#hybrid bitty

[wildshadowtamer]

I’ll get around to posting my art on my actual art blog i promise

Even though their all grown up, they still love hearing their dad read them bedtime stories. this is one of King’s favourite books, one i read him when i first got him: Peekaboo With Fluffy Bunny.

I always forget Prince is the same age as his sister- and matured first- cuz hes so smol compared to his massive family (1ft tall compared to his 6′5ft dad)

(king may get another post soon about some New Members joining, wink nudge)

King bitty by @vex-bittys, Prince and Princess by me

[panie-wanie-dean-bean]

My masterlist!

Hello there, quite a lot of you now isn't there? I'm Evan, and this is my basement. We're all having a tea party down here but I'm afraid I can't let you leave, sorry :) This is an 18+ tea party though so no entry unless you're 18 or above, no exceptions

I will say this here, If you do not have your age or age range in your bio I will block you. I do not want minors on my blog, period, please respect that

I used to basically only write for the SDJ fandom but that has since lost it's spark. I have left the masterlist for it up but if you're excited for the next part of cult/lovely leeches then I am so sorry

I write for yanderes so expect some dark, usually sexual, content. If you can not handle that type of content please go read your smut somewhere else

I will not write for: Pregnancy, babies, or children. This isn't refiring to anything sexual, I just can't write about these subjects, period

Here are my more specific masterlist links

My SDJ Masterlist

My OC Masterlist

My Genshin Masterlist

And now that I am offically multi-fandom, here are the things I'll write for:

Creepypasta/Marble Hornets/Everyman Hybrid

Genshin Impact

Welcome Home

Stardew Valley

Fnaf (games only)

My own OC's (please ask me about them, I'll kiss you on the lips)

[shadows-bitty-fun]

What could be better than the sun shining, most of the bitties away to some corner to have a quiet moment, hot chocolate for anyone who wishes to grab some... And two little noodles, playing on the ground under careful watch of either their parents or their uncle who is very careful in watching them!

That is.... Until he isn't.... And the little wiggly noodles see something... For not being very old, the twins are rather fast at moving. And still small enough to have... Many.... Hiding places...

Oh dear!

(Just a little something for now! I wanna get back to sharing stories with all my lovely bitties as well as the twins, and I hope to be able to do just that! But, for now, have the twins playing in a ray of sun!)

(Chain Lamia's are by @vex-bittys do go check them out. Also babies are not asleep this time, some squeals can be let out ;) )

[smallestapplin]

(Finished up the little fluff dabble, as Fun as Emmet finding little hybrid Lopunny would be, I’m garbage at writing Canon characters so I think I’ll hold on to my idea of that first meeting and send it to you as a request when your requests are open again~ hint hint tho, ingo was keeping him as much a secret from you and he was keeping you from Emmet.)

You sit perched on a low branch of a tree, behind the large hybrid alpha Zoroark of all things that had started to court you. It was well… admittedly a rocky start; first with the whole dropping a dead Stantler at the entrance of your burrow that scared you to screaming thinking it was a threat (it wasn’t apparently that was how carnivorous hybrids showed interest in a potential mate), then the scenting something you had to kinda get use to as… well usually as a small herbivore the last thing you wanted was a strong smell on you and lastly thee um… well the size difference. You were literally half his height him somewhere around ten feet and yourself around five.

It wasn’t an impossible arrangement though, actually with a bit of communication things were going really well, he went out of his way now to bring you fruit and berries from deeper in the territory, you’d found out with his scenting not only did it hide your scent from potential predators but it also scared the buggers off long before they got into visual ranges making you feel all the safer in your little peaceful corner and finally well the size you were learning to work around.

Sat up high so you could reach his head well Ingo was sitting you introduced the much larger hybrid to a form of bonding common to Lopunny hybrids. Grooming, with great care blunted but hardened claws meant for digging rather then hunting worked starting at the nape of Ingo’s neck, moving up towards his scalp, gently finger combing his silver white hair until from root to tip you could run your fingers through the silky strands without hitting a knot, from there you softly started to gather the strands and tied them up in a bun. You rather liked the longer style buuut Ingo rather seemed intent on cutting it back to a ‘professional’ style whatever that meant.

teasingly well going back over your work you scratched behind his ears making him yip and go red despite how his tail took off. It was cute and despite the slight pout he didn’t stop you, giving you alllll the free reign you needed to start playing with his puppy soft ears, resting your head between them you reach up and gently take one between to fingers to stroke softly, it really doesn’t take much for you to notice him squirm from a mix of his shyness and a little embarrassment. To try and bring him back from it you puff a little air at the tip of his ear making it flick well he gave an annoyed bark from the sudden switch in teasing.

“That doesn’t feel like grooming!” he huffed it still always surprised you how loud he was… even when he was seemingly trying to be quiet.

You hum tilting your head and sucking your lips before stopping after a soft ‘pop’ that makes both his ears flick “really?” you ask innocently “are you sure? Maybe you’re just not use to how a Lopunny grooms hair.”

And then you start on an ear again this time nipping the end to hold between your lips to set him off a bit more.

It worked as he seemed to have enough of the teasing and all at once he was wrapping an arm around your torso and pulled you off the branch and into his lap, all the while you giggled and play squirmed like you planned to zip away.

He tightened his hold and gave a growl of warning, his tail still betraying him though as the happy wag waved any true threat.

“oh, well in that case dear let me return the favor then!” He gave his version of a smile that silly little kitty like smile were somehow his mouth still mostly stayed a frown but the ends managed to curl up slightly like a wonky W.

Then he shifted his hold so both of his large hands could cup your face, one was used to keep your head still well the other moved to one of your very long lopped ears which he began to pet or stroke or rub between two fingers, it felt nice, the same way a back rub or head pat did, but you’d damned if you planned to take the payback without a fight!

You wiggled and squeaked and more then once had to get him to switch holds so you couldn’t manage to wiggle away from him to start another playful game of chase. Eventually he had to give up on your ears despite how much he enjoyed the texture or how they were long enough he could loop them around and through fingers.

Your escape attempts where simply to much and he was forced to scoop you up all at once pinning your legs to his torsos but allowing you to sit on an arm and rest your hands on his shoulders so you could lean forward and rest your forehead to his in a tender moment before he took the opportunity to steal a kiss.

You allowed the one to your lips but you’re quick as ever to cradle both hands against the back of his jawline slowly curling and unfurling the digits to give him a soft scratch before peppering his face in kisses, if he’d had freckles he’d have sworn you were attempting to kiss each individual one, he’d have let you too but he fumbled with being the center of attention to long and would always nip back to make sure you got your fair share.

This time it started with a soft nip to your chin, which turned to a kiss along your jaw line and down your neck until he got to just above your collarbone and swallowed hard before opening his mouth and resting his teeth where he new a bond mark should go.

It reminded you of one more thing, the marks, herbivores well most small prey types didn’t mark each other it seemed to be another predatory thing and a bit risky for you to allow.

But you couldn’t help but look over him, it had been a few months and by far he was the best partner you’d ever had attempt to court you. He was kind and thoughtful, willing to listen well not being a complete doormat.

And so so gentle, he could so easily fold you in half or pin you down and just force things to go at his own pace bit he didn’t he never did, even just now he let you squirm and laugh and have your fun instead of just ending it to prove a point and do what he wanted.

He was a good man and you trusted him from the bottom of your heart “Go ahead.” You whispered softly.

“I want to be with you, I know you’ll take the best care of me and we’ll be happy together.”

And just like that there was a swift sharp pain to your shoulder… but surprisingly not as lasting as you expected as he ran his tongue over the fresh mark cleaning it up.

You’d give a squeak as he got up, shifting his hold so you where more succure but never moving his head from your shoulder. You’d realize quickly he was walking to the nearest cave, over your courting period he’d started to make when like a over night area, so he could stay or visit longer. Now though as you asked he remarked, it was better to keep you close until the mark healed over… that and well it was best he made sure it stuck.

You wonder momentarily if maybe you’d bitten off more then you could chew but the love struck look in his eyes turns you to putty all to quickly.

Bitty

HOW DO I MAKE A BELOVED LIST CAUSE I HAVE A FEELING-

Ingo in general is such a sweet perfect partner.

Sure you maybe a fancy bulge inspector

He just loves and adores you and is determined to show you just how much you mean to him, in anyway possible.

The combining of two different courtships has me melting.

This inhumanly large man just treating you like a deity, and showering you with love.

You’re his sweet tiny mate, he loves you and wants you safe.

[hyewka]

Omg for your game beomgyu + hybrid ! Except he’s a bear hybrid since I don’t actually see it often despite him being a bear and though I love puppy hybrid gyu I want to see some bear gyu appreciation 😭🤭🤔

⭑ warnings; hybrid!au, switch!beomgyu, wolf!reader, mean femdom, dubcon, fwb, predator x prey, creampie, use of whore and bitch in demeaning ways, not proofread

⭑ send in a small prompt with the format of (member) + (nsfw prompt) and ill write you a small drabble!

you don't exactly know what the dumb cub's obsession with you comes from. you've never looked at him different than any other predator, and yet he has this weird big crush on you. does he know what's good for him or do all preys really just lack critical thinking?

"you're pretty," he babbles in answer of your question as you purposefully clamp down on his itty bitty thing. all it really has is girth. as expected of a bear.

"no duh. but i'm not the prettiest wolf out there so again, why do you like me so much?"

your eyes shoot open when beomgyu unexpectantly starts bucking his hips into your cunt, without permission. who the hell does he think he is?! you're about to curse him out, but as you lose your composure the faster he humps into your heat, he starts talking again.

"but y-you're the prettiest to me."

it's embarrassing how much those words have an effect on you. the heat that rushes up your cheeks is embarrassing, all of it is embarrassing, you're the one who's supposed to have him blushing and yet the dumb cub is the one having you so flustered. you manage to recover, quickly collecting yourself. you huff, taking it upon yourself to hold his wrists together over his head then using your right hand to trail under his shirt, pinching his nipples. that ought to teach him.

"ow! fuck! that hurt!" he shrieks, tears shooting to water his eyes.

"ill do it again if you act out little grizzly, sit there pliant or ill rip your little teddy ears off." he looks angry, frowning at you with his bottom lip stuck out like the baby he is, but really who is he to act like this? you're the one riding him and exerting all the effort while he sits against a tree. he should be grateful that you aren't a bigger bitch.

he looks like he wants to say something, but he keeps it in as his frown transforms to ecstasy, mouth agape as his brows knit together and god, his facial expression really has you horny, hoping you could at least cum from this too.

then he rips it away from you. again.

"gonna cum, keep going you're sooogood at this--h-ha fuckkk"

you blink dumbfounded, does he really think you'll let his dirty litter in your belly? god what a dumbass.

almost immediately you stop and his glossy eyes fly open, he really looks like the most precious thing as he tries and fails to hump you. "no--no fuck!"

you tsk, letting go of his wrists and getting off his dick, dusting off your top. "hoped you'd last a little longer," you murmur pulling your panties up, indifferent to the fact that you just ruined an orgasm for him and he's squirming to try and get his high back with his hand. you could tell he's failing.

it's almost like a power trip leaving the bear on his ass, ruined to shreds against the tree, hiccuping and panting, legs still spread like a whore-- you're satisfied with your work if anything. so you didn't expect to be hurled with your back against the tree, everything going so fast and seemingly out of nowhere, the light switch terrifying with how dangerously close beomgyus face is to yours, with your wrists pinned.

"god you're such a bitch," he growls lowly, and you shiver, for the first time seeing his canines in a more predatory light. "want me to treat you like one? throw you around and give it to you rough like all the asshole predators?"

you don't let your weakness show, trying to bury down your fear. "let me go if you know what's good for you beomgyu." you warn trying to stare him down with the same intense look. it's not as effective as it usually is because he doesn't stop, tightening his hold.

"want me to use you as a body rag? thats what you want right? will that get you to treat me better than a fucking second class citizen? fuck your pussy and breed you with my cubs?"

with every word, it's like venom, your nose flaring, you're pissed. but yet the last bit stirs something deep in you, it's all confusing. why're you into this? you like toys you can control, not someone so unpredictable. who is he to think he could speak to you like that anyway? just because you haven't killed him the first chance you got and kept him around your circle he's acting out like he's better than you, like you've wronged him. you sneer at him.

"i could brush my knee against your dick and you'd buckle to your knees gyu, that's how weak you are. you wouldn't know a thing about fucking me like a bitch." you whisper, keeping the demeaning smile on your face, trying to ignore the feeling of his nails digging into your skin further and further, no doubt bruising.

you expect it, him attaching himself to you again. no matter how much you get a little mean, his lips still crash onto yours, rough and greedy and grossly passionate, like he's trying to convince you of something. it's different this time, he's not holding back, slipping his hand down your pants not wasting any time to rub at your clit, not waiting for any instructions and your body is reacting.

"so wet." he sighs into the feeling of your pussy, squeezing in a second, then a third. "what a whore."

he's fast, he's experienced with his fingers, he knows exactly what you like and it's all your fault for instructing him this entire time. he always had a glint to his eyes, like he'd snap and take you himself. and you guess today was his last straw.

"fuck, beomgyu, i-i'm gonna cum.." it's humiliating, but your pussy clenches around his slender fingers, and you could hear him whimpering, like this gets him off too. even when he's the one in control, he's still as desperate.

suddenly, like your warning is the call he's been waiting for, he turns you back to have your body against the tree, and you know he wants to go along his promise to breed you. suddenly you feel the emptiness of his fingers, and you're about to complain before he takes both your wrists in his hand, having them behind your back, his dick proding your entrance. "ready bitch?"

"beomgyu i swear if you cum inside of me-"

he doesn't listen, of course he doesn't. your tits bounce with each and every thrust and you just hope to the gods that nobody finds you like this. he's totally gone savage, trying to drill his cock deep into your pussy, whispering all sorts of filthy words. if everything before wasn't a big whiplash this was it.

even when you orgasm around his dick, he isn't satisfied. "beomgyu-fuck! stop please it h-hurts-"

"im not stopping until i have your tummy filled. ill make you have my babies." he says with so much conviction, his breath staggering.

"for the last time we can't breed dumb cub!" is what you wish you could say but all you're capable of with the mush state of your mind is intelligible moans. he's as fast and ruthless, playing with your tits when he can, not missing a second to kiss all over your neck.

you've lost to beomgyu of all people, how humiliating.

note; I haven't read over this but hopefully it's okay, crossing my fingers 😭

[alexl0veswriting]

Anon asks “William Afton × bunny boy reader!!”

SYNOPSIS: William is needy>:33

WARNINGS: FEMALE AND MINOR DNI!!! facefucking, boss x employee, fingering, ftm bunny hybrid, mutual possessiveness? FtM reader!!, slight choking, MLM, squirting, foreplay, size difference, unprotected V & P sex, backhanded praises, usage of pet names, words 'cunt' and 'pussy' to describe readers genitals.

(This is a rewrite! So I hope it’s better!!!)

