#quirrel is pat them on the head

[tenyardstowitchyard]

Can you imagine this place in its time? Hordes of bugs travelling about the Kingdom; stag bells ringing; the station bustling with activity and life.

Now only our like even know it exists. That's a special thing I suppose, to cherish these sights, even in their decay

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

I just want Severus being a protective dad to Harry. Like,

(or, some conversations i think should happen.)

Year One

Severus: It’s not me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad, you like magical shiny things -

Severus: Harry. Go bother Professor Quirrell.

One book later…

Severus, storming through the castle on a rampage: WHO THE FUCK HIRED THAT TURBAN BITCH WHO TRIED TO KILL MY SON?!

Year Two

Harry: They’re going after Muggleborns. Like Mom and Hermione.

Severus: *pen snaps in his hand under desk* Hm. I’ll take care of it, Harry.

In Mcgonogall’s office later with her and Dumbledore…

Severus: My son is coming home with me whether you like it or not. And I’m inviting every other student too.

Dumbledore: We have everything under control.

Mcgonogall: Severus, I hate to break this to you, but four thousand students are not just going to follow you home.

Severus: *laser eyes ignite* They will if I offer them free A’s and no homework. And I think you’re forgetting that my son is the Chosen One, Minerva.

Mcgonogall: Bitch if you think I won’t slap you -

Dumbledore: *snores loudly*

The rest of the book later…

Severus: You are never allowed to speak Parseltongue again.

Harry: Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form?

Severus: *mocking Harry’s voice* Then how will we talk when you’re in your Animagus form? We won’t, you idiot! I only do that for incredibly dangerous missions or to get some goddamn alone time!

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: *starts to tear up*

Severus: Oh no. Oh no no no. Harry, no, don’t cry, not the crying, I didn’t mean, fuck, love, no, I, Harry -

Year Three

Harry: Dad, um… Professor Lupin invited me for tea.

Severus, without looking up from drawing smiley faces all over graded tests: Yes, yes. Go see him. Don’t be late. And tell him a good strong “fuck you” from me.

Half a book later…

Severus: I can’t believe you laughed at that paper’s comment on my nose.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: I did not marry James Potter and Lily Evans so our son could make fun of me. I have not dragged myself through thirteen years of your incessant crying and misplaced sarcasm to have you laugh at my nose. I could have killed myself Harry. You could have grown up with Petunia.

Harry: Dad, I’m sorry -

Severus, huffing and dropping down in his chair and turning his back on Harry: My only son. A traitor!

Harry: *groans*

The other half of the book later…

Severus: SIRIUS. THIS IS WHY YOU LET ME COME UP WITH THE PLANS.

Sirius: Snape -

Severus: SHUT UP YOU FOUL-BREATHED HEATHEN. COULD YOU NOT HAVE HAD THE COMMON DECENCY TO AT LEAST CLUE REMUS IN ON YOUR LITTLE PLAN?

Remus, stepping in front of Sirius: Now, Severus -

Severus, angrily pointing at them: NO! NO. HE’S YOUR HUSBAND, THAT MAKES YOU COMPLICIT. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING?

Hermione: Uh, guys? Full moon?

Remus and Sirius: Shit.

Severus, already rolling up his sleeves and tugging his idiot son and said idiot son’s idiot friends out of the Shack: Come meet James, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. They’re not that bad, she said…

Year Four

Severus: No.

Harry: I didn’t put my name in there, believe me, but Dumbledore says -

Severus: Fuck Dumbledore. I’m your father and I said no.

Harry: Dumbledore says there’s wards -

Severus: No.

Harry: But -

Severus: No.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: No.

Most of a book later in Severus’ office…

Harry, curled against Severus’ robes: Dad, he just… and Cedric… he’s back… it’s all my fault - *bursts into tears*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head* Nonsense. I’ll protect you, love. You’re gonna be just fine. And Voldy dearest can just fuck right off if he thinks he can get to the son of James Potter and Severus Snape and Lily fucking Evans -

Harry: *laughs wetly and wipes his eyes and nose on Severus’ robes*

Severus: *withholds disownment*

Rest of the book later in Dumbledore’s office…

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Severus: *whirls around and points angrily* NO. I DON’T WANNA HEAR IT ALBUS. DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES MY SON HAS NARROWLY AVOIDED DEATH IN YOUR SCHOOL? I WANT MORE SECURITY PROTOCOLS AND I WANT THEM NOW.

Dumbledore: *face scrunches up like a lemon* You want me to… what, Harry-proof the school?

Severus: *crosses arms over chest* Yes.

Dumbledore: *sighs* Severus -

Year Five

Severus: She did what.

Harry: *swallows nervously* Um. Nothing, Dad, just a blood quill -

Severus: A FUCKING WHAT NOW?!

Five minutes later…

Hermione: Harry? Why is your father cussing out Professor Umbridge and hexing her luggage when she’s not looking in the courtyard?

Ron: Yeah, and why’d I see him pay Fred and George like five hundred galleons in the hallway back there?

Harry, watching his father literally throw Umbridge down the steps while still shouting curse words in languages Harry didn’t even know existed: *facepalms*

Most of a book later…

Harry, sobbing and limping towards Severus: Dad… Dad, she killed… Dad, Sirius… *sobs brittlely*

Severus: *kisses the top of Harry’s head and pushes him gently into Remus’ shaking arms* Nonsense, love. Now, where’s the stupid veil?

Remus: *points trembling finger*

Severus: *nods sharply*

Severus: *returns ten minutes later dragging a soaking wet and violently shaking but otherwise fine Sirius Potter Lupin behind him* Found him.

Remus: *immediately pulls Sirius into the filthiest kiss of his life*

Severus: *wrinkles his nose* You’re welcome.

Harry: *laughs wetly and buries his face in Severus’ robes* Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you -

Severus: *awkwardly pats head* Um. Sure.

Unseen epilogue we all wanted…

Severus: I now pronounce you Dumb and Dumber.

Harry: *nudges Severus* Dad.

