#not because Dream is avian or anything

[rat-rosemary]

Techno would have Dream perch on his shoulders like a parrot

[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.

[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

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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

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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.

[bloodyinkandquill]

Venomshank x hawk-hybrid pet Reader

ok i actually asked katz-ke for help on this one because like the last one i had no ideas sorry requester, however they helped and gave me some good ideas that definitely gave me more motivation and ideas for this one in general, so thanks again katz!!! you’re amazing i adore your stuff id anyone here doesn’t know who they are go check them out, anyways onto the hcs

- How did you end up here? No genuinely you went from a pet to a deity to instead dating said deity, you’re out here living some simps dream

- You’ve always had an unusual power, hybrids weren’t rare, winged hybrids were on the rarer side, usually only stemming from receiving a blessing from one of the deities, but you were, and on top of being an avian you also could transform into an actual hawk, which was basically unheard of, you also had a rather unique coloration when in bird form, darker then your average hawk with an interesting pattern on your wings

- Which is how you ended up one day in your hawk form, chilling and enjoying being a bird, what? It’s nice to escape the responsibilities of adult life for a little while and you can eat bread a shit, you were chilling when suddenly another bird flew up next to you, at first you thought it was a crow but that didn’t seem right, a raven? No it wasn’t that either, it seemed an odd mix of both corvids but larger and, almost a dark green rather then black, but living in Crossroads you see odd shit a lot so you didn’t dwell on it

- Well that bird seemed to want you to follow it a few minutes later and it lead you to a dropped container of fries, aka the jackpot, you happily started eating them but noticed the other bird wasn’t doing anything, you shrugged it off, probably just already ate its fill and was letting you have yours, after eating you did some sort of appreciative dance, you weren’t fluent in bird language let alone weird corvid language so you hoped it conveyed your thankfulness, you were about to fly off when suddenly the bird changed into a demon, no that’s not it, into one of the Swords

- Holy shit, was all you could think as he scooped you up and started flying away with you but now in his demonoid form, alright this was happening, you must have intrigued him as a bird if he was taking you somewhere, you just let it happen and pretended to still be a regular old bird, maybe if you seemed normal he’d get bored and let you go

- Nope you were now in his temple in a, rather fancy, bird cage, this was not on your weekend itinerary, for a few days it went that he or one of his temple workers would feed you and give you toys and enrichment, you could sort of fly around the cage but it wasn’t big enough to transform back and therefore display you were not a bird, least Venomshank seemed kind enough

- After a few days stuck inside the cage he appeared and said, basically talking to himself, that he should let you out for a good fly, the second he took you out of that cage you transformed back into your demon form with an almost traumatized look on your face as you turned to look at him and his horrified expression, after a conversation he was apologetic about taking you as a pet since he didn’t really you were a demon not an actual bird, you said it was fine but gods you missed having arms

- From there you agreed to live at his temple, you had nowhere better to live and he was offering a free room in exchange for taking care of the birds that resided in the gardens surrounding it, this was one of his smaller temples but it was surrounded by gardens and therefore lots of birds, he’d stop by and check in with you and the rest of the happenings every once in a while, he slowly started to check in more and more until one day suddenly you were dating, you weren’t complaining you just weren’t fully sure how you got there honestly

- Oh my gods you never knew the wonder of preening, you’d never gotten close enough to another demon to preen your wings when in demon form, and definitely not close enough to a bird to preen you in bird form, however now that you had someone who had wings in demonoid form and could also become a bird, he knew exactly how to preen you in both forms and it was heaven, you of course preened him back which he was thankful for, with not seeing Sword as much as when he was a kid he didn’t get a chance to be preened as often so he was so thankful to have someone to help him preen again

- Maybe you didn’t quite have the corvid bird brain of gifting shiny things but you still did have a slight bird brain to the point that you did enjoy collecting and gifting small trinkets and sparklies, and Venomshank being some weird version of a corvid had that instinct but stronger, so you both end up gifting each other small things you find, especially when you go flying together in bird form, which is basically your go-to date, if either of you notice something interesting while flying you’ll dive down and grab it, give it to the other who turns demonoid for a moment to put it in their pocket then back to bird form, luckily the items don’t disappear neither of you know where any of your stuff like clothes or items go when you go bird form but you mutually agreed not to question it

- With the flying dates you also enjoy flying through one of the regions or preferably Crossroads and finding the tallest building around and flying onto the roof to look at all the beautiful lights at night, maybe you’ll switch back to demonoid form but sometimes you prefer to stay as birds where everything looks so much brighter and shinier to your bird eyes, its beautiful and it’s nice knowing that you two are maybe the only two people to ever see the views with a demon brain but bird eyes

