Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Trying to post on Ao3 for the first time ever… wish me luck 😅

I also post these on Wattpad, including some fanart that I’ve found, so check me out over there if you’re interested :3

Word counts are probably slightly inaccurate, btw, as I’ve cut out some of my more meaningless rambling during the transcription process.

Chapter Text

Running in the middle of a blizzard was not a good idea. Jimmy could hardly see two feet in front of his face. Already, the snow was gathering in mounds around his feet, and getting higher every second. Soon, he was running through the freezing, knee-deep stuff. Even his feathered yellow wings weren't doing much good, though they were tucked around him as tight as they could be. Every so often, a monstrous face would leer out of the blizzard, and the canary would have to turn and run another way.

There was a gash on his arm where a skeleton had gotten a lucky shot and claw marks on his legs where he'd almost trampled a zombie child. A dim light up ahead caught his eye, and Jimmy stumbled blindly towards it, desperate for even a shred of safety. It was a small wooden cabin, on top of a hill. He reached the threshold and knocked loudly on the door, shouting to make himself heard above the storm. "Please, can I come in? There are so many monsters out here, and it's so cold. I only want to stay the night, please let me in!" The door swung open mid-knock, and Jimmy almost whapped his host in the face.

Standing in the doorway, a man with bright yellow-blonde hair that flickered like fire and warm red eyes was gesturing frantically. "Get inside, it's not safe out here!" He exclaimed worriedly, his voice raspy but soothing. Jimmy gratefully complied, entering the house as soon as his host moved out of the way. Just in time too, as a zombie claw just missed his tailfeathers as they disappeared out of reach.

As soon as the door shut behind them, there was a loud angry growl and a couple thumps on the door. Thankfully, the heavy oak door was thick and sturdy, and it held firm. The man with fire hair even barred the door for good measure, and then went around and did the same thing to the windows. After a few moments, the thumps and growls subsided, and both Jimmy and the owner of the house slumped in relief.

"We're safe now? They can't get in?" Jimmy asked, and his host nodded, a small, proud smile adorning his face. "Yup. Nothing'll get through that until morning, and by then, most everything will have gone away." Jimmy nodded, shuffling sheepishly. "I'm sorry about bursting in here unannounced. I'll leave as soon as I can." His host beckoned him away from the door. "Come inside, get warmed up, and then we can discuss all that. You look freezing." Jimmy nodded, and the kind stranger turned to go, then turned back and offered his hand. "I'm Tango." Jimmy shook it, bowing his head politely. "I'm Jimmy."

Tango then turned and led the frozen canary deeper into the house, and they stopped in what looked like a living room, with a giant hearth against the wall. Tango knelt in front of the empty fireplace, and with a few moments of rummaging, there was a little flame that quickly grew into a roaring fire. Tango sat Jimmy down in front of the fireplace, the left the room for a moment. Jimmy could feel the ice melting off his wings and sighed in relief. Once his wings were mostly unfrozen, he carefully spread them out to their full extent and flapped them a little bit, allowing the warmth to reach everywhere instead of just the outside. Tango came back in, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, then stopped and smiled at the sight of the canary basking in the warmth.

"Hey. I brought something warm to drink." The blonde greeted quietly, padding softly over and sitting down next to Jimmy. The canary welcomed the hot cocoa and the two sat in comfortable silence for a while, just sipping their cocoa and enjoying the warmth of the fire while the storm roared outside. When the glow of the burning embers started to fade and the hot chocolate cups were empty, Tango helped Jimmy up and brought him to a spare bedroom. That night, the grateful canary slept comfortably in a soft bed, safe and warm for the night.

Chapter Text

When Jimmy returned to consciousness the next morning, the feeling of the warm bed and the comfort of the soft blanket covering him immediately banished any suspicion of dreaming. The bed was so comfortable that Jimmy was reluctant to get up, just wanting to stay right where he was forever, but the guilt of being a burden to Tango, who was so generously hosting him, overcame him, and he forced himself to get up. As he stood, Jimmy noticed a chair by the door, all by itself.

Taking a closer look, the canary noticed that the chair held a bundle of fabric and a small slip of paper. Curious, Jimmy tip-tapped over and picked up the paper. It was a note from Tango, reading: Good morning. This is a change of clothes that you can wear while I wash your wet ones. -T Smiling thankfully at Tango's continued generosity, Jimmy quickly changed into the offered clothes, hefted his wet ones in his arms, and left the bedroom in search of his host.

The cabin wasn't overly large, but there were a lot of closed doors that Jommy was afraid to snoop through. Thankfully, the soft sounds of humming saved Jimmy from the embarrassment of fruitless searching, and the golden-winged one followed it into a quaint little kitchen. There, Tango was stirring a soup pot while it simmered on the stove. From his position in the doorway, Jimmy took the opportunity to examine his host closer, as he hadn't been awake enough to do so last night.

Other than the fire hair and the red eyes, Tango's ears were longer and pointer than a normal human's, and his teeth looked sharp. His legs, though partially covered by long black pants, resembled those of a deer, but instead of fur, ash-colored, almost scaly skin covered them. His legs ended in two small, delicate-looking, cloven feet, possibly hooves, which tapped and shuffled in time to the tune Tango was humming. A long thin tail with a tiny flame at the end flickered and swayed behind him as he hummed. When the tune came to an end, Jimmy knocked gently on the doorframe to let Tango know of his presence.

The man with fire hair turned and waved, gesturing for Jimmy to enter. "Good morning handsome. You sleep well?" Tango greeted, smiling warmly in welcome. Jimmy flushed at the unexpected compliment, his feathers fluffing up bashfully. "Y-yeah. Best sleep I've had in a while. H-has the blizzard stopped yet?" He stammered. Tango smiled slightly at the canary's flustered nature, but let it go to save him any more embarrassment. "Nope. It's still raging." The fire-haired imp answered, striding over to the window and pulling back the curtain so that Jimmy could see for himself.

The canary's wings drooped in disappointment at the sound of the howling wind and the multiple sinister shadows visible from the window. "I'm so sorry. I said I'd leave as soon as the blizzard was over, I didn't think it'd last this long." Tango shrugged, closing the window and walking over to where Jimmy had placed his wet clothes bundle. "Storms up here are abnormally powerful. Most only last a couple of days, but I've had one that lasted a week and a half." He said, picking up the wet clothes and dumping them in a washbasket for later. Jimmy shot him a skeptical glance, sitting down in a chair next to the door. "You're joking."

Tango shook his head. "Mm mm. The stupid blizzard killed everything in a two-thousand-block radius, almost including me. The cold alone couldn't kill me, but my farms were shot. I almost starved." Jimmy nodded, slightly chastised as he fidgeted with one of his feathers. "Looks like you're stuck with me, heh." He muttered with a bitter laugh. Tango shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "I don't mind. It can get quite terribly lonely up here at times, so I welcome any and all company."

Jimmy looked up, his eyebrows furrowed in slight concern. "Why do you stay up here, if it's so lonely for you?" He caught himself and bowed his head in apology. "Sorry if that's too personal, you don't have to answer-" "Because it's safer for everyone else." Tango interrupted, quieting the canary. Jimmy stayed silent, waiting to see if the imp-like man would elaborate. After a moment, Tango continued.

"The cold temperatures up here regulate my body heat. Usually, just a touch to my bare skin causes something to burst into flame, whether I want it to or not. I've accidentally burned down a couple of villages. I've hurt people... it's better if I stay up here so that no one gets hurt." Tango explained, avoiding Jimmy's eyes. The canary smiled sympathetically, resting his head in his hands. "I get it. But y'know, it would be nice if you had some actual company." Tango smiled sadly, nodding. "Yeah. It would be nice."

There was silence for a moment, then Jimmy nodded suddenly as if he'd decided on something. "Alright then. If it's okay with you, I'd like to stay here for a little longer, even when the blizzard ends." Tango jerked in surprise, his fire hair and tail flaring up with the strong emotion. "What?" He exclaimed, his red eyes wide in shock. Jimmy shrugged, shuffling his feet as his wings fluffed up bashfully. "I mean, you're lonely, right? I don't really have anywhere I need to be, and... well, I like this place. Feels like home." He mumbled, his face turning pink. A bright grin spread over Tango's face as Jimmy's words processed, and the fire imp had to be very careful not to burst into flames. "You can stay as long as you want to. Thank you." He finally said once he'd gathered himself a little bit.

Chapter Text

In the moment before Ren's sword cleaved my skull, and my vision turned white, the last thoughts running through my mind were of Jimmy. How much I missed him. How sorry I was that I couldn't avenge him. How much I wanted to see him again, one last time...