Severus: *huffs* Husband and husband, whatever.

Sirius: *grins devilishly and dips Remus back in a kiss*

Harry: *claps enthusiastically*

Severus: *gags to hide his face as he wipes away a tear*

At the reception…

Harry: *puts a flowercrown of lilies on Severus’ head*

Severus: I’m disowning you. You’re no longer my son. Enjoy homelessness, bitch -

Harry: Mum and Dad would like it.

Severus, now bright red and squeaky: Ah. Well. Fuck you.

Harry: *leans his head on Severus’ shoulder* I love you, Dad.

Severus, grumbling: You suck, kid.

Year Six

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad -

Severus: Give me your wand.

Harry: Dad, Draco deserved it -

Severus: *shoots up and leans over the desk* Harry James Potter Evans Snape. No one deserves what you just did. What you just did was moronic, stupid, and above all, cruel. I know you’ve heard the stories about your idiot father and you know better than that, Harry. You are better than that. And if you want to make your parents proud, and I know you do, this incident will never be repeated. Do you understand?

Harry, in tears: Yes, Dad.

Severus, through gritted teeth: Yes, what?

Harry: Yes, I understand and I won’t do it again.

Severus: *sits back in his chair* Good. Now give me your wand.

Harry: *hands over wand*

Harry: *sniffs*

Severus, sighing and standing up: Come here.

Harry: *shuffles into his arms*

Severus: *kisses his head* I love you, kid.

Harry, sniffling: Mmph.

Severus: *closes his eyes* And I’m proud of you. We all are.

Harry: *laughs wetly and shoves his face into Severus’ robes* We’re proud of you too, Dad.

A quarter of a book later…

Harry: Hey Dad, I found this awesome book and I don’t know who wrote it but -

Severus: Give that to me, Harry.

Harry: But Dad! This thing is literally the only reason I’m passing Potions at all -

Severus: I know. Because you told Minerva you want to be an Auror. Now that, Mr. Potter, is a fucking lie, and you shouldn’t be taking Potions anymore. So. What do you really want to do?

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: I wanna be the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.

Severus: There you go. But bitch, if you get the position before me -

Harry: Dad -

Severus: And if you tell anyone who wrote this book I swear to Merlin I’ll make sure you meet your parents far earlier than expected -

Harry: The Half-Blood Prince? Why? Do you know him?

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: I’m raising a dumbass.

Half a book later…

Harry: *bursts rudely into Severus’ office* Dad, Draco -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: No, you don’t, this time I’m actually -

Severus: I know, Harry.

Harry: Dad, he’s -

Severus: *finally looks up from grading papers* Harry. I know. It’s okay.

Harry, sputtering: It’s not okay -

Severus: Harry, love. I don’t lie to you.

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: I know. Okay.

Severus: *looks back down at his papers* Just don’t be dick.

Harry: I do not -

Severus: *raises his eyebrow*

Harry: Yes, Dad.

Three quarters of a book later…

Severus: So. Harry. I heard you’re dating Ginny Weasley.

Harry: No. Nope. I’m not.

Severus: I see. Well, either way -

Harry: Oh no.

Severus: Oh, yes. We need to have this conversation; you’re a growing sixteen year old boy. Of course, as your body grows there will be things -

Harry, bright red: No. No no no. Oh my god, Dad -

Severus, maintaining intense eye contact: When two or more people love each other very much, like your parents and I did -

Harry: *bolts right up* Dad, I will go to the Astronomy Tower and throw myself off right the fuck now if you don’t shut up, I swear to Merlin.

Severus: Good. Now, about protection -

Harry: I’ll do it.

Severus: So you’ve said. Madame Pomfrey has -

Harry: *throws his hands up in the air* I’m not even dating anyone!

Severus: *gives him a look* Of course people will be lining up eventually, you are the Chosen One after all.

Severus: *gives Harry a once-over and smirks*

Severus: Though I do wonder how you plan to defeat You-Know-Who when you can’t even sit through a discussion about the protection charms your mother cast when she sacrificed herself for you.

Harry:

Harry:

Harry:

Harry: OH MY GOD DAD THAT’S NOT FUNNY -

Severus: *giggling manically*

The rest of the book later…

Harry: Dad. No. Please, no.

Severus: I’m sorry, Harry.

Severus, externally: *looks at Dumbledore* Avada Kedavra.

Severus, internally: That’s what you get for hurting my son, you shitty old bitch.

Year Seven

Hermione: Harry, you need to talk about it.

Harry, setting up a tent “successfully”: Talk about what? I’m fine.

Hermione: *sighs* Your dad.

Harry: Okay. You wanna talk about your Obliviated parents?

Hermione:

Hermione:

Hermione:

Harry: Yeah, that’s what I thought.

Ron: *accidentally knocks the tent over*

Meanwhile, Severus…

Severus, staring blankly at the Carrows: What son.

Carrow #1: *sneers* Your son. Harry Potter.

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: You think I raised that idiot?

Carrow #2: That’s… actually a fair point.

Severus: *huffs and crosses his arms over his chest*

Severus: *flips hair*

Severus, internally: Damn right it is, bitch.

Severus, externally: See? Obviously not my son.

Carrow #1, snickering: Plus no one would ever sleep with you.

Severus: *turns his head slowly so he can glare right into Carrow #1’s eyes*

Severus, in that dangerous, painfully slow drawl of his: Of course not. Carrot.

In Mcgonogall’s office at three a.m….

Severus: Where is he?

Mcgonogall: I don’t know, Severus.

Severus: But he’s alive, right?

Mcgonogall, sighing: If he wasn’t we’d have heard by now.

Severus, pacing: Right. Right. He’s fine. He’s fine. Har - he’s fine.

Half a book later…

Severus, poking his head into the Gryffindor common room at like two a.m.: Hello? Y’all coming?

Ginny, stepping forward while the rest of Gryffindor rallies behind her with small bags and pillows: Yeah.

Severus, creeping into the Hufflepuff dorms: Marshmallows? You guys ready?