- With living in his temple you went from a regular room to the best room in the temple, technically speaking it’s supposed to be his room but before you he almost never spent enough time in that temple to need to use the room, so it became yours and his, which does mean it’s full of a few of his things, which with your slight bird brain only means one thing, nesting, on the floor you set up a nest big enough for both of you to fit in full of pillows, blankets, clothes, and some of the items you gifted each other, and on the desk and actual bird nest, slightly comfier, still sized to fit both of you but this time in bird form, it’s less used but still nice to have

- Since he’s well, Venomshank one of the swords he has to leave for occasionally weeks at a time, which makes you more thankful for the nest to have something with his scent and feathers in for when your missing him, once he returns from his duties you’ll be in that nest for at least the next two days together, not that you mind but if anyone walks into the room they’ll see a mess of feathers and the occasional body parts making so many freaking cooing sounds

- Speaking of cooing sounds both of you make bird noises in and out of bird form, it’s more common in bird form but it’s still not uncommon to coo or squawk in demonoid form, you coo and trill with each other, make squawks and chirps, sometimes it sounds like a gods damn bird sanctuary when you’re both around, you also can sort of communicate with the bird noises which is nice as well

- He gives you a necklace or earring, with just one of his feathers, it takes you a moment to realize it’s his shiniest best feather, not quite a proposal but more of a promise ring, you wear it with pride and do the same finding your best feather to give him in exchange, he puts it in his hat and somehow when in bird form you now both have a feather, not attached to you but buried into your feathers so it doesn’t fall out, of each other’s, he has one of your hawk feathers and you have one of his… corvid feathers, neither of you understand the logistics of how that works but again you have up questioning it

hope this is good again thanks so much katz-ke for the help!! this was fun to write once i got into the groove of it honestly, alright i made a deal with myself once i wrote this id let myself reread a fanfic i love so im off to do that toodles

[agirlandherquill]

the fifteenth day of writemas

day 15 has arrived! this post comes to you shortly after my return home from my london trip - 13 hours, at Christmas, whew! but phantom of the opera was GORGEOUS, safe to say my obsession is as rampant as ever, and because we only have less than ten days to go, i thought why not bestow upon you all three EXTRA prompts today? of course they'll be phantom themed, what do you take me for? i cannot wait to see what you all come up with!

the rules, for those of you that are new or simply need a refresher: choose a prompt from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared! and of course, tag me in your responses because i cannot wait to see them!

p.s - the game is open to all, as discussed in the invitation post - which, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, is still being monitored for newcomers and late additions - all are welcome to the game!

now for the part you're all here to see - the prompts!

Prompt List:

Dialogue Prompts:

"Anything is better than this. Death is better than this. Better than you."

"I wish I never met you. And you regret me too. I see it."

"Save yourself. Not me. Not anyone else. You. You are all that matter."

"Trust me. Trust me. Trust. Me. That's all I ask of you."

Setting Prompts:

An alley

A bonfire

A bridge

A stage

Narration Prompts:

She shattered her hopes and her dreams into pieces, and she took the jagged edges between her fingers and held them close to her heart, they would serve as a scarring reminder of what would never be done, of what she would never become.

He whistled to the darkness, and for the first time in his life, the unknown whistled back.

The roses passed from hand to hand only grew more bloody, as thorns pricked palms, as blood was mingled, the beautiful weapon became a tool, a reminder that even beauty was not sacred, it was now shared like the blood between them.

He crawled along the floor, heaving his aching body along to get to her, moving slowly, fitfully, to brush his fingers along the hem of her dress.

Feeling Prompts:

The prickle of branches against skin

The anticipation of darkness

The break of a bone

The danger of obsession

(because i'm insanely overeager, this post like its predecessor will be going live at 00:01 UK Time, apologies to those of you that receive it early but hey, early presents are still pretty good presents :) )

eagerly awaiting your creations, and as always, happy holidays!

~ A Girl And Her Quill

the invitations have been received so here you all are, i bestow upon you the gift of writemas! p.s if you want to be added to the tag list, interact with this post <3

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[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.

[nbofvoid]

One Painful Memory

Written for the dreamnblade christmas event @alterdnbweek is holding this year.

Day 8 Prompts: Nightmares; Lazy Day

Oops. Forgot to post this yesterday. Well, a day late isn't the end of the world.

