#it's their title granted by Hornet

[ostebee]

Nah, I'm still here at the hospital for at least two weeks ot even more and I'm very rusty about it. No puter, no drawing in digital, almost permanent pain in right hand because of the catheter, no sleep, no snacks... So here's old art of royal siblings :'D. I will be grateful for your kind words and feedback of course!

[overgrownmoon]

im making a good ending au :)

everyone lives, and the royal family rebuilds their home. Hallownest will survive, and become glorious once more.

Under their careful gaze, the Silent King, Lord of Shades rules with a kind and merciful hand. Determined to be the opposite of their father in every aspect, the King walks among their people, personally overseeing the rebuilding efforts and aiding their people wherever they need. Although they cannot speak, their presence speaks volumes as they work tirelessly to right the wrongs of the past.

Queen Hornet the Sharp earned her title through her sharp mind, wit, and blade. Able to reunite the long-warring kingdoms of Hallownest and Deepnest, she acts as the kingdom's judge, enacting swift justice upon wrongdoers and enemies, a vow to protect her people kept. Firm, yet fair, she is revered as the Kingdom's Needle.

Once discarded and now born again, Hallow the Beloved was personally finally granted their long-earned title of Knight of Hallownest by their siblings. They refused their offered place at the throne in favor of being free to explore Hallownest and offer their servitude to the people they saved. Eternally grateful, they have truly earned the title of Beloved by the people. They also serve at the Archives, giving their knowledge of the past to the Archive's new overseers, Professors Lemm and Quirrel.

After mining at the Crystal Peaks resumed, Dirtmouth's population boomed as survivors sought to begin again away from the corpse of the kingdom. It was renamed Godmouth, apt as it became the home of three gods.

Eager to represent a new era, Godmouth is now the nation's new capitol, and a palace was constructed for the King, Queen, and Knight to live in. It houses a great commons hall, with gates open to the outside for any citizen to visit for commerce, social gatherings, and a place to rest. Grimm is known to visit often, happily entertaining the populace with dazzling shows of flame. This is to the Queen's chagrin, but the King seems to delight in Grimm's visits. Knight Hallow also sits in the hall often, quiet and contemplative, a ready friend to sit by and speak to for as long as one needs; their patience is infinite, and their very presence brings peace.

[bluegekk0]

Hello! I’m quite new here and have done some reading up, but is there anywhere that explains what the AU is about / could you explain? Only if you don’t mind of course. (I love learning about others’ AUs.)

Also: -pokes PK’s belly-

oh absolutely! be prepared though, this is going to be a long one. also an important note: i can't write, so i haven't written any fics about this, which means many details can change/develop over time as it's something i think about 24/7, but i'll try to write down what i currently have in mind and what i'm more or less confident with

so the gist of the au is that pk went into hibernation in the dream realm, as opposed to dying as he (presumably) does in canon, and then moved to dirtmouth with hornet and hollow. but there's many aspects of the au that trace way back into his past, so i'll go over those first if you want to learn more. i will put a "keep reading" divider here cause it's going to be quite long haha

pk was always an outcast among other wyrms, he was born a runt and had no physical strength for playfighting with the other hatchlings, for which he was often mocked. instead, he preferred to quietly observe and study things, which is how he got interested in mortal bugs. yes, they were food, wyrms are a carnivorous species after all, but he felt it was wrong to treat them as just fodder, like the other members of his kind did. he wanted to create, not destroy, and he wanted to share it with the mortals, as he saw parts of himself in them and wanted to help them reach their full potential

wyrms as a species were highly territorial, so that and the fact that they could reproduce in litters and increase their population numbers ended up being their downfall, as their constant fights over territory became more and more violent, causing them to start killing each other much more frequently. this constant aggression caused their numbers to decrease over time, and eventually they disappeared. that is when pk decided to claim the territory that later became hallownest as his own, and abandoned his form in favor of something more approachable. he met the white lady, married her, and granted the most intelligent bugs in hallownest sapience, leading to the creation of the kingdom

it didn't take long until the cracks began to show. he wasn't used to getting this much attention, so when the bugs started worshiping him, he began hiding in his workshop, away from everyone, having doubts about his self-worth and whether he can live up to those expectations. alas, the worship he received lead to the moths abandoning the radiance, and the start of the infection. he promised himself he wouldn't fail the kingdom, and so he started looking for ways to stop it, eventually deciding on the vessel plan. he's always had doubts about it, but it was his last resort and he didn't have much time, so he had to try. and thus hollow was born, the vessel that was able to climb up the abyss, proving their strength and claiming the title of the hollow knight. unfortunately for pk, as much as he kept reminding himself that the vessels had no emotion or thought, that they weren't supposed to be children, the truth is that he got attached, as his parental instincts told him to do. with this realization, came intense guilt about all of the vessels, something which would haunt him from that point on, made even worse with the cryptic signs he saw in his dreams warning him of hallownest's downfall (this is how his foresight ability works in my au)

but he had to proceed with the plan, he had no other choice, and that prompted the bargain with herrah and the birth of hornet. he immediately got attached, all his instincts which he had to repress with hollow have finally found an outlet. hornet became the light of his life, and they grew extremely close, especially after herrah went to sleep, as pk made sure to be here for her at all times, taking the role of both her father and mother (and going as far as killing and decapitating xero in a blind feral rage when he threatened her). unfortunately, all the guilt about the vessels led to him and the white lady separating down the line, as even just looking at each other caused both of them immense pain. so after that, and after hollow was sealed in the temple of the black egg, it was just him and hornet, which made their bond even stronger as they were the only family each of them had left

but as we know, the plan failed, and the infection returned. this caused pk to completely break down, all his fears and guilt piling up, making him unable to do anything. he wouldn't leave his palace room, he wouldn't do his duties as the king, he was as good as dead. hornet was away at the hive at the time, training with queen vespa and her knights, so she wasn't there when pk's breakdown lead to his disappearance, although she noticed there was something bothering him long before that, he just never talked about it with her. she was shocked to learn that he was gone, and after a period of blaming herself for not being there for him, she grew bitter and angry about the fact that he left her all alone with no word

the reason for his disappearance was hibernation. this is a process that is extremely rare among wyrms, as it's caused by intense distress and fracturing of the mind, and for such a violent species, death often comes way before that point. it's essentially a rebirth, a complete reset of their mind and memories that allows them to continue. in the case of pk, this process was interrupted by ghost, which caused him to lose all of his powers. no powers meant that he wasn't able to sustain himself with soul, and had to find actual food, so he left the white palace behind in the dream realm (while he was able to exit it, he had no means of entering it again) and spent the next few weeks running around hallownest and surviving off of tiktiks and other non-sapient bugs. he wanted to be forgotten, so he avoided any interaction with bugs who still lived there (as a side note, i quite like the idea of him defacing statues of himself, in an effort to make them unrecognizable and to show that he never deserved them in the first place. so you'd find old statues of the pale king with their faces scratched away or horns broken off, and any king's idols you'd encounter would be shattered into pieces)

hornet was not aware that her father was back until she heard zote's panicked warning about a "white monster with a crown who killed and ate bugs" after he ran into pk in greenpath. she had to go and check herself, as she had a feeling the description matched someone she had known before, and she was correct. after stumbling upon pk in greenpath, and following a brief angry exchange, she decided to take him with her to dirtmouth, where he met hollow. seeing hollow forgive their father made hornet realize that she also wants to give him a second chance, as despite her anger, she did miss him a lot

this is also where grimm comes into play, as he and his troupe remained in dirtmouth after the ritual was interrupted by ghost's disappearance in godhome. grimm and pk met years ago, not long after the kingdom was first created, and over time became close friends, which evolved into something more, though neither of them admitted it at the time. their reunion in dirtmouth caused all of those feelings to spark up again, leading to them starting a relationship

all of the sins of the past still greatly affect pk. his fear of failure makes him terrified of making even the smallest mistakes, he's prone to panicking and apologizing for even the most insignificant matters, and he's frequently haunted by nightmares of the vessels, his failure to save the kingdom and all the pain he caused his family. then there's the more feral side of him, something which he tried to repress while he was a king, and now embraces as part of his new life (he is cringe but he is free...). moreover, he's ashamed of his mistakes, and refuses to let anyone call him "the pale king", choosing to go by the name "wyrm" instead. he's grateful for the second chance he was given, he wants to do better and be a good father, especially to hollow, but he's still emotionally broken. hornet's anger with him sours their relationship and makes it much more difficult for them to get as close as they used to, but i definitely see it improving over time, as they still love each other dearly, there's just a lot of emotional baggage both of them have to deal with first

i think that's basically it for the backbone of the au, it all leads to the point i'm at now: exploring the character dynamics, thinking of where they're going to go next, introducing more side characters (i still want to include quirrel, just thinking about his potential design and how he's going to fit in), making up silly non-canon scenarios, and so on. i want to eventually make a doc file, or something of that sort, detailing each character and the au in general. i picture it as kind of like fandom wiki articles, with personality descriptions, backstories and relationships included, just to keep it all neatly organized (and maybe suitable to share in public haha)

i apologize if this is all hard to get through, i tend to ramble quite a lot and, again, i'm not good at writing, so this is closer to an incoherent mess than an actual story overview, but i hope it's somewhat enjoyable to read. do feel free to ask any questions if you want to learn more! i always enjoy responding to them, plus it helps painting a clearer, more consistent picture of the au in my head :)

[illicien]

Projects

Okay time to do a collection of my fucking List I guess. This is for me. But also for anyone who wants to harass me and ask how far along another project is. Bah. Organized from most likely to be done to least likely tbh. This'll just be a post I keep editing with new info.

If you want the finished stuff:

WinterBaron Fics Here IronStrangeFrost-adjacent Fics Here

Third Time's the Charm

Rating: E Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: "Counting On It" A/B/O Finale (unless I write that EKO-Scorpion/Zemo bit I've had in my head, but that's in the same universe rather than a necessary part of the series) Length: 2/5

Summary:

When an absence of Zemo for their infiltration missions results in injuries, Bucky puts his foot down and makes it clear that they do actually need his help and whatever's keeping the man locked up in the RAFT needs to be dealt with.

Of course, that means it's time for him to make some serious changes, and figure out how to explain his feelings.

The Devil is a Gentleman (working title)

Rating: E Ship: Hydra!Steve/WS!Bucky/Zemo Key Points: It's just this that I'm blaming on Winter Length: One-Shot

Summary:

(this will exist properly when I decide whose PoV this'll be in.)

HS/"Mafia" AU (working title)

Rating: M-E Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: WinterBaron meeting in High School, separated by circumstances and reunited as very different men. Length: Multichapter & Series

Summary:

(This'll be two long ass fics and I'm not ready to summarize this one any more than I did in the key points tbh.)

War Child (Series Title)

Rating: E Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: Young Zemo. Secretary Barnes. Length: One-Shot Series

Summary:

The Sokovian Gov't needs assistance in its ongoing civil war, and Heinrich might just be able to make a deal with someone in the U.S. Gov't to assist.

Move With Glory (working title)

Rating: E Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: War-prize Bucky as a part of EKO-Scorpion; semi-fantasy setting. Length: Unknown

Summary:

Having recently won the war against Winterlund, the Queen of Sokovia has granted her cousin, Colonel Zemo, his pick of the prisoners of war as a prize for his 'rehabilitation project'.

Black Jewels AU (working title)

Rating: E Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince Bucky aids a jewel-broken Purple Dusk Warlord Zemo, and now he can't quite get rid of him Length: One-Shot

Summary:

Warlord Princes are frightening enough without being a recently released one with a known history of violence. However, there's something about a rather bold little Warlord who has decided this particular Warlord Prince might not be as violent as people have made him out to be.

Trouble Is A Friend Of Mine (working title)

Rating: M (for violence more likely than smut tbh) Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: Dead Dove 'selling' of Zemo to track a group that goes WHOOPSY SIDEWAYS. Length: One-Shot

Summary:

As the only one of them with a built-in tracker - courtesy of the RAFT - and a long history of infiltration, it's decided that sending Zemo into the hornet's nest is the best way to find the nest itself. When that tracker fails them, a question must be asked: did Zemo plan his escape, or is he in more danger than they prepared for?

All The Ways I Died (working title)

Rating: T-M (undecided) Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: It's Hanahaki Disease with Zemo. That's it. Length: One-Shot

Summary:

Zemo's fucking pissed to realize that he's in love with someone again; he'd ignore it, if it wasn't literally killing him.

Seeing Double (working title)

Rating: M-E Ship: WinterBaron (maybe WinterStrange, too, we're undecided babes) Key Points: TWO BUCKY FOR THE PRICE OF ONE HEADACHE. Length: One-Shot

Summary:

The multiverse opening up has resulted in a wide assortment of undesirable things. When one of those things involves Sam, Bucky, and Zemo finding themselves a still brainwashed Bucky Barnes, it's time to go have a talk with a wizard sorcerer.

Hunter's Moon (Series Title)

Rating: E Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: Hunter x Werewolf, knotting, general supernatural chaos Length: One-Shot Series

Summary:

Zemo is a hunter of all things supernatural, and when he captures Bucky his intention is to find out where the rest of Bucky's pack is - unfortunately, Bucky has no pack, and Zemo just doesn't believe that. It means he'll have to keep him around until the full moon comes calling - or the pack does.

To The Victors

Rating: M Ship: WinterBaron Key Points: Charity event to rebuild Novi Grad after the fall of the Avengers? :3 Length: One-Shot

Summary:

(why did I decide to put summaries on any of these, I hate writing summaries...)

[ashyronfire]

White & Gray || Prologue - We'll Be Lost Before The Dawn

Title: Prologue - We'll Be Lost Before The Dawn Rating: M Characters: The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel (x2), Hornet, The Pale King, Herrah (+ more, tbh) Warnings: Introspect-Heavy, Found Family, THK is Not Nice, Angst/Depression, PTSD-based dissociation at times, Trauma Bonding, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Self-Harm, Suicide/Suicidal Ideology, Off-Screen Suicide, Post-Dream No More Ending

Summary:

In defiance of death. In defiance of light. In defiance of space. In defiance of time. Void: potential without limit. To recreate. To undo the mistakes of the past. To alter the course of history. To rewrite the past, there is no cost too great. Tell me you will live through this and I will die for you. Through trick of void or twist of fate, the Hollow Knight is sent back to the beginning, to a time when Hallownest had yet to fall. To save themselves. To change their own destiny. And perhaps to grant Hallownest a kinder fate as well...

Author's Note: Hi! This fic was my big project and is my pride and joy. It's coming close to a year old. When I first released W&G, I didn't have a Tumblr - so only 2/3s of the chapters got linked here. I was also too shy to crosspost it here properly. After AO3 being DDoSed recently, and with this fic's one year anniversary coming up, I decided to be brave and start posting it once a week here for those who want to read but don't particularly feel like going to AO3 for whatever reason.

That being said, this fic is finished. The entirety of it can be read on Ao3 as-is (if you'd rather binge), or you can read it here with its weekly updates. You can also find the fanart that it has received under this blog's tag of w&g. The tag w&g fanfic will be for the actual fic.

(Also, sorry to people who read it who may not want this fic on your dash. Promise I'm not gonna spam. <3)

Prologue ||

Needlepoints of ivory lit up a place light dared not venture. They came in pairs: one, two, three, four, and then the numbers increased so rapidly that it was impossible to keep count. No two were exactly alike in shape, and yet they were so alike that the average viewer would be unable to tell them apart. An amalgamation of shadow woven into form not-fully-solid and never meant to be, they were silent. Their screams needed no sound to resonate from the furthest reaches of creation to a world they were never meant to tread.

They came.

They came to the one with ashen form. With bone. To the solid one who dared to ascend to the heavens. Who climbed higher and higher, whose shadow was at once darker than theirs and more tangible. 

They rose from their darkness, from the place forgotten by time and all who came before. There was no call. There needn’t be one. There were no words, for there was no use for those, either.

They came for the blinding light filling the morning, painting the sky golden, yellow, orange. 

Higher. Higher.

They were hungry . They hungered for her.

She screamed. The sound was deafening; it was rage given voice and it echoed throughout all of creation, as far as the light touched – but the light did not touch everything, and that scream of rage could not pierce the darkness rising up from beneath the world, into a realm that it had never touched. The void did not dream. The void simply existed: kindness and cruelty, malice and delight, the great vacuum. Without hopes and aspirations, it could not enter to her world, and at its basest form, the void had none of these things.

But one had given it something . One had given it purpose: single-minded devotion to duty, to instruction. Seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams.

The one with form climbed. They followed. The great black wave stained all that it touched as it cascaded, rolling along the mountain’s edge to follow like a beacon. She flew higher into the sky, to escape the rising of that dark tide. She could not get higher enough. There was no height it could not ascend; that they could not guide it.

Great tendrils of darkness shot out, gripped and pulled. She screamed again and tore herself free. 

More eyes lifted. Watching, impassive. She was terrified. It did not care. She was screaming for escape. It felt nothing at all.

The tidal wave could not be stopped once it had begun, and it began long ago: the moment that another creature entered that vast emptiness and left something alive within. The earthquake took the form of an egg filled with the essence of wyrm and root, the eye of the storm.

The one given form followed. It gave chase and the great sea wove the path it tread. Up, higher and higher. 

Great tendrils shot out, then, and wrapped around her. One broke off from the mass, a pair of eyes lit up by lightning scar hued in gold. It grabbed her by the face, held her face and pulled her into its claws. It felt. The sea did not; the sea was impassive. It was not . It was angry. It was scared. It was filled with a terrible determination. She screamed and this time it was personal: aimed at that one, that shadow that held her fast in its claws with no intent of letting go. Or perhaps the scream was at the one before her.

The sound of shell breaking was sickening; cracks like bone, discarded, forgotten. The one with form became formless, and yet it did not dissolve into the sea, into the rest of them. The void answered its command as it launched an assault at the weakness exposed by the other one. The slashes were rapid, vicious, soundless, and yet somehow they drowned out her defiant, desperate pleas - not words, more feral, more animalistic. The last shriek of an era dying, before being whisked away into sweet, unending silence.

Her light exploded around it and then the tidal wave broke. 

All that remained was the dark. 

And words.

Words in a voice it heard once, so long ago. They were faint, and yet they resonated just the same. One among the mass was pained. One among the mass hurt to hear them. A memory, then, a place so long ago.

Yours is the power opposed. 

But yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could defy Time.

Would the one without form simply cease to be? Its task was done. It could rest. 

The void did not know conflict of emotions. The void did not know emotions at all. And yet one among it knew conflict: one among it knew emotions. One in the mass knew pain, regret, sorrow, anger, hatred, betrayal. One in the mass knew love , that terrible ruin that spelled its own undoing. Those words evoked that feeling, strange and uncomfortable, and what one felt, all felt: a pain without cease and a lack of understanding. A question, then, churning within the storm. 

It saw her, a figure in scarlet cut from the same cloth as the one with form. It receded, but it saw her walk to the broken, discarded shell and look at it, and that question grew louder still.

Yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could defy Time.

Defy time.

Defy time.

W h y. 