Hufflepuffs, in perfect chorus as they gather with blankets and stuffies: Yes, Professor.

Severus, knocking on the Ravenclaws’ doors: Yo, smartasses, it’s time.

Luna, hugging a stuffed white rabbit with the rest of Ravenclaw behind her: Hi, Professor.

Severus: *heart melts a little bit* Hello, Luna.

Severus: *leads them all to the Room of Requirement under a mass invisibility spell*

Severus: *gets them all settled for a long-term sleepover*

Severus, straightening up: Okay. Anyone want goodnight hugs?

A few pages later…

Severus: You have a list for me?

Draco, handing over a piece of parchment: It’s alphabetized.

Severus: Hm. Thank you.

Severus: *reads list*

Severus: Get Zabini to put Zonko’s products in the bed of everyone on this list. Have Pansy get the rest of you prepped on the plan. If you’re all still on board, that is.

Draco: *shrugs* We may be Slytherins, sir, but we’re not cowards.

Severus: *eyes suddenly shiny* No. No, you’re not.

Most of a book later I think I haven’t read them in years…

Harry: You killed him.

Severus: *pleads with his eyes*

Harry: How dare you stand where he stood?

Severus, internally: FUCK why do I have to be the tortured one??? Kiss me, James said. Marry me, James said. Let’s have a kid, James said. This is all his fault. I swear Jamie when I die I am going to kill you. You fuckwad -

Severus, externally: *starts shooting harmless spells at Mcgonogall*

Quite a bit later…

Severus, internally: Fuck, I hate snakes. Why is that my Animagus? I already have this shitty tattoo and I’m in the snake House why do I need to die by a fucking snake too oh look my son’s here that’s humiliating

Harry, overwhelmed with tears: Dad -

Severus, internally: I’m fine go away jeez

Severus, externally: *gurgles*

Harry: *flurries his hands around Severus’ body uselessly*

Hermione, exasperated: Harry, move.

Harry, blubbering now: *whimpers* Mione -

Hermione, wand out and pointed at Severus’ wounds: Harry, move.

Two minutes later…

Severus, freshly healed and more than a little pissed off: Now let’s go tell that snake ass motherfucker to go fuck himself -

Harry, clinging to him desperately: Daddy you can’t -

Severus: Like fuck I can’t. That slimy ass shitwipe killed my spouses, tried to kill me, and has gone after you for your entire life as if you don’t have enough shit to deal with already so yeah I’m gonna go murder him.

Harry, burying his face in Severus’ robes: Dad, I have to go.

Severus: No, you don’t.

Harry: It’s the right thing to do.

Severus: Since when I have cared about the right thing?

Harry: Since always.

Severus:

Severus:

Severus:

Severus: You’re grounded for the rest of your life after you survive this.

Harry: *laughs wetly* Dad, I’m not gonna -

Severus: *kisses his forehead* I love you, Harry.

Harry: I love you, Dad.

*dead silence*

Hermione: Harry. We have to go.

Harry, whispering: Keep them safe, Dad.

Severus, also whispering: Of course, love.

Idontevenfuckingknow later…

Voldemort: Harry Potter is dead!

Everyone: *crying*

Severus, internally: The fuck no he’s not like you could kill my son.

Severus, externally: *stares at Voldemort*

Five minutes later…

Harry: Expelliarmus!

Severus: I KNEW IT

The end…

Harry: Hi, Dad.

Severus, tugging him into a hug: You’re grounded forever you fucking idiot.

Harry, grinning and hugging back: Yeah, I figured as much.

A little bit after the end…

Remus: You did a good job.

Sirius: You really did. I can’t say I’m not surprised.

Severus, internally: I can’t believe I saved your life you fucking dick.

Severus, externally: I know.

[nompunhere]

Bug Bites 2 (H/ollow K/night Vore Ficlets)

hooo boy, it's been a while since the last one, hasn't it? but finally, here it is, Bug Bites 2: electric boogaloo! or should I say, bugaloo

Here's the first one, in case you missed it or want to reread. It was posted 4 months ago, eheh

All of these with contain Safe, Soft Vore and varying degrees of H/ollow K/night spoilers.

Characters, word counts, and specific notes will be at the start of each ficlet. Enjoy!

Stories below the cut

***********************************

Just Listening

Characters: Mato, Quirrel, Ghost Word Count: 614 Warnings/Notes: It's fluff and cuddles and that's basically it. Also no dialogue. Oh yeah and I guess TATG AU

——————————————

Mato closed his eyes and smiled up at the ceiling as the tiny, frigid form of his pupil slipped smoothly down his throat. He could feel the little ghost’s subtle movements as they made themself comfortable for the ride. Ducking his head and putting a hand to his chest, he could tell the exact moment they dropped into his stomach. He gave them a gentle pat, to which they approached the front wall and began to rub back at him appreciatively.

Under the sound of his contented sigh, he could hear a slight shuffle beside him. Looking to his left, he saw Quirrel, the pillbug scholar leaning forward to stare intently at the Nailmaster’s middle. Mato tilted his head and offered a slight grin, a clear invitation. To his surprise, Quirrel merely shook his head and straightened his posture. Mato shrugged and refocused on the little one in his belly.

After a moment, Quirrel lifted a hand, opened his mouth to say something, closed it again, and simply scooted closer instead. The beetle gave the smaller bug a questioning look, letting out a quiet gasp of realization when he was suddenly leaned against. Quirrel glanced away awkwardly, aware that he might be pushing social boundaries. Mato brought his left arm up to rest around the pillbug’s shoulders in reassurance, pulling him closer in doing so and receiving a surprised laugh in response.

Tentatively, the traveler reached his left hand across his body to rest on Mato’s abdomen, alongside the Nailmaster’s own right hand. From inside, Ghost shifted their attention to this new pressure being given. The chitin digits pressed in slightly to feel the reciprocating gesture from the Voidling’s miniscule nubs. Quirrel slid his face closer to murmur something to the little wanderer, who replied with an unintelligible sequence of taps. He smiled, closing his eyes and relaxing further as he began to massage the larger bug’s belly.