* . ° • ☆ • . ° • ☆ • ° . • ☆ • ° . *

You’ve been working at Freddy’s Pizzeria for seven months, and It’s been going smoothly. You take care of some kids, make pizza, and pleasure your boss when he’s stressed. Once on the closing shift, William vented to you about him and his wife getting a divorce which led to him pounding into your bunny cunt as you lay your stomach flat on his wooden desk while pulling at your long bunny ears for support. Your high-pitched whines echoed through his dimly lit office. “Fuck, had I known you were this good… I would've left that bitch for you.” Your cotton tail twitched as William growled in your ear, his right hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you up harshly and forcing you to arch your back for him.

You had just finished cleaning the tables, and a tired sigh escaped your lips as your fluffy ears twitched when you heard William sneak up behind you, his big muscular arms sneaking around your waist. “I want you. Now.” That is all William could say as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, and pressed his solid, clothed cock against your ass. The sensation an acceptable amount to make you whine, turning your head toward him with a faint crimson on your cheeks and nodding your head. Without any hesitation, William’s hand grips your wrist, dragging you alongside him to his office. William slammed his office door shut, settling down on his leather chair with his legs dispersed.

Your eyes filled with lust and anticipation as William pulled you to your knees. Oh, how hot you look right now. A cold, hard chuckle rumbled in William’s throat, his fingers stroking the back of your head and floppy ears. “God, I love the way you look at me.” His head falls to the side, and your fingers slowly unzip his work pants, earning a low groan from William’s lips. You pull William’s pants and purple boxers down to his ankles, and William’s cock hits his stomach. “Yeah, that’s right. use your mouth, boy.” The sight only makes you wetter by the second, and you knead at the tip of William’s dick with your finger, pre-cum dripping out of his pretty pink tip. Mouth already salivating from the sight, and your jaw hung open as you took his whole length in your itty-bitty maw.

His cock was now buried in your sweet little mouth as deep as it could go. Low groans and moans left William’s precious lips while you choked and gagged around his veiny shaft. “look at you suckin' off your boss, so desperate too." William slaps your face with his throbbing dick. Your face was a mess, cheeks flushed, and a sore jaw. Your hand found its way down your boxers, rubbing your cunt, and William could feel the need in your voice as you whine. A couple of facefucking rounds, and William came into your mouth. “Look at you. You want more, baby boy?” He huffed as he traced his cocktip around your lips, covering them in his salty cum. You nod your head eagerly as you kiss it with need.

"Atta boy, now on your feet.” You held onto his broad shoulders for support as you stood up. William’s larger hands then pulled down your briefs, revealing a pretty drenched cunt. His fingers trailed in between your wet folds, covering his digits with your slick. "Spread your legs, love." You obeyed like an obedient little subordinate and unfolded them as wide as you could manage. William rolled his eyes at your pathetic attempt and forced you to sit on his desk. A whimper escapes your pink lips as your bare ass press against William’s freezing wooden desk, and he holds your thighs open. William groans and uses two fingers to spread your twitching bunnycunt as you clenched around nothing. 

“Can't believe how wet you are already." Before you could say anything at all, William shoved two of his long fingers into your desperate pussy. Your eyes shut tightly in bliss as you choke out a moan and hug his neck. You hide your face in his neck to muffle your moan. “My fucking god.." William breathed, curling his fingers in your dripping cunt while his thumb roughly rubbed your clit. You cry out as William engages only on your bud, and your thighs begin to twitch and tighten up. William’s left hand gripped onto your thigh, spreading them fully open as you let out whines. Your walls clenched around William’s digits, and your breath hitched with every thrust of his skilled fingers.

“You going to cum for me? go ahead, slut.” Willaim snarled while pushing another digit in your pussy, ergo making your cunt make embarrassing wet sounds as he stretched you open. You tighten around his fingers and moan William’s name, which sounds more like high-pitched cries as you squirt on his hand, grinding your pussy on his hand like a needy mutt. Every thrust of your hips caused you to spurt more and more, making a mess on your boss's desk.

* . ° • ☆ • . ° • ☆ • ° . • ☆ • ° . *

𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒗𝒆𝒅 ©alexl0veswriting 2024. D𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆

[wandasgf]

I beg you to elaborate on Wanda declawing hybrid r

SENSITIVE mdni. 18+.

pairing: wanda maximoff + cat hybrid!reader

warnings: mommy wanda, whiny reader, claws in flesh

a/n: just an itty bitty drabble ! this is much fluffier than i originally intended... whoops. кошечка (koshechka) = kitty

Wanda had given you plenty of chances to put your claws away on your own because she knows you're just excited and sometimes you can't help but stretch them out. Especially when she's being affectionate with you, but she's gotten one too many deep scratches lately that end up with you in tears and her reassuring you that she knows it wasn't on purpose and that she promises she's not upset with you. She doesn't know who came up with the idea that cats are less emotional because clearly they hadn't met you.

"I know you don't want to, kitty, but we've had one too many accidents lately, haven't we?" Wanda asks softly, running a hand through your hair and letting you rub your cheek against her clothed stomach. She's standing in front of where you sit on the edge of the bathtub. The past fifteen minutes have been spent with her trying to coax you into at least letting her trim your claws. There are crocodile tears in your eyes as you pull away and look up at her, sniffling and whimpering quietly. "Mhm," you nod, "but Mommy–"

"No buts. Give me your hand, кошечка." Wanda is soft but firm as she holds her hand out for you. You whine, shaking your head and moving your hands underneath your thighs. "I'll be good, Mommy, I promise. You don't gotta cut them..." You hope the pout you give her is enough to deter her, but she remains firm in her stance. When you don't receive a response aside from the raised eyebrow she gives you, you whine and hesitantly take your hands out from beneath your thighs and raise one of them up to Wanda's waiting hand.

You extend your claws and try your best to stay still, but when Wanda cuts the first one a little too short for your liking, you hiss and accidentally sink your claws into her forearm. Your eyes widen at the yelp she lets out and apologies tumble from your lips faster than she can scold you, swearing you didn't mean to. "That is it! Until I think you can learn to control your claws, you're not going to have any at all, do you understand?"

The only response she receives is a pitiful whimper and a tiny nod as you try to brace yourself for what's to come.

[panie-wanie-dean-bean]

SDJ master list

All name specific and au tags will be below. The tag list also has tags for aus I no longer write for so you can have fun exploring my old shit if you want lol

Cult town au: an au where you're the child of the founder of a cult and also a god

Hybrid au: an au where you are a very successful business person who adopts more than a handful of hybrids

Minecraft hybrid au: an au where you live in minecraft and meet a bunch of mob hybrid boys

Bitty au: an au where all the boys are the size of dolls and you adopt them

Milk au: an off shoot of hybrid au with the same lore but all the boys are cow hybrids and you're their farmer/owner

Lovely leeches: an au where you serve magical drinks to the bois as demons

[hollyhomburg]

Okay but!!! On my hybrid bullshit but!!! Imagine an ot7 x reader au with cat hybrid m/c whose itty bitty even for a kitty hybrid 🥺 I’m talking 5 foot from the top of her pretty ears to her sensitive paw and toe pads. And the boys who love putting her through the dangle test to see which one of them she likes best just 🥺 little kitty m/c who goes limp when they hold her up, so trusting that even her hybrid instincts don’t activate. No thoughts just cute rumbly purrs and a fluffy swishing tails

[smallestapplin]

• Bitty

(*Cries in corner and refuses to look anyone in the face*, okaaaay this went through like several rewrites, I still can’t write dialog or canon characters for the life of me and with the constant running to your blog and onestepbackwards for inspiration… and just like figuring out what and how to write smut it probably is gonna feel very same-y to what you’ve already written BUT-! Here’s my first attempt at smut, be honest but go easy I will cry T^T)

(Context, this takes place before Reader knows about Emmet and still early in the relationship, Reader uses they/them but is AFAB.