Scott awoke, gasping, in a field of flowers. The phantom pain from the blade that had killed him was fading, and he raised a hand to his head, feeling absently for any trace of a wound. There wasn't one. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was.

The sunlight was warm, the breeze smelled sweet, and the flowers swayed in the wind. A sudden sense of peace washed over the blue-haired elf. Scott knew this place. He was sure of it. There was a feeling of familiarity, of sleepy calm, that he had felt before. It was all there, all he needed to remember was there, but he couldn't connect the dots. It was something it the air, some sense of warmth and security that he'd felt a long time ago. A feeling that reminded him of-

"Scott."

The quiet call stilled Scott's racing mind, the confused noise sputtering to an abrupt halt. He whirled, heart pounding and sudden warmth swelling in his chest, strangling the air from his lungs. "Jimmy." Scott breathed, a blinding grin growing at the sight of the blonde's gentle smile. "Hey. I was wondering when you were gonna show up." Jimmy said, reaching out and brushing a finger under Scott's eye tenderly. Scott's leaned into his lover's touch, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry I took so long." He apologized, thinking that he had wasted so much time trying to get revenge when he could've been here, safe, warm, with his Flower Husband. The canary shook his head, moving closer and pressing his forehead against the cyanette's forehead. "It's okay. You're here now. Welcome home, love."

Chapter Text

"Jimmy, I live in the north corner of the map. There's a star...where is it? Ah, there it is. That star points north. If you follow that star, you'll find my base. If you ever need a safe space to hide, or even a bed for the night, I'll always let you in. And if I'm not home, type 'stars' in the chat, and I'll come running home." This was what Scott murmured in Jimmy's ear one quiet night. The canary laughed it off in the moment, responding with a playful tease and missing the seriousness in the cyanette's eyes. The conversation moved on and the invitation was promptly forgotten.

- - -

Many weeks later, during a fight for his life, Jimmy recalled Scott's offer. In a momentary burst of adrenaline, the canary turned and fled, narrowly avoiding arrows loosened from enchanted bows aimed to kill. Desperation lent speed to his flight, and he outpaced the enemies snapping hungrily at his heels. Just as his heart pounded in his chest, Jimmy's thoughts raced wildly, mind filled with turmoil and doubt. What if he's lying? What if this is all a trap? What if he changed his mind and I'm no longer welcome? Yet somehow, despite the mobs and his misgivings, Jimmy arrived mostly unharmed at Scott's doorstep, with only a blast mark from a creeper explosion and a gash on his forehead from a skeleton arrow.

When the canary reached the heavy spruce door, he still hadn't made up his mind about whether or not it was safe. He froze, and his hesitation lasted a second too long. A bold zombie got in a lucky strike, and Jimmy cried out in surprise at the sudden flare of pain. The canary turned and struck the zombie down, then gasped in horror at the sheer number of monsters shuffling, clanking, stumbling, and crawling towards him.

His mind made up by the hoard of mobs, Jimmy banged his fist on the door, shouting to make himself heard over the cacophony of horrible sounds the creatures made. "Hello? Scott? Anyone! Let me in, please!" No answer. "Communicator," Jimmy muttered, reaching for the device while fending off an overly eager spider. /Stars!/ He sent the message and sighed in relief, feeling a little bit lighter. Help was on the way. He just had to hold out until Scott arrived.

Looking up, the canary made eye contact with those of impassive glowing purple and a pit of dread formed in his stomach. "No," Jimmy breathed, eyes wide with horror as the enderman's mouth ripped open and unearthly shrieks filled the air. "Not you."

- - -

Scott was deep underground, mining for iron and hopefully diamonds, but he didn't have much hope on that front. Diamonds were a lot harder to find these days. He'd collected a lot of iron though, and gold and lapis, so all in all, he counted it a successful mission. The cyanette was just about to call it a day (or night, he's been underground too long to know) when his communicator pinged cheerfully with a direct message. "Huh. Strange. Nobody ever uses that function." Scott muttered, pulling out the communicator to check.

It was a message from Jimmy, and he'd kept it short and simple: /Stars!/ Immediately, cold fear coiled in Scott's chest. Jimmy needed him, and if the exclamation point meant anything, Jimmy needed him now. The cyanette left his half-packed setup, furnaces, and crafting table strewn all over the place, and took off running, his worry morphing into full-blown panic. What if I don't make it in time? What if he dies before I get there? What if I'm too late? This can't be happening. Not again! Please, hang in there, Jimmy, I'm coming!

- - -

"I hate endermen," Jimmy whispered, shakily lifting his sword for a fight he wasn't at all sure he could win. His wings, usually tucked tightly behind him, unfurled and flapped in fear, sensing that he was in mortal danger. Then enderman screeched for a second, vibrating angrily in place, then disappeared in a poof of pink and purple swirls. The unnatural shrieks didn't fade however, they only got louder. Jimmy was trembling, his body shaking in fear. His fingers failed him, and his sword slipped out of his grip, clattering to the floor. The canary felt his lungs seize up in his chest, and panic was strangling the air from his mouth. He couldn't breathe.

A phantom memory of an iron grip around his neck and his legs swinging in thin air surfaced and flashed behind his eyes. Jimmy flickered between that memory and the present, both times staring into glowing purple eyes full of pure fury and bloodlust. Now, just like then, Jimmy was certain he wasn't going to survive. He pressed his back to the door and closed his eyes, tears pricking at his eyes and a small sob escaping his mouth, his fingers scrabbling at his neck to remove a grip that wasn't there. His wings were out, his strength was failing him, and he couldn't breathe. Jimmy knew he was dead. Why aren't you here, Scott? Where are you?

- - -

Scott clambered up the ladder as fast as he possibly could, heartbeat pounding in his ears. Surging up through the trapdoor and grabbing a nearby iron sword on the way, Scott ran to the front door and unbolted it, yanking it open only to get slammed into by a heavy bunch of yellow feathers.

- - -

Jimmy had resigned himself to death, and then the heavy door that he was leaning on inexplicably swung inward, causing the canary to lose his balance and topple inside. He collided with someone and fell on top of them in a jumble of arms, legs, wings, and with a puff of yellow feathers. Jimmy squawked in surprise, and the person he ran into chuckled. "Hello, Jimmy," Scott said, a relieved grin spreading over his face.

Jimmy's eyes grew wide and he scrambled off of the cyanette, a bright pink blush blooming over his face. "Scott! Hi! You came! Are you okay?" He exclaimed, probably louder than was needed, but he was stressed and flustered, so he wasn't really in control of his voice at the moment. "I'm alright," Scott said, smiling from his position on the floor, where he was still flat on his back. Jimmy nodded awkwardly, fidgeting and shuffling on his taloned feet.

Scott sat up and gazed at him, his smile melting into a concerned frown. "Jimmy?" He asked, confused and worried. The canary jumped, his wings half-extended and feathers ruffled. "What?" Jimmy asked cautiously, his voice cracking and his eyes open wide, his pupils tiny. Scott stood and walked over, reaching out and settling a steadying hand on the nervous bird's shoulder. "Are you okay, Jimmy?" The cyanette asked.

Jimmy opened his mouth and hesitated, then they both jumped at the sound of a heavy thump against the door. Then another. Then ominous scratching sounds from the windows. Then a shrieking, three-block-tall, monstrous specter appeared with a poof of pink sparkles and reached its claws for Jimmy.

Scott didn't hesitate, whirling around and sweeping Jimmy behind him, holding out his sword as he stared the enderman dead in the eyes. It let out a fresh scream of rage and rushed at Scott, the new object of its fury. The cyanette didn't falter, raising his sword and calmly batting the monster back, speaking to Jimmy over the clashes and screeches. "I've got him. Could you barricade the door?" He said, steady and undisturbed even as the terrifying creature clawed at his face. Jimmy nodded, taking great care to look only at Scott and not at the raging enderman, though it wouldn't have mattered if he did, as the monster's attention was solely on the cyanette.

Jimmy tiptoed around the two locked in combat and placed a block in front of the door so that when a zombie broke through, it still couldn't reach inside. A bloodcurdling shriek sounded, and Jimmy's feathers puffed out, but when he turned to help Scott, all he saw was a small whisp of white smoke and an ender pearl. Scott himself looked drained, but unharmed, if Jimmy was judging by the tired but beautiful smile on his face. That final scream was the enderman's last.