Mato stared down at the pillbug, expression going utterly soft. He rubbed at the area as well. A shiver ran through him as Ghost returned the gesture. The attention from both sides was enough to make him melt. Quirrel stifled a giggle at his obvious bliss.

After another minute of this, it was clear that the scholar was beginning to doze off. Well, he couldn't just leave him sleeping in such an unstable position! Mato adjusted his arms around the traveler, making him blink in confusion, before hefting him into his lap with a small 'hup!' A breathless laugh escaped the smaller bug as he found himself effectively cradled in Mato’s arms, half-curled against his chest.

Quirrel pressed the side of his head to the Nailmaster’s stomach, nuzzling into the warmth. Both of his cuddle buddies continued to quietly interact and enjoy each other’s presence, even with his body keeping them separate.

He took the moment to bask in the positivity. Quirrel’s form fit into his arms so perfectly, filling them with a comforting weight. Ghost, only a claw-length or two away, was pressed snugly into his inner walls, safe and sound. His heart was fit to burst with joy. It had been oh-so-long since he’d gotten to engage in physical affection like this. The warmth and contentment were so overwhelming that they soon became impossible to contain.

Tucking his face into the fluffy ruff of his cloak, Mato attempted to muffle his laughter. It quickly became obvious that such an attempt was futile, as both of the others present could clearly feel him quaking with mirth. Quirrel was soon to join in with his own sleepy chuckles, while Ghost did so as well in their silent but noticeable way.

In that moment, everything was perfect.

************************************

A Mint With Dinner

Characters: Ghost, Mato, Oro, Sheo, Nailsmith Word Count: 928 Warnings/Notes: Detailed Foodplay. Strongly implied TATG AU, and definitely post-EtV ending but it's not too important to the plot

——————————————

The sounds of conversation filled the hut at Greenpath’s edge. Four large bugs (and one tiny vessel) sat around a low table set up in the center, cleared of its usual art supplies for the occasion. Between catching up on all that had happened in their years of separation, the Nailmaster brothers dined on stew, mostly made up of vegetables native to Greenpath, but with contributions of vengefly, tiktik, and hopper meat. The Nailsmith and Ghost of Hallownest also partook in the meal, of course, but they had much less to add to the conversation; the old metalworker responding with short, grunted answers when asked about his life, and the Shadelord too preoccupied with eating from a bowl almost as big as they were to sign back.

They had decided to be small that day, for no other reason than that they could, and that they felt like it. It reminded them of their time adventuring with Quirrel, who was currently off doing maintenance on the Archives, if they remembered correctly. Ever since they achieved godhood, they could switch at will between the different shells they carried with them, making it that much easier to traverse Hallownest on their own. There were many benefits to becoming a Higher Being.

It wasn’t long before Ghost finished their stew, despite the disproportionately large serving. (Really, it was a matter of enthusiasm. It was some good stew.) Now, they could just sit there and listen to the Nailmasters exchange stories. They were often told that they were good at that, but that didn’t mean it was the most entertaining thing to do. No, they had something else in mind. Besides, they could listen just fine from where they were planning to go. To the main conversationalist, at least.

When no one was looking, they angled themself just so, and prepared a crystal dash. The quiet clinking of the pink minerals earned them a sideways glance from the Nailsmith, but he didn’t comment, thankfully. As soon as Mato finished his next bite and opened his mouth to speak again, they took off.

“So th- HRKPH!”

Perfect aim, perfect timing. They were in his mouth for only a moment before he spat them out with a ‘pweh,’ giving them a bewildered look as they righted themself on the table. His face was crossed with regret for a split second for effectively throwing them a short distance, but it was quick to return to sheer incredulity. They didn’t blame him.

“Ghost, you- right now?”

Nod.

“But we’re eating!”

They knew. The others were openly staring by then. The miniature vessel continued to hold the beetle’s gaze, as if to say ‘So what?��

“Do you really want to be in there with the stew?”

In response, they stepped over to his half-finished bowl, carefully hopped inside, and turned to face him once more. He blinked. They sat down in the dish and crossed their arms, waiting. Had they not made themself clear?

Mato gave a sort of defeated sigh. ...Maybe they were being a bit of a brat. Before they could move to apologize, or even just sign a simple “please,” a spoon dipped into the liquid beside them. They startled, looking between it and their teacher. His expression was one of resigned amusement. They scooted forwards eagerly as he smiled down at them, taking a sip of the broth. Somewhere behind them and to the right, they heard a stifled snort. They watched as the spoon descended towards them again, tensing as it slid underneath and lifted them to Mato's face, along with a few veggies. From the left, there came a low, almost imperceptible whisper.

"Is he seriously-"

They couldn’t tell if Oro cut himself off, or if they simply couldn’t hear him due to the pair of mandibles already closing behind them. Either way, they were now comfortably settled in Mato’s mouth. They giggled silently as his tongue lapped the broth from their cloak. It wasn’t like they’d be free of the residue for long. Patting at their surroundings to signal they they were ready, Ghost squirmed slightly as the Nailmaster’s throat easily took them in, pulled them down through his chest, and tucked them away in his belly.

They dropped with a little splash into Mato’s occupied stomach. The space around them was filled with gurgles and grumbles as the organ worked at breaking down dinner. Walls pressed into them from all sides, coating them once more in a layer of stew. They didn’t particularly mind, though—they had been prepared for this. Besides, after fighting the literal Dung Defender (multiple times, they might add, if only in dreams), they found it hard to be disgusted by only a bit of food. It wasn’t like they were in any danger, either, being immune to acid and not strictly needing to breathe and all.

They settled as best they could against the wall, letting the organ squeeze and churn at them as it pleased. Try as it might, the stomach could do nothing to them. They could rest easy with that knowledge. For now, they’d just sit back and enjoy the massage.