Warnings/triggers: Smut so 18+only, size play/size kink, animalistic traits/features on humans, biting, mild sexual aggression.)

 ~~~~                            

Life was… odd and yet comfortable after pair bonding with the Alpha hybrid Zoroark of the area, Ingo. An incredibly large and intimidating fellow but with the kindest heart you’d ever had the fortune of meeting in person let alone having him choose you as his mate.

There was still an adjustment period right now, he’d helped you move from your burrow and into one of the nearby caves so the two of you could better cohabitate but that seemed to come with its own issues, mostly it was needing a stool to get at anything. Ingo did his best to help you but with the size of his territory he was gone most days, admittedly behind his back you were using your burrow more often or not still but like Today you returned to live with him when his rounds brought him back and the two of you could spend the next two days and the night together.

He was actually running a bit late today which had you slightly worried, you’d keep yourself busy though preparing dinner for later; the two of you might not eat the same things but it didn’t take you much more effort to just make meals more catered to omnivores, it didn’t hurt either of you so long as you only ate such things a few times a week… which given his absence most of the time is what it figured out to about.

A sigh as you finished and he still wasn’t home you stepped down from the kitchenette area and dragged your stool so you could hop up onto the couch, it was pretty minimalistic, more a wooden bench with furs thrown on it but it was comfortable all the same as you sprawled out with a contented sigh and closed your eyes to rest.

It’s well you are resting Ingo returns, silent as the late night as he steps soundlessly through the thin hidden entrance to your shared den and he finds you napping, pink fur making you stand out like a beacon against the dark furs of the couch. He smiles softly thinking of not disturbing you but all the same he pads over so he can softly cup the side of you face in a single large hand, stroking your cheek before leaning down to kiss your temple in a loving manner.

You groaned and eyes fluttered open only half lidded with a tired look before you saw him and gasped, despite the large Alphas attempt to pull back your hands fling out to grab his shirt and tug for him to come back, which he obediently does a love struck look on his face as you demand to know what took him so long! Where had he been! And you missed him dearly.

He could barely get a word out between but was smiling despite the scolding tone as you lead him up and onto the couch, resting his body over yours like a weighted blanket, his arms propping himself up slightly on his elbows making his mass comfortable instead of crushing and leaving you feeling secure as you so easily fit under him wholly and truly hidden beneath his bulk.

In the excitement of your tender yet quick kisses he moved his arms allowing him to cradle the back of your head with large palms well his fingers curled able to stroke your long ears base well his thumbs moved under your chin to tilt back so he could kiss you proper.

It was supposed to be short and sweet, yet he found himself dragging it out he’d missed you so much and the sweet taste of your lips was swiftly becoming deeper as he kissed harder threatening a bruise from the passion, you hummed; back arching as a move to be closer your chests pressed tight you snug and pinned between his bulk and the unmoving frame of the couch.

You moaned softly and he shifted to suck on your lower lip before he took advantage of your gasp to move back and slip his tongue in you mouth lengthening the session until you were forced to break it for air.

Cheat lightly heaving you shift to wrap your arms around his neck nuzzling into his shoulder as you teasingly joke he must have really missed you to greet you like that~

He blushed the beginnings of a muffled apology cut off as you locked lips with him and ground your hips against him drawing a deeper blush and a moan out of him.

Oh you were not letting him back outta this, well you two hadn’t done the deed yet you wanted to fix that, now.

But you could already see him getting nervous of going much further then your usual make out sessions, you were so much smaller and he’d voiced before a fear of getting to worked up and hurting you in the act.

But you remain soft spoken and confident, it’s okay, everything will be okay, the two of you can go slow and if he gets too anxious you can stop.

He’s the one to come up with a safe word, you both agree to teacup and with a little bit of gentle coaxing he hesitantly leans back down to kiss you.

He starts at your lips before trailing down your jaw, at your neck he starts sucking lightly and nipping the skin, he shifts on arm wrapping under your back to hold you closer despite still being pinned before he simply runs his tongue over your neck in full causing you to moan and squirm softly before he continues down to your shoulder, kissing and nipping and likely leaving more then a few spots that would become hickies later.

He started to trail down to your collarbone and gave a soft growl when he was interrupted by the fabric of your dress. A soft giggle from yourself and he had slipped his hands under the skirt before lifting and taking the whole thing off you in one swoop leaving you in nothing but what you were born with.

He’d paused just staring over you making you just a bit self conscious and worried as you attempted to start covering yourself with your hands, faintly blushing and looking away before he was quick to grab your hands to expose you chest again and after licking his lips started on your collarbone again between each kiss and nip reminding you how beautiful you were, how perfect you were to him and how he was going to treasure every inch of you.

It made you shiver in a good way but squirm all the same under the praise and affection earning you a harsher nip and him tighten his hold on your wrists with another hefty growl that lingered at the back of his throat.

He paused seeming to gage your reaction, those piercing silver white eyes staring at you for any signal but you not telling him to stop or using your safe word seemed to spur him on as he started down your chest, he had to pull you out from under him a bit to get at your breasts, removing his hands as restraints to instead hold your torso, mouth at work on a nipple, sucking and nipping and teasing with his tongue before switching to the other. He couldn’t get over the taste of you and opened his mouth able to take your whole left breast in sucking on it as his tongue still worked and teased the bud at its tip.

You squirmed and moaned until he let go and nipped at your skin again before moving his hands to squish the flesh orbs together and then run his tongue between with a low rumble of blissed out glee.

Having his fill he started down your stomach hands sliding down to grip you hips as you’re pushed you up and out from under him and into a seated position as he starts on you thighs, you’re squirming, despite for him to get on with it with soft pleas but a sharper nip to your inner thigh makes you yelp before you feel him kissing and licking the spot to sooth it quick enough.

He’s so close though you can feel your core and clit throbbing for attention and whimper and call his name.

Seeming to acknowledge your pleas he holds you hips spreading them as wide as he comfortably can kissing along an inner thigh until he works his way to your heat.

Then, from hole to clit he runs his tongue making your back arch and head throw back as you moan grinding you hips against his face well your hands move up in an attempt to muffle yourself.

Not that it was all that necessary or long lasting as Ingo’s loud grumbling moan fueled growls you were practically drowned you out noise wise. His hands slip up, moving from your thighs to cup your ass and force your hips up as exploratory licks turned to full on tongue fucking as he nuzzled in and reached his tongue as far into your core as he could manage.

It was so much very quickly and you couldn’t help but squirm and buck against his face as the wave of pleasure hit and you’d find your hand gripping his hair tight trying to force his head down more leaving him moaning against your clit.

Your breath quickened, your chest started to rise and fall heavily and your vision blurred before calling out to your mate you were about to go over the edge.

His response was to throw your legs over his shoulders and sink his tongue in deep before you clenched down and came.

He slowed as you came down, lapping up your slick in a way that made your over stimulated body shutter but get a few moments of rest. Chest still heaving a bit you even out your breathing loosening your grip to gently stroke his hair instead causing your mate to give an odd growl of a purr that made you smile.

It was fine until you tried to wiggle loose foolishly thinking the event was over and instead finding his growl a lot less of a purr as he stopped his clean up to go at your sensitive clit again making you gasp and then moan as the over sensitivity causes you to arch backwards, toes stretching out before curling as you weakly called Ingo’s name.

No call to stop however and he brought a hand to you folds, lathering up two fingers until they were good and coated before slipping in one before the other allowing for time to adjust before slowly beginning to stretch you open proper.

The fingering fucking was even more intense then his tongue they wouldn’t stop hitting or curling just so against your sweet spot, needless to say you were loud between the none stop attention to your clit and core, you felt tears sting the corner of your eyes and you moans turn a more simple short cry between each adjustment or harder thrust and stretch, he was really over working you and it wasn’t long before you rolled your hips against his fingers to push them in deeper before clenching down again.

This time the pleasure so rich his hand came up coated and soaked from your excitement.

He pulled back, sitting up and taking the moment to lick his hand and then face clean, slowly and never breaking eye contact as you blushed a deep red and had to fight yourself not to cover your face in embarrassment.

Seeing you breathing heavily, flushed and eyes sparkling with lust tainted tears Ingo couldn’t get enough of you, he finally shrugged off his shirt and started to undo his pants sighing in relief as he was freed from the constructive hold they’d had on him.

He wanted you so badly, but even in his own state he know to take things slowly, this was your first time with him after all, he was going to make sure every part of it was pleasurable for you even if he did want to stuff you fast and full.

He’d slowly pull you by your ankles back onto your back, leaning over you in a guarded admittedly slightly possessive manner as he nuzzled into you neck inhaling deeply before beginning to kiss and lick across your skin again, attempting to get you to relax without completely winding back down.

It worked as your tired body started to ease up, but the teasing of his kisses and the following of wandering hands across and over your body before finding your chest and being to play with your nipples; well the teasing certainly kept you in the mood.

Kissing back up to your lips Ingo pressed deep causing you to gasp and then moan as he let his tongue in exploring your mouth with it before rolling over your tongue with his own causing a tangled mess between pressed lips and clicking teeth.

You’d have to turn your head to break away for air, a strange of saliva connecting you two like a spiders silk not getting a chance to break as Ingo chased you down after deciding you’d gotten enough air.

It was during the second sloppy make out his hands would slide down your sides resting on your hips again as he slowly moved and adjusted you to were he needed but could still each.

Then he rutted against your folds, his large cock slipping between the folds following the natural line up until the blunt tip of his member hit your clit and rubbed past.

You moaned loudly muffled both by the kiss and his own chest vibrating response as you felt claws start to dig into your thighs leader to a louder response of pleasure to the stimulants mixing

He starts slowly rolling his hips repeating the previous action again and again each hit to your clit making you whine and squirm all the while he growls deeper into the kiss holding you in place as he works to coat his dick to make actual penetration go smoothly.

With a huff however he quickly lifts off you, the sudden lack of his weight and heat, the feel of his hand or member on you makes you shiver from sudden chill and a desperate neediness for him to finish what he started.

You didn’t get the opportunity to vocally complain past a soft whine however, the larger hybrid easily picking you up with one arm as he changed positions.

You were placed just slightly above his lap, on his stomach as he shifted his elbows to the backs of your knees to pull up and back before open exposing your wet hole and well putting everything else o  display too. He rested his chin on the top of your head the incline letting you know he was looking down to get a good view as he lined himself up and slowly started to ease the head in.

You gasped, he gave a grumbling moan before through gritted teeth he asked you to ease up, he was barely in and he thought you were clenching. You weren’t though! He was just so big and as you whimpered your reply he huffed giving a short thrust to help him pull inside you as he had too seemingly fight for each inch in.

You were seeing stars, the alpha Zoroark hybrid however, your loving mate Ingo was going absolutely feral of the feeling of you around him, you moans and whimper not helping him keep his head about this as you felt like you were made for him and he worried he might just lose his loud as soon as you bottomed out.

He gets you down to his lap though, knees almost to your ears as he otherwise forces you hips down and just shutters at the sensation of being in able to feel every internal twitch and pulse your body gives at accepting him.

You whimper and move enough to pull him out a tiny bit before back in and he doesn’t need the message repeated as he pulls out almost completely leaving only the tip before slamming back in causing you to shriek, head lulling back onto his shoulder as your body went limp and you couldn’t do much more the kiss or nip back at his neck as he had a his way with your hole.

He wasn’t letting up again reducing you to little more then a sex toy and he let his arms untwine from your legs just so he could grab you hips and lift you before shoving you back down on his lap forcing himself in as deep as he could.

At some point he shifted again, beyond words and dizzy from the never ending bliss you could only mewl and claw at the furs you were placed chest down on as he made sure you hips stayed up well his chest pressed hard against your back pinning you down.

He kept thrusting deeper and harder until you couldn’t take it anymore and bit down hard onto the armrest of the couch, wood cracking from the pressure as you finally did clench around him making the alpha gasp and freeze as you milked him for his worth.

It took him a moment but he’d give three more good thrusts against the clenching of your orgasm before locking himself in place as he reached his own and coated your insides, his teeth sinking deep into your bond mark to finalize the moment.

Both gasping and overheat, he adjusts so you both lay on your sides, chest to chest now him, you felt stretched and empty without him but the break was needed as you nuzzled against his chest. He rumbled a purr keeping you pressed between himself and the back of the couch leaving you warm and guarded until you felt really to move in your own time~

THIS WAS AMAZING FOR YOUR FIRST SHOT AT THIS WOOOOBOOOAH!

OH THIS IS GREAT I AM IN LOVE.

You did great!

This is great!

Im losing it and it’s only 8am, thank you for the foooood.

[raintailed]

rain rain rain rain how do you draw iterators and slugcats btw like all your gyus are so shaped its so fun to look at theyre just little guys...

i'm gonna start with slugcats! my old guide from 2023 is here.

Note: "slugcat" refers to multiple species (slugcats are in a species complex). It can be hard to differentiate slugcat species, since some are very similar and hybridization between them is common where their ranges overlap. The species that Monk and Survivor are members of is called the "common slugcat."

Slugcats are weird sorta-feline creatures that walk bipedally and have little hands. Their average height is 3'3" or about 1 meter tall.

Their basic body shape is a round head on top of a trapezoidal body. Their legs are digitigrade, they have human-like arms (that are often skinny lol), and their tails are thick and tapering. Slugcats also have retractable arms ig??? I have no idea how that would work

In terms of head shape, it's similar to a cat's, but with a somewhat taller forehead (bigger brain! more room for being Smart!). Slugcats usually have short muzzles, big eyes, and long ears.

Note: slugcat arms usually rest in front of the body (think meerkats) rather than to the sides like a human.

Uhhh I like giving slugcats dewlaps (rabbit dewlaps are a good reference)!

And for fat slugcats, fat is usually stored in the tail (and dewlap) first. So naturally my gourmand has a big tail and a big dewlap :]

And!! I like to think that some slugcats have fur, and some don't. Hairless slugcats are slimy; furred slugcats have oily, waterproof coats. Some shorthaired slugcats have smooth fur like otters and seals do.

TEEFS!!! Except technically, slugcats don't have teeth. Rather, they have sharp, jagged beaks (think cephalopods). Their beaks continually grow and they are self-sharpening. Because their beaks are really sharp, slugcat bites are always serious injuries.

The length of their "fangs" varies by species. Some carnivorous species have long fangs, for example.

And! They have bristly tongues like cats (and kinda like the radula of a gastropod).

