#its face reminded me of a beak(?) of some sort...

[yuseirra]

I really like thanatos...

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Blewbird Debut: Super Mario Bros. Wonder

Blewbird is weird. I mean, no duh, it's being featured on "Weird Mario Enemies," even if our blog title gets less and less fitting by the day, but I mean weirder than you'd realize by just looking at it at a glance. If you just take a quick glance at it, you might not think much of it -- just a stylized cartoon bluebird, reminiscent of The Artist Formerly Known As Twitter.

But then you look at it more closely, notice things like its black shell and brown shoes. How weirdly smooth its skin is, without even the suggestion of feathers. The fact it doesn't have wings at all. The fact these things burrow out of the ground.

Oh, and let's not forget the fact they shoot off their own beaks!

Yeah, let's not ignore the main hook of the enemy here! Blewbirds predominantly appear in the level Blewbird Roost, where they'll stand against walls and shoot out their beaks at Mario and Friends. Of course, usually their beaks end up sticking to walls across from them...

And unfurling into platforms! That's right! Blewbirds are an animal that evolved to create Platforming Challenges! Is this how they traverse all the open air in the caves they live in without wings? It's not like they can burrow everywhere!

So whatever Blewbirds are, I'm pretty sure they're not birds. Blewbirds are birds in the sense that jellyfish are fish. (A comparison I'm pretty sure I've made multiple times on the blog at this point.) But if they aren't birds, then what are they? Well, let's take another look at Blewbird without its beak...

Does it remind you of anything...?

Because it reminds me of Birdo, another character who's named after a bird for no particularly good reason whatsoever! Almost like it's all connected... But I mean, the similarities are hard to ignore -- the tube mouth optimized for shooting projectiles, the white underbelly, the weirdly smooth skin, heck, you could probably make the very bold argument that Blewbird's ponytail and Birdo's bow are connected somehow.

But wait! I'm not ending things right there, because Blewbird doesn't only have similarities to Birdo...

You see, Nintendo has connected the Birdos and Yoshis for a while now, as Mario's main Weird Dinosaur Characters, but there hasn't been an awful lot actually connecting them in-universe... until now?! For you see, I'm making the radical claim that Blewbirds are proof of a missing link species that connects the Yoshis and Birdos! Look at it! The tube mouth of Birdo. The shell and shoes of Yoshi. It's all so clear now!

Blewbirds aren't birds! They're some sort of weird dinosaur! Just like... just like... just like real birds. Hmm.

Maybe I need to rethink the point I was making with this post. Taxonomy is weird, guys.

*phone ringing*

Oh! Hold on, I need to answer that. Hello?

Hmmm... as a matter of fact, I think I am! I spent so much time talking about Yoshis and Birdos that I forgot to do this: *touches Wonder Flower to trigger Wonder Effect for the post*

During Blewbird Roost's Wonder Effect, Blewbirds will start blowing very large, very colorful bubbles! Your character can bounce on these bubbles to go *Pauline voice* ♪ High up in the sky~! ♪, but you need to be careful, since each bubble pops when you jump on it! The number of Blewbirds in the Blewbird Roost doesn't make that much of an issue, but in a Special World level where you're a Goomba who can hardly jump at all? Well... Good Luck!

That being said, this raises even more questions about Blewbird anatomy, because they blow these bubbles out of their beaks! You know, the ones they shoot off that, as far as I'm aware, aren't even part of their bodies? And in order to blow bubbles out of their beak, their mouth has been moved to the end of it! What is going on here?!

I'm not sure, but I can try to provide a relatable human analogy! Imagine if you put a Cone in your mouth, but someone nearby touched a Wonder Flower, so the Cone fused to your face and the mouth was at the end of the Cone, and you were very scared about this development so you tried to scream but only bubbles came out. We've all been there! And for the Blewbird, it's exactly like this. Hopefully now you understand!

[komoboko]

Hi! Not a request but just curious. What kind of pets do you think the kananoko squad would have in a modern au?

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐤𝐨 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐰𝐧

ft: tanjiro kamado, zenitsu agatsuma, inosuke hashibira, kanao tsuyuri, genya shinazugawa

These are 1am rambles brah

TANJIRO would like to raise a dog, standard but oddly fitting for him. I think he would have multiple to be honest, he enjoys breeds that are more active so I would see him with a golden retriever or a Labrador. His pets really like you to!! Almost like he silently taught them to be just like him.

He definitely has dogs that get big but still thinks they are lap dogs 100%. Whenever you come over to his house and sit anywhere it’s a 50% chance a dog will come lay near you, next to you, or usually on top of you. His dogs are kinda spoiled to, he’ll you he scolds them but you caught him giving them treats when he was suppose to one time.

ZENITSU wants something small, not to big and easy to manage. Personally I think he own a bunch of guinea pigs. Very random choice but just hear me out. They remind me of his sparrow, he likes to hold them when he’s around the house. You may see him walking in a thick turtleneck during the summer, but that’s just because his guinea pig is resting in the next area.

They are a little stubborn though, even zenitsu doesn’t know why. They can get mad and almost bit you before, but that’s normally if they haven’t eaten. You don’t what zenitsu feeds them but he definitely has those really thick guinea pigs just for no reason at all. Well there is a reason as you have to invite his guinea pig to the table to eat with you all during dinner. Also obanai is banned from coming over is kaburamaru is tagging along.

INOSUKE probably wants a really unconventional pet, like I bet he tried to convince you to let him get a boar before. In the end he sticks with a dog like tanjiro. Just the breeds are different I bet he wants have to have a doberman or a German Shepard. He wants to train those dogs for war I tell you.

You refused to enter his house for a bit until his dogs get to know you, you preferred keeping in your feet and not getting tackled by his dogs. He likes to play fight with them always playing fetch with them outside. Although besides this you to went a farm that was mixed with a shelter where they have this really small boar. Every time you go there inosuke always spends time without. He named the lil dude megatron.

KANAO I feel like would have a bird of some sorts. A really well trained one as well. Not like a usual house pet but those really expensive exotic birds. She’s trained it and had help from professionals to train it now, it’s at this point where you can almost have full fledged conversation with it. It knows both of your names, the food it likes everything.

Sometimes the bird is unusually smart.. like the time you brought snacks that you and the bird can both eat but kanao never wants you to. When she can back you had everything hidden and the perfect fool proof lie created. Until the bird “coincidentally” said your name and the beaks brand right after. You were the one getting in trouble and her bird face no repercussions.

GENYA is pretty straightforward he just wants a cat. He likes how they’re more chill and calm and sometimes just hang by themselves or with him. also because the cat owning trait was subconsciously influenced by gyomei’s love for cats. It just grew on him eventually. I think I can see him with one of those black and white bicolor cats but I doubt he would care about the breed.

You tend to compare Genya to his cat a lot because of how similar they look in the face. For some reason Genya’s cat just looks mad, all the time. He could be giving it treats and it would just have the more monotone expression on its face. The cat doesn’t mind you though, Genya could be calling it thinking it’s asleep. Only to find it trailing after you while you go to sit on his couch.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Barbarian Bat: Part Three

A/N: Let's all just pretend that I'm not super behind on writing and updating.... aha? But I hope everyone enjoys this next part! We're getting angsty up in here.

Read on AO3 // Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part

Nesta’s heart pounds between her ribs, the thrumming beat in time with every hurried step through the snow. She’s half aware of the cold biting across the skin of her cheeks, of the numbness beginning to creep into her fingers, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than forcing air into her lungs, forcing it around the lump pressing painfully in her throat. Her whole chest feels hollowed out, feels bruised and empty, and she can feel the familiar prickle of tears burning just behind her eyes.

The snow and the trees pass by in a watery blur, but Nesta keeps pushing forward. She refuses to give in to the dread that weighs heavy in her gut, refuses to give in to the darkness swirling in tighter and tighter and threatening to pull her under. Perhaps, if she keeps walking far enough, she’ll finally wake up back in her bed in her tiny apartment back on earth.

“Nes!”

Nesta takes a moment to close her eyes, a near hysterical laugh bubbling up and out of her. Of course. Of course, he followed her. Of course, she’s never truly allowed a second of peace.

“Nesta!”

“You are quite literally the last person I want to see right now,” Nesta calls over her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“Nes, please. Stop.”

“I’m serious. Leave me alone.”

Nesta hears Cassian let out an annoyed huff, hears him jog through the snow to catch up to her. “If you are going to storm off, at least do it in a different direction.”

“Just because we’ve resonated that doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do, you insufferable alien,” Nesta seethes, trying to pick up her pace.

“And your stubbornness is walking you straight into Metlak territory.”

Nesta whirls back around to face him, her hands clenched into fists at her side. “Didn’t you know? I’m the stubborn one. The scary one. So why don’t you take a hint from the rest of the tribe and finally just steer clear?”

Cassian frowns, and even across the distance still between them, Nesta can see the pained look that mars his expression as he presses a hand to his chest. “You are my mate. The one my khui has chosen as mine.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be.”

“Yes, you have made that perfectly clear. I am sorry. I am sorry that your khui did not choose someone better for you. I am sorry that it is me you are stuck with.”

The words hit Nesta hard enough that her breath stutters for a moment, cracks ricocheting through her chest. The defensive quip dies on her tongue, any other words tangling into a tight knot.

How could he not know? How could he not know that she had been drawn into his gravity from the moment she laid eyes on him? How could he not know that every teasing remark, every smile, every laugh he directed her way left something warm and dangerous blooming within her that Nesta refuses to name? How could he not know that he is all that is good and brave and kind, and it is her that does not deserve him?

“Cassian…”

But Nesta trails off as Cassian’s eyes widen, his attention drifting firmly over her shoulder. He looks nothing short of alarmed, and it has every hair on the back of Nesta’s neck rising, anxiety beginning to spark in her veins. Tentatively, she turns back around and comes face to face with a pair of large, round eyes. The white fur of the creature is dirty and splotted with brown spots, and when Nesta takes in a gasping breath, she’s hit with what smells a lot like a wet dog. The creature tilts its head, peering up at her almost curiously, before opening its beak-like mouth and giving Nesta a perfect view of its fangs.

Nesta tries to slowly back away, but her feet have sunk too deeply, her snowshoes catching and dragging in the snow until she’s toppling backwards and landing with a quiet cry of surprise. The metlak lets out some sort of call, a sound that reminds Nesta of an owl hooting, and then two more creatures are stepping out from the tree line and approaching her.

“Nesta!”

Nesta's heart stutters and pounds in her chest, and she tries to scramble back away from the creatures, away from their large unblinking eyes that are pinned on her, away from their mouths full of fangs. Another hooting sound and that first metlak dares to take a step closer to her, Nesta's whole body locking up with a full body flinch in anticipation of an attack.

A roar sounds from behind her, and Nesta can do nothing but gape as Cassian goes rushing forward and barrels into the group of metlaks. The creatures are quick to fight back, arms swinging and dragging their claws against his skin. Cassian reaches to pull his knife free from his belt, but one of the metlaks sinks its fangs into his arm, and he lets out a pained shout of surprise as his knife falls into the snow.

With a growl, Cassian throws his arm out and shakes the metlak free, sending the creature sailing through the air until it goes crumbling into the snow. The other metlaks are briefly distracted by their fallen comrade, so Cassian whirls around, his hands sifting through the snow to find his missing knife. But the distraction is short lived, and soon, the two remaining metlaks have their attention solely back on Cassian, letting out more of those ominous hooting sounds.

“Cassian!” Nesta screams out in warning. “Cassian!”

Cassian looks up in alarm just as one of the metlaks pounces, claws and fangs burying into his back. He turns around before the remaining metlak can join the attack, kicking out his leg and sending it back toward the tree line. His hands reach back to try and grasp at the metlak still attached to him, but the creature rears its head back and takes another bite out of Cassian’s shoulder.

Cassian stumbles, dropping down to one knee and clearly in pain. Nesta can’t take anymore, can’t just sit by and watch. She pushes back to her feet and rushes forward. She spies Cassian’s abandoned knife, scooping it up out of the snow as she goes. She curls her fingers tight around the hilt, drawing her hand back and swinging forward until the carved bone is embedded deep in the metlak's fur. The metlak lets out an anguished sound, squirming until warm red spills across Nesta’s hands and between her fingers, but it releases its hold on Cassian and collapses at their feet.

Nesta’s chest is heaving, and the knife slips from her grip as she staggers back a step. She swallows hard around the bile threatening to rise up in her throat, blinking down at the metlak blood staining her skin. A finger beneath her chin has her gaze raising and meeting a pair of eyes glowing with concern.

“Are you well, Nes?”

A hysterical laugh threatens to bubble up out of her at the question. “You’re the one who was just attacked, and you’re asking me if I’m well?”

Nesta reaches her hand up in the space between them, trying to put pressure on the wound left behind from the metlak’s claws on Cassian’s chest. Between the way her fingers have started to tremble and the slickness of the blood, her hand slips against his skin, but Cassian’s own fingers curl gently around her wrist, halting her movements. With everything that’s happened, the touch shouldn’t be as warm and grounding as it is, but there’s no denying the calming feeling that washes over her.

“Do not worry about me,” Cassian tells her as he reaches down and grabs his knife, standing up with a grimace. “We must get you somewhere safe, away from metlak territory.” Cassian looks up and around them, taking in their surroundings. “I know this area. There is a hunter cave not far.”

Somehow, numbly, Nesta nods her head. She stumbles back to where their packs are laying in the snow, shouldering the weight of both of them. Cassian tries to take them from her, but she holds firm, especially as blood continues to slide along his skin in streaks of red. He seems less than impressed, but he leads the way through the snow, keeping his knife raised and ready in case of another attack.

Thankfully, they really don’t need to walk too far before reaching the hunter cave, but Nesta still lets out an exhausted sigh as she drops their packs to the floor. She goes to move the privacy screen into place at the cave entrance, but a pained grunt draws her attention back to Cassian. He’s dropped to his knees, whatever adrenaline that was keeping him going now gone.

He winces as he pulls his vest off and tosses it aside, and Nesta gets her first look at just how bad the wounds to his back are. The gashes are deep and still bleeding, the one at his shoulder where that metlak bit him especially gruesome. When Cassian falls forward, just barely catching himself with his hand, Nesta rushes to his side. She drops to her own knees beside him, stretching an arm across his waist to try and hold him up.

“You need to see Madja,” Nesta tells him, eyes raking over the concerningly high number of scratches and gashes. “We need to get you back to the main cave.”

Cassian shifts enough that he can slide his palm along Nesta’s cheek, thumb skating across her skin. The way his eyes droop and are unfocused has fear spearing icy cold through Nesta’s chest, twisting tighter and tighter until it hurts to squeeze air into her lungs. She curls her fingers around his wrist, squeezing hard and holding him there. Holding him here with her.

“Cassian…”

“My mate,” Cassian whispers, his words slightly slurred. “Safe.”

Cassian’s eyes flutter closed, and then he’s slumping forward, Nesta just barely able to brace him and the dead weight before his face makes contact with the stone floor of the cave.

“Shit,” Nesta whispers to herself, giving Cassian’s shoulder a shake but he doesn’t move or make a sound. “Shit shit shit… Okay… Okay.”

Nesta closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, steadying herself and willing her thundering heart to calm. She can do this. She has to do this. With a determined nod, Nesta pushes back up to her feet. She goes over to where she dropped their packs, rooting around in Cassian’s until she finds his flint. She finds fuel in one of the baskets tucked along the far wall of the cave, stacking them in the makeshift fire pit the way she’s seen the other members of the tribe do before.

It takes a few strikes of the flint, but finally, Nesta is able to get sparks. She holds her breath until the sparks grow into proper flames, the orangey glow quickly filling the cave. She grabs their waterskins next, stepping just outside of the cave and filling them both with snow before setting them above the now crackling fire to melt. It takes some tugging on Nesta’s part, but she’s able to drag the heavy privacy screen in place over the cave entrance, trapping the warmth from the fire in with them.

Nesta uses the first waterskin to pour the now melted water over her hands and clean them, and then she turns back to Cassian and his wounds. She frowns and tilts her head, trying to determine the best next steps. She doesn’t exactly have a first aid kit handy on this planet. She decides to reach for her furs, untying them from her pack.

She takes Cassian’s knife and slices the furs into strips, cutting the final strip into squares. She crushes some soap berries into the waterskin and dips the first square of fur into the sudsy water. She keeps her touch careful and gentle as she cleans each of Cassian’s wounds. Amazingly, some of the more shallow scratches have already begun to heal, his khui clearly working hard and quickly.

She covers the worst of his wounds with the strips of fur, finding some twine in Cassian’s pack to tie the ones on his shoulder in place, then sits back on her haunches with a soft sigh. She only allows herself a moment before pushing back to her feet. She discards the now pile of bloody furs and dumps the dirty water. It takes some awkward maneuvering with Cassian’s large body, but Nesta is able to roll out his furs and get him into them.

He hasn’t moved or made a sound since he lost consciousness, but his chest continues to move up and down with each breath, and when Nesta presses the palm of her hand there, she can feel the beat of his heart beneath her fingertips. With nothing to keep her hands or her mind busy anymore, it’s hard to stop the dark thoughts that swirl and roll in like storm clouds. A lump presses in against her throat, her stomach churning as she grips at the leathers of her clothing until her knuckles turn white. She has no idea if she’s done enough, no idea if Cassian will be able to heal, if he’ll even wake up. And she has no idea where they are. No idea how to contact anyone from the main cave to get help.

“Please don’t die on me,” Nesta whispers, brushing the dark strands of Cassian’s hair out of his face. “You can’t die on me, you stupid alien, you hear me?”

Nesta holds vigil until exhaustion sinks into her limbs and threatens to tug her under. Until her eyelids start to droop and she has to shake herself to keep them open. She curls up beside Cassian, keeping her hand firmly on his chest, on his still beating heart. She allows the assurance that, for now, he’s okay to wash over her, allows the steady thrum under her hand to finally lull her to sleep.

It’s the cold beneath her hands that she feels first. Cold and hard, and when she curls her fingers, it’s the distinct feel of metal beneath her touch. In a second, her eyes snap open, taking in the white, clinical walls, the various metal panels, the flashing lights. Fear grips her tight enough that Nesta swears she’s being burned from the inside out by its icy grip. She opens her mouth, tries to scream, but all there is is a lump pressing into her throat.

Nesta tries to sit up, tries to clamber off the table, but she can’t seem to get her limbs to work. It’s like she’s pinned down, like she’s paralyzed, and that fear turns into a full blown panic, clawing at her chest and leaving it heaving. She thrashes her head, trying to escape, but as she turns to the right, she realizes she’s not alone in this room.

Cassian is sprawled across the floor, and it takes Nesta a moment too long to realize that his eyes are staring unblinking up at the ceiling, that his chest isn’t moving. In fact, the longer she stares, the more gashes that seem to appear across his skin, blood gurgling and pooling beneath him. Nesta thrashes harder against her invisible restraints, tries desperately to reach for him as the familiar sting at the back of his eyes blurs her vision.

Nesta wakes with a jolt, Cassian’s name weighing heavy on the tip of her tongue. Her heart pounds between her ribs, squeezing and twisting in a way that leaves a steady ache. Her stomach roils, and she’s confident that if she had anything in her gut, she’d have lost it. Her breath still heaves out of her as she turns her attention to Cassian, but he hasn’t moved, his condition still the same as before she fell asleep.

She lets out a quiet breath and lays back down beside him, tries to lull herself back under, but sleep does not come easily, and it’s fitful for the rest of the night. By the time pale morning light starts to creep into the cave around the privacy screen, she feels more exhausted than any sort of rested. Her chest still aches like a festering wound, her limbs heavy as she shifts and stretches.