Somewhere above, Mato cleared his throat. “So anyway, as I was saying-”

“Oh my gods,” Oro deadpanned. Across from the irritable Nailmaster, Sheo broke down into snickers that he struggled to keep from turning into full-blown laughter. The Nailsmith beside him sighed and shook his head, spoon clinking against his bowl as he set it down to pinch the bridge of his mask.

Mato chuckled awkwardly. What a lovely family dinner.

************************************

Stomachache

Characters: Ghost, Tiso, Quirrel Word Count: 1,462 Warnings/Notes: Mild Description of Pain and Nausea. Based on this post! I know I've seen the idea in multiple places, but that post is the one that inspired this snippet in the first place

——————————————

Perched on Quirrel’s shoulder, Ghost steadfastly attempted to read the book in his hands while ignoring the pained groans from the couch across the room. Tiso had been lying there for effectively the whole afternoon, complaining of a stomach ache. He let out another whine, curling further into the couch cushions. Quirrel turned the page.

“...Quir’lllllllll..”

The pillbug in question glanced up, cocking his head slightly.

“Heeelllllllllp..?”

He sighed in exasperation. “I offered you medicine, but you refused.”

The ant slowly shifted himself to face him. Wincing, he muttered, “Have you smelled th’ stuff? How d’you know it’s not pois’n? ‘M not gonna eat that..”

Quirrel carefully closed the book around his thumb, using the digit to mark the page. Ghost adjusted to get a better look at Tiso instead of Quirrel’s lap. “I assure you, that medicine is perfectly viable. I brought it in from outside Hallownest, so it’s far newer than anything you’d find by scavenging through the city, and it’s the kind that keeps for an immensely long time. That’s not to mention that it was designed to be used by a great variety of species, and yes, that includes ants.”

“But, like, mrghh.. nnno?”

“You wouldn’t take the painkillers, either. Or even the water I gave you.”

“‘M not taking y’r hippie drugs, Quir’l.”

“They’re not- Those bugs weren’t even-!” He interrupted himself mid-gesture to sigh again, putting a hand to his face for a long moment. Ghost patted his arm consolingly. “Listen, if you won’t accept the solutions I offer, then what, pray tell, do you expect me to do?”

Tiso wilted at that, glancing around as if looking for an answer. Not finding one, he settled for a meek “...I dunno.”

“Then for Wyrm’s sake, deal with it yourself.” The scholar’s harsh gaze softened after he and Ghost exchanged a look. “Just, please, try to get some rest? You’ll feel better afterwards,” he suggested.

“Mmph, fine.” Tiso rolled to face the back of the couch once more, too pained to go back to his own room. Quirrel quietly brought his book back into view, opening it to where he and the vessel on his shoulder had left off. They continued reading together, eager to get to the part that the story had clearly been building up to for the last several chapters.

The blessed silence lasted for a good three minutes before it was broken again.

The groan started soft, but quickly grew loud enough to be disruptive. It was accompanied by a similar sound from the ant’s stomach itself. Quirrel snapped the book shut and slumped back in his chair, frustrated. Ghost teetered, trying to stay on their perch, then came to a decision. With a crackle of growing crystal energy (and a small ‘ow’ from Quirrel, whose shoulder was being used as a launch pad), they blasted over to where Tiso lay, smacking into the back of the couch after a moment. They hooked on with their Mantis Claw and waited.

When the warrior rolled onto his back to squint up at them, they hopped down onto his chest and marched up to his face. He stared back in confusion. They could feel his gut rumbling agitatedly beneath their feet from somewhere behind them. On the other side of the room, Quirrel watched with mild interest as the tiny vessel tapped at their friend’s mouth impatiently.

“..Wha-mmph!”

As soon as Tiso opened his mouth to speak, he found a cold little arm being shoved between his jaws. He grew steadily more bewildered as they then proceeded to pry his mandibles apart and climb right on in feet-first, seemingly making themself at home in his maw. Feeling vaguely nauseous at the relatively large mass getting comfortable on his tongue, he looked to Quirrel for help.

The pillbug stared back, intrigued but not particularly surprised. When Tiso met his gaze, he gave the ant a flat look and pointed at his mouth. He followed this with an exaggerated swallow as he flicked his hand to point down toward his chest. The message was clear enough. Tiso huffed and did his best to look imploring. Quirrel merely shrugged. Ghost chose that instant to pat at the roof of his mouth.

Well, the Pale Thing had something in mind, and really, how much worse could it get? (He sincerely hoped that he wouldn't regret asking himself that.) Might as well go along with their plans if they could potentially help.

With a grimace, Tiso prepared to swallow them down. This would be difficult. He propped himself up on his elbow and painstakingly reached over to grab the glass of water that Quirrel had set on the side table for him. He gave an experimental swallow, wincing when he couldn't get more than Ghost's stubby legs into his throat. They rubbed his tongue encouragingly. Taking a small sip of water, he went for a stronger gulp, pulling them in up to their arms. Ugh, he felt horrible. Best to get it over with as soon as possible.

With the glass held to his mouth, he sipped steadily until the cold form of his friend slid thickly down into his thorax. For how lightweight they were, they sure had one heck of a presence in his body.

He quickly set the glass aside and curled forward, clutching at his chest. Quirrel watched in concern as Tiso's breaths came fast and shallow, his eyes squeezing shut. With every passing second that Ghost inched towards his stomach, the nausea worsened. It came to a peak when they finally dropped in, making the walls clench around them. Oh gods, this was it, he was gonna-

Just as he became convinced that his body was about to force the squib right back out from whence they came, the pain began to subside. He sat still, not daring to move, focused only on trying to stabilize his breathing. The world became a bit clearer, allowing him to distinguish the soothing sensation of Ghost rubbing circles into his stomach lining. Oh. Oh, they knew what they were doing.

Their soft, smooth hands pressed gently against his aching inner walls. They expertly hit all the right spots, making him collapse back onto the couch. In almost no time at all, the pain dissipated into sweet relief. All that was left was their cooling touch, quieting his organs’ complaints with a level of ease he hadn’t realized was possible to attain. How had they gotten this good? Tiso had only ingested them once before, just to see what it was like, but he might very well have to do it more often if this was what they were capable of.