With the monster gone, Jimmy finally relaxed, and his wings folded in relief, sensing that he was safe. Scott, kind, selfless Scott, who'd run immediately to Jimmy's aid when the canary called for help, opened his arms and smiled gently. Jimmy didn't even think about rushing right into them and burrowing his face into Scott's chest. He felt safe. He felt warm. Scott laughed, and Jimmy could feel it, the vibrations of his mirth contrasting with the rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jimmy didn't realize that he was crying until he moved his face and saw the wet patch on Scott's shirt. "Ah, I'm sorry," Jimmy mumbled, roughly wiping at his face. Scott smiled gently, shaking his head. "Jimmy." He said fondly, reaching out and gently brushing his finger under the canary's eye. Jimmy sniffled but said nothing. "What's wrong, Jimmy?" Scott prompted gently. The canary was silent for a moment before speaking, his voice halting and shaky. "You came. I thought you wouldn't. I thought I was going to die, but you came and you saved me." Jimmy said, fiddling with his feathers uncertainly.

Scott nodded, his face creased in a gentle concern or a worried fondness. "Well, I made a promise, didn't I?" He said, chuckling a bit. Jimmy started crying again, and Scott wrapped the canary in his arms, rocking him back and forth and just letting him be vulnerable. For the first time in the games, Jimmy felt safe. He never wanted to leave Scott's warm embrace. He was in the arms of someone who had made a promise to protect him and kept it, and Jimmy wanted to stay there forever.

Chapter Text

Scott nursed his after-dinner mug of coffee in the living room, taking small sips and occasionally casting glances at the door. Eventually, he sighed, put down his mug, stood, and settled his hands on his hips. "What is taking him so long?"

- - -

Jimmy typed away at his computer, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. He'd been working on this project for months, and he was so close to being finished. If he worked for a couple more hours, he might be able to get it all wrapped up that night. A sudden knock at the door caused him to lose his train of thought and Jimmy sighed.

"Come in." He called, and the door opened, a familiar cyanette peeking into the office room. "Hey babe." He said, walking in and looping his arms around Jimmy's neck. The dirty blonde sighed again, more fondly, and leaned back against his lover's chest. "Hi." He answered, allowing himself a moment to simply be with Scott. "When will you be done for today?" The cyanette asked softly, resting his chin on Jimmy's head. The dirty blonde sighed for a third time, reminded of his work, and thus, his looming deadline. "I don't know, petal. It might be a while." He said, soft with reluctance.

Scott nodded, disappointed, but unsurprised. It had been the same answer for a while, which the cyanette had learned to mean I'll work until I pass out. So he gave the same response, one that didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. "Don't forget to take a break, love." Scott reminded, then took up the empty dinner plate on the desk and left. Jimmy watched him go, torn between finishing work or dropping it and following Scott. Undecided, he reached for his mug to take a sip and found it empty. Jimmy frowned, as he didn't think he'd had enough time to drink it all. Then he looked toward the clock, and his eyes blew wide open. "Shit."

- - -

Scott nursed his coffee and sighed, absentmindedly watching the water droplets trickling down the window panes. It was by looking at the window that he saw the reflection, coming up behind him. He had plenty of time to turn around, but he didn't. Scott waited to see what his partner would do. Two familiar arms snaked around his waist, loosely holding the cyanette in a gentle embrace.

Scott settled his free hand over both of Jimmy's, keeping his gaze on the man's reflection in the window. "Weren't you in the middle of something, love?" He asked, well aware of the time that had passed. Asking only to see if Jimmy was aware as well, aware that he'd spent hours upon hours upon hours behind that desk, in that chair, typing on that computer. Jimmy caught the hidden question and request. Are you going to leave again? Please don't go.

"It can wait." Jimmy murmured, nuzzling into Scott's neck. The cyanette leaned back into his partner's embrace. "We need to figure out how to keep you from spending all your time in the office." He said, the simple statement speaking volumes in gentle admonishment, tired loneliness, and tender forgiveness. Jimmy nodded firmly, tightening his arms around Scott's waist. "I'm sorry, petal." He murmured quietly. Scott smiled, and a tiny ball of pain somewhere in his chest started to uncoil. "I forgive you. We can figure everything out in the morning, but for right now, you need sleep. Let's go to bed."

Chapter Text

"Whoof, it's really storming! Glad I found this cave!" Scar gasped, a little out of breath from running. While he caught his breath, he turned, wincing at the painful shrieks that his boots made on the stone floor. "Man, that rain is really comin' down out there..." Scar panted, twisting his dripping locks of hair to rid them of rainwater. There was a crack of thunder, and in the silence following, Scar heard little sounds of shuffling coming from behind him. The pirate whirled, standing and smoothly drawing his blade defensively.

A quick scan of the cave showed two black eyes, only barely visible by the wet glint they gave off. Scar raised his sword and scowled, baring his teeth to look intimidating. "Show yourself." He growled, ready to fight or flee. A flash of lightning revealed a little red bird huddled in the corner, one wing tucked into its side neatly and the other hanging limply, twisted in a way that looked painful. Scar lowered his blade, slightly embarrassed that he'd been scowling so heavily at something so clearly harmless, then frowned, tilting his head in concern. "Well hello there, little birdie. What happened to your wing?" He asked.

The bird (a parrot, maybe) hopped back, eyeing Scar distrustfully. The pirate sheathed his sword and raised his hands unthreateningly, slowly kneeling low to pacify the bird. "I'm not gonna hurt you. In fact, I think I might be able to help you fix that hurt wing of yours." Scar said, his voice level and calm, hoping to soothe the wounded animal. The parrot seemed to narrow its eyes, then hopped forward warily. It squawked, tilting its head questioningly, and Scar nodded. "Yep. Only if you want me to though." The parrot squawked again, hopped closer, and held out its wing.

Scar smiled and touched it gently, feeling for any broken bones. The parrot screeched loudly, jerking its wing away. Scar winced, pulling back from the wounded creature and raising his hands apologetically. "Sorry, sorry. Your wing's broken pretty bad, little guy." Scar paused in thought. "Are you a guy? Or am I being stereotypical?" He wondered aloud. The parrot screeched in irritation, hopping from side to side to regain Scar's attention. You said you could help me?? Scar imagined it demanding.

"Yes, yes, I'm getting there, be patient." He muttered playfully. "Let's think about this." Scar sat down on the ground, steepled his fingers, and frowned at the grumpy little bird. "I've never made a splint for a bird before." After a moment spent processing that sentence, the pirate snorted and covered his mouth. "Come to think of it, I've never actually talked to a parrot before."

The parrot made an irritated huff that sounded eerily human and flapped its uninjured wing impatiently. Scar made a face at it. "Okay, fine, I'll do it, but we'll have to go back to my ship for the medkit, and please don't get too mad at me if it's terrible, okay? Also, you won't be able to move that wing, or else the splint will break. Also also, it's going to hurt. Like, a lot. You sure you're up for it?" Scar questioned, watching it carefully. The parrot puffed out its feathers nervously but still squawked in agreement.

Scar smiled sympathetically, then carefully picked up the little bird and placed it on his shoulder. "As soon as the rain slows down a little bit, we'll make a run for it." The parrot shifted a bit, settled into a comfortable position, then chirped questioningly, shifting slightly. its sharp little claws easily poking through the thin fabric of Scar's shirt and pricking his skin. The pirate winced, making a mental note to buy leather pads so his shoulders wouldn't get torn to shreds.

"Well, if I go out there now, we could get struck by lightning. Have you seen how much metal I have on me?" Scar told the parrot, wiggling the hilt of his sword, flicking the golden hoops he wore in his ears, and tapping the multiple metal talismans in various places on his clothing. The parrot looked unimpressed, nipping Scar's ear condescendingly. "Ay! Careful, that ear's been through a lot already." Scar scolded, gently tapping the little red bird's beak. It reared back, looking highly offended causing the pirate to snort, which only made the parrot even more insulted. "Oh hush, birdie. You're stuck with me unless you would rather get struck by lightning."

- - -

Once the rain stopped, Grian impatiently nudged the human's face. The human looked up from whatever he was doing and made a pleased noise, scrambling to his feet and causing Grian to overbalance and topple off the human's shoulder. The Avain squawked in surprise and alarm, flapping his uninjured wing. With surprisingly quick reflexes, the human caught him, and was even careful to not touch his injured wing. "Sorry about that, birdie." The human apologized, settling the Avian back on his shoulder.