For their paws, slugcats have 3-fingered hands and feet. Their claws vary; some individuals have blunt claws, some have sharp claws, others have retractable claws, etc.

The inner toe of a slugcat's foot is opposable, making it easy for them to grab onto poles with their feet. (Compare to scavengers, who mostly use their arms to climb.)

SLUPPIES!!!!!! (don't worry about the fluffy one, they're just eepy)

Slugpups have different proportions than adults! Including having a bigger head, chubbier body, etc. Fluffy slugpups can also be a bit scraggly like longhaired kittens are.

My slugcats are basically egg-laying marsupials. They lay eggs, store them in their pouch, and then the eggs hatch into itty bitty babies. The babies stay in the pouch, feeding on milk until they're big enough to venture outside.

When pups are too big for the pouch, they ride on their parent's head or back. They also begin the process of weaning around this time, since by then they've started growing a sharp beak (i guess before that, their beak is dull and too small to self-sharpen?).

Note: some slugcat species are unisex and others are trioecious (having male, female, and hermaphrodite individuals).

For expressions, ears are important!!

Neutral: ears relaxed. The relaxed position varies by individual; some slugcats have their ears rest slightly tilted back, for example.

Alert/interested: ears perked up.

Angry: ears pinned back. Very angry slugcats have their ears positioned so they're almost in line with the top of the head.

Afraid: ears pinned down (sometimes slightly to the sides, too).

Sad: ears droop to the sides.

Slugcats mostly use their tails for balance, but they're used for some emotes too.

Upwards-curled tail is an excited or enthusiastic hello! Kinda like how some cats raise their tail when they see their human.

When upset, annoyed, or grumpy, slugcats may thump their tail against the ground (kinda like how rabbits stomp).

Some slugcats wag their tails when playing or excited. This isn't a universal thing, though.

Slugcats with fur may puff up their tail when startled or scared. They may also puff their tail when excited or playing, too.

[candywife333]

Kidnapped......By Choice

And I am back guys. Sorry for the super long hiatus. Will finish Moo Moo part 2 right after I release this small drabble/one shot hybrid (going to call them DRAB-ONE from now on😆)

pairing: Kidnapper Jungkook x chubby oblivious , super nonchalant Y/N

4th DAY OF CHRISTMAS

(DRAB-ONE)

Trigger: mention of trafficking

As usual, little to no proofreading

Could a girl never get some peace and quiet in this freaking world? I shifted from side to side, attempting to catch sleep but the raucous noise of the dinner party beneath my room prevented me from even drifting off.

As I felt myself slowly succumb into the warm embrace of a peaceful slumber, I heard the sudden thud of my window swing open. BAM! BAM!

WTF?!!! THIS BITCH WAS GOING TO GET IT NOW??!!! WHO THE FUCK WAS OUT TO MAKE ME A SLEEPLESS , STRESS RIDDEN LITTLE TROLL?!!!

That's when I saw him standing against the window, almost a silent specter. Well built thick thighs encased in black leather , check. White ski mask barely showing a peek of pink luscious lips, check. Strong shoulders and arms outlined by a dark leather jacket tapering down to reveal an itty, bitty tiny waist, check.

As I literally gobbled his form up with my eyes, the man sauntered over, as a fluid as a panther towards me. "Hey, hey, dude. Stay right there man. I'm a nervous farter. I wouldn't want to fart on you and make you suffer from inhaling the noxious fumes that come out of my ass".

He quirked one of his eyebrows up seemingly trying to hold laughter in, as he rumbled out in a deep masculine voice that made my panties suspiciously moist, "That is seriously all you have to say to an intruder who has come into your bedroom at night? You are warning him that you might fart? That is your threat"?

I put one hand on my head, growling out in impatience, "Look bro, I wouldn't be warning you if it actually wasn't a weapon of mass destruction. You picked the wrong one tonight. I could ruin your sense of smell so bad that you would think a jar of pickles smell like petunias. Don't test the power of the FLATULENCE. OK"?

I slapped my ass vehemently to prove a point......and also assert dominance. Who the hell did this handsome, drool-worthy dude bro think he was, walking in on me in a ripped stained crop top and sleep shorts that had been swallowed by my ass from behind? I had never been so indecently clothed in the presence of a man. And worst of all, a stranger at that.

However, none of this bravado stopped him in his path as he stood right in front of me. His dark eyes glinted like two twinkling stars in the night sky. "Look little lady, it is better if you cooperate. You are right now being kidnapped, why don't you actually show preservation skills and some healthy dose of fear"?

I snorted, clearly making him surprised as he glared at me in confusion, "There ain't anything small about me man. Everything is large or extra large. Not a small bone in my body since I was 10 years old. Now, why don't you move out of my way before I sit on you and suffocate you with my fat cells and bad odor".

Mirth filtered through his eyes as he seemed to be holding back a laugh. Before I could blink, he restrained my arms behind me. As usual my weak arm strength (can't even do a push up) made me as moldable as jello. He tied my wrists with rope and shoved me onto the bed.

I felt super annoyed. First of all, I wasn't getting sleep. Number two, I wasn't even that pretty enough for him to kidnap and sell into any human trafficking. The trafficker would take one look at me, spit in my chubby face, and shove me back where I came from. That would be the first time, they would want a refund. Well everything has a first I guess.

Before I could sit up on the bed and catch my bearings, he had taken off his mask. My jaw fell open and I swear I started drooling. Jungkook? The hot high school senior that I had been mooning over for close to three years? Why was he trying to kidnap me? Wait......why was I resisting? This was a dream come true.

My mood completely switched as I had a grin on my face, brimming with happiness, "Hey, Jungkook-ssi , why don't you kidnap me a little faster and harder...if you catch my drift"?

He looked bewildered as his piercings shined in the dim light, "You..you aren't scared of what is going on right now"?

I kicked my chubby feet into the air in excitement, cheeks blushing, "I have always wanted to be abducted by you, so I don't mind. So, where are you taking me .....and what depraved activities do you have in mind. Would you mind taking me away for a month, at least till math finals are over"? I winked at him, entreating him to give me an answer.

He stood there, paralyzed in shock as he gritted out, teeth clenched, "This was just supposed to be a prank, your brother dared me to do it for 500 bucks". Tears slipped down my face, lips pouting. "What do you mean Jungkook-ssi? Do you mean that you were never supposed to rail me roughly into oblivion? This was all a set-up"?

Not able to deal with my fake crying, he started trying to reassure me, "No Y/N, it was just a light hearted prank, and I needed the money. Please don't misunderstand, I never meant to harm you. I was just supposed to get you scared enough and have the drone camera outside the window record it".

I peered out the window and saw the drone. My expression fell flat, and I felt glum...disappointed at the outcome. I wanted to be roughly porked like in those dark romance novel books with the mafia leaders who were kidnappers. Well, a girl can have here fantasies I guess, but maybe they were never meant to be.

I sullenly sighed, "Ok then Jungkook-ssi. Now that you got the reaction, why don't you leave? I am tired and sleepy. If you don't do it, it is ok. I will just find someone else to do it".

He seemed relieved, till he heard the last line of what I said. His eyes became frantic, smoldering with anger and lips in a hard straight line as he spit out, "What do you mean someone else"?

I yawned, settling back under the covers, rubbing my eyes, "Are you slow or something Jungkook-ssi. I thought my noncon kidnapping kink would be satisfied today and I could knock it off my checklist. But I guess I just have to find someone to pound me from behind, in a ski mask propped onto a window-sill. It just won't be you. Perhaps....Hoseok-ssi, he did grin my way last week in dance club. Maybe he would be interested".

As my eyes closed slowly, head sinking onto the pillow below I felt a weight dip onto the bed and my wrist pinned onto either side of the bed. I opened my eyes suddenly, to be met with Jungkook's feral grin right above me. I tried batting him away, irritated. What did he want now? His big veiny hands grabbed me by my wrists as his hot breath ghosted my neck. He panted with exertion as he continued in a lethal tone, "I will kill any man who dares touch you. Don't test me sweetheart. I am the only one who gets to have you against a window-sill".

I snorted, amused at his antics. He hadn't looked my way in the past 3 years that I had devotedly followed him around campus. And now suddenly after a stupid bet, he was possessive over me. Nonsense. Balderdash. I turned around on my side, pushing my bed covers higher on my body. This tomfoolery at 12 am was not what I wanted to hear. I drawled out groggily, "Like you would be attracted to my sagging granny panty clad ass. Just go back man. Had enough of lies for today".

Suddenly, I felt cold air abruptly filter onto my pussy and butt. Startled, I looked up to see my damp panties in his vascular hands. Smirking deviously as he rubbed my clit slowly with his calloused finger, spreading the moisture around, making me mewl and clutch at his coat, he whispered against my neck, "What made you think that granny panties would stop me sweetheart"?

[amaranthinecanicular]

THE KING'S CANARY TAKES FLIGHT!

The king's canary has abandoned his duty. Jimmy would argue he just quit a bad job. Either way there's a bounty on his head and a curse around his neck, and with Grian and Joel's voices ringing in his ears, Jimmy's dreams of freedom seem further out of reach by the day. That is until he saves a blaze hybrid who, for some reason, is hellbent on returning the favor. Alone, Jimmy is pathetic. Honestly, even with Tango, Jimmy still thinks they're kind of pathetic. But with a little bit of luck they just might make it.

[My gift for the @mcytblrholidayexchange, for @thesleepycat! I'm so sorry it's so late, but I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you had a stellar holiday!]

[alternatively read on ao3.]

:

THE KING’S CANARY TAKES FLIGHT!

It’s a catchy headline. Jimmy glares down at the trodden newspapers and admits at least this: it is a catchy headline.

One week and three towns out from the capital and the gossip still refuses to die. Jimmy blames the excess of perfectly reproduced ink on paper; if redstone wizardry hadn’t automated the process, he’s certain the printing press would never have taken off, and he’d have been able to slip through the cracks of the kingdom long before news could spread. 

He skirts the edge of the street and keeps moving. The phantom twinge of a boot grinding into his toes is easy to ignore. Less easy to ignore: the voices of the townsfolk, tittering over his crime. He hears his name but more often he hears his title. Canary. Canary. Canary. 

“Poor birdie. Can’t be easy, being the king’s canary,” says one woman. Jimmy doesn’t know if she’s being sarcastic or sincere; he can’t risk looking her in the face.

“Pah! Canary. Yellow-bellied sapsucker, more like,” says a man. “All he ever had to do was stand there and not die and get paid for standing there and not dying. Couldn’t even do that.” He’s starting to sound like Joel. “Got no idea what a real, honest day’s work looks like. Spoiled and ungrateful, you ask me. If I were him, with gifts like that, I’d be up in the castle no questions asked. Bitty canary’s nothing but a coward—ow!”

The man hops up and down on one foot, glaring at the oblivious butcher who’d stomped on it. 

Jimmy draws his hood low. 

:

Joel thought he was cursed by a witch. Grian thought he was born with it. The Red King said it was a gift from the gods, divine proof that he was meant to rule and no harm was to come to him.

Jimmy doesn’t know anything about a witch, or the gods, or the circumstances in which he was born, but he thinks Joel was closest to the mark. It’s a curse. It's always been a curse.

:

A dilemma: Jimmy needs food. 

His wings are numb with cold and his feet feel like he’s leaving behind the skin with every step, but food is the pressing issue. It’s taken two weeks and five towns of varying industry, but he’s finally run through the stock he took from the castle. He’s got plenty of money for more, but money isn’t really the problem. They just put out a reward for him. Martyn’s doing, if he had to guess. If anyone was considering letting him go before, they certainly aren’t now. 

Redstone has taken hold here, turned the town metropolitan, and he can hear as well as smell all the local dishes that the vendors are hawking: caramelized redstone sweets, charred and spiced meats, cups of blazepowder soup. They smell so good. He keeps to the outskirts of the market square, watching from the corner of his eye as steam wafts up every time the vendor ladles out chunky red broth. Jimmy feels the hiss of a burn on his hand; a second later the vendor’s eye twitches at a splash of hot soup. She looks up, and Jimmy ducks away before their eyes can meet.

There are no good options. If he pays for a meal, he’s almost guaranteed to be recognized and exposed. If he tries to steal something, he’s almost guaranteed to be caught and exposed. (He has no talent for thieving, as Grian and Joel proved every time they dared Jimmy to nick something, back when money was tight.) If he does nothing, his traitorous stomach will complain loud enough to garner attention, and then he’ll be exposed. Or he’ll starve. Which is also bad.

If he could, he’d have hiked through the forest until he got to the plains biome. Away from the towns and the crowds, free to hunt for his own meals. But every time he drifted from the path Joel and Grian’s voices rang in his head, reminding him that he’s never been good at camping, that mobs seem drawn to him like they knew he was weak, that he could barely hold his own with them around and on his own he was next to useless. 

He’s almost at the end of the square. What then? Keep going and hope he doesn’t collapse on the road to the next town? Even the thought of food leaves him lightheaded, he’d never make it. Wheel back around and pass through the market a second time, and risk being recognized? His pace slows to a crawl. Joel and Grian were right—he can’t survive on his own. He doesn’t know why he tried. He was warm and well-fed in the castle, and if he wasn’t appreciated then at least he was secure, and he only had to die occasionally.

Among all the spiced fruits and roasting meats, there is a small cart selling apples. The man working the cart is distracted (reading a paper with Jimmy’s reward plastered across the front, because what else would he be doing), only halfheartedly calling out prices to the bustling crowd. Jimmy is several yards away. Then only a handful. And then he's within arm’s reach, and no one has looked his way once. Surely no one will miss an apple? The owner of the cart shouts, and Jimmy flinchs, but he's only making a sale to a man on the other side of the cart. They fall into animated conversation. Jimmy stands scant feet away, unnoticed.

He could do it. He could do it now. That would show Grian and Joel. If Jimmy could steal an apple, what else could he do? What couldn’t he do? Of course he could survive on his own! Oh, they’d feel so terrible for thinking otherwise. They’d fawn and shower him with praise, and they’d tell him how capable he was, how strong and clever, how they were wrong to doubt him. They’d grovel, probably. They’d tell him they were sorry that he had gone through what he’d gone through, and how they appreciated that it had been for them, and that he didn’t need to do it any longer because he had tons, oodles of other skills and gifts that made him worth the burden of keeping him. He’d show them. 

If he ever saw them again, he’d show them.

The nearest apple is shiny and perfectly red. Jimmy reaches out.

Pain ravages him. It explodes hot along his side, blunt force that shatters his arm and leg and pulverizes his insides, even as it doesn't. He staggers. He chokes. Every breath feels like a betrayal, his body piercing itself over and over. The ghost of broken ribs. He chokes. He groans. 

It doesn’t stop hurting. It’s getting worse. Fear and pain leave him nauseous. Where will it come from? Where where where—

There. A redstone automobile down the street, blurred by his tears. It’s moving too fast. The wheel is wobbling wildly, the redstone in the undercarriage is sparking. It’s coming straight at him. No, it’s—it’s coming straight at the apple cart. 

The crowd is parting around him, now, he thinks. He’s getting looks—recognition or alarm, he doesn’t know. He tries to say run, but all that limps from his mouth is a moan. The man speaking to the vendor turns and sees him. Jimmy thinks he sees him. They have seconds.

“Run,” he thinks he says. Gasps, sobs, something.

The world jags and falls sideways. A man is above him. The man from the apple cart, and the vendor looking perturbed over his shoulder. One of them is speaking, the words bleeding and incomprehensible. Jimmy retains none of it. The pain is sun-bright. It razes away everything else.

Scant feet away, a vehicle screeches, and an automobile, out of control, smashes into the apple cart. There’s shouting, screaming. The vendor is gaping at the wreckage that is his livelihood. The man he was speaking to gapes as well, first at the splintered remains of the automobile and the cart, then at the mashed apples, then at Jimmy. If Jimmy could see him, he would know, then, the difference between alarm and recognition.

