I plan on putting all the Fantasy AU stuff in it's own fic in june, but no idea what to call it. I was sort of thinking "Tir na nog" buuut not sure. I'm open to suggestions.