But Nesta still pulls herself up. She slides the back of her hand along Cassian’s temple and cheek, and she frowns at the way his skin feels warm, like he’s practically radiating heat. Does that mean he has a fever? That his wounds are infected? How is she supposed to know what the normal temperature of an alien is? She peels back each of the strips of fur to check, but almost all of his wounds have closed up, even the worst of them scabbed over.

“Cassian,” Nesta tries, gently shaking his shoulder.

Cassian lets out a quiet groan, a soft murmur that Nesta can’t quite make out what he’s saying, but she decides any sound is a good sign. She quickly adds more fuel and stokes the fire back to life, tugging the privacy screen back enough that she can reach a hand out and pack more snow into a waterskin, melting it down. She adds soap berries and takes the time to reclean all of Cassian’s wounds, carefully laying the strips of fur back in place and tucking him back in.

By the time Nesta has finished, her stomach seems set on being louder than even her khui, and she knows she’ll need to venture out of the safety of the cave. She grabs Cassian’s knife and keeps it poised in her hand as she slowly pulls back the privacy screen the rest of the way and peeks her head outside. When she’s sure the coast is clear, she steps out properly into the snow and the two suns already sitting high in the sky.

Nesta knows that the hunters have caches near each of the caves. She knows that she just needs to find the tree that has the markings in the bark to indicate where this cave’s cache is. She heads for the tree line, making sure she keeps the cave in her line of sight at all times as she wanders through the snow. Her eyes scan the different trunks until she finally spots the one with knife markings on it. She drops to her knees and digs through the snow until she finds a quillbeast buried there, tugging it free and piling the snow back on top of the cache.

It’s messy and imperfect, skinning the quillbeast when she makes it back to the hunter cave, and it takes much longer than Nesta thought it would but she makes it work. She cooks the meat over the fire and nibbles on the pieces, occasionally glancing toward Cassian to check on him. She’s going to need a proper plan soon. A long term plan soon.

But for right now, all Nesta can think about is how gross she feels. The trek to the Elder cave and everything that’s happened since then hasn’t exactly lent itself to the opportunity to bathe and she’s certainly feeling it. Her braid is practically crusted over with grease, and there’s a layer of grime and sweat clinging to her skin that has her nose scrunching in distaste.

She clambers up to her feet, grabbing one of the waterskins and making for the cave entrance. Darkness has started to creep in outside, and Nesta swears she can feel eyes staring at her from behind the tree line. It has her shuttering, memories of the metlaks still fresh in her mind. She makes quick work of packing the waterskin with snow and securing the privacy screen firmly back in place, some of the tension finally loosening from her shoulders when she’s sat safely back at the fire.

She sets the waterskin above the fire to melt the snow and gets started on her hair while she waits, tugging the leather strap free and carefully unwinding the strands. She digs a bone comb out of her pack and uses it to work through the tangles. By the time she finishes, the snow has melted and the water has warmed, so she crushes up some soap berries, lathering up her hair and carefully rinsing the strands.

Just that one thing already has her feeling infinitely better, but she peels off her shirt and sets it aside. She uses the spare squares of fur to scrub and rinse down her arms, along her shoulders, across her collarbones. Her khui begins to sing loudly in her chest, sending vibrations skittering through her veins, heat creeping up her spine, and her hands pause their movements. A shudder takes over her body, her breath catching in her throat, as if it knows what’s happening before her mind catches up.

She didn’t even hear him get up. Didn’t hear him move across the cave and closer to her. But now she can hear the way his own khui answers the song of her own, can feel the warmth radiating off him as much as the fire in front of her.

Despite his overly large hands, Cassian’s touch is surprisingly gentle. The tips of his fingers whisper across her exposed shoulder, tracing shapes and patterns along the skin. Nesta can feel her heart starting to trip over itself between her ribs, can hear her damn khui practically screaming away, but she can’t find it within herself to move away from him, can scarcely breathe. Goosebumps bloom down her arm at his touch, and she hates it.

She hates his tenderness and his kindness and the fact she doesn’t deserve it. She hates the way their khuis sing and twine together, filling the space of the cave around them. She hates the way she wants to lean back into him, to give in until she’s consumed. But, instead, she stares resolutely at the shadows cast across the cave walls from the fires, focusing on anything other than this big, blue alien and his intense stares and his easy smiles and his charming words and his boisterous laughter and his stupid gentle touches to her shoulder.

She tries to focus on being back on that spaceship with her sisters, back to what she left behind on earth. Tries to focus on every barely sutured wound, every chink in her armor weighing her down and promising to pull her under. Tries to focus on the sorry bruised and battered state of her heart, not even close to worthy of being offered over.

Cassian switches his attention to her other shoulder, fingers still tracing those soft, aimless patterns. The shuddering breath that tumbles past Nesta’s lips sounds too loud even to her own ears, but his touches don’t falter, and she swallows hard, forcing herself to find her voice again.

“Freckles,” she breathes, turning her head enough that she can meet his gaze. It’s a mistake, their faces now close together, but she pushes on anyway. “They’re places where the skin goes darker. Often from the sun.”

“Free-kels,” Cassian repeats, his brows dipping as he focuses on speaking the word.

Nesta snorts amusedly at the pronunciation attempt. “Close enough.”

Cassian drops his gaze back to her shoulder, his fingers resuming their movements. “Your sisters have them too.”

“Yes. Feyre on her nose, and Elain on her cheeks. I have mine on my shoulders.”

“I like them.”

He says the words so genuinely, almost reverently, and Nesta’s heart gives a traitorous squeeze in her chest. That tightness only seems to grow when Cassian shifts his head, his mouth brushing along the same path his fingers had traced moments before. Nesta closes her eyes, letting the feeling wash over her, but her eyes snap back open again when Cassian’s hand skates across her cheek. She blinks in surprise at the tear he caught, not even realizing it had slipped free.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian murmurs, shifting away from her.

The loss of his presence and his warmth is jarring, the cold seeping in around her and sinking its claws into her. She wraps her arms tightly around herself, her bottom lip finding home between her teeth.

“I had this boyfriend back on earth,” Nesta begins, her voice quiet. She’s not sure where the need to tell him comes from, but once she starts, the words continue to flow out of her. “Sort of like a pleasure mate, I guess. But he was… cruel. He was awful. He made me feel weak. And when I finally left him, I swore to myself that I would never feel weak again. But I did. On that spaceship. Waking up there and seeing Elain and Feyre and knowing there was nothing I could do to save them. That I couldn’t save them. I felt just as powerless again. I want to stop feeling weak and powerless.”

Cassian reaches across the space between them, settling his hand overs and stopping her from twisting her fingers into knots. “I could train you, if you want. Teach you how to use our hunting weapons, so you can always protect yourself. So you will always feel strong.”

For a moment, Nesta can do nothing but stare at him, her heart lodged firmly in her throat and tangling with the words there. This is a ledge, one that she can’t come back from if she steps off it, and the ground is shaky beneath her feet. If Cassian picks up on her trepidation, he doesn’t let on. He merely watches her quietly, patiently, his thumb sliding almost soothingly along the back of her hand.

“And what if I decide to use those skills to fight you?” Nesta teases lightly, hoping to steer the conversation back to familiarity, to steady footing.

“Then I would know that I trained you well,” Cassian tells her sincerely. “I would be proud of you.”

Nesta pulls her hands free from Cassian’s touch, turning her attention fully back to the fire. “You should be resting. You shouldn’t be up. You’re still healing.”

Cassian lets out a soft sigh, but Nesta can’t bear to turn and look at him, to see the expression she’s sure is on his face. She hears him move away, the shuffles as he moves back toward the furs. She bites her lip to keep it from trembling, grabbing her shirt and yanking it back on.

“What is your plan then?” Cassian asks from behind her. “We will have to go back to the main cave.”

“I know,” Nesta murmurs, curling her knees up against her chest.

“Rhys is a good leader. He will not force… it will be your choice, but we will not be able to keep it a secret any longer. Everyone will know that we have resonated.”

“Maybe just you should go back to the cave then. Then, no one will know your mate is the scary one.”

“You think that is what I wish?”

Nesta lets out a dry, mocking laugh, whirling around to face him. “It’s what you should want. There’s something wrong with me.”

Cassian frowns, tilting his head curiously. “Are you well, Nes? We will have Madja speak with your khui. We will fix it.”

“You don’t get it,” Nesta huffs frustrated, barely stopping her eye roll. “You can’t fix it. They can’t even fix it back on earth. It’s… it’s inside my head. In my mind.”

Cassian’s expression is pained as he watches her, like his own heart is breaking at the admission. He hesitates for a second before closing the distance between them again, his hands reaching up to frame her face. He presses his forehead against hers, each touch so gentle, so caring, and Nesta’s vision starts to blur.

“Then tell me how I can help. Tell me how to ease this pain in your head.”

Nesta shakes her head, swallowing down a choked sob before it can escape. “I’m telling you. You can’t. I’m broken.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Cassian tells her fiercely, his thumbs catching every tear that slips free and slides down her cheeks. “Because there is nothing broken to fix.”

“You just don’t understand,” Nesta scoffs.

“And you do not see what I see. I know that you are hurting. That these males in your past have hurt you. But I see how you still walk with your head held high. You are still so strong. I see how fiercely you care for your sisters, that you would do anything for them. I see everything that you do at the cave and everything that you are doing now, and I am honored that my khui has chosen you as my mate.”

Nesta pulls her face free from Cassian’s grip, scrubbing the back of her hand against her cheeks. “I thought I told you to rest.”

“You need to rest too.”

“I will.”

Cassian scrutinizes her for a moment, but when he finally seems satisfied with what he sees, he nods his head. He moves back over to the furs, but rather than slip beneath them, he begins to rearrange them, fluffing them up, preparing them.

“What are you doing?” Nesta demands even though she already knows the answer. “Cassian.”

“I will not have my mate be cold,” Cassian explains, as if it’s that simple, shifting the furs closer to the fire.

“I’m not the one who’s injured. You’re still healing.”

“I do not care.”

Nesta rolls her eyes at that, crossing her arms across her chest. “Gods, you can be so stubborn, did you know that?”

“Then we are evenly matched,” Cassian tells her, meeting her gaze head on.

Nesta sighs, already knowing she’s going to regret this. “Fine. We can share. Then everyone wins. Just… just don’t make it weird.”

Cassian’s expression betrays nothing, but he gestures toward the furs for her to go first. With another roll of her eyes, Nesta moves and slips beneath the furs. She shifts as far to the edge as she can, keeping her back to Cassian as he clambers beneath the furs beside her. She relaxes once he’s settled, but it’s short lived when his arms reach out and curl around her, tugging her back into his chest.

“Cassian,” Nesta warns between clenched teeth.

“I am not making it weird. I am merely helping to keep you warm.”

It's a lie and they both know it. Especially with the way his hand flexes against her waist, his arms tightening. As though he's afraid she'll disappear on him, as though he's desperate to keep her here in his embrace just a little bit longer. And maybe Nesta should call him out on it, maybe it makes her selfish, but she allows herself to sink back into him, allows her eyes to flutter closed, allows his warmth and the security of his arms around her and the steady beat of his heart at her back lull her into blissful sleep.

—

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[softquietsteadylove]

Gil makes friends with an unusual Pokémon and this one decides very stubbornly he wants to be his partner Pokémon to someone who never really fought a battle.

Gil has no idea what to do and asks Thena for help

Snap!

Gil looked down, dread filling him from the neck down. Under his boot was a very nice leek stalk. And a very nice, very sturdy, plucked leek could only mean one thing. He looked up, "uh..."

"Farfetch'd!"

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" Gil held up his hands as the furious Wild Duck pokemon stormed out of the pondside grass and towards him. "I didn't mean to!"

"Far-Farfetch'd!" Well, of course he hadn't meant to, but what was done, was done!

"I know, I'm sorry, really!" Gil continued to plead, even holding up the snapped leek. "I would never-!"

The ruffled bird pokemon continued to glare at him, the marking of its 'unibrow' making it look even more severe. It snatched back the two halves of the leek from him in a huff. "Farf!"

"I really am sorry," Gil repeated, sadder this time as he watched the Farfetch'd look at its beloved leek forlornly. He removed his hat and pressed it to his chest. "I can help you find another one."

"Far?"

"I will," Gil nodded, already resolute to help no matter what duties he was putting off by doing so. "I'm a pokemon ranger. I took an oath to help any and every pokemon that needs my help."

The pokemon looked skeptical at best. It even crossed its wings at him in a look of pure disbelief, "Far-Farfetched."

"Well," Gil ruffled his hair in the face of the pokemon's skepticism. "No--but if you tell me what you're looking for, at least I can help you look twice as fast, right?"

Farfetch'd continue to glare at him, mostly, but he could see the expression on its face lightening. It slapped its webbed feet on the grass a little more firmly, "Farfetch'd?"

"I won't leave until I make this right," Gil vowed to the small avian pokemon, holding up his hand like he did on his first day of initiation.

Farfetch'd did not seem moved by his solemnity, but it did shrug its wings before tucking its broken leek under one of them. "Far!"

"Yes, sir," Gil chuckled. He wasn't used to such a non-confrontational - at least with humans - pokemon being so bossy. But the obstinate little duck reminded him of someone. "So, uh, I know the basic height and shape, but what else should I know?"

"Far!" he squawked back at him as he began rooting through the lower grasses as Gil searched the higher stalks. "Far-Farfetch'd-Far."

"Right," Gil murmured, directing his attention to the colours of the stalks of choice, as well as the thickness of them. This would be Farfetch'd's primary mode of protection, after all. Even if Farfetch'd mostly only confronted other Farfetch'd, he would still need to defend himself.

"Farfetch'd?"

Gil looked up and over, although Farfetch'd was entirely focused on the task at hand. He just wasn't used to making small talk with a wild pokemon. "Uh, y-yeah, I have a, uh, family...of sorts."

"Farfetched?"

Gil blushed faintly, batting some taller water grass out of his way. "I don't know if I'd say a hatchling, but we have a...we have a Teddiursa. I rescued him and he imprinted on Thena, so-"

"Far?"

"Yes!" Gil huffed, feeling agitated by the bird's overly direct line of questioning. He really tried not to let pokemon get him on the 'mate' topic, though. "She has a house up at the top of the mountain."

"Far," the little pokemon mused aloud, tapping the bottom of its beak. Only very strong trainers and pokemon chose to live so high up and in the open.

"Yeah, she is tough," he chuckled. "I think you'd like her."

"Fetch'd," he looked back over at Gil, still with no leek suiting his fine tastes. "Far-Farfetch'd."

Gil laughed, picking one with potential, "nah, I'm the lucky one. I love my job, but they also make it nice to go home to someone, y'know?"

"Far." Farfetched looked down at the grass beneath its feet, even the feathers at the top of its head sinking lower.

"Oh," Gil uttered gently, taking in the suddenly more melancholy Farfetch'd. Sure, not everyone in every colony managed to find a nestmate, but he couldn't imagine what it was like to be the only one without that feeling of having a family. "Hey."

Farfetched look up at Gil, letting him pat the top of his head, feathers and all. He sighed.

"Listen," Gil smiled down at the little guy. "I know it's hard to really devote yourself to taking care of everyone else. It takes a lot out of you, right?"

"Far," the pokemon reluctantly agreed, the weight of his responsibilities to the flock weighing on his wings.

"But you're doing great work, right? I bet your colony has been really safe all these years with you," Gil attempted to encourage him. "You may not have hatchlings of your own, but you've helped keep all of them safe."

"Far?"

"Really," he smiled, taking a seat next to the reticent duck. "That's kind of what it feels like to be a ranger, y'know?"

"Farfetch'd?" it tilted its head at him, also seating itself properly.

"Well," Gil shrugged, ruffling his hair under his hat. "Being a ranger is a tough job. And I'm not saying rangers never think 'oh, this would be so much easier if I had my own pokemon'. I'm lucky I have a Dragonite I hatched from an egg, but a lot of rangers don't have pokemon who are really bonded to them like that. We don't believe in it."

"Farfetch'd?"

Gil sighed, tugging at the collar of his vest. "Pokemon are amazing creatures, and we're lucky to share our world together. I don't wanna force any pokemon to be bound to me, in a pokeball or otherwise. Even Dragonite--I hatched him, but he doesn't have a pokeball. If he didn't wanna stick around, or be a ranger, he didn't have to be. He chose that life."

"Farfetch'd!" the bird pokemon squawked, starry-eyed at the idea of a pokemon having such a designated and impressive job.

"Yeah, he's the best," Gil laughed in agreement. "And now our little Teddi is a ranger too! Well, a ranger in training. He's still a Mama's cub when he gets home."

"Fa-fa-far," Farfetched chuckled into its wing.

"Don't tell him I said that! If you ever meet him," Gil rushed to amend. Teddiursa felt very strongly about being babied these days.

"Farfetch'd," the bird agreed, nodding and raising a solemn wing as a promise.

"Thanks," Gil sighed. He looked at Farfetch'd again. "So listen, I get it. It's hard to devote your life to the service of others like that. But you're doing good work, and I'm sure your colony really appreciates it."

"Far," Farfetch'd hummed, tapping its beak again. He looked up at Gil, something about his expression shifting.

"I really admire you, and all the work you've done," Gil tipped his hat to the pokemon.

"Farfetch'd!"

"Huh?" Gil blinked at the sudden demand. But Farfetch'd jumped back onto its feet, flapping his wings, repeating the request to see his life as a ranger--to meet his family! "I-I don't-"

"Far-Farfetch'd!" he repeated. He wanted to see what it was like to be a colony protector of a different kind! He wanted to see life outside the grasslands! And he wanted to know more about this ranger.

"I don't really, y'know," Gil paused. He had just described how he didn't really have a partner pokemon, and Dragonite and Teddiursa somewhat fit into that category for him. But he didn't think it was an invitation.

"Farfetch'd," the bird pokemon stood tall, though. "Far-Farfetch'd."

Gil looked at the stubborn pokemon. He had to admit, he did make him think somewhat of Thena and how hard headed she could be sometimes. Farfetch'd was a pokemon who was used to being a diligent protector and caretaker. He would probably fit right in with them. Gil sighed.

"Far?"

"I don't have pokeballs," he held his hands up. "But if you wanna just come and...see the ranger centre--I guess that's fine. Don't get ahead of yourself, okay? I'm not...catching you, or anything."

"Fa-fa-far-fetch'd!" he laughed in the face of his reluctance.

Gil rolled his eyes; a pokemon laughing at him would fit right in with Thena's pokemon just fine. "Okay, let's go I guess."

"Farfetch'd!!!"

"Right, s-sorry," Gil nearly tripped. He had almost forget they had to find him a replacement leek first.

[burning-fcols]

Travis can't help it. He doesn't like what he's seeing & why should he? Anthony was practically hanging all over that cat looking guy! Drooling by the looks of it! It stirs something ugly in the pit of his stomach & a growl bubbles from the back of his throat. Yes, Angel is a porn star, yes he was bound to flirt. But to where he could see it? When it wasn't even for work? That guy looked like he was getting genuine flirts & that alone wasn't fucking fair! After all he cared for Anthony. Was even going so far as to having his back during a tough work day & this was what he got to see in turn? Hands are clenched into tight fists as he waits until the other guy left the scene before striding up to Angel, looking clearly torn between angry & just disappointed. "You've got some fucking nerve. Who is he, huh?" ( uh-oh :'3 -sends another jelly bean- ) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴᴀʙʟᴇᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Ever since that first after-work conversation with Travis— a genuine, surprisingly non-creepy one —things have been changing between them. Not intentionally; Angel is smart enough not to seek a listening ear from the guy whose life mission is to get back in the porn star’s pants. That’s just asking for obnoxious attempts at manipulation. But Travis is a persistent sort. Only lately, his relentlessness has reared its head in ways that DON’T make Angel want to rip out the other’s feathers. Who would have thought Travis could be kinda sweet when not drooling all over the place? In a way that, reluctant as Angel is to fully believe it, doesn’t seem fake.