He didn’t notice that he had started mumbling his thoughts aloud until he heard a chuckle from the chair in the corner. Opening his eyes revealed Quirrel shaking his head at him, an amused yet disbelieving grin on his face. Tiso wasn’t the type to casually hand out praise, after all. The ant shot him a lighthearted glare before rolling onto his side to once more face the back of the couch.

Ghost, tossed slightly, was quick to get upright and return to what they were doing, though a subtle tremor in their movements told him that they were laughing too. Whatever. So long as they kept at it. He didn’t want the stomach ache coming back any time soon, and besides, he was damn comfortable now. They seemed happy enough; they probably wouldn’t mind if he held onto them a while longer. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and ran a hand over his belly, letting himself relax completely.

The little knight continued to massage the walls until the last groans of Tiso’s digestive tract settled into contented gurgling. The pained gasps from earlier were long gone, left with calm, or better yet, pleased breaths and a stable heartbeat. The walls undulated smoothly around them, pressing back at their form in an almost grateful fashion. Ghost shook out their arms—though they didn’t exactly have muscles that could tire out, repetitive motion was still annoying after a while. They tapped at the wall, asking to be let out.

…No response. Wait, actually, listening closely, they could hear as the exhausted warrior’s next breath left him slowly. Another inhale, and- “Snzzzzzzz…” Oh. Whoops. Perhaps they shouldn’t have gotten quite so engrossed in settling Tiso’s stomach. Now how were they going to get out? They didn’t want to wake him up; that’d almost defeat the point of doing all this in the first place! Unless Quirrel went ahead and woke him anyway, they’d likely be stuck there a while.

They flopped down into the shallow puddle that had accumulated. Guess they weren’t gonna get to finish that book today.

************************************

Time-Out

Characters: Hollow, Ghost, Hornet Word Count: 1,009 Warnings/Notes: Not really vore? Hollow puts Ghost in their inventory. So just a snippet of something that's sorta vore-adjacent, I guess. blease don't yell at me Oh and ending spoilers, of course, considering Hollow is here

——————————————

The light crunch of footsteps echoed through the mostly empty halls of the Crossroads. No longer Infected, but still rather desolate, the old pathways and dilapidated buildings had few residents to be found, aside from the stray tiktik, crawlid, or aspid. Still, three figures walked through, checking the old halls for structural stability, supplies, and survivors.

Well, two of them walked. The other raced in seemingly every direction at once, practically bouncing off the walls. Literally, at times. Rocks clattered to the ground as they leapt off a ledge to flap to the opposing wall and slid down just to sprint away again.

It seemed that Ghost had a little too much energy for that day's patrol. Hollow heaved a sigh that whistled through their chest as their smaller sibling chased after yet another random tiktik. Hornet called after them, but as with all previous attempts, it failed to slow them one bit. They chuckled as she began to shout out threats, most of which involved chores, silken child leashes, and extensive sparring.

They could tell she was starting to tire of the little one’s antics, and frankly, so were they. Hollow had no clue where Ghost had gotten all that energy from. Maybe someone gave them sweets? A terrible idea, really.

Speaking of ideas, one was coming together in their mind. Ghost showed no signs of slowing down, and if they kept this up, they could put themself or others at risk. Even with the Infection gone, Hallownest was a dangerous place. Maybe this kind of reckless behavior worked for them in the past, but they weren’t traveling alone anymore. Hollow figured they should do something.

They stopped, leaning against a wall for support. Hornet turned to them, head tilted. "Need another rest, knight?" Not this time. They handed her the greatnail they had been using as a walking stick, which she took with some confusion.

As Ghost got further away, appearing to get distracted by a side tunnel, Hollow released a sharp chirp, grabbing their attention. They whipped around to face the larger sibling and began to run back. Hollow could tell the exact moment something else caught the wanderer's eye, as the little one's gaze flicked to somewhere behind them rather than Hollow themself. They made no sign of slowing down, and right as Hornet was about to step in, Hollow's arm snapped out to grab them. Even after all this time, they still had their reflexes.

Hollow straightened once more, internally wincing at the creak their chitin produced as they did. Ghost wriggled in their grasp.

Calm yourself, they intoned through their connection to their sibling.

I am calm! Ghost shot back.

No, you're not. We have work to do, you need to focus.

I am perfectly capable-

Not when you're running after every little glint at the side of the road. Enthusiasm is good, but this is too much.

Ghost had nothing to say to that. They simply continued to squirm in frustration. Hornet looked back and forth between them, left out of the silent conversation.

Hollow sighed. Can you control yourself?

The other looked down, considering. There was a long pause. Judging by how they could not stop fidgeting, that would be a no.

Shaking their head, Hollow huffed. Alas, you leave me no choice, they half-joked. Ghost looked up, curious and mildly alarmed. They thrashed in earnest as the taller vessel brought them to their chest and tucked them under their cloak.

They briefly felt Ghost's struggles against their chest, and then nothing.

Hornet stared as their hand fell to their side, empty. She tilted her head, clearly wondering why there wasn't a sugar-crazed gremlin scrambling down their legs.

"Ghost take time out," they signed as an explanation.

"...Ah. Will they be alright?"

Hollow nodded firmly. They were certain. Honestly, they were in more danger than Ghost was, if Ghost decided to try and find a way out using their newfound control over the Void. They trusted their sibling to both be aware of the risk and to not want to hurt them in any way, though.

"Hmph, okay. So long as it keeps them out of trouble. They could use a break anyway," Hornet commented. The little vessel had been quite busy lately. They needed time to have fun, but they also needed time to rest. Besides, a patrol was not the time for play. They could do that later, in town or another more controlled environment. But for now, time out.