Grian, in a display of caution and extreme pettiness, dug his claws into the human's shoulder. The human winced, but he chuckled. "Yeah, I deserve that, don't I?" Grian chirped self-righteously, but loosened his grip just a smidge. The human smiled and walked out of the cave. Along the long trek to his ship made of dead trees, Grian deliberated with himself. Just before they arrived, he came to a decision. I'll stay with him until my wing heals. Just until then.

Chapter Text

After many months of adventures, chaos, and having only one working wing, Scar decided to check if Grian's wing had healed yet. "Let's see how your wing's doing, eh birdie? It should be one hundred percent cured by now." He said one morning, an hour or two after they woke up. Grian let the pirate poke and prod at his wrapped wing, and to his pleasant surprise, there was no ache. There was no trace of the throbbing, lingering pain that had clouded his mind and made his wing hang so limply months ago. Scar smiled at the Avian's silence, and removed the cast. Grian stretched his stiff wings out as wide as he could, flapped them experimentally, then jumped up on the rail of The Flying Jellie and promptly hopped over the side, ignoring Scar's shout of surprise and concern.

The Avian plummeted like a stone, and right before he hit the water, Grian opened his wings and caught the air, letting the wind sweep him up, up, up. The familiar, beautiful feeling of weightlessness wrapped him in a warm embrace, and Grian finally felt like he was back in his element. Welcome back. The wind seemed to whisper to him. How did I survive so long without flying? Grian wondered absently, lightheaded and giddy from the indescribable feeling that he'd spent months without. "Woooo! Go birdie!!" Scar cheered from below, waving his arms happily from far below. Inspired by the praise, Grian decided to show off a little bit. He tucked his wings in close to his sides and dived, then flung them out and let the momentum flip him over. Scar cheered, clapping his hands, and Grian chirped happily.

After a few more tricks, the Avian's wings started to tire from months of no use. Grian soared back down to The Flying Jellie and alighted on the railing, spreading his wings triumphantly and squawking his joy to the heavens. Scar let out a raucous round of applause, grinning and showing off pointed teeth enthusiastically, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which looked sorrowful. "Your wing's all better now, birdie." He said, his voice faltering and his applause fading. Grian knew Scar well enough by then to know that his bright grin was a mask. He was hiding behind his smile, and something was wrong. "You... you don't have to stay here anymore. I- I hope you have fun, wherever you end up next." Scar continued, avoiding Grian's eyes and gazing down at the creaky wooden boards of the deck.

Grian froze, his wings half-tucked and his mind racing at the revelation. I'm free. He realized. I can fly again. I'm free to go wherever the wind takes me. Without thinking, the Avian flew off, missing the way Scar's face fell, missing the small, wounded, punched-in-the-gut sound that escaped the pirate's mouth, and soon, The Flying Jellie was nothing but a far-off dot against the horizon.

- - -

Over the next couple of days, Grian alternated between flying and catching quick naps on rocks sticking out of the sea, nabbing a fish or two if he got hungry. By a stroke of luck, the skies were clear, the sea was calm, and Grian was alone with his thoughts. At first, the freedom was fun, nothing but the wind whistling through his feathers and the cool sea air on his face,but by the third day, the Avian grew dissatisfied.

There was no sound for miles except the rustle of the ocean below, and Grian found himself missing the non-stop chatter aboard The Flying Jellie. But... no that wasn't all. Upon delving a little deeper into that feeling, the Avian discovered that it wasn't the noise that he missed: it was the company. Grian was lonely. Which was silly, of course, he'd been alone for his whole life. There's no reason for him to be feeling lonely when solitude was what he was used to. Isolation was normal. But, paying no heed to logic, the feeling persisted.

Grian found himself missing the little ditties that Scar would sing in the mornings, the way he would laugh at Grian's squawk whenever he messed up a word, the way he chatted constantly to the Avian even though the pirate thought he was just a parrot. Suddenly, a thought struck Grian that gave him pause. What if Scar was just as lonely as he was? The pirate had mentioned having a crew once, but... Grian had never seen another creature aboard The Flying Jellie, not one. Well, except the seagulls that would occasionally perch on the mast and rails, looking for food.

With that in mind, Grian wondered if he'd made a good decision. I thought I would be happy out here, but... I think I was happier with Scar. I think... I think I want to go back. The realization rattled Grian, as he was used to being independent. He'd never craved another's company like he did now, and it scared him. The Avian wrestled with himself for a while, but he eventually decided to go back to The Flying Jellie and just see. He would just see if Scar wanted him back. If the pirate wanted to be rid of Grian, he would leave. With a plan in mind, the Avian promptly turned right around and flew back the way he came, hoping that he would be welcome.

Chapter Text

Scar had forgotten how lonely captaining a one-man ship could be. Sure, the captain always held the reputation and glory, but without his crew? Without his crew, a captain was nothing. Scar had learned to live like that. He had lived like that, for a very long time, becoming accustomed to the lone pirate life. Bringing the parrot on board, however, had changed something, some survival instinct deep inside Scar. Little by little, he'd gotten attached to the bird. The curious little parrot's presence slowly chipped away at the knot of hurt and loneliness in his chest, driving it away. Having company lessened a desperate longing for friendship, a desire that had gone unnoticed by the pirate for many years. For those months, Scar was happier than he'd been in a very long time.

So, when his feathered friend flew away without hesitation, and Scar found himself alone, the crushing desolation swept over him like the ruthless ocean tide. It caught him off guard, and he made a small, wounded noise like he'd been punched hard in the gut. Scar forced back tears that stung the corners of his eyes and choked back a sob. It was so hard, so hard, to get up after that. To stand up and continue. When someone who had become such an integral part of his life was suddenly ripped away, it took a long adjusting period. Scar also knew this. But this time, it was so much harder.

- - -

Over the next several days, Scar occupied himself with anything and everything he could think of. He was so productive, he should have proud of himself. Scar did chore after chore, including some that he'd been putting off for months, like scrubbing the barnacles off The Flying Jellie's sides, cleaning out and organizing his chests, etc. Anything to keep him from missing, or even thinking about his vanished bird companion. The most helpful were the hard, grueling tasks that required a lot of thought. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about the parrot. Sometimes he even staved off sleeping, forcing his eyes to stay open even as they drooped in exhaustion, just so that he could fall asleep (see: pass out) without lying awake for hours with nothing to do but think. Sleep was the only mercy, but as soon as he woke, the loneliness set in again. It knawed at his bones, chipped away at his sanity, and made itself a gaping hole in his heart to nest.

After about a week, there came a day when the sail hung slack and there was no wind. The Flying Jellie drifted gently along on the currents, while Scar himself mopped the poop deck. It was only because of that that he spotted the dark, heavy clouds gliding ominously his way. Without any wind, they were slow, but from the size of them, Scar knew that he was in for one nightmare of a storm. He briefly worried about how the parrot was doing, if it had gotten caught in the storm, but he caught himself before that thought could continue. Then the wind picked up and Scar hurried to get the ship ready, knowing he didn't have long before the storm arrived.

It was worse than he thought. It rode fast upon the quickening winds, whipping the sea into a frenzy with its fury, and it broke upon The Flying Jellie like a lightning bolt felling a tree. The tiny vessel was thrown about on the raging sea almost effortlessly, and Scar was doing everything in his power just to stay afloat. The timber groaned from the strain and the sails flapped wildly, like birds trying to fly away. It was a storm in the way a great white shark was a fish. It was more hurricane than storm. And Scar, a seasoned pirate, was frightened for his life. In all his years, he'd never come across a storm like this before. The waves pummeled him, the winds battered him, and he was hurled side to side with the mighty swells of the sea. As he blinked rain from his eyes and swept back sopping wet hair, a flash of lightning lit up the rotting, sharp-taloned claw grasping the railing, and Scar's blood ran cold.

- - -

Anyone who's spent any measure of time on the ocean, sailor or pirate, knows to watch out for the Drowned. Undead, incredibly durable underwater zombies, they match the temper of the sea. On a sunny, calm day, they're little more than seals, basking in the light and ignoring most anything, only getting angry when someone interrupts their sunbathing. But on a stormy day... They get vicious. Angry. Vengeful. Prone to attacking any unfortunate ship that happens across their path, brutally and ceaselessly, until they've doomed it to the depths of the sea. Scar had the bad luck of being right above a horde of Drowned when the storm broke.

- - -

As soon as he spotted the claw, Scar knew what was bound to happen. In seconds, the Drowned would swarm The Flying Jellie and, after killing everything onboard, they would drag it to the ocean floor, never to be seen again. The only way Scar had a chance of surviving was if he killed them all. It was an impossible task, one pirate against hundreds, but it was the only hope he had, so he wasted no time. Scar drew his sword and slashed at the claw, smiling grimly as it withdrew with an outraged screech. He then whirled to face the other side of his ship and charged, screaming a war cry, into the cluster of Drowned that had clambered aboard while he'd been distracted.