**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**

Techno is the best thing that could have happened to him after Pandora. He's perfect at dealing with Dream's meltdowns, flashbacks, and nightmares that wake them both up. He always has a perfect response ready for him even if it is just grabbing a blanket and shoving them both out to sit in the snow for a while. He's able to figure out exactly when Dream is getting overwhelmed and takes care of the situation. He'll meet his syndicate members out in the snow instead of letting them into the house when Dream is having a day he can't stand being around other people. It could just be a bad day in general and Techno just knows.

Even though most days are bad days. Really, horrible days.

Dream hooks his chin over his knees, watching Techno as he shows Ranboo various stances and corrects mistakes that have developed. It's not something they would be able to do inside, but he can't help the thoughts that insist Dream is interfering in Techno's life because he can't get over what happened in Pandora. Techno's clearly gotten over the whole thing already. Why does Dream still need the comfort of a familiar presence and assurance that he's no longer in the obsidian cell? Why does he have to still deal with the night terrors when he should have moved on already?

Maybe he should bring up moving out of Techno's house. Finally give Techno the space to do what he wants with his life and isn't stuck babysitting Dream.

He blinks as the sun shifts, shining directly into his eyes. He rubs them and squints out in time to see Ranboo and Nikki waving goodbye below. Ranboo teleports them both out of range, popping back up a good few hundred blocks away from Techno's cabin. Phil is still there, talking with Techno, though he's wearing what Dream is pretty sure are traveling clothes so it might be a simple discussion about what needs to be done or not while the avian is away.

Techno gives a single wave as Phil lifts into the air, soaring out of range almost as fast as Ranboo teleported away. he turns back to the cabin and Dream scrambles form the window ledge to the couch where the abandoned blanket nest and book options are laying where he abandoned them.

It's ridiculous. He knows that Techno won't care if he moved around and did things without asking for permission, but he just can't get rid of the fear that maybe there will be something that triggers that. Even with Techno's assurances that he'll bring up anything well before that happens.

He can hear the heavy footsteps of the snow boots entering, landing with a thump on the ground, then the shuffling as Techno starts moving around downstairs alongside the heavy lumbering of Steve going somewhere. It becomes pretty clear that he's doing something down there and not planning to come up and Dream hesitates, glancing around at the room around him. It would be a lot more interesting to watch Techno work on whatever he is doing than staying inside this room where the heat of the blankets is starting to get suffocating.

Silently, he unwraps himself and descends the ladder. A quick peak shows Techno in the kitchen, chopping up various vegetables and placing them in separate bowls. There's a bottle with a familiar dark liquid and combined with the pan he can see on the stove, Dream can't help the small noise of excitement that escapes him.

"Yeah, I'm making a stir fry. Not planning on any meat tonight, that good?" Techno asks, a light chuckle clear in his voice.

He nods, knows that chat will let Techno know as he drifts closer. Techno's always been amazing with a blade, but he's positive hardly anyone else know that skill is also applied to more mundane things. He perches on the counter he's pretty sure Techno won't need and delights in watching the rest of the meal be prepared.

They eat it there in the kitchen, Techno talking between bites about what all everyone was doing in the syndicate meetup today. Dream doesn't contribute much. His throat has been sore today and just being able to listen to Techno talk, it soothes the prickles that he hadn't noticed were there. They were never given the chance to have long conversation like this in Pandora. Any talking was met with punishments no matter what the conversation was.

Dream takes over washing the dishes, shooing Techno away with as harsh of an insistence as he can manage. Techno stays. Keeps talking though the topic has shifted to how the check on the various animals went. Which of them are going to need a more through checkup, how the ones that were injured are getting on, and it eases his tension a bit more. Quiets those voices that were insisting Dream should leave the area without looking back.

Techno leans next to him, "I'm thinking it's time to wind down for the night. You good with that?"

He nods, ambling in a random path around the first floor as Techno tosses another log into the fireplace down here, grabs a book, and plops down next to Steve who doesn't even react to the weight of a full grown piglin against his side.

Dream hangs out down there for a bit but eventually climbs back up to the room Techno let him choose when they first got back here. It doesn't have the most decoration, but he has added random things Techno handed him and he liked.

He crawls under his covers, shifting around under them to find the perfect arrangement so he doesn't get overheated. His eyes close and he hopes tonight isn't going to have he jerking awake from a nightmare.

------______------______------______------______------______------

Dream jolts awake, breath caught in his throat as his eyes jerk around. His heart isn't racing like he had a nightmare, yet he's wide awake and staring into the gentle darkness around his room for seemingly no reason. Something is still crawling up his spine, insisting that there is something wrong.