Hornet.

That was her name. 

The void did not feel. The void had no need of names; of identities; of personalities. The void was one great mass, as simple as the sea, perhaps at times turbulent but never feeling. Impassive, eroding and changing, shaping the world in its wake and unstoppable, manipulated by the tides of others but never deliberate in its actions.

It knew her, though, for the one given form had known her, and the one who knew pain knew her. 

It knew her.

“Thank you, little ghost,” she said, and it heard her as the waves receded. It heard her and it was filled with a great terrible sensation: emotions unwelcome in the vacuum of its being.

There was regret. There was sorrow. There was confusion. There was a wish.

Defy time. 

W h y.

Afloat; one of them was afloat, separate. No, not one. Two. Two were afloat. The others had been absorbed back into it, from whence they came, to sleep as they had before the disruption, their great duty fulfilled. But two were adrift in their sea together. The one with form. The one who knew pain, who knew fear. It was that fear that kept it from rejoining the waves: that fear and an overwhelming sense of regret. 

Why. Why. Why. Why.

It could be undone. The one with form knew this to be fact. All could be unwritten. It was limitless potential. It needed only gentle guidance. It could be undone. It could retain its form. The one who knew fear could get an answer to the burning question. Would it change destiny? Was that truly its wish? There were some questions to which the answer would only hurt.

It knew pain intimately. It did not know answers.

But it could be given them, for the void was unlimited potential: a force that could defy even time itself, should it will it. It did not understand the fixation. It did not understand why it mattered. Those who had spoken those cursed words were long gone. Those who had woken it from its slumber were long gone. Its mission, its objective, was fulfilled. The sea was able to return to its banks and be undisturbed once more. It had accomplished what it set out to do. Yet the two remained among a whole, unique, distinct: individual, where individuals were not meant to be.

The sea gave a violent shudder. The air was thick with darkness. It crept from that cursed prison, receding through the cracks in ground, through the space between where nothing lived and nothing died, through to a place where everything and nothing was one.

Back to where it came from.

Defy time. 

Defy time.

Why. Why. Why?

Did it truly matter so much? Was it truly that important, that it could not return to peace without knowing? 

Then it would know.

Void tendrils stirred. Shining white eyes lifted, meeting a pair so like its own, and yet so different. Two individuals in a blanket of the same: two distinct, where none should be. There would be more pain this route, but it was accustomed to pain, it knew pain like a lover, and it was not afraid anymore. In doing this, it would forever change things. It would change the existence of the whole. The one given form might not exist. The one who knew pain might not exist. It needed to know. It needed an answer. It could not rest. 

Then it would know. 

Defy time.

What form it took would be up to it. The shells were all broken. There was not one to contain it. There would be complications. None would understand. It still wished it. The hands of time were in fluctuation. It was intimately acquainted with fear, yet it knew fear all over again: the unknown was a variable it had not entirely accounted for, but it would not undo it.

The void sea rose in waves. Those white eyes of its sibling, form and unity, met its own. It watched, impassive. The instruction was unspoken and yet implicitly understood: this would change everything. There would be no third chance. There would be no unraveling the threads of fate from here. Was this still its wish, knowing that there would be no coming back? That it would never see the fruits of its labors? That even if it got its answers, even if it succeeded, it may never actually know what came to pass? Unwritten. Let it be unwritten, then. Let it start anew. 

The cost would be great.

It was afraid. It had walked into fear before. 

Defy time.

Remember us. 

The one with form tilted its head very slowly. Watched, with those same strange eyes. There was a tension in the air then, as the waves churned into a maelstrom. The same tendrils that had pulled her down to her ruin wove around it but unlike her, it did not struggle. It embraced the darkness and all that it offered. Limitless potential. Defiance of time.

To start again. To rewind the fabric of reality. 

To find out.

[boglarkarebay]

I have a Hollow Knight AU titled ‘Afterlife’. I don’t have as many artworks for it as I would like, but regardless I thought: what if the Deltarune characters were in it? It wouldn’t make sense for them to exist alongside the main characters, because one of them - >clears throat< Asriel to be exact - has an incredibly OP power that could mess up ALL the power dinamics of this universe, so, instead, they will be friends of a character who lives decades after the main story, sorta like a spinoff. So here they are. I’m sure Susie and Noelle are important characters too, but I don’t know about Berdly, since the bully’s role’s already taken.

Main character: Kris Dreemurr. The rules of this world are kinda complicated, but demons are the same species as angels and their physical traits depend on magical interactions caused by their genes but even more by their environment. So Kris having horns is normal since they were born in Hell, and no matter how much angel medicine is trying to supress their magic, hormones be hormones and do their thing. Kris’ deepest secret however is that sometimes… they feel like some things happen repeatedly. Not like dejavu, stronger. But there isn’t anyone who seems to notice this, so they just keep it to themselves, thinking it’s just their imagination or something.

Here he is. The reason I had to put this set of characters to live in the future. His save and load abilities grant endless opportunities for the King to kill and abuse the main characters of the earlier storyline, so there would be no reason for him not to use them there, so Asriel would be simply not in the picture to prevent this. He gets discovered at the age of 7 or 8, around the same time the King kidnaps Rin, the kid he will later claim to be his son. Rin was a demon originally, a spiderdemon even, but has been getting magic replacement therapy since he was a toddler, so unlike Kris he has wings and a haloo, making him believe he’s actually an angel, and his parents are the two biggest assholes in the world.

Quick note: Asriel’s been trying to hide his duties and relationship with the King from his family, especially from Kris. He hasn’t met them in a long time because of this, but ‘been sending them lots of letters. He just don’t want Kris to get involved in any of this, or to see what a monster he has become thanks all the horrible things he was forced to do, and getting disconnected from people’s emotions, yada-yada.

There’s Dess too. She’s a very cool character alright. She was kidnapped as a child and had to live on her own, while gaining her own traumas of course. Ever since she and Asriel met again, she feels a very deep connection to him, like they understand each other more than anyone else could. Asriel is kind of his usual sociopath though, saying things like ‘What if I killed you several times before, and you just cannot remember?’ and ‘One day you’ll going to become boring too. A stat on a screen. Just like everyone else.’ Dess isn’t someone who can be scared off by these statements, nada. She believes that what matters is the current timeline, it’s the only one she can remember anyways. So if none of the terrible things happened this time, it woul surely mean it was the best course of action to not do them, right…?

And finally, Karla, my beloved Hornet x Quirrel fankid. Even though her childhood was scattered with all kinds of horrible experiences, she still loves her parents and everything they gave her… even if they’re gone now. Rin is her younger brother who was taken away by angels and was raised to be the King’s son. She feels guilty since, because she believes it was supposed to be her responsibility to protect him. Regardless, she is SO ready for revenge and to kill that disgusting Monarch. She can also detect loads, so with the King and Kris she is the third person to be capable of this. She is very close with Dess, dismissive of Asriel, friendly with Kris, and there is… someone else she made friends with, watching them from the shadows…

[vinceleemiller]

Overwhelming Odds And God’s Salvation | 1 Samuel 13:5-7

Are you feeling completely outnumbered and powerless? That could be good!

Welcome to the Daily Devo. I am Vince Miller.

This week, we are in 1 Samuel 13. I've titled this chapter "Partial Obedience Is Complete Disobedience."

Chapter 13 is about two years after Saul's inauguration. Saul has 2000 men under his command. Jonathan, his son, has 1000 men under his command. They have split up and are trying to move out these garrisons of Philistine soldiers that have encamped around the region, put there to intimidate the Israelites. Jonathan has just defeated one garrison, which stirs up all the Philistines. Listen to what happens next in verses 5-7:

And the Philistines mustered to fight with Israel, thirty thousand chariots and six thousand horsemen and troops like the sand on the seashore in multitude. They came up and encamped in Michmash, to the east of Beth-aven. When the men of Israel saw that they were in trouble (for the people were hard pressed), the people hid themselves in caves and in holes and in rocks and in tombs and in cisterns, and some Hebrews crossed the fords of the Jordan to the land of Gad and Gilead. Saul was still at Gilgal, and all the people followed him trembling. — 1 Samuel 13:5-7

The Israelites are overwhelmed because they have stirred up a hornet's nest and realize they are outnumbered and overpowered.

Saul and Jonathan's current combined force was 3000 against a whopping 36,000 Philistine troops, who also had a lot of advanced weaponry. It's probably how the modern State of Israel feels today, given the fact that the entire land mass surrounding them is against them in some way.

There have been plenty of times in my life when I have felt surrounded like this: outflanked, overwhelmed, outnumbered, and overpowered. When this happens, my human rationale battles with my spiritual rationale. Sometimes, my impulse is just like the Israelites—ignore, deflect, run, and hide.

But there is one principle I have learned that has better equipped me for these moments. I have learned that in situations like this God will reduce me and my situation to complete helplessness so that I will stop relying on myself and rely on his salvation. The problem I always have is that I tend to lean too much on my skill, effort, and tactics until I realize that they won't work and might even complicate matters.

If, in a present situation, you feel like you have tried everything within your power to do what is right and righteous, then you might need to stop. But don't stop and run, hide, and live in fear. Instead, stop in your helplessness and trust in the Lord, your help and salvation. If you don't let the Lord help where you cannot, you might end up doing what Saul does next—you might make a tragic and fatal mistake.

#FaithOverFear, #TrustInGod, #SpiritualStrength

Ask This:

In what areas of your life do you feel outnumbered or overwhelmed, and how can you shift from relying on your own strength to trusting in God's help and salvation?

Reflect on a time when you faced a daunting challenge. How did your response align with or differ from the Israelites' reaction in 1 Samuel 13, and what can you learn from this to apply in future situations?

Do This:

Let God be your salvation.

Pray This:

Lord, when I feel overwhelmed and outnumbered, help me to stop relying on my own strength and turn to You for salvation. Grant me the faith to trust in Your power and guidance, even in the face of daunting challenges. Amen.

Play This:

Shout Hosanna.

Check out this episode!

[samdelurvanrafigon]

The Philadelphia 76ers are also the Syracuse Nationals. The Sacramento Kings are the Kansas City Royals and the Rochester Royals. The Los Angeles Lakers are the Minneapolis Lakers, and the Minnesota Timberwolves are NOT the Minneapolis Lakers. The Los Angeles Clippers are the Buffalo Braves and the San Diego Clippers, and if Buffalo or San Diego were granted expansion teams, neither would be the Buffalo Braves or the San Diego Clippers. Likewise, the Atlanta Hawks are the St. Louis Hawks, and a new NBA team in St. Louis would not be the St. Louis Hawks. However, the Oklahoma City Thunder are NOT the Seattle SuperSonics, and if Seattle was given a new team, regardless of team branding THEY would be the Seattle SuperSonics (1967 - 2008). The Charlotte Hornets (2014 - present) are the Charlotte Hornets (1988 - 2002), but they are not the New Orleans Hornets (2002 - 2013). The New Orleans Pelicans (2013 - present) are the New Orleans Hornets (2002 - 2013), but they are not the New Orleans Jazz (1974 - 1979), who are the Utah Jazz (1979 - present). The team that played in Charlotte in the Hornets interim and whose personnel was inherited by the Hornets, the Charlotte Bobcats (2004 - 2014), are NOT the Charlotte Hornets, nor are they spiritually represented by any existing NBA franchise. The Brooklyn Nets are the New Jersey Nets, and if a new team was granted to East Rutherford they would not be the New Jersey Nets, but they would retain the de jure right to challenge Brooklyn for the title. This is ontologically correct and I will not be questioned

[mostlydeadallday]

Thorns of Steel | Chapter 4 | A Memory of Steel

Fandom: Hollow Knight Rating: Mature Characters: Pure Vessel | Hollow Knight, The Pale King, Dryya, Isma, Ogrim, Ze’mer, Hegemol, Hornet, Ghost Category: Gen Content Warnings: chronic pain, dehumanization, referenced abuse, surgery without anesthesia, flashbacks AO3: Thorns of Steel Chapter 4: A Memory of Steel First Chapter | Previous Chapter Notes: And that's the final chapter, folks! (Happy Easter, by the way, if you celebrate!) Here's that catharsis I promised you. Thanks for sticking with me through this self-indulgent little headcanon. I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment and let me know what you thought, or send me a DM or an ask! I love to chat all things Hollow Knight. (Be sure to check out my other ongoing fic, Lost Kin!)

○

“Hollow?”

It’s Hornet, voice soothed to sleepiness by the warmth and the water, but her eyes are fully open, watching them.

They refocus on her, blinking away the wispy memories of the other knights’ shapes through the fog of steam, of their absent voices ringing laughter-bright from the walls.

“What are you thinking of?”

She asks them this often, forcing them to acknowledge their own mind, to turn a critical eye upon the tight spirals that their thoughts so often sink through.

But for once, she has caught them in a pleasant memory—nearly as pleasant as their memories get, the warmth of the knights’ compassion and the unfamiliar pleasure of their company lingering even now, even endless years and countless horrors afterward.

Even that meadow is not without its thorns. The pain had returned, though slowly, once they left the springs, and it had been weeks before that agony diminished to an ache they were capable of ignoring, before they could stand up straight, before they could function something like they had before, and even then, it was difficult.

The Five had not forsaken them, though Hollow had never given the other knights any indication of gratitude—had, in fact, tried not to be grateful. Once a week or more, Isma would bid them wait at the palace gates of an evening, and she or Ogrim or Dryya would meet them, and together they would make the walk to the City, until it became routine, a regular respite that made the long, hard days easier to bear.

That routine had not ceased, even after Hollow was granted their title, officially becoming the Hollow Knight. Even in the months and weeks leading up to the Sealing, even as peace and spare time both became increasingly thin. As Hallownest descended into barely-controlled chaos, as the world slowly lost its mind to dreams, the Five could no longer meet all together as they once had, but at least one of them would seek out the Pure Vessel and ensure that they found a few hours to visit the hot spring, the very same pool they and their siblings float in now, the one place in the whole of the kingdom where their burdens were lifted.

They have wondered if their father knew. If he purposefully ignored the actions of the Five, knowing they extended an offer of kindness that he could never allow himself.

But just as the knights are gone, just as Hollow has no way to ever thank them, the Pale King is gone as well, gone where no halting question can ever reach.

Hornet clears her throat. She is accustomed by now to their odd silences, but she is not patient by nature, as hard as she tries for their sake.

They know a sign for complicated, they only thing they could say that might convey the breadth of their thoughts. But that won’t make her happy, won’t satisfy her, and so they hesitantly reach up with their dripping hand and tap the end of the pin in their left shoulder.

That answer makes her unhappy, too, but in a different way. She slouches, masktip dipping below the water, eyes going half-lidded with a dull anger. “I wish I could help,” she mutters. “I wish I could get them out of you.”

She had tried, once, after their other wounds had healed, after she saw how much the embedded steel pained them. Especially in the evenings, or when the weather changes, the temperature and pressure shifts shot pangs through their shoulders and spine that nearly doubled them over.

The pins had been meant to serve another purpose, though they had not known at the time. The seals in the temple had required suspension; a perfect sphere of binding, uninterrupted by contact with the ground, was the strongest method of confinement their father could conceive of, and Hollow had been hung from silver chains beneath the arching cavern ceiling, their body supported by nothing but the rods through their healed-over shell.

The soul-forged steel had held. It had not bent or broken, even when Hollow had.

But the long, tearing weight of the centuries and their struggles against the Radiance had twisted their shell into rigid scars, their body constantly healing over in new, more complicated ways, gradually binding them into knots that would not come undone.

Hornet had hesitantly obtained their permission to try and remove the pins, one day when the pain had been near-unbearable, and when they next visited the springs she had bade them lie on the shore and taken her needle to the left side, afraid to impair what function they had with their remaining arm. But the scars had been too thick, the metal sunk too deeply, and she had left off when the pain built so high that they began to whine, a high, discordant buzz that was out of their control, a sound they had not even known they could make.

Then, as now, the only thing that brought relief was the spring water, and all of Hornet’s desperate apologies had fallen on deaf ears as they crawled into the pool and submerged, sucking in enough soul to heal the wound. The new scar vanished amidst the old, just one more jagged landmark on the map of their suffering, and they have tried to forget about it.

Hornet has not. She is dissatisfied, in that sharp, inward-turning way only she can manage, like a thicket of briars, and even now she stares at their shell in dull misery, as if every scar on their body had come from her blade.

“The rest of the armor came off,” she says quietly, almost weakly. “I thought…”

Hollow reaches over and places their hand on her knee beneath the surface, a wordless acceptance, a sign that needs no translation.

Do not sorrow.

Do not blame yourself.

A ripple draws their attention to where Ghost lounges in the shallows, only their eyeholes above the surface. “Armor?” The word is spelled out dismissively, water flicking from the tips of their fingers. “Never had. Never wanted,” they sign, with the nonchalance of someone who has not been listening.

“Ghost,” Hornet sighs, with a faint edge of distaste, and Ghost does not even try to figure out what they did wrong, only lets their hand splash back down, showering Hornet with warm water.

She wipes it off with a forearm, glaring, though Ghost’s eyes have already drifted shut. A better defense against their sister’s ire Hollow has not yet found, and the void vibrates within their chest, a wordless resonance that makes the surface of the pool dance and jump.

“Stop laughing,” Hornet snaps, though with no real bite to her tone. “You’ll just encourage them.”

Time was when they had thought she would never speak without that edge, never leave that sharpness behind, like a favorite blade honed and re-honed to fragile thinness. This year of hard-won peace has changed them all, softened them, like rainwater over stone, blurring the hard-cut lines of vigilance and fear. And it has changed the kingdom, too, allowing the dust of its fall to finally settle, without the encroaching infection, without the danger to any creature of sound mind who dared to wander its depths. Others have come, refugees from other conflicts, victims of other tragedies, and they have found something like solace here, in a place where the worst has already happened, where the tremors of apocalypse have finally fallen into stillness.

Hallownest’s wounds will never heal. It will never be what it once was, what it might have been. But it will keep on being, though those who built it might no longer recognize what it has become.

Their little sister picks at her claws, still frustrated, still restless, even the soul-rich waters losing their calming effect. “I’ll never understand him,” she mutters, and there is venom in it, in the soft sizzle under her words, in the wet rasp she has to swallow down before she can continue. “How could he not see that you were suffering? Why would he do something so needlessly cruel?”

There are many things they could say to that.

There were spells the armor carried that a living body could not bear.

If the Radiance could have ripped them from me, she would have.

If I had been what he thought I was, it would not have been cruel.

But Hornet will not accept anything that sounds like an apology for their father, so Hollow simply signs, “He thought he needed to.”

She lets out an inarticulate hiss, and they can feel her edging close to a foul temper, a mood that will grasp her and hold her and not let go for days, that will force her to icy silence for fear of what she might say if she speaks. She no longer patrols the wastes, subject to the endless quiet and the oppressive loneliness and the slow, grinding rhythms of solitude, and sometimes she forgets that.

So they reach for her, their ruined body nearly as graceful under the water as it once was above it, and pull her deeper to float, weightless, in the center, as Isma had once done.