Still laced with selfish intent ( as things always are ) but— crazy as it sounds —it feels more like he’s being romanced than seduced. As if the crazy avian thinks he has a shot at MORE than another fuck. As if Angel could ever be allowed to pursue more, even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. He can’t. Not letting himself entertain such stupid hypotheticals, Angel had tried to leave such troubles BEHIND him along with the work day. But apparently, he wouldn't be allowed even that reprieve.

Startling at the unexpected newcomer, Angel abruptly stops before he can follow Husk through the doors of the hotel. Having ran into the bartender taking a breather outside— needing to get away from whatever bat-shittery was going on in the lobby —Angel hadn't wasted the opportunity for good-natured flirting banter. Hoping to distract himself from the headache of a Director he THOUGHT he left behind and fervently trying to ignore how his actions felt more playful than serious. How interacting with Husk ( despite being a comfort ) didn't elicit the same... confusing tightness in Angel's chest. One would think that'd be a good thing.

It's not.

Tensing, he rolls his eyes with a mutter of ❝ Stai scherzando, cazzo. ❞ before sharply turning on his heel to face Travis. Speaking louder so the other can hear, fur bristles as he emits an indignant scoff and dryly retorts, ❝ Oh— I've got some fuckin' nerve? Big talk comin' from th' STALKA' on my fuckin' doorstep. ❞ Fists clenched at his sides, one arm dramatically sweeps across himself as if motioning in the direction of the V Tower, ❝ What, suffocatin' me durin' work ain't good enough fer ya anymore? You gotta stick yer beak inta my business here 'cause I won't let ya stick yer dick inta my ass THERE? ❞

Bitterly barking out a laugh, Angel crosses his arms and questions through a sardonic smile, ❝ Or are ya here on ❛ official bus'ness ❜ ? Hmm? Y'doin' th' Vees dirty work like a loyal li'l bitch? Did one of THEM send ya here ta ruin my fuckin' night. ❞ Frankly, he doubts it. If Valentino wanted something, his phone would be blowing up. Vox likely would have sent one of his other assistants. Someone less liable to get distracted from the task at hand... and Velvette isn't the type to work through people who aren't directly under HER influence. But Angel spats out the accusation regardless, hoping to remind Travis exactly WHAT connects them.

They both happen to belong to the same shitty group of people. Nothing more.

He purposely ignores the question about Husk— he's not about to throw around specific names to someone with a jealous demeanor and access to Valentino —hoping to throw Travis off-balance enough for him to neglect to realize he didn't actually get an answer. 「 ☆ 」

[go-to-the-mirror]

Every Time Mirrors are Mentioned in Welcome to Night Vale that is Halfway Relevant

[Plain text: "Every Time Mirrors are Mentioned in Welcome to Night Vale that is Halfway Relevant"]

Unabridged

Episodes featured: 19A, 26, 30, 33, 67, 87, 106, 108, 120, 122, 137, 148, 149, 160, 171, 209

Liveshows featured: "The Librarian," "The Investigators,"

CECIL: And now, a look at financial news. A fallow wheat field, grey sky, cut by black Vs of black birds. There is a child dragging a hatchet. His eyes cast down. His eyes tight. His eyes white and red and superfluous. He know not what he sees, but he knows what is there. A single black-wingéd beast, beak cracked, feathers rotting, alights roughly on the child's shoulder. They stop. The bird picks at the cartilage of the boy's ear, as if biting secrets into it. The boy groans, not unpleasantly. Heavy, slow clouds roll and rise, starkly contrasted against the flickering daguerreotype hills, which stoically keep the poisonous rains at bay. A sudden little river, partially walled by palsied shafts of grain, rolls by. The boy walks to it. He bends forward. His blank eyes stare into his reflection. Neither he nor his mirror knows the other is there. But the bird. The bird knows. The bird cackles. Or perhaps cries. Even the bird is uncertain. The boy takes a palm full of the dark water. Most of it runs out through his long, zig-zagging fingers. He licks the remainder from his dusty skin. A sound. Like thunder. Like drums. Like steps. The boy turns and hurls his hatchet behind him. The bird flies up and away. There is a hideous thump. The boy knows not what he has hit, but that it has been wounded. He waits for its retort. This has been financial news.

(Episode 19A - The Sandstorm)

CECIL: Maybe you should try paying more attention when you're at home. Or better yet, destroy all of your mirrors. As my mother used to tell me: "Someone's going to kill you one day, Cecil, and it will involve a mirror. Mark my words, child." and then she would stare absently through my eyes until I giggled. I miss her so much. 

(Episode 26 - Faceless Old Woman)

CECIL: McDonald’s wants to remind you that the most important meal of the day is Breakfast. So why would you let a morning go by without staring deeply into the mirror until you no longer recognize the face staring back at you, mimicking your every gesture, mocking your every movement.

(Episode 30 - Dana)

TEENAGE CECIL: My mom seems really proud of me too. She hid from me for three days, the longest ever! And she’s covered all the mirrors in my house. I’m not sure why, but I think it must be because of pride. Being proud does all sorts of things to a...person. Uh, sorry, got distracted. That weird movement is back. It’s closer now.

TEENAGE CECIL: Interning is going great! Mom is gone. Leonard is super nice to me. My brother is gone too. Family, right? I think I’m learning a lot at the station. All of the mirrors in my house are uncovered now. Not sure who did that. I’m standing in front of the hall mirror right now. Am I changed? Am I becoming an adult? I look more grown, I think, more professional. Leonard said if I work hard, maybe I’ll be a radio presenter myself some day. Leonard said he once was smaller too, but that he is larger now, that everything is larger, that everything in the universe is growing to towering sizes, but all at once, all in unison, so no one notices and it is all the same relative to itself. Leonard lolls his tongue out of his thick purple lips. Leonard hisses. Being an intern is great. That flickering movement is everywhere now. Especially looking in this mirror. I see the flickering movement and I know. I know it. I think the radio station is fun. I think the radio station is hidden. I think the radio station is like a dark planet, lit by no sun. I think, therefore I soon won’t be. I’m looking in a mirror. The mirror is not covered. The flickering movement is just behind me. I- [He screams. There is gurgling. A body falls to the floor. Tape hiss continues. The tape shuts off. End teenage voice]

CECIL: No matter! I’m taking the tape, just now and I’m [GRUNTS] crushing it into little pieces. None of us have to think about it again. I’ll just double check that the mirror in the station bathroom is covered as usual and then that will be that. Done. Forgotten. 

(Episode 33 - Cassette)

CECIL: The City Council warned that the mess left from Leonard Burton’s death is likely to draw Street Cleaners and that we should all take shelter. Cover your mirrors. Shade your eyes. Stay indoors and mourn. Stay indoors and mourn.

(Episode 67 - [Best Of?])

CECIL: Item: Big Ricos Pizza is looking for a new cashier. Must have retail experience and be good at not talking if they know what’s good for them. No funny business. No secret wheat speakeasies. Why would you even bring that up? Who have you been talking to? To apply, look at yourself in the mirror for a long time, until your face no longer seems to be your own.

(Episode 87 - The Trial of Hiram McDaniels)

CECIL: I was so frightened, but still I looked into the washroom. He was standing in front of a mirror, looking right at himself. I never look into those things. Or at least I haven't in a long long time.  "I think the radio station is fun," he said. "I think the radio station is hidden. I think the radio station is like a dark planet, lit by no sun. I think, therefore I soon won’t be," he said.  I wanted to cry out to warn him. My mother told me to stay away from mirrors. And I knew he was in danger. I opened my mouth and tried to step into the room, but I could not speak, could not move forward.  "I’m looking in a mirror," he said.  "The mirror is not covered," he said. "Stop. Don't look into the mirror," I tried to say. But nothing came out of my mouth, only spit and inaudible wheeze. Tears stung my eyes. I waved frantically, trying to catch his attention. "The flickering movement is just behind me," he said. And then he looked right at me in the mirror. His eyes grew wide and wet. He said "I-. He said again "I-" and then he choked. Then he screamed. Then I screamed, only again no sound came out. He fell to the floor, and for a moment I remembered. I remembered blue lights and blood in my throat and a dark planet lit by no sun. And then I forgot it, or at least what it looked like, only that it was. Or never was. Or still is. His wallet was no longer in my studio. His...my driver’s license was no longer in my hand. My familiar teenage intern was no longer lying on the ground. The mirror he was looking into is now shattered into thousands of intersecting cracks like parched desert dirt. I approached the mirror, hoping to see a face I knew. A young man's face I just barely remember. But I only saw a multiplicity of me, a man divided, unrecognizably, under razor sharp lines. And behind me a glowing slash in the bathroom wall.

(Episode 106 - Filings)

CECIL: "Better not look in the mirror," Cal said as he nervously simulated the sound of laughter. A dribble of blood ran down his chin and onto his chest.

(Episode 108 - Cal)

KEVIN: Jason and Falisha wanted their friends to know they were happy, so they began to practice smiling in the mirror, but even they couldn't see a change in their faces. Plus, mirrors were upsetting because of all the people who would gather behind them in the reflection but that weren't actually there when they turned around to face them.

KEVIN: Their long house was a long pit. And every single mirror in their home was gone, along with the ghastly figures who gathered in the reflections. 

(Episode 120 - All Smiles' Eve)

CECIL: Nazr did not see Barks Ennui. But he was not without his own troubles. He would find, some evenings, that when he looked in the mirror there were two of him. One of him sitting behind the other. He would stand and the second reflection would stand too. It would follow all of his movements from behind his primary reflection. This went on for days. Then, one night, he looked in the mirror and there was only one of him. He sighed, feeling some relief to the tension that had been with him so long as to become his new normal. And that is when, in the mirror, his second reflection stepped into the room, followed by Frances Donaldson. Nazr whirled. The room he was in was empty. He looked back in the mirror. There was his own face, terrified. And behind that, on the bed, there was himself again, with Frances. The two of them were kissing, passionately. He watched himself kiss. And then his reflection and the Frances in the mirror stopped kissing and looked up at him, with startled faces. They stayed frozen that way, and he stayed frozen too. After several moments, the mirror couple smiled. Their smiles got wider and wider, and then they were both dead, blood covered and sprawling at irregular angles. And then they were alive again and smiling at him. He shouted and stumbled back from the mirror. From then on, he took to covering his mirrors, and that worked for a few days, but then one day he came home to find himself in his bedroom, already sitting in front of the covered bedroom mirror. The him that was in his bedroom looked up at him who had just entered with wide eyes and a yawning mouth, and Nazr (who believed himself to be the real Nazr) turned and walked out his house. He checked into a motel and decided to stay there for awhile.

(Episode 122 - A Story of Love and Horror, Part 2: "Spire")

LAUREN: These shadows don't even have faces. We cannot discern their intentions or feelings. They move around in quick jerks and starts, flickering in and out of our vision, sometimes standing just behind us while slowly tilting their heads. And unless you're looking in a mirror, there's no way you can even see that. 

(Episode 137 - The Mudstone Abyss, Part 3)

LEONARD BURTON: Let me describe to you the shape of Cecil Palmer. He is a line of leafless mesquite trees. He is a glass factory. He is golf ball-sized hail. He has a voice like distant highway traffic. He loves coffee and handshakes. He wears tight clothing and has never once worked with modeling clay. He covers mirrors with cloth and has an irrational fear of glowing lights beneath locked doors in dark hallways.  You cannot know any of this because Cecil is my vision, not yours. He is real, all the same. He is to be my replacement when I retire. But he does not exist. So I can never retire. I am your permanent host.

(Episode 148 - The Broadcaster)

CECIL: I can see myself in their reflective face. I... I do not like this. I do not like this at all. Please go. Please leave. I cannot. I... I am covering this window with a sheet. I do not like this mirror. I do not like it one bit. No. 

(Episode 149 - The General)

CECIL: ... [somber] and *that* is what I saw in the mirror that day, and why I do not like to go near mirrors ever. 

(Episode 160 - The Weather)

CECIL: Do you ever stare at yourself for so long in the mirror that you no longer understand what you look like? Is this the same effect as thinking about someone you miss so much that you forget the shape of their face? Why would you do that? Why would you refuse to maintain order? Are you refusing? Or are you a victim of your own mind? Do brain cells dictate souls? Is thought matter? Does thought matter? Who can say? Can the person looking back at you from the mirror tell you the answer? Just because you can see a person, does that mean that person exists?  Is it you you are looking at? Or is it someone else?

CECIL: Basically, why do I know I am me? How many times have I seen myself in the mirror? Is it bad that the answer is rarely? Shouldn’t we all be afraid of mirrors? Or is it just me? How many times, in a fit of dissociation, do we see someone else behind us? Are you, too, too afraid to turn around? Do you really want to challenge the veracity of your eyes? Do you think disbelief in death will make it disappear? Are awareness and manifestation one and the same? So, what did I see in the mirror today? Don’t we all see the same thing? Isn’t it a person who looks exactly like ourselves? And weren’t they making the same physical gestures? And behind that person, in the reflection, did you not also see, just over your shoulder, a pair of eyes? The curve of a head? And did you notice how that head was human in shape but maybe only a third the size?

CECIL: Who is behind you in the mirror? Or what is behind you? Should I speak in present or past tense? Is the face there? Or is the face gone now? Are you no longer at the mirror? Do you feel safer? Why do you assume that because you aren’t looking in the mirror right now that the tiny face and spiny digits are not still behind you?

CECIL: Are you thinking about it? Are you starting to forget exactly what it looks like? Do you want to go to the mirror again? Do you want to stare and stare at it until you can comprehend what it is?

CECIL: What if we went to the mirror together? If we don’t feel alone in our feelings, could we conquer our fears? Are we in agreement, you and I? What are you even looking at? Is your focus drifting to your shoulder? Can you not do that? Can you resist the urge? What will staring directly into your terror accomplish?

CECIL: When was the last time you saw your mother? It’s been since childhood, hasn’t it? Didn’t she warn you about mirrors? Didn’t she tell you they would be your demise? Or was that just a popular bedtime story?

CECIL: What did your mother tell you about swing sets? What did she say to you when you yelled to her for help? Did she lean over your sobbing face and ask you: “Why are you crying when you don’t even exist?” Did she tell you again about the mirror?

CECIL: Did you figure it out? Could you see past your own mental inventions? Who out there looked beyond the long, gape-jawed figure and its inexplicable whines? Did you see the table? There in the mirror image of your house, did you see the table? You hadn’t noticed the table before, had you?

CECIL: Why was the table only in the mirror? Why isn’t it real?

CECIL: What’s inside the drawer of the rickety table in the mirror? What other uncanny discoveries await you if you could just break through? Is it as simple as breaking through?

CECIL: Do you want to know what’s in the drawer below the table? Shouldn’t it be as easy to obtain as a lightweight, wool button up coat, all black? But nothing easy ever is, is it? How do you get to a table that’s right in front of you, but only visible in a mirror?

CECIL: Are you only concentrating on the table now? And you’re sure it only exists in the mirror? You double checked? Do you want to know what’s inside the drawer on the front of that table? Are you willing to break something? Are you willing to break the mirror, yes, but so much more? Are you willing to go to a place from which you cannot return? Are you willing to learn things you cannot unlearn? Do you have a hammer? Or if not, can you find something heavy that you can lift? Will you smash the mirror? Will you do it quickly? Why are you hesitating? Have you let your comfortability lapse into carelessness? Why did you take your eyes off the creature on your neck? Did you see the blood or feel the pain first? Is it tearing into your flesh? Is that why you’re screaming? Can you still break the mirror? Are you losing consciousness? Are you? Are you? Are you?

CECIL: If you look into the mirror you just smashed do you see that the creature is gone? Cool, right? But isn’t it strange that all about you on the floor are shards of the mirror you shattered, yet in front of you, the mirror remains, fully intact? Strange? Or scary? Wouldn’t you think that the mirror being simultaneously broken and unbroken is strange, while the fact that you have no reflection is scary? Is that true though? Do you have a reflection? Do you see yourself? On the floor of the mirror’s world? Is your body crumpled on the floor like a wet towel? Is your lower jaw hanging open because you died screaming, or because of gravity? Do you have a blanket of some sort? Why don’t you cover that mirror up? Why don’t you cover all the mirrors, in fact? While you are walking about your home, do you notice the antique table by the door, with its tarnished, yet ornate, brass bulb knob? Was that table always there? Did you enter the mirror world? Or were you always in the mirror world? What else is different around you?

CECIL: Now what? Will you cover the mirrors and sweep the floor and pretend it never happened? Will this prevent it from happening again? Are awareness and manifestation one and the same?

(Episode 171 - Go to the Mirror?)

CECIL: Whatever the Distant Prince keeps behind the Narrow Place has left me hollow and shambling. Less and less of me. This time quite literally. When I looked again, I did not have a nose. It is quite upsetting to see your own face but without a nose. Think about this now. Think about looking in the mirror and seeing your face, but the nose is gone. So you will understand why I vomited in the street. And this other me, he vomited too, for exactly the same amount of time, stopping precisely when I did.

(Episode 209 - The Black Coat)

FACELESS OLD WOMAN: I am less good at being seen, but I am working on that using a system of whistles and mirrors. CECIL: Huh. Mirrors.

("The Librarian")

EARL HARLAN: Oh yes! Yes, I will wake up that morning, and I will stare at myself in the mirror repeating, “You can do this, Earl. You can do this, Earl. You can do this, Earl.” Until my reflection says, “You’re right.” And then we’ll brush each others’ teeth, and trim each others’ mustaches, and comb each others’ hair… CECIL: Awwww! EARL HARLAN: …and then step through the mirror and once again switch places in each others’ mirrored world for the day.

("The Investigators")

JEFFREY: Yeah, yeah. Yeah turns out most people are afraid of what they are, so now I’m also terrified of mirrors and reflective surfaces, so…

("ALL HAIL")

[lightnersdream]

ok im gonna start with ones i like and molds i like that are returning

first of all these cats the small longhair (first one) is very cute i like the colors and the asymmetrical ear. and the second one is one of my favorite cat molds ever so im so happy to see it back and the third one is kind of not quit there but i really like the purple and the green and the white it reminds me of Seren sort of but the hues are just a little off. still good i want it

they returned deer which i think are very cute and didn't get enough pets originally and eye symbols !? AND FOXES ARE BACK !!! a couple of these new ones have symbols as a weird rarity thing i think but it doesnt actually mean anything. and i just think the woodpecker and snow leopard is cute and the baby skunk/squirrel (they used it interchangably) is so good colorwise

on molds ive never fucking seen before in my life: i admire their dedication to pulling very strange, late-game molds that only got used once or twice (especially from the petriplet sets, they returned the polar bear baby molds as well). i had to scour the website for that turtle mold ive NEVER seen it before

they used the wolf body with the husky head to make a standing mold and its too shaggy for a husky but you know what. resourceful. even though there was already a standing mold made for this head ! im surprised they havent returned the last husky mold because it was only ever used 3 times (one as a g4 blind bag, so two times) but theyve used this one several times now

AND THE NEW MOLDS... YES THERE'S TWO NEW MOLDS!!! i'm mixed on them. theyre cute! the sloth feels like it's closer to that late g3 feel, and the capybara is a little... odd, but it's a hard face shape to work with in this style. i think my main thing is the eyes don't feel sculpted enough into the heads? there's a bump for the eye, but it's hard to explain. on original molds the eyes were often "sunken in"?

big image so you can see it, but if you look you can see they have a sculpted "in-set" effect, to closer mimic the effect of glass eyes and stuff (they did do a couple of those in the original runs, too!), with the sort of curved cheek and ring around the eye that slopes inward. the newer molds are more sticker-like: they have a raised area for the eye to go, but lack the sculpted in-set effect which is making them look more off compared to the originals than they actually are. it's easiest to see that on the capybara but the sloth actually looks a little closer but still too flat (though it's hard to tell based on the -2 pixel image i have

and the other thing you may have noticed is the

REALLY strange color choices they keep doing? i like bright, colorful oversaturated 'ugly' color palettes but i am kind of confused what the thought process is behind some of these. especially the first usage of their capybara molds being so bright and random and the woodpecker's blue beak? and the kiwi is cute, but the orange is just Too orange and the blue and yello is just Too Much its all very very very saturated. in irl pics its a little better but still clearly really saturated paint that looks like A lot, like the shades are just a little off where they should be

also i cant find pictures but there's supposed to be two new toucans and a PEACOCK so win for me

[strixcattus]

The Holghras

Week two of bestiaryposting met me with much less inspiration than the first—I've been a bit pressed for time and motivation, and the lack of concrete description in this entry didn't help. Nevertheless, I think I've got a decent Holghras despite not taking as much time on the artwork as I did for the Wutugald.