It's not an uncommon feeling, unfortunately, so he shoves his blankets to the side, sets his feet on the floor only to jerk them up and slide them right into the slippers he's thankful Techno insisted he needed. His door swings open silently and he follows that silence out into the hall. He's not going to be able to start relaxing until he's checked that nothing is wrong around them. Sleep isn't even a possibility, but he might be able to get a fire set up on the first floor with Steve and read one of the books Techno keeps suggesting.

Only to pause before he takes more than two steps out of his room. His head tilts. Swivels to stare at Techno's closed door.

It was quiet, but he swears-

Techno's door is just as silent opening as Dream's and as soon as he can peak inside, his impossible thought is confirmed. Techno is curled into a tight ball on top of his nest, arms covering his head in a way that has Dream's chest aching because of how small Techno looks there. He's never, ever seen Techno not look like he can handle anything that's happening around them.

Right now, he looks exactly as small as Dream feels when he can't do something for the stupid reason of being stuck in Pandora.

There's another small, barely audible whimper and Dream finds himself slipping into the room. Drifting up to the nest and crouching next to it. He hesitates as he looks down at Techno, unsure what to do.

Techno's never needed his help dealing with this sort of thing. Maybe he should go off of what he remembers about piglin culture?

Slowly, his hand reaches out to rest on Techno's side. The other tenses, freezes for a horrifying second where Dream thinks he screwed things up, before the tension bleeds away with a faint sigh. Dream shuffles closer, presses his legs against Techno's back as he rubs small circles into his side. That helps even more and one of the arms covering Techno's head pulls away enough Dream can run his other hand over the bit he can reach.

Dream isn't sure how long he's there pressing against Techno and running hie fingers through thick pink hair, Just that as he keeps doing that, Techno's face smooths out, the tension leaves, and the nearly imperceptible sounds Techno is letting out peter to a stop.

His own eyes are growing heavy again, tiredness seeping back into him and it's not impossible for him to keep doing this as he lays down instead of sitting up. He shifts, curled more around Techno's head than his body as he keeps running his hand over Techno's head and starting to hum what he thinks is a lullaby.

**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**~~~~~~~**

AU Notes:

this is the first time dream saw techno even hinting at having some kind of ill effect after they left pandora. this is mainly because techno already has experience recovering from tramatic experiences and is using that experience to help himself and provide a safe space for dream.

the syndicate are all aware of the fact dream is there, they've all sworn to not tell anyone, though and are willing to work with what techno gives them. for different reasons, but they follow what he says.

hope you enjoyed!

[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.

Summary: 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.

[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.”

[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

[aviancataclysm]

icdx loredump but 50% in the form of rp screenshots because there is no way i am writing a new post about it + they will Not talk about it in character either

starting with a conversation between avian (cube oc) and the two grandpa demons

that led up to icy silently disappearing back to their room, and cata noticing theyre gone and immediately knowing that something Bad is happening. (tw for depiction of panic attack + implied suicidal ideation below)

ALSO I JUST REALIZED MY DISPLAY/PROFILE THEME IS ALSO ICDX RN. WHOOPS? SORRY FOR POTENTIAL CONFUSION. I'M THE NARRATOR IN THESE SCREENSHOTS.

the korean translates to "they're all gone".

they then enjoy some chocochips together. then back to serious

the next day.

icdx goes up to my hacker oc who has the ability to delete levels off the servers (but sworn to never use it ever again)

...

you see where this is going.

end of screenshots.

---

highly recommend checking out this video detailing the history of the ice carbon series as it heavily ties into the lore i wrote for them.

here's a tldr of the important things:

roadbose wanted to, quoting him, "fix his past". thus he cut contact with everyone trying to dig into the history of the deleted levels especially titan x.

ice carbon fantasy, an auto level, faced backlash because the community back then wanted him to make more extreme demons ever since icdx's release. it was deleted before it was finished.

ice carbon chaos was released before icdx, but it was pretty much completely ignored by the community. it was deleted after it was uploaded.

and here is the lore bits i have for some extra context:

my hcs for icy is that they, alongside the rest of the ice carbon series, used to live in a "mansion" of sorts owned by roadbose.

they were a hack-verified level, which means that they didn't get to spend time properly learning how to deal with players and others alike, having to face the real world before they even knew what's going on, figuring out everything by trial and error. lots of error.

when roadbose quit the game and deleted most of the levels in the series, icdx was there to witness it. the mass deletion. they do not want to think about it.

occasionally, the ghosts of these levels long gone come back to haunt them in their dreams.

they have been pretty much alone for the rest of their time here, and even though zust survived, they did not want to see anything related to their family. (start of the avoidance coping mechanism.) so they never got into contact with zust again, perhaps ever.

they faced a lot of backlash initially. then a brief period of fame. then they met cataclysm, and they became best friends. he is the only friend they ever considered themselves having.

they never really cared about the top 1 position, however when they dropped down to insane demon in ratings, they felt that some sort of "burden"was finally lifted and that gave them the excuse needed to completely socially disappear. this sent cata into a period of severe depression, before he eventually thought he got over it... and before they decided to randomly return to his life out of nowhere.

now they are among one of the most hated insane demons in terms of enjoyability. they pretend and act like they don't care about that. and the nightmares still come back sometimes.