Hornet does not resist, though her movements are stiff, and she does not truly relax until they tuck their arm under her, until they knock their mask against hers, the water lapping at both their faces and into the eyeholes of their masks, and she splutters and laughs and Ghost sits up in a belated panic that they’ve missed something important.

Hollow hums to them, an almost-sound that carries through the water, and the smaller vessel swims out and lays their mask back against Hollow’s stomach, letting their short limbs relax and spread out like a little black star.

Hornet grudgingly tucks her head into their shoulder, careful not to jostle the scars, though the pain is gone for now, though nothing can truly hurt them here, not in this peaceful room with its magic untouched by the kingdom’s fall, not with this family they have come to claim as their own.

“You needn’t accept what he did to you,” she mutters. “Not all of it. Not any of it. It was not your fault. You deserved better.”

Hollow knows.

Sometimes, it is hard to remember. When memory crashes down on them like a rockfall, when they cringe away from bright light, when they lie in the dark, paralyzed by a quivering stillness, expecting at any moment to feel the touch of metal and soul. When they hug their arm tight across their body, fitting themselves into the grip of chains that are no longer there. When their mind slips, and their thoughts slide backward from they to it.

Their father’s touch will never be gone from them. The imprint of his mind on theirs, his will on their body, his soul-glyphs that still glow bright on their chest, even severed from the remnants of the whole.

Their sister’s words hang unanswered in the air.

It was not your fault.

You needn’t accept it.

You deserved better.

Hollow lifts their hand and signs, “It is enough.”

Because whatever else the Pale King may have done, without him there would be no remnants of a kingdom to slowly feel at home in. No ruins of a city to still harbor wonders. No memory of five knights who reached out in compassion to a wretched thing that did not even know it needed them.

And though the vessel will never know what they might have been, there is no room in them for that kind of regret now. Though they once were called hollow, they have begun to fill that echoing space with the beauty and joy they have found in this ruined kingdom, jewel-bright things set free from the darkness and brought out into the gentle light.

And among all else that the Pale King gave them, he also gave them this: two siblings who expect nothing from them but the effort required to be, to live, two feral god-killers who would risk life and limb to keep them safe, whose care and company and affection have cut through centuries of scars to a tender heart that’s still somehow able to love.

And though they cannot choose their wounds, there are worse wounds to bear.

[uvobreakmylegs]

On Golden Wings

Anonymous requested a Kurapika x reader story where Kurapika has a mythical element.

Kurapika is technically a seraph in this, but I added some elements of a griffin because I thought it was fun and Kurapika is extra so it fits

(sorry about the bad title it was the best I could come up with)

Warnings: mentions of violence, kidnapping, threats of torture, implied death

Feathers.

Everywhere you looked, you could find golden-brown feathers strewn about the city. In the streets, sticking out of bushes, stuck within whatever cracks they could find or drifting across the pavement as the wind pushed them along. Even some children would pick them up and use them as accessories.

When they first began to appear people had noticed them quickly – they were hardly small, some that you had seen were longer than the entire length of your hand. Questions about them came just as fast, on where they had come from and what kind of bird this was, to be losing so many feathers at such a seemingly rapid pace. The local zoo and bird sanctuary claimed to know nothing, and no one of the upper class within the city admitted to having some sort of exotic pet that had escaped. And if all of those parties were telling the truth, it only meant that it was wild. And once again taking in the size, it was extremely likely that it was a bird of prey.

The fears began then. That there was a monster bird stalking the city, ready to maim and kill whatever it came across. Despite the fact that there was no evidence of any actual danger, once those ideas were planted fear was quick to make the majority of the public lose their minds. For a few weeks, at least. Once enough time had passed and there were no reports of anyone turning up dead, the public's sights shifted to a new fear to worry over, and the feathers that covered the city were accepted as a new norm with only a small handful of people still trying to find the feathers' origins.

You fell within the former category, content to accept that the feathers were there to stay and since it wasn't actually affecting anyone negatively, it wasn't anything to worry about. The feathers could get annoying, yes, but it was a nuisance that was easily taken care of so you could get on with your day.

Whether it was just an abnormally large bird or something that fell under the category of a magical beast, you had no desire to kick that particular hornet's nest just to sate your own curiosity. There were things in this world that were beyond your comprehension. You were happy to accept that fact and content to continue living your life not worrying about such things.

The feathers stayed, and you continued as normal.

Or at least, you would have had it not been for a chance encounter one night.

It was a late Sunday evening when your work shift finally ended. It had been a hectic, exhausting day as usual and you wanted nothing more than to return home and pass out on your bed.

The walk back towards your apartment was quiet, with virtually no one else on the street and only a few cars passing you by every once in a while. Though you usually did your best to keep yourself calm, there was always a part of your brain that worried about being out alone so late at night. Women getting snatched up and murdered was something you frequently saw in the murder documentaries you occasionally watched, and as much as you told yourself that it could never happen, it didn't hurt to keep your guard up, subtly glancing around the area every so often to make sure no would-be murderer was following you.

Checking around again, you sighed to yourself when you confirmed that there was in fact no one tailing you. Adjusting the grip you held on the paper bag holding the donut you'd grabbed before you left your work, you told yourself that at least there was no one there to see you acting like a paranoid idiot.

But even you were caught off-guard when you heard a commotion coming from the alleyway a few feet ahead of you, followed by a stray cat who ran out and down the street at full speed. You stood still for a few seconds, waiting to see if anything else would come out. Nothing did, but you could hear movement from within the alley. Along with.... Breathing? It was most likely a person, then, and who knew what they were doing in there.

Common sense told you that you should probably go to the other side of the street before going past the alley, or maybe even to turn around and find an alternate route home. As much as an inconvenience it was, you would have done just that had you not seen the flurry of feathers that came rushing out of the alley, followed by what sounded like the flapping of wings.

…. That didn't seem normal. Granted, none of this seemed very normal, but the sounds and things you saw coming from that alley were decidedly strange.

Maybe the thing that's been leaving those feathers was in there.

The thought popped into your head, and once it had, you had a hard time getting your legs to take you away from the area.

You didn't care what sort of creature was hanging around the city. That was what you had told yourself. So why were you slowly moving forward, straining your neck to try and get a glance at whatever was in that alley? You didn't care, and you weren't going to actually do anything with that information.

But just getting a quick glance at it wouldn't hurt, right?

You took a few small steps forward, and finally, you could see into that alley.

A young blonde man, most likely in his early twenties and wearing all white, stood before you, a hand holding a trash bin lid as he was very obviously rooting through the garbage. But those things weren't even what was most significant about him.

It was the four large wings that protruded from his back.

Even as he held them tightly to himself, the wings still brushed against the walls and ground of the alley, the natural grime of the ally dirtying the golden-brown feathers. There was also a tail that swayed from side to side, resembling that of a lion and of a similar color to that of the wings. And to top it off, you noticed that on his bare feet and his hands were long sharpened nails. Or perhaps they were claws. Either way they looked deadly, and you inhaled sharply when you noticed him freeze.

He slowly turned his head, looking over his shoulder to glare at you with sharp gray eyes.

The two of you stood there for some time, neither of you taking your eyes off of the other even when he turned to face you fully, tossing the metal lid to the ground with a clatter. His chest puffed up and his wings extended as he stood at his full height. It was a show of force, you realized. He saw you as a threat and was trying to scare you away by intimidating you.

Common sense was back, telling you that you had gotten what you had come for and that you should retreat while he still gave you the chance. He hadn't attacked you, so it was safe to assume he would leave you alone if you left now.

But even as you thought that, another look over his figure made you reconsider. His white clothes were muddied, covered in dirt and what looked like blood. The fabric was ripped in several places as well, the wounds that were beneath partially visible. On a closer inspection, his wings weren't faring much better: there were several spaces that were empty where feathers were clearly supposed to be, and quite a few of the ones that remained looked scruffy and unkempt. Like he had gotten into a fight with something and had lost. Then there was the fact that you had caught him literally digging through the trash. Taking another glance at the trash bin, you saw the remnants of rotting food sitting at the top.

He must be hungry.

The man continued to glare at you, and then tensed when you held out the paper bag that you had been holding.

“Do you want this?” you asked, offering it to him.

His eyes narrowed further, and he looked at the bag and then back to you.

“What is it?” he asked.

Relieved that he could understand you, you answered “a donut. Food.”

He stayed quiet as you continued to hold the bag out to him, his guard not letting down in the slightest. He was clearly trying to assess if you were plotting something and if this was some sort of trap. You tried not to be offended. You had never heard of people with wings before, but if you had, you were certain that the general public would have treated them as being some sort of magical beast to be gawked at or hunted. Based off of his actions, he must have good reason not to trust you, and you couldn't blame him for that.

“Toss it over to me,” he finally said.

You did as he told you, throwing the bag over which he caught with one hand.

He carefully opened the top, peering inside while his figure relaxed slightly. Once he had determined that there was nothing wrong with the bag, he tentatively reached inside to grab what would have been your late-night snack, letting the bag fall to the ground as he inspected the donut, turning it over and sniffing at it. It was the first time you had seen someone give such an accusatory look towards a simple donut.

He looked back at you briefly before taking a small bite, carefully chewing before he swallowed. You saw the tension in him dissipate further, and he took a few more bites as he leaned back against the alley wall, satisfied that you hadn't done anything to tamper with the food. He would periodically glance over at you as you smiled to yourself, happy that he seemed to like it.

“Can I come closer?” you asked.

He paused in between bites, once again looking you over.

“.... Not too close,” he finally answered.

Delighted, you took a few steps forward, stopping when he ordered you to stop with a swish of his tail.

“You're a strange one,” he commented as he continued to eat, “why did you do this?”

You shrugged.

“I wanted to help.”

“But why?”

“You were hungry.”

He didn't seem satisfied with your answer as his eyes narrowed at you once again, but he chose to continue eating instead of questioning you further. Within moments, the donut was gone, and he was licking the last remnants of it off of his fingers.

“That was hardly filling,” he said, “but your kindness is appreciated.”

Lifting off of the wall, he turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” you called out.

He stopped, glancing back at you.

“What is it?”

“Can I help you with anything else? Is there anything you need?”

“What else could I need from you?”

“Maybe some bandages? You're hurt, aren't you?” you pressed.

One of his hands instinctively went to his stomach that had one of the many wounds on his body, covering it as he bit his lip. He turned away and began to walk again.

“If I decide that I require your assistance again, I will come to you,” he called out, “but do not count on such a thing happening.”

“... Okay,” you answered, feeling a bit dejected.

“Could you at least tell me your name?”

He ignored your question as he reached the other end of the alley, his wings spreading out and lifting him up with such a force that the backdraft he created caused the paper bag on the ground to fly up and hit you squarely in the face.

Despite what he had said you saw him the next day, peering at you through the thick foliage of a local park. He vanished the instant the two of you made eye contact, his golden head popping back down beneath the leaves.

He must have been confident that he would get your attention and not alert anyone else that was around, you mused.

Or he was just that desperate.

Taking it as an invitation, you made your way into the the thick bit of forest within the park, quickly coming upon a small clearing where he stood, arms crossed as he waited for you.

“Am I right in thinking that you wanted to see me?” you asked, grinning as he nodded.

“Yes,” he said, sighing, “I'm trusting that you didn't tell anybody about our meeting last night?”

“Who would I even tell? No one would believe me.”

“And you intend on keeping my existence a secret?”

“Again, no one would buy it.”

“Very well,” he responded. His gaze shifted to the ground next to him in an almost bashful way.

“Is that offer to help still on the table?”

He couldn't look at you, and he was clearly embarrassed that he needed to ask.

“Of course,” you said, smiling at him.

“I have nothing of value, and will not be able to compensate you in any way. Is that still acceptable?”

“I don't care about anything like that. Just tell me what you need,” you insisted.

“As long as you're certain,” he said, his wings lowering in defeat as he let out another small sigh.

“You were correct last night; bandages would be very useful. It's also been a while since I had a proper meal, so if you could bring me some more food, it would be appreciated.”

“Got it. Anything else?”

“Just that for now.”

Nodding at him, you hurried out of the park and to the nearest grocery store. One quick trip later and you had returned, holding a bag full of bandages, medical supplies and food that you hoped he would like.

He hummed as he looked through it, picking out the bandages and ripping the packaging open. He glanced over to you a few times as he did so, looking more embarrassed every time he looked away.

“... Do you want me to leave?” you asked.

“If that is alright with you,” he mumbled, “I don't wish to be rude after you've done me a favor, but the majority of my interactions with your kind have been largely.... Unpleasant. I would feel more comfortable if-”

“It's alright. I get it,” you said.

“Thank you,” he said, sighing in relief.

You made your way to the 'entrance' of the clearing, then stopped.

“Can I ask you one thing, though?”

He looked nervous again, but nodded slowly.

“Can you tell me your name?” you asked, smiling at him.

“..... Kurapika.”

“So what do you normally eat?” you asked, resting your chin on your knees.

“Before I came here I largely ate the animals that I could hunt down,” Kurapika answered, “but the majority of the animals in this city are domesticated, and I couldn't bring myself to hunt any of them.”

“Why?”

He glanced away, a slight pout on his face.

“Just thinking about killing someone's pet for food made me feel badly, even if I was desperate enough for that.”

Kurapika sat across from you in the clearing, taking bites out of the lunch you had brought him for the day. He had forbidden you from visiting him more than once per day, in the event that your behavior would stick out as being suspicious to anyone that was trying to hunt him. So you went once every day under the guise of eating lunch in the park, secretly taking him a big meal that could get him through until the next day.

You wanted to ask about his life before he had become a fugitive, but you knew that would only cut your visit short. Any question that was even vaguely related to where he had come from and how he had ended up in this situation would result in him clamming up. It was clearly something that still caused him immense amounts of pain, and you didn't want to add to it. So you did your best to steer your conversations to more mundane subjects that you hoped wouldn't upset him. It had taken a lot of effort and convincing him that you were on his side and that all you wanted was to help him, and you didn't want to ruin that by asking intrusive questions.

His wings were in slightly better shape (after he reluctantly allowed you to help him clean them) though a lot of them were still growing back in.

“How long did you say your molting period lasts again?”

“About two months,” said Kurapika, “I believe it's been a little over a month since I started, so it should be over soon. Then I'll be able to leave this area.”

“Do you think the people who hurt you will follow after?”

“Most likely. But when my molting has ended they won't have a trail of my feathers to hunt me down again,” he said.

“I really do have to thank you,” he continued, “you helping me like this means I don't need to go out and risk getting caught.”

“Happy to help,” you said, grinning.

“I think I'll be sad when you leave, though.”

“I can't remain here,” he said, finishing up the last of his meal.

“I know. But I'll miss being able to talk to you. I really like you.”

Kurapika paused, looking over you carefully before snapping his head away, another blush on his face.

“We barely know each other. Ridiculous.”

You just smiled in response.

Although he stopped mentioning it out loud, he was continually perplexed by your willingness to help him. There were many times during your visits with him that he would watch you carefully, or even watch the woods that surrounded the two of you as if anticipating an ambush. While he trusted you enough at this point to believe that you had no intentions of harming him, he didn't trust that you wouldn't be followed, and he emphasized to be on the lookout for anyone who seemed suspicious.

You weren't sure what exactly counted as suspicious until you happened across the two magic beast hunters.

Walking by a crowded plaza, it seemed quieter than was expected. Everyone there was speaking in hushed whispers and seemed nervous about something. The air around the plaza made you pause, and you looked around the area to see what exactly was causing people to behave in this way.

Then you saw the hunters, armed to the teeth with an array of gnarly looking weapons accosting some old man. One of them was tall with a stocky build, looking smug while his partner, a smaller scruffy-looking man with far more knives than was reasonable did the talking. You frequently saw the old man make an attempt to leave but the hunters wouldn't let him, the bigger one going as far as to grab him by the shoulder to keep him in place while the other continued to speak to him, waving one of Kurapika's feathers in his face.

Oh shit.

You wanted to just run out of there and get away from them as fast as you could, but that would have gotten their attention. It would be less suspicious if you followed the example of the others you saw in the plaza and quietly left. Surely they wouldn't notice you among the dozens of others hoping to leave without attracting their attention.

It was easier to breathe when you had made it to the side streets, and when you saw Kurapika that day you told him everything. When you had described them to him, his hand went back to the healing wound on his stomach.

“Those were the ones who attacked me. You're certain they didn't see you?” he asked.

“I'm sure of it. There were too many other people around for them to have noticed me.”

“Alright. But if you ever see them again, don't come that day. Right now I'm still too weak to fight them, so if they found me it'd be over.”

You nodded. He wasn't back to 100% yet, but he had been doing much better since you had begun to help him. Even so, you didn't want to let him go without food for a day, but it was better that he go hungry for a bit instead of being captured.

There was a tense air that stayed over the next few days, and you noticed a change in Kurapika. Dark circles were forming under his eyes and you asked if he hadn't been sleeping well. Instead of actually answering your question he told you not to worry about it.

That only made you worry more.

This particular day you had asked him if he was doing okay, and he said that he was fine, brushing away your concerns, his annoyance evident.

But not five minutes later he fell over.

Directly onto you.

It was almost panic-inducing when it happened, and the first thought that went through your mind was that he had literally dropped dead. But after a moment you could see that he was still breathing. Given the dark circles that were under his eyes, Kurapika seemed to have passed out due to sheer exhaustion.

'You can't stay with him. You have work in an hour,' you thought to yourself.

So why were you adjusting him so his head could rest comfortably on your lap?

He'd probably be mad at you if you stayed with him while he was completely vulnerable. If there was one thing you learned during your time with him, he hated to appear to be weak in front of others.

But the thought of just leaving him passed out on the forest floor left a bad taste in your mouth.

After a few minutes, you called your work to say that you were sick and couldn't come in. As expected, your manager was upset and berated you over the phone. At least that call only lasted a few minutes. The money you would lose today would hurt a little bit, especially with all of the spending you'd been doing on Kurapika, but when you looked back down at his sleeping form, you were confident that you'd made the right choice.

Kurapika slept soundly on your lap, his wings and tail twitching from time to time. You laid a hand on his head, slowly stroking his blonde hair. Your touch was light, and yet you heard him let out a soft sigh and saw his body relax further. How long had it been since he had received a kind touch from anyone? Likely just as long as the last time anyone had shown him any kindness. Your thoughts went again to the questions he wouldn't answer: what had happened to his friends and family? How had he ended up like this?

You thought of those questions, and yet you could make a pretty good guess as to the answers. He had been alone on the streets digging through the trash for food, covered in wounds and dirt, carrying no money and being chased by hunters. If his life was in danger like that, then it was clear that his loved ones weren't alive anymore.

Time passed, and the sun dipped lower into the sky while Kurapika continued to sleep. You let him stay as he was, even when it was becoming uncomfortable for you as your legs began to fall asleep.

There wasn't a lot you could do for him, and while it hurt to admit it, what you were able to do for him wouldn't be much in the long run. But even if it helped in even the slightest, you wanted to do whatever you could.

