Oct 20, 2024
spotted in the wild
can't escape it, no matter where I go.
seen from Germany
seen from Norway
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Spain
seen from South Korea
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Spain
seen from Germany
seen from South Korea
seen from Estonia
seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from Argentina
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from Germany
spotted in the wild
can't escape it, no matter where I go.
feather weather (chap. 3)
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Series Description: Quackity plucks his own feathers for Karl and Sapnap as an expression of love. He doesn’t realize that they don’t see it that way.
Chapter Description: Quackity nests. Or at least, he tries to.
Author’s note: now I’m cursed to post all updates on tumblr. dammit
You can also read on Ao3!
The stress is forcing Quackity to nest more. He’s haunted by what Sapnap said, that birds lose feathers when they’re stressed, and he starts turning his shirts inside out every day before he puts them in the laundry to make sure he’s not leaving behind feathers for Karl to find when he washes their clothes.
He’s already made enough of a mess for Karl. He doesn’t think Karl wants to be reminded that he shares a house with someone he thinks is gross.
He starts nesting in the closet again because it’s the one time he lets his wings out. The closet floor is covered in clothes and blankets and shed feathers that have been bent and crushed under his body weight. But at least they haven’t come looking for him in here yet.
He’s heard the two of them shuffle around the guest bedroom, heard them call his name softly in the house, but he doesn’t answer. In the morning, he appears downstairs and he knows Sapnap and Karl are confused about where he’s ending up each night when it’s not in their bed but he just… he just can’t yet.
After a few nights in the guest bedroom closet though, Quackity’s back is starting to ache and the circles under his eyes have darkened. He’s losing even more feathers now, not even on purpose anymore. He thinks it’s the lack of sleep.
Should he just sleep on the guest bed? But what if Karl’s mad at him for making a mess? And Sapnap is already angry at him. Still. They haven’t talked about it but Quackity has also been avoiding him, too scared of what the confrontation will mean. Maybe if he just kept his wings tucked away? That’s what he usually does when they all sleep in the same bed and it's not so bad. The guest bedroom doesn’t lock though and he knows that Karl and Sapnap still look for him before they go to bed. Though he didn’t hear them last night, so maybe they’ve given up?
Quackity tries to sleep for another half hour before finally giving in and opening the closet door. Just one night can’t hurt. One night for him to recover and sleep and actually enjoy his nest instead of squishing into a space that’s too small for him.
(Maybe it will stop the nightmares he’s been getting of Schlatt screaming at him, saying all the things Karl’s been saying but with the intention to hurt. Waking up in the closet hasn’t helped him snap out of those dreams. If anything, it’s made them worse.)
He drags his things onto the bed, arranging them around himself until there’s a barrier between himself and the world. He tucks his wings behind him, grabs a pillow, and curls himself around it.
He’s just started dozing off when he hears the door creak open.
“There you are. Have you been in here this whole time? I swear I checked in here but I guess I didn’t.” Quackity pokes his head out and catches sight of Karl’s yawn as it muffles the end of his words. Karl stumbles sleepily over and murmurs, “Can I sleep with you?”
He doesn’t wait for Quackity to answer, just tumbles into his nest and latches onto Quackity with purple fingernails.
Quackity knows this is his chance to be forgiven. He should be happy that Karl isn’t recoiling in disgust. He should just be happy that Karl and Sapnap want him to be in their lives at all.
But his nest…
They said they would ask permission. They said his nest was allowed to be his safe place. He still loves Karl, of course he does, but he wasn’t ready to face them yet and he certainly wasn’t ready for it to be in his nest.
He… He…
“No,” Quackity says. Karl blinks up at him, eyes fading from purple to green. Quackity suddenly realizes that it’s been a full two minutes since Karl joined him. He was almost asleep and Quackity woke him up just to tell him this.
“Huh?”
Quackity could take it back. He could. But he can’t stop himself now.
“No, you— you can’t sleep with me. You can’t be in here.” Quackity’s wings twitch under his shirt. Karl’s hands loosen and fall to his sides. Quackity’s stomach twists and he can’t keep his nest here anymore, it’s not safe, not safe, not safe—
“But… But why?” Karl whimpers.
“You just— you—” Quackity wants to say that Karl should have asked but he did. He just didn’t wait for Quackity to answer. He settles on a timid, “You said it was okay for me to say— to say no.”
Karl’s nails are turning black and Quackity can tell it’s a bad thing but how bad?
“W-What do you mean?” Karl asks.
And Quackity loves Karl but he threw away Quackity’s feathers and called him gross and damaged and said Sapnap didn’t know where Quackity’s wings had been like he hasn’t tried to tell them both so many times how much Schlatt hurt him and how he was trying to be better and Quackity is sick of being hurt. They said they would ask permission to enter his nest. His nest is supposed to be safe.
“You can’t stay here!” Quackity yells. Karl flinches back. Quackity watches as his eyes fill with tears until they spill dark blue over his cheeks.
Quackity opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Karl is already scrambling out of the bed and running out of the room.
Quackity stares at the door for a second, two seconds, before he takes a breath. Then he starts ripping his nest apart.
Clothes scatter on the ground. Blankets tangle in his violent hands and feathers fall, still dirtying the sheets from when he had his wings out in the closet. The soft walls of his nest are torn down until there’s no safety or comfort left for him to find.
It takes everything out of him and as he looks around the room, he realizes Schlatt was right. All he does is make a mess. Nesting is a bad, weak thing he does. He should never nest again. He doesn’t deserve it and look at the mess he’s made now.
He’s always talking about how Schlatt hurt him but now he’s the one hurting Karl.
Karl’s hoodie is on the ground, taunting Quackity. He grasps it and collapses in the corner of the room, huddling there on the floor and burying his face in the fabric. He finally starts to cry.
He’s sobbing so hard he feels he might make himself sick with it. His heaves are so loud that he almost doesn’t hear the door crash open but the crack of it hitting the opposite wall is practically deafening.
“Quackity!” Sapnap roars. Quackity’s head jerks up and oh god, oh god, Sapnap’s eyes are on fire, his hands are literally on fire, fuck fuck fuck—- “Why is Karl crying?” Sapnap demands and fear strikes through Quackity’s whole body.
As soon as Quackity stands, Sapnap’s blazing eyes snap towards him, having missed him where he was huddled low behind the bed. There’s nowhere for Quackity to go. Sapnap’s standing right in front of the exit and now Quackity can see where he burned a handprint into the door, oh fuck—
Quackity scrambles for the closet, slamming the door behind himself. He can hear Sapnap’s footsteps coming closer. He can feel the heat even through the door or maybe he’s imagining it but he’s sure, he’s sure—
He’s sure Sapnap’s going to hurt him in return for how he hurt Karl.
He’s hyperventilating, there’s not enough air in this tiny closet and doesn’t fire eat away oxygen and oh god, maybe he’ll suffocate in here before Sapnap even gets to him—
The closet door is ripped open, the inside lit up with the Sapnap’s flames, and in his panic to get away, Quackity trips backwards. He falls against the wall of the closet and slides down, hands out in front of himself like that might protect him. He realizes that he hasn’t let go of Karl’s hoodie, now brandished in front of him like a flag of surrender, and he hopes vainly that maybe Sapnap won’t want to ruin Karl’s things and that might buy Quackity a few more seconds.
“Quackity, what did you—” Sapnap’s bellow suddenly drops away. The flames die and the closet is sunk into low light from the room. “Quackity, are you… are you crying?” Sapnap crouches down. Another flame appears in his palm, this time soft and small as candlelight. It doesn’t flare up around his entire hand, around his knuckles, like it was before but Quackity cowers from it anyway. Sapnap takes a look around the space now barely illuminated. “Why are there so many feathers in here? Have… have you been sleeping in here?”
Quackity’s jaw works but no words come out. Sapnap leans closer and so does his flame. A horrifying whimper escapes Quackity. Sapnap freezes. And then the words finally rise up Quackity’s throat.
“Please— Please, Sap— Sapnap, please don’t, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to and I— I know that doesn’t matter because I hurt him but please— please just— just not my wings. My feathers, please, I—”
“Quackity, baby, please just calm down.” Sapnap reaches for him and Quackity squeezes his eyes shut. But when Sapnap’s palm cups his cheek, his skin is warm, not burning. Quackity’s eyes flutter open and Sapnap’s there smiling at him. It’s tentative, like he’s approaching a wild animal, but it’s there. “There you are. Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry I yelled. Why don’t you come out of here and we can talk about it, alright?”
“Okay,” Quackity croaks but he doesn’t feel like he has much of a choice.
He follows Sapnap into the guest bedroom, still clutching Karl’s hoodie. Sapnap’s gaze softens at that. They sit together on the bed, knees just brushing each other. Quackity keeps his eyes downcast in deference and so he can see Sapnap’s hands.
Sapnap gestures to Karl’s hoodie. “Have you been nesting?” Quackity swallows and nods. Sapnap waits for a moment but, realizing Quackity isn’t going to add anything else, asks, “Have you been nesting in the closet this whole time? We’ve been looking for you at night. I know I checked in here.”
Quackity’s having a hard time discerning Sapnap’s tone but at this point, telling the truth is probably the best thing he can do. “I— I know. I heard you.”
Sapnap sighs and Quackity winces. “But why, baby? Even if you need to nest, you know you don’t have to do it in the closet, right? Are you hiding from us?”
“I— I—” Quackity searches for an answer that Sapnap will like and that won’t let him be accused of being a liar. “No— well, I mean, kind of? But not because I don’t love you. I do, I do love you guys. It’s just, when I’m nesting, I— I like to have my wings out and Karl…” Quackity’s hands twist in the hoodie. His voice drops to a whisper. “Karl thinks my wings are gross. I— I didn’t want to make more of a mess for him.”
“He shouldn’t have said that the other day,” Sapnap says but he doesn’t say it’s not true. Quackity’s feathers are still in his headband though, so maybe he doesn’t share the sentiment?
But Sapnap will always take Karl’s side. Because he loves Karl more. That’s just a fact, one they all know. He came storming in here to confront Quackity about making Karl cry and why shouldn’t he? Of course he would want to find out what Quackity did and what retribution he deserves in return. Quackity doesn’t know why Sapnap hasn’t burned his gifted feathers to ash already.
Sapnap continues, “Is that what happened? Did he come in here and say something to you? I just want to understand what happened.” His eyes are gentle, seeking, but Quackity can’t help searching them for embers.
“I— I just— You said—” Quackity can’t quite manage his way through it. Now that he’s saying it out loud again, it sounds so stupid. Things went so badly with Karl. Of course they didn’t really mean it when they said they would ask permission to come in his nest, which is fine, obviously it’s fine, except that they told him they would and then Karl came straight into his nest after calling his feathers disgusting and he just doesn’t know how to handle that. “You said it would be different,” Quackity breathes.
Sapnap’s brow creases. “What do you mean?”
Quackity’s voice comes out even quieter, if that’s possible. “Karl didn’t ask.”
“Didn’t ask what?”
“Um, it’s…” Quackity gaze flickers back down to Sapnap’s hands. “Are— are you still mad?”
“No, no, I’m… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come in here like that.” And the apology sounds heartfelt but that wasn’t what Quackity meant. “I was worried about Karl and sometimes I get out of control but I promise I want to hear you out, okay? I love you both and—”
“That’s—” Quackity tenses, realizing he interrupted Sapnap, but no flames ignite. Hesitantly, he goes on, “That’s not what I meant. I— I meant from when we were making dinner together. You were mad.”
There’s a terrible silence where Sapnap thinks. Quackity tries not to breathe. He shouldn’t have brought it up. Why did he think it was a good idea to remind Sapnap that he was mad now, right after he was actually furious? If anything, that would only make him angrier.
“Quackity, baby, I wasn’t… I wasn’t mad. Can I…” Sapnap turns his palm up, inviting. “Can I hold your hand? Please?”
Quackity’s eyes dart from Sapnap’s hand to his face. He doesn’t know why Sapnap’s expression looks pleading. He can feel his hands starting to shake in anticipation of pain.