Jimmy doesn’t see him. Jimmy is dead. 

:

Jimmy doesn’t wake up right away. First, he stops being dead. Then he’s sleeping. He’s aware when this happens, in the loosest sense of the word—there’s no dreaming, no out of body experience, nothing in particular to tether him to the world at all. But the body knows when it’s dead and when it’s not, and so Jimmy knows. He lays quietly, thoughtless, floating, starry, until his body decides to stop doing those things. Then he wakes up.

The first thing he notes is that he’s still starving. At least he’s no longer cold.

The ceiling is a bland beige, splotched with dull scorch marks. Not back in the castle, then. That’s good. He blinks. He blinks again. His eyes are crusty and dry. So is his mouth. It’s very, very dry in here, actually, and very hot. Practically boiling, but in an arid way. Now that he’s awake, his armpits and the small of his back start to prickle with sweat. He has to wrestle his arms out from under a heavy quilt to rub the last of the sleep and death from his face, and his palms scrape against chapped lips. Still, he’ll always take too hot over too cold.

“Hey, you’re awake,” says a voice. “How are you feeling?”

There’s a blaze hybrid standing in the middle of a small, round room. He’s stoking a little fireplace with—with his bare hands, by the looks of it. Wow. Jimmy’s never seen that before. 

The hybrid turns to him fully. He’s shorter than Jimmy, wiry and sharp all over. He has wild blond hair, swept back from his face, the ends of it wavering into candle-like flickers of flame. His eyes are red all the way through. A long, slender tail flicks behind him, tipped in a merry ball of orange flame.

“I’m okay,” Jimmy says neutrally. 

“That’s good. You, uh, looked like you were in a lot of pain before.”

Jimmy does his best not to react to that. Grian always chides him for wearing his heart on his sleeve. “Okay. I’m feeling much better now.”

“You look it,” says the blaze hybrid. Jimmy chances a glance at his expression, then away. Does he know? Impossible to tell—mostly he just looks relieved. “Do you remember what happened?”

He does, for the most part, though he doesn’t remember this man. But the faces were all blurring together at the end. “Kind of.”

The blaze hybrid scrapes a small wooden chair out from a small wooden table and drags it to Jimmy’s bedside. Jimmy does his best not to stiffen up too noticeably. The man throws himself into the chair, his limbs poking in different directions like an awkward bundle of sticks.

“We were in the market. You looked like you were in pain,” he says. “A lot of pain. You called me and the apple vendor over to you, and then a carriage took out the cart behind us. Then you—” He pauses. “Passed out. I brought you here.”

Passed out. Jimmy doesn’t correct him. Instead he focuses on the “here,” and how very not a doctor’s office “here” is. Unless this man is the town doctor, and this is just the very cluttered and unsanitary place he practices medicine. Or maybe he’s a trained healer so he saw no need for a doctor? This could be innocent. It could mean nothing. 

Stupid, says a voice in his head that sounds like Joel. He knows. 

Jimmy does not panic. He is so so good at not panicking. “Well. Thank you. For that. Um. And—and where is here, exactly?”

“Oh! Yeah, of course. Welcome to my home!” The blaze hybrid throws out an arm, gesturing to the small room: the tiny fireplace, the tiny table, the tiny dresser, the few utilitarian appliances and the many tinkering knick knacks scattered all over that Jimmy can’t make heads or tails of. “Temporary home. Place I’ve been renting for a few months, I guess. Welcome either way.”

“Thank you,” Jimmy says again. Still in town, it sounds like. Okay. Okay. He can work with this. What would Joel and Grian do? Fight their way out. Not really an option for Jimmy; he’s always frail after revival, unlikely to win a fight or a foot race. But he’ll figure it out. And the blaze hybrid might not know who he is. Probably. Definitely!

The blaze hybrid says, “Sorry if this is forward, but. You’re the king’s canary, aren’t you?”

“I don’t like that name,” Jimmy says immediately, like an idiot. Death always muddles his brain, blunts his filter. “I—I actually have to go, right now, immediately. Places to see, people to go, you understand how it is, thank you again for the help—”

He lurches for the side of the bed, where the floor, predictably, rises to meet him. Less predictably, the blaze hybrid catches him around the shoulders.

“Hey, hey! Careful, man, slow down.” He pushes Jimmy back to the bed. Jimmy wishes he could say it was forceful, but Jimmy's pretty sure he's just as weak as a foal, and terrified out of his mind. He must do a poor job of hiding it, because the man makes a funny sound in the back of his throat. “Oh, I’m not—I’m not going to, like, turn you in or anything. No one else recognized you, and I didn’t tell them. Don’t worry about that.”

Jimmy will absolutely worry about that, thank you very much. “Um. Okay.”

The blaze hybrid holds up his hands. “I mean it. You’re safe here. The only reason I asked is because I was wondering if it was your, uh, power that happened? Back at the apple cart? I think that’s what happened, I just wanted to be sure.”

This feels like a trap. Like the king’s men are just outside the door, waiting for confirmation before they burst in and drag him back, where Ren will likely soliloquize about loyalty and betrayal and then Martyn will lob off his head. But if that were the case, shouldn’t they have already done the bursting and the dragging? Jimmy all but confessed his identity two seconds ago. He sees no way out of it now.

He nods, just once. 

“I thought so.” The blaze hybrid's eyes are deeply red. Fire dances inside them. Jimmy can’t tell if it’s reflection from the fire or something inner and innate. “Thank you. You saved my life.”

Jimmy swallows. “You’re welcome.”

“Seriously. Thank you.” He reaches out and squeezes Jimmy’s shoulder. He’s smiling. “So: don’t call you canary. Got it. What should I call you?”

“Jimmy,” Jimmy says, after he fails to think of a proper alias that isn’t Joel or Grian or King Ren. “Jimmy Solidarity.”

“Jimmy Solidarity. I’m Tango, of the Tek variety. You can just call me Tango.”

Jimmy nods. He doesn’t know what else to say. 

Tango says, “You hungry?”

Is he trying to stall Jimmy long enough for the king’s men to get here? Most likely. Jimmy’s stomach decides he doesn’t care. “Oh my gosh yes please I’m starved.”

:

Three bowls of blaze powder soup later (better than what was being sold in the street, if only because it is now in Jimmy’s belly), Jimmy finally feels like more of a human again. 

“Thank you,” he sighs, reclining back on the pillows of Tango's bed. The bowl is still warm in his hands. He’s loath to let go of it. “That was amazing. I’m, uh. Sorry if I took too much.”

Tango is still on his first serving. He laughs, and it doesn’t sound mean-spirited at all. “Dude, don’t worry about it! Nothing a chef likes more than someone enjoying his food.”

Jimmy swirls his spoon through the creamy broth at the bottom of the bowl. “Is that what you are? A chef?”

“Nah, not really. I just like cooking. Sometimes you gotta have a hobby that’s just for you, not for money, you know?”

“Sure.” It’s not something Jimmy has ever thought about, but he likes the idea. “Um, I should. I should probably go.”

“Okay,” Tango says easily. “You want some tea before you head out?”

Jimmy might actually cry. “Yespleaseohmygosh.”

:

The tea is even better than the soup, spiced and fragrant, smoky in the aftertaste. Somehow, against all odds, the company is even better.

Rather than being a wildly successful chef, Tango works with a nomadic troupe of demolitionists. Not a job Jimmy’s ever heard of before, but it sounds cool when Tango describes it. According to Tango and his expansive hand gestures, the redstone wizardry boom has resulted in cities and infrastructure rapidly expanding, deconstructing, rebuilding. In the chaos—his eyes brighten with the word—there’s opportunity for innovation, discovery, entrepreneurs. 

“And blowing stuff up in creative ways,” he adds. “So that’s always fun. I just figured out how to make the buildings implode instead of explode—reduces debris and collateral damage, and just looks awesome.”

“That’s amazing,” Jimmy says sincerely, and Tango’s smile glows, literally. It is suddenly imperative that Jimmy break eye contact.

“Another cup?” Tango asks.

Jimmy wants to, very badly. He’s enjoying talking to Tango. He’s enjoying the warmth and the tea and the conversation where both parties see each other as people, instead of a tool or a burden. “I should probably get going.”

“Oh,” Tango says, then laughs, a little bashful. “Yeah, of course. Look at me, chatting your ear off! Let’s get you up.”

He takes Jimmy’s cup and then his arm in a firm, claw-tipped grip. His hand is bony and pleasantly hot. With his support Jimmy finds his feet, and manages three whole steps before his knees buckle.

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Tango catches him, and leads him back to the edge of the bed. “You okay, buddy?”

“I’m fine,” Jimmy says. He feels a little lightheaded, a little breathless, more than a little humiliated. “This just happens when I—it just happens sometimes. I’m used to it.”

“Do you want to rest up a little longer?”

“I really should get going. You’ve done enough for me as it is.”

Tango nods slowly. “How far are you headed?”

“Far.”

“Right.” 

A pause. Jimmy clasps his hands between his knees and wills strength into his body. Usually it takes about three hours after revival to fully recover, not that Jimmy will tell Tango that. It’s not like he hasn’t had to get up and go minutes after death before. Ren was the target of back to back assassination attempts once, and Jimmy made do then. He can feel Tango reappraising him, the paleness of his face, his worn clothes and unwashed hair. He struggles not to shrink on himself.

This was a nice reprieve—a lovely surprise after a terrible death. He needs to leave before he ruins it. Oversteps Tango’s bounds, annoys him, reveals himself as something to be used or pitied.

Tango hovers, then sits beside him. 

“It’s just that…you still look kinda iffy, dude. Is there anyone I could bring you to? Anyone you trust to help you get…wherever you’re going?”

“I do,” Jimmy says quickly, eager not to be thought of as pathetically alone. “I mean, I did. I mean—I don’t, anymore. They wouldn’t have been safe, is all, with the whole on the run thing, and anyway, they wouldn’t have—that is, I…” He trails off, and says lamely, “It’s complicated.” 

Tango’s voice softens. “Okay. I get that.”

They sit together. Tango offers him another cup of tea; Jimmy takes it. He blows across the surface, watches the flecks of leaves bob on rippling waves. 

After a minute, Tango claps his hands on his knees and stands up. 

“Well hey, if you’re going to go you should at least go in some good shoes.”

He crosses the small apartment to the door, where Jimmy’s tattered shoes are propped up against the frame. Instead he grabs the sturdy pair of work boots beside them. 

Jimmy blanches. “I can’t take your shoes!” 

“Sure you can.” Tango sizes up Jimmy’s foot, decides it’s close enough, and pushes the boots into his arms. “They’re my extra pair, so you’re not putting me out. They might be a little snug, but I think snug is better than what you were working with.”

“That’s not the point! You’ve done too much for me. I can’t take your food and your tea and your shoes, I just can’t.”

Tango gives him an amused look. “Okay, but you saved my life, remember? I value that a little more than an extra pair of shoes. Take ’em. I insist.”

Jimmy does take them, but only because Tango also tries to give him new clothes, cloak, and packed-up food, which he turns down. This time when Tango helps him up, though Jimmy teeters, he keeps his feet.

Outside it’s still winter. In the warmth of Tango’s apartment, Jimmy had almost forgotten. Since his death night has fallen, and the streets are empty and bitterly cold. 

“You’re sure I can’t convince you to rest a little longer?” Tango asks.

Jimmy draws his cloak tight around his shoulders. “Long way to go, I’m afraid. Thank you for everything.”

Jimmy looks back at him. It’s the first time he’s looked into Tango’s face in a while: he’s pointy all over, angular, bordering on gaunt. He’s a candle in the dark. His smile is tinged with concern.

“No need to thank me,” he says. “I hope you get where you’re going, Jimmy. Take care.”

He offers his hand. Jimmy shakes it. If either of them linger, Jimmy tells himself it’s only because Tango is so warm. 

Jimmy walks away. With every step further he remembers that he’s a fugitive, and that he needs to go quickly, quietly, and carefully. On to the next town, and the next, and the next, until he’s run out of towns entirely and has made it to where the sky is blue and the horizon opens into forever. He looks back once, and sees Tango still standing there, waving. He looks back again, but now the door has closed, and Jimmy doesn’t know which window was Tango’s. The gifted boots squeeze gently at his toes.

His hands twitch with splinters as he reenters the market square, where the stalls have been folded up for the night and the street is empty. 

Only it’s not empty. The owner of the apple cart is despairing over the broken remains, picking through sharp shards of wood. He hisses and shakes out his hands. Jimmy grimaces. He tugs his hood lower and turns on his heel.

“Hey,” the man calls behind him. “Hey you!”

Jimmy walks faster.

“You! You’re the one who—stop, blast it! You owe me a new cart!”

“I really don’t, actually,” says Jimmy, dropping his voice two octaves. A hand grabs his shoulder. Jimmy’s wings protest, pushing back hard under the cloak. The hand is shaken off. So is his hood.

“It’s you,” the man says.

“No it isn’t,” says Jimmy.

“It is! You’re the canary! That reward could buy me a whole fleet of new carts.” He looks around wildly. 

“Please don’t,” says Jimmy, but the man is already hollering. 

“I’ve got him! I’ve got the canary, guards! Someone!”

Jimmy turns to run but the man seizes the back of his cloak. His hand closes on the arch of a wing, and Jimmy yelps.

“Hey! Let go of him!”

There’s the distinct, winding pain of a body shouldering hard into Jimmy's ribs. Then Tango is tackling the man to the ground.

Jimmy goes sprawling. He struggles to his knees through the phantom dings and scratches of two men wrestling on cobblestone. Behind him, Tango is fuming, “What the hell, man! He saved your life, what are you doing?” 

All along the street, lights are coming on. Doors are opening. Heads poking out. Eyes going wide. The town is folding in on him. Jimmy can’t breathe.

And Tango is above him, once again.

“Come on!”

He offers his hand. Jimmy takes it.

They run.

:

Grian and Joel would have come with him. 

If he’d asked. If he’d told them. Of course they would have. They would have protected him, taken care of him. They would have sighed and scoffed the entire time. They would have resented him, and made sure he knew exactly how much of an inconvenience this was, and didn’t he know he was upending all their lives, and why couldn’t Jimmy just do his job? He was always causing problems, and never considering the effect it had on others. 

The moment Jimmy revived on the cold marble of the throne room and realized he had to leave was the same moment he realized he couldn’t bring Joel and Grian with him. He couldn’t even tell them. They would have insisted on joining, whether Jimmy wanted them to or not. Whether they wanted to or not. They cared for him; they would risk implication and conspiracy for him. And they would never let him forget it.

He’ll never see them again. That hurts too much to think about, so he doesn’t. 

:

“I’ve ruined your life.” 

“You haven’t ruined my life, come on.”

“I have, I absolutely have. Your home—”

“My temporary home.”

“Your temporary home, your job, all your things. Poof! All gone, Tango! Because you helped me!” 

Tango is starfished flat on his back. Jimmy is making the ground’s acquaintance with his face. They fled down the darker road out of town, figuring they were less likely to be followed, and after an hour of hard running, they both pancaked in the dirt. Jimmy has too many cramps to name, and a doubled echo of Tango’s cramps on top of that. The stars above feel judgmental. Jimmy is glad to stare at hard-packed earth instead.

“Oh my gosh, you’re my accomplice now,” he moans. “They’re going to be looking for you too. Tango, your life is over, I’ve ruined it.”

A warm hand pats at Jimmy’s back with infinite, undeserved patience. “You didn’t ruin anything, buddy. I mean it! This is for the better, if you think about it.”

“For the better. Ha.” Jimmy spits out a little bit of dirt. “How?”

“Like you said, that place was temporary. My team will pick up my stuff, so I haven’t lost any of it. Well, except for what Bdubs will scavenge. That’s a given.” Tango waves a hand like being forced to abandon his entire life in the dead of night is hand-wavable. “And the good thing about working with your buds is that they’ll always have a job for you if you need it, so no harm there. Honestly, demolition was fun, but I’ve been thinking of trying something new for a while now.” 

“You’re a wanted man now. How are you going to go back? You’ll be arrested on sight.”

“Pshaw. One guy saw me help you.”

“The whole town saw you help me!”

“Hey, you’re the one they’re after, not me. By the time I get back, they’ll have completely forgotten I exist. Tango Tek who?”

Jimmy rolls his head to one side to give Tango a flat look. Tango is already looking back at him. He looks amused. That makes no sense.

“Okay, honesty time? I wanted to offer to go with you before,” Tango says. “Help you get wherever you’re going. But you seemed pretty jumpy, and I thought it would freak you out. Offer’s still on the table, though. I like traveling new places, seeing new things. Makes for good machination inspiration. And two is safer than one, right?”

“You don’t know me,” Jimmy says. His voice is weak. 