As the two continued with their trek through the Crossroads, Ghost floated in emptiness, arms crossed and kicking indignantly. They could handle themself! They didn't need this! So fixed on the unfairness of it all were they, the young Shadelord didn't notice all the stuff they shared the space with until something clocked them in the back of the head. Sourly rubbing at the spot, they turned and grabbed the offending object.

To their surprise, what met them was a perfect scale model of a kingsmould. It reminded them of what they had seen the Nailsmith crafting last time they visited him and Sheo, but even more detailed. Where had Hollow gotten this?

Looking around, it seemed there were many more oddities to be found. A pale garland of flowers perfectly preserved by the temporal distortions of the Void floated past. They might've seen some of those species somewhere before. Maybe Queen's Gardens? Or possibly even dessicated, browned versions somewhere in the shallow, rubble-filled crater where the White Palace used to be.

Nearby, there was a Little Weaver doll, gently spinning. Ghost reached for it, subtly willing the Void to bring it closer. When it drifted into their hand, they looked it over, noting the tiny stitching on the underside of the cloak in the shape of their sister’s head. They hugged it to their chest, wondering what else Hollow could possibly have stored in here with them.

They were now thoroughly distracted from their predicament. It seemed they had much more to learn about their sibling from this.

************************************

Closing Up Shop

Characters: Sheo, Sly (Oro and Mato mentioned) Word Count: 1,025 Warnings/Notes: Unwilling Prey, Exhaustion. Takes place prior to the fall of Hallownest, if the ficlet doesn't make that clear. The brothers are still living with Sly, but they're pretty close to being full-fledged Nailmasters and setting out on their own

——————————————

Sheo carefully poked his head into the front room of the shop. His target was there, standing at the register, exactly as he had been for the last several hours. Lately, Sly had been keeping the shop open far later than was reasonable in order to make some extra Geo. They’d been struggling to get by financially after an incident involving an ill-timed tussle and some property damage. Though all four members of the household were more than capable of hunting and foraging for food themselves, that wasn’t as much of an option since they’d moved into the City of Tears. Besides, debt was a much more complicated issue to solve.

The most skilled of the Nailsage’s pupils sighed as quietly as he could. His master was well-versed in hiding signs of weakness, but for someone who had known him for as long as Sheo had, it was easy to see how tired he was. It was evident in the droop of his antennae, the frequency of the little swipes at his eyes, the lack of constant movement in his hands.

Not only was he running the shop late, but Sly had been deprived of his midday meditation as well, due to an accident during training that morning. Oro, being frustrated with his own mistakes, had overexerted himself and gotten injured as a result. He was currently resting in the room he shared with his brothers, Mato there to try and talk him through his emotions. Gods knew it was an area Oro could use improvement in. The point was that Sly needed sleep, and Sheo was the only one available to make sure he got it. And he knew that his master wouldn’t go willingly. He was one of the most stubborn bugs he’d met.

All this led to him sneaking up behind Sly in the dead of night, when there was no one outside but the occasional drunkard stumbling home. No sentries were around at that moment to glance through the window and witness the scene about to unfold, nor give the fly some hint as to Sheo’s approach. Nothing to indicate his presence until he was directly behind his master, pushing his mask out of the way in advance. He’d need both hands for this.

Sly snapped to awareness only a split second before being snatched up in his student’s grasp. Immediately, the small bug thrashed, searching for leverage to throw himself to freedom with each kick. Seeing the shift of his cape, Sheo immediately pinned the fly’s wings with his thumbs, cutting off another potential avenue of escape. Catching the Great Nailsage by surprise like this was always a risk, but it was one that Sheo was willing to take in this instance. It took until he raised his captive above his head that Sly realized what was going on.

“Ergh, Mato, put me down!”

“Guess again,” Sheo droned. Sly must be more out of it than he realized. It wasn’t like him to mix up his own students, even if they were triplets.

“Sheo-” He didn’t even get to finish his protest as he was dropped into his apprentice’s waiting maw, mandibles swiftly clicking shut after him. The beetle made quick work of coating him in saliva for the trip down, ignoring the disgruntled shouts and threats of consequences. Sly made a valiant effort at getting out, prying at the sealed jaws and swatting at Sheo’s tongue, but it was all for naught, as it wasn’t long before a thick gulp dragged him squirming and cursing into the larger bug’s body.

Sheo put a hand to his chest in discomfort. “You’re fine,” he murmured, absently patting at the other’s writing form under his chitin. While tracking his teacher’s position under his palm, the Nailmaster-in-training made his way to the door, retrieving the “Open” sign from out front and sliding the lock into place. After shuttering the windows for the night, he leaned against the wall with a sigh and slid his mask back into place. Sly had made it to his stomach and showed no signs of letting up his struggles.

“I—mmph—will not be treated this way by my own apprentice! Release me now or—eckh, or you’ll be cleaning up the training room on your own for weeks! I wouldn’t expect this kind of behavior from you, of all- Sheo!! Are you listening?!”

“Master, please,” he began, rubbing at his midsection more firmly, “We’re all worried about you. You can’t keep overworking yourself like this—you need rest.”

“Really, I’m fine-”

“Sly.” There was a long silence. Sheo took a deep breath. “I can’t make you go to sleep, but I can keep you here until you’ve gotten some. You know how important it is to be well-rested. So please,” he implored.

A pause, and then an exaggerated huff from within, paired with a soft impact as the fly sat down. “...Fine. You’re still in trouble for this, though.”

“Of course, of course,” the beetle chuckled, “we can worry about that in the morning, though. You sound much more tired than you claim to be.”

At that, his teacher merely grumbled as he laid down and rolled onto his side, antennae likely flicking irritably. As much as Sly was a mature and responsible adult, he didn’t always act like it when not under the guise of the Great Nailsage. The stomach walls gently squeezed in around him in place of a hug, to which he reluctantly patted back before allowing himself to relax.

Sheo smiled, relieved. Trying to make no sudden movements, he went through the remaining motions of closing the shop for the night. After quickly wrapping up what needed to be done, he headed back to the room where his brothers now lay quietly snoring, more than ready to join them. From deep within, his mentor shifted and twitched, having settled into the rhythms of sleep as well, it seemed.