(At least it’s not his wings. At least— at least—)
Stupidly—god he’s so stupid, why can’t he stop digging his grave deeper—he asks, “But— but you said you weren’t mad.”
“I’m not?” Sapnap’s voice lilts up the end in confusion. His hand is still outstretched.
Quackity doesn’t have a choice. He takes Sapnap’s hand.
His whole body is so tense it’s almost painful. His nerves are wired and he knows that will just make it hurt more. The waiting is the worst part because he knows what’s coming. He just doesn’t know when.
“Darling, you’re shaking,” Sapnap scolds and Quackity doesn’t have it in himself to reply. He doesn’t know what Sapnap wants him to say. Does he want him to beg? Does he want him to try and stop trembling? “I’m sorry, I know this has been really stressful. I just want to understand. I care about you both and I hate that we’ve been fighting.”
Now Quackity understands. Sapnap wanted them to get back on track, back to the important things, back to Karl. He’s just giving Quackity a little extra incentive to answer honestly. Maybe if Quackity’s quick enough, it won’t hurt as much.
“I was— I was nesting,” Quackity stammers and he hopes Sapnap forgives him for it. It’s so hard to think like this, when he doesn’t know when the pain is coming, but he tries to power through. “I was nesting in the closet because— because you’re right. I’ve been stressed. But I wasn’t sleeping well so I came out here and— and I made my nest. Karl, he wanted to come sleep with me and he—” Quackity suppresses the desire to rip his hand away. “He didn’t ask my permission to come into my nest. And you— you said you would! You said you both would ask!” Quackity reminds Sapnap desperately. He just wants Sapnap to believe it was for a reason. “He wasn’t listening to me so I— I yelled at him to go. I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry. I wasn’t trying to hurt him, I swear.” Quackity tries to put all his remorse into his words but they sound more afraid than anything. All he can focus on is the points of contact between their hands.
Sapnap seems to consider Quackity for a moment. This is it. This is where Sapnap reminds Quackity that his actions have consequences and that apologies are only words. It’s the physical things that matter, it always is. It’s his wings, his feathers, his hands, for love.
“You shouldn’t have yelled,” Sapnap says and Quackity’s heart clenches. He thinks he might pass out. “But,” Sapnap goes on, “Karl shouldn’t have done that. He should have asked. He should have listened to you. I don’t know what’s been up with him. He’s been forgetting things and just saying things I would never think he would say. I just—”
Sapnap is barely even talking to Quackity now, seeming to be talking mostly to himself as he spirals into worry about their lover. The words slip unbidden past Quackity’s tongue, “So you’re not going to burn me?”
Sapnap’s gaze snaps to him. “What?”
His intensity throws Quackity off. “I, um,” Quackity stutters but he doesn’t get the chance to finish his thought as Sapnap suddenly becomes aware of how Quackity’s hand still trembles in his own.
“Oh my god, did you think I was going to burn you? Did you think I asked for your hand to burn it?” Sapnap’s voice rises. His palm gets hotter. It always does when he’s passionate about something.
Quackity’s breathing so hard that he’s getting lightheaded. He shouldn’t have asked. Things were going so well. Why does he always ruin things for himself? He tries to answer Sapnap’s questions but nothing comes out but a strained whine.
Sapnap growls and stands. He drops Quackity’s hand, pacing only a few steps away before his fists burst into flames.
Quackity shrieks, scrambling away on the bed. All he sees is that fire, all he feels is the heat singeing away his feathers, but Sapnap isn’t looking at him. Sapnap is staring at his own flames. And— and—
Sapnap has told them before that he could cry molten tears but it only really happened when something truly hurt him. He always tried not to because the heat was so intense that even he could barely stand it, not quite burning his cheeks but leaving sunburned streaks behind. But now lava is dripping down Sapnap’s face as he stares and stares at his hands.
“S-sapnap?” Quackity whispers. His ribs are still tight with fear but his worry wins out. “Don’t— you’re going to burn yourself. Don’t cry.”
Sapnap’s gaze slides over to him slowly, his pupils smoldering like coals. Quackity tries his best not to flinch at the attention.
“Don’t burn myself?” Sapnap scoffs, something derisive and harsh. “You thought I was going to burn you. This barely even hurts and you thought I was going to— to fry your hands to a crisp. Do you know how much more that would hurt you? How painful that would be?”
“I’ve thought about it.” Quackity forces out a laugh. Sapnap doesn’t join him.
“I hate what he did to you.” Sapnap’s flames jump higher and Quackity winces at the rush of heat.
“Okay, okay, calm down—”
“I hate the things he made you think! I hate that even though you’re with us now, it’s like Schlatt is still fucking here with you, and that I can’t figure out how to make him go away. I don’t know how not to make mistakes with you. I feel… I feel like we’re all hurting each other.” Sapnap’s fire abruptly extinguishes. The smell of smoke still hangs in the air and his lava tears start to cool and blacken. He takes a step, then another towards Quackity. Carefully, he reaches out to cup Quackity’s cheek. Quackity leans into it, knowing it won’t burn this time. Sapnap murmurs, “I don’t want to keep hurting you.”
Quackity shrugs. “Love always hurts,” he states because he knows it does.
Sapnap shakes his head. “It shouldn’t.” Quackity isn’t sure how to reply to that so he just shrugs again. Eventually Sapnap sends a searching look around the room and suggests, “How about I help you clean this up, okay? Maybe we can rebuild your nest and then I’ll go if you want me to go.”
“Okay,” Quackity agrees and together they start gathering the clothes and blankets off the ground.
They don’t talk much as Quackity reconstructs his nest. He makes it bigger this time. Just big enough to fit the three of them. The entire time Quackity thinks about whether he wants to invite Sapnap into his nest. Or Karl.
He puts Karl’s hoodie right where he plans to rest his head, fingers tracing over the spiral on the front.
“I think I should apologize,” he says, biting his lip. He turns to Sapnap. “Can… can you come with me?”
“Course, duckling,” Sapnap murmurs.
It takes them a moment to find Karl. He’s not anywhere in the house. It’s only when Quackity glances out the window that he sees him by the flowers. Maybe he was planning on watching the sunset but he’s not on the right side of the house for that. Quackity gets Sapnap’s attention and points outside.
Karl doesn’t look up as they approach. Quackity takes a hesitant seat next to him and Sapnap takes the other side. Karl’s hands are buried in the grass. It looks like there’s dirt under his fingernails.
“Karl?” Karl’s eyes spin with color and then settle on dark blue when they land on Quackity. Quackity swallows. “I— I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry.”
“Oh,” Karl breathes. His eyes widen. “For what?”
Quackity doesn’t know if Karl is teasing him or, or maybe it’s a test? Maybe Karl wants to be sure Quackity is truly repentant. Sapnap’s not giving him any help, looking just as confused.
“For making you cry,” Quackity says and hopes it’s the answer Karl is looking for.
“Oh,” Karl repeats. He blinks and then rubs his hoodie sleeve over his face. It comes away stained blue with his almost dried tears. Quackity thinks he must have been crying out here for a while if any of his tears are still wet. “Huh,” Karl murmurs. His eyes tilt back up to Quackity’s. “Well, that’s okay. I forgive you.”
“You— you do?” An uneasy feeling curdles in Quackity’s gut but the relief at being forgiven overpowers it. Something feels wrong with Karl’s easy acceptance, with the way he had just wiped away his tears when they came out here even though it had been well over an hour since Quackity yelled at him. He gives into the urge to pull Karl into a hug and Karl lets him, patting gently at his back and making soft cooing noises. “Thank you, thank you,” Quackity mutters. Karl just kisses the top of his head and hums. Quackity peeks back up at him. “I want to invite both of you into my nest. If you want.”
Karl doesn’t protest as Quackity pulls him back towards the guest bedroom. Sapnap follows a couple paces behind. The three of them fall into the bed together. Warmth gathers in the hollowed out space and it eases Quackity’s instincts.
“This really is a nest,” Karl giggles, not loud enough to disrupt the quiet atmosphere. His eyes have lightened to yellow, like Quackity’s wings.
Quackity’s pretty sure it’s meant to be a compliment so he just smiles and agrees, “Yeah.”
Sapnap presses his forehead between Quackity’s shoulder blades and rumbles, “Thank you for having us in your nest.”
“Always,” Quackity says and means it. He’s a fast learner and he doesn’t like to make the same mistakes twice.
Besides, this is better. Better for him, better for them, better for his instincts. He forgot how good it felt to sleep next to someone in a space he made for them. It feels like caring for the people he loves. And they want to join him. So in the end, it works out for all of them and isn’t that the best solution?
Who's a nice giant demon meat-eating raven? THAT'S RIGHT, YOU ARE, YOU ARE
Some semi concept art of my character Fizz and his giant demon meat-eating raven named Crowley.
feather weather (chap. 4)
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Series Description: Quackity plucks his own feathers for Karl and Sapnap as an expression of love. He doesn’t realize that they don’t see it that way.
Chapter Description: Secrets are revealed. All of them.
Author’s Note: Last full chapter! Final chapter is going to be a shorter sweeter little epilogue :)
Read it on Ao3!
After that, things improve. But not enough. There’s still something nagging, just something off with their relationship. Quackity’s too nervous to bring it up to either of them in person so instead he just lets it linger.
Karl’s not avoiding him. Quackity’s almost sure he’s not. He’s just never around when Quackity is trying to look for him. He wanted to spend more time with him, maybe try and smooth things over, but Karl hasn’t been home much. A concerning amount actually.
Quackity’s not sure where he goes but a few nights ago he saw Karl wander into the bathroom and never come out. When he pulled open the door, curiosity getting the best of him hours later, Karl wasn’t there. He stumbled into their bed that night, clothes damp and hair smelling like the sea. Every time Quackity sees him, his eyes seem darker, his fingernails stained. None of those are good signs when it comes to Karl.
Quackity wonders if Karl is falling out of love with him.
There haven’t been any more remarks on his wings or his feathers. Quackity has left one or two other gifts and they’ve disappeared so he thought that maybe Karl accepted them, finally finally.
Until he found all his feathers in Sapnap’s drawer, hidden away there like he knew that Quackity wanted to think that Karl had taken them instead. Quackity doesn’t know what happens if Sapnap still loves him and Karl doesn’t. Do they stay together while him and Karl break up? Would Sapnap even want that? Would Quackity be able to take that?
He doesn’t think he can. He thinks it might break him to have something he loves so close in his reach, to be treated like a consolation prize, like a side piece.
In a sick way, he almost misses Schlatt. At least then he always knew what was expected of him. At least if he was doing something wrong, someone told him.
Karl’s gone again today. After a quiet dinner, Sapnap draws Quackity over to the couch with him.
“Wanna nap?” he murmurs. “I’m kind of tired and, you know, we’ve been spending a lot of time alone.”
Quackity nods. They cuddle up together on the couch. Quackity buries his face in Sapnap’s chest and warm hands creep up under the hem of his shirt. Sapnap hums and heat radiates from his fingertips.
Sapnap’s knuckles brush against Quackity’s wings. Quackity shivers.
“You’re still losing feathers, birdie,” Sapnap sighs.
“You’ve been keeping them,” Quackity says, not accusing just stating a fact.
One of Sapnap’s hands strokes through his feathers under his shirt. “I am,” he doesn’t try to disagree. “They’re beautiful. I just wish I could see them on you instead of when you lose them.”
“‘m not losing them,” Quackity mumbles because he’s not. People don’t lose things on purpose.
“Okay,” Sapnap agrees but it’s clear he’s just saying it to placate Quackity.
They sit in silence for a few more moments before Quackity ventures, “Has… has Karl seen them, you think? Did you take them because you didn’t think Karl would want to… to see them?”
He’s not sure which answer he’d prefer. On one hand, he trusts Sapnap’s judgement more than his own. If Sapnap doesn’t think Karl should be exposed to his dirty feathers then maybe Quackity should just leave it be. On the other hand, he almost wishes Karl would just say it to his face. If he doesn’t reciprocate, that’s fine but Quackity wishes he wouldn’t make it about his feathers, one of the only parts of himself he thought he could take pride in.