Scar's sword flashed and slashed, gleaming silver in the occasional white flashes of lightning. He hacked and chopped at the seemingly unending masses of Drowned that poured aboard. He was constantly turning around, guarding his own back, and it quickly tired him out. He somehow maneuvered his way onto the prow of The Flying Jellie, the figurehead to his back and the deck to his front.

From his position on the prow, the Drowned were forced into a bottleneck. They couldn't climb directly into the prow, and it was only wide enough to advance one at a time. Unfortunately, Scar was tiring. He was panting and swaying on his feet, heart pounding and sword trembling in his hands. The horde of monsters just kept advancing, no matter how many he cut down. Scar couldn't hold out for much longer. A Drowned got in a lucky claw swipe to his face before he dispatched it. Scar winced as blood dripped down his face into his eyes, obscuring his vision.

He fought on, tired, weary, bedraggled, wounded, assuming that the red flashes he saw were blood leaking from his forehead into his eyes. And when he saw the wingspan swoop down, he dismissed it, assuming that he was either daydreaming or hallucinating from blood loss. Hey, it felt like he'd been fighting forever, so why wouldn't he be woozy? But then the red phantom flew high up by the mast and dropped a bag of metal things on top of the heads of the Drowned horde. Lightning flickered and flashed and then struck, and the Drowned screeched in pain as many were obliterated and the rest were burned badly. Scar blinked in surprise, lowering his sword and laughing in disbelief as the sizzling zombies retreated. "What the heck??" He asked between confused giggles. "What was that??"

He got his answer when the red phantom swooped down once more and alighted on a cannon that had rolled loose from its moorings. Scar blinked, hardly believing his eyes. There, clear as day, sat the very same parrot that had fluttered away seven days hence! It tilted its head and squawked, looking rather sheepish. (Could parrots look sheepish? They were parrots.) Scar blinked again, then grinned. "I don't know how you did that, what you're doing back here, or why you decided to use lightning of all things, but I'm so glad you're back." He exclaimed, hurrying over and bending over to be at eye level with the parrot.

The parrot chirped softly, and Scar felt a surge of fondness for his returned feathered friend. For whatever reason it had come back, it didn't look like it was going anywhere. Scar felt so much better now that it was back. After all, just like a sailor needed his ship, what was a pirate without his parrot?

Chapter Text

Tango leaned over the rails of his little boat, The Tektopian, and sighed fondly, opening his mouth to taste the salty sea air. The life of a sailor was lonely, sure, but it was worth it. The solitude was a fair price to wake up to the smell of the sea each morning, listen to the faint cries of the seagulls squabbling over fish, and feel the gentle rocking of the waves under his feet. Tango sighed happily again. He couldn't get this back in the city.

It was around mid-morning when the first hovering notes of the song reached Tango's ears. Curiosity made him jerk upright and look around, ears straining to hear more. Music was a strange thing to hear when out on the ocean, especially singing. There was silence for a moment before the melody drifted out again. Tango immediately grabbed the rope controlling the mainsail and tugged, directing his tiny craft towards a large outcropping of rocks, from where the music seemed to be coming from.

While he was still a little ways away, he caught a glimpse of yellow feathers. Almost instantly, a bolt of cold fear struck his chest. Tango knew what feathers on the open ocean meant. Sirens. The infamous half-human, half-bird creatures lured sailors in with their angelic voices and seductive bodies, only to wreak their ships and consume their flesh. Tango had just about turned his ship around completely when an alarmed squawk echoed over the water.

Tango shouldn't turn around. He knew he shouldn't turn around. It had to be a trap. If he looked back, he was done for. The siren would get him. But, curse his big heart, if the siren was in trouble, Tango knew had to help. With a frustrated sigh and a muttered curse, Tango swung the mainsail back around and set a course directly toward the outcropping of rocks.

- - -

Jimmy wasn't expecting to be ambushed. To be fair, he never thought that that was something he would have to expect, considering he'd been alone for practically his entire life. Being isolated on a tiny rock island in the middle of a giant ocean will do that to a person. So, when a vicious, scaly, and terrifying giant eel with razor-sharp teeth lunged at him out of nowhere, could you blame him for being scared? No. No, you could not.

Jimmy was folding his newest weaving project, absently humming a little tune that he'd made up when the first flash of iron green scales glimmered in the water. Curious, Jimmy leaned over the water, clearly casting his shadow. That was his first mistake. When he didn't see anything, even when he looked very carefully with his enhanced siren genetics, Jimmy shrugged it off and went back to his work, turning his back to the water. That was his second mistake, and it was very nearly fatal.

The second he turned away, the giant eel sprang from the water with the strength of a coiled python and sunk its sharp teeth into Jimmy's shoulder, wrapping the rest of its body around his ribs. The siren let out an alarmed squawk, surprised and pained, then twisted around, grasping the eel's head before it could strike again. In response, the giant eel tightened its coils, squeezing frantically, and Jimmy felt his ribs begin to groan under the pressure. His lungs began to feel constricted, and every breath came in gasps. To make matters worse, his shoulder was on fire with pain, and that plus the sudden lack of oxygen was making his brain fuzzy.

Fighting a giant eel shouldn't have been very difficult, but the loss of much-needed oxygen was weakening the siren, and the smell of blood was making the eel frenzied. Jimmy was so preoccupied with his struggle with the giant eel that he didn't hear the bump of wood against stone, nor the footsteps that hurried up behind him. Only when the eel was ripped from his hands did Jimmy realize that, suddenly, he wasn't alone. There was somebody else on the little rock island, and they were fighting the giant eel for him. Jimmy was more than happy to sit down and catch his breath, blinking black spots out of his eyes and wincing when his shoulder and ribs twinged painfully.

As soon as he regained his normal composure, Jimmy turned his attention to his wings. Or, arms. Wing-arms? Whatever they were, the feathers were messed up by the eel attack, and Jimmy frowned absently. He'd have to straighten those out later. Or, perhaps much much later, as he'd have to somehow fix his shoulder wound before anything. And he couldn't even see it, much less fix it. So, that was to be his priority.

As if the universe had read his mind and decided to grant him mercy, a piece of cloth was presently thrust into his face. Jimmy blinked, leaning back to see the cloth. The cloth retreated a bit, and Jimmy made out the color red as well as some yellow embroidery.

"Here. For your shoulder." A strange and raspy, but pleasant voice said.

Jimmy assumed it was the voice of the person who'd saved him, and he smiled, looking up to thank the stranger.

"Thank y-" He started, choking midway through his sentence.

His eyes blew wide, and his breath came in short, panicked gasps. Holding the cloth was, no mistake, a human. Worse, not just a human, but a pirate.

Jimmy gave a choked cry, lunging backward and shuffling away as fast as he could. The pirate didn't move, but there was a scrunching near the top of their face. Jimmy didn't know what that meant, but he was certain it meant nothing good. His wings puffed out and feathers sprayed everywhere. Adrenaline and panic controlled his actions, and he scrambled quickly away, flat-out running into the nearby cave and scrunching himself into a crevice, pressing his wings into his mouth to muffle his panicked noises.

It felt like mere seconds later that he heard the footsteps, horrible, slow, thumping footsteps. Jimmy whimpered, shaking as a panic attack took hold of his body. Pirates were the one thing he had always feared. All sirens knew to fear them. The ruthless humans were infamous for attacking, mauling, torturing, and murdering sirens without mercy. Big or small, large groups or loners, the corsairs didn't discriminate. Jimmy knew that if he was caught, if the pirate found him, he was dead, and he would die painfully and slowly.

Hot, terrified tears prickled Jimmy's eyes, and his body trembled uncontrollably. He felt like he was freezing, burning, and going to be sick, or all at once. He was scared out of his mind. The footsteps tromped closer, and closer, and closer. Jimmy closed useless, blurry eyes and cried as silently as he was able. He knew, oh he knew, he wasn't getting out of this. He was dead.

All of a sudden, the footsteps stopped. Jimmy held his breath, trembling. The pirate seemed to be... hesitating? Surely they knew where he was. The trail of feathers led directly to Jimmy, the pirate knew he was there. But... they weren't attacking. Why weren't they attacking? A flicker of color caught Jimmy's wide-eyed, terrified gaze. It was... the cloth?