“I don’t know how many times I can say this, but you literally saved my life. That makes you a pretty cool guy in my book.” He looks Jimmy dead in the eye, and says simply, “You seem like you could use some help. I’d like to help.”

Jimmy believes him. In the back of his mind he can hear Joel and Grian taunting: just like Timmy to trust the first stranger he meets. Can’t ever hack it alone, can you, Tim? Probably he’s about to run off with some maniac bent on selling his curse to the highest bidder. Or an opportunist who intends to hold this favor over his head for the rest of his life. Would be just like him to get into hot water like that. Sure, it would be nice if there were someone out there who really wanted to help for the sake of helping, and it would be nice if doing so didn’t lead to resentment or blackmail or a direct ticket back to the castle. But that person is a fantasy. That person doesn’t exist.

But Jimmy believes him.

He sniffles. Some dust goes up his nose. “We don’t even have a torch.”

“Okay, you got me there,” Tango concedes. “We’ll need to get some supplies in the next town. Oh—here, this is yours.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out Jimmy’s coin purse.

“It’s why I followed you. You left it in my apartment.”

Jimmy just gapes, so Tango plops the purse on his back. 

“Take your time,” he says, generously.

Jimmy does take his time. After a few long seconds of fish-mouthing, he says, “I hope you took some. I was going to bribe you into not giving me up.”

Tango snickers. “Darn. Missed my chance. Guess you’ll just have to buy our first meal instead.”

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t. Even if Tango is being genuine, Jimmy is still a wanted man. Bringing him along could only put him in danger. Grian and Joel would be judging him so, so hard if they knew.

But Grian and Joel aren’t here.

“Deal,” Jimmy says.

Tango smiles. Jimmy dares to smile back.

Then Jimmy yelps at the ghost of sharp fangs sinking into his neck. “Ow ow ow—Tango, spider! Spider spider spider!”

“What spider where now—whoa!”

Jimmy yanks him up just as a spider the size of his torso skitters out of the forest, barely missing a lunge for Tango’s face. 

The spider chases them a full second hour until torches intersperse the road again. If this had happened yesterday—or even a few hours ago—Jimmy is sure he’d have burst into tears. 

But Tango makes this funny yelp-laugh sound when he screams, and when they finally reach safety, he cheers. Jimmy, despite himself, cheers too.

:

The next town is close enough to reach by afternoon the next day. They walk through the night and arrive exhausted, unwashed, hungry, and in better spirits than Jimmy expected. By a lot, actually. Turns out sharing misery halves it instead of doubling. Who knew?

Jimmy tries to keep a low profile while Tango goes to retrieve food and supplies. Waiting in an alley with nothing but his thoughts (and Grian and Joel’s imaginary advice), feeling equal parts conspicuous and insignificant, he half-expects Tango to return with guards. Maybe more than half. Even if it hadn’t all been a ruse to gain his trust and turn on him when most profitable, Jimmy finds it hard to believe Tango won’t come to regret his decision when he realizes what deadweight Jimmy is.

But all Tango returns with is two loaves of bread stuffed with roasted peppers and Jimmy’s exact change. He even managed to secure lodging. The innkeeper refused to give them a two-person room when she hadn’t vetted the second person, so Tango conceded to a single. Then he helps Jimmy climb through the window in the back. There’s a lot of flailing and scrambling and frantically beating wings, but once they’re through, Jimmy lays flat on the floor and stares up at the ceiling in wonder.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Jimmy says breathlessly. “You’re a genius.”

“Aw shucks.” The flame on Tango’s tail flares and puffs. “Thanks, man!”

They crowd onto the tiny bed and Jimmy is out as soon as his head hits the pillow. He wonders, as he falls asleep, if maybe Tango cut the innkeeper in, and he’ll wake to guards waiting to arrest him and Martyn laughing at him for thinking he got away, and Tango and the innkeeper splitting the reward money…

He wakes twelve hours later to Tango fiddling with some new redstone contraption. He sees Jimmy’s awake and says, “Morning, buddy!” Then he hands him a bowl of oats with fresh winter fruit, and a hot cup of spiced tea. 

:

In the next town, Tango sells his little redstone doohickey, and uses the money to pay for their meals. It’s only fair, he says. And when Jimmy protests that bankrolling the trip is the least he can do for all the help, Tango just laughs.

“Back with my crew, we split everything evenly,” he says. “Theoretically, anyway, when we weren’t enabling Etho’s spending habit and Bdubs wasn’t trying to weasel his way out of it. Regardless! We should be supporting each other equally. That’s what partners do, right?”

Partners. Jimmy doesn’t trust himself not to say something stupid, so he just nods. Partners. That sounds nice.

:

On the road, they talk about their people.

Skizz, Impulse, Bdubs, Etho—Tango’s demolition crew, a cast of colorful characters. “You’d like them. They’re good guys. Skizz especially, he’s my bestie. Nicest guy in the overworld.”

Tango has loads of stories, a broad range from heartwarming moments with Skizz to absurd adventures with Bdubs to wild tales of Etho that make Jimmy question whether he’s a real person or not.

“He soloed a wither once,” Tango declares proudly.

“No way.”

“He did.”

“No way! You’re lying.”

“Jimmy,” Tango gasps, scandalized. “Would I lie to you?”

Jimmy’s gut instinct, for some reason, is no. “No one can solo a wither.”

“Etho can. Though if you asked Bdubs, he’d tell you he soloed it. Now that’s a lie.”

Jimmy hums. Night is falling rapidly but the sky clings to a deep, dusty orange. Joel always says that means snow.

“Grian and Joel might be able to take down a wither together,” he says. “Especially if I was there to help them. Definitely not alone, though.”

“You talk about Grian and Joel a lot,” Tango says, a gentle invitation. 

“Oh, sure. I spent most of my life with those jerks. Don't really remember anything before I met Grian. I think I lived by the sea?” He daydreams sometimes about sparkling blue that stretches on forever. He’s not sure if it’s a memory or a dream. “But then I got saddled with Joel and Grian, and we kept each other alive. Or I kept them alive with my curse, not that they’d be caught dead saying thank you, no sir.” 

He chuckles, and thinks to stop there. But Tango is watching him and smiling. Jimmy snaps his eyes back to the sky. 

“I sort of grew out of my wings as I got older, can’t really fly with them, you know? But I could fly when I was a kid, and there I was, zooming through the trees, when bam! I get slapped in the face by some invisible brick wall, and that makes me bam! smack right into a tree. A second later, and bam! Grian smashes into a tree right next to me. Turns out he was flying behind me, saw me crash, and that made him crash, and his crash is what made me crash in the first place.” 

Tango laughs. “Feedback loop of pain, huh? That’s how you met?”

“Yep. Then we found Joel two years later, and that was that. Locked in with two bullies. We kept each other alive. Or I kept them alive with my curse, not that they’d be caught dead saying thank you, no sir! They’re my—” 

He almost says brothers. Thank goodness he didn’t. Even the thought of Grian and Joel’s ridicule makes his cheeks burn with shame. 

“They’re my roommates, kind of. Or they were, before I started working for Ren and living in the castle. They’re why I stuck around so long, actually.”

The way their jaws had dropped, the first time he gave them their cut. He’d had the thought: I can finally repay you. I can finally be of use.

“They were the first ones who called me a canary,” Jimmy says, brightening. “It was just a joke. An annoying one that I hated, but it was ours, so I didn’t really mind that much. Martyn heard it once, and he told Ren, and, well.” He stares hard at the orange sky. “Kind of got overdone, after that.”

“Yeah,” Tango says. When Jimmy glances over, his smile is a little dim. “I bet it would.”

He seems glum. Jimmy doesn't like that. "You know, Joel has a curse too. Turns into a big monster at night. Needs true love's kiss to break it, the whole thing."

"Yeah?" Tango perks up. "What kind of monster?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Jimmy says breezily.

Tango's grinning again. Thank goodness. "Try me."

:

Money was always tight, when it was just the three of them. Jimmy minded, of course, though not as much as Joel and Grian did. Privately he liked that it was them against the world. The worst part, to him, were the nights they had to split a thin serving of broth and Grian and Joel were in foul enough moods to needle Jimmy for not pulling his weight.

Still, they made ends meet. And there at the end, they were even doing well. Jimmy can confidently say that Grian’s the best architect in the kingdom, and his reputation was only ever growing. He was commissioned by some nobles in the capital. This is the one, boys, this one changes everything, Grian would say, over and over, and Joel would grumble, it blummin’ better be, how much you keep banging on about it, but he’d catch Grian and Jimmy in headlocks and knuckle at their hair, so he was excited too.

They got to the capital. It was bigger and busier than any place Jimmy had ever been, built into the shadow of the king’s castle. While he worked, Joel took up odd jobs throughout the city. He was hired to clear out a nest of phantoms that was terrorizing the outer districts. He let Jimmy tag along.

Jimmy felt the death coming up on him. Claws raking his back, tearing his throat. He swung around, looking for Joel, and saw a king’s guard instead. He was bleeding and exhausted. Jimmy tackled him out of reach of a phantom’s talons; somewhere in the distance Joel screamed Timmy!; before the pain had a chance to fade, Jimmy shuddered. Jimmy died.

Jimmy un-died in the castle. Joel and Grian were nowhere to be seen. Instead there was the king’s guard, who was actually the king’s hand, who was actually Martyn.

Your whole life’s about to turn around, mate, Martyn said. You’re welcome.

:

“Why didn’t you turn me in?” 

He manages to rein the question back three more days, until it pops free on the road. It’s started to snow, just a handful of delicate flakes that Tango tries to catch in his mouth. He’s looking at Jimmy, frozen, with big eyes and a pointed tongue poking out of his mouth.

The question is still as ill-advised as it would have been on day one. He’s sure Grian would think so. Why would you bother putting the idea in his head, he would say, why push it? Grian is smart about things like this, keeps his cards close to the vest. Joel is more forward, likes to know things upfront, doesn’t mind being confrontational about it. But Joel wins fights that Jimmy doesn’t. He’d say it’s plain stupid.

Tango doesn’t say it’s stupid. He says, “Yeah, that’s fair. I’d want to know too.”

It makes Jimmy feel almost reasonable for asking. Tango wipes his mouth and kicks thoughtfully at the road. 

He says, “I’ve got no loyalty to the king. Nothing against the guy, I’ve heard some good things, but I’m netherborn, right? And I barely feel any national pride there, so not much obligation here.” 

“There’s a reward,” Jimmy points out. Imaginary Joel and Grian groan in frustration.

Tango’s eyes narrow skeptically. “Sure, but you didn’t commit a crime, did you? Unless I read that article wrong. Seems to me you just left your job. You should get to quit like anyone else. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

He says it so simply. Just as simply as Jimmy thought it was.

“I mean,” Jimmy says, “I did steal some bread.”

Tango barks a laugh. “Well, now I have to turn you in. Moral obligation.”

Jimmy nods solemnly. “It’s only right. Clap me in irons, throw away the key.”

Tango keeps laughing. His nose scrunches with it. Jimmy feels a little silly for being so proud. He’s made loads of people laugh before, thank you very much. It’s just that he’s usually the butt of the joke instead of the one making it.

He likes making Tango laugh. It’s a nice laugh.

It doesn’t snow much longer, but they spend the time counting who can catch more snowflakes on their tongue. Jimmy wins by one.

:

“Here,” Jimmy pushes one horn into Tango’s hands. He’s so excited. 

Tango turns it over, as confused as intrigued. “Is this an animal horn? Where did you get this?”

“Just now, when I went to the bathroom! There was a goat out there, it tried to kill me—”

“What—”

“Honestly it shouldn’t even be here, Grian says they only live in the mountains. But it missed, and it broke its horns off against a tree trunk.”

“Wow.” Tango admires the color and the shine, the smooth break and the grooves in the dark keratin. “It’s so cool.”

“It gets cooler.” Jimmy lifts his horn to his lips. A sweet note carries, and a flock of birds take to the sky. Tango’s jaw is on the floor. 

“How’d you do that?”

“Grian knew how, and he showed me and Joel,” he says. “I thought if we were separated, or lost, or see a threat or something, we could blow this to find each other.”

Tango’s eyes are shining. “That’s an awesome idea. Can you show me?”

:

Not every town can be reached in one hard day’s walk. Sometimes they have to camp out on the road, laying out bedrolls and building fires to keep winter at bay. Tonight it’s cold enough that Tango gives Jimmy his extra bedding; he’s netherborn, he says, so he doesn’t need as much to keep warm. They keep the fire high and scoot the bedrolls close, talking too late into the night. And Jimmy just…tells him.

“You’re going to build a ranch?” Tango asks. 

He sounds surprised. He probably looks surprised, not that Jimmy would know, since he’s having trouble looking at him.

The ranch isn’t something he likes to talk about. Every time he says it out loud, it sounds sillier, so he tries to keep it tucked safe and close behind his heart. He mentioned it to Joel and Grian once, though he’s sure they don’t remember it. Why would they? They’d been so dismissive at the time. There aren’t enough riches in the world that could convince me to sell you a farm, let alone teach you how to run it, Grian had sneered. Joel pointed out that even if there were, no one in their right mind would stick around once they realized what a slow study Jimmy was. Jimmy felt small, and he never mentioned it again.

With Tango, he told him only as much as he needed to. They were heading out of the forest biome and into the plains, where the land unfurled into smooth, rolling prairies and burst with sunflowers. The logic was sound enough on the surface: Ren’s borders ended with the biome, and with one step past Jimmy would be free and clear. Tango was just glad to visit somewhere he’d never been before. He didn’t ask further questions, and Jimmy didn’t offer further answers.

But they’ve been traveling together for weeks, now. Tango has never made Jimmy feel small. 

“I’m not planning on building one, exactly,” Jimmy mumbles. He busies his hands by sitting up and thrusting his hands at the fire. A talent of Tango’s: he can build a beautiful fire in three minutes flat. “Grian’s a way better builder than I am. I’m just hoping to buy it off of someone. Something small, if the owner was already hoping to retire or something. And then I’ll pay them extra to stay on a little while and teach me how to run things.”

Tango sits up too. “That’s an awesome idea.”

Jimmy’s head snaps up. “Really?”

“Yeah, man! Way better to admit when you need help than to crash and burn just because you tried to tough it out alone. Keeping the old rancher on until you’ve got the hang of it is smart.”

Tango looks genuinely impressed. He looks admiring. Jimmy’s wings start to flutter. 

“Do you know anything about running a ranch?” Tango asks. He doesn’t sound accusing like Joel, or mocking like Grian. Just curious.

“Not really,” Jimmy admits. “But I’m pretty good with animals, and I don’t mind hard work. It might take me a while to get the hang of something, but I’ll stick with it until I do.”

“That’s great,” Tango says earnestly. “I think it’s way more useful to be able to stick to something than to be good at it right away.”

One of Joel and Grian’s favorite pastimes was poking fun of Jimmy until he shouted and flustered, and then laughing at how splotchy he got. They said he looked like he had a rash. He hopes he’s not as pink as he feels now. “Thanks,” he says again.

Tango leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes bright. “What kind of animals will you have?”

Jimmy hums. “Chickens, for sure. Lots of cows. A couple goats, I think. Maybe a warden?”

Tango’s laugh is surprised and delighted. “A warden?”

“Yeah. I was thinking like—if I could train it, then maybe it could use it’s sonic thing to round up the herd. Is that weird?”

“No, I love it! Wardens are so cool, and we know so little about them. Plus they’re kind of cute, in a scary monster way.”

Jimmy beams. “Exactly! Tango, I could not possibly agree more.”

“You’d have to bring that one up from the underdark yourself,” Tango says thoughtfully. He lights up like a firefly. “I could help you! I bet I could think of a way to get it safely to the surface.”

“You definitely could, that’s not even a question. You’re brilliant.”

Tango’s eyes go ruby round. Jimmy’s mouth opens and shuts. Should he take it back? He should take it back. 

But Tango just smiles, broad and lopsided. “Thanks, Jimmy.”

“You’re—” Jimmy’s voice cracks. God damn it. “You’re welcome, Tango.”

They stare at each other. Tango says, “You have frost in your eyelashes.”

Jimmy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Huh?”

“You have—” Tango clears his throat. “You know, because it’s so cold. It doesn’t happen to me because I run too hot, so I just, uh. I noticed.”

“Oh,” says Jimmy.

Tango nods, pink at the ears. He turns quickly to the fire, stoking it with a few deliberate pokes of his fingers, then says a little too loud, “I’d love to make some mazes for your animals. The warden especially. Obstacle course type things, you know, for enrichment.”