“I…” Sapnap hesitates. He pulls Quackity a little closer. “I’m not hiding them because I don’t want to see them. I just… I don’t want Karl to say something so… so inconsiderate to you again. I don’t want either of your feelings to be hurt.”
Quackity swallows. He feels Sapnap’s protectiveness of him in the way he lowers his voice, in the way his fingers curl against Quackity’s spine. It kind of makes him want to cry. Karl is the one who’s supposed to give love easily. Everyone knows it. It’s sweet, sunny Karl who loves like it costs nothing and Sapnap whose fiery blaze has only been tamed by Karl.
What does it say about Quackity that Karl doesn’t love him anymore? That somehow he had Karl’s love and lost it?
And even though it hasn’t happened yet, Quackity doesn’t know how Sapnap’s feelings don’t follow Karl’s soon enough.
“He doesn’t like my wings,” Quackity mutters instead of saying Karl has fallen out of love with him.
“He… Honestly Quackity, I just don’t know,” Sapnap murmurs, voice laced in a special kind of misery. “I don’t want to lie to you when obviously it’s been a problem. He seemed fine with it when you had us in your nest the first time and I don’t know why… It’s so unlike him to say things like that, especially about you.”
Especially about him. Quackity’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean. Karl’s gentle with everyone. He’s only special because he’s lost that privilege.
Quackity confesses, “I just feel like I’m not doing enough.” He manages to keep the fear out of his voice. He doesn’t want to hear Sapnap confirm what he’s already begun to decide.
“You are, you are, darling,” Sapnap insists because he’s too kind. He nuzzles into Quackity’s head. “I don’t know what else you could be doing.”
But I do, Quackity thinks. He knows how he could do more. There’s only one more option left.
It’s just a matter of facing his fear now.
-
Once Sapnap falls asleep, Quackity extricates himself from his lover’s embrace, listening for the deep breaths that mean he’s sound asleep. He can’t help the cold feeling of guilt that runs through him. He knows Sapnap likes his wings, wants to see them even, and now he’s going to ruin them. But Sapnap isn’t the one he has to convince to love him again.
He plucks a feather, hardly even feeling the sting of it anymore. He leaves it next to Sapnap, a gesture begging for forgiveness this time instead of love.
Then he grabs a pair of scissors from the kitchen.
He needs them if he’s going to do this.
He needs them to clip his wings.
His hands shake as he walks back to their bedroom. It’s not even the pain that he’s dreading. He’s used to pain by now. It’s the after effects that scare him.
Birds are supposed to fly. Even though he was never the best at it, even though he doesn’t do it often, he’s meant to fly. To go against his instincts so deliberately like this makes his chest hurt, his eyes sting.
He swore he would never do this. When he was with Schlatt, that’s where he drew the line. And Schlatt… Schlatt wanted him to do it. Plucked primaries were enough for a while but later on, Schlatt would run his fingers through Quackity’s feathers and say things like Don’t you want to stay with me? and You wouldn’t want to fly away if you really loved me and I could do it for you. Let me clip them.
Quackity never let him. He never let Schlatt come near his wings like that, always kept them tucked away when Schlatt had a little too much to drink. He just couldn’t stand the thought of losing that part of himself, of losing the whole sky.
He’s always taken good care of his feathers. If he clipped them, he would be aware of it every day. He would see it in the mirror, feel the ragged ends against the small of his back, get goosebumps from a draft that wasn’t supposed to be there. He would know that he did this to himself.
Quackity pushes open the door to their room, shutting it quietly behind himself. He sits on the bed. He tries to take a moment to collect himself.
The scissors gleam in the light of the setting sun. The point looks deadly. Quackity would almost rather stab it through his heart than start hacking away his feathers.
He’s doing this for Karl. Karl hates his wings. Quackity can’t get rid of them entirely so he’s going to do the next best thing.
Then Karl won’t need to make comments about his feathers. Karl won’t have to think about his disgusting wings or wonder what Quackity’s using them for. Then Karl will realize how much Quackity was willing to sacrifice to stay with them.
To stay with them here.
Grounded.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Quackity mutters to himself.
He shrugs his wings out of the slits in the back of his shirt before he can second guess himself. He has to do this quickly before he has a panic attack and he’s already getting there. His breaths are coming faster and faster. His hands won’t stop shaking. He wonders if that will make it hard to do what he has to but in the end, it doesn’t matter that much. It doesn’t matter how much incidental damage he does as long as he clips the important ones.
The fear is making Quackity’s throat close. He tastes blood.
He can’t— But he has to— For Karl, he has to do this for Karl—
Quackity grabs a fistful of feathers and drags his wing out in front of himself, pulling past the involuntary flinch away. His own wing strains against him. He opens the scissors. Just a quick couple snips and it will be over—
Someone gasps.
Quackity’s grip on his feathers slips and his wings flare out to his sides, like even they can’t stand to be near him. He looks up to see Karl in the doorway.
“Karl?”
He wasn’t supposed to be home yet. He’s been gone all day. This was supposed to be a surprise for him but maybe, maybe now that Karl is here—
“W-what? You… your…” Quackity squirms under Karl’s gaze. He’s suddenly self conscious of his body. He doesn’t know why Karl’s looking at him like that, bewildered and almost… scared. It’s hard to tell from across the room but it looks like his eyes are turning red.
His gaze locks on the scissors in Quackity’s hand.
“I’m going to clean everything up after!” Quackity blurts out.
Why did he grab the kitchen scissors, the ones they use for their food? Karl already thinks his wings are unclean. Of course Karl thinks it’s disgusting that he’s using their scissors for this. Of course he wouldn’t want it to be in their bed. But Quackity can’t bring himself to go somewhere else now. He won’t be able to psyche himself up again. It’s hard enough now that he's been interrupted.
“No, no, your… your wings,” Karl whispers. Quackity can’t tell if it’s awe or terror in his voice. But it’s not hard to guess from the context, from everything Karl has said before.
Quackity pulls his wings behind his back. “Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I know you don’t like them. I’m— I’m trying to fix them.” His words tremble at the end. Fix them, that’s what he’s calling it now. Fuck.
“But you’re… what?” Karl takes a couple steps towards him. His footsteps barely make a sound. He reaches out a hand towards the scissors. His question is almost inaudible as he asks, “With… with this?”
“Yeah, of course.” Quackity swallows and tries to keep his voice even. “I— I need them to clip my wings.”
Karl’s eyes widen. “To… to clip your…” His hand is still outstretched towards the scissors.
All of a sudden, it clicks in Quackity’s mind. Of course that’s what Karl wants. What Schlatt always wanted from him. The ultimate display of trust.
Quackity flips the scissors in his hand and starts to hand them to Karl. He forces the words out.
“You can do it if you want, Karl. I don’t mind.”
Karl instantly recoils. “What? No!” he practically spits out.
Quackity flinches back in response, hand spasming on the blade of the scissors hard enough to hurt but not to break skin. He thought he had it right. He thought that’s what Karl wanted.
It doesn’t matter anymore. This can make up for Quackity’s mistakes. He can’t put it off any longer or he might never follow through.
“I have to do this then,” he breathes, mostly to himself. He doesn’t have enough air to make his voice any louder.
In one motion, he fixes his hold on the scissors and brings a wing out in front of himself again. He digs his fingers into his feathers and puts them between the blades. He braces himself as he gets ready to clip them off.
“NO!” Karl screeches. Quackity jerks up to look at him but Karl’s already got a hand on his wrist, pulling the scissors away from his wings. His eyes are wild and bleeding, bleeding red. Quackity hears him take a deep breathe in before he screams, “SAPNAP!” then quieter, like he ripped his throat, begging this time, “Sapnap, Sapnap, please come—”
Quackity thinks he might be crying. He made Karl cry again.
Sapnap barges into the room, frantically looking around until his eyes fix on the two of them. “What is it?! What’s going on?”
“He— he— he—” Karl babbles. “He was gonna— he has—”
Then Sapnap’s gaze lands on the scissors.
“What… what are those for? Quackity?”
Quackity freezes. This is the worst thing that could have happened. Karl is crying and Sapnap, fuck, Sapnap liked getting his feathers and wanted to see his wings. Does he think Quackity is disrespecting him? And he still doesn’t understand why Karl is crying and Karl is still clutching at his wrist, nails digging in, and he won’t let go even as he desperately looks to Sapnap for help.
Quackity opens his mouth but no words come out. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand what’s happening.
He feels trembling fingers prying his hand open. He glances down to see Karl trying to take the scissors from him.
“It’s okay, just— just let me take these, okay? Baby, please let go,” Karl murmurs, throat ragged.
Quackity can’t help the way his hold on them tightens. Karl’s following whimper as he can’t get the scissors from Quackity’s grasp digs into his heart. “But I… I’m…” Quackity pleads, trying to meet Karl’s eyes but it’s hard through both of their blurred tears. “I’m doing this for you. D-don’t you want me to do this?”
“No, no, no,” Karl weeps, shaking his head. The tears are starting to stream down his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I— I don’t want this so please— please just give me the scissors, please, baby, please—”
Quackity finally lets Karl slip the scissors out of his hands. He hears Karl’s shaky exhale and watches him hand them back to Sapnap. He doesn’t see what Sapnap does with them because Karl pulls him into a fierce hug, sobbing into the side of his neck.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Karl whispers over and over. He sounds relieved and Quackity can’t help but feel that too. His wings aren’t clipped. He’s not holding the scissors anymore. Maybe he doesn’t have to do this. Maybe Karl will love him anyway. He clearly didn’t want this to happen.
The relief is mixed with unsettled confusion. He’s not sure where they go from here. He wants to ask what happens next, wants to ask Karl why he stopped him, wants to tell Karl how grateful he is and that if there’s something else, he’d be more than willing to do it.
His wings rustle behind him and he feels Karl peak out over his shoulder.
“Sapnap…” Karl murmurs. “Sap, he has wings.”
All Quackity’s thoughts grind to a halt. He locks eyes with Sapnap and sees his own panic reflected there.
“You’re like an angel,” Karl says. Not says, repeats. Quackity’s stomach twists.
It’s the same thing Karl said the first time he saw Quackity’s wings. The same intonation, the same cadence, everything exactly the same like the moment is playing out before him again. It’s like Karl has never seen his wings before. Like he didn’t even know Quackity had wings.
“Karl, I— I know he has wings.” Sapnap walks over to them. He must have put the scissors down somewhere because he’s not holding them anymore. He positions himself in front of Quackity, one hand coming to rest at the small of Karl’s back.
“You do?” Karl turns to look at Sapnap but he keeps his arms slung around Quackity. “How’d you… Did you guess it from the feathers?” He lets out the tiniest gasp, gazing at Quackity. “They’re your feathers, aren’t they? They’ve been your feathers this whole time.”
Quackity tries to send Sapnap a beseeching look that asks if he can figure out what Karl is talking about but all Sapnap manages is a broken, “K-Karl—”
“They’re really beautiful,” Karl mutters over Sapnap’s stutter, brushing a hand through the feathers.
Quackity flinches. “Karl, you— you don’t have to do that. You don’t have to touch them.”
Karl pulls his hand back, eyes guilty. “You— you don’t want me to? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“No, no, I just… I know you think my feathers are gross,” Quackity confesses, strangling out the words.
Karl’s brow furrows, his eyes swimming with color. “I don’t,” he insists. “I… Did I… I mentioned something about the feathers before, didn’t I? But I didn’t know they were yours, Q. I wouldn’t have said those kinds of things if I knew they were your feathers. Obviously that changes things.”
“But I… you…” Quackity hears Karl’s words but can’t put any meaning behind them. Karl states everything like it’s fact but none of it makes sense. He was so sure that he was doing the right thing, that Karl hated that part of him, but his reasoning is crumbling before him. Quackity tries one more time. “But I… I was clipping my wings for you.”
Tears start to well in Karl’s eyes again. “Why would you do that? Why would you think I want this? I didn’t even know you had wings until now.”