Taking a closer look, the piece of cloth was a bandana, red in color, with small yellow swirls and triangles trimming the border. It was wrinkled, and some of the symbols had worn away. Jimmy was a weaver, and he knew that the bandana was well-loved. Was the pirate... giving it to him? Why?

"I'm sorry if I scared you."

Jimmy instinctually flinched at the sound, pressing himself against the wall, but he made no sound. The pirate continued.

"I mean you no harm. I noticed your shoulder was wounded. I can help you wrap it, or, if you want me to leave you alone, you can use the bandana to wrap your shoulder."

Incredibly, as the pirate spoke, Jimmy felt his terror receding. Somehow, despite all the hard lessons ingrained in him since he was a fledgling, his fear melted. The pirate might be trying to trick him out of his hiding spot, just to torture and kill him, but... when was the last time he'd heard another being's voice? When was the last time he'd been freely offered kindness?

It was a bad idea. Jimmy's head was screaming at him, but for a moment, a very short moment, his courage grew and he reached out, snatching the bandana. The pirate made a small noise, a gasp, a quiet "Oh!" but Jimmy didn't dare do anything else. The siren curled around himself in the little crevice, cradling the bandana carefully. Knowing the pirate wasn't going to hurt him, right away at least, exhaustion suddenly engulfed him and he fell asleep.

- - -

Tango was confused.

He'd been told that sirens were dangerous. Deadly. Creatures to be reviled and feared. But after his experience with the little yellow feathered siren... It wasn't any of those things. It hadn't fought back when the eel attacked it, at least not very well. Tango didn't see any weapons at all, just cloth and dyes (which brought up the question, dyes and cloth?? Was the siren intelligent enough to weave and make art?? What??). Most confusing of all, it spoke. It ran away the second it saw him. It was afraid. Of Tango.

Tango was frankly very unintimidating. He wasn't big or strong, and he was a bit on the smaller side. He didn't carry any flashy weapons or impressive scars. He didn't look scary. So why did the siren take one look at him and drive itself into a panic attack?? Was the siren even an it? Sirens had to be sort of intelligent to be able to lure sailors in, right? Were they smarter than monsters? Enough to be considered human?

Tango clunked his head against the rock wall and let out a deep, befuddled sigh. All the events from the day were hurting his brain. A quiet whistle suddenly sounded, and Tango froze. It was a few moments before it happened again, and Tango listened, wracking his brain to figure out what the heck the noise was. It was on the seventh or eighth whistle that Tango finally realized they were snores. The siren was snoring. Tango couldn't help a small chuckle, out of genuine surprise that it had fallen asleep. The pirate took that as his cue to leave, and as he tip-toed back to The Tektopian to sleep for the night, he found himself smiling.

Chapter Text

The Guide led the adventurer down, down, ever down, through twists and turns, navigating the seemingly endless labyrinth with practiced ease. At first, the adventurer was grateful for the Guide's assistance, excited even, to explore with a friend. But little by little, as the days passed and time was lost to the ceaseless sounds of footsteps on the hard-packed ice, the adventurer grew bitter. Anger started to creep over his mind, directed at the Guide, who said nothing and answered no questions, only leading the way forward. His fury boiled and broiled, bubbling just under the surface until one day, it burst.

In a sudden fit of rage, the adventurer drew his sword to strike at the Guide's unprotected back. But before the adventurer could touch him, a short, cheerful chime sounded, and a nearby wall of ice split down the middle. The two newly formed walls (door, the adventurer realized) rumbled open, rasping and screeching, to reveal a staircase sloping down into ominous darkness. The adventurer temporarily froze, wracking his brain fearfully to try and remember where this staircase went. The Guide knew, however, and made a delighted chirping noise. He flapped his wings, shot forward, and swiftly disappeared into the gloom, letting out happy chirps as he did so. As soon as he crossed the threshold, the doors started to scrape shut.

The adventurer gathered his courage and dashed through the entryway, just barely avoiding being crushed by the giant, thick, and impenetrable doors. They rasped shut behind him and sealed with a great rumble. The adventurer flinched at the sound, trying to ignore the finality of the noise, then shook himself like a dog, trying to shake off the sudden fear and nerves. He took a long, steadying breath, exhaled lingeringly, and then started down the long, dimly lit, and oddly straightforward staircase. It was one long corridor, with no doorways, halls, or passages along it. It was a strange path to be in a labyrinth, and the adventurer grew ever more uneasy.

It was as if he walked forever, but eventually, the long hall opened up into a cavernous chamber. Against the opposite wall hung a black banner, with a blue flame insignia. Underneath the banner stood a throne made of ice, and on that throne lounged the Dungeon Master, a strange pale creature. His hair blazed blue and seemed to be made of flickering fire. The pupils of his narrowed eyes glowed the same hue (but maybe the narrowness was an illusion, caused by the whites of his eyes being not white, but black). He was clothed in a long black robe, embroidered with silver and blue. Flicking by his feet curled a long, whip-like tail tipped by a flame the same shade as his hair.

On top of the throne crouched none other than the Guide, preening his yellow wings comfortably. The adventurer felt a stab of betrayal at the Guide's relaxed nature in the lair of the Dungeon Master. The Guide had never been so relaxed around the adventurer. In his anger, the adventurer forgot about his betrayal attempt, as well as any caution. He burst into the throne room, shouting wordless anger at the Guide. The Dungeon Master slowly turned his head and looked at the adventurer, his eerie black-and-blue eyes never blinking. He opened a mouth filled with sharp teeth and scowled at the adventurer. Then, the Dungeon Master started to speak, his voice raspy and filled with controlled rage.

"Oh yes, go ahead. Rant about how my Guide wronged you, how he betrayed you. You, who dared try and do him harm." With every word, his hair flared brighter. Soon, it was glowing brighter than a bonfire. The adventurer trembled at the raw fury in the Dungeon Master's voice, the sword and shield clattering nervously in his grip. His bravado was shattered by the Dungeon Master's display of rage, and he turned to the Guide, reaching out his arms and pleading. The Guide spared him a glance, eyes as impassive as ever, then turned away and went back to preening.

The adventurer shouted angrily, his fear overshadowed again by betrayal. In his fury, he chucked his sword at the Guide. It was the last thing he ever did. The Dungeon Master moved faster than the adventurer thought possible, catching the sword, zipping down to the adventurer's side, and slicing off his head in one clean movement.

- - -

Tango stood for a moment, panting as he tried to corral his breathing into a rhythm. When he'd calmed down, he sighed, his tense shoulders slumping and the fire in his head settling back down into hair. Jimmy hopped down from the throne and hurried to his side, talons click-clacking on the ice floor. He settled a gentle hand on Tango's shoulder, and the Dungeon Master melted into the Guide's soft touch. "How could he hurt you? Why did he even try?" Tango muttered, more wondering aloud than actually seeking an answer. Jimmy shrugged, taking Tango's hand and gently tugging him away from the corpse. Some people will hurt others for no reason. He signed as they walked up the pedestal and settled on the throne.

Tango sighed again but allowed himself to relax. "Well, he's dead now, so he can't hurt you." He stated, twirling a finger and carving a circle in the ice, dropping the circle and the body resting on it down a hole into a deeper part of the dungeon. Jimmy nodded, butting his head gently against Tango's arm.

Are there any other challengers you want me to guide? He asked, reaching into his pocket and taking out a new wick, to replace the burnt one in his lantern. Tango didn't even check, grabbing Jimmy's arm and pulling him down into his lap. "Nope. You're staying right here. Your cuddles are about the only thing keeping me from rampaging right now, so I need you to just stay here and hug me." He mumbled into Jimmy's feathers. Jimmy rolled his eyes, but smiled, petting Tango's hair soothingly. There there, fearsome Dungeon Master. He signed fondly.

Chapter Text

“This is stupid,” Bdubs grumbled to himself, tugging his moss cloak tighter, more out of comfort than chill. Not that it wasn't chilly, it was, it was quite chilly with no sun in the sky, but Bdubs’ cloak was doing an excellent job of warding off the cold, thank you very much. “Urgh, I coulda been sleeping right now but nooooo, I had to open my big mouth and insult the boss. And now I’m stuck on freaking night watch! What the heck, man!!” The Moss Man continued, complaining to nobody, but the chilly night air. It was dark, clouds obscured the only light source, and it was cold, and Bdubs was grumpy. All in all, it was shaping up to be a terrible night.