It was nearing evening when he finally stirred, his wings fluttering slightly as he blearily opened his eyes. He seemed to take a little bit to fully awaken and realize the situation, his eyes widening in surprise and looking up at you.

You were expecting him to become upset. To shoot up and ask what you were doing, or to just turn away from you and tell you to leave.

But instead he stayed as he was, head on your lap as he continued to look up at you.

The silence was becoming awkward for you, and you cleared your throat before explaining “sorry. You fell asleep and, uh, I didn't feel good just leaving you.”

He stared at you, unblinking.

“I don't remember falling asleep,” Kurapika finally said.

“You just fell over,” you explained, laughing a bit as you continued, “fell over right onto me, actually.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“Ah! No, I'm fine.”

“That's good,” he said.

Kurapika pushed himself up, switching to a sitting position in front of you. He glanced about the clearing and noted how late it was.

“Isn't it too late for you to be here? Didn't you have work?” he asked.

“It's fine. I called in.”

“Won't that be an issue?”

“Ah, well. My coworkers won't be happy with me, and I'll probably get bullied a bit by the manager tomorrow,” you explained, but you tried to change your tune when you noticed how his face fell.

“It's fine, though! It's not the end of the world because I called in one day of work.”

He didn't look convinced, but he seemed to concede as he sighed at you (just how often had he sighed at you at this point?).

“Shouldn't you head back to your home? In case someone goes there to check up on you?”

“There isn't going to be anybody coming to check on me,” you assured him.

“You should still head back; you've been out here too long,” he insisted.

“Okay. But, uh,” you began, scratching the back of your head, “could I wait a little bit? My legs are still asleep.”

“That's fine.”

The both of you stayed where you were, sitting in the clearing while you waited for the feeling to return to your legs and feet. Kurapika was still staring at you, a thoughtful look on his face. Just as you had been surprised earlier that he hadn't immediately retreated from you when he'd woken up, it was unusual that he stayed this close to you. He hadn't made any move to back away. It was a stark contrast to how things had been when you had first met.

“You don't have to keep an eye on me, you know?”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“I just mean, you don't have to wait on me until I leave. If you've got other things to do, you don't have to keep your attention on me. As soon as my legs feel better I'll be out of here.”

You weren't sure what other things he might need to do without you there, but you didn't want to assume that there was nothing. With the way he was staring at you, it felt as though you were inconveniencing him in some way.

“It's fine,” he said. You hummed an affirmative, and the silence fell back over you.

When you felt like you were able to safely walk again, he spoke.

“You remind me of someone I once knew.”

… This was new. Kurapika had never talked about anyone other than the beast hunters that were trying to track him down.

“In what way?” you asked.

“Going out of your way to look out for me. Taking care of me, even at your own expense,” he added wistfully. There was a distant look in his eyes as he appeared to recall his memories of this person.

“Were they.... Like you?” you asked, unsure if that was the best way to phrase the question.

“Yes. His name was Pairo, and he was part of our clan,” said Kurapika, “he died with the rest of them when a group of murderers found our home.”

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I can't imagine what you've been through.”

He hummed noncommittally, seemingly lost in his thoughts.

“Are they the one who're chasing you?” you asked.

Kurapika let out a harsh breath that resembled a laugh.

“If they were I wouldn't be talking to you,” he said, “they didn't seem to care that one of us happened to not be there. At this point, I wonder if they even remember about my people and what they did to them. No, the ones who are after me are petty bottom-feeders. Apparently they want to sell me off as being an exotic pet.”

“They're... Hunting you for that? But then why did they hurt you?” you asked, looking at his bandaged wounds.

“Doesn't seem like they're that good at taking something alive. I suppose I'm lucky that they're not trying to kill me,” he scoffed, “if I'm having such trouble with rabble like them, it's only a testament to how weak I really am, and how much stronger I'll need to become if I want revenge for Pairo and the others.”

You didn't know how to respond. You couldn't respond. There was nothing you could say to offer him any sort of comfort, and any sort of encouragement or guarantees that things would be fine would be insulting.

“I'm sorry,” you said again.

He didn't answer you.

You stood up on slightly shaking legs, giving him a short goodbye and promising to see him tomorrow. He nodded in response.

The next day he was gone.

The clearing was virtually empty with no signs that he had been there other than the feathers that you had grown so accustomed to. It was the first time since you started this that he was gone when you went to visit, and your first thought was that he needed to leave to take care of something....... In the middle of the day. While trying to lay low.

Yeah, maybe not.

Your next assumption was that he had been discovered and taken away. But surely there would be some evidence of a struggle, right? And there was nothing that indicated that Kurapika had left unwillingly. Then the next thought was that he had found a new hiding place. Maybe those hunters had come a bit too close for his liking and he felt like he needed to find someplace safer, and he just didn't have a way to find you and tell you where it was yet.

That last scenario somehow seemed less likely than the other two, and you were forced to reconcile with the idea that he had left.

It wasn't too unexpected. He'd been getting better, and his molting was almost finished so he'd be able to fly about safely.

You had just hoped that he would've told you so you could have given him a proper farewell.

Maybe what had happened the day before had upset him more than you had realized. That hadn't been your intention, but who knew what it had looked like to him.

But he had opened up to you a bit more, hadn't he?

It was confusing and you didn't understand, but the longer you stood in that empty clearing, you accepted that he was gone, and your chances of seeing him again were likely nothing.

You tried to be happy for him. It was a good thing that he was able to finally leave the area. Hopefully he could get to someplace safer, maybe not need to worry about those people hunting him down, or at least get far enough away that they would have a hard time finding him again.

But even then, you couldn't help but feel sad that he really was gone.

You set the bag of food meant to be his lunch in the middle, just in case he did come back and needed something. It seemed unlikely, but you felt better leaving it for him. As you weaved back through the trees that surrounded the space, you picked up one of his errant feathers that had been caught in a branch, running your fingers over it. A small memento; something to remember him by. It was the most you could ask for, and you told yourself to be happy that you were able to help the way you did.

With you being so caught up in these thoughts, you didn't notice one of the hunters from earlier standing at the edge of the park, or the way he watched you as you left.

It was another Sunday night after work: your feet hurt from standing too much, your back and arms hurt from the overwork, and if you needed to hear one more complaint from an entitled customer you'd probably stab your own ears just to get away from those shrill voices. The one consolation you had was that you weren't working the closing shift and didn't need to worry about taking care of customers while simultaneously trying to close up for the night. Once the end of your shift came around, all you needed to do was run to the break room, gather your things and escape.

One day you'd get a better job, you told yourself. Something that you actually enjoyed and wouldn't cause you ungodly amounts of stress. You just needed to figure out what that could be.

Your thoughts went back to Kurapika as you walked the familiar path back to your home. It wasn't all that long that he had been around, really, and yet the idea of not seeing him again felt strange to you.

You pulled out the feather that you stowed away in your bag, looking it over again. With how busy you had been throughout your shift, you had managed to take your thoughts away from him, but now that things were more quiet, he was all you could think about.

It wasn't too late yet, with some people walking along the same walkway as you, but that didn't stop the car that suddenly pulled up next to you.

Or the man who opened the door and pulled you inside.

The amount of force he had used to grab you almost broke your arm, and all you could do was scream as you were shoved against the seat as the man who had grabbed you yelled at the other to drive while he shut the door behind you, keeping his forearm on your throat to the point that you could hardly breathe.

A knife in your face and him yelling at you to “shut the fuck up” made you silent, and your fingers latched onto the seat beneath you, your nails tearing holes into the worn fabric.

The car sped along, almost hitting several other vehicles and pedestrians in the process. Doing your best to calm down, you realized that the men who had grabbed you were the hunters you had been avoiding; the bigger one in the driver's seat while the smaller one waved one of his knives around, nicking your face a few times when the car lurched him from side to side.

It finally stopped on an empty embankment by a river. The water that rushed through the canal was almost black and it was impossible to see to the bottom.

'They're going to kill me,' you thought. 'They're going to kill me and then dump my body in the water.'

Your heart was beating in your ears when the smaller hunter began speaking.

“Let's make this quick, okay? A lotta people saw our little stunt and the police'll probably be here soon,” he said.

“We really need to know where that bird boy went. Tell us everything you know, and you'll be able to get home safely. If not-”

He grabbed one of your hands and held it up to your face.

“- I'm gonna to cut off your fingers one by one 'til you talk, and then they'll need to fish your body out of the river when we're done with you. If you're smart, you'll pick the first option.”

You sat there in shock as this man spoke so matter-of-factly about brutally torturing and murdering you while the man behind him sat there grinning.

There was a lump in your throat, and you couldn't make any sort of sound.

“Listen you stupid bitch,” he hissed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer, “I'm not gonna lose any sleep over killing you. His life is valuable; yours isn't. So tell me where the fuck he is or-”

You spat in his face. There was barely any saliva with how dry your mouth was, but you managed it.

One of his blood veins popped and his lip quivered.

“That was the worst thing you coulda done, you stupid little bitch.”

He barked at the other man to come back and hold you down while his hand went back to your throat, mercilessly choking you to keep you in place. The other man was already stepping out of the car, and with what little you could see, you could tell he seemed excited about the prospect of torturing you.

You tried to pull the knife man's hand off of your throat as he waited for his partner to walk around the car.

And he waited.

And waited.

Black spots were beginning to appear at the edge of your vision when he finally loosened his grip, leaning forward over you to look for his partner through the car windows.

A loud crash from the front of the car startled you both. His hand left your throat completely, and while he turned his gaze to the front, you lurched to the side, desperately grabbing at the door handle.

He noticed your escape attempt with a sharp cry, and you felt something slice down your back as you opened the door and stumbled out.

There weren't any thoughts running through your head as you ran; you were going off of a pure primal instinct and a desire to get out of there and survive.

Noises sounded from behind you: the sound of something flapping and a scream. But you could barely acknowledge them, your eyes only focused on the lights on the road next to the embankment.

You could feel blood running down your back as you ran but you didn't stop. Even when you had put several blocks between you and that car you didn't stop. You needed to get to safety, and that could only be found with other people.

A figure dropped down from the sky in front of you and you ran right into them. They wrapped their arms around you and you screamed, bashing your fists against their chest while you struggled to get out of their grasp.

“Calm down,” a familiar voice said.

You stopped, slowly looking back up to see who was holding you.

In your adrenaline-fueled haze, you managed to not notice the wings the person hand.

“Kurapika-!”

You sobbed into his chest, your hands grabbing the fabric of his shirt while he soothed you. His hand ran down your back and you winced, the skin still tender from where you had been slashed.

“We need to get out of here,” he said.

“Th-those two-!”

“I took care of them. Now hold onto me.”

Kurapika picked you up bridal-style, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. He lifted off the ground as his wings pulled him up, and within moments you were in the sky, miles above the buildings that littered the ground. The air was chillier up here, and as he flew, the wind stung your back-wound, making you bury your face into his neck.

You could vaguely make out him apologizing to you, and something about promising to fix you up. The wind made it hard to hear it, though.

It felt like only seconds had passed when he touched down on top of a large building, carefully lowering you to the ground while continuing to hold you, his wings folding over you to barricade you from the wind.

He ran his hand down your back, careful to avoid the cut while you took in huge gulps of air as you tried to calm down.

Half an hour passed before you could properly form a sentence. You pulled away from him slightly, your tears mostly dry now. There were a lot of questions running around in your mind, and you didn't know where to start.

“I thought you left,” you whispered.

“I did. But I got a bad feeling, so I came back. I'm so glad I did,” he said, a hand trailing down your cheek, “it would have been devastating if I found out that those two had killed you.”

For the first time, you noticed that his hands were covered in blood, but you didn't say anything.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I- thank you.”

He didn't say anything for some time, and the two of you sat there on that roof. There was still pain coming from you back and you were about to ask that he take you somewhere to get that fixed when he spoke.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“I can't stay here, and therefore I can't be around to protect you,” he explained, “if those men told anyone else about you, your life is still in danger.

“I was wrong when I left you like that, because for the first time in a long time, I finally have someone who I can't bare to lose. It'll be hard, but I want to rebuild my clan together with you. Once I get my revenge, I want to spend the rest of my days with you. So please, say you'll come with me.”

Kurapika held you tightly against him, his tail wrapping around your ankle.

“Please, let me have this little bit of selfishness,” he breathed.

“..... Okay.”

He tilted your head up to meet your lips in a kiss, and you found yourself pushing up into it, closing your eyes while his wings remained caged around you.

[popculturebuffet]

Amphibia Reviewcaps: The Dinner/Battle of the Bands “It’s You”

Hello all you happy people! And i’m almost to the finish line.  6 months (subtracting the ones where there were no new episodes) worth of weekly coverage and with next week i’ll have completed my second full season of reivews of a show as they came out, and my first full season of amphibia. If you’d like to see season 1 it’s up high on my stretch goals at 45 with reviews of Disney movies based on shows (The Proud Family, Recess and Kim Possible), Gravity Falls and more along the way if your curious. Check it out HERE. I’m also doing exclusive reviews eveyr month now with the coasional one thrown in randomly so check that out. New period starts in a week so please join before then.

So naturally with the big finale and all the tensions in amphibia close to reaching a boil next week, this week’s a bit more low key. Still not unimportant, with some massively good character work and in fact The Dinner is easily one of my faviorites of the season, but still nothing to move the plot too far forward. Just some nice character stuff to help inch us towards the climax next week. The calm before my heart is stillbeatingly ripped out of my chest. Which I will grant the show, having my heart ripped out Mola Ram style by some combination of Brenda Song and Keith David is how I wanted to go, i’m just not ready yet. So while I steel myself for the utter heartbreak of next week, I have my throughts on this weeks episodes under the cut!

The Dinner: 

I did tip my hand a bit by saying this was one of my faviorties of the season.. and I stand by that. This one was excellent. It was rife with tension while still somehow being a fun breather episode before hell arrives. 

As the title suggest the Plantars are having Grime and Sasha over for a fancy dinner, followed by games and such. Only Annearcy are happy about this though, Marcy still not getting quite how bad Sasha has gotten during her stay here and Anne hoping she has changed.  The Plantars, Sprig in paticular, still resent them for the whole toad tower fiasco, which is fair. You don’t forget someone trying to murder you over night, let alone your whole town. Hop Pop is using Frobo as the Grill by the way which is just visually fucktacular I gotta admit. He does get some more use these episodes, being used as a Grill here and as the fog machine and Polly’ sminon next episode. Good work boy. That’s my robot frog soldier builder whatever you are. 

Sasha and Grime are likewise not enthused. Sasha isn’t because her friends expect her to “Ugh” change and grow and stuff and isn’t happy about it and is confident she can return to rulling over them once her plan is done. Dude.. that’s not how a healthy throuple works. Or a healthy anything. Grime is more worried about her blowing it with her anger and control issues, but feels. this is VITAL to convincing the plantars to trust them long enough for their plan to go off. He even demands she remove her sword and all her knives... and she has a lot of them. Evne in her boot “How do you even walk?” Good question grime. 

My answer?

So what follows is about 8 minutes of the most hilariously awkward dinner since that time Micheal Scott decided to have a dinner party even though his relationship was horribly crumbling, as everyone but Anne and Marcy shoves their foot in their mouth at some point or makes some sort of screw up. Oh and Polly I guess she’s more content to just watch the show. Seriously i’m not usually a fan of cringe comedy.. but the series makes it work here as our heroes attempt to interact with thier old eneimeis and vice versa. 

For starters we have our guests arrvial, where Grime and Sasha both look objectively terrifying before things cool down. Then we have dinner itself where both Hop Pop and Grime prove to be the racist kind of grandpa as Grime asks what frogs they subjigated to get these turnips and Hop Pop makes an awkward lightbulb joke about Toads that Grime finds hilarious but everyone else was rightfully afraid would get the old man gutted by the other more violent old man. I imagine this happened a lot on the Lost Light once Megatron took over co captiancy. You just don’t fight a guy for a good hundered years without being nervous he’s going to blast you to fucking pieces. 

Sprig dosen’t help before all this by taking a seat next to anne and marcy specifically to piss her off, and out of all of them is the most openly hostile to her. Given Anne’s his best friend and Sasha did a LOT of emotional damage to her.. yeah fair enough. 

Things only esclate when it comes to frog pictionary. Suprisingly Hop Pop gets Grime’s Drawins and Sasha gets his, with both her and sprig trading escalating barbs and her barely containing her rage when Anne calls her on it since unlike her, Sprig has a reason to still be upset with her. This reaches a breaking point when Sasha attempts things, trying to desperatly win her friends back with the old times now they have their ownt imes apart.. only for Sprig to accidnetlay mock Sasha’s near sucicide,s aying she “slipped”.. granted I do think he geninely just can’t forgive her.. but it’s very clear she did not.. she let herself go to save them, and he’s just as in denial about it as Sasha and just as much a dick about it. 

Sasha flips out at him, and gets penalized for talking which only pisses her off MORE and understandably so. Anne leaps to the plantar’s defense but honestly.. both sides are understandabliy angry here. The Plantars are right to still not trust her after everything especially since she hasn’t outright apologized to them and her and Grime’s general response to the incident is “One Time!”... which works for say, taking the last slice of pizza without asking or slamming their face in a car door, but not so much “Trying to murder all of you for personal and stupid reasons.”. But at the same time Sprig DID cross the line really bad when she saved his fucking life. It dosen’t automaitcally erase the bad things she did but it dosen’t give him lisence to mock her. WHile I get he’s 10 and dosen’t get it was part suicide, he still is blantaly ignoring her trying to do something selfless because he can’t admit there’s any good in Sasha. Sasha is not a GREAT person.. but there IS good in her. She just has to WANT to seek that out instead of her inherent seflishness and need for control and Anne and Marcy are absolutely right for trying to help her instead of just slamming the door in her face. 

But soon eveyroen gets distracted by the cake which floods the room with molten lava. Hop Pop assumes it was some sort of trick.. but hilariously turns out no, Grime really was trying to be nice. That’s just how this works and it’s delcious once it hardens.. assuming you survivie the hornets, with fighting them being the best part of it. And yes hornets shoot out of the cake. Are you suprised at this point? They also paralize grime leaving our heroes without the one person among them who knows what their doing. 

SO our heroines are forced to fight some hornets, with Sasha trying to take lead.. only for Anne to do so and succeed at it, figuring out that while weapons can’t pierce them their own stingers might and having Marcy use her crossbow to launch the stinger in grime at them, and then has Sasha distract the rest to take them out. 

So our heroines reconcile with Sasha admitting she might not want to change and Anne admitting that’s okay.. she just has to accept things have changed with THEM and that her friends HAVE. And genuinely or not Sasha agrees to that, while Grime is bummed he missed the party and the lava hardens into chocolate, with eveyrone enjoying some cake and dead insects. As you do

Final Thoughts on The Dinner: As I said, this is one of the best episodes of the season> The tension is paltable, and it dosen’t fully resolve it, rightly as we still have one final season to go for that. More than that.. it’s hilarious. All the jokes land, and there were far too many to get into here. 