This is clearly some sort of ground-nesting bird, but other than that there's no information on its appearance. It reminded me of game birds—while I have no clue what the real deal is, I'd guess that's not far off the mark. I took a lot of inspiration for its appearance from the prairie chicken, but couldn't (and didn't want to) shake the image of it having a wide face like a frogmouth or potoo. I'll do my best to create a modernized description of this guy!

The Holghras

The Holghras (Fusoris invidia) is a game bird native to the prairies of North America. It stands at just under 20 inches tall at maturity, and typically weighs between five and seven pounds. Its appearance is squat with a large head and brown-and-grey barred feathers. Both males and females feature upturned tails with stray feathers to either side, "horns" on the sides of their heads, and distinctive yellow beaks and eyes. Male Holghras have bright red and yellow feathers on their necks, backs, and the undersides of their wings.

A Holghras's diet consists mainly of insects and other invertebrates. They will both dig in the dirt for grubs and worms and catch low-flying insects in their mouths. Holghras are also seen to eat seeds, berries, and the chicks and eggs of other Holghras.

Holghras are perhaps best known for their croaky "OL-gra!" mating call, which can be heard in their range throughout the mating season—which lasts from May to October. Often, Holghras will mate multiple times during this season, and lucky individuals will have several clutches of eggs a year.

Unfortunately, such instances are uncommon due to the tendency of the male Holghras to smash the eggs of the female in a bid to mate with her. Female Holghras will seldom leave their nests if they are incubating eggs, but as their mates show no fidelity, they must still hunt for themselves, and it is during this time that the male will approach her nest, destroy her eggs, and make mating displays once the female returns.

Once Holghras chicks are hatched, the mother has the freedom to carry her chicks with her, sheltering them beneath her wings as she walks around to hunt for insects. If she is ever to take off in flight to catch her prey, she must beware—a male Holghras might kill and cannibalize her chicks while they are not under her wings.

On occasion, a female Holghras will steal the eggs or chicks of another to use as decoys, leaving her own hidden. However, Holghras chicks imprint strongly on their birth mothers, and will leave a surrogate immediately upon seeing their true parent. The chicks must be quick, however, as there is a chance that the two mothers will fight, and one may end up killing and eating the other's chicks.

Holghras nests are built on the ground, at the bases of thick shrubs. The mother will roll her eggs, which come in clutches of two to four, under the shrub where a full-grown Holghras will find it difficult to reach. She will then sit as close to the eggs as possible to incubate them, covering them with twigs and dust when she must be absent. Once the chicks hatch, they will nestle themselves under the shrub if ever the mother cannot take them with her, burying themselves with leaves and clods of dirt if approached.

A mother Holghras has a strong desire to protect her chicks until such a point as they are able to fly and leave her nest. She will lure predators away by pretending to be injured and staggering away to a distance where they cannot track her back home once she drops the pretense and flies away. If she ever sights a male arriving to kill her eggs, she will move some distance away and pretend to have no eggs, mating with the male and raising the new clutch alongside her previous one.

[informatikerin-freyja]

The chill winter air was biting at my face as I walked down the streets of that suburb, though this minor discomfort was far from my mind. Instead I was focussed on my apprehension. I had been training for many decades to get to this point. The first time I could be called upon in my duty as a hunter-gardener. No supervisor. No simulation. I was finally licensed, and expected, to perform the duties of my station without oversight or hinderance.

Fortunately, my feet had enough situational awareness to deliver me, step by step, toward the address which had called on my services a few days prior. I knocked on the door, and a few moments later it swung open and I was staring into the concerned eyes of an elderly woman. I explained to her that I had been dispatched from the hunter-gardener guild in response to her call. Though my prompting only seemed to further her sense of disquiet.

She hesitated for a moment before explaining that she wanted to plant around twenty or so tulips in her front garden, but she didn't want to commit to that until I could quote the cost. I pulled out my tablet and input the request into the guild calculator. Tulips in this climate, and twenty of them. This would be a big job. The cost could be substantial. Planting that many tulips would certainly require a significant amount of hunting in order to balance the gardening.

We both waited with some tension for the tablet to compute the final requirement. In order to free up enough space in the ecosystem for those tulips it would be required for me to kill around three elephants. I told her and I saw her expression drop. She started to mutter about forgetting it, but I reminded her that she was not under any obligation to sacrifice her quality of life for the protection of animals. It took some persuading, but she eventually agreed to sign off on the order, and accept moral responsibility for the killing of the elephants.

As per requirements, the gardening came first. I am insufficiently humble to deny that I was truly an artisan when it came to gardening, as all hunter gardeners must be. It would be wrong to suggest that I dug in the ground to make trenches for the tulip bulbs. Rather, I communicated with the dirt. I reassured it. I encouraged it. I inspired it. Until eventually the earth itself was enticed to simply part open and receive the tulip bulbs as one would new and most assuredly welcome houseguests. Though it would be a while for the bulbs to sprout, I could already tell that no finer row of tulips has ever been planted into the earth. It was unnecessary to wash dirt from my hands as an ordinary gardener would, for I made no mess in carrying out my work. It would be obscene to displace even a single grain of dirt whose relocation was not necessitated for this process, and my skill was above making such obscenities.

Returning to my vehicle, it was time to pay the debt that my craft had just created. I proceeded for some time until I found myself at the old city centre. Prior to the great shift this place would have been bustling with thousands upon thousands of tourists eager to pay their tribute at the great temples of capital around us. The now empty streets were overrun with all sorts of animals. The great temples of capital had long since degraded to reveal in form their true, wretched, soul. Hollow, empty, disposable, and ultimately destined to be disposed.

Fortunately my work would go swiftly today. I could see a pack of elephants gathered around a fallen industrial air conditioning unit, suckling the vital life sustaining refrigerant from its rust addled shell. I could see these beasts were no novices to life in the new world, they had clearly warped and conformed to their environment. Their trunks sprouted beak like calcifications, allowing them to smash into the air conditioner as if they were seagulls breaking into the soft flesh of a crab. I contemplated firing a round into the air conditioner to ease its misery, but it was unclear whether it had gained sentience and I did not want to waste ammunition on needless acts of mercy.

In my deft hands my weapon was less an instrument of brutality but something more akin to a paint brush with which I could paint new fates for the animals I was ordered to dispatch. I knew there were some real sadists in this line of work, people who became hunter gardeners out of a love for hunting. I was different. I became a hunter-gardener because it was now the only legal route to being a gardener. Were it possible to discard the hunting from the profession I would in a moment, but the new world did not allow us such luxuries. In any case, I took seriously my charge, vowing to retire if ever an animal should suffer an instance of pain due to my failure. I painted new fates for two of the elephants that day, and the fates I painted for them were swift and graceful.

Having completed my task, I returned to that chill suburb. Though it was now nearing the end of the day, and some heat from the day lingered amongst the still houses and cars. I knocked on the door and soon encountered the same lady. I informed her that the order was complete. Twenty tulips, at the cost of two elephants. Who could say whether this was a fair trade. In any case, she paid my fee, and I departed into the evening, my first order completed without issue. Now I was truly a hunter-gardener.

[ducknotinarow]

# ( Raph & Leo - roulette verse choice uwu )

| send me “#” for cell phone headcanons about our muses including:

03/07

"Ah wanna know what I gotta on my bro uh? eh whatever ain't 'ike its anything special or nothin"

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

"Fearless"

" 've been teasin' Leo with that nickname for years, so ya I use it for my contact name for him. Sides' I may say it to haze 'em alittle but it sort true. Leo will act when he gotta no matter what so fine it's some sort'a compliment to."

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

[image description] A rather old photo clearly a younger Leo, flat on his face after tripping during a training session.

"heh" raph chuckles as he clicks away from the photo "Look it's annoying how Leo is all mist'a perfect so yeah nice ta have a reminder now an' again sides" smirk pulling on his beak "he hate it"

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

Get up and fight by Muse

Get up and fight

Get up and fight

I can't do this thing without you

I'm lost in this without you

"....." Arms crossed as he keeps his gaze on anywhere but forward right now soon growling "fine okay look, I may 'ike gettin' unda hus shell an' such but...he still my broth'a an' well I may not always show it but I do...sort of ya know. Look to him.. shut it!"

- my muse’s last text to your muse

[ text] "out what's it to ya "

"Don't know why he always gotta be in my bussniess jeez. I aint gonna get into trouble or nothin'." He pauses and thinks a bit on that "well much. Sides I'm normally with Case so I'm fine he don't gotta worry for fucks sake."

----

12

"Eh guess i'm next I ain't got no issue here sides' if any of it annoys Leo? bonus."

- what your muse’s name is in mine’s phone

"eh I sorta change it here and there depends how annoying he's been." goses to check what it is in the moment.

'Mamanado'

" ight now this, sometimes he is also lameando in my phone too. Depends why excatly I'm pissed or annoyed with 'em at the time. Sometimes just nerd cause fuck he is so annoyin' with that dumb show of his."

- what your muse’s picture is in mine’s phone

[image description] a photo of Captian Ryan from Leo's favorite TV show Space Heros standing in as Raph's photo for Leo.

He just offers a shrug a of his shoulders "eh it's still his favorite show...and 'ike it super lame totally lame and borin'....but I guess the time I have sorta sat and watched wit' him it not always so bad."

- what your muse’s ringtone is in mine’s phone

Brother - remix by waterbury mesivta

And travelled different roads

We've taken different paths

I know we'll always end up on the same one when we're old

"....okay yeah that not so much rippin' on the guy now." Looks away and quirks his beak "Leo annoys me an' whatever I might not always like him, but I always love him an' well I know he'll always be there if I need him an' I hope he knows that. Well that I'll also ya know" rubs at the back of his neck "be there for 'em too."

- my muse’s last text to your muse

[ text ] "eat sewer slugde"

"He kept buggin' ta know where I was cause he couldn' find me in my room and such, pft I was jus' hiding out with Donnie but he don't need ta know 'hat. Always in my fuckin' bussniess."

[exlwandering]

Finally wrote something for the first time in months. 11.7k words. Don't ask me how I don't fucking know.

This is gonna be a slow burn romance about my ocs Celica and Lemal. Neither are human, Celia is Kinda like a rabbit and Lemal is more akin to a raven. Okay. gonna word dump now. Tried to edit but if it's... weird. or has any typos... You know what to do. Enjoy Chapter one! More may come. hopefully.

Celica

In my dreams, since I was small I have always had a nightmare. Dark feathers wrap around me delicately, silently, rising and falling with the breath of a beast that lays beneath me, it sleeps many hours but it will awaken, my whole life this dream has only gotten that far, me sitting in silent terror of what would happen to me if I awoken such a beast, but last night. It woke up, with no real reason other than it tired of its rest, I put my arms out to stop it but no matter how I fought it was upon me, beak tearing into my flesh, massive claws tearing me apart and breaking bones, teeth finally pulling my flesh out to finally consume me. No matter how quiet I had always been, how soft or sweet, how light I had been on its back, I knew it would wake no matter how hard I prayed. 

I woke up with a jolt. I lay in my bed, soft and plush, the sun rolling into my room through the open window, the curtains blowing in the gentle breeze. Lighting up the floor and  the edge of my bed. For a moment I just sit there breathing in the moist air of new spring, that is of course before I remember the day. Today is the eve of my wedding. 

I stumble out of my room, still in my nightgown, walking past servants and siblings alike, all my brothers and sisters stop to stare at me while I keep walking. Pushing through the dining room doors hoping to find solace in a warm meal. I first spot my Papa, tired eyes and panic lining his face and he turns away from a guest of some sort, his whiskers on end, ears perked in distress, crown lying unworn on the table. This strikes me in my tired state, he never likes to take it off, with so much family people forget who he is to them, it helps to remind them that they should respect him,of course it rarely works with actual family but still. I turn to my mothers spot at the table where she is crying. Crying. My mother is sobbing at the table while turning to me finally. This sobbers me up for a moment as I take a full sweep of the room and  finally notice our guest. 

Tall, much too tall, his feathered head almost reaching the ceiling, or it would had he not been crouched over the table with pen and parchment under his massively large clawed hands. His eyes are black and glossy and pointed totally at me before they glare disapprovingly at me, I remember I'm in my nightdress. 

He lifts his paper for me to see, it’s not in my language but in Scalsy, the written language of the predators of the west, something I learned to read alongside my own language while I was still very little. The paper reads, to my great dread, “It's time to go.”  Four simple words that will leave me dead by tomorrow. But I don't say that. All I say, in as much of a voice that I can muster is, “Alright. I'll get packed,” he seems to wince at this, holding one of his ears, or where his ears would go, in place is a tuft of feathers that just looks like an ear. 

“Hold on,”  Papa starts, “She's not going anywhere!”  Papa has a snear across his face, showing his neck breaker teeth in a promise of violence. The man doesn't respond much other than in annoyance. He turns his head to write again. After a moment filled with scribbling sounds he lifts his paper again. To my father who draws a quick breath in before growling low, “You wouldn’t fucking dare!”  The man then turns the paper to me with small amusement playing at the base of his beek, he’s smiling. The paper reads, “It’s this girl or we take another, your choice.” 

“I'll go, I’ll go!” I put my hands in front of me, he again covers one of his ears and lets out a small growl in my direction, my father looks defeated. The man writes again, “Go get dressed and packed if you aren’t already. Now.”

I run to my room on all fours as fast as I can and start shoving my pants, shirts, books, and many pens in a chest. Once finished with that, I darted out of my nightgown and into a nice dress that had been left in my near empty closet. I turn again to my room for any keepsakes I want to take with me, pictures of family, drawings from my little siblings, my pocket watch, a bag of berry bush seeds, my newish diary, several empty diaries, and a small but bright candle, as well as something to light it. 

Papa came bounding after me and had been saying my name the whole time I was shoving things away, he finally grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me out of my panic but also shaking small sobs out of me. It takes me a moment to stop them. He hugs me softly. 

“Celica, I had a gift for you,” he let’s me go from the hug I so wish never would end. I look at him and then look down at his hand, small and soft, the pads slightly covered in his brown fur, he’s holding a small locket. He puts it around my neck slowly and lovingly, I hold my hair out of the way, the mess of soft curls getting tangled in the chain.

Once he’s done I open the locket and see the portrait of my great-something-aunt and her husband. I remember hearing her story for the first time, huddled in a soft blanket in my fathers lap. How a predator had butchered her, that only taters of her clothes and blood had been found, the rest of her likely consumed. 

A quick moment of fury filled me, of all days to give me this damned thing. Why today? When I’m to marry the king of the predators? The one who is likely the most vicious?  What the hell would have led my father to hand this over now? I looked up at him in fury and then stopped short, tears pricked his eyes. 

“Don’t forget what they do, how they butcher us. Stay safe.” The last part was a whisper, his tears falling with his voice. 

I hug him again, then whisper back, “Yes Papa.”

…

A loud thump fills my ears while I sit outside next to the carriage. It’s massive yet elegant, but I can't really care about it. I am a bit grateful tho, Mont, as the man reveals his name to be lets me say goodbye to my siblings and even some extended family, this is of course before he knows how many of them there are, after the tenth good bye he scribeles something hastily down, “For fucks sake girl, how much family can one princess have??”  I don't tell him there are many more of them out of fear he'll change his mind. 

Mont pulls me out of my thoughts for a moment, tapping my shoulder with his massive yet rather dull claw. He’s written again. 

“Finally time to hit the road girl, get your father. Then we'll leave.”  He turns to enter the carriage. 

“Alright,” I respond before darting to the other side of the carriage, fathers just staring out into the woods. 

“Hey,” I grab his coat and give it a small tug, “It’s time to go Papa.” I speak softly, I don't really know why other than it might serve to soothe him. He looks at me a moment before finally following me, holding my hand the whole way through. And then I hear my mother talking inside of the coach. 

She’s talking faster than Mont can write about whether she can come, if there are any laws against it, about why he won’t talk, about why he’s so rude. I know what she’s doing and I almost go to stop her but I don't. I want to see if it works. It doesn't help that Mont is a rather slow writer, or that he clearly is running out of paper. Finally he throws his pencil down in rage and motions her to stop talking, after a heart beat he nods in defeat. 

“I'm coming with you, and no one can stop me!” she screams from the coach before a snarl of pain follows, she quickly apologizes before we clamber in the coach ourselves, happy to be able to laugh together one last time.

My mother, as the ride continues, does not stop her questions, my father had long since gotten used to her very… Inquisitive nature, but Mont, with his apparently sensitive ears and being now trapped in a small space with my mother, looks like he's about to chuck her out of the window, so my Papa and I try our best to stop her questions. Now is a time to be quiet. 

There are times however when Mont does accept questions, through writing he told us 1 question each so that he could quote on quote, “give himself some peace”  My mother goes first, after a moment of great thought. 

“Can you really not talk?”

His response, “Of course I can talk, you little things just can’t really hear us, this (writing what he’s saying) is better.(apparently)”

My father has no questions so he gives me his. My first question is: “Why did they send you (a slow writer) to get us (those who can’t even hear you)?

His response: “King Lemal is my best friend, I promised I’d keep you things safe. Wouldn’t want a dead bride now would we?”  

I’m tempted to make my next question: “Or a dead princess? Queen? Or even a dead King?”

But I quickly remembered how little the predators valued us, only being meek and eager “prey.”

So I instead asked: “What is King Lemal Like? As a person not a king.”

His response was rather long and thus took him several minutes, but when he was done: “Lemal is proper and quite respectable, but wild when he wants to be.  He’s pretty smart too, though is more of a smart-ass than anything else.  He’s into reading and hunting, obviously, and he’s a bit creative with his nonsense. I wouldn’t worry about how he’ll treat you given his excitement for you. But he’s king, and you’ll be queen, so what does it really matter what he’s like, it’s not like you have a say either way.”  

While that last part I know is true, it still scares me so I’m silent the whole rest of the ride, resting between my parents one last time. 

I can’t help but think about how this has played out so far, about were it’s going, so quietly, while everyone is asleep i dig into my bag and pull out my pen and diary, going as quietly as i can to not wake anyone but when I look back up with said diary and pen Mont is staring at me clearly pissed, he motions for me to give him my diary. For a moment I’m terrified that he’ll take it but I don't see what choice I have, so I slowly hand both items to him, however instead of digging through them or throwing them out the window or anything else he begins to write inside of it. After a moment he hands both objects back, in large sloppy handwriting he wrote down, “By God am I glad that you're not gonna be my wife. But I’m up now, so write.” I flick my head back up to him but he’s looking out the window, looking annoyed yet passive. 

“Thank you,” I whisper before he waves his hand dismissively at me. 

I pour the whole day into the diary just before the sun breaks through the wood of the branches outside and once I’ve put my diary back into my bag and closed it over the hill I see a massive palace that reaches to nearly the heavens. I have to swallow my scream at just the sight of it. 