They're just daydreaming. Jimmy knows that. But he wants it. It’s a little too revealing, how much he wants it. 

He wraps his arms around his knees and rests his chin on them. “Yeah? Like what?”

:

The good news is that they’re getting closer to the border, if Jimmy’s map is to be believed. The bad news is that they misjudge the distance to the next town and run out of food a full three days before they get there. Tango slaps together ingenius redstone traps to catch hares that tide them over, but that doesn’t stop them from ordering two full stews each when they finally come upon a tavern, nor does it stop them from hunkering down right outside the building and inhaling the stew in companionable, ravenous silence. 

Deep into the second bowl, Tango giggles, “Oh no, we’re pathetic.”

Jimmy thinks that yeah, they kind of are. He thinks, maybe, he doesn’t mind being pathetic with Tango.

:

Working for the king wasn’t so bad. It really wasn’t. 

On his good days Ren was generous, kind, goofy and forgiving. He cared about his subjects’ problems and pushed for the industrialization that improved quality of life throughout the kingdom. He treated Jimmy like a subject instead of an equal, but like a subject he was respectful of. Most of the time. Half the time.

The issue was that, the other half the time, he stopped being the good King Ren and started being the Red King. Vicious and uncompromising. A nose for weakness and for bloodshed. Jimmy suspects it’s a curse, though it’s clear he’s not eager to break it. He makes lots of enemies, the Red King does. Jimmy knows that better than anyone. Once he died impaled on a traitorous guard’s spear. When he came to, curled around a wound that wasn’t there, Martyn was beheading the would-be assassin three feet away, the spear was cracked in half at the foot of the throne, and the Red King was howling with laughter. 

Never look him in the eye, when he’s like that. Never expect an apology. Never expect to be free.

But reiterate how generous he was. Happy to pay for Jimmy’s services, and provide him with safety, food, comfort. On Jimmy’s first day he said, The crown appreciates your service, lad. You have been touched by divinity to prove our birthright by providence, and for this we shall be gracious. How might we show our appreciation? No price is too high for the king.

Jimmy is still surprised he managed to stop quaking long enough to request a stipend for his family. (Family sounded more sympathetic than roommates, he figured. He was glad Joel and Grian weren’t around to hear.) 

Martyn looked annoyed by the request, imposing at the king’s right side, and Jimmy tried to clarify, something modest, please, but Ren didn’t hesitate. The first payment was enough to set the three of them up for life, if they were scrupulous. The second payment ensured they could live comfortably without having to work another day ever again. The third payment was excess, and it never stopped. Grian and Joel were overjoyed. 

Tango is frowning. It’s a strange look on his narrow face. Jimmy has rarely seen him without a smile.

“I guess that’s generous,” he says, slowly.

“It was,” Jimmy insists. He fingers the leather pouch weighed down by his earnings. More than enough to get him where he’s going and then some. The Red King may be waiting to kill him for abandoning his post, but Jimmy can’t deny that the only reason he has any chance at all is because of his kindness.

“Right. Right.” Tango scrubs a hand through his hair—it sends sparks flying off the ends. Jimmy watches them swirl with the snow, and then he watches Tango’s mouth purse as he makes funny humming and scoffing sounds. Jimmy looks back at the sparks again with renewed focus.

“It’s just,” Tango blurts, “You didn’t really have a choice, right? I guess it was nice that he paid you, but you weren’t allowed to say no to the job offer, because it wasn’t really an offer. And obviously you weren’t allowed to leave.”

Jimmy shifts uncomfortably. “I guess. What’s your point?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t think you should be defending him, is all. He forced you to hurt for him. He didn’t give you a choice. You shouldn’t have to be grateful.” 

His eyes are fierce. Striking, hot like live coals. The sharp angles of him look harsh in a way that Jimmy’s never seen before. He doesn’t know what to say. 

The indignance goes out of Tango’s shoulders. His tail curls. “Sorry. Not my place.”

Jimmy thinks of agreeing with him. Instead he says, “Don’t be. That’s nice of you to say. Thanks.”

Tango smiles, but it doesn’t have the spark it usually does. They walk for a few more hours. Tango’s silence is uncharacteristic, and it makes Jimmy antsy. He feels like he’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know how to fix it. 

Eventually they decide to take a break before the next leg. Not for long, if they want to sleep in beds tonight, but it’s good to get off their feet for a little while. Jimmy nibbles at some jerky and sips at his waterskin. The only downside to the break is how the winter reasserts itself. He very carefully does not wince at the cold water that needles down his throat.

“Here,” says Tango. 

He holds out his hand for the waterskin. Jimmy gives it to him, though he knows he has his own. Tango clasps it firmly between both hands, and after a moment, hands it back. Steam puffs cheerily from the top. The next sip Jimmy takes is hot enough to make him shiver. 

“Thank you,” he sighs. He takes another scalding gulp and shuts his eyes to focus on the warmth as it flushes through his chest and belly. “You’re amazing, Tango.”

Tango says, “You know, I worked in a coal mine.” 

It catches Jimmy off guard. “You did?”

“Yeah, for about a year. They hired me as an engineer, to make things safer and more efficient. Not an easy balance, but a fun challenge.” Tango licks his lips, then says, “I actually worked with canaries. Designed an apparatus that resuscitated them when they passed out.”

“You did?” Jimmy says again. Broken record, Joel would say. Jimmy can’t be bothered to care. His chest is winding tight.

“Yeah.” There’s something off about Tango’s face, his voice. He looks a little earnest. He looks sad. “The owners of the mines weren’t too interested, but the miners themselves, they took as many as I could make. We all loved the little guys. Didn’t want to see them get hurt.”

“Oh,” Jimmy says. “That’s really cool.”

It’s a silly thing to cry over, so he doesn’t. He does indulge in a moment of bravery and reach out to hold Tango’s hand in his. Tango just runs his thumb over Jimmy’s knuckles, over and over. He doesn’t let go, even when they make it to town and a room and a bed.  

When Jimmy wakes the next morning, Tango is still holding his hand.

:

“Tango!”

Tango jumps up with a start, sending the wood for their fire pit scattering. “What! What’s up? Are we running?”

“No no no—” Jimmy skids to a stop in front of him, wings flaring for balance. He’s grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. “That caravan we just passed. There was an old woman in the last cart, did you see her?”

Tango, gathering the sticks back up again, gives him a quizzical look. “Yeah?”

“Right, well, she had a thorn in her foot, I could feel it, and I figured she wouldn’t recognize me because she could barely see. So we got to talking, and I took the thorn out—bunions the size of mountains, man, I’m telling you—and look! Look what she gave me!”

He sweeps his hands out from behind his back. The green glass bottles slosh and clink together. Tango’s jaw drops.

“Ohmygosh, is that—is that wine? Jimmy! That’s wine! You’re amazing!”

Jimmy laughs, triumphant. “I know! I’m amazing!”

They jump up and down for a while. 

“Okay okay okay, we should be smart about this,��� Tango says. He stops jumping but keeps flapping his hands. “If we’re careful, I bet we could make these last the rest of the trip.”

Jimmy nods rapidly. He’s already removed the stopper on the first bottle. “Right. Just a couple sips a night, to warm us up.”

He takes a swig, then hands the bottle to Tango. “Right! Just a night cap. We’ll play it smart.”

:

“Can you?” Jimmy asks, deep into the second bottle of wine.

Tango has been giggling for the past hour, this funny consonant sound like an ignition clicking. The more they drank the bigger he built the fire pit, until the flames roared higher than they are tall, but Tango is happy, so Jimmy is happy. “Absolutely! Can I what?” 

“Tango, Tango. Can you tango?”

Tango’s face is flushed. The pink clashes with the red of his eyes and the amber of the fire. Jimmy thinks it’s lovely. “Can I what?”

“Don’t laugh, this is an important question!” Jimmy is giggling too now. “I’ve wanted to ask you since we met. Do you actually know how to tango?”

“Jimmy.” Tango lifts his chin, expression sloppily stern. “What kind of question is that? Of course I know how to tango.”

Tango does not, in fact, know how to tango. They dance anyway, spinning and dipping and swinging each other in circles. They make flagrant and frankly ugly use of their horns. Tango nearly throws Jimmy into the fire by accident and then fishes him out at the last second. In return, Jimmy tries to lead Tango in a waltz he barely learned at the castle. They laugh so hard they stomp on each other’s feet.

They dance and dance and dance until they spin out of the safety of the firelight and get attacked by a skeleton. Then they stumble back to the fire and dance some more.

:

THE KING’S CANARY AND HIS COAL MINE?

“Is this kind of racist?” Jimmy asks. “It feels kind of racist. They’re calling you a whole coal mine.”

Jimmy and Tango squint together at the newspaper that nearly got them caught. Tango’s involvement has finally been noticed. His attempt to get them lodging for the night was met with guards and a frantic escape into the forest, where they crouched beneath a rotted old log until their legs fell asleep and their pursuers moved on. Then Tango pulled out the flier he’d grabbed in his haste.

He pokes at a short paragraph detailing his life. Well. His work history, mostly. “I think maybe it’s a reference to the fact that I used to work in a coal mine. I’m surprised they knew that.”

“Still feels kinda racist,” Jimmy says, then sighs. “I’m sorry, Tango. I knew you’d get caught up in my nonsense eventually, and it’s finally happened.”

Tango snorts. “I think I’ve been caught up in your nonsense for a while now, partner. This is like recognition for all my hard work! It’s kinda cool being on a wanted poster, huh? None of the other guys have bounties on their heads, not even Bdubs. I can’t wait to see their faces.” He prods Jimmy with a pointy elbow. “Guess we really are partners in crime now, huh?” 

Jimmy knows he should feel guilty. But Tango is smirking at him, like they’re sharing a secret, and Jimmy banks the warmth of it in his chest like like something to be hoarded and adored. “Guess so.”

Tango’s name in the papers means they have to avoid towns and main roads. Meaning, in turn, that the safest option is to just keep to the forest.

This is fine in the daylight. Exciting, even! Jimmy always marvels at how Tango keeps their energy up. Cutting through the forest is more direct than the roads, anyway. It’s a bit of a struggle, but they’re making good time.

Then night falls, and suddenly it’s mobs mobs mobs, and Jimmy is shrieking and fighting with creepers and zombies and spiders while Tango is scrambling to find a clearing and build a fire big enough to ward them off. Somehow, they manage, after many scrapes and bruises, but winter is only ever deepening. The cold reaches into Jimmy’s bones. All of his joints ache, and even with the fire beside them and all of Tango’s extra bedding he shakes so hard he can’t sleep. He tries to keep his teeth chattering to a minimum.

“Jimmy,” Tango whispers from the next bedroll. Jimmy cracks his eyes open. From one side Tango is lit up in gold, but from the other the moon bleaches all his warm hues blue. “Jim?”

Jimmy does not let himself stutter. “Yeah, Tango?”

“You’re still shivering.”

“Um. Yeah. I guess I am. Sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

Jimmy falters. “You already gave me all your blankets. I—I keep putting you out.”

“You’re not putting me out. Don’t think that.” 

His hand brushes Jimmy’s cheek. Jimmy sees it coming and still he jumps at the first brush of warm thin fingers.

“You’re freezing,” Tango says, brow screwing into a knot. He bites at his lips, his eyes wide and worried. Moonlight glints off the points of his teeth. “Okay, so—I run hot. Blaze hybrid and all. If you’re up for it, I think it would help a lot if—if I get in there with you? Insulation and body heat and stuff.”

Oh, Jimmy won’t freeze to death at all. His face is on fire. “You don’t have to, Tango.”

“I want to,” Tango blurts, a few sparks flaring off the ends of his hair. Then he subsides, fidgety and shy. “If you want to, I mean.”

“I want to,” Jimmy says. “That could—that might be nice. Thanks, Tango.”

Tango’s shoulders sag in relief. His smile is toothy and painfully awkward. “Okay. Cool. I’ll just, uh—wriggle on in then. Incoming.” 

Jimmy snorts. Tension, miraculously, dissipates. Tango does wriggle in, and when he’s done wriggling, he tucks the blankets under him to insulate the heat. The difference is instant, cocooning Jimmy in warmth so profound it practically tranquilizes him, eyelids suddenly heavier than bricks. He knows he should be embarrassed. Gratitude and affection drowns it out.

“Is that better?” Tango asks. 

“Yeah.”

“Good. Okay, good.”

His arm rests gingerly across Jimmy’s shoulders. Already half asleep, Jimmy nudges into the narrow cage of his body. His sternum is hard and Jimmy’s nose thaws against it. "Thanks, Tango." 

Tango’s arm relaxes. The world smells of spiced tea. "Always, Jimmy."

Jimmy sleeps better that night than all the many nights he’s spent on the road thus far. Better than any night in the castle. Better than he has in a long time.

:

They’re less than a day’s travel from the border when the snowstorm hits. While the sun is up Tango and Jimmy trudge and trudge and lob snowballs at each other, and when the sun is down they’re forced to cobble together some sort of shelter. Eventually Tango rigs up something droopy and wet that does nothing to keep out the cold but at least will keep them from being buried alive. 

“Oh my god, it’s awful,” Tango laughs.

“Shut up, it’s amazing,” Jimmy says, because it is.

They drink the very last of the wine and then hold each other close for the rest of the night. For the first time since Jimmy met him, Tango shivers. Jimmy holds him hard and tries his best to rub warmth into his back.

And then Jimmy gets caught.

:

It’s his own fault. Of course it is. It always is.

The snow has stopped by morning, but Tango is still shivering. His golden hair is just hair, no sparks or flames at all. His tail is barely a smoldering ember.

“I’m fine,” he assures Jimmy though cracked blue lips. “It’s just a cold, it’ll pass. Not so good in the rain and snow, is all. I’ll be right as rain in no time, don’t even w-worry about it.”

Jimmy does worry. The only food they have left is hardtack, and the only water is freezing cold. Tango’s so weak that he can't even heat it. “There’s a town near here. You rest, I’ll keep my head down and get you something warm to eat.”

“Don’t,” Tango says, but any sternness is undercut by his trembling. “I’m telling you, I’ll be fine. If we get going now we’ll make it to the border before sundown. I’m serious, Jimmy, don’t.”

“I won’t go,” Jimmy lies. “Rest anyway. One nap to regain your strength won’t kill us.”

It takes some convincing, but eventually Tango agrees, and drops off nearly as soon as Jimmy cards a hand through his hair. Then he tucks Tango in, builds the fire as high as is safe, and hikes through the snow to the nearest village.

When he gets there, the townsfolk are too busy digging themselves out to really spare him a second glance. Notably, he doesn’t see a single paper with his name on it, not even in the tavern. He keeps his head down anyway, he’s careful, and he doesn’t whoop with joy when the tavernkeeper says they serve blaze powder soup, no matter how badly he wants to. 

As soon as the town is at his back he sheds his cloak to wrap up the bowl and keep the heat in. A little sloshes over the side, but not much. In minutes his spine is aching and his muscles are seizing with cold, but it’s fine. Tango isn’t far. 

He doesn’t see the club coming at all. Suddenly his head is cracking open, and his teeth are rattling in his skull, and starbursts are blotting out his vision and he’s on the ground, in the snow. 

There are men. There are ropes. Jimmy blinks sluggishly and stares at the soup, splattered and steaming, and thinks, but that was meant for Tango; what will Tango have to warm him now? And he thinks, I’ll have to get free, so I can get more.

Darkness pulls him under.

:

“For the last time,” says the mercenary. “Where’s that coal mine attached to your hip?”

He’s one of five. Jimmy doesn’t know which one; they all look the same, even a week out, with the same rough beards and ugly laughter and bad humor. He might be able to discern them if he ever looked at their faces for more than a second at a time, but he refuses to do that, even when they yank on the rope slowly skinning his wrists and grab his chin and sneer inches from his face.

“For the last time,” Jimmy says back. “I wasn’t traveling with anyone.”

The man growls. Jimmy’s wanted poster is shoved in his face. It’s old, the ink smudged and barely legible.

“Bullshit. It says right here, coal mine. We want that reward, canary, and we’ll have it.”

“The paper’s wrong,” Jimmy snaps. “But kudos, you know, for being able to read. You don’t look the type.”

The back of his hand splits Jimmy’s mouth open. Blood speckles the snow in bright ruby droplets. The earth spins and Jimmy starts to list toward it until a meaty hand throttles his collar and brings him nose to nose. Jimmy looks sharply to the side.

“Watch yourself, canary. Mouth off like that again and I’ll skewer and roast you over this fire.”