Battle of the Bands:

Now this is a classic breather episode, our last chance to rest and get all slice of lifey before things go up in flames next week. 

With the town all nervous because of Sasha and Grime’s presence, Mayor Toadstool decides to spin the wheel of fun to decide on an activity. I can’t remember if this is a new thing or not but I loves it. It lands on Battle of the Bands so the girls decide to get their old band Sasha and the Sharks back together. As for the rest of the cast, Hop Pop and Sprig join a Jug band and Grime has his own musical domination to plot out, so that just leaves us with the thropule, Poly and Frobo for an episode. 

The group have fun... until Anne unveils her heartfelt song based on her time here. Well okay only Sasha isn’t having fun and quickly tries to take over, as you’d expect and Anne pushes back as you’d expect. Sasha takes her ball and goes home as.. you get it by now> The plot here is not very complex or unique.

But as with all the Sasha episodes this season including the last one, we get a deeper sense of her character. Here she outright admits she dosen’t know what to do when she’s not in control. She needs to be in charge of the situation. It also explains why unlike Marcy and Anne she didn’t change for the better: Her need for control shuts out any possiblity of self reflection and thus self improvment. Self Improvment, and I know this from experince, requires you to admit your flaws and face them. It’s something I can admit to struggling with as I fall back into old patterns often. Admitting flaws would be admitting a loss of Control and Sasha.. can’t. She honestly can’t. 

Of all people i’ts TOADIE who convinces her sometimes i’ts better to let someone else take the lead and that it’s better to support the ones you love than subjugate them. Granted Toadie himself is too far in the opposite direction, but he makes a valid point.. something I never thought i’d say. Sometimes you just have to let someone do what they want.. and watching her two girlfriends perform up on stage.

I also will say I love a good talent show, battle of the bands what have you episode. One of my faviorite movies, True Stories, climaxes in one. 

And yes that was John Goodman and yes he does indeed sing...

Seriously watch this movie. It’s fucking amazing. And yes that was the Talking Heads David Byrne, he wrote this movie and there’s two talking heads songs in it. Watch it. 

Point is we get a great one, paticuarlly chuck. 

He grows SINGIN tulips just a fun one.. but i’ts that finale with the girls that really makes it with Sasha realizing that them being HAPPY is better than her being in control..and they didn’t grow PAST HER or leave her behind just because they grew.. they simply should be free to be themselves. And that maybe trying to conquer a country just to do that ain’t right. IT’s really sweet

So she runs in to do the guitar solo, and its aweosme and they only don’t win because it turns out Grime is fucking MAJESTIC on a harp. But Sasha finally grows a bit admitting that having fun is what mattered... 

And it’s abotu to burst as Mayor Toadstool, in a show of how far he’s come, points out Anne is leaving soon and Anne gives a heartfelt goodbye to everyone.. that said.... someone clearly has other plans.. and for once i’ts NOT Sasha. 

There’s nothing but foreshadowing in that face. That’s a face that says “Uh.. about that”. And again SASHA is showing emotinal vunerablity and hapiness.. but it’s Marcy, whose pretty open emotiionally whose visably worried and clearly knows Andrias has other plans.. other plans he talked her into. Gratned he probably didn’t tell her said plans involve The Watcher with a Thousand Eyes, but she still KNOWS she’s plottingthings.. and know’s she’s about to betray the people closest to her. 

Before we move on though those outfits ar esharp. Just damn. Especially Sasha’s punk look. The songs this episode are also both excellent and I had no idea Brenda Song and Anna Akana could sking like that. God damn. 

So with Anne leaving for home she gets one last group photo. It’s majestic and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts: This one is pretty good. Not a lot to talk about outside of Sasha but a really fun episode that both moves her foward and moves us toward the finale. ANd it’s nice to see the three just happy together... before the hell that’s about to arrive. 

Next Week: War Were Declared, our heroes prepare to fight bravely against the hoard of toads... and both Sasha and Marcy come to the crossroads of destiny Tommorow ON This Blog:

So it’s up to Jean Grey and Emma Frost to go in and sort it out.. and then fight off the full might of an alien empire. No pressure. 

Until the next rainbow it’s been a pleasure

[tazmilyxfamily]

{ been thinking about the similarities/differences between my Lucas and my Hornet and it’s... interesting. }

{ first of all, there’s the whole relationship to their respective dragons (the PK in Hornet’s case and the Dark Dragon in Lucas’s). Lucas was not born with it; he gave the Dark Dragon his soul heart after a long journey, fighting to pull the Needles that slowly strengthened their bond to each other before they finally sealed the deal in the end. Hornet, on the other hand, was born into being half-wyrm. 

Lucas embraces his dragon form once he understands it, while Hornet never brings it up if she can help it. In general, any muse is a million times more likely to accidentally find out about Lucas being draconic than they are about Hornet, and it’d likely be a point of tension between the two if they ever found out each other’s secrets. 

she sees no reason to take advantage of it, after all, such vanity reminding her of her father, while Lucas doesn’t fully understand why he shouldn’t take at least some advantage of it. he fought to get this power even if it wasn’t his goal! why ignore and hide it completely? }

{ then there’s fights and how they handle them. Hornet doesn’t pick her battles and neither does Lucas, both having picked up the mantra of "kill or be killed" out of necessity (Hornet had little choice with the infected bugs, Lucas had little choice with the chimera/Pigmasks) and carrying it with them even once they’re out of their respective situations. 

they also both enjoy the very act of fighting, the main difference here being that Lucas will fight for fun while Hornet may just so happen to find a particular fight enjoyable, as she finds it interesting when the non-infected bugs she encounters can actually offer her some challenge. 

there’s also Hornet’s lack of variety vs Lucas’s wide variety but tbh there’s nothing really there to say beyond mentioning it }

{ last but not least, the thematical opposition between H/ollow K/night and M/other 3. 

the R/adiance is both the antagonist and referred to as natural; an innate part of every bug that cannot be fully suppressed without destroying them. the Infection takes everyone back to their roots and then some. it both strengthens and reduces them, even destroying them itself once the Infection’s presence in the crossroads becomes stronger. in this instance, nature is the problem.

Porky and his Pigmasks are the exact antithesis to this. the chimera are anything but natural, this especially being the case with the mechanical ones, and the whole point is to save nature from the more “civilized” world as shown in even the title itself (look at the normal title vs the end game title here). 

but what’s especially interesting is that this opposition is not absolute. while Hornet may not embrace the Infection, she still prefers following the more ‘natural’ order of the world (hunting for her own food, living in dens/burrows, not necessarily needing to be ‘united’, etc.) and would reject the idea of bringing back the supposed civility her father had granted. Lucas is in a similar boat - albeit much less committed to the other side - in understanding that humanity needs at least some form of civility as long as it’s not overdoing it and screwing people over (a sentiment Hornet shares even if it isn’t the exact same type of civility) }

{ also this isn’t really a difference between them but i find it funny that the HK fanon often portrays Hornet as angry while the M3 fanon had Lucas be a crybaby so the way i write them basically swaps their fanon and makes it more bearable lmao }

[trobbio-silksong]

A03 Link

Hornet has had many titles throughout her life; numerous names gained, lost, fought for and forgotten. 

“Protector,” wondered by the few she allowed through Hallow Nest’s borders, “Fiend,” by those she did not. If they managed to escape her at all, that is. 

“Beast,” sneered by the high-nobility of Hallow Nest, or at least those brazen enough to speak it aloud. They were never quite brave enough to speak it to her face.

“Wyrmling,” whispered by some of Deepnest, those displeased and discontented by her heritage. She sometimes wished she could apologize for what it cost.

“Gendered child,” “Fierce thorn,” called out by her father’s wife, at least before the gargantuan goddess hid herself away. The pale queen had always been kind to her, but ethereally distant in a way that hurt.

“Child,” “Little one,” “Blessed gift,” spoken by her mother, in what few tender memories she held of her. The warmth of those memories protected her from the cold reality of the world.

“Hornet,” granted to her by the Hive, bestowed by her queen-teacher along with her mother’s last gift. Even now, the name and needle served her well.

Yes, Hornet had many names. Countless titles created, broken, born to and stolen. But, there was one she favored above all else, signed by the shaky and enthused hands of her siblings.

“Sister.”

[mrslittletall]

Title: Off Balance (Chapter 7) Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: The Pale King, The Pure Vessel, Herrah, Hornet Word Count: 10.962 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21805333/chapters/58496248 Previous chapter: https://mrslittletall.tumblr.com/post/616114517764685824/title-off-balance-chapter-6-fandom-hollow

Summary: The Pale King and Hollow venture into Deepnest to meet up with Herrah, so that Hollow can meet their sister. Not everything goes smoothly.

(Author's note: Long chapter is long!

I would have liked to cut this chapter in two, but it feels like it has to be this long, it would feel wrong to cut it in half and publish as two chapters. There was so much I wanted to put into this chapter and I am satisfied I managed, I am just amazed that I managed to break the 10k word mark. That is the longest chapter I have ever written.

Once again, I need to thank all of you who commented on this piece, your support is what keeps me going.

I also need to thank @catanutella, who draw some art inspired by my fic which you can find here and @ruthlesslistener which latest Hollow Knight oneshot inspired me to add a tiny scene at the end.

Also, I shit you not, I dreamed up a scene for this chapter! Ask me which it was if you want or try to find it our yourself ^^)

“We will take the tram from the Basin to Deepnest.”, the Pale King said to Hollow as they walked away from the palace. “Once we are there, we have to walk the rest by foot.” The Pale King had preferred to take the tram that would lead more closely to Herrah's den, but even though construction works had gone on for a while now, it just never seemed to get finished. Maybe he should use the opportunity and see what the problem was, when he was already there.

“Tram?”, Hollow asked, quickly signing each individual letter, not knowing a sign for the word they just had learned.

“It's a vehicle that moves on rails.”, the Pale King explained. “It can move rather fast and get you from one point of Hallownest to another in a short amount of time, but it is fixed on one layer. The tram we are going to take will get us to the lower levels of Deepnest and then we need to climb up to meet Herrah at her den.”

“Understood.”, Hollow signed, silently following the Pale King, only the foot steps of their void feet, mixing with the clacking of the Pale King's claws, were heard. If one didn't knew they were there, it was easy to forget about their presence. The familiar guilty pang bloomed in the Pale King's chest, his teachings of not to feel anything had made them that way, that was the only reason they were so good at being silent, at acting as if they wouldn't exist.

It was only a short walk to the tram station, Hollow didn't even need any help, their balance had improved vastly over the last week, they mostly still had trouble with balance while trying to fight and when teleporting, they just wouldn't be able to stand straight after it, they always would get pulled down by their horns, having a few painful impacts with the floor whenever the Pale King hadn't managed to catch them in time. It had gone so far that they had to transfer the training near a soul statue, so that they could deal with the constant cracks in their shell. For how much the Pale King encouraged Hollow to make their own decision, training until they were so dry of Soul they could barely stand wasn't one he approved of, they could be surprisingly stubborn about their training. He just wondered from who Hollow had inherited that train, or not, he exactly knew from who they had inherited it.

Arrived at the tram station, the Pale King breathed out a short sigh of relief at how empty it was. This particular station was mostly occupied by bugs coming from and going to Deepnest, which wasn't a common occurrence. The main reason why the Pale King didn't want to ride the stag ways, even though he had ordered to build them, wasn't only that the stags weren't too fond at his decision to build the trams, but rather that they were riddled with bugs, bugs who would stare at him, bow to him and do nothing but praise him, a thing that was fine when they were far away, but felt extremely awkward when he was in the middle of it. He would feel like wanting to run away screaming, but would be forced to stay and act regal, he was their king after all, a higher being. It would only make him incredible cramped and would give him a desire to stay in the palace for a whole year, he wouldn't be a good role model for Hollow as well. They had picked up on his anxiety anyway already, no need to display it in front of them any more.

The Pale King pulled out the tram pass he had organized before they left and inserted it in the slot at the station, only a short while later the tram arrived. Hollow stared at it and if they would have been able to make an expression, the Pale King could swear their eyeholes would have gone larger.

“That is the tram.”, the Pale King said and moved closer to the door. “Let us enter.”

The both of them entered and the tram was as empty as the station in front of them, which was much to the Pale King's preference. That was the good thing about having a bad relationship with Deepnest, nobody ever wanted to go there. The Pale King sat down and gestured for Hollow to sit down next to him. As the tram rumbled and started moving, the Pale King noticed that Hollow fidgeted with their fingers.

“Are you nervous?”, he asked them.

“Yes.”, Hollow signed and the Pale King laid his claws on their shoulder. One of the advices in Monomon's letter, make your child feel safe and understood when they are unsure. Physical affection always seemed to help with Hollow.

There were a few minutes of silence before Hollow signed: “What is Deepnest like?”

“It's a dark place.”, the Pale King replied. “Actually, while we have to wait to arrive at our destination this is a good opportunity to tell you about a few rules.”

Hollow turned their head at the Pale King and cocked it lightly, showing that they were listening.

“Like I said, it is a dark place.”, the Pale King said. “Quite literally. When the White Palace is a place full of light, then Deepnest is a place devoid of light. I, naturally, glow in the dark, so I would like for you to stick close to me.” Hollow nodded as the Pale King got something out of his robes, a tiny glass ball filled with a few glowing flies. “But if we ever get separated, I need you to have this. It is a lumafly lantern. It will grant you light in a dark place.”

Hollow accepted the lantern and stared at it, stroking it with their fingers, observing it from all angles, obviously being fascinated by it. “Of course it would be better if we don't get separated.”, the Pale King said, leaving Hollow a few minutes to observe the lantern until they were satisfied.

“Next, Deepnest isn't a part of the kingdom.”, the Pale King said. “It consists mostly of predators and they could attack us, especially if they are infected.” The Pale King shuddered a bit, the infection was still a problem with no solution. He needed to find one, soon, at least before Hollow would offer to be the Vessel again. He still got an icy feeling in his stomach when he even thought about that scene.

“Herrah is kind of the leader of Deepnest, we don't want to anger her, so don't kill anyone that isn't infected.”, the Pale King said. “It would be better if you use your nail only in an emergency situation, let me handle any predators, I know enough spells to incapacitate them.”

Hollow nodded, but still clutched their nail. The Pale King remembered, that while Hollow had trained with a nail since they hatched, they never actually had gotten send out to fight the infected with the five great knights. They truly were a skilled warrior, but they lacked proper experience.

“So, in short, stay close to me, only use your nail when absolutely necessary. Do you understand?”, the Pale King asked and they confirmed with a nod.

A few more moments of silence and then Hollow signed another question: “Why is sister at Deepnest?” The Pale King noticed that they used the signs for dark and nest for the last word, practically calling it Darknest, but he got it just fine.

“It's because Hornet is watched over by Herrah.”, the Pale King said. “She... was part of the bargain to convince Herrah to be a dreamer. It's.. complicated.”

While the Pale King would have liked to tell Hollow exactly just how Hornet had come into existence, he felt it was a bit too much to unload on them that he practically had engaged in a dalliance with Herrah and Hornet could be considered his bastard child. His Root never had been mad at him for it though and she even seemed fond of Hornet, often talking about her whenever she met up with Herrah. The Pale King assumed that it was kind of a coping mechanism for his Root at the loss of her biological children.

Hollow didn't ask further. Why should they, he had let through that he was uncomfortable talking about this topic and they surely wouldn't pry further. The rest of the ride was spent in silence until the tram came to a screeching halt and Hollow nearly fell over at the sudden loss of balance, being supported by the Pale King who had grabbed the end of their robe.

“We are here.”, he said. “Stay close to me, Hollow.”

Hollow nodded and the both of them exited the tram. Around the station, there was still light, but it was barely possible to see two metres into the dark. Now the daunting task to navigate Deepnest and actually reach Herrah's den was in front of them. The Pale King pulled out a map of the place and planned a route while Hollow was looking at every direction, taking in the sight, or more the darkness, there wasn't much to see.

Once the Pale King had mapped out the route and saved it in his mind, he looked at Hollow who clearly had waited for his attention, because they signed: “Place is dark.” They looked around another time. “Not even birthplace was that dark.”

“Can... can we not talk about this place, please?”, the Pale King said, having a sinking feeling in his stomach, the sinking feeling of several thousand dead children locked in this place.

“Sorry.”, Hollow signed and they looked down, almost toppling over. Whenever they even shifted their horns downwards, their balance would be off at once.

“It's quite alright, Hollow.”, the Pale King said. “I am just... not ready facing that place again.” Or more, he had vowed to himself that he would never return to it. What was the point? Hollow had been the only survivor. All other vessels had been stillborn, cracked shortly after birth or had fell on the way to the top. It had been a cruel thing to watch and he had been a cruel father to let it happen, the guilt gnawing at him even months later.

However, enough about being lost in thoughts. They were on their way to something more bright. At least for Hollow it should be, the Pale King only felt incredibly awkward around Herrah, especially after the had... He shook his head and started to put one foot in front of the other. The sooner they managed to cross Deepnest, the better.

“Follow me and stay close.”, the Pale King said and Hollow nodded, starting to follow him. His natural light illuminated the caves around them, so that there wasn't a need for a light source, like he had explained to Hollow earlier. Most of Deepnest's inhabitants were quite sensitive to light, so he hoped that this would be enough to keep them at bay, even the infected ones. He had overheard some of the Royal Retainers once and some of them had admitted that it downright hurt looking at him, so bright could his light be.

The Pale King looked back to make sure that Hollow was following him. Despite their void nature, they weren't bothered by his light at all and if, they were excellent in hiding it. He saw that they had drawn their nail, despite him telling them earlier to only use it in an emergency situation, but he also knew that Hollow viewed their nail as emotional comfort. They probably only were holding it, with both hands, he realized, one at the handle and one at the tip, to calm themselves down from any fears they felt.

“Hollow, if anything is bothering you, tell me.”, the Pale King said, but Hollow shook their head and continued to follow him. They either were fine with the situation or tried to be brave and the Pale King suspected the latter was the case. However, because he tried to encourage them to be their own person, he didn't want to to make them feel that they couldn't make their own decisions. If he would tell them that they didn't have to be brave, they would only take this as cue to fall completely back into their dependency on him. Getting this mindset out of them was still a work in progress.

The walk was silent, well asides from the noises that Deepnest would make, the constant crawling and chittering of the bugs in the darkness and generally noises that made anyone feel unwelcome here. In the outer parts of Deepnest there lived mostly Dirtcarvers, a predator that would burrow underground and strike when their prey least expected it. Luckily, most of them still seemed to have their wits about them and didn't emerge, probably knowing that even with the bad relationship Hallownest and Deepnest had with each other, that it wouldn't be wise to attack the literal king and whichever bug was following him. On the rare occasions of an infected Dirtcarver emerging, the Pale King summoned a few spears and would incapacitate them in place, still hoping that they could find a cure for the infection and wouldn't have to take down every bug which displayed symptoms. At least the infection didn't seem to have spread too much to Deepnest, for most of the time, their walk was rather peaceful, in lack of better descriptions for Deepnest.