The slam of my carrier chest against the gravel of the drive breaks me of my trance, my Mama and Papa are beside me watching Mont try to pick the chest back up before forfeiting to its weight and dropping it again. He give me a look which i take as a pointed question, responding with: “I’m sorry, it’s mostly full of my books.” He gives me another look as if to say “what the fuck is wrong with you?” I responded with another apology. 

Many people are out and about on the drive, one coming to help Mont to pick up my luggage, several carrying other things into the palace (namely benches and decorations) but two are heading right toward my family and I, quickly. Two women by the looks of it, they didn’t have hair on their heads but their feathers were styled very nicely to swoop down and out every few inches making almost a wave effect, their necks were long and elegant holding up their heads and beaks. One of the women was walking straight to us while looking at us but the other was looking right at her, presumably someone of great importance by how she held herself and how she seemed to look down and altogether ignore everyone else, but me that it. 

They stopped right in front of us, presumably continuing a conversation we still couldn't hear no matter how close they got, the more regal one finally snapped her fingers and grabbed someone's attention before pointing down at us, the the man grabbed the arms of my parents, picked them up and started to walk away and before i had any say in the matter, the less regal women grabbed my arm and picked me up, showcasing me to the regal woman. 

The scream was pulled out of me but not of my parents, whom I heard grow more faint and distant as the woman surveyed me, lifting my chin, my arms and even poking my belly in one instance. Finally when she was done inspecting me, the woman holding me started to walk away at an alarming rate towards the palace, and in an instance we were inside. 

Her pace was faster than I could ever run yet she only seemed to be walking carrying me through the halls until finally we walked up to a false wall that opened up to a massive bathroom. She began to rip the dress off of me before dropping its remnants on the ground, leaving the places she pulled against me sore and surely to bruise later. While this happened several other women were preparing soapy water that when I was eventually dropped carelessly into i discovered how cold it was. Shivering to the bone, the women proceeded to dose me in soaps and roughly scrub them into my fur leaving me looking like a massive bubble. When done with the scrubbing the woman who brought me in put her hand on my back, I realized just how large these people were to me as her hand not only covered my entire back but her fingers wrapped around my waist like she was holding a broom handle. She swept my body under the water and no matter how I thrashed I couldn't get out of her grip. Soapy water filled my mouth and nose and lungs, the taste reminding me of the small years of my childhood. Finally, after almost a minute of being held under the water and shaking to remove the soap I was pulled out from the water completely and dropped back in only this time free of the hand. I gulped in the air before lunging for the side of the tub so I would not have to swim in its depths again. As I sat there for a moment one of the bath ladies sat there looking sad for me but only for a moment before she tenderly pulled me out of the freezing water and into the warmth of her towel. That was when I retched. 

It was only water as I hadn't eaten since the morning before but it clearly disturbed the main woman, she glowered at the girl who held me who then resumed the drying process, scrubbing me so hard and fast I likely shocked the next person I touched. 

When the girl released me of my towel drying the woman again dragged me to another room giving a quick moment of reprieve. There I had faint oils rubbed into my back, throat and face, burning my eyes again. They used the oils to try and shape my fur, pushing it downward. In the end when I was pushed in front of a mirror, seeing my naked body almost made me laugh. 

Not only was i still damp with oils, but the way they shaped my fur made me look like I had been doused in water, it also darkened my fur in a very unattractive way, thankfully however my fur has always been bad at keeping a styled shape, it curls at the ends no matter how it's shaped usually destroying the style, something i am now thankful for. Besides, when I’m alone later I can always give it a tussle so the proper shape comes back and I don't look so… Bad. I don’t know how they expect me to marry though. I still have so little air in me that I'll Likely pass out at the altar, my eyes are brilliant red from the soaps and fragrance oils, and they used so much of said oils i look like i haven’t bathed in weeks despite the fresh wash, not to mention how I am barely standing on my own at the moment. 

My break at the mirror is very brief it seems as quickly a new lady has taken to role of manhandling me, showing me in a first much too big bra, likely mistaking my chest fur for breasts, then a much too small bra that won't go over my head, and finally one that, while tight, is still wearable. She jots something down and passes it to me. 

It reads,“We’ll get you more clothes in a few weeks.”

I’m very glad to have brought my own. The sizing process repeats with a pair of underwear that has straps that go around the tops of my thighs. Oh. Oh no. This woman’s fitting me for lingerie, OH HELL NO. I begin to take the bra off but given how tight it is it’s difficult. She catches me and shoves it right back on before grabbing an under dress and throwing that over me and then quickly grabbing a corset. I fucking hate corsets. It was starting to become a trend back home to wear ones but not like this one. This one, in contrast to the ones at home, was full sized and would pull in my stomach and my chest. However this might be my save and grace!

My chest fur wont stay in the corset. The underdress is too low cut to hold it down so everytime she begins to tighten my fur rises. Over and over again. After the fourth time putting it back on I think she's gotten so tired of it she’ll quit. I am very wrong. She instead pushes my fur down, tightens the corset with practiced precision to an extremely tight fit, then shoves what leftover fur pops out when she removes her hand back into the corset. Some relief follows the removal of her hand but very little. I can barely breathe, even less so than before. 

She pays this no mind as she goes about picking a finally piece while I try to remove the corset myself or to at least loosen the damn thing but i can’t, and when she turns to watch as my hands finally fall, as i finally give in, i watch as she smiles at me in the mirror. 

While this corset woman is picking a dress the woman who nearly drowned me comes back in with a smile on her face before it falls when she looks at me. They begin to argue. (or at least it looks like it, this not hearing thing is getting on my last nerve today) Finally the conflict is resolved almost before it can begin when the Nearly-Drowned-Me-Lady (NDM lady until i learn her name) pecks the corset lady right between the eyes drawing blood that shines against her beak. She holds the wound in her hand, crying before nearly running away, back into the bathroom.

I look up at the remaining woman who’s grabbed a small (in her hands) dress and puts it on me. 

Looking at myself  is almost a sad event, oily fur, red eyes, frequent flinching when I breathe, and a dress that consumes me. However she seems quite pleased with her handy work. She points her clawed finger to me I guess to say don’t move a muscle before leaving again. 

I focus on learning to breathe in this thing, as I'll probably be in it for a while, but then I hear steps towards me coming from the bathroom. A woman pokes her head out of the door frame looking around. It takes me a moment to realize she's the woman who toweled me down. She's walking toward me with another towel, much smaller this time, and a small bowl of water. I don’t fight her when she lifts my head and gently pours water in my eyes, catching it with the towel. When she's done both eyes she towels my face down removing excuse oil titering and making soft crow sounds. When she’s done she shakes her head, sits at a nell and puts her hand out which i slowly shake. She sees me wince and looks confused for a moment before her  eyes widen and she unzips the back of my dress and losses the corset, giving me enough room to finally take a full breath. 

“Thank you,” I breathe, relieved to do so. She nods her head then snaps her neck to the door the previous woman left out of, gathering the bowl and towel, patting my head and walking back to the bathroom. 

After a heartbeat the NDM woman walks back into the room, grabbing my hand and dragging me to another event. 

I’d completely zoned out while she pretty much dragged me down the halls, she didn’t want to pick me up again but she didn’t want to stoop down so she could hold my hand, instead she was carrying me like a stuffed toy, my feet hitting the ground ever so often. 

Finally we came to a stop in the middle of a massive hallway with curtains blocking a doorway, after a beat we go inside of it were the first woman who inspected me sits lounging on a cushioned seat, very little has changed of her appearance, in fact only one thing has changed, she’s now wearing a crown. This woman is queen. Or was queen, as Lemal is already King. So either he is going to have two wives in a few hours or this is his mother. The mother angle seems more plausible as she, ever so often in her feathers hints of gray, no doubt dyed away to be forgotten about. 

The women are talking about me while I just stand there, focusing on the ground. Once more I have no way of knowing what they're saying and that fact alone makes me feel like digging a hole and collapsing the entrance while in it. 

I look up at the ex-queen (I think she is anyway, it’s a decent guess) trying to remember her name. I remember her husband’s, He was King Monal  the… either third or fourth, I still can't remember what her name was. Someone however took my mind off of that as she motioned backward to someone behind her, she turned all the way and started to show the person away, Even the NDM lady was stood up from her seat (i don’t know when she sat down, I guess I just didn’t notice) and began to sho the person away as well, they were behind the curtain but I’m fairly certain that it was a man behind it. He pecked in further and the ex-queen was smiling broadly as she put her hand on his chest pulling a smile out of him, looking at his chest it looked like he was laughing with them. (Maybe) Finally he gave a small wave (that might have been pointed at me) before leaving the room. The rest of the time i spent in there was a blur. 

After an hour spent in silence came the part of the day I was most dreading, looking through the windows I can see that the sun is going to set soon, maybe within the hour. 

There is so little sound, all that can be heard is the sound of people sitting, no chatter, nothing. Just me waiting until the doors opened. 

…

How will he kiss me.

It’s such a stupid question but one I have to ask. He has no mouth, only a beak. Hell, I don't even know what he looks like, I know what his species looks like but who knows if he knows what my species looks like, was he given a portrait? Even a description, i sure wasn’t so why should he be given one? Maybe they didn’t want him knowing what I looked like so if they killed me they could… That’s so stupid! This is stupid! 

The doors open, cutting my thoughts away and in perfect clarity the question of what he looks like is swept away.  

He’s tall, even for a predator he’s huge. He stands above the priest who’s standing on a slightly raised step, yet he’s taller than him. He’s also pristine, slicked back feathers, no style to them just straight down and sharp. His clawed and feathered feet hold up his form, dressed in a military uniform almost entirely free of decoration. His tail feathers nearly touch the floor, and he holds himself with pride when I first see him, but when he sees me his posture softens some, not much but some. 

I realize I’m just standing there staring and trying to take the first step forward, I feel stuck to the ground, weighed down in my too large and unflattering dress. But I do it. I take that step. I accept this shitty hand I’ve been dealt, so long as it means my family don’t have to take said hand. His hand.

I feel them all watching and I see my mother and father at the front bench watching my personal demise live, up close and personal. For a moment I regret being born. 

I’m shaking, visibly, but I don't care. I can’t even focus on that. 

He puts his hand out to me. I have to take it but I just stare at it for a moment. My future husband with his massive hand that could snap my neck with one motion, could wrap his hand around my body so tight my ribs break, the claws that, despite their dullness could slit through me like butter. And it would hurt too. And he’d have every legal right to do it. To rip me apart. To devore me like my aunt, like my sister's friend, like I’m his prey. 

…

I take his hand. I’ve stopped shaking too. 

The priest begins his speech

I only know this because I can ever so slightly hear it, it’s so low and quiet I feel like I'm hearing it from another room but I do, in fact, hear it. Mama and Papa probably can’t though. 

For several minutes he rambles about royal lineage which I ignore, but I can't help but listen when he brings my lineage up, the whole reason for this.

“-as this young princess, eldest of her kin joins us as many others like her have done before her, for the predators sacred right to feast, to indulge and laguash in a successful hunt. When this hunt finished many eons ago our people demanded a reward for a war well fought, and today ladies and gentleman, the payment to this king- this new age is paid in the blood and body of our newest queen!” 

I try to forget the blood and body parts as best I can. I can hear my mother weeping behind me. I zone out for a while longer before I hear him ask me “Do you take this man-?” I whisper an “I Do” before I try and stop myself. I hear him ask “Do you take this woman-?” and after a moment Lemal dips his head in a nod and turns to me before kneeling to- not my height, but as low as he can get, before pulling me close, rubbing the side of his beak against the side of my face. The priest then announced that it is done and we are now husband and wife. King and queen of the western predators. 

…

I feel like I'm going to throw up again. 

***

The rest of the night goes by with me either sitting in his lap, in his arms or on his shoulder, he’s laughing with his friends and family over the dinner table. I smell roasted meats fill the air and the mere thought of having to eat it with him fills me with terror. I've never eaten meat before and I do not intend to start now. I skipped that meal. Later courses came filled with large fruits as a type of desert and despite my hunger I eat as little as I’m able to- I don’t know why. I eat plenty of cake in the course afterwards but I don’t know why I don’t eat the fruit. Maybe its juice stains his hand too much like blood. Or maybe I’m just being extra cautious. 

At the end of the night my mother and father are escorted out and I jump out of King Lemals gentle grasp to catch up to them, I have to say goodbye at least, i have to. By the time I do so with King Lemal following at a leisurely pace while I run, I am sobbing, keeled over trying to catch my breath. 

In a moment I am up and jumping for my Papa one last time, to hug him just one last time. He catches me and we bury our faces into each other's necks, dampening them with tears. My mother jumps around both of us pulling her arms as far around the both of us as she can and crying into my scalp. 

After a long moment Papa pulls away but I try so hard to not let go but he’s stronger in his resistance. He puts his hand on the locket I've worn the whole day before kissing my forehead, my mother kissing my cheek and scalp and ear. Then Papa pulls back, bows and begins the walk back to the carriage they arrived with me in, leaving me behind. My mother lingers for longer, continuing to kiss and hug me, before whispering “Be so strong my love, I know you are.”  She has to be picked up but she still fights but not when she actually gets in the carriage itself. 

I sit in the grass and King Lemal and the guards that walked my family away all leave and for a moment I am alone. Completely and utterly. 

But only for a moment. 

Lemal returns. I hear him before I see him. He sits in the grass with me then slides and piece of cake in front of me. I reach for the dessert spoon and as soon as I have taken a bite he pulls my body to his. 

…

The rest of the night passes in a blur. When I start thinking again Lemal has me in his hands cradled to his chest. I start thinking again solely because I know where we’re going, to the bedroom, where he'll no doubt rip this dress off of me and delight in the lingerie they forced on me. I begin to wiggle in his grip, trying to get away but it feels like he just thinks i’m slipping because he holds me tighter when he reaches for the nob of the door, walks in, and shuts it behind him. 

I jump out of his hands and onto the bed like an idiot. He looks at me with an expression that reads excited are we  which I very much am not. I shake my head quickly and say “No! No, I really don’t want to, I-I- I don't even know you your highness!” He raises his hands to calm me, I think. He walks to the dresser, opens it and grabs clothes from it, then gestures to my chest of things, someone must have brought it here just after my arrival. He then walks away to, supposedly, the toilet room. 

As soon as the door closes I jump off of the much too high bed and quickly throw open the chest and grab my clothes before releasing something. I can't take off the corset, not by myself. Which means i cant put on the night dress, fuck. 

He walks out after a moment, in loose night pants and no shirt. It’s all just feather, feather, feather and more feather. Not to even mention his wings that arc up over his head. “No wonder the bed’s so big,” I whisper and I think this made him laugh. “

Hey… could I ask you to do something and you not act on what that action usually means?”  He didn't respond for several seconds until I turned and showed him the still very much tightened corset and still on dress. He raised his hands in protest but after he stopped I just replied with, “...Please?” He seemed to give in at that moment. Gesturing to the bed. 

It took some work, I had to completely flatten my feet to the ground, then bounce for a second to jump as high as the bed, however I was too close and smashed my face into the side of the mattress. I shook my head and turned back for him, looking for help but instead finding him trying so hard not to laugh at me he was holding his beak shut. After a moment passing he breathed clearly and stooped to help me but I was already trying again and I leapt between his arms when he reached me, glaring at him. 

He put his hand on his neck looking like he was about to apologize but I didn’t even want him to try. “Just help me, please.” After a moment, he sat on the bed and did just that, slowly pulling the dress off and undoing the corset until it was just string on the floor. I ripped it off and threw that away too. After jumping to the head of the bed on the opposite side. I slipped off the underdress while he averted his eyes then put on the night gown. And then… He laid down. Got under the blankets and laid down. So I did the same, and tried my absolute best to try and ignore the animal skins everywhere, the fact I was sleeping next to the king of the western predators, the fact that he is now my husband, and that we would do this every night. 

Lemal

“Okay so… what’s wrong with him?”

Father gave me a strange look, like I'm an idiot. “The problem is that your brother doesn't want to marry the prey girl!”

“Okay so why don’t you want the prey girl Cuss? And more importantly why does this affect me?” 

“Lemal! Isn't it obvious??” Father and I just stared at him for a moment waiting for him to say it. I already know, I’m just too tired at the moment. I went on a goose chase last night for barely anything to show for it other than heavy eyes and heavier limbs.

“I want to marry for love! And within my own species. And that just starts the list of why I don't wanna marry the prey girl! I’ve got many other reasons.” Father groaned and I just smiled at his answer.

“Always the helpless romantic brother.”

Balasey from her corner lounge chair piped in with, “He’s an idiot, like any girl could love you.”

“Thank you Balasey, always the optimist, love your input,” I muttered the last part so we could all pretend I didn't say it, of course she didn’t drop it.

“Excuse me you runt what did you say-”

“We haven’t the time for this- AND it's what Cusuma wants! Your little brother wants us to forget the topic at hand!” Father throws himself into his armchair in front of the window, it buckles under his weight and again makes that horrible sound. 

“When are you gonna fix that chair father- and anyways wouldn’t that make Cusuma King to marry that girl? That makes no sense, I am already king number one, number two why can’t I marry the girl, I have no qualms against it, marriage is marriage, you and mother worked out just fine. I mean there’s three of us, one more than needed  so that’s got to say something about how it worked out,” I take a sip of my drink, “so why not huh?”

“Well first,” Balasey chipped in, “they only had three because I’m the middle child and I’m a woman, the breeder is typically a man, so is the king, and then the girl is just an inconvenience.” 

“So you do want me to send you to the monastery?” Father added, Balasey sunk into her seat to avoid answering. “Thank you girl,” he took a sip of his drink. “And I want to teach him responsibility Lemal, the boy needs to learn. And if your sister is right about anything it’s that that boy will never marry, let alone have legitimate heirs on his own, so better to make him the object of the prey things attentions, beside if he really hates her he can kill her and just marry another! She’s dime a dozen, hell, she was born with three other females so we can get one for you too Lemal, if you really want. One wife for fun, one for breeding no problem.”

Balasey got up and left at that. 

“Or we can finally put your sister to work and get her married!!” We both looked at him then, “Oh! Come on boys, you know she needs to contribute to this family, she wasn’t born for no reason!”

Somewhere a door slams so loud I have no doubt that it’s been snapped in two. Father cuckles. 

“Father please don’t make me, I don't want a marriage to be stained with my supposed lover's blood!” 

“And anyway father,” I finally chim back in, “why make things complicated? You’re right, he needs to learn responsibility so why not send him to a soldiers camp, there are much simpler ways.” 

“I don’t wanna do that either!!” 

“OH pipe down you clown!” He swirled his drink thinking for a moment. 

“Besides,” they both looked at me Cuss in anger and father in curiosity, “I do find the things a decent amount attractive, I won’t waste her. Not like he will.” My idiot brother nods at this and father tits at his stupidity, I just laugh softly. 

After a moment of thought Father answers again, “Fine, you’re right Lemal why make this complicated, I can teach him in other ways.” 

“Perfect, solution found!”

Father got up from his chair, downing his drink, “By the way Lemal,” he began to walk out the door, “The wedding’s next week.”

“Sorry?” I stood up in astonishment, my brother whooping in victory in the corner.

***

I wish I didn't have to wake up, this was most days but especially today given I awoke to people running in and out of my room pulling things out here and there until it was almost completely empty. 

“What the hell are they doing? “  I say, groggy from another sleepless night.

“Moving your thing’s to the bridal sweet m’lord,” says my groomer, Ramey.

“Oh. Right, the marriage thing today,” I say, swishing his hand and comb away, he reaches for me again. “My feathers are fine, leave me alone Ram.”

“As you wish, should I get the ladies in the washroom to start your grooming or do you want to hunt first?”

“Hunt? Oh hell no, not today, besides I did enough of that last night. I made it to where only meats that I’ve hunted will be served tonight- of course at the expense of my me but who gives a shit about that?” Ramey is about to say something but I cut him off before he can show any concern, “Yes, please call the ladies to wash me off, also tell them about the new oils you bought. I don't think they know about that yet.”