Then, something shifted. A cloud moved. No, it disappeared entirely. The blanket of clouds that coated the sky vanished, and soft, silver light poured down from the heavens. The oppressive gloom faded at the light’s gentle touch, and everything took on a mystical, silver hue. The light bounced off everything, lighting the darkest corners and gently, ever so gently, coaxing moonflowers to raise their heavy heads, tempting bats to raise their wings, and encouraging the nightlife to wake. Bdubs was already in awe, but something else happened. The light writhed, merging and condensing, and finally consolidated into a human-like form. Silvery gray hair flopped over a pale face, before being restrained by a black headband decorated with intricate gray swirls. Two gray-furred wolf ears sprouted from the hair, twin tufts of softer, pure white fur puffing inside the ears. A black mask stretched into being before even the face, hiding something that didn't even exist yet. Hovering just above the mask were two eyes, mismatched, one a deep brown that was reminiscent of dark oak and the other a bright red. The red eye had a scar running through it, puckered orangey-pink against waxy pale. A gray-green vest covered a slim torso, and inky black pants shrouded thin, lanky legs. Put all together, the being was ethereal. Beautiful. Bdubs’ complaints died on his lips and, for the first time in known memory, he found himself speechless.

The breathtaking being stood for a moment, mismatched eyes blinking as they breathed in crisp, night air. Once they’d gotten accustomed to their human form, they knelt, a long, pale finger tenderly ghosting over a moonflower’s bloom. Their asymmetrical eyes crinkled as if they were smiling under the mask, their wolf-like ears drooped calmly, and their free hand drifted upwards, long fingers closing loosely around the rim of their mask, tugging it down slightly. Bdubs shifted, standing and walking forward to reveal himself, but he tripped over a root hidden in shadow and crashed hard to the ground, muttering a muffled curse. The noisy commotion was enough to perk up the ears of the being, who immediately snapped to their feet in alarm, the hand that was previously pulling down the mask fixing it back into place with tight, clipped movements of barely concealed panic. Bdubs was oblivious to it all, only focusing on struggling to his feet, brushing dirt off his mussed-up clothing, and fixing his hair, which was tangled with twigs and leaves. “Freaking root, tripping me up for no reason! I was just walkin’, is it a crime to walk?!” Bdubs grumbled at the root, which was looking far too pleased with itself to be innocent. Bdubs harrumphed at it before turning his back on it sharply, his cloak swirling very satisfyingly, before stopping short. The being was standing completely still, both eyes trained unblinkingly on Bdubs. The Moss Man felt like those eyes were peeling back all the many layers and staring right into his soul. It was a very unsettling feeling. So, Bdubs did what Bdubs does best when he’s feeling uncomfortable. Break the tension by talking.

“Oh. Wow. Hi there. I’m Bdubs.” The Moss Man greeted, waving at the beautiful being. They stayed frozen for a beat, waiting for something (what, Bdubs didn’t know), then inclined their head ever so slightly. “Etho.” Their voice was, like the light they were bathed in, silvery and unweighted. Etho. Bdubs turned the name over and over in his head. It suited the being. “Etho. Heh. Pretty name for a pretty face.” Bdubs said, a cheeky grin adorning his face. The small amount of skin that he could see of Etho’s pale face suddenly flushed a brilliant red, and those captivating eyes crinkled at the edges. “Why thank you.” They fell silent, their left ear twitching, and it stayed like that for a bit until the being spoke again: “You have twigs in your hair.” Bdubs laughed good-naturedly, reaching and tugging a few out. “Yeah, I do. Tripped on a stupid root. Freaking thing was too dark to see.” Etho’s eyes sparkled humorously. “I’m aware. You were grumbling very loudly about it.” Bdubs chuckled sheepishly, still attempting to tug the twigs out of his hair, but Etho held up a hand. “Leave them, they’re… uh… they’re cute.” They said, managing to sound only a little bit shy. Bdubs’ eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open a little bit as color rose to his cheeks. “S-sorry?” He stammered, used to doing the flirting and flustering, but very new to being on the receiving end. This was not lost on the beautiful stranger, who grew slightly more confident and laughed softly, the sound like bells. “Oh, snappers. You’re worse than Mumbo at taking compliments.” Bdubs snapped his mouth shut, cheeks flushing darker. “Stop it. You’re too pretty to compliment others.” He grumbled half-heartedly. Etho chuckled, a hand rising to brush his bangs out of his eyes. “I can still try, can't I?”

The two chatted a bit, the previous tension now reasonably dissolved enough to converse comfortably. It was shared that Etho was the patron deity of moonlight, hence his likeness to wolves, who adored the silvery substance, and his comfort in it. It was also shared that Bdubs hated the dark, even though he tried hard to cover it up and even though he was the official keeper of the caves, where it was almost constantly dark. But, as he so insistently explained to the ever-so-patient listener Etho, his favorite place was the lush cave, which was littered with glowberries and was not, in fact, dark at all. Etho agreed vehemently with the sentiment of disliking the dark, although the moonlight host’s dislike also extended to small spaces. He liked bright, open air, Etho explained, which was why his very being exuded light. They shared stories of their respective clans, their friends, and their families. Ethos laughed over Bdubs’ uproarious tales of how Tango once accidentally burned Scar and Gem’s forests, and how Impulse had mudslided Shelby as a joke. Bdubs was enthralled by Etho’s story of the great quarrel between Scott and Pearl, and how Martyn had had to step in before they murdered each other, and everyone around them. Then, they got to the love stories. Bdubs shared in whispers how Scar, the Guardian of Nature, was meeting the Sun, Grian, and Etho murmured a rumor that Katherine, the Night Hostess, had taken a fancy to Shelby, the Swamp Keeper. This brought about a short little dispute over who was fond of whom, and which lady had fallen first, as Bdubs had heard the rumor being the other way ‘round, with Shelby taking the fancy to Katherine. Either way, they gossiped and giggled and generally had a lovely time. In a few short hours, it was like they’d known each other forever.

Chapter Text

Hermits In Dresses :D

Chapter Text

Tango Tek dashed between flaming cars, dodging chunks of rubble crashing to earth from the buildings above as a large group of superheroes and supervillains battled furiously with each other. Tango grinned, carefully drawing his camera out of the protective bag slung across his chest. Sweet. It was the famous hero HotGuy against the Watcher, which was certain to garner him a nice fat paycheck. There were multiple others, but Tango focused on the flashy ones. The newspapers loved the flashy ones.

A hand landed on his shoulder, startling the professional hero photographer. “What are you doing here? It’s dangerous!” Sonic Smasher, whom Tango better knew as Impulse, scolded. Tango winced, inwardly cursing his bad luck for getting caught by his roommate and friend, of all heroes. “I know, Smasher. I’m sorry. I need my paycheck.” Impulse huffed, his dark scowl evident even with his mask on, and opened his mouth to continue reprimanding Tango.

Suddenly, a loud cackle sounded from the sky, and a superhero that Tango recognized as Mediator, aka, his third roommate and friend Skizz, was caught by the villain Scarlet Witch and thrown from the sky with a surprised shout, crash-landing into a nearby bank. Impulse cursed, threw a final glare Tango’s way, then dashed over to make sure their buddy was alright. Tango took the opportunity to slink outta there, dashing inside a building and climbing the many flights of stairs to the roof. Impulse couldn't fly, so he’d assume that Tango had left. The photographer felt a small pang of guilt for tricking his friend, but it was for a worthy cause! He needed the money to pay rent, and void knows that being a hero doesn’t pay.

Skizz and Impulse couldn't hold any decent jobs because of their unpredictable schedules, so Tango was really the only one with a stable income. And people paid lots of money for high-quality hero photography. Some of Tango’s pictures had been published in newspapers all across the country. So, all in all, was it really that big of a deal to be at the scene of action if it meant eating well, living well, and being able to provide for his family? Skizz and Impulse risked their lives for people they didn't even know, was it so bad if Tango did the same for those he loved?

From his position on the rooftop, Tango could get a good view of the fights going on. There were so many heroes and villains congregating here, in this one place. It was mind-boggling, but for Tango, it was a goldmine. He could see Skizz (Mediator) and Impulse (Sonic Smasher) were tag-teaming the Scarlet Witch, and snapped a quick photo. Even though they weren't as well-known as HotGuy, Tango knew his buddies would appreciate it. He could see the vigilante Knight battling against the Zombie Queen and her hoard of undead. Starbourne was fighting with the heroes for once, against the Thunderbolt and Fae Queen, as evidenced by the colorful green lightning, pink magic, and galactic plasma flying between the two parties. Tango took his shot and the picture turned out very well, if a bit blurry. That was okay, Starbourne and the Fae Queen were popular figures of the superpowered community, so their pictures would net him a nice little profit.