A bit further in, the Pale King spotted the first Deephunters glaring at him, quickly running away once him and Hollow approached, either being bothered by the light or fearing that this prey could be too big for them, not wanting to waste their venom. Of course their venom would be hardly deadly for a Higher Being, but it would still hurt and in too high concentration could start to get deadly, so the Pale King was rather satisfied that he didn't had to fend them back.

Occasionally the Pale King turned around to check on Hollow, once again regretting that he hadn't given them a voice, because without them making a single sound, it was hard to interpret just how they felt. They looked around and took in the surroundings, bravely following him step by step, sometimes needing help climbing a ledge by the Pale King, because jumping still caused them balance troubles and their wings weren't useful for flight, never commenting on the situation, probably because their hands were busy holding their nail and they didn't want to let go to sign or write in their journal.

“Are you feeling fine, Hollow?”, the Pale King asked after they had approximately reached the halfway point to Herrah's Den. Hollow just nodded and seemed to clutch their nail harder.

“Alright then.”, the Pale King said and started walking again. The ground of that tunnel felt kind of off, he thought. It felt like it could burst anytime and just as he realized that the weight of two bugs may be too much for the already fragile ground, it crumbled. In the spur of the moment the Pale King spread his wings to lift himself up, turning around having kind of suspected that Hollow had either jumped or teleported when they felt the ground giving in, but his child was nowhere to be seen.

“Hollow?!”, the Pale King asked, panic blooming in his chest. “Hollow, where are you?!”

Of course they didn't answer, couldn't answer, how could they without a voice. He had to find them and quick. That they weren't anywhere at the edge of the newly formed gap meant, that they probably had fallen down and what if they had gotten hurt and couldn't move and not even cry for help down there? The Pale King got a sinking feeling in his stomach.

“Wait.”, he told himself, in an attempt to calm himself down. “If they have gotten hurt, then they must still be down there.” He flew the gap down, which thankfully wasn't that deep, but still deep enough for a bug to break their shell if they landed wrong and Hollow had the tendency to land on their head when they fell.

They weren't down there. At least that meant they hadn't gotten hurt enough so that they couldn't move or that they were able to heal any injuries with soul, but that was the only comfort the Pale King had. He actually had preferred to found them down there, where he easily would have been able to fix them up with his own soul, them not being there meant that they now were wandering through Deepnest, alone and scared and maybe out of enough soul to heal any injuries they could suffer.

“Hollow?”, the Pale King shouted again. “If you can hear me, make some noise.”

There wasn't anything and the earlier panic manifested back in the Pale King. What if he would never find Hollow again? What if he would only find their shell? What if their shade would get unleashed, lashing out at him for all the suffering he had inflicted on them? What should he tell his Root, that he lost their last living child? He sunk to the ground, heavily breathing, as the panic took completely over. The last time he had felt this hopeless had been when the Radiance nearly had killed him and he needed to channel every last amount of Soul to heal the life threatening injury. At least, that had only been about himself, now, he had lost the very one being he was responsible for, he had started to care so much about and he didn't want to lose for anything in the entirety of Hallownest.

The frantic beating of his heart in his chest slowed down as he made a decision. He wouldn't let Deepnest take his child. The Pale King got up and considered how he should start the search. Sadly, he had neglected to tell Hollow what to do when they got separated, it would be best for them to stay put, but judging how scared they seemed to be off Deepnest, they probably panicked once they got separated and ran away.

The Pale King noticed something on the ground which didn't reflect his light. Only one thing in Hallownest was able to swallow his light and that was... void. Indeed, there were traces of void on the floor, which implied that Hollow indeed had gotten hurt by their fall, but not hurt enough that they couldn't move anymore. If the Pale King would follow the trail, he would find them.

He hadn't followed the trail for long when he caught the glimpse of something white and black hushing along the tunnels, with two very big horns. “Oh, Hollow, there you are.”, the Pale King said, following their figure, not questioning why they didn't stop when they heard his voice or just why they could move so gracefully quick, even though they usually would fall over every few steps at this pace.

“Hollow, wait.”, the Pale King said, “Where are you heading? I am right here. Look, I am sorry that I left you hanging earlier. Aren't you hurt? Let's take a look at your wound.”

Hollow didn't answer, of course, but they also didn't sign or did... anything to show that they heard the Pale King. Sometimes they would stop and wait for the Pale King to catch up before hurrying into the tunnels again. “Have you discovered something and want to show it to me?”, the Pale King asked, getting more and more confused about Hollow's behaviour, a feeling that something was wrong with them grew inside of him, maybe they really had hit their head and now couldn't think straight or some parasite of Deepnest had taken over them. Either way, for the Pale King to help them, he needed to come closer and they always would run away again, when he was close enough to finally reach them.

“Hollow, stop this.”, the Pale King said “This isn't funny anymore.” They had arrived at a rather spacious tunnel and just now the Pale King noticed that there were two things wrong with Hollow.

The first one was, that they weren't carrying the Lumafly Lantern he had given them earlier. Judging from their earlier remark, they couldn't see in the dark.

The second, and that was the more alarming one, was that they weren't carrying their nail they had hold on so conscientiously earlier. Even when they had lost the nail, the Pale King knew that they would go search it before doing anything else. That was probably why they hadn't been there, they had let go of their nail and went to search it in a panic as their comfort item vanished from their grasp.

The suspicions of the Pale King about having faced an imposter became true when the “Hollow” in front of him started to transform and their body turned into one of a big black and orange predator (an infected one), hissing and bubbling at him. Of course it would attack, of all the bugs in Hallownest, he was the one the Radiance wanted to be dead the most.

“Hmph, don't underestimate me.”, the Pale King said, flicking his wrist to summon several projectiles, dictating them to fly at the predator and impale it. He knew he couldn't just incapacitate this one, but judging from the fury the creature had for him, its mind had been completely took over by the will and orders of the Radiance, getting it out of its misery could be considered an act of mercy.

The creature started to charge against him and the Pale King ordered his projectiles to target its head, but shortly before they could impact, he hesitated.

That was still Hollow's face the creature was wearing and even though the Pale King knew that he was unreasonable, after all he did to Hollow, he couldn't bring himself to hurt this face, even if it was clearly an imposter in front of him.

His hesitation was enough that he predator could pin him under its claws, roaring at him. He could practically hear the Radiance's excitement at finally having a chance to strike her arch enemy down, with the help of a powerful predator she had managed to overtake. The Pale King knew that he needed to attack, defend himself, but his gaze was still on the face of Hollow that the imposter was wearing and there was it, that crushing guilt. There was the picture inside of his mind of Hollow cowering in fear when he had made several projectiles fly at them, wanting to test their new balance, still thinking that they were nothing but an empty being, realizing how hard they had tried to pretend and it made him unable to move, even when the claw drove into his flesh, a hot pain searing through his shoulder and blood seeping out of the wound.

The pain briefly brought him back to the severity of the situation, if he wouldn't do something, anything, the predator would cut him down and the Radiance would get her will. Though, why she didn't order the predator to kill him right away... she probably wanted him to suffer, kill him slowly and painfully. He could use this to his advantage. He forced himself to conjure another projectile and hurled it between him and the claw, rolling away when the predator shrieked in protest at the sudden obstacle, struggling to get to his feet. He couldn't fight the creature, not as long as it was wearing Hollow's face and making him incapable of hurting it because of his own guilt, but at least he could flee and find the real Hollow, who hopefully hadn't become a victim of this predator.

That thought, together with the wound, was enough for the Pale King to struggle and fall over, the impact jostling the injury and making him incapable of getting up because of the pain.

“Focus...”, he murmured to himself, trying to conjure soul to heal himself, but it was too late. The predator had already caught up to him and he closed his eyes awaiting the impact of its razor sharp claws in his back, but it never happened. Instead, he heard the sound of metal clashing against claws.

As he opened his eyes and turned his head, he saw Hollow, the real Hollow, standing between him and the predator, their nail fighting against the force of their strike. They were shaking and the Pale King couldn't say if it was from effort or rage. He only knew that he was more than glad to see them, alive and well, though they did get pushed backwards one by one.

Enough of lying around., the Pale King thought to himself and though it would have been more wise to heal his injury first, seeing his child in danger made him lose any reasonable thoughts and so he jumped up and conjured several projectiles, ignoring the pain flaring up from his wound.

“Leave our child alone.”, he hissed, throwing the projectiles at the predator, now that his real child was here, that mind trick wouldn't work on him anymore.

His aim was a bit shaky, but most of the projectiles hit their mark, well, would, if the predator wouldn't have jumped backwards, dodging a majority of them in the last second. At least it gave Hollow some breathing room. The Pale King turned his head to check on them, only to see they were face first on the ground. Of course, they had tried with all their might to push back their foe and when suddenly the force pushing them back vanished, they would lose their balance and with them being still off balance, they wouldn't be able to keep themselves up.

With the nail in their right hand, they struggled to get up. The predator took this as a chance and their claw was about to strike down. The Pale King, while not being fond of it, it would cost him large amounts of soul, teleported between the claw and his child, summoning a barrage of projectiles to protect the both of them, but he wasn't quick enough, the claw managed to rip another wound, this time in his arm, he gasped as the pain hit him.

If he would have been in his wyrm form, that predator would have just been an easy meal, swallowed in one gulp, but he wasn't in his wyrm form anymore, he had changed himself to a form that was more akin to the bugs of this kingdom and with that came disadvantages. As he summoned another barrage of projectiles to not let the next strike hit them, especially not his child, he noticed that Hollow had managed to get up again and also noticed that they weren't waiting behind him, instead, they jumped up and drove their nail into one eye of the predator, which shrieked in pain, orange goop leaked out of it.

“Hollow, what are you doing?! Stay behind me!”, the Pale King yelled, unaware that he had been on the defense all this time and Hollow just wanted to give him an opening, he could only watch when after the attack they failed their landing and the impact with the ground sounded rather painful.

The Pale King dropped any projectiles he still controlled and hurried over to his child, summoning new projectiles on the way, intending to string them between the predator and his child, but pain, blood loss and exhaustion from all the soul he had used caught up to him and made him unable to spread his wings, instead, he scurried over the ground, having to see how the claws of the predator bolted down on a helpless Hollow, which stared, simply stared and shortly before the claw could hit them, they didn't use their nail in an attempt to block it, but instead looked away and flicked their left hand, spear pillars emerging from the ground, impaling the predator on them.

The Pale King watched with wide eyes as the death cry of the creature sounded and even Hollow managed to direct their gaze back, crawling a bit backwards when they saw what had happened. Copious amounts of the infection regorged on the ground, staining Hollow, and the shell of the predator soon fell lifeless on the ground once the pillars vanished.

Hollow started shaking and soon tears ran down their face. The Pale King was at their side in an instant to pull them into a hug.

“Father.”, they signed. “Scared.”

“I know.”, the Pale King said. “I was scared too.” Scared of losing you. “I am so sorry that I lost you earlier.” He hugged them tighter, their shaking still not ceasing. They must have been terrified and still, they had saved him. Without their interference, he would have let himself strike down by the predator, simply because he couldn't get the image out of his mind of a Hollow that had cowered in fear of him.

Hollow reciprocated the hug, but withdrew their hand and stared at the white liquid on it. His blood.

“Father, you are hurt.”, they signed. “You saved me. Now you are hurt.” They then proceeded to sign the word sorry in quick succession until the Pale King took their hands in his claws, not without wincing, that arm and shoulder of his hurt, preventing them from signing the word out once more.

“The opposite is the case, Hollow. If you wouldn't have come, I would have let myself struck down. It was you who made me able to move again and it was you who took down the predator.”, he said, slowly releasing their hands.

“I did?”, they asked. “Not you?”

Clearly they were confused and seemed to think that the last attack had come from the Pale King, not from them, no wonder, they never had used this attack before. The Pale King was once again astonished about their tight control over soul, even though they had done it in a panic, they had managed to copy a complex spell that he may have shown them once or twice when they still had been a grub.

“No, that was all you, Hollow.”, the Pale King said and then scanned their body. “Are you hurt? Are you in pain?”

Hollow first shook their head and then nodded, contradicting themselves.

“Well, yes or no?”, the Pale King asked.

They raised shaky hands to sign: “Cut my foot earlier. Is not bad. Healed my shell with soul.”

That meant, they had gotten hurt earlier by their fall and, like the Pale King had anticipated, fell face first, though that didn't explain how they managed to cut their foot. Which also was void and so couldn't be healed with soul, which only would heal the shell.

“Can you explain how it happened?”, the Pale King said.

Hollow was silent for a while and then signed: “Fell. Felt a panic. Teleported. Foot got caught in something sharp. Fell over again. Hit my head. Healed it with Soul. Then couldn't see you anymore. Went to search.”

Alright, that explained just how it had come to all of the events that led to this moment. The Pale King should have never let Hollow fall down into that pit, they didn't knew what they should do and had tried to find their only source of comfort and the person they depended on: Him.

“Let me see your wound.”, the Pale King said.

“Father, your own wounds...”, they signed, but he shook his head and said: “I can heal myself in a second, let's take care of you first.” The relief of his child being safe was enough to make him forget that there still was blood seeping out of his own cuts, staining his robes and the ground around him.

Hollow shyly presented him their left food, which indeed had a nasty cut in it which leaked void blood.

“I can't heal void with soul.”, he said. “But we can make sure that it doesn't bleed anymore.” He conjured a bit more soul and formed it into the form of strap, which wrapped itself around Hollow's feet, securing the wound tightly and keeping it from leaking. “There, now you should be able to strain it without trouble.”

Hollow got up and took a few shaky steps, nodding, then stared expectant at him.

“I know, I know, I will heal myself now.”, the Pale King said and conjured up soul to guide into his injuries, but he had to realize that there wasn't any soul left to guide anywhere.

“I … seem to be out of soul.”, he said and along with the realization and the relief about Hollow being fine, the severity of his injuries came toppling down on him and he could feel himself slip into unconsciousness.

When the Pale King awoke, he still noticed a dull pain in his arm and shoulder, but they felt much more manageable. He was propped up against a wall and when he investigated his wounds, he saw that they were wrapped tightly, not with soul, but with what looked suspiciously like Hollow's robe. He turned his head to search for them and found them in the middle of the cave, where the predator had hung it's prey from the ceiling, working on getting a Dirtcarver down with their nail. There were several more dead bugs hanging from the ceiling, clearly victim of Deepnest's philosophy of “eat or get eaten”. One of them looked kinda like a Vessel. The Pale King blinked and then shook his head, was his mind still playing tricks on him? Asides from Hollow, no other Vessel survived.

Once Hollow managed to cut down the Dirtcarver, they took the prey in both hands and brought it over to the Pale King, cutting pieces out of it with their nail.

“What are you doing?”, the Pale King asked, startling them. They turned their head to them, laid their nail down and signed: “Father, you are awake.”

“Yes, indeed.”, the Pale King said. “So, what are you doing?”

“Food.”, they signed. “Tried to heal you. Failed. Only healed myself. Patched up your wounds.”

Indeed, their robe was in poor shape and they obviously had cut off one sleeve to use it as bandages for his injuries and now they tried to feed him, probably hoping that his soul would be able to get replenished by eating.

“Soul doesn't get replenished by eating.”, he said. “Only by resting or directly absorbing it from a source. That is why we have the soul statues in the palace.”, he said.

They stopped cutting up the Dirtcarver and looked at the Pale King. He didn't need words to know what they wanted to say. “Eating surely won't hurt.”, he said. Even though in his current form he had started to cherish food that had been prepared, he had just ate everything raw once. It wouldn't kill him to devour one Dirtcarver, especially when it would make his child happy. “But I want you to eat too.”, he said. Hollow was still a growing grub and would need large amounts of energy once their second transformation hit. He wouldn't let them go hungry.

Hollow nodded and soon they were biting down on the Dirtcarver, which soft shell luckily was easy to break through. By tasting the raw meat, the Pale King even could feel some of his old instincts coming back, the desire to hunt and taste fresh blood on his tongue. He couldn't believe how primitive and brutal he once had been. Hollow ate in silence next to him, in their own unique way, which pretty much just looked like their void body absorbed the food. That was probably what they were doing. He needed to finally ask them just how they were eating, but that was a question for another day.

After they were finished, the Pale King got up and took a look at Hollow, their cut robes and the orange stains of infection on their shel as well as his own torn robes, his bandages shimmering through. “We are pretty worn up.”, he said and took out the map, until he found the landmark of the lair of the predator, studying it to find the route back to Herrah. Even though he would have preferred to get Hollow home that instant, they seemed to have calmed down and he could only imagine how mad Herrah would get if he wouldn't show up.

“Oh, there is a hot spring on the way.”, the Pale King said. “We should stop there, to get cleaned up and heal our injuries. Hot springs are a natural source of soul.”

Hollow nodded and the Pale King took a step forwards only to get dizzy and almost fall over. He had lost too much blood. Hollow tried to catch him, but only fell over with him.

“My apologies.”, the Pale King said. “I seem to be a bit weaker than I thought...”

Hollow got up, straightened themselves, put their nail into the ground and then lifted him up with a strength he didn't even know they possessed, using their left arm to support him and their nail to prop themselves up, giving him a stare that the Pale King only could interpret as: “Lead the way.”

A gladly uneventful, but rather painful journey later, the both of them had arrived at the hot spring. “Finally.”, the Pale King said, as Hollow released their grip on them. He opened his robe and let it fall on the ground before stepping into the hot water, already feeling how the natural soul in it seeped into his body and closed the cuts on his arm and his shoulder. As he was in the process to remove the bandages, he saw Hollow joining him.

“I don't know if the hot spring can heal your void body, so better don't take off the bandage around your foot, just in case.”, the Pale King said. Hollow nodded and in the natural light of the hot spring, he could see a lot better just how dirty their shell was.

“Hollow, come here.”, he said, gesturing for them to come closer, which they did, their empty eyeholes staring at him. “Turn around, I am going to wash your horns.”

Hollow did so without hesitating, even sinking a bit deeper into the water, giving the Pale King easier access to their horns. The Pale King started to gently clean their horns with the hot water of the spring, scrubbing off the dirt and especially the chunks of infection that had gotten stuck in the jagged parts. Hollow of course didn't say anything, didn't even move while he worked, but he had the feeling that their former tense posture seemed to relax under his care.

Once he was done, he laid his hands on Hollow's shoulder and said: “There, now you look presentable again.”

Hollow nodded and then watched as the Pale King proceeded to wash his own body, mostly making sure that his body would absorb all the soul it could. As he carefully cleaned the area around the King's Brand, not wanting to damage the charm, he noticed that Hollow stared on it or more, at a area slightly beneath it.

“What is it, Hollow?”, the Pale King asked, stopping to wash himself and waiting for them to explain. They raised their hands, or stubs, upon their relaxation they seemed to have released the shapeshift. After a few seconds of forcing the void to form fingers again, they signed: “Scar? How?”

The Pale King's face fell a bit upon their question. He had preferred for that question to be asked another time.

“...It was the Radiance.”, he murmured, staring down into the hazy water. “I grossly underestimated her and her willingness to attack when I was still a young and clueless wyrm and just had arrived at this kingdom.”