Heat rushes over them like the whoosh of a fire being lit as Sapnap interjects, “You were trying to clip your wings?!”
“Wait, Sap, just… wait a second, okay?” Quackity can’t focus on both of them at once and all he hears is Karl’s voice repeating didn’t even know you had wings didn’t even know you had wings. “Karl. Karl, I showed you my wings months ago. I had you in my nest? You said… you said you loved me?” Quackity’s voice trails off, hope fading with it. He searches Karl’s face for recognition and finds none. “You remember that, don’t you? Tell me you remember.”
“I… I don’t…” Karl hesitates. He pulls back from Quackity, hands fiddling, nails staining themselves black. His hiccuping breaths are starting to sound like the tick of a clock. “I’m trying to remember, duckling. I promise I am.” Karl’s eyes suddenly widen, almost glowing. “Duckling! I called you that! I— you showed us your wings and I called you that. We asked permission to come into your nest. R-right?”
Quackity nods and then Karl’s face falls. “I went into your nest without permission,” he realizes. “And I said those terrible things about your feathers. I… I had no idea. I can’t believe I forgot you had wings…” He looks away from Quackity, gaze fixed on some far off point as he mutters to himself, “I didn’t realize it was this bad already. I… I thought I was remembering enough. I thought I had more time.”
“Karl, what are you talking about?” Quackity’s nerves get the better of him.
Karl’s gaze flickers towards him. He cards an anxious hand through his hair. His eyes and nails blink from black to white and black, fast enough that Quackity isn’t sure if he’s imagining it or not. “I thought I had more time,” he murmurs. “I didn’t stray from the path. I didn’t stray…”
“Karl, please.” Quackity takes his hand gently. He watches Karl’s nails settle on a dark shade of gray. “What’s going on?”
Karl holds his gaze for only a moment before slumping into him with a defeated whimper, forehead pressed against Quackity’s shoulder as his breaths caress his collarbone. “Even if I tell you, I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know if it can be fixed. What if there’s even worse consequences for telling you?”
There’s silence in the room. Quackity doesn’t know how to reassure Karl for this invisible, unnamed threat. He sees Sapnap run his hand up and down Karl’s spine as they wait for him to say more.
Just when Quackity thinks he can’t take it anymore, Karl squeezes his hand and mutters, “No. No, what could be worse than you thinking I wanted you to hurt yourself? That’s… I can’t let this happen again.”
He straightens and pulls Quackity into a kiss. It’s over before Quackity gets the chance to register it and Karl whispers against his lips, “You know I love you, right? I love you so much, Quackity. I wouldn’t leave you if I didn’t have to.” He turns towards Sapnap and kisses him too. “I wouldn’t leave either of you.”
Sapnap lists after him as he pulls away and pleads, “Leave? Karl, you have to tell us what’s going on.”
In between this moment and the next, Quackity is more aware than he’s ever been of the clock in their room, ticking away. Was it always so loud?
“I’m losing my memory.” Quackity is close enough to hear Karl swallow, to see the way his nails spasm into his own skin as he stares at the ground. “I’m losing my memory because—I know this sounds crazy but you just have to believe me, okay?—because I’ve been traveling through time. Every time I go, I lose a little more.” Karl’s voice grows more frantic. “Sometimes I remember more. Sometimes I remember everything! And then I realize how much I’m forgetting and it’s… I’m… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m so scared I’m going to lose you,” Karl confesses. “What if this is the start of me forgetting both of you?”
“You’re… you're a time traveler?” Quackity confirms. They always knew Karl was something other than human. Maybe the color that’s always bled through him has been bits of other timelines seeping into theirs through him. Maybe that explains the way Karl’s pulse keeps time like a ticking clock.
The sudden disappearances, the reappearances in places he shouldn’t be, the way he wanders off in mind and in space, maybe this explains it all.
“You’re a time traveler,” Quackity repeats, a fact this time. And because he’s self-centered and needs to know and where did Sapnap put those scissors and, “And you forgot I had wings. You— you don’t want me to get rid of them.”
Karl shakes his head and Sapnap’s eyes burn into Quackity. “Speaking of, we have to talk about what just happened,” he says. “And Karl, baby, I promise we’re going to talk about this more later and figure it out but—”
“No, yeah, you’re right, we need to focus on Quackity.”
Quackity stiffens as they look at him, something like pity and sadness on their faces. “Um, no, we don’t,” Quackity protests. “Now I know why you said those things, Karl. And now you remember that I have wings. And you said no clipping so I’ll— I’ll just keep leaving feathers for both of you. If you want that.”
“Leaving… feathers for us?” Karl sounds out the phrase in his mouth. “What’s that mean? Did I forget?” He glances at Sapnap for an answer, assuming that Sapnap would know which he should, he really should because he accepted all of Quackity’s feathers, but Sapnap is staring at Quackity. He doesn’t look happy.
Sapnap narrows his eyes. “You said you were molting.”
Quackity’s feathers bristle, fluffing up behind him. He’s not used to having them out. He forgot how expressive they could be. “No, no, I didn’t. You said I was molting. Which is fucking rude, by the way.” He looks away, trying to hide his hurt under anger. He thought they were past this. Is Sapnap joking about those being molt feathers? It doesn't feel like a good time for pointed jokes.
“It’s rude to think you’re molting?” Karl asks, nose wrinkling. Quackity softens. Karl, at least, wouldn’t know what it means to assume those were molt feathers. He couldn’t even tell they were hybrid feathers instead of chicken feathers. Of course he wouldn’t know the difference between molt feathers and the ones he left for them.
“It’s not rude to think I’m molting,” Quackity corrects. “It’s— That’s not—” He tries to word it correctly. He meets Sapnap’s eyes. “You said you thought they were pretty. That’s what— you said it to me more than once.”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything,” Sapnap questions. Quackity growls. His wings rustle.
“If I was molting, the feathers would be like, old or damaged or something,” Quackity explains through gritted teeth. “That’s why birds molt. Obviously I wasn’t picking ugly feathers for you guys. I’m picking the best ones. So when you say that you think I left those feathers during a molt, it’s just, kind of…” Quackity’s wings droop, betraying him. “It makes me think you don’t actually think they’re pretty or whatever. And— and I— nevermind,” he scowls.
He’s so ungrateful. He’s basically doing the bare minimum right now and here he is complaining about how Karl and Sapnap are treating him while he’s doing it. It’s not even like they’re treating him badly. They don’t want him to clip his wings. He should be ecstatic. He should be on his knees thanking them.
“And what?” Sapnap presses. The room is starting to border on too warm as heat radiates from him.
Quackity shakes his head. “Forget I said anything.”
“You can tell us,” Karl insists, eyes wide and guileless and looking like he thinks Quackity not telling them means he doesn’t trust them when really he’s trying not to be a selfish and ungrateful fiance.
“It’s just…” Quackity sighs. His fingers twitch. “Molting feathers just fall out. So it feels like you’re dismissing all the effort I’m putting in to give you those feathers. I mean, it’s not… it’s not the most comfortable thing, you know.” He gives a short laugh. Neither of them laugh with him. Anxiety burgeons in his chest. He rushes out, “I know that’s the point. It’s not supposed to be comfortable. It’s supposed to hurt, obviously, that’s how you know I’m trying but—”
“Love always hurts,” Sapnap murmurs. Karl spins to look at Sapnap, mouth opening in a question, but Quackity just nods.
“Right, yeah. I know,” Quackity agrees. He thinks about reaching behind himself a tugging out a fistful of feathers, the sting of it and the satisfaction of doing what he’s supposed to.
“No, I’m not saying that. That’s what you said. Before when you thought I was going to…” Sapnap swallows, looking sick. Confusion swirls thick again in Quackity’s gut. Why can’t he get anything right? “When you thought I was going to burn you, you said that love always hurts. What does that mean?”
“I mean, I… I think it’s pretty obvious.”
Quackity is suddenly less sure of himself. It’s moments like this that he hates having his wings out, so exposed and vulnerable and constantly drawing attention to themselves as they rustle about. He can almost feel Sapnap and Karl’s eyes gravitating towards the bare patches where there used to be feathers. Where there still could be if he hadn’t plucked them.
“Why do you say that?” Karl asks, his voice noticeably getting tighter as he tries to suppress more tears. “Because I said all those horrible things? I’m so sorry, Quackity, I never wanted to hurt you like that and I don’t know how to make it better—”
Quackity blinks at him. “No, not hurt like that. Like, actually hurt. Like physically because… you know.” He doesn’t finish the statement.
“We don’t know. We don’t know, Quackity. You have to tell us.” Quackity flinches at the intensity in Sapnap’s voice. It’s less forgiving than he’s ever heard it, no room to argument or refusal.
“Sorry,” Quackity apologizes on instinct. “Sorry, don’t be mad. Do you want me to…?” He levers one of his wings out in front of himself and before either of them can say anything else, he yanks out a feather.
He barely even feels the pain of it, too caught up in the adrenaline of everything that has happened. Distantly, he hears Karl gasps. He holds the feather out to Sapnap. “Here. I love you,” he adds out loud even though he knows the feather means more than his words.
Sapnap accepts it. His hand shakes as he takes the feather from Quackity. “You’ve been plucking your feathers,” Sapnap breathes. “This whole you’ve been… and I’ve… All those feathers…”
“Has there been a lot of feathers?” Karl whispers to Sapnap but he doesn’t answer.
Sapnap is trembling so much that he’s having a hard time holding onto the feather. Then suddenly the feather ignites. “Shit, shit, sorry,” Sapnap curses. He puts it out almost immediately but only ash remains clutched in the creases of his palm.
When he looks up again, lava tears are creeping down his cheeks.
“Sap?” Quackity asks. He almost reaches out for him before he stops himself.
“Why?” is all Sapnap says in return.
“Sapnap,” Quackity protests weakly. He can see Sapnap’s skin turning red under the lava and he knows it’s his fault.
“Please, Quackity, just… why?”
Quackity wants to cry. “Because I love you.”
“No, no, why would you—” Sapnap scrubs away his tears, lava searing into the back of his hand. His voice is desperate. “That’s not love. Why are you so set on hurting yourself and telling yourself it’s because you love us?”
“Because— because it means more that way! I can be persuasive. I’m manipulative. I’m a smooth talker. I’m a fucking liar, Sapnap!” Quacktiy runs a frantic hand through his hair. His beanie goes with it. He knows he’s getting louder but he can’t help it. “How else would you know I was telling the truth? This is how I prove it to you. I’m telling you I love you. And you took them! Karl threw away my feathers but you kept them so don’t act like you didn’t want me to do it.”
Quackity’s ears ring with the realization that somehow neither of them knew he was plucking those feathers. Neither of them knew. Neither of them wanted him to do it?
“All your feathers were… You were using them to say you loved us?” Karl ventures in Sapnap’s shocked silence. He takes Quackity’s hand gently in his, weaving their fingers together. Some of the tension seeps out of the air as all three of them stare at the way Karl plays with Quackity’s ring.
Quackity nods. “It just… I’m trying to show you how much I care. I care about you more than myself, more than my wings. Doesn’t that mean something? Isn’t that how you’d want your partner to feel?” After a moment of hesitation, he tries to put it into words. “My wings are the best part of me. They’re everything to me. And they’re yours. I’m yours. Completely. Do you understand?”
Karl doesn’t answer any of those questions, just asks, “Why wouldn’t you just… say that then?”
Quackity’s throat feels dry as he croaks out, “Because I wanted you to believe me.” He gives Karl’s hand a distraught squeeze. He wonders if they believe him now.
“Why wouldn’t we just believe you? Do you lie to us?” Karl levels his gaze at him and Quackity feels like he’s being pried open.
“N-no. I try not to.” He doesn’t even sound convincing to himself. It’s like the truth resents him. It never comes out clear and confident like it should.
Karl generously ignores his slip up. “Then why can’t we believe you?”