“Of course,” I walk out of the room and he follows me, “I also bought some oils and soaps for your bride, do you want them to use them today or tonight or?” 

I stop to think about it. “Um, use the same oils on her as you do me so that she already smells like me, the fuckers in the palace get way too handsy. Unless she smells like me they’ll think they can make an early claim to her and I don’t want that. I’d like to keep her flower intact until I can get to her thank you.”  I stop in the main dining room, stretching in front of the window looking out it. Ramey looks with me. Then at me.

“You really should spend the whole night with her, she’ll be scared being in such a new and dangerous place on her own, she should at least have her husband share a bed with her on her first night here. I know how scary the adjustment is.”

I don’t look at him still, thinking for a moment. “Hey Ram,” I put my hands in my pockets, finally looking at him, “completely dose her in the oils I use today.”

After breakfast comes a well needed wash, I lavish in its coldness while the ladies wash out the bad oils and put in the good. 

I wonder what she looks like? She’ll be small, I know that but how small? Like… waste height or smaller?  Ya know, thinking about it i haven’t even seen too much of her species, then again she probably hasn’t seen too much of my own so at least we have that much in common. Heh, maybe we can use that to ‘get to know each other.’  

Right now, snapping out of my trance, I hear my mother titering in the other room, likely waiting for me to get the hell out of the bath. Looking around I realize that the ladies are more or less finished and now are cleaning around me so as to not be an idol. I stand, pulling half the tubs water out with me, and they soon begin drying me. 

“Are you ever going to be finished in there, you girl?” 

“Good morning mother, you can come in, you know.” One of the Ladies passes me my wax and I generously applied it to my beak. “Also you want me to look good on my wedding day don't you?” I say this with a smile getting a small dollop of wax in my mouth that I become preoccupied with getting out of my mouth. Moving to the mirror my mother walks in. 

“Oh cover yourself, you know you have more than one and I don’t wanna see that!” 

“Didn’t you birth me?”

“Yes but that was a long time ago and I didn’t even feed you so stop mocking me already, you'll make your poor mother even more gray!” I wrap a towel around my waste. 

“Oh you are too lovely, gray or not.” She replies with a simple “mh” before moving to the mirror, examining herself. 

“They're late, you know.”

“I don’t really care,” I start.

“Well I do, and it’s because of the boy, the one you’re friends with, the bastard boy. Who knows what he did,” she turns to me, “You don’t think he’s letting her say goodbye to all of those family members do you?”

“Why would that be a problem?” 

“You know why!!” I give her a look of confusion. “UHH! Those things breed like, like, like themselves! They have troves of themselves everywhere!”

“Not here.”

“Only because they are just smart enough to stay away for their own little lives sakes. The poor things. That prey girl thing will be such a pain. Your uncle has one and I don’t know how he does it, every generation, every king. It’s bogus.” 

One of the Ladys comes with my uniform for today and I stand ready for her to put it on me. “Don’t say that Mother,” I pause, “You know Ramey says that I should be nice to the girl, don’t you like him?” 

“I like that he knows how to make this old bag of bones and dust look like a brand new bag, yes! But I don't really value his opinion that much, sorry.”

“Well i think you ought to be nice to her, in fact, can you see to it that she’s treated gently. I want a pampered little pet, no stress or reason to worry at all. How’s that mummy, just like your wedding.”

“Ha! You’re the stupidest one of my children if you really think that my wedding was a happy one, oh I hate your father, he’s so annoying. He’s always been like your brother, it’s why he hates him.”

“Don’t say that mother!”

“It’s true!”

I’m about to say something more but then we hear a carriage pull into the drive. 

“OH, yes, finally!! I can get a look at the thing! Oh- come here, there’s three, come see, come see!!” She’s jumping in excitement looking down and out of the window. I come to join her just in time for the things to climb out. Also just in time to watch Mont fail at picking up a chest for a creature whose things could barely weigh a pound. 

“See?” She says mocking Mont, “Bastard children are runts what do I tell you!” 

“Next you’ll say Cuss is a bastard,” She puts her finger to the tip of her beak and I laugh. 

“I’m going down to see,” she says excitedly, I quickly follow now fully dressed to not only get a look but to help Mont. 

We arrive quick enough, mother and my bride's new lady in waiting head right over to them, I head over to help Mont and ask about my bride. 

Together we pick up the chest and lo and behold it’s one of the heavier chests that I’ve picked up in a while. 

“Shit what’s in this thing??” I Grunt out while we move it to a cart.

“The Girl says ‘mostly books’ as well as ‘sorry.’” Mont says, mocking her.

“Well those are two very important pieces of information, she can read, and well it seems, and she’s got humility.”  Mont laughs and we turn to watch the lady in waiting and my mother get over the family of prey. Two are picked up and likely taken to the altar to be given contractual jobs but one is left behind, she’s picked up and my mother exploded in laughter calling her simple and dainty, Mont and I just laugh at the image of the girl picked up as a pet. 

“Okay well I’ll tell you one thing Lemal.”

“And what is that?”

“I don’t envy you.”

“Neither does my mother, she dreads the very idea of her even being in the palace.”

“Oh i don’t even mean that, the thing writes all hours of the night when she’s stressed”

“Oh, well that makes two non-sleepers,” I begin to walk back into the palace. “Besides, if all goes well she won’t be stressed at all, just like a very spoiled pet, if anything.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Every one of those wife, pet things that I’ve ever met , and I’ve met the only two still alive, both were stressed all the fucking time, don’t kid yourself if you think she won’t die of it if not by one of us first.”

“Neither of those is happening. I’ll tell you why if you ask.” “...Okay, I’ll bite. Why?”

“I have a plan.”

“Oh do you?”

“Yes, now shut up. I’m gonna find every interest that she could ever be interested in and I’ll do everything that she wants. She wants cake, she’s got it, she wants books, she’s got it, she wants sex, well she’s more than got that.” 

Mont snickers, “your kidding yourself even more if you think that’s all women like-”

“I know that dumbass, but still. Whatever she wants is hers. I just want to say I tamed one of those prey critters and that will bring me fame and acolytes!” 

“More than being king?”

“Oh shut up. I’ve got a fitting to get to so why don’t you do some wine tasting for the both of us huh?”

“You don’t have to tell me twice, but that cake part of the plan’s gonna backfire.” 

“Oh please,” I said walking away, “who doesn't like a fat pet?!” 

Walking into the fitting room everyone begins to fuss at me again and I spend the next hour standing doing nothing so the seam cleaners can also do nothing because they did such a great job last time, all that’s left for me to do is to think really.

I couldn't get a good look at her before but her body was much smaller than I thought it would be. I could fit her in my hands with ease, probably balance her in just one hand. I’ll have to try later. She’s so small just a squeeze would pop her, speaking of that I turn a lot in my sleep, I’ll have to watch myself to make sure I don’t crush her. Maybe a wall of pillows? But I want her to be able to get to me. Don’t want to discourage any fun. How would that even work with her? Would they.. Fit? That’s a dirty thought. Thinking of other things, the kiss is going to be awkward at the actual ceremony, given her lack of a beak. How do prey kiss? Wait no, not prey, southern prey creatures, the… Pami! They have beaks… Small beaks but beaks. So… Compatu. Compatu Prey, how do they kiss? Guess I’ll have to ask her, but she might not know, if everything has gone well with her then she’ll never have done so before but here’s to hoping. I wonder- My father walks in, fumming.

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re brother, he’s being an idiot again. He got you into this and now wants to pull you out of this because he feels bad, can’t he grow a fucking wing bone already!?”

“Wait, he wants to marry her? Hell no, not now. Why even?”

“Can’t you hear, he ‘feels bad,’  pathetic.”

“Oh please just tell him I’m fine and he’ll get over it.”

“Well I-”

“I don’t even wanna hear this father, just tell him to shut his beak before he tries to pull a stunt like speaking out at the wedding itself and everything will be fine.” I begin to walk away.

“Oh if your brother so much as thinks of doing that!” He begins to scream down the hall that he entered through, “I’ll have his damn pelt lining my coat!!” 

Walking down the halls I hear a familiar voice going on and on about how “This pet creature is just not as much of a beauty as she would have hoped but she’ll have to do!”  So following mothers voice i find her titering on and on with my fiance's new Lady in waiting once again. Mother spots me through the curtains and begins to greet me before changing her mind. 

“Oh my- What are you doing here, you need to finish your fitting, hell i can still see a pin in your shoulder!”

“Oh that’s nothing mother i promise, oh- is that her?”

“Oh your majesty please, leave before your surprise is spoiled!”  The Lady goes on about surprises for a while.

“You act like I don't know I’m getting married my lady but it’s quite the contrary, I promise.”

“Oh, you boy, get out!” Mother puts her hand on my chest, lightly pushing me out of her little “conference room,” I chuckle at her efforts. Before lightly waving to my little bride with a now much clearer look at her. Light brown fur all over her face with white rings around her eyes, nose and mouth, and a small pink nose in the center. But best of all are those eyes, dazzling green eyes that spark her face to life but bring an awfully shy look to her face. So in summary, she’s the most damn adorable thing I’ve ever seen. 

I’m finally pushed out of my mothers room and for a moment I just stumble backwards, she’s just a delight to look at yet still I didn't see her in nearly the right conditions. I'll tell you what she looks like though, she looks right out of a painting. 

Yes, a painting of her surrounded by lovely flowers and berries and fruits, all of the greens of the stems and leaves bringing her eyes to the focal point, captivating and entrancing… I can’t wait to see her down that aisle, the light focused just on her, and she’ll be all for me. Fuck i can’t even handle the thought of that. What am I gonna do when I actually see it happen?

I bump into my brother. I hadn’t even realized I had been walking.

“Oh Lemal I am so sorry! Father won't let me undo my mistake and I really don’t want you to pay for my burden! Honest.”

“What? What burden?”

“Marrying that little thing, I'll tell you what I'll do, we switch places and I just kill it afterwards, and we forget the whole thing, it’ll be like nothing happened!”

I slam him against the wall, growling in his face, “If you even think of hurting her i’ll fucking dimeber you and you know that’s a promise.”  He shudders under my hands, “Understand?”

“Yes brother, I understand!”  His head nodds like his neck is broken and it will be if he doesnt stop being ridiculous. I let go of him.

He reaches for his neck, rubbing it, then his shoulder.

Together we walk into the chapel and we both take our places. He grabs my shoulder and turns me around to face him. “What do you-” He pulls the pins out of my suit, one on my shoulder, the second on my collar, the third somewhere on my chest, he puts each point end up into his pocket, practically doming himself to poke his fingers with the ends at least once when he goes to remove them. 

“Thank you.”

After a moment of thought he looks up at me, for the first time in a while I see him for what he is, a small teenager who has no clue what he’s to do with himself. A no one prince who’s trying his damndest for himself and his brother. I feel the impact of earlier finally reaching my hands and realizing how close I was to actually hurting him. “Are you sure about this? I’ll take her if you really want, not harming her at all, whatever you want, Lemal.”

“Don’t worry,” I pull his head into my chest, “I am… More than fine with this brother.” I want to add a thank you to the end of that but I can't for some reason. 

He breathes into me, “Good because if I do anything Father will actually kill me.”

We both chuckle at that. 

What the hell is taking so long?  It’s all I can think about, why is this taking so damn long. I can feel my tail feathers bouncing in anticipation, Cuss’s nervous energy has finally infected me, as I watch him over and over again click his thumb to his forefinger rapidly, actually no, not rapidly, only every second. So I quite literally have been counting the seconds that have passed that the wedding is supposed to have started by now. But people are still finding their seats, something that kills me. Just sit your asses down, it all you people ever do anyways, all hungry with only one chief in the kitchen i.e. ME.  I’ll strangle the person who sits in their seat last.

With that thought over, quite conveniently, the doors open, slowly but surely she’s revealed. 

Her image at first is comical, a wedding dress with huge shoulder puffs and white fabric covering her arms, the body of the dress being too long for her, she’ll appreciate some nice dresses later, I think. Her actual face and body though…On her little head two round and tiny ears poke through her hair, soft and lightly curled fizzing in just the most adorable way. Her little whiskers, which I couldn’t see in the dark of the last room, stand on end, the end of each being black. And finally those eyes again. For a moment I lose my posture and lose myself, she’s looking entirely at me, not just perceiving me, but staring at me, taking me all in. All her attention right where it belongs. I silently thank my brother for being the idiot he is. A fortune for a loss I suppose.

 She slowly climbs her way to the end of the aisle and as she gets closer the clearer I can hear her heartbeat but it kills me knowing how others can hear it too. She’s right in front of me when I decide to bend down and offer my hand to her. She takes a moment, breathing shallowly, looking at my hand and then right at me. Her eyes pierce me and for a moment I just wanna grab her, Just make others stop looking at her. And then she finally takes my hand. Despite what I would have guessed, the pads to her hands were rough, deeply callused and slightly scared from who knows what. But her fur itself is so soft, and funnily enough just a little bit damp still. 

The priest begins his little sermon but I can't be made to listen despite the absurdly loud volume of his voice. One point does get through to me. “This new age is paid in the blood and body of our newest queen!” I couldn’t have put that part better, it sounds so damn romantic, carnal. After all, every new age is paid for in the blood and bodies of those who bring it about. Then i realize something.  I didn’t even think to ask her fucking name, dumbass, dumbass, dumbass!! How many times were you around people who knew her name? Mont! Her Parents! Father! My Brother for fucks sake!  And then he says it. 

“Celica, do you take this man-” 

My breath hitches in my throat when he barely has finished the sentence and she shouts “YES!” Her voice is like honey.

Moments later I’m asked the same question and I answer with as romantic a voice I can muster and a deep nod. I stop listening again, stoop down to as low as I can get and rub my beak against her cheek, and when my beak is just past her hair I take a deep breath in to smell her, just as I wanted she was totally dosed in the same oils as me, so she smells woody with some mint, but what I wasn’t expecting was a hint of something other, her own smell. She smelled like berries and fresh earth, like morning dew. That moment alone convinced me to stop trying to make her smell like me and instead make myself smell like her. 

I spend the rest of the night promising to hold onto her, both so that i can get the delicious smell on me and also so i dont lose her or worse step on her hehe~ We skip out on the festivities, at first I try to ask her questions but she rarely seems to hear them which, given the sound of the music I couldn’t blame her for, so I am content with just her touch for now. 

When food started to come out, just as I had wanted, only the meats that I had hunted were served as roasts, pies, stews and soups and in almost every piece of food.

“Here my wife, eat.”  I push a bowl of some roast into her hands which she quickly tries to put down to my distress. 

“Please, I can’t.” She says very quickly.

I try again to get her to eat, “No i insist me dear-”

“Please don’t make me. I can’t.”

I finally let her put the bowl down with a quiet, “alright dear.” Though she did eat. A few courses later she began to eat small pieces of fruit, my favorite type as well. Rosen Berries, big meaty berries that fit snugly in my own hand, so I quickly cut some up for her while she sat in my lap and offered her the small pieces while I tore into the rest. In one instance I saw her just watching me eat, her eyes wide with wonder, likely at how I ate it.

Finally when the cake came around she ate a full slice, more than enough for her little body. But from the doorway came a loud pair of yelps, presumably from her parents as they were ordered to leave. I tried to tell the guards that they caused no harm being there but they only confirmed what I likely already knew, mother had ordered them out. They are terribly loud so I can’t blame her too much, but to just try and sweep them away, it made them look terribly rude, but even worse is that it caused my wife Celica to lounge out of my lap and onto the floor where she began to run on all fours. Incredibly unsightly but I can more than excuse it given this will likely be the last time she sees them. The guards tried to pull her off of them for a moment but I ordered them back so they could at least get in a half proper goodbye in. 

She jumps on her father and her mother jumps on them both in an embrace filled with more love than I could probably ever muster up. That’s something i'll need to work on for her. 

Her mother says something strange to her though, “Be so strong my love, I know you are.”  she holds onto her until I finally let the guards pick her up, to take her away to the carriage, where her husband went several minutes before her, where she also stops resisting and begins to cry. I feel terrible for Celica. 

I look down and see her sitting in the grass. I leave her there for a moment thinking for anything that might soothe her. And then an Idea strikes me. 

When I return I bare my offering of cake. Just after sitting, I picked out the most lovely piece left. 

“I brought you something my wife,”  she stares at it for a moment. “I know it’s hard, but it will get better, I promise.”

Finally she reaches for the plate, pulls it close to her and puts the bite into her beautiful mouth. I pull her close to me.

“Good girl Celica. There is hope yet, you need only look for it my darling.”

We sit there for a moment longer. Her head nuzzles into my side. 

“I promise to take care of you,” I whisper, “no harm, physical, mental or emotional shall befall you if I can do something about it. I promise.”

We spend the rest of the reception sitting on the grass watching the stars. 

We retire to our room late into the night, I hold her swaddled to my chest, and I realize I'm so tired I'll soon drop her if I don't focus enough. We enter our room and as soon as the door closes she leaps out of my arms face first into the bed, bum in the air. This greatly catches me off guard.

“Oh! Well someones eager! I can indulge-”

“No! No, I really don’t want to, I-I- I don't even know you, your highness!” 

“Oh, my mistake my dear,” I raise my hands to show I won't reach for her, “we move at your pace I promise.” 

I walk over to the cabinet to fetch some of my sleeping clothes, “Looks like when they moved my things they just moved the whole cabinet, very convenient. Speaking of convenience,” I walk over to her chest of things, “I had this moved here so you actually have something to wear my love, nothing to worry about. I’m going to change, if you don’t mind.” I swiftly head to the toilet room where when I close the door I hear her immediately jump from the bed, walk across the floor and open her chest and swiftly close it again. 

It doesn't take me long to get out of my clothes and into my night pants, and given the warm night and the possibility for great heat I skip out on the night shirt. When I walk out she just looks at me, “Like what you see darling?”  

She doesn't respond, instead saying, “No wonder the bed’s so big.” 

“Hmm, oh the wings! I’m glad you like them.”

“Hey… could I ask you to do something and you not act on what that action usually means?” 

“What do you mean Celica?”

She turned to show me her back. 

“Oh dear no, that’s what your lady in waiting is for, not if we're not going to have- You know, not consummate-”

She just stared for a moment before saying, “...Please?” 

“Uu- Well I-... Alright fine,” I gesture to the bed, “Hop on up Celica.” 

And she does just that, almost. Instead she smashes her face against the mattress side of the bed and no matter how hard I wish to stop myself I let out a loud crowing laugh that’s only muffled by slamming my beak shut, something that is only manually done. She glowers at me but I can’t stop myself. Before I’m done with my fit she gets a determined look on her face and she steps backward to attempt the same. I try to stop her as she’s clearly not a very good shot but when I nearly reach her she’s in the air between my arms and beak. 

She then looked back at me, back to me and said, “Just help me, please.”  and when I was done being impressed i did just that, pulling at the soft fabric of her dress until it was a mop on the floor. 

“Good riddance if you ask me.” 

I then started on pulling the corset laces free, inch by inch she breathed in more deeply, becoming just a little more accessible. Finally, I had her completely free of all string and she quickly took it upon herself to free herself of that corset all together, she then jumped to the other end of the bed, claiming it, before pulling off her underdress. I quickly averted my eyes but it wouldn’t have made a difference, she just as quickly pulled her night gown back on, but to be honest I couldn't help just admire her body for a moment longer. The dress was more like a shirt on her, leaving her legs almost completely bare, save for a strap of white lingerie that attached to her underwear, a nice treat any other time but right now only serving to tease. Her legs themselves were strong though, like she's been running since she was a babe which might very well be true. Her arms are much the same only now revealing small scares up and down each arm. But her coloring was the most interesting to me, a golden brown on the outer sides of her legs and arm but pure white on the insides of her thighs and presumably her belly and chest. 