He raised a hand and laid it over the scar. He could still feel the pain, shock and panic from back then. “Trying to negotiate, she didn't want to listen and hit me with one heavy blast. I could heal myself with soul, but I used up all of it to heal up the deadly wound. It was the day that I learned that I wouldn't win a direct fight against her.”

He removed the hand from his chest and looked at Hollow, which, from the outside, pretty much looked like always, but their stance implied shock. It maybe had been too much for them, he was pretty much their whole world and knowing that he almost died to the enemy they had been supposed to seal...

“F..forget about this.”, the Pale King said, noticing that while he had told that tale, he had unintentionally flared his wings. “That hasn't anything to do with you.”

Hollow just shook their head and also didn't raise their hands to sign. Instead, they got up, staggering for a tiny moment before catching their balance and then moved behind the Pale King. The Pale King just assumed that they had enough of bathing and wanted to shook the water off, when he felt the icy sensation of their fingers at his wings and winced in surprise.

“What are you doing, Hollow?”, he asked. “Be careful, these things are sensitive.”

Hollow stopped and tapped his shoulder to get his attention. As he turned around, they signed: “Will wash wings of Father. Father complained about them not easy to wash.”

“You remembered that?”, the Pale King said, kind of amazed. He had indeed said something to them, shortly after they hatched and he had brought them in the palace, giving them their first bath and having talking to them as if they were a real hatchling and not a mindless construct to seal the Radiance. Well, now he knew they had been a real hatchling. That meant, they must have felt emotions since they had been very young.

Hollow nodded and the Pale King had the feeling they would have said more things, but their hands was busy gently grooming his wings, their icy touch combined with the hot water of the spring a completely new sensation, but not an unpleasant one. So far, he had only allowed his Root to touch his wings. Thinking about it, Hollow's touch was not unlike the one of his Root, proving once more that they were indeed his and his wife's child.

Once they were done and retreated, the Pale King felt not only clean, but also relaxed and bursting with soul. He stood up and shook the water off, walking over to his robes, because he didn't intend to stand in front of Herrah's door naked, even though she had already seen him like that, he didn't want to send the wrong message. To his disdain, his robe was not only torn, but also stained with his blood.

And Hollow's robe didn't look much better, mostly stained with orange infection blotches and that one sleeve completely cut off, having formed his earlier bandages, which were now laying next to the hot spring, soaked and stained with his blood.

“...Let's at least wash them.”, the Pale King said and used the water of the hot spring to clean the robes out, removing any stains and then using his soul to dry them, at least enough that they could be worn comfortably again.

He handed Hollow their robe and slipped into his own. “We can't do anything against the cuts.”, he sighed. “And I am afraid we have to get a new robe for you.” As Hollow let their head hang, he quickly added: “Oh no, don't worry, you did the right thing.” Hollow's head perked up again and the Pale King finished his thought: “However, it's better than to stand to stand in front of Herrah's door step naked. She will have to live with our clothes being torn.”

After all, it had been a predator in her territory that they owed their current state. Herrah could be glad that it had been infected, had the creature been lucid, it would have seriously worsened the relationship between Deepnest and Hallownest.

As the Pale King studied the map and planned out the route, Hollow stepped next to him and he saw the soul bandage around their foot, a stab of guilt in his chest. That had only happened because he hadn't paid enough attention. Once the Pale King folded the map and put it away, his hand found the one of Hollow and closed around it.

“I won't let go of your hand.”, he said and he could feel them squeeze his hand, telling him that they understood.

The rest of the way they didn't get attacked by an infected powerful predator anymore, but Deepnest showed beautifully just why it was so feared by almost all bugs, with Weavers scampering around, appearing from seemingly nowhere, Stalking Devouts demonstrating just how they chopped up their prey as well as the creature known as Corpse Creeper waiting in seemingly harmless husks, that had became prey for another bug, and bursting out when last expected, as well as the ground constantly crumbling and while the Pale King didn't lose Hollow anymore, the moment the ground vanished under them again, Hollow got a good scare.

Now they were finally in front of Herrah's Den and Hollow couldn't help it anymore, they were shaking, finally giving in their fear and nestling against the Pale King, who did his best to calm them down, by rubbing soothing circles in their back.

“There you are.”, the voice of Herrah sounded, appearing out of the shadows. “You certainly took your time.”

“There is a reason for our delay.”, the Pale King said, slipping in his monarch personality, but Herrah's gaze was entirely fixated on Hollow.

“What's wrong with them?”, the asked.

“...Deepnest was a bit much...”, the Pale King murmured and Herrah scoffed.

“Of course Deepnest would be too much for a child that you treated like a thing until you finally realized how dumb this was. Why did you even make them walk through the entirety of Deepnest when there is a stag station right there? Let me guess, because you didn't want to be seen by anyone in public.”

The Pale King shrunk down under her words more and more, each of her words was driving the nail deeper into the coffin.

“Come here, child.”, Herrah said, her voice taking on a rather motherly tone. “Let's get you a hot drink and some food to calm you down.” The Pale King saw how she gently guided Hollow inside, who turned their head to look at him, with that cocking of their head that portrayed concern.

After a good while had passed, the Pale King managed to get himself together and followed Herrah and Hollow inside, where he found them sitting at a table, Hollow having a steaming cup of ...whatever in front of them as well as something that looked like cookies, but probably was made out of meat. Either way, they didn't seem to care, because their shaking had stopped and they were devouring the “cookies” without a second thought.

“Ah, there you are, wyrm.”, Herrah said as she spotted him. “You said there was a reason for your delay. Is it the same reason why the robes of your child are torn?” She gave him another glance and he was sure she narrowed all of her eight eyes under that mask. “Your own don't look much better. How unusual for you to come into another's territory in such an unkempt state.”

“We were attacked by an infected predator.”, the Pale King said. “It lured is into its lair. Hollow managed to take it out.”

“Let me guess. Big, black, with long legs and showed you something you care about to lure you in?”, Herrah said. The Pale King nodded and Hollow added by doodling a picture of how the predator looked on their journal, which they apparently had used to converse with Herrah, judging by the few words written in it.

“Nosk, as I was thinking. One of the predators that could rival me, but never dared to attack my den. It always would hunt far away from it.”

The Pale King shuddered a bit, how casually Herrah was talking about territorial behaviour, it reminded him once again of the wyrm tribe, only that he had decided to take a much more civilized approach. The reason that Deepnest didn't get along with Hallownest was mainly because they still held on to their instincts, even with a mind to think.

“You must be quite a fighter to have taken it down.”, Herrah said, her gaze on Hollow, as opposed as when she was staring the Pale King down, it very much softened once they talked to Hollow.

They just shook their head and wrote something in their journal. Herrah looked at it and said: “What, that wyrm that just sits in his palace and tinkers in his workshop all the time? Unbelievable.”

“We can hear everything you say, Herrah...”, the Pale King said, not having enough energy to start a full-fledged argument. Herrah always seemed to be able to just put him into her pocket. He kind of found it unbelievable that he really had shared a night with her.

Herrah gave him that glance that looked like she wanted to say “Do I look like I care?” and he could hundred percent believe that this sentence was on the tip of her tongue.

“Whatever.”, she said. “You came here for a reason, mainly for the reason that Hollow had the chance to meet their sister.”

Hollow nodded and almost fell with their head on the table, balancing themselves with their hands just in time and then signed two words. Herrah looked at the Pale King and he knew that she silently prompted him to translate.

“They want to know where there sister is now.”, the Pale King said. In truth Hollow had only signed the words for “sister” and “where”, but he decided to embellish their words a bit more.

“Just in the back room.”, Herrah said and stood up from the table. “But before we go there, just a minute.” Herrah made a sound as if she had clicked her fingers, which felt impossible, because she didn't even had fingers, she was a spider after all, and shortly after, a weaver appeared. “Fix the robes of the king and the child.”, she said and the weaver got to work right away, soon the robes of the Pale King had been patched up with spider silk and Hollow's robe even got a whole new sleeve from the same silk. They tugged and prodded at it with interest.

“All your clothes should be made by spider silk.”, Herrah said. “You won't find a more sturdy material in the whole of Deepnest.”

It's not like Deepnest would ever offer their silk to us., the Pale King thought, but didn't enunciate. For now, he decided to stay polite. It was for Hollow's sake after all.

“We thank you very much for your assistance, Herrah.”, he said and even gave her a polite bow, which only earned him another one of those Herrah-glances.

“Now, let's get you to meet your sister.”, Herrah said, attention at Hollow, who stopped investigating their fixed up robe and looked from Herrah to the Pale King.

“Go.”, he just said and saw how one of Herrah's legs gently laid down on Hollow's shoulders and guided them through the room. He himself followed them at a certain distance, fearing a bit that his natural light would upset the child, that had been born in Deepnest and certainly was more used to the darkness, though Herrah's Den wasn't as dark as the rest of Deepnest. For once, he cherished Hollow's void body, that didn't reflect light. They certainly wouldn't upset their little sister with being too bright.

It surely was only a short walk, but for the Pale King it felt unbearable long. He hadn't seen his daughter since she had hatched, wanting to wait for her to grow until inviting her in the White Palace, hoping that Herrah would agree for her to come over and, he had to admit, there had been a part in him that hoped that she would allow him to raise her once she turned dreamer, but he had buried this part deep under his sense of duty. He hadn't even raised the child of himself and his Root right, how should he be able to raise his bastard daughter?

Finally arrived (though it probably only had been a minute or so), Herrah stopped and gestured to a red bundle sitting on the floor, a bright white face with black eyes and two horns starting to grow from the top, similar to Herrah's. She was busy stacking blocks on each other (the Pale King didn't want to know from which bug husk they had been fabricated) and giggled once the whole structure crumpled and fell.

“There, this is my sweet, little Hornet.”, Herrah said, nothing but love and devotion in her voice. Hollow just stood there and stared and then raised both hands to their face. The Pale King had never seen them done this before, but he could only assume that they tried to express just how adorable Hornet was for them. “Why don't you go over to her?”

Hollow once again looked back to the Pale King, who gave them a gesture to just go. Now that any danger was averted, they seemed to be full back on their dependency for him, though this was a new situation for them, so he could hardly blame them.

Hollow took a few shaky steps towards Hornet, fidgeting with their hands, then seemed to take a deep breath and took the last few steps to their sister with much more confidence, carefully sitting down next to her. Hornet stopped her game of block stacking to look at the new bug beside her. Hollow raised their hand to wave. Hornet waved back with one of her little spider arms, it was kind of adorable and then she took Hollow's hand and invited them to join her in her game.

“This went better than expected.”, the Pale King sighed out, not aware that he had said this out aloud.

“Oh? Did you expect for your child to attack their sister, wyrm?”, Herrah said.

“What?! No, of course not.”, the Pale King said, wondering how Herrah even could come to that conclusion and remembering that maybe after their union he had rambled about how it was common for wyrm hatchlings to eat their siblings and that Herrah maybe should keep her half wyrm hatchling fed as well as possible. “We were... worried about other stuff.”

“I noticed.”, Herrah said, crossing her two upper front legs. “All that glancing back to you, being unsure what to say or how to act, waiting for someone, anyone to command them.” The Pale King already flinched under her words, feeling that he knew what would come next. “When I took them in, I had to tell them to sit down, had to tell them that it was fine to take from the offered refreshments and had to ask them if they had a way to communicate, because they would literally not move on their own.” She gave him another sideway glance. “Wyrm, you have done your best to raise this child into an obedient little knight.”

“We know...”, the Pale King said, looking at the ground. “We are working on reversing it. It's... a work in progress.”

“Good luck trying to get this behaviour out of them.”, Herrah said. “Children need love, care and devotion and not being told that they are a mindless construct only there to act as a vessel.”

These words hit the Pale King so hard, that he could physically feel them. “We know we haven't been the best father to them...”, he started in a weak attempt to defend himself.

“Not the best? Wyrm, that is the understatement of the century. Or the millennia, to put it in a time span that your race understands.”, Herrah said and managed to drown out any arguments the Pale King had in stock for the moment.

After a few minutes, he regained his composure and said: “...You were fine with the plan.”

“To keep my people... and her..”, she gestured at Hornet who was currently clapping at how high Hollow was able to stack the blocks, “safe. I never was fine with your 'methods', wyrm.”

“We realized that our methods were wrong.”, the Pale King said, trying to put his attention on Hollow and Hornet. This whole conversation was making him feel sick.

“Better late than never.”, Herrah said. “However, be aware, that husks in your closet will come to haunt you.”

They already do., the Pale King thought to himself, not a single day passed where he regretted what had happened in the Abyss. Desperately trying to change the subject, he said: “Hornet has grown quite a bit since we last saw her.”

At once, Herrah's tone softened, it was more than clear that Hornet was her world, her everything and that she would do everything for her. Even becoming a dreamer. “Yes, she did had her last molt just recently. I still have her old exoskeleton.”

“Herrah, what?”, the Pale King said, feeling a tiny bit grossed out. He didn't remember that his parents had collected his molt, but wyrm society was a lot different than bug society. Also, he probably had eaten his molts as a hatchling, anything edible just wasn't safe around wyrm hatchlings. He silently thanked himself that his transformation into bug physiologically had succeeded that far, that at least his children hadn't tried to eat each other. Not that this would have helped them anyhow, they still were very dead in the abyss... He seriously needed to stop thinking about this. He blamed the shape similar to a Vessel he believed to have seen in Nosk's lair.

“Hmph, of course you haven't kept anything personal of your child, being too busy to convince them to be, you know, the Vessel.”

Ah, there they were again. The Pale King had to admit, he never had cleaned out the void chrysalis that Hollow had hatched from into their current adolescent form. Back then he had just convinced himself that he didn't had time for it, but nowadays he knew that he had grown attached and wanted to keep that sign of their development. He didn't try to engage into another conversation with Herrah and instead watched Hollow and Hornet.

Hornet had lost interest in her block stacking game and had became far more engrossed by Hollow, or more, their horns. They had lowered their head for her to take a better look and she examined especially the jagged parts, seeming to be fascinated by them. It made sense for the Pale King, she only knew her own horns and that of her mother, which were smooth, how Hollow's horn jagged at three places was something completely new for the little spiderling.

“They seem to like each other.”, Herrah said. “I haven't seen Hornet that fascinated since a while.”

The Pale King just nodded, not taking his gaze of his children. Looking at Hornet like this, still a tiny grub, not even able to talk properly yet, just reminded him how hard he had tried to convince himself that Hollow was nothing but an empty vessel, damaging them and their relationship in the process. He had never allowed them to be a child, raised them for a purpose and only realized how wrong he had acted when they already had reached their adolescence. The Pale King suddenly understood just why Quirrel had advised against letting them visit a school, they were emotionally certainly not ready for it, not only because of their dependency, but also because he had never allowed them to be a normal child and now that he allowed it, they had trouble getting the concept and it was his fault alone.

After Hornet had enough of Hollow's horn and they raised again (not with almost falling over the other way, which made Hornet giggle), she tugged on their robes. Hollow looked at the Pale King and Herrah and the Pale King knew this gaze, they were asking for advice, or more, asking how to act.

“She wants you to pick her up.”, Herrah said and as Hollow cocked their head at her, she added: “It's fine, she is a sturdy little grub. Just yesterday she climbed the cupboard and didn't had a single scratch when she fell down.”

Now the Pale King gave Herrah a side glance and that after she had lectured him about bad parenting, but then he remembered that Herrah was half spider and spiders just never seemed to get hurt when they fell down. Also, he doubted that Herrah would have let Hornet done something she deemed dangerous.

Hollow carefully extended their arms and searched for a way to pick Hornet up. Once they managed, the grub flinching a bit, surely because of the sudden coldness, they gently sat her down on their lap. Hornet looked up at them for a brief moment and then cuddled their face in their robes.

It was more than adorable and the Pale King averted his gaze, feeling his face blush, as all these feelings about his children, both of them, threatened to spill over, but was pushed forwards by Herrah.

“Why are you standing there, wyrm? These are your children, you should join them.”

He took a few shaky steps towards them, realizing just how much he acted liked Hollow earlier when he caught himself fidgeting with his claws, almost falling over his own tail when it wrapped around his legs. Then, he followed Hollow's example and took a deep breath, covering the last few steps with a newfound confidence, sitting down to both of his children.

“Hollow, do you like your sister?”, the Pale King asked, knowing that Hornet was still a bit too young to answer any questions. They nodded and if they had been able to smile, the Pale King was sure they would have done it. Hornet stared at him with wide eyes, that eyes that only grubs could have and Hollow picked her up from their lap and offered for him to take her.

“Um..”, the Pale King said, being ready to jump up and hide behind Herrah, “What if she gets fuzzy...”

“You are her father, wyrm.”, Herrah sighed. “Just hold her.”

So, the Pale King complied and gently took Hornet into his arms, she was a lot warmer than he anticipated and tugged at his robes, clearly being interested in them. Hollow sat next to the Pale King, their gaze on their sister and he could feel Herrah's watchful gaze on him, but mostly he was amazed. How this little grub, that came from an union between him and the queen of Deepnest, could feel so comfortable in his arms. He decided to just cherish this moment, for once not thinking about anything he would regret, thinking about that Hornet would be able to grow up with her mother and maybe, when she was older, even visit the White Palace, and if only to play with Hollow.

After a while Hornet had enough from getting cuddled and demanded to be sat down by rather loud chirping, which the Pale King did. The little spiderling dashed with an awesome speed to her mother which picked her up and said: “Well, I think that was enough excitement for her. I should try and lay her down for a nap.”

Herrah then excused herself and left the room, leaving the Pale King and Hollow alone.

“Father.”, Hollow signed. “I don't understand one thing.”

“What is it you don't understand?”, the Pale King asked.

Hollow signed a few words and then shook their head, clearly unsatisfied with how they formed the sentence and instead flipped their journal out.

“Herrah said she is Hornet's mother, but she is my sister, so why isn't my mother also Hornet's mother?”

“Um.”, the Pale King said, having preferred to explain it to them at another date. “It is true that Hornet is the daughter of Herrah. The daughter of Herrah and... me. We could say, the two of you are... half siblings, you share one parent.”

Hollow stared at the Pale King and then wrote another sentence: “Does that mean Herrah is a homewrecker?”

The Pale King had a bit of trouble believing his own eyes as he stared down at their journal: “Who even taught you this word?!” (Author's note: A big thanks to @dreamlikequality who inspired me to add the scene with Nosk. A thing about Hollow is, that I really enjoy the challenge of writing them as mute and not being able to form any expressions, so that I need to think about several factors when they want to talk. Their sign language improved in this chapter, but their sentences are still easy and simple. However, I am not perfect, so if you want to add anything to how to write a mute character and how to handle sign language, feel free to tell me. Hornet is still young in this chapter, young enough to not being able to talk yet, I would say as a human child she would be around one year old. It was my first time writing Herrah and as one of the characters we don't know much about, a lot of it is headcanon based, but I hope you enjoy my interpretation of her. Please tell me your thoughts and favourite parts of that chapter in the comments down below. Thank you very much.) Chapter 8

[sharada-n]

I got this request over a year ago I think, which is a testiment to how slow I am with these sometimes. Still, I had a lot of fun writing for a fandom I haven’t tried before, and this request was just too cool to pass up - even if i did butcher it and turn it into more angst than hijinx.