“Because I’m a liar. I’m a liar, Karl, that’s just who I am. Everyone says it.” And they do. Schlatt said it, Fundy’s said it, hell even Tubbo has said it. Quackity’s deceitful, manipulative, a liar. They’re right, of course. He’s destructive and self-destructive. He’s hurt more people than he wants to name. He’s lashed out. He’s tried to garner power for his own gain and he’d probably do it again.
He doesn’t necessarily regret any of those things. He just regrets that all of those traits make him unlovable. That’s just the sad fact of it.
“You two are so much better than Schlatt,” Quackity continues, softer this time, imploring. “If I wasn’t good enough for him, how could I ever be good enough for you? I never clipped my wings for him but for you, I would. Anything you asked me to do, I would.”
“Then stop hurting yourself, okay?” Karl looks up at him, softer than anything. Behind him, Sapnap wipes away his molten tears, looking like all he wants to do is hold the two of them. “That’s what I want you to do for us. That’s all I want.”
Quackity is about to say something in reply, he’s not sure what, but then his throat starts to close. His eyes sting and, “Oh.” He tries to rub away his tears but he can’t, they’re coming too fast. He sniffles, repeating, “oh,” again, quiet and tiny and scared, and then he fully starts sobbing.
He buries his face in his hands. He feels Karl’s arms go around, hears him cooing softly. Soon Sapnap’s heat is embracing him too.
For the first time in years, he feels safe. He’s safe with them. Finally.
feather weather (chap. 2)
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Series Description: Quackity plucks his own feathers for Karl and Sapnap as an expression of love. He doesn’t realize that they don’t see it that way.
Chapter Description: Quackity’s perfect fantasy comes crashing down when he finds one of his feathers in the trash.
Author’s note: my last post actually got more notes than I expected so alright you got me, here’s another chapter for the tumblr
You can also read on Ao3!
Quackity’s perfect fantasy comes crashing down when he finds one of his feathers in the trash.
He just stares at it for a long time, discarded among tissues and bits of paper in the wastebasket in their room. Tossed away with all the other garbage.
Why is he still surprised, still hurt after all this time? Of course his love is meant to be thrown away. This wasn’t good enough. He isn’t good enough.
Did he take too long to give his feathers to them? But he can’t go back in time now and make sure he was faster. If he could, he would go back to the moment they told him they loved him and yank out his feathers right then, give them handfuls of bloody primaries to prove that he appreciates their kindness, but he can’t go back. He can only try to do better.
He is going to do better. He has to. He’ll prove that he loves them.
Quackity reaches with a shaking hand to fish out his feather from the wastebasket. He holds it between his fingers, eyes tracing the flow of yellow. Then slowly, painfully, so each barb and vane digs into his palm, he crushes his own feather, gritting his teeth and letting his tears blur the terrible visage.
Fucking useless thing. It deserved to be destroyed. It belongs in the trash.
But Quackity can’t bring himself to leave it there so he stuffs it in his pocket. He scrubs away his tears with a harsh sniffle and looks back into the wastebasket. Where’s the other one?
He gets down on his knees (of all of the things to be on his knees for, somehow this is the worst one and that’s not something he says lightly) and pokes at some of the paper scraps in there, shuffling them around. He doesn’t see even a hint of yellow. Suddenly it feels incredibly important that he finds the other feather, that at least he can hold his love for himself and that his pain wasn’t just thrown away and now he’s rooting through the trash but he can’t find it, where the fuck is it—
Quackity turns the trash can upside down, scattering everything on the ground and still he can’t find it. Where is—
“What are you doing?”
Quackity jerks up to see Sapnap standing in the door of their room, a concerned look decorating his face. Quackity’s wings are already hidden under his shirt but they pull close to his back. They used to do the same thing when he was worried Schlatt might break the fragile bones under unforgiving hands. But it’s not fear this time, it’s shame.
“Nothing, nothing, I, um—” Quackity scrambles for an excuse. “I knocked over the trash and I, um, yeah.”
Sapnap walks over. “Do you need help cleaning it up?” He’s crouching before Quackity can answer. It’s not like he was making much headway in finding his feather anyway. Maybe it got thrown out somewhere else. Quackity really doesn’t want to go through all the garbage in their house like a real feral animal. Fuck.
“S-sure,” Quackity stutters out, glancing back at Sapnap. Then he freezes.
There, hanging off the end of Sapnap’s headband like a fucking festival accessory, is his other yellow feather.
Part of Quackity is elated. This must mean that Sapnap accepts his confession, right? If he’s wearing it all the time, he must appreciate that Quackity gave it to him. On the other hand, Quackity doesn’t know how he feels about it being so public. He never really knew what Schlatt did with all the feathers he gave him but they certainly weren’t on display. Schlatt would never want people to know he was with a disgusting bird hybrid.
It also means that Karl must have thrown away his feather. Karl was the one who didn’t believe him, who wants more. It makes a cold feeling settle in his gut. He just thought that Karl, sweet and loving and giddy Karl, Karl who was the first one to say I love you, wouldn’t be the one asking for Quackity to put himself through more pain.
Quackity shouldn’t be ungrateful. Karl is giving him another chance. He hasn’t broken up with him yet, after all.
Maybe Sapnap could convince Karl that Quackity meant it in the best way, that he isn’t lying? No, that’s not fair to Sapnap.
Quackity glares at the feather until Sapnap finally notices, flushing and asking, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Quackity blinks, suddenly embarrassed that he couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself. He swallows and points at Sapnap’s headband. “It’s… You have my feather,” he states quietly.
“Oh, yeah,” Sapnap’s blush deepens. He fiddles with where the feather is attached. “I just thought… I don’t know, I like being reminded of you. I didn’t want it to go to waste.”
Quackity doesn’t know why he worded it like that but he guesses he doesn’t want his love confession to go to waste either.
“You know you can have your wings out sometimes,” Sapnap continues. “If… If you want. You don’t have to keep them away all the time. That can’t be comfortable.”
Quackity shrugs. He got so used to keeping them hidden when he was with Schlatt. Even now, it feels safer to have them where they can’t be hurt, where people can’t poke fun at him and tease.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know if I’m…” Quackity feels the feather in his pocket and sees the feather stark against Sapnap’s hair and tries to be honest. “I don’t know if I’m comfortable enough with them yet. To have them out.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course. You don’t have to,” Sapnap placates. “I just wanted to let you know.” He shuffles a little closer to Quackity so their hands brush. “You know I love you, right?” Quackity can’t help but glow at that. So Sapnap did accept his feather for what it was. He did good, at least for one of his boyfriends.
He can focus on Karl later.
-
This time Quackity leaves two feathers for each of them. He pulls them out of his skin, two primaries on each side, biting away his whimper and blinking away sharp tears. He puts them down for a second to rub a hand over the rough patch growing on his wing. It doesn’t do much to soothe it.
He hasn’t flown in a long time. He hasn’t even attempted. He’s been trying to keep his wings even, trying to pluck the same flight feathers from both wings so he’s not unbalanced, but he’s terrified that one day he’ll try to take flight and he’ll just fall and fall and fall and then crash.
Maybe he’ll finally be a good boyfriend then. Maybe that’s what they want. Maybe Karl would love him if he’s crushed and broken. Schlatt sure would.
Schlatt wasn’t content with just plucked feathers. Schlatt wanted him to do more. Schlatt wanted him to… to…
It hasn’t come to that yet. Quackity will deal with that if it gets there. For now…
He scoops up his primaries, straightening out the barbs to perfect sleek shapes. He puts the two most beautiful ones on top of Karl’s journal and the others on Sapnap’s favorite seat. He wants to impress them both but Karl is the priority at the moment since he turned down Quackity’s last offering.
He throws one last glance at his feathers and then tucks his wings away. The stripped patches sting pressed against his skin but it’s all worth it. It’s going to be worth it.
-
Quackity’s coming out of the bathroom when he hears voices from their shared bedroom. He creeps closer and he shouldn’t have to sneak in his own home but… he’s just curious. Karl and Sapnap haven’t been in their room since he left his gifts there. Maybe they don’t want to tell him to his face but they might mention how he can do better. They don’t need to praise him, Quackity doubts they will, but he… he can hope.
Sapnap’s voice drifts out the cracked door, soft and adoring. “Aw, more feathers. They’re pretty, aren’t they?”
Karl’s voice is much harsher, louder. “I just don’t know where the honk all these feathers are coming from! It’s like a bird is molting in our house or something.” There’s the clatter of the wastebasket and Quackity flinches.
He knows what that means. Not good enough. Again.
He doesn’t know how to fix it. Karl thinks he’s molting? He would only molt away old or damaged feathers. He thought… He thought he was choosing the most important and perfect feathers for them, to make up for all the ways he’s so much less than perfect. He tries so hard to keep his feathers nice, not for him but for them, for all his lovers. But Karl thinks that the feathers he left are from a molt, thinks they’re old and damaged and not even good enough to keep in the house, only fit for the trash.
He can’t do any better. He doesn’t know how. Those were the best feathers he had and Karl hates them. There’s no more beautiful parts of himself to give.
“Hey, wait,” he hears Sapnap protest. Quackity almost doesn’t want to hear it but he’s rooted to the floor now. “Don’t throw those away. I’ll take them.”
“Why? Is this your fault? Are you hiding a chicken in here or something?” Karl asks suspiciously. Quackity swallows back a wince. He doesn’t think it's a very good joke but Sapnap laughs.
“Yeah, something like that. That’s a funny one, babe.”
Quackity leaves after that. He can’t stand to hear any more.
-
When Sapnap comes down for dinner, he has three feathers laced into his headband. Quackity’s sitting at the table, working through some papers and trying to keep his mind off things when he comes in.
“Hey baby,” Sapnap smiles, kissing Quackity’s head as he walks by. “I’m going to cook something quick for us, okay?”
Quackity nods and offers, “Want me to help?”
Sapnap pauses, thinking on it, and then agrees. The work is easy, especially with Sapnap doing most of the hard parts and giving him instructions. Sapnap’s always been a surprisingly good cook but mostly because he understands the flames and the heat required to cook their meals from years of practice controlling his own fire.
As they cook, Quackity’s eyes drift to his feathers. Sapnap’s feathers now, he supposes.
Quackity clears his throat and Sapnap looks over at him. “So you… you like them?” he asks.
It’s dumb and weak and selfish but he wants some validation so badly. Even just the tiniest acknowledgement that they realize he’s putting himself through this pain for them would make him feel better. They don’t have to reciprocate. He doesn’t need to be showered in praise. But the two of them are having such a nice time together right now, making something for their other lover. And Sapnap did keep the feathers. It seems like as good a time to ask as any.
“Like…?” Sapnap trails off, giving Quackity a confused look.
“Oh, um, the…” Quackity flushes and brushes a hand past Sapnap’s cheek, nudging the feathers. He shouldn’t have even asked. Now it’s clear he’s fishing for compliments. Embarrassment laces through him.
“Oh, your feathers?” Sapnap asks. Quackity gives a sharp nod and Sapnap’s gaze softens. He takes Quackity’s hand from where it’s hovering by his cheek, twining their fingers together and kissing Quackity’s knuckles. “Course I like them. They’re beautiful. You’re beautiful.” Quackity mumbles stop but doesn’t mean it. Sapnap just laughs and continues to shower him with kisses, moving from the sensitive inner part of his wrist up his forearm. “I love every part of you. Even the parts you aren’t comfortable with yet.”
And Quackity, in a moment of reckless vulnerability and trust and love, lets his wings rustle out from beneath his shirt. He’s lucky he left his shirt untucked because it doesn’t take much effort for his feathers to peek out from the hem. His shirt rucks up along his wing bones, exposing his lower back.
As soon as Sapnap sees them, he beams. Quackity’s heart melts and he thinks maybe this is what he should have been doing all along. This is the happiest Sapnap has been with him yet and he didn’t even have to pull out any feathers. All he had to do was show his wings.
“Thank you,” Sapnap murmurs. He kisses at the corner of Quackity’s mouth this time. Quackity can feel his gentle smile. “Thank you for trusting me.”
He draws back slightly, still holding Quackity’s hand but getting a better look at his wings. Something in his eyes turns sad.