And with that it was time to go to bed. 

“If we're not going to consummate tonight… I’m going to go to sleep. This’ll be probably the only night that I'll be able to go to bed, I’m not the best sleeper to be honest.” With that I pull down the main blanket and the hides and slip inside myself. Celica quickly follows suit. 

After a moment of her staring at me she turns to her other side and begins to fall asleep. It’s not long before sleep sweeps over me as well. 

I wake up in the very early hours of the morning, the birds are awake but the sun has yet to show itself. I look down and there is Celica, curled up in a ball right beside me. I look around for a moment and find a hide and slip it over her sleeping body and she untenses just a bit. For once it takes me no time at all to fall back to sleep with her wrapped in my arms.   

[obeythedemons]

Their Mask [Obey Me! Headcanons]

Obey Me! Masterlist

Intro:

I collect masks, so I thought I’d go through them and see which one of the ones I have would match them or would be their favorite. Poor quality photos with bad cropping below.

--

Lucifer

1. This mask is supposed to be from the Congo area. It’s supposed to have a lengthy bit of history, but it’s from an estate sale after the owner died - so I don’t know if it’s legit. But I can see that long history with a former owner(s) dying would make Lucifer interested in it.

Mammon

2. This is my first mask, so Mammon being the first pact it'd fit with him well. It also has bits of gold, which I think he'd like. The beak could be reminiscent of his crows.

Leviathan

3. It's a kitsune mask I got in Kyoto. The freaking otaku would eat it up. I also have a tengu mask, but I figured he'd like this one a bit more. This is also the first mask I got in Japan.

ASatan

1. Another estate sale find. This mask has two different faces, a happy and then an angry/sad face. It's a play on the drama masks, but it can also fit Satan's personality well. He tries to hide his wrath behind his gentleman persona, but his anger will switch. Both, I think, are just aspects of his personality.

Asmodeus

2. This is actually very small and wouldn't really even fit over my nose. Asmo doesn't want to hide his gorgeous face, so he would carry this around instead. It's delicate and cute, like him in a way.

Beelzebub

3. Lord of the ButterFlies. This is my most expensive mask, so I showed my gluttony and overindulged here. I can also see Beel liking insects, butterflies included. But just mentioning the butter in butterflies makes him hungry.

Belphegor

1. This one is a bit weird. Its colors match Belphie's pillow, but there's also some bits of paint that shine like stars. This mask is also odd in that it doesn't have any slots for eyes and it's shape is weird. Just like Belphie, this mask is a bit of an enigma.

Diavolo

2. The colors match Diavolo, there's some bits of glimmering gold. It sort of screams more royal than my other masks. But there are also bells on it that would indulge in Diavolo's more playful nature.

Barbatos

3. The mask is a bit simple at first, but then you'll notice how the bits of the mask twirls in different ways. Then, you'll realize that it's actually a metal mask and is stronger than most of my other masks that can easily break.

Luke

1. The mask is simple and a bit pure, something that Luke appreciates. He likes that the mask looks like it has some fresh snow on it. It's nothing flashy, he doesn't care too much for that kind of stuff.

Simeon

2. Unlike Luke, Simeon does enjoy some more flashy bits. He likes the colors blue and gold together. The gem at the top where the feathers sprout out remind him of the Celestial Realm.

Solomon

3. Solomon would probably think this masks reflects humanity well. Humanity is a bit of a blank slate that can fall victim to both light and dark. A balance is needed in order to survive. It's something he knows within himself and it's something he knows that needs to be true for the three realms to survive.

[chrysalispen]

Prompt #9 - Yawn

AO3 LINK HERE

Fill under cut.

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

Midsummer in Gyr Abania was hotter than the ashy rim of Ifrit's arsehole, especially in late afternoon when the heat waves were actually visible in shimmering sheets from the salt flats, but for the first time since they'd arrived in the fringes the perpetually miserable summer weather was the farthest thing from Wedge's mind. 

The greatest minds of the Garlond Ironworks stood at the lip of a canyon the locals called the Yawn in bewildered silence. There was some degree of bemusement writ large on every face in their little congregation as they all stared into the decidedly suspicious-looking violet morass below. Even the Chief seemed to be at a loss.

"Well, um," the Warrior of Light said to no one in particular, "that just happened."

She didn't seem to have expected an answer. It was just one of those declaratory statements that didn't really have a response, Wedge decided. But he didn't want her to feel awkward so when he caught her eye he made sure to offer a sage nod. 

She wasn't wrong, after all. It was, in fact, a thing, and that thing had certainly just happened. Was continuing to happen, as much as they all wished it would stop happening.

Besides, Wedge liked Miss Aurelia. World-famous hero (heroine?) or not, Garlean or not, she was friendly, gentle, and quick-witted. Rather reminded him of the Chief, really. Her returning smile and nod made him grateful; at least it was something to take his mind off of-

"Midgardsormr," Nero tol Scaeva was saying, shaking his head incredulously at her. "You know the Father of Dragons himself."

"Yes."

"Last I knew what was left of him was wrapped around that blasted shipwreck in the lake."

"That's also him. It's- listen, it's a long story and we don't really have time to explain. Can we just-"

"Kweh!" said the... 

What was it, anyway? Some sort of... construct?

Wedge squinted at it. Brave little bugger, whatever it was. Didn't seem like a bad sort. Even if it had just come popping out of nowhere along with that rainbow dragon... thing. Dragon-thing.

"What is that?" Nero said, brows furrowed. 

Wedge didn't like Nero. He was always looking for some reason to insult the Chief, and he'd been working for the Black Wolf until recently which wasn't exactly a point in his favor. But the Chief was playing nice, and if Miss Aurelia thought he meant them harm she'd have done something about him already. So Wedge decided he was going to be civil too. For now.

Ignoring Nero for now, Wedge knelt down in front of the little yellow creature. Its head, almost comically oversized for its short, squat body, tilted this way and that, a question in its large blue eyes. 

"Kweh?" it chirped. 

"It's a construct!" Wedge said. "A robot!"

Its chin and feathers sagged as one, as if he'd just called it something unmentionable.

"....maybe a chocobo?"

"Kweh!" the robot... chocobo answered, with a small and cheerful hop. Biggs shook his head.

"That doesn't look like any chocobo I've ever seen," he said. 

"What? He's yellow and he's got the beak and feathers and all, hasn't he? And he kwehs, doesn't he? Maybe he's just... some unknown species or something. Or maybe even the first of his kind! We could call him Alpha!"

Nero pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"A chocobo that sprang fully formed from the same purple primordial soup as another construct that would have eaten us whole if it had taken a corporeal form. You'll pardon me if I seem somewhat doubtful it’s what it appears to be."

"If it kwehs like a chocobo it's a chocobo. That's what I think."

Wedge folded his arms as if the matter was solved and discussion ended. Nero shrugged.

"As you like," he said. "It's a chocobo, then. A unique species worthy of further study." "I agree. We should-"

"We should dissect it and examine its absurdly enlarged head," Nero continued. "For science."

"What- you are not dissecting Alpha!" Wedge scowled at the Garlean as fiercely as a three fulm-six ilm tall Lalafell could manage. "And his head is just fine the way it is!"

Alpha squinted at Nero, made a displeased wark, and fluffed its bright yellow feathers.

At almost that precise moment, the Warrior of Light rolled up her handful of hunt-mark bills, stood on her tiptoes, and with a long-suffering sigh whapped Nero tol Scaeva upside the head.

“Ow!!” 

[starxscream]

Color-Coded Deck

“ Once again Rouxls challenges Swatch to a battle of wits- though this time it doesn't exactly go as planned. “

SwatchKaard fic!

Bc I saw that there were none and so I had to do smth about it, click the read more to view! (Also check it out on ao3 if it’s easier for y’all to read there!

It had been another long day at the cafe, working various loud-mouthed customers that seemed never ending in Castle Town.  Swatch has to wonder if moving out here was worth it, putting up with some of the patrons here almost made it not.  The bird sighs, making the final rounds while the swatchlings finish cleaning up for the night.  As the final chores and tasks are completed, Swatch excuses the swatchlings to head home and rest for tomorrow, staying behind to finish up the managerial paperwork.  There was always more work to do, and Swatch had no time to rest until it was completed.  Such was life.  The same routine that they were so accustomed to, it didn't truly bother them really.  In fact, Swatch enjoyed the brief moment of quiet and privacy of being alone in the cafe.

As the last swatchling exits, Swatch double checks the store before meandering towards to flip the sign from "open" to "closed".  However, as they move to flip the sign, there's a glowing flash of light, causing Swatch to lift his arm to block out the glare before it dissipates.  Oh no.  A feeling of knowing dread nestles in their gut.

Before Swatch can react, a blue hand rattles the door, pushing it against Swatch who had finally moved to try and hold it shut.  Of COURSE it just had to be him…

A loud shrill voice echoes through the crack in the door, "Greetings thou most commonest worm-avian! I haveth decided to graceth thine nighteth with thy presence!" Swatch inwardly groans, releasing the door and taking a step back to allow the other to dramatically swing it open and saunter through the now open doorway.

Rouxls Kaard.

Truly, could Swatch ever catch a break?

"What might you be doing here Kaard? Need I remind you that you have been banned from the premises."  Swatch crosses their arms across their chest, false niceties dripping off of their voice, trying not to let their impatience shine through.

Rouxls tuts, wagging a finger in the air, "That waseth at thou previousth establishmente, whiche waseth the highesteth forme of slandereth I haveth ever been subjectedeth too mindeth thou, howevereth, I haveth not been bannedeth here! So thy musteth allowth my graciouse presence to be bestowedeth upon thy grounds." A smug look sits on his face, chest puffed out proudly, 'sneakily' gesturing to the sign that was still flipped to "open".

Swatch resists rolling his eyes, a part of them wondering if Rouxls even knew the cafe's hours...probably not.  Though they supposed Rouxls was right, he had not been banned from this cafe.  Maybe he would be within the upcoming days, it was inevitable really, but for now he wasn't and Swatch was left with their hands full.  With a sigh, they consider trying to explain that to Rouxls, but they figure that Rouxls wouldn't listen to that...whenever the self acclaimed "duke of puzzles" set his mind on something there was no way to get him to listen to anything else.  Swatch knew that firsthand.

"Well, here you are then...arriving just as I was closing.  What can I do for you Kaard?" Swatch keeps it simple, but not without a small jab, moving his arms behind his back, standing straight with his beak perked up just slightly.  A mixture of professionalism and their own pettiness that made them want to show off how much better he was, especially around Rouxls.  They wouldn't admit it, but they did enjoy the competition that Rouxls consistently brought to their doorstep…that is, if you could call it a competition.

Grin widening, Rouxls whips out a foreign deck of cards, sauntering past Swatch, and slamming it down onto a nearby table.  Then he spins on his heel to face Swatch once again, face nearly splitting into two with how wide his grin was, and threads his fingers together.  Swatch raises a single eyebrow, gaze looking over the strange deck of cards, before looking back at Rouxls, awaiting whatever long-winded explanation that was about to be given.

“I have cometh to challengeth thee to a duelth of wits!” Rouxls makes a grand gesture towards the table, "Thoust three heroes bestowedeth upon thy a gift,” Meaning, Rouxls probably whined until they gave it to him, “A supremeth gifte thou shalt not be wastedeth!  I shall knocketh thou offeth thine pedestalth like a batteringeth rame knockingeth downeth thy castle doorsth! ” He motions for Swatch to sit down at one end of the table, waiting expectantly with shining eyes.  Swatch opts not to say that a battering ram knocks open doors and not off, but that was their petty side talking.

Inhaling deeply, Swatch slowly moves over to the seat, placing a hand on the seat and pulling it out.  Sure the polite thing to do was pull the seat out for Rouxls- as was their job, but they were not going to give Rouxls that satisfaction.  His eyes bore into Rouxls, half expecting the guy to pull out another handful of worms and run off, but he seemed much too invested in the task at hand.  Always with the games and puzzles that one, truly Swatch had to wonder how many times would Rouxls have to lose before he gives up?

“I foughte againsteth thy three heroes valiantlyth, takingeth thou on in thine own gameth.  Sucheth a nobleth duty of thy to do, no?” Rouxls laughs, swiftlying moving to the seat across from Swatch, “Twas a longe and arduousth battle of brainse, and beingeth thy generouse and benevolenteth soul thy am, could not beareth to standeth thy thoughte of thrashingeth thine darling water-beetle’s closesteth allies.  So I humbledeth thyself and allowedeth thine three hereos to besteth thy in battleth unscathedeth to spareth thine ailsth.”  Meaning, Rouxls utterly lost.

“So you...‘valiantly’ turned tail and came crawling to me instead?” Swatch lets out a quiet scoff, unable to keep it contained at Rouxls’ blatant attempt to save face when anyone who knew Rouxls would know better than to believe the theatrics he was spouting.  Easing himself into the chair, Swatch crosses his arms across his chest, “Alright then, I can spare a moment on your childish games.  Would you care to explain the rules of the game you have so dutifully brought to my doorstep while I was trying to close up shop for the night?  I would like to get this over with so that I may go home.”

Rouxls’ eyes narrow at Swatch, dramatically pointing across the table over at the bird, “Thou do not intimidateth me worm-avian!” Rouxls huffs, “Our battleth will be througheth the mighty gameth of what thy lightenereths call “Uno”!  Whereupon thy willeth finally proveth my titleth of butler supremeth over thy worm-avian!”  His point moves towards the deck, “Draweth foulest beast!”

Swatch makes no indication of moving, “I cannot draw if I do not know how to play, or are you resorting to needing unfair advantages to win?  Truly, I expected more from you...” The bird trails off, feigning a sigh, watching Rouxls’ face light up in a vibrant embarrassed flush.  He was so easy to read...it was kind of amusing really.  A small smirk etches onto Swatch’s face at the sight.

“Of couseth not! I wouldeth never bringeth thy illesteth omens upon thy nameth!  I haveth no need for sucheth ‘advantages’, thy willeth win no mattereth the circumstanceseth of oureth battleth as thy am thy grand duke of puzzles!”  Rouxls covers for his mistake quickly, moving to cover the back of his hand with his mouth, “As for thine rules…” He hesitates for a moment, thinking, “I...shalt not wasteth my time explaining! Thereth is rule cardeths for a reason!” The irony…  Rouxls paws at the deck, pulling out the card with the written words littered over its surface, before sliding it towards Swatch.

“Make haste! I do not haveth all nighte.” Rouxls puffs out his chest, arrogance dripping from his voice.  Swatch gives Rouxls a cold glare at his words, a part of them still bitter they were the one being kept up this fine night.  Quickly Swatch skims over the rules of this ‘Uno’ game, a simple color and symbol type of card game- first to get rid of all the cards in their hands wins.  Easy enough.

“Alright, daresay I believe that I am ready now.”  Swatch carefully sets the card back down on the table, reaching over to draw seven cards off of the top of the deck.  There was a wide arrangement of colors, mostly blue ironically, and a couple of special cards with effects that they would need to play strategically.  After Swatch draws his cards, Rouxls quickly follows suit, flipping over the top card to reveal a green number card to begin the game.

“With thy graciouseth self, I shalt allow thee to make thy first moveth!” Rouxls confidently announces, leaning forward with a tight grip on his cards.  Swatch rolls his eyes again, looking over his hand and rubbing the bottom of his beak with his free hand.  Then, without a word he places another green number card on top of the discard pile, a simple play to begin with.

The game continues on like this for a few rounds, with every turn Rouxls announcing how great he was or how he was going to win and Swatch shooting back with some sort of rebuttal that only served to fluster and make Rouxls even more agitated.  Swatch isn’t sure why he liked poking at Rouxls as much as he did, truly Rouxls was the only one who managed to consistently break through his customer service facade.

It was...nice Swatch supposed.  As idiotic as Rouxls was and his constant pestering to try and best Swatch, it was nice.  A break in an otherwise methodical and boring day.  As much as Swatch hated to admit it, they had grown to have fun playing with Rouxls.

However, the peaceful part of the game soon came to an end when Swatch placed down a draw two card onto the discard pile as Rouxls hand seemed to lessen with every turn, complete with the biggest smirk on their face.

“Now, if you could please draw, I can make my next move.”  The bird hums, watching in curiosity as Rouxls sputters, slamming his hands on the table.

“Whateth is this sorceryeth!?” Rouxls glares at the cards as if they were the ones at fault, “Why musteth I loseth my turne? Draweth two!?” He huffs indignantly, Swatch raising an eyebrow.

“...You read the rules too, didn’t you Kaard? Being the ‘grand duke of puzzles’ yourself, surely you know about the special cards, right?” Their voice drips with faux sympathy, sounding more condescending than nice, Swatch stifling a chuckle at the sudden turn of events.

The rule card sits open on the table, Rouxls glancing between it and Swatch with a growing scowl on his face.

“Of courseth I know thy rules! I haveth bestedeth the most strongesteth beings in thy battleth of Uno!” Rouxls mind whirs in thought, “Thy justeth...won so quickly thateth card nevereth neededeth to be usedeth!” With a burning embarrassed flush once against rising to his face, Rouxls quickly covers his own ineptitude at the game, having bitterly come here after losing to the three heroes to try and best Swatch once again to try and lick his wounds.  

Rouxls snatches the rule card after that, Swatch covering his mouth as they let out a snicker while Rouxls quickly skims through it.  After a few moments, Rouxls throws the card back down, once again puffing out his chest.

"I shalt do this draweth two as thou cards stateth, but feareth not! Thy shalt stille remaineth victoriouse in the endth!" Rouxls swipes at the deck, a little frustrated if Swatch had to guess, gripping the cards in his hand even tighter.

Frustration of the evening having long since melted into amusement, Swatch rests an elbow onto the table to use his hand to keep his head propped up as he continues to play.  Carefully setting another card onto the pile, Rouxls following suit a little too fast.

"I am afraid that this little game will end how it always does, though, I suppose that is why you challenged me after everyone left.  Couldn't bear to take the bitter taste of defeat in the face of the public again, could you?" Swatch begins to idly speak, deciding to make some conversation even if it sounded more like he was targeting Rouxls.  Truthfully they just wanted to see how the man would react, it was always so entertaining to see Rouxls theatrics in action when he wasn't purposefully being a thorn in your side, and Swatch found it more amusing than they should.

Rouxls laughs haughtily, gaze focused onto his cards as he keeps playing, "Fool! I wouldeth happily beeneth a target for thine adoringeth publice, howevereth I waseth ever so busyeth with thy duties of greateth importanceth that I hadeth to scavengeth thine timeth to graceth thee withe thy prescenceth.  Thou shouldeth be gratefule thy oh-so busyeth scheduleth allowede it!"  Truthfully he had been lurking around the outside of the cafe for hours, procrastinating and planning out his "grand entrance" until the store had reached closing.  So alas, here they were.  Sure the patronizing laughter when Rouxls had lost prior bothered him but there was no way he was going to let Swatch be right!

"Ah yes, lucky me." Swatch deadpans, smirk still hanging on their beak, "I cannot imagine how else I would like to be spending my evening.  Why would I want to be relaxing at home after a long day of work when I could be playing a silly card game with you?"  The chirp, sarcasm edging in their words.

"Tsk tsk, thee are justeth afraide of losingeth.  Thou can admite it!"  Rouxls slams another card down.  "For I shall  sooneth claime thy victory in oneth fell swoopeth, prepare thyself worm-avian!"

Swatch scoffs, "Afraid of losing to you? My apologies Kaard, but something actually has to be a reality for me to be scared of it." Rouxls, childishly, sticks out his tongue.  He would not claim it to be childish if you called it out, however.

Setting his own card down, Swatch calls out 'Uno', holding his single card in his grasp.  Meanwhile Rouxl still had multiple cards left, there was no chance of him winning.