Not sure if you still follow me, Anon, or if you’ll ever see this. But thank you so much for the request!

(Read on AO3)

The Pale King was a busy bug.

Hallownest as a society functioned much like a machine with many intricate parts, each cog turning just as it should individually while still dependent on each other, but keeping them all running properly was not an effortless endeavor. No matter what the denizens of his city might think.

Maybe it was his own fault. He had rather enjoyed playing the part of the detached ruler, taking pride in projecting an image of ease with which he operated, some might have called it superiority, keeping to it in dignity even when the first signs of sickness started to plague his people. Panic posed a danger as much as any actual disease could and he refused to let it spread, determining what needed to be done with level-headed purpose.

Rarely did he stray outside of the palace and if that had granted him the image of a god among his people then so be it. It was something he would neither deny nor discourage. But the truth of the matter remained that there were indeed things that took exertion and ruling Hallownest was one of them. Between tending to the many facets of the kingdom there was precious little time for anything besides duty and if the citizens of Hallownest at large would never realize that, he didn't mind. He had only hoped that those few creatures with the honor to belong to his inner circle and witness his efforts would know better.

Apparently that had been too much to hope for.

"Do tell why you presume to bother me with such inane questions?" he asked, his back turned upon the one stubbornly blocking his doorway. Maybe if he ignored her long enough, Herrah would realize he was preoccupied and did not have the time for frivolous affairs today – or any day for that matter.

"Oh, my dear Wyrm," she drawled back, the words spoken with such fake affection he was more than certain she was just trying to vex him, "however did you come to the misunderstanding that this was a mere question? I was making a demand."

"I do recall you're quite good at those," he murmured, unsure if she had heard but finding he cared little either way. To be curt, it was her own ultimatum that had gotten them into this situation to begin with, so it was only fair she would bear the burden. He turned around and added louder: "You know your time with her is dwindling. Why would you want to squander the feeble amount you have left?"

Herrah waited a moment, the reminder of the concomitant of their deal probably unpleasant for her. She made a sound, low and prolonged. "As hard as it will be for you to imagine, I am a queen in my own right. Sometimes that means I have pressing responsibilities to uphold for my people."

"Why do you not just command one of them to look after the child, then?"

"Because..." And he could tell she took great pleasure in her next words, "the child is yours as well. Last I recall you were there when she was created." As if to emphasize this she pushed the thing towards him. It was small, with a cloak that got close to brushing the ground and which had the typical burgundy coloring that the Pale King had come to associate with Herrah's retainers.

The child looked at him, its expression somehow curious despite the likeness to his own children, who had deceivingly unreadable features by design. It titled its head sideways, falling back to remain closer at its mother's side. Seemingly it was as pleased about this new acquaintance as The Pale King himself was.

"What do you want me to do with it?"

"Her name is Hornet," Herrah answered, "and honestly it doesn't matter much as long as you keep her save and alive for the foreseeable future." She turned to leave, the child hesitating for a moment, as if to follow, but eventually being persuaded by practiced obedience to stay where she was.

She stood in the room silently, gaze fixed upon the Pale King as he resumed his work. He ignored her for the time being, bending over the ancient-looking tomes once more. There was a lot of lore on higher beings, most of it unfamiliar even to himself – as ironic as that was – and he had spent too much time already consulting them on anything that might pertain to the infection threatening his people, clearly divine in origin.

After a few moments, his thoughts were disturbed again, this time by the child, who had crept closer to the desk during his distraction. She leaned forward slightly, maybe trying to read the crumbly papers but there was a fundamental lack of understanding on her face. The Pale King closed the book, brushing away the small cloud of dust it blew up.

"Very well," he said, gesturing towards the door, "you are old enough to entertain yourself, I presume?"

"I'm nearly grown," she answered, taking him off guard. His own children did not speak – also by design – but it made sense for this one to not have such restrictions.

"Follow."

They walked along the winding passageways of the White Palace, barely acknowledging the few bugs they met on their way. Hornet stopped occasionally at the large windows, the view certainly very different from how Deepnest looked. The Pale King did not know if Herrah didn't take their child outside often or if she just had a latent curiosity for the world. Regardless, he supposed it would aid her in her future as queen and indulged it for now.

Eventually they came upon the room he was meaning to, opening the heavy door with some difficulty. The vessel stood at attention on their arrival, dark cloak wrapped around themselves securely, though just slightly shorter than Hornet's own. When the king entered, they bowed curtly. It proceeded to stay perfectly motionless and wait for further instructions, though their head inclined slightly towards the stranger now in their room.

"Hornet, this is your-" the Pale King considered his own words. Treading into unfamiliar territory was not his forte. "Your sibling, supposedly." That didn't sound too far of from the truth. "I do believe you two will be able to keep each other company in here."

Hornet looked up at him. "Where are you going?"

Suppressing an annoyed huff – not very becoming of a king, now was it? – he turned towards the door. "Back to more important matters, such as running a kingdom."

He was barely a few feet further or Hornet's hand seizing his cloak stopped him, though he pulled it out of her grasp quickly. "I don't want to stay in here," she said. How she had so quickly transformed from the silent child Herrah dropped at his chambers into this demanding little thing was beyond him.

"Well, what do you want then?"

Though the question was not meant to be answered seriously, Hornet seemed to consider it for a few moments, gaze flitting around the room. He had to admit it looked a bit modest, with far simpler decoration than the rest of the castle and not much in that way of furniture. The crib his queen has placed in the center of the room long replaced by a simple cot with no sheets. The vessel did not sleep – by design, once again.

The theory of its conception had left no need for toys and besides the training it underwent, both intellectual and in combat, supervised by the Pale King himself and his most favorable and skilled courtiers, it did not leave its room. There was no need to. All it was meant to know was the reason for its birth – the purpose it was created with and the duty it had to fulfill – and the skills necessary to accomplish that goal. It would not care for these formalities either way.

But Hornet was different, with a strong will of her own most likely inherited from that infernal mother of hers, and would not be placated by mere afterthoughts. She apparently had mused on his question long enough, for her small hands balled into tight fists and she spoke with conviction. "I want to see the rest of Hallownest. I want you to show me."

"Absolutely not."

Though her face remained impassive, the displeasure she felt at his answer was more than clear. "Why not?"

"Because the city is vast and much too fickle for us to go traipsing around it like fools," he answered, "my time to too precious to waste away on frivolous-"

The vessel had chosen this moment to politely step forward, giving another bow. But in their hands was clasped the purple-covered book The Pale King remembered giving them less than a fortnight ago. Their reading speed was incredulous – something he himself took pride in as one of its teachers – and they had most likely finished it already. Usually, they would wait to be called upon instead of taking initiative like this however.

"Very well, if it can't be helped," he relented, "The library and the sentinel will have to do, so we can abstain from doing the full tour."

He could tell Hornet was not completely satisfied, but such was the life of royalty. It would do the child some good to learn she could not always get what she wants. Her mother too...

How long could Herrah truly stay gone for after all?

The library of The White Palace was truly a marvel in architecture. Even when considering all of Hallownest, its ceiling-height windows and metal-gilded chandeliers alone were impressive enough in their own right to make regular homes pale in comparison.

There was a bustle of activity when they arrived. Scholarly bugs of various occupations eager to consult the vast collection of knowledge stored within these bookcases and artifacts. But as The Pale King made his way to the particular section he had intended to, one filled with texts on the history of his kingdom, many left the room with polite bows and muttered greetings, unable to meet his gaze. It wasn't proper conduct to stay in the room when the king entered.

Only Monomon remained, ever oblivious to the presence of anything or anybody when she was occupied with research. Her student, a young bug the Pale King had seen only in passing before, lingered at her side, carrying books to and fro at the teacher's request.

"Go pick out what you will," the Pale King told the vessel, who had already put the book they had brought back where it belonged. Their memory also was stronger than average. They trotted off to the back of the row of shelves, occasionally stopping to inspect the covers. Hornet hesitated for a second before following them. He could hear her talking to them softly, too quiet to make out what she was saying. They nodded at her in answer.

The Pale King sighed and inspected the pages Monomon was studying, marred in her own scribbled handwriting, and completely illegible for himself. She had ruined an increasing number of the books in his possession in this manner "One only hopes you do progress like this," he said.

Monomon looked up at him, maybe just noticing his arrival but unsurprised either way. She beckoned her pupil forward, taking the remaining book in his arms to lay it open in front of her and then sending him away again in search of something new. "Progress takes time."

"Time that is in short supply."

"We will compensate." The cloth around her form billowed slightly as she moved. "You brought the little one, I see. They are advancing as hoped?"

The Pale King waited, considering the idle meaning of the word hope in such a context. "More or less."

"Less?"

"They are everything we need it to be, surely. Anything beyond that is not of consideration."

Monomon nodded, using one appendage to adjust her mask. "But you might think yourself cruel still?"

All his retainers were carefully selected, their talent undeniable and their merits to Hallownest's progression even less so. Monomon was more knowledgable than most any bug in the known realm. Sometimes a bit too much so – and the Pale King is reminded yet again of her ability to surmise that which is not meant to be obvious.

"Everything we do, we do for this kingdom," he said, "not out of cruelty."

"These are not mutually exclusive, Your Majesty."

He waved his hand, a clear sign this particular thread of conversation was over with. There were many trials still ahead of them, bridges they would need to cross once they got there. But for the time being there were more pressing matters on his mind.

She seemed to take notice, as she closed the book in front of her – took the new one delivered by her pupil, who stepped back and waited patiently for further instructions on what to fetch next – and inclined her head. "And the other one too, I saw. Herrah's offspring?"

This wasn't a subject he wanted to discuss any more than the last one, but at least it left him with righteous indignation about his current circumstances. "She sprung it on me. How does one even take care of a child?"

It was a rhetorical question, he was not seeking Monomon's knowledge, especially since childrearing was probably not among her many areas of expertise. Still, she looked up once more, then behind him. "I do believe not leaving them to fall to their deaths might be a good start."

The Pale King turned around just in time to foresee the disaster waiting to happen. Hornet had climbed one of the ladders used to obtain books held on the higher shelves, balancing on one leg precariously while her small hands reached for her intended prize instead of holding on to anything solid. The vessel stood bellow, pointing to the particular book they had requested. Monomon's pupil was standing next to them, task forgotten and instead observing the spectacle with confusion.

A moment later Hornet was on top of them. It seemed at least the other two had broken her fall with their bodies, now squeezed underneath a flurry of cloak and flailing limbs. She had righted herself in an instant and with impressive agility, brushing herself off and looking away embarrassed. "Are you alright?" he heard the pupil ask as he made his way over.

"I'm fine." Hornet turned towards the vessel, holding out the book she had somehow managed to grab on her way down. "This is the one you needed, right?"

The vessel clasped it to their chest, standing a little straighter. They didn't express their gratefulness outwardly but seemed happy with the acquisition of new reading material. The book was almost too big for them to carry, with a dark green cover and golden lettering. The Pale King didn't think he had ever seen it before, but then again there were probably many objects in his collection he hadn't.

He sighed. "Are you done with your antics?"

"They're not antics," Hornet objected, "I'm being responsible. Mother says responsibility is an important virtue for a queen."

"I'm sure she does," the Pale King said, ushering the two out of the library. They greeted Monomon in passing, back to being completely absorbed in her work. Her pupil waved at them and the vessel waved back.

From this height the palace grounds appeared even more massive than they already were, the walls barely more than faint lines on the ground one could just as easily miss. Beyond them stretched mostly darkness, but the Pale King knew where the gaping pit of the abyss was located, as well as the passageways that would lead you to the City of Tears and the Stag station above them – the direction Herrah had surely taken.

Hornet had pressed herself against the glass, unafraid of heights as she had proven to be in the library. The few bugs moving around far below were nearly indistinguishable, but she seemed enthralled with the sight nonetheless. The view was unique to the palace after all, and not something you'd encounter anywhere else in Hallownest, let alone Deepnest.

The vessel stood motionless. The Pale King could not recall how often he had taken them here, sometimes for lessons and sometimes merely for a change of scenery. He was not one to be emotional – or ascribe meaning where it shouldn't be – but perhaps part of him considered it only fair they got to see the world they were destined to sacrifice their being for, or at least the bit that remained them.

Even now large parts of Hallownest were rendered abandoned by the infection, with many bugs already giving in to its thralls. Dying out quicker than any of them had anticipated.

"It's beautiful," Hornet said, softly, like the unknowing child she was. Some stray droplets of water slid down the window, residue from the city above.

"It is only a small part of many," he answered, "but together they form one whole that is worth protecting."

Hornet looked at him, tilted her head up all dignified and it reminded him of her mother in more ways than one. "That's what a ruler does, right? Protect others, whatever it takes?"

At that moment the Pale King wondered what Herrah told her daughter. He wondered what she had left unsaid.

"Whatever it takes," he agrees, looking at the vessel, mute and waiting, the book still held tightly against the front of their cloak, watching the dying world below.

They stood there for a while longer, before he finally pulled the curious Hornet from the window again. "There is still more of the palace to see," he told her, noticing the vessel perk up at his words. She could also hardly suppress the surprise in her next words.

"I thought you did not have time."

"A king can make time," he said, leading the way back to the staircase in swift strides, "didn't your mother tell you this also? Perhaps not since she seems to be running late herself. But as it were, I'll take it on myself to make sure you don't get in trouble until then."

Hornet sputtered, quick to defend the honor of both her mother and herself as they made their way down, the vessel following obediently in their wake.

[cotillion-the-rope]

Hallownest’s Hero Chapter Two: Broken Vessel/Lost Kin

“I still don’t have stock left,” Sly said as Ghost walked into his store with Grimmchild following as always.

Ghost nodded; they understood that and hadn’t expected anything different after coming in here to inquire about that a few times already. They weren’t here looking for typical ‘stock’ stuff though. So they approached the counter anyway. They then lifted their hands where Sly could easily see them and mimed opening a jar. They had to do it a couple times before Sly seemed to finally get it.

“A jar? You’re looking for a jar?”

Ghost nodded. Any container would do but a jar with a lid would work best to minimize spillage during travel. A big jar would be best too so they put their hands together and expanded them out.

“A big jar? Okay uh… I might have one in the back that I used to store stuff in. Let me go check.” Sly hopped off the step that let him look over the counter and left for the back of the store. He returned a short time later carrying a large glass jar, perfect.

Ghost didn’t even wait for him to speak before pulling out a handful of geo to trade for it. They had more geo than they could possibly ever have a use for so they gave more than a dusty old jar was probably even worth. They then took the jar from him and left.

 -

Thanks to the handy little pins Iselda had sold them, Ghost knew where all the lifeblood cocoons were located. Getting to all of them took a while even with all the Stagways being open but they did it. And by the end, they had a jar filled with shimmering blue lifeblood. Grimmchild seemed very confused about the whole thing – and upset about not being allowed to spit fire at the little lifeblood creatures – but there was no way Ghost could explain their idea to him so he’d just have to wait and see.

Once in the Ancient Basin, it didn’t take long to find the broken vessel again. They’d fought and Ghost had won but the vessel wasn’t completely empty, there was still something there. Similar to when Ghost ‘died’ and needed to reunite vessel and shade, just a bit different. … Maybe anyway. Perhaps Ghost just wanted to believe that because of how awful it was to see a sibling’s vessel taken over by the Infection. But well, they believed it enough to try this. It was worth it if it worked.

If it did though, Ghost should give them a name. Hornet had dubbed them ‘Little Ghost’ and the Hollow Knight was dubbed that by the Pale King himself – the only one of them all to be granted such a thing, more a curse than a blessing though alas – now it was this vessel’s turn to get a name. … Except Ghost had never had to name anything before. How were they even supposed to start coming up good fitting ideas? … They’d just think of them as Lost Kin – they were lost and they were kin, that’s all Ghost really knew about them – until a better name presented itself. … Assuming this worked anyway.

Ghost walked over and sat on the ground next to them, placing the lifeblood filled jar on the ground too. Should they just dump it on them or submerse them in it or… what? Well, the opening in the jar wasn’t big enough to submerse anything important and when Ghost consumed the lifeblood juice, they just splatted it all over themself. So they unscrewed the lid and lifted the jar to pour its thick liquid contents on and into Lost’s mask, the hole in the top caused by the Infection blob being the perfect place to do so.

With a chirp, Grimmchild settled down on the other side of Lost to watch, his eyes locked onto the stream of lifeblood. If he tried to touch it, Ghost would have to push him away; this was all for Lost because they needed it. But thankfully, for once in his short life, he showed restraint and only watched.

Once the jar was about as empty as it could reasonably get without Ghost holding it like this for hours on end, they placed it to the side. Grimmchild immediately crawled over to it and extended his tongue to lick the remnants of the blue liquid clinging to the jar’s lip. He hissed and pulled back, face scrunching up with disgust. Apparently, lifeblood tasted nasty, Ghost never would’ve guessed. They patted him on the head before turning their attention back to Lost.

Lifeblood coated every inch of their mask now, both inside and out. It… didn’t seem to be doing anything though. Maybe Ghost had been wrong? Maybe they were too broken to become whole again? Maybe the Infection had…

Lost moved. A twitch or two at first but then they sat up. their shade had reformed in their vessel! They turned their head, still dripping with lifeblood, towards Ghost, titling it a little; a question?

Ghost nodded and raised a hand in greeting. Lost mimicked them, still obviously confused, but who could blame them for that? They flinched as Grimmchild came in to investigate, putting his face up in theirs which Lost clearly didn’t like based off the way they pulled away. So Ghost grabbed Grimmchild’s tail and lightly tugged him back, earning an annoyed hiss but he didn’t fight and obediently retreated, giving Lost his space again.

Ghost jumped up to their feet and extended a hand, offering to help Lost up. After a second or two of hesitation, they took it and Ghost pulled them up. Once on their feet, they didn’t let go of Ghost’s hand so Ghost didn’t let go either as they started guiding them back towards the Stag Station.

 -

Back up in Dirtmouth, Myla seemed to have found a place for herself, she was chatting with Bretta on the bench – leaving Zote with no one to talk to but he didn’t seem to mind talking to himself so it was fine. Ghost let them all be and brought Lost right to Elderbug. He was the first friend Ghost had made in Hallownest and he was calm so it made sense to introduce him to Lost first. Besides, he was the town’s welcoming person, right? And Lost needed to be welcomed.

“Oh, another friend, huh?” he said once they reached him. “And this one seemingly like you.”

Ghost nodded. They were siblings but alas, Ghost couldn’t think of any way to convey that. Maybe they could try to get Hornet over here sometime to explain that fact, though she probably wouldn’t want to. It wasn’t a big deal though. What mattered most was that Lost was safe now and hopefully would remain so. Ghost would do their best to make sure of it, just like they’d make sure everyone else was safe too no matter what it took.