His other hand reaches out to carefully stroke a barren patch where Quackity had ripped out feathers. The drag of his fingerpads makes Quackity shudder but he doesn’t pull away.
“It’s fine,” Quackity mutters. Sapnap doesn’t need to worry himself over Quackity’s ugly wings. That’s part of the point after all.
(Or maybe Sapnap wanted to pull out the feathers himself? Quackity could let him. It would hurt but what doesn’t?)
Sapnap’s gaze slides back over to him. “Quackity. Sweetheart. I wanted to ask you about that actually.”
Quackity tenses. Conclusions leap to the front of his mind. “So you don’t like the feathers I left,” he states, not leaving room for a question.
“No, no, I do!” Sapnap insists. He’s still holding Quackity’s hand and Quackity wonders if he means to or if he simply forgot to let go. “I love your feathers, darling. I think they’re beautiful and I love that they’re yours. But I… I worry. It doesn’t seem like you should be losing feathers like this. I was talking to Philza and he said birds could lose feathers over stress or when they’re sick, unless you really are molting, but I just didn’t think it was enough feathers and you have these patches on your wings—”
“Sapnap, please—” Quackity pulls his hand from his lover’s. Sapnap cuts himself off. “I’m— It’s not— You don’t have to worry about it. I’m doing this for you. And— And you said you liked my feathers!”
“I do! I do, I— W-what? What did you just say?”
Quackity hates the way Sapnap is staring at him. Like he’s disappointed and shocked and confused. He knows his wings are trembling and he hates it, hates the way they’ve always shown how he’s really feeling, whether it’s angry and scared or just threadbare and raw and like they’ve given all their love away.
“I— I said—” Quackity is suddenly far less sure of himself. He trails off into an ashamed whisper. “I said I thought you liked my feathers.”
Sapnap shakes his head slowly. “No, not… I mean, I do, but that’s not what I meant. Before that.”
“I… I’m doing this for—”
“Is dinner done yet?” Karl announces his presence a moment before he walks into the kitchen.
Quackity takes another step back from Sapnap, turning towards Karl’s entrance. His wings pull back under his shirt, immediately cramping with how closely Quackity forces them to his spine. Sapnap seems to want to say more but thinks better of it, holding his tongue and beginning to plate their food instead, managing, “Yeah, dinner’s… dinner’s ready.”
Karl bounds over, grabbing a plate and exclaiming, “Smells delicious! Did you both cook?”
“Um, yeah,” Sapnap confirms. Quackity nods along but doesn’t say anything.
Is Sapnap mad at him? It sounded like he was starting to get mad at him until Karl came in and he knows that it’s hard to be mad around Karl but will he still be angry later? Quackity’s not even sure what he did.
“Thank you! Can’t wait to eat it,” Karl bubbles. They all sit down at the table but before any of them even begin eating, Karl tsks, “Sapnap, why are you still wearing those?”
Sapnap’s attention snaps back over to Karl from where it had been intently focused on Quackity. “Huh?”
“Those feathers,” Karl scolds. “Come on, you shouldn’t put them in your hair. That’s gross.”
Quackity flinches. Karl says it so rationally, like he doesn’t understand how anyone could think differently. It doesn’t even sound purposeful enough to be an insult, just a fact.
Sapnap gapes at Karl. Karl doesn’t notice, already starting to cut up his food.
“You don’t know where those have been, Sap,” Karl comments and that’s all Quackity can take.
“Karl, you— you can’t say that!” Sapnap starts saying but it’s nearly drowned out by Quackity’s chair screeching on the ground as he abruptly stands.
“I, um—” Quackity stammers. Karl is staring at him, confusion written all over his face as Quackity tries to find an excuse.
Of course he’s confused, Quackity’s making a way bigger deal out of this than he needs to because Karl’s right, his feathers probably are gross and Karl and Sapnap don’t know where they’ve been and all the disgusting things Quackity has done, but he just can’t stay here and listen to Karl talk about his love like that. He can’t take it.
“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Quackity apologizes, barely making eye contact with either of them before fleeing the room. Their expressions brand themselves in his mind: Karl’s irises bleeding from calm blue to distressed black, Sapnap’s horror and shock. He’s going to be even angrier now, Quackity knows it.
“Quackity, wait!” Sapnap calls but he’s already long gone.
feather weather
Description: Quackity plucks his own feathers for Karl and Sapnap as an expression of love. He doesn’t realize that they don’t see it that way.
Warnings: self-ham (in terms of plucking his wings), past abusive relationship, miscommunication, gaslighting
Author’s note: probably only posting this first chapter on tumblr because who uses tumblr to read long fics anyway, but as always, you can get it on Ao3! (unless somehow there’s popular demand but lol doubt it)
edit: this got more notes than I expected (well, 30 notes lol) so I’ve also posted part two to tumblr!
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Quackity doesn’t like to have his wings out.
He tries to keep them as healthy as he can. He preens, he washes them daily, straightens out his feathers each day when they get crimped under his shirt. He wants his feathers to look nice for obvious reasons.
He just can’t help the patchiness of his wings though. There are spots where the feathers haven’t grown back yet, still red and raw from plucking. He has a bad habit of picking at scabs before they heal and that’s always made the healing slower, though he’s been lucky that his feathers have always grown back eventually. It pains him to think about but he knows his wings are ugly. Like him. Like his scar.
It doesn’t matter if his wings are ugly anyways, as long as his feathers are still sleek and strong and bright, that terribly vibrant shade of yellow from his heritage. That’s what matters because his wings are for him but his feathers are for other people. What matters is that he can keep all his ugliness to himself and give away the most beautiful parts of himself. What matters is that they like the beautiful parts of him and that they never see the ugly ones.
It’s fine. He’s fine. The uglier he makes himself, the more he’s loved. It’s always been that way. That’s what Schlatt told him. Quackity doesn’t have a reason to disbelieve him.
There’s only one other person on the server with wings, Philza. Quackity doesn’t want to but he can’t help but feel jealous sometimes when he sees Phil’s wings. They’re gorgeous. Every inch of them is covered in Phil’s incredible black plumage, full and feathery and nothing at all like the threadbare plain of Quackity’s own wings. Quackity supposes it makes sense though, Phil doesn’t have a lover right now so he probably isn’t shredding his wings apart like Quackity is.
Quackity gets wistful sometimes thinking about what his wings could look like if he gave them the time to heal. Feathers grow back eventually. He remembers how full of feathers his wings were before he started dating Schlatt. He used to be able to wrap them around himself, hide behind fluffed up feathers and let their warmth surround him. He could have that again, if he just had the time. But he has two boyfriends now and no time.
He’s waited long enough already. He’s spent the last few weeks combing through his feathers each night, focusing on his primaries, the important ones. He even got something from a local village to make them shine. He just wanted them to be perfect for Karl and Sapnap.
He wants to be perfect for Karl and Sapnap.
They’ve given him so much. So many soft kisses and gentle touches and so much time and space for him to adjust to dating two people at once. Quackity felt like a guest in their relationship for a long time and in some ways, that was okay. Guests don’t contribute to relationships and Quackity’s plumage was just starting to fully recover when Karl had to go and say he loves Quackity, ruining everything.
No, that’s not fair, Karl didn’t ruin anything and neither did Sapnap when he said it too, voice so ragged and warm, and Quackity had to say it back. He meant it, of course. But now he knows for sure that he’s not a guest tagging along with a couple, it’s the three of them, together.
Now it’s time for Quackity to show his appreciation and give back.
Karl and Sapnap are gone, out for the day doing something or other, so it’s the perfect time. It will be a surprise, a wonderful surprise that shows that Quackity loves them more than just saying it back to them could ever describe. Words have always been Quackity’s strong suit and that’s why Schlatt always accused him of lying. That’s why Quackity’s actions have always spoken louder than his words. That’s why a physical sacrifice always meant more to Schlatt than sweet nothings and pretty compliments.
He’s right. This hurts more than anything Quackity could say to his lovers and isn’t love supposed to hurt?
Quackity huddles down on his bed. He shrugs his shirt off, stretching out his wings with a pained groan. He flexes them so the tips are in front of him. He swallows as he looks at the patches still regrowing from his time with Schlatt but he doesn’t look away. He brushes his knuckle over them, wincing, and reminding himself they’re an expression of love. And here he is doing it again.
His hand trails down to the end of his wing where his primary feathers are. He takes the longest, strongest, prettiest one in between his fingers, pinching at the base.
One breath in.
He holds it for a second too long, just enough to feel lightheaded.
Breathe out.
And as he exhales, Quackity yanks out his own flight feather.
He flinches, eyes squeezing shut as needle-like pain lances up his wing. Fuck, he forgot how much that hurt. It’s only intensified by how sensitive his wings are. He’s out of practice.
Quackity flaps his wing once, shuddering as he tries to ease the sting. His eyes flutter open and he looks down at the feather in his hand, making sure he hasn’t crushed it in his grip.
It’s fine. Still intact, still beautiful, and now Quackity sports a small bead of red blood where he plucked it from his skin.
He places it carefully on his dresser. Then he shuffles his other wing under his grasp.
Two boyfriends, two feathers.
He grabs onto the matching twin feather on this side.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Pull.
Quackity whimpers as the feather gives and is horrified to feel reflex tears welling up in his eyes. He really is out of practice, isn’t he? Schlatt would be getting a good laugh out of this if he was here. It doesn’t even hurt that bad and even if it did, it’s worth it.
Quackity wipes at his eyes and looks at his two pulled feathers, giving them a watery smile. Primary feathers are the ones used for flight and although pulling two of them won’t ground Quackity, it’s the sentiment that matters. It’s saying he would give up the most important parts of himself to be with them, that they were more important to him than he is to himself. It’s the truest way Quackity can say he loves them and be believed. A little pain and wings patchy from self-plucking are a small sacrifice to pay.
He leaves one on Karl’s pillow and one on Sapnap’s, perfect beautiful little gifts for his partners to come home to.
-
Quackity remembers in vivid detail the first time he showed Sapnap and Karl his wings. It was actually an accident but in retrospect he probably should have expected it. Of course his boyfriends would come looking for him after he stole half their wardrobe.
-
Quackity feels that familiar itch at the back of his skull that demanded he nest, that wanted the safety and comfort of being surrounded by the people he loved. It was always around this time that his wings got more sensitive too, constantly twitching under his shirts with the desire to be free. Even when he finally got to take them out, they tended to ache after being smothered in the same position for so long.
When Sapnap gives him a friendly pat on the back, Quackity almost cries at the pain that jolts from his spine through his wings. But it’s fine, it’s all fine, or it’s going to be now that Quackity finally has a moment alone to collect himself.
Quackity was planning on just trying to get some sleep but the bed is cold without his boyfriends. The sheets feel harsh and empty against his skin. His wings push against his shirt involuntarily, desperate to brush his feathers around his lovers.
He curls up in a ball around Karl’s pillow, trying to fall asleep for a few more minutes before he finally gives in. He hopes his boyfriends are more forgiving than Schlatt.
Maybe if he just took some things, nested for an hour, and then put everything back where he found it? They wouldn’t even have to know. Besides, Quackity can at least try to hide it a little.
He drags the fluffiest sheet off their bed and a couple others, leaving his own pillow behind. He gazes longingly at his boyfriend’s pillows but decides to leave them. No reason to take more than he really needs. He hobbles over to their guest bedroom, throwing everything on the bed, before tracking back to ransack his boyfriends’ closets.
He grabs Karl’s purple hoodie, an old smokey smelling sweater of Sapnap’s, and a couple other things, bringing them all to the guest room and shutting the door quietly behind himself. He spends the next ten minutes messing up the sheets and creating his nest. It’s only big enough for one person but it’s not like Quackity has ever needed it any bigger.
As soon as he settles in, clothes from Karl and Sapnap on either side of him, the tightness in his chest unspools. He lets his shirt ride up enough to free his wings, fluffing up his feathers as he lays down.
He only means to take a quick nap but he oversleeps.
He wakes up to voices saying his name.
“Quackity?” Sapnap’s question rouses him, concern audible in his tone. “What are you doing in here? And why did you take all the sheets?”