A flash of yellow caught Tango’s eye, and he shifted his focus to an unfamiliar individual. They were down in the street, ushering screaming people away from the conflict. Tango watched with a sizeable amount of interest as they doubled back to help someone climb over the wreckage. A hero? If so, a strange one. They weren't fighting against the villains, they were trying to save the civilians. They watched and assisted, and once all the people had gotten out of the way, they spread golden-yellow wings and leapt into the air.

Tango watched them, suddenly breathless as they coasted higher and higher. They made quite an impressive sight, surrounded by flashy powers and swirling colors, their simplicity shone like the sun against the bright blue sky. Tango, almost unconsciously, snapped a picture. He looked at it, mulling it over. It probably wasn't going to get him much. If even Tango didn't know who this guy was, they probably weren't well known at all. It was a waste of film. But… it had turned out so well. It was a waste to trash it. Tango felt like he should keep it.

A high, unhinged cackle from behind him caused him to whirl around, instinctively switching back to camera mode. Unnoticed by him, the Scarlet Witch had circled around the building. Sonic Smasher and Mediator had followed her, and Tango winced as he made eye contact with Impulse again. The hero gave him an impressive death glare. Scarlet Witch landed on the rooftop, causing a sharp pang of fear to rush through Tango. Any other villain and he might have been ignored, but the Witch was unpredictable and crazy. It was never safe to be around her. With that in mind, Tango took a nervous step backwards, and accidentally kicked a pebble, sending it clattering off the roof.

Scarlet Witch snapped her gaze to him, a large, terrifying grin spreading across her face. “Well well, what do we have here?” She sang, her red eyes gazing at him with horrifying glee. Tango gulped, eyeing her uneasily. “I’m- I’m just a photographer ma’am.” He stammered. Behind her, Mediator and Sonic Smasher were frozen in fear, waiting to see what she would do with him. The tiny part of Tango that wasn't swamped in fear was shouting at them to take the shot, catch her off guard, take the attention away from me! Scarlet Witch seemed to realize the source of the heroes’ pause, and grinned maniacally. “Make sure to get a nice picture of the ground then, mister photographer! It’ll be the last thing you ever see.” She sang, flicking her hand and sending him stumbling over the edge of the roof.

Tango screamed when his foot fell into empty air, and flapped his arms furiously, but it was no use. He lost the fight against gravity and balance, and his scream was echoed by Skizz and Impulse, overshadowing the Witch’s gleeful, cackling laughter.

The wind rushed by his face as he writhed in midair, mouth open and yell ripped away as it left his lips. He’d left all his organs up on the roof, and his body felt cavernously empty as he hurtled towards the ground, gravity an unforgiving pull on his body. He caught glimpses of himself in the reflective glass panes of the skyscraper. Somehow, he found himself staring at the rapidly approaching concrete. Tango closed his eyes and screamed his throat hoarse, terror engulfing his conscious mind.

Then, strong, gentle arms encircled his waist and cradled his head, halting his fall with an unsettling jerk. Tango’s voice petered off in shock as his eyes opened, focusing on brown leather rubbing against his bare arms and gentle pressure supporting his body. Warm brown eyes peered worridly down at him, and soft-looking yellow wings powerfully beat the air behind his savior. Tango’s savior landed on the ground with a surprisingly small jostle, and those strong arms gently lowered him to the ground. Tango gaped up at the beautiful man. “Th-ank you-?” He managed, his mouth dry and his voice hoarse.

The beautiful man sighed in relief, his wings folding up behind him. “Whew, you aren’t dead. I was worried for a second there.” He knelt, then reached out and brushed a smear of dirt off Tango’s cheek. Tango caught his wrist, searching those warm brown eyes for familiarity. “Who-?” His savior smiled kindly, eyes crinkling adorably at the edges. “You can call me Canary. What may I call you?” He answered and asked. He had freckles, and a dimple in his left cheek. Tango wanted to touch that little dimple. “My- my name is Tango Tek. I’m a… a photographer.” He managed. His face was very warm. Maybe he was catching a fever. Canary beamed and held out his hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Tango!” Tango shook it, nodding somewhat dazedly. “L-likewise.”

Canary stood and spread his wings, then leapt into the air and flew off. Tango watched him go, his newly-returned organs doing gymnastics and his stomach filled with fluttery, whispery wingbeats. His face was hot and burning and his heart felt so full that it would surely burst. Oh void, Tango was having a stroke. Completely overcome and overwhelmed and done with absolutely everything at this point, Tango let his poor brain turn off for a little bit.

He hadn't moved from that position when the paramedics and first responders found him. Staring at nothing, face blank and eyes empty, unharmed. They led him to the group of injured/displaced civilians, and he said nothing for hours, not even when Impulse and Skizz sandwiched him in a tight, loud, squeezy hug that was entirely too full of sobbing. Not even when he’d been dragged gently home to their little apartment and swathed in a blanket. Only when he’d been told in no uncertain terms that he needed to sleep, and he was alone, did it hit him. He’d almost died. He’d almost died. For the first time since he’d fallen, Tango’s brain and body finally got their shit together, and Tango curled in on himself and started to cry. Tears of relief. He was thankful. Canary had saved his life. For the rest of it, Tango would never forget him, nor repay him. He had almost died and Canary had saved him. Tango fell asleep, rivulets of salt water drying on his face.

Chapter Text

“Hey, buddy! You free right now? Need a helper!” Impulse narrated to his base at large, reading the text received via Skizz off his comm. Tango, who was nearby helping Impulse with his city, looked up, his tail and pointed ears flicking curiously.

“What does he want?” The blazeborne asked, wandering over to peer at the ping.

Impulse shrugged, tucking the communicator into his back pocket and reaching to tidy up the mess of shulker shells that always cropped up whenever he built. “Not sure, but I’m gonna go find out. You mind working ahead without me?” Impulse asked, stretching behind him to undo the clasps keeping his wings bound.

Tango scoffed, waving his clawed hand. “Not one bit! Go on, go help Skizzie, and let me know if it’s a three-person job.” The blazeborne urged, his tone lightly teasing but sincere. Impulse smiled gratefully at his friend, then spread giant bat wings and shot off into the sky.

It was a very short flight. Impulse could have been called lazy for flying there instead of just walking, but meh. It was fine. Skizz needed him, and that was an appropriate excuse for needlessly flying. Impulse coasted down towards Skizz’s little ‘Crack Ally’, so dubbed by Joel Smallishbeans, and touched down gently a couple of blocks away from the bridge entrance. He tucked his wings and pet Gluestick’s nose in greeting before ascending the bridge in very little time, soon peeking his nose through the arched doorway right under the giant, cyan, warped-vine ‘S’.

“Hey Skizzie! Where are ya, buddy?” Impulse called, cautiously edging into the humble little starter house and absently wondering if it could be considered rude.

“Over here, Dipple-Dop!” Skizz’s voice called from one of the interior rooms, and Impulse abandoned any stray worries about rudeness, following the sound to find its source. He found Skizz in a smaller room adjacent to the central, threshold room. His bedroom, Impulse observed, noting the bed pushed against the wall and the multiple chests.

Skizz himself was smack in the middle of the room, plopped down on the floor, and… Impulse paused. Skizz’s wings were out and spread. Skizz hardly ever spread his wings to their full extent. Impulse often forgot just how big the feathery appendages were, just how much their expanse filled the room. There was something magnificent about them, the sheer size and almost ethereal glow they gave off.

Skizz himself sat in a large pile of shed feathers, his scarred biceps flexing as he sifted his fingers through the feathers, sometimes tugging out one or two that were damaged. The angel noticed Impulse, waving him over with a noise that Impulse could only describe as a shimmer. “Hey! Dipple-Dop! Over here, need your help real quick, m’kay?”

Impulse grinned, already having an idea of what this was about. “Hey! What’s up?” The demon asked, his arrowhead-shaped tail sweeping a space clear of feathers before sitting down next to Skizz.

The angel gestured to his wings, shuffling around so that his back was to Impulse. “It's that time of year, homie buddy! My wingy-things are a-molting! Can't reach the back on my own, so I was hoping you’d…?” He trailed off hopefully, glancing over his shoulder.

Impulse laughed gently and nodded, already knuckle-deep in downy plumage and gently (that was the key, be gentle, or else it’d hurt him) wiggling out a loose feather. Skizz sighed, relief leaking into his voice. Impulse smiled fondly, knowing that the loose feathers had been bugging him. “Sure, buddy, I gotcha.”