Yet somehow, Rouxls hadn't started throwing a fit yet.  Usually when it was clear he was to lose, he would get even more rambunctious than usual- yet this time Rouxls still had his cocky grin, staring at his cards.  Swatch's smirk fades, eyes narrowing, knowing that the other man was up to something.  Of course it wasn't a normal card game, this was Rouxls, something unexpected always happens with him around.

The bird tenses, awaiting the surprise bound to happen.  Rouxls grin gets wider, before he cackles wildly, "Aha! Thou hasn't madeth thine finale moveth! I, Rouxls Kaard, shalt noweth claime thy victory!" Swatch's eyebrows furrowed together, there was no possible way-

Rouxls slams down a red skip card atop the red number card.

Swatch skips his turn, Rouxls putting down a red draw two card- causing Swatch to skip his turn again.  He hesitantly reaches over to draw two cards.

There's no way…

Rouxls tosses down another draw two card, this time in green.  Swatch's grip on his cards get ever tighter as they stare at the pile of discarded cards.

"I dareth say this is wheneth thy say 'Uno'!" Rouxls says triumphantly, Swatch's gaze snapping up in disbelief.  Their beak opens and shuts again, dragging two more cards off of the deck.

"Sayeth thou prayers worm-avian! For tonighte, I reigneth victoriouse!" Swatch watches Rouxls dramatically leap from his seat, pushing the chair back, and slamming down his final card with all the energy in his being.

The card was to choose your own color and draw four cards.  The biggest insult to injury that the game of Uno could give.

Swatch stares in utter shock- he had...actually lost.  Rouxls had actually made a good play and won the game.  Rouxls Kaard did.  The guy who could barely craft a feasible puzzle on his own- outwitting them of all people.  It was an impossibility, and yet, here it was staring Swatch in the face.

Amidst the frustration of losing, Swatch couldn't help but feel...impressed.  That is, until Rouxls starts speaking again.

"There!! Noweth thou see thine wretchedeth worm-avian! Thy am superiore to thou inst everyeth way!  Everytimeth before noweth has beeneth nothing moreth than a fluketh!  For this is thy proveth!  I am trulye bettereth than thou!" He laughs loudly, kicking a foot onto the chair seat and propping himself up into a pose with one hand on his hip and one covering his laughter. "Henceforth thou shalt bowe downeth and call me butler supremethe, thy grand duke of puzzles- Rouxls Kaard!"  A pause in his triumph, looking over at Swatch, " ...Thou hearest me lesser worm-avian?"

Swatch sets down his card, controlled, carefully.  Rouxls boasting makes the guy much less impressive and instead Swatch simmers into annoyance and frustration.  Rouxls got lucky.  And Swatch was never going to hear the end of it.  A scowl breaks his beak in half as he stands stiffly upright, keeping it shut to not say anything without thinking it through first.  Every motion was so strictly controlled, his thoughts whirling around and around until-

Swatch was never going to hear the end of it...unless…

They get an idea, sure it was going to be demeaning and incredibly out of poor taste in Swatch's opinion- but it would be better than anyone finding out about their loss to Rouxls.  Besides, after working for the Queen, demeaning had lost its meaning to Swatch.  At least this time they were going to be the one in control.  So a distraction, enough embarrassment so where Rouxls never wants to talk about this moment to anyone.

Swatch steps out from the table, moving over towards the side Rouxls was on, who merely stared at them in confusion.

Abruptly in one smooth motion, Swatch bows to Rouxls, who they can hear sputter in surprise.  A pleased grin appears on Swatch's beak, hidden from sight.

"I surely hope that will suffice, butler supreme.  You are truly the duke of puzzles, Sir Rouxls Kaard, unmatched in his fantastical puzzle prowess." Swatch pulls himself upright, feeling the grating feeling of forced praise and ridiculous titles being pulled from his throat.  However, the look on Rouxls face was worth it- the bug-eyed look of pure shock combined with the fact his cocky smirk had been replaced with a nervous smile- all the while his face seemed to be a darker blue than usual.  Oh this was worth it.

"Uh...Yes!  Thou is correcteth and shouldeth now understande thou place beneatheth me! I maketh the ordereth now worm-avian, thou can no longere banneth thy from thou fineth establishmente and musteth admiteth always thateth thy am forevere bettereth than thou! Lest thou suffereth thy crippling humilationeth of thou defeate once moreth." Stepping off of the chair, Rouxls manages to get out, his voice wavering at the start- a crack in his carefully portrayed persona.  Startled by how...well Swatch was taking it- he had expected him to get mad or bite back or just...something.  This wasn't like their usual banter at all and Rouxls wasn't sure what was going on.

Swatch listens intently, nodding along to show that they were listening.  Even if they, personally, thought it to be pure nonsense, they did not let it show.

Their head so carefully tilts to the side for a moment, "Beneath you?" They coo, taking a calculated step forward into Rouxls space.

An arm casually snakes around Rouxls waist, pulling the smaller man closer.  He lets out a surprise squeak- trying to stammer out something before he is shushed by Swatch's next words, "Would you not prefer to be side by side? After all, you have proven yourself to be better than I- your chosen adversary since the day we met." He chuckles, "With how obsessed you are with me, dare I say you were trying to court me- hm?" A soft chuckle lingers on his lips as he watches Rouxls nearly melt out of pure flustered nerves.

It was…

Hm. Cute. For Rouxls.

"WHAT? I AM NOT-" Rouxls gasps, much louder than intended, his smarmy accent seemingly fading for a moment before he gulps for a breath trying to readjust himself, "Do not thinketh so highly of thouself! I couldeth care lesse abouteth thou, thy games were merelyeth a simpleth pastime, a pleasureth that thy bestowedeth upon thou!"

Leaning ever so closer to Rouxls, Swatch's voice lowers, a quiet coo for Rouxls' ears only, "Then why is it you always throw a fit when I'm too busy to play with you?  You claim to just want to prove you're better than me, but you've done that now, so what next? Honestly, Rouxls, just spare us the trouble and tell me how you really feel."

A hum.

"If you just wanted to go on dates you could have simply asked." It's said with a wink.

Rouxls chokes, and Swatch thinks they finally have this under control, soon to be wrapped up in a nice pretty bow.  Sure was this a little cruel? Perhaps, but Swatch kept finding it so damn endearing, it was frustrating.  So selfishly wanting to see more of Rouxls' reactions.

But of course, this was Rouxls Kaard they were talking about here.  When did anything involving him go as planned?

Suddenly there are hands grabbing the side of their head, and Swatch can feel his feathers poof out in surprise at the sudden motion.  Before they can react, Rouxls practically slams his forehead into Swatch's, keeping it there and pressing hard as if to challenge the bird.

"Thou sauveth trickery shalt not wortheth on I!" Rouxls announces, before adding his own rebuttal, "Maybe THOU is thee one courting I? Thou claim to be bettereth than I but hereth you stand, arm arounde thy waist.  If thou really haveth better thingeths to do, theneth why are thou hereth and noteth at thou homestead?" 

The two were impossibly close now, pressed together as a different kind of tension fills the air around them.  Swatch can feel Rouxls panting shaky breaths on his beak, the man's false confidence easily seen through, yet- Swatch stutters.  And they never stutter.

Then suddenly- his arms are empty and the simple touch is gone as soon as it had started, and Swatch let out a breath they hadn't realized they had been holding.

"Alas, I am sureth thy leech of a darlingeth prince needs thy attentione!" Rouxls skitters towards the door, "I bideth thee a bittersweet adieu! For now thee willeth be without thine majestic presenceth, whicheth I am sureth you shalt miss.  However, I must informeth thou that I, Rouxls Kaard, willeth not be easily impressedeth with thy simplest flatteries..." He pauses in his escape, looking back at Swatch before glancing down at the floor looking a little...unsure, adding on just a little quieter, "But I shalt be backe, I may haveth won thy battle, but not thy war- so...uh...prepareth thouself for thy return!"

With his final words, which were possibly just an excuse to keep seeing Swatch even though he's already gotten his win, Rouxls escapes through the door and flees faster than Swatch had ever seen him move before.  The bird just...watches him go, dumbfounded at the sudden turn of events.

Swatch stands there for a moment, blinking, wondering if that even just happened.  Rouxls rebuttal swirling around in his brain, them? Courting Rouxls?  A ridiculous assumption, entirely out of left field.  And yet…

Swatch sighs, smoothing down his ruffled feathers, Rouxls was right- if Swatch wanted to they could have easily booted out the nuisance and went home.  Yet, Swatch played Rouxls game.  And every game before.  The bird’s fingers flex, still feeling the faint ghost of Rouxls in his grip, as if it were haunting them- taunting them really.

…

Swatch rubs his face with a hand, a flush rising to his cheeks.  This whole time they had thought they were the one in control, but unfortunately they had long gotten swept up in the uncontrollable whirlwind that was Rouxls Kaard.

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

3 Oct. Suptober: Rainbows

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

s15 au; deancas

In hindsight, Cas was preoccupied, not only by the task at hand but by the person he was undertaking it on behalf of, which was likely why he didn't realize he had company in the bunker kitchen until Sam said, "Hey, Cas," and Cas almost fumbled the glass into the sink. 

"Oof, sorry," Sam rushed to say next. 

His expression was a variety of things, none of which Cas clocked as fundamentally apologetic while he refilled the glass. 

Sam cleared his throat. "Whatcha doing?"

Cas squinted at him. Maybe Sam was drunk, or ill. "Just getting a drink of water." He left the statement there; Sam had seen him consume water before.

Sam fidgeted with the hem of his t-shirt and did not look at Cas. "Sure. You." He made some kind of gesture with his hands that did not seem relevant to anything. "You seen Dean lately?"

"He's asleep," Cas offered, since he knew it to be correct.

"In his room?" Sam's voice cracked on the second word.

Cas drew out the word 'yes' into something of a question. What was Sam looking at on the ceiling anyway?

"His room. Which. You just left?" Sam bounced on the balls of his feet for a second.

Cas looked around for intruders, hex bags, strange fogs, spooky auras, blood stains, a bucket of empty beer cans -- something that might explain why Sam was speaking like someone who'd just learned English. 

"Yes, Dean's room." 

Cas suppressed a smile that wanted to surface as his thoughts quickly flitted to Dean -- Dean curled boneless beneath a body-warmed blanket, his eyelashes fanned dark against the tops of his freckled cheeks -- and back again. He sat the glass in the sink and stepped toward Sam carefully.

"Uh huh. Okay." Sam took a step backwards. His line of sight popped back up to the light fixture. "Wearing. ...What it is you're wearing?

Cas glanced down past his bare chest to the flannel covering his legs. "Pajamas?"

Sam nodded a series of tight little nods, like an invisible puppeteer controlling him was getting restless. "Okay. Okay. And Dean is." He didn't trail off as much as seem to run out of ideas for the rest of the sentence.

"Asleep," Cas reminded him. 

Another Sam nod. "Right." 

"He tends to fall asleep for a while within thirty or so minutes after we--"

"Dude," Sam said. 

Understanding clicked into place. "Ah. I apologize, Sam," Cas said, with a small sinking sensation in his stomach. "I did assume Dean had told you." 

He was leaving out some words, and he didn't mean to play coy; it just seemed like perhaps Sam would prefer fewer details over more with regards to -- how to say diplomatically? -- recent developments.

"Dean tell me? Really?" Sam stared at him directly for the first time the whole encounter. His pupils were big black dots reminiscent of the ones he'd had when they were all cartoons for a while.

"No." Cas paused. "But I did think maybe you just knew." 

An honest confession, since Sam, a skilled hunter with decades of experience beneath his proverbial belt, was often quite good at discerning patterns beneath the surface of verbal communication. Cas had not always been as certain of his own feelings as he was in the present. Indeed, it had taken years for what he felt for Dean -- unfamiliar, prismatic impulses occasionally strong enough to almost bring Cas to his knees -- to coagulate into something fierce and unshakeable that could in part be described in words, much less translatable to more tangible actions. Just because Cas had been slow to realize the depths of his own emotions didn't mean Sam had been.

Except.

Sam's eyebrows jumped into his hairline like worms fleeing chicken beaks. 

"What," he choked out. "Why. No. How would I have known about--" He was flinging his hands around again. "--This?" The hands flew toward Cas like Sam was casting a spell at him. "You are like my brother."

"Um," Cas said.

"And Dean is my brother."

"Uh--"

"And I have literally heard him refer to you as our brother."

"Right.”

"Like, we're all brothers here." Sam gave a helpless chuff of laughter.

"Okay."

"So you understand," Sam continued, "why I might be concerned that my two brothers are apparently sleeping together." The volume of his voice went lower in direct counter to its pitch by the end of the sentence.

Cas chose not to comment on this, nor on the shadow that lurked in the doorway and then dissipated. He said instead, "I don't really sleep all that much, but I take your point."

Sam buried his face in the palms of his hands. 

"I'm." Cas swallowed. He stood a bit taller, the way a soldier might when either respectfully yielding to an enemy or accepting that opponent's surrender -- not that Sam was a villain here. "I'm sorry you found out this way, Sam."

"It's." Sam took a deep breath, then coughed once. "You don't have to apologize."

"Sam, could you... There is nothing on the ceiling that could be that interesting."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Sam spoke like he meant it, or at least wanted to mean it.

Cas let out an inward sigh of relief. "All right."

"The stress," Sam said. "What we do. Monsters. Apocalypses, plural. It's-- I know it's a lot." Now he had slipped into hunter wrangler mode, all rallying the troops and leftover law school pragmatism. "And I can see how the two of you might, you know, need to blow off some steam. Sometimes."

"Sam--"

"Dean always does get a little antsy when he goes a while without." Sam shook his head like he'd realized this was absolutely not a topic he wanted to think about. "You know."

"Sam," Cas said sharply.

"I'll stop talking now."

"I'm in love with your brother, Sam." Those truest words were spoken so easily that once upon a time it might have bothered Cas; in the present, it assuredly did not. He let Sam gape for a moment and then softened the statement with, "It's not just a casual, friends with insurance sort of thing for me. For the record. If that helps."

Sam looked like the human equivalent of the little tri-colored beachball that would spin and spin onscreen when one of his computer tablets got overwhelmed. Finally, his eyes cleared. "All right." His mouth quirked. "The phrase is 'friends with benefits.'" 

Cas blinked. "Insurance is often a benefit extended to citizens in the United States, isn't it?"

"Less often than's helpful," Sam said.

Cas nodded. The two of them stood there by the sink, not really looking at each other. A thought came to Cas.

"I love you too--"

"Dude," Sam said.

Cas held up a hand. "--But I'm not in love with you." This distinction was one that had taken him a long time to understand; it seemed worth sharing.

The ceiling had recaptured Sam's fascination, but he was smiling when he said, "I know." He clapped Cas on the shoulder. "I love you too."

Cas returned the smile. "You, and Dean, and Jack -- you are all my family."

"Yeah." Sam ducked his head, as if pleased. "Yeah, I know."

Cas picked the glass of water up out of the sink. He raised it to Sam in a small toast. "Okay. I'm going to go back to Dean's room now."

"'Night, Cas."

Cas padded back down the hallway, opened Dean's squeaky door, and crept inside the room. The bedside lamp had been turned on. He watched the blanketed lump in the middle of the mattress for movement before asking quietly, "How much of that did you hear?"

"Most of it." Dean sat up and yawned. He scratched at the side of his head where his hair was sticking out. The blanket puddled below his pelvis. Cas glanced away like he hadn't personally and enthusiastically pressed those hipbones into the mattress less than an hour before.

When Cas walked around and put a knee on the bed, Dean said, "I also wanted water."

Cas bumped his arm with the glass. "This is for you."

"Oh," Dean said, taking it from him. "Thanks."

"Because I don't drink all that much water."

"Right."

"Because I don't sweat as much as you do."

"Hmm. You sweat some," Dean said, a hint of slyness in his tone. He leaned away to leave the water glass on the bedside table.

Cas sat on the edge of the mattress and let Dean scoot up to him. "Are you bragging about making me sweat?"

"Mmm," Dean said, splaying his hand over Cas's clavicle. 

"You should probably talk to Sam in the morning."

"This is the morning."

"Later, then."

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's waist like he owned the span of it. "Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Maybe you could just--

"Nooo." 

A sharpness tapped underneath Cas's ribcage, an angel blade's point pressed with deliberate aim. It took a minute before he could speak. He gathered his courage. "If you want to stop--"

"No." The word fell from Dean like Cas had knocked it out with his fist. His eyes were fever bright and anguished, and another, better ache flooded Cas's chest at the sight. "No."

"I am very much in love with you." Cas took a breath. "Sam's reaction, I know, wasn't entirely out of nowhere." 

Dean tipped his forehead to Cas's. "I don't think he was objecting so much as he was surprised--"

"I'm only saying, I have thought of you both as my brothers, at various times in the past." Cas studied, not for the first time, a collection of freckles on Dean's shoulder. "I still think of Sam as a brother, in a way. He may not be incorrect that the situation, as it has evolved, is something a bit… Atypical." He considered a further implication. "And each of us is one of Jack's dads."

Dean huffed, a bluff since his fingertips were memorizing Cas's vertebrae like he planned to sketch them later. "Well. We can't all be the goddamn Waltons, or whoever."

Cas agreed, "We definitely do not live on a farm." He let himself sway toward the ardent way Dean was looking at him. "It might be nice to live on a farm, with cows and ducks, maybe some sheep--"

"And I am very much in love with you too," Dean said softly. He pressed his lips to Cas's cheek.

"Yeah?" Cas's eyes felt hot.

"Yep."

Cas thought to say, "You know, Sam is exactly who you raised him to be: a good man."

At that, Dean squeezed his eyes shut. "New rule," he said hoarsely after several seconds. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. "We cannot talk about Sam, like. When we're not even dressed."

Cas stretched out his right leg and wiggled his foot. "I have on these pajamas pants. Can no-one else see them? They're covered in so many things."

This was an understatement. Technically, the pattern contained no less than the following items: rainbows, unicorns, blue whales, yellow stars, shield-wielding pugs, and anti-whale flags, whatever and why-ever those were. Put simply, the pajama pattern was like an indecipherable code of images that seemed to illustrate the illicit drug use of the manufacturer's designer.

With his finger, Dean traced the outline of one of the rainbows arced on Cas's knee. "Is it weird that rainbows remind me of you?"

Cas thumbed a spot on Dean's throat, his mouth going dry with the desire to taste the pulse fluttering there. "In my celestial wavelength form, I suppose I would be more closely related to a visually-deducible electromagnetic wave than I would be a pug riding a whale into glorious battle."

"These pajamas are a work of art," Dean contended, kissing Cas's temple. "Hmm."

"What?"

"I guess that story about God -- Chuck -- using a rainbow to seal a promise about never again destroying earth with a flood is just apocrypha, huh?"

Cas thought about it. "Yes. Unfortunately." He tried not to sigh. "Sometimes I have to remind myself Chuck created some beautiful wonders despite...being who he is."

"Yeah. Going out after a hard rain and seeing a rainbow's colors arching through the clouds -- still seems hopeful." Dean started pulling Cas down beside him on the mattress. "Maybe that's what reminds me of you."

Unable to speak, Cas tucked his face into Dean's throat. 

Dean's fingers were slipping beneath the waistband of the pajamas, ever so slowly. "Anyway, these are mine." Cas hummed an affirmative. "I would like them back," Dean said.

"Now?" Cas heard himself gasp.

Dean pressed him onto his back to nose his way down the line of Cas's breastbone, his warm breath teasing over cooled skin and coaxing out a shiver Cas felt splintering through his whole body. 

"I would settle for you just not having them on at the moment," Dean said, using both hands to reclaim his property, and before raising up to kiss anything Cas might have wanted to say in response entirely out of his mouth.