Quackity’s eyes snap open and he bolts upright. Shit, shit, he was supposed to put everything back before they came home. This is bad. They’re going to be so mad. He stole from them because he’s an uncontrollable animalistic hybrid who can’t even use his wings, he—
Sapnap walks in, Karl following close behind. Karl’s face lights up as he looks at him and he bounds over, not even giving Quackity time to flinch away.
“Oh my gosh, wings!” Karl reaches out and brushes reverent fingers over Quackity’s feathers. “Sapnap, look, he has wings! They’re so pretty.” Karl gazes up at him, eyes wide and adoring and awestruck. He whispers, “You’re like an angel.”
It takes everything in Quackity not to rip his wings away and tuck them safely behind his back again, out of the reach of hands that can rip out feathers and snap the fragile hollow bones. Logically he knows Karl won’t hurt him but old habits die hard.
He gives Karl a nervous smile. “If I was an angel, they’d be white, not yellow.” Karl laughs at that and Quackity’s heart eases. At least Karl isn’t mad at him.
“Like a little duckling,” Karl murmurs in compromise. Quackity tries not to hear ugly duckling.
Karl cards through his feathers and Quackity watches as his eyes shift from purple-green to golden yellow, the color blooming from behind his pupils. Gold bleeds out from his nail beds as well, staining his fingernails a brand new hue. They’ve never been able to explain it, who or what Karl is. Karl has never offered a reason. All Quackity and Sapnap know is that he’s not quite human.
Sapnap takes a step closer. He pokes at the sleeve of his sweater that Quackity took from the closet.
“Is this mine?” he asks.
“I was going to put it back,” Quackity insists. His hands twist in the sheets. “I— I didn’t mean to steal it. I can put it back right now. I can—”
Sapnap shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine, baby.” He yawns and then crawls into the bed, curling up there and opening his arms in an invitation for cuddles.
Quackity immediately tenses. He holds back the words of protest in his throat but Sapnap notices anyway.
“You okay?” he whispers.
“Um, you’re—” Quackity swallows. His instincts rear and he forces them down, flapping his wings once to try and settle himself. Karl lets out an awed gasp at the motion but all Quackity can think about is how they’re in his nest. “Just dumb bird stuff. Nevermind.”
“No, I want to know. You can tell us, I promise.” Sapnap strokes the end of Quackity’s wing where it’s just in his reach. “I didn’t even know you were a bird hybrid. You don’t have to keep so many secrets from us.” Sapnap doesn’t sound accusatory. Just… sad.
Quackity looks away. “I’m not trying to keep secrets. I just… I don’t want to inconvenience you guys. Or be annoying. This isn’t important stuff. It’s just… me stuff.”
Karl’s brow furrows. He puts a hand on Quackity’s cheek, guiding the other to look at him. “But you are important,” he says earnestly. Quackity can feel Karl's pulse, as regular as a ticking clock.
Quackity pulls his wings close to his back, biting his lip. Karl lets his hand drift to Quackity’s shoulder, rubbing circles there.
Quackity finally gives in, sagging and admitting, “I’m— I’m nesting. Sometimes it happens because of stress, sometimes it just happens. It helps to have things from the people I care about when I make it for when— when you’re not here.”
“Aw, that’s so adorable. You’re a little birdie in your nest?” Karl giggles. Quackity gives a weak laugh in return.
“Y-yeah I guess.”
Sapnap is still staring at him. Heat radiates off of him. Sometimes Sapnap sets things on fire, part of being a blaze hybrid, and Quackity pictures his nest going up in flames, imagines sitting in ash and charcoal. Schlatt used to threaten to hurt Quackity’s wings so badly he would never be able to use them again. He never made good on that promise but it would be so easy for Sapnap to burn all of Quackity’s feathers away if he wanted.
“Is there something else?” Sapnap finally speaks up.
“No, no—” Quackity blurts out too quickly.
“There is. I can tell.”
“Just—” The words get stuck. “It’s not important. I can’t control my instincts and— and birds aren’t even supposed to be territorial anyway. You really don’t care—”
“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t care about. I can decide that for myself, okay?” Sapnap takes Quackity’s hand, skin warm to the touch but somehow not burning. Quackity was sure it would be burning. That Sapnap would burn him.
“You’re, um,” Quackity looks up at Sapnap, trying to articulate the wrongness that’s settling in his bones. “You’re s-supposed to ask permission to enter my nest.” Quackity starts to backpedal before even registering Sapnap’s expression. “It’s just a dumb tradition though. Obviously— obviously I wouldn’t say no to— to my boyfriends so it’s stupid to even think that you would have to ask. Dumb fucking bird instincts, right?”
Sapnap starts standing and Quackity grabs at his sleeve. “Don’t— Don’t— I’m sorry, please don’t leave, you don’t have to leave. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even mentioned it—” Sapnap shushes him and gently pries his hand off. That’s it, Quackity has really fucked it up now.
Karl starts getting up too and Quackity jerks out a hand to press down on his thigh, stopping him. Karl leans over, pressing a kiss into Quackity’s shoulder. As he gazes up at Quackity through his eyelashes, Quackity sees the gold in his irises tarnish. “‘s okay, duckling,” he says. Quackity doesn’t believe him.
All his insecurities collapse down on him. He’s always third best. How could he not be when Sapnap and Karl had a past that he would never be a part of? This is their chance to finally cut him out like they should have all along. Who would want a scrappy bird hybrid who can barely fly? Who would want someone already so damaged from their last relationship?
He could have just held on a little bit longer, just been a little bit better, and then maybe he would have had this for a few more days but somehow he always manages to find a way to fuck things up.
But he can’t keep them here. He’s not their prison guard. He doesn’t want to be the weight holding them down. If they don’t want to be with him, then that’s it and no matter how much he wishes otherwise, he has to let them go.
Quackity almost can’t take it. Nesting is already a fragile time. Even the tiniest things can tip him over the edge because his nest is supposed to be safe.
But his nest hasn't been a safe space for years.
It started out lonely and cold when he was all alone in the world, abandoned by any other bird hybrids who could have explained to him what he was and what all his instincts were telling him to do. He figured out nesting by himself after spending weeks crawling out of his skin and trying to understand why he hadn’t been able to sleep. He was near delirious with sleep deprivation when he finally let his body do what it wanted and woke up in a nest of sheets and clothes.
That was how it was for a couple years until he started dating Schlatt.
Schlatt hated when Quackity nested. He hated how Quackity left the house a mess, how it turned him into a thief, how inevitably even when Quackity returned the clothes that they were covered in shed down feathers.
Quackity tried his best to stop. He let the dark circles under his eyes grow, let his mind fog over with fatigue, let his hands tremble through his work. Finally Schlatt let him nest in the closet in return for proof that Quackity cared about him.
That’s how it began. That’s how Quackity started giving up his primary feathers in exchange for love.
Just a plucked feather here, a yanked feather there, and Quackity could prove he loved his fiance.
And things were so good except when they weren't and Quackity got used to nesting in the closet eventually and now he's here looking at Sapnap and Karl leaving him alone in his nest the same way Schlatt would leave in disgust when he saw Quackity nesting.
Quackity jerks his hand off Karl's leg like he's been burned, shame coursing through him. "Yeah, no, of course. It's fine," he mutters even though it's really not. The most he can hope for is that they let him keep using the guest bedroom and maybe don't kick him out just yet.
“Quackity—” Karl starts to say, reaching for him, but Sapnap berates, “Karl, come here.”
Karl throws a last look at Quackity as he fully gets off the bed. He takes Sapnap’s hand instead and Quackity stares at their interlocked fingers without any jealousy, just a despondent kind of inevitability.
“Just stay here, okay?” Sapnap requests softly. Quackity nods, not trusting any words to come out. Anything is better than being kicked out. He’ll hold onto any last seconds he gets to spend in their home.
Sapnap pulls Karl out the door. Quackity watches them go, rooted to the bed. The tears start to come as soon as they leave his vision.
They start slowly, blurring his vision into soft lines, then rolling down his cheeks one by one. He takes a breath and his lungs shake. The tears come faster. He doesn’t even bother trying to keep it together anymore. What’s the point?
They left him. They’re not coming back. Why would they?
He brings his knees up to his chest, huddling his face in his arms where his tears can be absorbed into his sleeves. His wings come up around him, hiding him away. His nest is always so cold.
He hears shuffling and then the creak of a door. “Huh?” He peeks out from behind his arms.
Sapnap and Karl are standing there, pillows and extra blankets in their arms. Karl’s face instantly falls as they make eye contact. He drops his things on the floor, rushing over and putting his hands on Quackity’s cheeks, thumbing away his tears.
“Oh, duckling, don’t cry! We shouldn’t have left. Don’t cry, baby.”
Quackity sniffles pathetically and lets Karl fuss over him. “I-It’s fine, Karl. Really. You don’t have to worry about me.”
His relief is so intense that it’s almost painful as it floods through him, heart to fingertips. And behind that, there’s the desperate need to hold on as hard as he can before it’s taken away from him again. He doesn’t want that to show though, doesn’t want his neediness to make them reconsider.
“Quackity,” Sapnap gets Quackity’s attention. His eyes smolder like embers. “Do we have permission to enter your nest?”
“W-what?”
Quackity can’t quite process what’s being asked of him. They’re his boyfriends. Of course they have the right to anything that’s his. After all, Schlatt never asked. He just took and took until Quackity had to take back and eat—
NO—
But there’s something right about the feeling of being asked. That’s the way nesting is meant to be. It’s supposed to be safe and respected and not shoved into tiny dark spaces where Quackity can’t even open his wings.
Sapnap’s voice breaks Quackity out of his thoughts.
“Do we have permission to enter your nest?” Sapnap repeats.
“Yeah, we came to ask permission!” Karl agrees, dropping his hands and leaning down to pick up the pillows on the ground. He throws them all onto the bed as Quackity stares at them. “These are for you! To make your nest comfy, even if you don’t want us in it. See, we brought our pillows cause you said you liked our clothes!” His eyes glitter with color, a dizzying rainbow swirl.
The tears start coming back, not quite falling but Quackity’s eyes burn. They didn’t even ask assuming that Quackity would say yes. They brought him their own pillows so he could have them even if they weren’t invited. Quackity could take all the sheets and pillows and be safe and send Sapnap and Karl back to their room and he doesn’t even think they would be mad. He can’t remember the last time someone cared for him like this, without expectation of something in return.
“Of— of course I want you both in my nest,” Quackity finally stammers, scrambling to make room. He could say no. He could. But he doesn’t want them to think he’s ungrateful so he won’t. “You can come in.”
Sapnap nods and crawls onto the bed. Karl was clearly just waiting for Quackity to say the word because he practically leaps into Quackity’s lap, snuggling him into a hug. Sapnap pulls both of them closer to him, careful not to crush Quackity’s wings.
Quackity lets the warmth surround him, burying his face in Karl’s shoulder. If anyone hears him sniffle, no one mentions it.
“I’m sorry you thought we were leaving,” Sapnap whispers as he kisses the top of Quackity’s head. “I just wanted to do it the right way.”
Quackity’s instinct sing at that, at the thought of his partner trying to be respectful in the ways that matter to his instincts. They’re trying to understand him. And Quackity appreciates that but—
“You know you don’t have to though, right?” Quackity twists to look at Sapnap. “You’re already leagues better than Schlatt.”
The flames in Sapnap’s eyes dim and extinguish. “Even if we are, that doesn’t always mean we do the right thing. It doesn’t always mean we’re treating you as well as we should. Please, don’t let that bastard be your benchmark for us, okay?”
Quackity doesn’t know how to reply to that so instead he starts playing with the new blankets Sapnap and Karl brought. His nest is a little small with the three of them in it. He wants them all to be comfortable so they don’t have to leave again.
He feels his boyfriends watch him as he bustles about the bed, widening his nest and lining it with their pillows and clothes and blankets. The nervous feeling in his chest eases as he puts the last thing into place. He fluffs his wings out and then unexpectedly, a chirp bubbles up out of his mouth. Quackity’s eyes widen and he presses a fist against his lips to stop another from slipping out.