It’s a bad fire, objectively. Tango’s are better by far. Jimmy shouldn’t say so, but he’s going to, because he’s angry. When he woke up and realized what had happened, he was angry. The next day he was angrier. And the day after that he was angrier still. He keeps expecting himself to cower, but his fury won’t let him. He’s angrier than he’s ever been in his life. He’s angry at the mercenaries, and at Ren and Martyn. He’s angry at Joel and Grian and his curse and the world and himself. He’s so sick of fear and sadness and hurt. The hurt won’t ever stop but he can get rid of the others. He can spit in this man’s face and damn the consequences. It’s not like he hasn’t died before.

Jimmy opens his mouth but all that comes out is a grunt of pain, echoed by the mercenary when another one comes and kicks him in the hip.

“No, you fuckin’ won’t. Reward’s only if we bring him in alive. You kill him, I kill you.”

Around the pitiful fire the other mercs guffaw in unison. The first man growls, gives Jimmy a shake like a dog with a rabbit, and then throws him aside. 

“Reward don’t say nothin’ about roughing you up,” the man says. His boot digs into Jimmy’s stomach. Jimmy glares down at the snow and dirt and blood and doesn’t give him the satisfaction of crying out.

They try to get Tango’s whereabouts out of him for a while longer, but eventually grow bored with his silence. After a short debate they toss Jimmy the bones of their dinner. Jimmy ignores it.

In the dead of night, when most of the mercenaries are sleeping except the one on watch, Jimmy thinks he can hear the musical call of a horn in the distance. He thinks he must be dreaming. 

:

At the end of the second week, the mercs get drunk. More drunk than any other night. At first Jimmy thinks this might be an opportunity for escape.

They drink more. They get reckless. Jimmy thinks, oh, this is bad. He’s right.

All they do at first is taunt him. Shove him around a little. A few more bottles in and they come up with a quick, admittedly creative game involving Jimmy’s curse. One mercenary grabs a rock and has the others stand around him in a loose circle. Jimmy is forced to stand in the center as well, and as the man with the rock turns slowly, threatening each of his friends one by one, the other merc watch Jimmy for his reaction. When Jimmy flinches at a strike to the shoulder or hip or face, the mercenaries try to dive out of the way of the hit they know is coming.

They do this for an hour. Jimmy is barely standing by the end of it. He doesn’t cry out once.

He doesn’t cry out, either, as they drag him to a tree and tie him to the trunk. Drunk fingers make poor knots. He could get out of this, he thinks. If he could just get his feet under him. If he could just make his hands work and his vision stop swimming.

The mercenaries are speaking to him. Words register on delay. 

“Can the canary sing for himself?” one mercenary slurs. “Let’s find out!”

“It won’t work,” Jimmy mutters. His curse has never worked on himself. They don’t hear him.

One pulls a crossbow, and takes too long fumbling a bolt in. The others egg him on. “If you kill our reward, I’ll take it out of your hide,” one of them says, but doesn’t stop him.

“Stop distracting me,” says the man with the crossbow. He takes wavering aim. “I’ll jus’ knick his arm.”

Jimmy stares down the stock. He thinks about all the time Joel and Grian have ever laughed at him. He thinks of all the times Joel and Grian have ever made him laugh. He thinks of Tango, and the fragrance of spiced tea. He wonders if dying for real will feel like every other time he’s died. 

A bolt slots neat and sharp between his ribs, and Jimmy thinks, yes, this hurts just as much as every other time.

The pain is blinding. He died to an assassin’s arrow once, choking on blood that both was and wasn’t flooding his lungs. It took ages. He hopes this is quicker. He can’t catch his breath. His head hangs and tears press from his eyes. For a second his vision clears.

There’s nothing there.

His head snaps up. The mercenary is still taking aim.

He shouts, “Tango, don’t—” 

An inferno consumes the camp, and Jimmy’s vision sears to colorless white. 

The mercenaries are screaming. A fire is roaring. Someone cuts Jimmy free, but he doesn’t see who. He can’t see anything. Pain comes in from everywhere, too much to separate. He’s burning and he’s bruising and he’s coming apart. All of it coalesces, all of it becomes the one lancing bolt that isn’t in his ribs. He can’t think of anything else. He can’t think at all. 

“Tango,” he chokes. “Tango—”

His vision starts to go. No. He can’t die, not to this. If he dies, then that means Tango—

If Jimmy could lift his head, he’d see the forest on fire, and the mercenaries burning alive. He’d see Tango’s heaving back, bright as a star, and he’d see him turning back to find him, a hand pressed to the wound in his side.

Jimmy does not see. Jimmy is dead.

:

First, Jimmy stops being dead. Then he’s sleeping. In some starry, dreamless place, he grieves. Then he wakes up. 

The first thing he notes is the ornate ceiling, a mural to Ren’s magnificence. Various takes on this same theme are painted in every room of the castle, so it's pretty obvious where he is. Either he was dead much longer than he's ever been or some other mode of transportation cut the travel time down to a fraction. Maybe both.

The next thing he notes is Grian and Joel standing over him. That explains that--Grian probably flew him here. They stood over him like this the first time he died, too. An old man had had a heart attack nearby, though they didn’t know it then. Jimmy was dead, and then he wasn’t, and then he was staring at Grian’s face, a thousand miles away, and Joel beside him, blubbering into his hands. When they realized he was alive they screamed. 

They don’t scream this time, and they aren't crying. They look like they might have been, though. Their eyes are rimmed with red.

“Look who’s awake,” Grian says. His wings are poorly groomed and his smirk doesn’t look half as shit-eating as it usually does. He nudges Joel in the side. “Go get him, Joel.”

Joel glares. “Why me? You go get him!”

They argue about it for a minute, though Jimmy is too muddled by death to follow. Who are they fighting about getting? Ren? Martyn?

He settles back into his pillows. It doesn’t matter, does it?

Grian wins, eventually, much to Joel’s chagrin. He turns his glare on Jimmy, as he usually does. Jimmy expects to be noogied or boxed around the ears. Instead Joel hooks an arm under his neck and butts their foreheads together. 

“If you ever scare me like that again,” he says, and sniffles hard, “I’ll bloomin’ kill you, you hear me?”

He huffs and grumbles his way out of the room. Jimmy watches him go. He turns his attention to Grian.

Grian waves a little. “Hi, Tim.”

“Hi, Grian,” Jimmy says, and he bursts into tears.

Grian holds him. “There there, you big baby,” he says, and pats his back gently. 

Tango is gone, Jimmy tries to say. He tries to say, I’m sorry you had to save me again, I’m glad to see you, Tango’s gone. Tango’s gone.

Instead he cries and snuffs and gets snot all over Grian’s red sweater. Somehow, Grian lets him. He pushes at Jimmy until he scoots over on the bed. There’s more than enough room for them both; the beds in the castle are bigger and softer than any he shared with Tango on the road. That thought sets him wailing again. Grian chirps at him, sits him up until Jimmy’s slumped in the center of the bed and Grian can sit comfortably behind him, picking through his wings while he hiccups and sobs and shakes.

The tears don’t stop, but eventually they quiet. Various saline fluids drip silently down his face while Grian preens him. 

Grian says, “Why didn’t you tell us you wanted to leave, Timmy?”

Jimmy’s breath shudders out of him. “You—you would have come with me.”

“Obviously.”

Jimmy can hear Grian’s eye-roll in his voice. He bites the inside of his cheek. “…You would have made me feel bad about it. I didn’t want to ruin your life.”

Grian’s practiced fingers twitch to a stop deep in his feathers. He huffs, withdraws his hands, then closes them firmly on Jimmy’s shoulders and turns him in place.

“You ruin my life every day, Timmy,” Grian says. He's frowning, but he meets Jimmy's eyes with determination. “But so does Joel. And I ruin yours and his too. We're all messing with each other, all the time. That’s how it’s meant to be, or we wouldn’t be—we wouldn’t be—”

“Yeah,” Jimmy says. Grian’s face falls into relief.

“We went after you anyway, you understand?” he says, gentler than before. “It was a lot of work, but we’d do it again. And we’d only make fun of you a little. So next time, just take us with you, save us the trouble.”

“Okay.” Jimmy’s eyes swell up again. “Okay.” Then he says, “I met someone.”

“I know. We were tracking you both. We found him first, then he helped us find you.” Grian pulls his sleeves down over his hands to wipe carefully at Jimmy’s face. More tears take the place of the last.

Jimmy can barely get the words out. “He’s gone, Grian. I don’t, I can’t—he’s gone.”

Grian’s eyebrows fly into his hair. “What?”

The door opens. Joel staggers in, supporting a wild-eyed Tango. His hair is a mess, singed at the tips. His slim chest is a cocoon of white bandaging. He is very much not dead.

“Jimmy!” 

Tango breaks free despite Joel’s protest. He launches at Jimmy and immediately falls flat on his face. Jimmy feels it first.

Jimmy screams a little. Then he lurches out of Grian’s grasp and straight off the side of the bed. 

“You’re—you’re alive! Tango, you’re alive!”

“I’m alive? You’re alive!” Tango springs up. His nose is bleeding. His hands are warm on Jimmy’s arms, helping him up, then on his face. The calloused pads of his fingers, the chips of his claws, the warmth of him. Alive. “I can’t believe you went to town like that, I told you not to, ooohhh, I’m so mad I could kiss you—”

“You’re alive,” Jimmy is sobbing. “You’re alive.”

Tango’s mouth wobbles, then purses, then wobbles some more. That makes no sense. What reason does he have to cry?

He pulls Jimmy into his chest. Every awkward angle and sharp jut of bone digs into him, and Jimmy only holds closer, tighter. 

“I thought I lost you,” Tango says. His voice cracks. “I thought I’d never see you again. When I saw what those bastards did to you, I lost my mind. I could have burned the whole forest down. I could have killed them all.”

“You did kill them,” Grian says flatly. “Like, all of them. Barely left any for me and Joel. Rude.” 

"I hurt you," Tango says. His arms around Jimmy stop holding so tight, which won't do. "When I burned them, I hurt you. You died for me, again. I'm so sorry."

"I don't care about that. I come back to life, Tango, you don't. You—" He pushes Tango back by the shoulders, feels his heart break at the sight of the bandages. "Oh my god, you did get shot. I knew it. You can’t do that again, not ever.”

Tango makes a clucking, clicking noise. Through the panic, Jimmy thinks: I missed your silly noises. “Yeah, okay. I’ll do my best to not get shot again.”

He’s smiling. It’s brilliant. He’s brilliant. He's alive.

Tango taps their foreheads together. Jimmy’s eyes flutter shut. His nose is clogged, but he fights for a deep breath anyway. Just one breath of that spark and spice. Just one more. Just one more.

“Also I’m here,” Joel says loudly. “If anyone cares.”

Jimmy ignores him.

:

Jimmy is on the road again. The air is cold but not bitter. The snow is finally starting to thaw.

Grian and Joel filled him in on what happened to his bounty. Turns out as soon as they learned that he fled, they went to appeal to the king on his behalf. Predictably, the king ignored them. Joel and Grian are not to be ignored, as Jimmy knows better than anyone.

After weeks of dedicated campaigning and psychological warfare, in which they managed to turn the whole capital city against its monarch, the Red King gave way to King Ren. King Ren remembered that actually he liked that funny little canary guy, and didn’t think it was all that groovy to hold him against his will. The bounty was lifted, a retraction was printed, and Grian and Joel took off after Jimmy. Instead they found Tango fuming in the snow. The mercenaries were acting on a bounty that wasn't even live anymore.

Jimmy isn’t ready to believe any of it until Martyn, grudgingly, hands him a severance package in the form of several bags of gold, the reins to a genuinely massive horse, and an official pardon with the king’s signature and seal. Ren calls Jimmy dude in it.

“What are you going to call him?” Tango asks.

“Norman, I think,” Jimmy says. Tango nods approvingly.

“Norman. I like it!”

Tango is walking beside Jimmy with a pardon of his own, and even a small sack of gold as an apology for the bounty. No horse, though. He’s the main reason Jimmy hasn’t mounted and rode off into the horizon. Joel and Grian are closing out their own affairs, and then they’re planning on catching up to Jimmy and helping get him set up in the next biome. Ranching still doesn’t seem like the kind of life they’d enjoy, so he doubts they’ll stay. Jimmy will live on without them. He did in the castle, and the did on the road. They can survive apart. It's nice to know, still, that they'll come when he calls.

As for why they're trailing a day behind, Jimmy suspects the only real reason for that is because they’re giving him and Tango time to…he’s not sure what.

Jimmy says, “I guess you don’t have to escort me to the border, anymore.”

Tango kicks at some slush. “I guess not.”

“You could go back to your demolition crew. Or anywhere else you wanted.”

“Yup. Yup.”

The sun is rising. The sky is mostly pink. In the distance birds are singing.

“I was thinking—”

“If you wanted, you could—”

They look at each other. Jimmy laughs, and so does Tango, clear and loud.

“You first,” Tango says.

Jimmy summons his courage. He’s surprised at how easily he finds it.

“You could stay,” he says. Tango stops walking, and so does Jimmy.

“What?”

“You could stay at the ranch, I mean. You said you wanted to see the plains, so you’re still welcome to join. You could stay at the ranch. For a little while, or—or however long you’d like.”

Tango stares at him. Jimmy’s courage falters, but does not crumble. He starts rambling.

“You wouldn’t have to pay rent or anything. Just help me around the ranch sometimes, with the cows. And the warden. And when you want to go explore, you could, and the ranch could be like—like a homebase or something. I’d never expect you to get hurt for me. And you’d—you’d never expect me to get hurt for you.”

“I wouldn’t,” Tango says. “Never.”

“I know.” Jimmy’s throat is tight. “I know you wouldn’t.”

Tango takes a few deep breaths. He looks a little starstruck, which Jimmy wasn’t expecting, and is very sweet. With each one breath the flames in his hair and tail swell and ebb, swell and ebb, until they calm down with one firm exhale. Jimmy waits patiently.

Tango meets his eyes and clears his throat. “Yeah, yes, I’d like that. I’d really really like that. I was going to say the same thing, but you said it better. You’re really incredible, you know that?”

Jimmy kisses him. Quick, the corner of his mouth.

Tango looks starstruck again. “Wow.”

Jimmy spins to face his new horse and mess with the bridle. It nickers knowingly. “Ahem. Um. Are we both going to be able to fit, do you think?”

There’s a sound that might be Tango slapping his cheeks. “Only one way to find out!”

They do both fit, though it takes about ten minutes of flailing and sliding off the side and Norman probably laughing at them in horse. The whole thing is objectively humiliating. Jimmy doesn’t care a whit.

It’s full morning by the time they’re ready to start moving again. Tango’s arms come around Jimmy’s waist. His smile is sharp and crooked at his shoulder. “Ready, rancher?”

A thrill goes up Jimmy’s spine. “Born ready!” 

He gives Norman a little kick. They rocket into a gallop, and in under five minutes Jimmy is somehow the one tumbling off the side of the saddle.

Tango howls with laughter. He pulls Norman into a canter, then a trot, then a walk. It’s clear which of them have actually ridden before. “Oh man, I’m sorry, are you okay?”

Jimmy groans from the ground. “Maybe you should drive the horse.”

That sets Tango off again. “Sure, sure. I’ll drive the horse. Here, let me help you up.”

He leans down, offers his hand. Jimmy takes it.

“My hero,” he laughs. “My rancher.”

:

[ohheyitsyouagain]

it took me three whole episodes of watching this show to get invested enough to give them the Furrification Beam treatment, and twenty to actually have the energy to do them all...

anyway! explanations for all the species because I think SO hard about this stuff

haruhi is a white-throated sparrow. my immediate reason was for the absolute genderfuckery of these birds, where they essentially have four sexes (she's a tan-stripe). on-brand for her. sparrows also aren't the most showy of birds, alluding to her status as a commoner, and the lack of sexual dimorphism means she can get away with pretending to be a boy.

tamaki is a leopon. a lion was the obvious choice, but come on... that's too easy. I went with a leopon firstly for the colors and pattern: still yellow, to match his hair, but the spotting adds some flavor. and I made his rosettes... well, rose-shaped. and I didn't know it when I first made the design, but given tamaki's origins I think it's fitting for him to be a hybrid.

kyouya is a secretary bird, and you can all stop laughing at me for saying I don't want to take the easy choices and then making him a literal secretary! I can't help it. I love secretary birds. plus they're a nice balance of "elegant" and "could kick your fucking ass" so I think he deserves it.

the twins are hoary foxes, which despite the name aren't actually a kind of fox. too obvious. too easy. it's an extra fun layer to make them not what they seem at all. and something something brazil because my Brazil Mutuals just make me want to insert it into everything.

honey is a papillon, which I definitely didn't do because they were my favorite dog breed as a kid. but come on, look at him! it's perfect. he's an itty bitty little puppy. let me have this.

and finally mori is a doberman, which I admit is probably the least creative of the bunch. his design gave me the most problems out of all of them, for some reason.