[quackity1999]

< Purpled topples off, ears flattened and coughing. His second pair of arms tangles in his hoodie as he struggles to pry them free and regain control under Quackity, poorly struggling to throw him off. >

i’m a piece of shit!!!!? you blew up my house—- you blew up my house and here i am helping you!! what the fuck is wrong with you!!?

‹ He snaps his head around when he can’t get Quackity off and bites down on his arm. The muffled noise that follows sounds like a blurred "fuck you", and he sacrifices all manner of accuracy or focus in favour of lashing out. Blood in his teeth, he coughs out, >

i want to go home! i want to go home and instead i’m stuck here in this loud—- loud—- city and i hate it here i hate you you smell like feathers you smell weird and taste like dust and i i stupid stupid stupid

< Another blunt claw at Quackity that looks more pathetic than effective now. He’s desperately scrambling, somehow his voice coming faster than where he’s trying to get free. >

stupid

—- 🪻🛸 purpled

[ it's weird, because quackity is a talker before anything else. he's not like dream or technoblade or anyone who can confidently sidesweep the fuck out of whoever croses them. but in the midst of all his neurons and wires getting all tangled and redirected to something so instinctive— quackity finds himself feeling almost more agile.

sure, it'd be better to have his axe, but this isn't a situation that calls for it.

the avian has purpled somehow flipped so that quackity's got his knee shoved against the other's lower stomach, swooping wings flared out in all their golden terror. it's swift as all of quackity's ex-lover's rings collectively slam into purpled's jaw; merciless. ]

this was NEVER about you, purpled! jesus, how fucking dense do you have to be? you're crying like a bitch on the floor of my office— when you offered this in the first place! i don't even want your fucking help, you get that?

i don't want people to see me like this. i don't want people to find out how or where i nest, i don't want people picking up my fucking feathers when schlatt only ripped them out to wear them! i don't— i don't want to fucking deal with this stupid— humiliating fucking avian shit BY MYSELF, OKAY?

[ prev. ] [ next. ]

[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.)

[agirlandherquill]

the twelfth day of writemas

day 12, phew! christmas break has finally arrived, for me at least, and that means i have nothing but time now, which is strange, really its very odd to be able to do whatever i want without a deadline hanging over me, but time means i can write, and who knows? i might finally participate in the game myself, we shall see, but for now i cannot wait to see what you all come up with!

the rules, for those of you that are new or simply need a refresher: choose a prompt from the list, write something and share your creation with the rest of writeblr, and share the game with others, because as we all know writing is a gift and it deserves to be shared! and of course, tag me in your responses because i cannot wait to see them!

p.s - the game is open to all, as discussed in the invitation post - which, if you'd like to be added to the tag list, is still being monitored for newcomers and late additions - all are welcome to the game!

now for the part you're all here to see - the prompts!

Prompt List:

Dialogue Prompts:

"You don't love me. You can't. Because I love you, that's how this works. Not the other way around. You are meant to hate me."

"Help me, if you want to do anything else for me, you can help."

"I cannot do this alone. I will try until my final breath, but I need you too."

Setting Prompts:

A tavern

A dream

A dining room

Narration Prompts:

The emptiness in their eyes hurt, there was no recognition, no respect, nothing close to love. It was though they saw a stranger.

He shut his eyes, willing his mind to rid the image seared into his very being, to forget the blatant betrayal he had stumbled into.

The heartbeat beat in their bare palm, dripping dark, dripping bloody. Even out of its cage, the organ beat. It was admirable. It was beautiful.

Feeling Prompts:

The hesitation of touch

The crushing of disappointment

The softness of snow

(because i'm insanely overeager, this post like its predecessor will be going live at 00:01 UK Time, apologies to those of you that receive it early but hey, early presents are still pretty good presents :) )

eagerly awaiting your creations, and as always, happy holidays!

~ A Girl And Her Quill

the invitations have been received so here you all are, i bestow upon you the gift of writemas! p.s if you want to be added to the tag list, interact with this post <3

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