He hasn’t chirped since he was a little kid. Why is this happening now? Vaguely he remember someone telling him that baby birds peep when they’re imprinting on the people who take care of them and fuck—
Karl beams, exclaiming, “Oh my gosh, did you just chirp, birdie?”
“No, nope, I—” Another peep breaks through his words and Quackity feels his cheeks heat up. “Shit.”
Karl squeals. He peppers Quackity with kisses as Quackity hiccups and chirps, the embarrassment only making the sound more uncontrollable. “I love you, Quackity! You’re so cute!” Karl grins.
Quackity freezes. “W-what?”
Karl blinks at him, eyes shifting between sweet shades of pink and yellow. “I love you! Haven’t I told you that before?”
Quackity shakes his head slowly, still staring at Karl. Karl has never said he loved him before. Quackity would remember. None of them have actually. Quackity has a theory that Karl and Sapnap stopped saying they loved each other when he joined their relationship so he wouldn’t feel left out but he doesn’t have anything to prove it. He also has a theory they still said it to each other when he wasn’t around but that one hurt more to think about.
Karl’s nose wrinkles cutely, like he can’t believe he hasn’t said those words before. “I swear I did,” he mutters and then shrugs. “But either way, I’m telling you now! I love you!”
Quackity’s blush deepens. “Oh my god, you don’t have to keep saying it. But I…” He swallows and phantom pain drifts through his wings. “I love you too.”
Sapnap’s arms come around Quackity’s waist, hugging him closer. One of his hands reaches out to hold Karl’s.
“I love you too,” Sapnap whispers into Quackity’s neck. “I love you both.”
Quackity hides his face in Sapnap’s chest. “I love you too, Sap,” he replies.
He thought he would never say those words again. Schlatt hurt him so much, in every way. This was supposed to be fun, just a rebound to pass the time, but Karl and Sapnap pulled him in with each sweet pet name, each warm gesture. He means it, those precious words he said to them.
And he thinks they meant it too.
For now, he tries not to think about what that means for him and how he’ll have to actually prove it to them later and how his wings still have threadbare patches from his last relationship. For now, he tries not to think about how love always hurts.
-
The first time Sapnap and Karl said they loved him was the first time they saw his wings. Quackity said it back then but now he proves it, each stripped feather a declaration of love. It all comes back to his wings, his beautiful, hideous, plucked wings.
In a way, it’s all so fitting.
Author’s note: this is a chaptered work, probably about 5 chapters, and should be updating weekly on Ao3! Here’s the link again if you missed it!
feather weather (chap. 5: +1)
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five
Series Description: Quackity plucks his own feathers for Karl and Sapnap as an expression of love. He doesn’t realize that they don’t see it that way.
Chapter Description: Two months later...
Author’s Note: Last chapter! Thank you for the lovely reception of this fic, it’s been super fun!
Read it on Ao3!
+1
The last two months have been… better. Yeah, Quackity thinks they’ve been better than before.
Everything is different now. The three of them have been talking a lot, about all sorts of things. They’re trying to take things slow. Karl and Sapnap have been keeping a careful eye on him, always on the lookout for self-destructive behavior. But for now, it’s comforting instead of suffocating. They’ve talked about how to help Karl with his memory loss by providing gentle reminders if he looks lost in conversation and leaving notes for him around the house. Sapnap confided in them about his own insecurities, that he thinks that everyone assumes he’ll hurt them because of his past, how more than anything he doesn’t want his boyfriends to feel that way about him. They’re all working on improving themselves and each other.
Quackity doesn’t pluck his feathers anymore. For the first time in years, soft down feathers are growing in the barren patches. He wonders what his wings will look like with their full plumage. He doesn’t remember what they used to be like but he’s excited to learn again.
Instead of hurting himself, now he tells Karl and Sapnap that he loves them. He says it a lot which is good and bad, he supposes. Good because it’s true and he means it and they believe him. They say it back each time. It’s bad because Quackity thinks about hurting himself often.
He didn’t realize how automatic it was until he had to keep his hands from involuntarily twitching towards his poor feathers, looking for something to snag on. Nowadays he tangles his fingers with Karl or Sapnap’s and waits out the feeling.
He hasn’t been nesting as much, happy to spend time in bed with his boyfriends. The guest room closet has gone blissfully unused since the last time he nested there. The first time he nested again, just wanting somewhere to curl up and try to ignore the itch of his regrowing feathers, he invited Karl and Sapnap in with him. The next time, he asks them to stay out. His own surprise at their easy acceptance of it made him feel a bit sick. He’s working on not being surprised by his boyfriends listening to him and caring what he thinks.
He’s been working on a lot of things during these months and he’s been shocked by how much the changes have made him happier. He’s always been scared of change because change meant making mistakes and mistakes meant getting hurt. But now everyday he reminds himself that he’s safe with them. All they want is for him to be safe.
-
It’s late at night when Karl stumbles into the living room. Quackity startles from his spot on the couch, a blanket around his shoulders as he waits for Sapnap to come back. Sapnap is stoking the fire but as soon as Karl comes over for a hug, his hands extinguish their flames. Luckily the fire is already catching and it bathes the room in soft orange as the sound of crackling wood fills the room.
“Hey baby.” Sapnap kisses Karl’s forehead as he snuggles into him. “Where’d you go today? How are you feeling?”
Karl groans quietly. “Don’t wanna talk about it. It wasn’t… it wasn’t nice.”
“I’m sorry. I wish we could help more,” Sapnap sighs, holding Karl a little closer.
Karl leans up to kiss Sapnap’s cheek and whispers, “You’re doing more than enough. I’m always happy to come home.”
When Karl pulls back, his gaze lights on Quackity. “Quackity!” he exclaims. “I had a question for you. What… What was it?” He pads over. “Can I… your wings… Oh! Can I preen your wings?” His nails seep gold as Quackity lets him slide the blanket off his shoulders.
Quackity has taken to wearing shirts with slits in the back more regularly, so it’s easy to let his wings slip out into the open. He stretches them to the sides and cringes at his crooked feathers and the patches still in the stages of recovering.
“I guess you can. Do you really want to?” he asks. Karl has assured him he likes his wings, loves them even, but Quackity still has moments of cold doubt where he remembers all the reasons he hid them away.
But Karl doesn’t flinch or look away in disgust. Instead his eyes fill with praise and he strokes a gentle, reverent hand along the top of Quackity’s wing. Quackity shivers and Karl giggles.
“I do. I actually read in…” Karl’s hand pauses. His breath catches and Quackity looks up at him in concern. Then Karl shakes his head, seeming to snap out of it. “I read somewhere that it can help me relax. Like meditating.”
Quackity’s brow furrows. “You read somewhere that preening my wings would help you relax?” It seems awfully specific. It’s not like there’s a lot of bird hybrids on the server and the way Karl said it, it sounded like it was meant for him and Quackity, not as general advice for anyone who happened to read it.
Karl bites his lip and Quackity can sense his distress building. His eyes cloud with darker hues. “It was in a journal. My journal. It’s complicated.” He takes a deep breath and continues, “It’s not important but it said— I said— Whoever wrote it said that it can make me relax and it might help me remember more.”
Quackity is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s dating a time traveler. It sounds like Karl is leaving notes to himself from the future. Or the past? But that’s all secondary to the want to help in any way he can. Karl’s memory loss has been one of the hardest things to tackle between the three of them. Any possible solution is worth trying.
Instead of saying anything, Quackity just extends a wing and pats the space behind him. Karl gives his hand a thankful squeeze and sits. Sapnap joins them, taking residence behind Karl and watching as he runs his fingers through Quackity’s feathers, straightening them.
Quackity doesn’t know the right way to preen. He never learned the proper way, always just resorting to whatever was enough to keep his feathers passable. Vaguely he remembers that there’s wing oil that should be naturally spread from his glands to keep his feather sleek and it’s supposed to help remove old feathers.
He doesn’t think it’s supposed to hurt like this.
Quackity’s muscles lock up as he feels Karl tug on another feather as he runs his hands through. He bites at the inside of his cheek to hold back the tiny whine of pain in the back of his throat. At least they can’t see his face. Quackity isn't doing a good job of hiding his expression.
Karl’s not collecting any oil to smooth out the transition. Is it intentional? Maybe it’s supposed to feel this way. After all, Karl is the one who read about preening. He probably knows better than Quackity.
Or maybe Karl wants it to hurt. So Quackity can prove how badly he wants to help Karl because this is for Karl and his memory after all. Could this be another test of love?
Quackity abruptly recognizes the twisted thought for what it is, harsh conditioning left over from his last lover. This is what Karl and Sapnap are trying to teach him, how to realize when he’s being self-destructive.
They told him he should ask instead of allowing himself to be hurt.
As he suppresses another wince, Quackity timidly murmurs, “Um, Karl?” Karl’s hands stall to show that he’s listening. Quackity’s fingers twist together as he stares at the couch cushions, working up the nerve to speak. “Can you… are you… are you trying to make it hurt? On… on purpose?”
Karl inhales sharply. “No, no. Does it hurt?” Quackity can hear him getting upset with himself. “I read that I needed to be careful with you. I was— I was trying to be gentle. I didn’t realize—”
“It’s okay. Hey, it’s okay, Karl. Really. It didn’t hurt that much.” Quackity turns towards him, relief flowing through him. So it was unintentional. Karl doesn’t want to hurt him, he would never. Quackity gestures to his wings. “Can I show you? I think there's a gland that makes it easier so your hands won’t catch as much.”
Karl nods eagerly and is attentive as Quackity takes him through the steps of preening. Sapnap watches over Karl’s shoulder. Quackity can see him taking in each bit of information and storing it for later.
“Think you got it?” Quackity asks at the end.
Karl nods. “You’ll let me know if it feels uncomfortable, right? I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I know, darling. I’ll tell you. I trust you,” Quackity says and Karl’s eyes soften. Quackity turns back around, leaning his head against the couch as Karl gets back to work.
There’s an immediate improvement. Each time Karl runs his fingers over his glands, Quackity gets a burst of fuzzy pleasure. The oil helps his movements glide through Quackity’s feathers like water. As he straightens some feathers, he eases away aches that have been with Quackity so long that he almost forgot they were there.
Quackity feels himself melting into Karl’s hands. He lets out a contented chirp as Sapnap slinks over to his other side and starts carding his hands gently through Quackity’s hair.
“Are you remembering anything?” Quackity whispers, trying not to disturb the moment.
“That I love you,” Karl whispers back with a smile. He presses a kiss to Quackity’s spine between his wings.
“I love you both,” Sapnap rumbles. His voice echoes the crackling fire as his fingers warm and caress Quackity’s scalp.
“I love you too,” Quackity breathes, a chirp catching the end of his words.
The moment is warm and peaceful and safe. Quackity doesn’t worry that it will end. He knows it will. But he also knows that there will be more moments like this in the future. That’s his future with them, with Karl and Sapnap, his lovers.
Warm. Peaceful.
Safe.
I JUST FINISHED "FEATHER WEATHER" AND OH MY GOD I NEED MORE.
Are there any works that inspired it so I could scope them out?
Thank you so much!! Delighted you enjoyed it :D
As for inspired works, I'll give some of my favorite Karlnapity recs since I've taken inspiration from them in lots of little ways!
Liar by Dirade is of course the original inspiration for feather weather, all of Dirade's works are just omg beautiful and heartwrenching! Your Blood in My Mouth is another Karlnapity work by them and it is excellent!
Wing Care 101 but also this entire series by notNOTnotYb! All of the stories in here are so good but the first one is about Quackity and his relationship with Schlatt preening his wings, lots of lovely angst (and also tw for past abuse but if you're looking for feather weather recs, I assume that's alright)
Jackpot by ceruleon! Karl is also a wibbly wobbly color changing shapeshifter in this fic, love that for him :)
I keep most of my favorite fics and recs in my bookmarks on Ao3 so you can always filter and search through there as well for stories that I love! Thank you for the ask!