The almost-Nailmaster’s hand came to his belly protectively as warmth bloomed in his chest. Sly was always protecting them, providing shelter, granting them a safe place to rest; now it was the eldest triplet’s turn to repay the favor.

************************************

Phew, okay, we're done. Time to wait another 4 months before writing the next batch of snippets, despite having them all outlined! yaaaayyyyyyy (that's hopefully a joke. hopefully.)

oh. and beware the avalanche of Tiso. no, I still don't know why I keep getting so many ideas for him. I've got seven more snippet ideas outlined (so all of Bug Bites 3 and 2/5 of Bug Bites 4) and six of them have Tiso. save me. save me from the Fool.

Thanks for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated, and criticism is accepted, so long as it’s constructive/respectful. Asks are open.

————-

DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weight gain blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Take Me Out (1/2)

Human beings were the equivalent of bugs to the King of Curses. Every one of them an eyesore and fucking useless. For Sukuna, he needed no reason to kill them- the fact that he simply could was more than enough.

But after coming across you, never had he felt such conviction to kill someone than he did right then. If looks could kill, you would have dropped dead a long time ago.

Luckily for you, Sukuna’s one eye held no power other than glaring metaphorical daggers into your soul currently.

“Have you ever considered appearing on the back of Yuuji’s head?” you asked, desperately trying to hold in a laugh. “You guys could dress-up as Professor Quirrell and Voldemort for Halloween!” 

Sukuna’s mouth visibly seethed with rage. People were supposed to fear him, not doubled over on the floor in a laughing fit. 

“The minute I regain full control of this brat’s body, I’m taking you out first.” Sukuna spat from the unconscious Yuuji’s cheek. 

The threat seemed to elicit the desired effect, the sound of your laughter ceasing.

He became curious about the look on your face. Was it trembling with fear? Or even better, maybe you had fainted from shock at the thought of him coming for you. His satisfied sneer quickly dropped though when you reentered his sight. An unexpected questioning look was in your eyes instead of the fear he had hoped for. 

 “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“…”

The room fell silent again. 

You head tilted at his single eye staring blankly at you. 

“…Huh?!”

A smile grew on your face at his heavily confused state.

“Your wanting to “take me out” on a date, right?” you repeated his words, giving him a knowing look. “I mean, it’s a bit unconventional way of asking me out, but I’ll accept it since it’s you.”

His mouth gaped open, and the side of the cheek he was on turned a noticeable shade of pink

“W-What is fucking wrong with you, woman?!” he screeched, clearly appalled at your question. “I meant I’m going to kill you first!”

“Oh,” you shrugged. “Well still, don’t take too long. A girl can only wait so much.” Smiling cheekily at him, you ended off the sentence with a wink in his direction.

But before he could offer you some more colorfully worded threats, Yuuji started to regain consciousness.

___

“You there, Sukuna?” 

Your finger gently poked the sleeping Yuuji’s cheek continuously, waiting for the King of Curses to grace you with his appearance.

“Anybody home?” you tapped again. “Hello?”

“What do you want, woman?” His mouth and single eye popped up.

“I’m just curious about something.” You took his responding silence as permission to continue. “I know you said you’re going to take me out, but what if I die before you regain your strength?”  

The curse scoffed at your question. “Don’t worry, woman. I’ll be the last thing you see before you die.” 

At the thought of you trembling beneath him begging him to have mercy on your life, he let out a series of cackles. He could already imagine the feeling of your sticky blood dripping down his hands, the familiar smell of iron invading the air. 

“Aww, Sukuna, I didn’t know you were such a romantic.” you cooed, breaking him away from his daydreaming. You raised a finger, gently patting his one eye with a smile. “I’ll be looking forward to our date then.”

He quickly scowled at your words. “What do you not fucking understand about me killing you, woman?!” 

The small mouth crunched its teeth in the air, attempting to bit your finger off. Amused, you brought a hand closer to him, wiggling your fingers back and forth, teasingly. Every time he thought he came close to chomping one off, you would pull back at the last second with a giggle. When he eventually let out a growl of frustration, you pushed your pointer finger against his lips, effectively shutting them. 

“Where are we going on our date by the way? Will this place have a dress code?”

Sukuna’s one eye bulges in anger, pure fury blazing in it. 

“You fucking bitch, I’m going to ki-“

“Yes, yes, that’s fine. You can’t wait to kill me.” You waved off his threat, undeterred by the repeated threat. “You’ve said that a hundred times now already. What I want to know is what I should wear on our first date.”

“It’s not a fucking da-“

“Oh, looks like Yuuji’s waking up from his nap.” 

The teenage boy’s eyes slowly blinked open, finally awaking from his afternoon nap. 

“Guess we’ll save the conversation for next time then.” 

And despite the threatening eyes you were met with, you waved him goodbye with a warm smile. A groan of disgust escaped Sukuna’s lips, before disappearing once again. 

___

You had noticed something was off the minute you entered the hallway. 

After successfully exorcising your designated half of curses, you searched around the building for your pink-haired kouhai, when suddenly the whole building was shrouded in darkness. The curse energy the domain gave off was too powerful for any of the curses residing in the building or Yuuji to conjure.

There was a slight shift behind you grabbing your attention. But before you could turn around to see what it was, hands suddenly snaked around your waist. 

“Since the last time we talked, I’ve been thinking about which way would be the most painful way to kill you.” a voice whispered in your ear, lips curling with glee. “All the scenarios ended the same way- with you crying beneath me, begging me for mercy.

With the free time Sukuna had acquired living inside Yuuji, he had infinite time to think about many things, you being among one of them. And after copious amounts of alone time to think to himself, he had come to the conclusion that he just needed to instill some fear into you.  The next you time were paired with the brat in an assignment, he would make sure to have you shaking in terror by the end of it.

“You were thinking about me? That’s so sweet.”

The cruel grin formed on his lips dropped.

“I’m going to kill y- never mind.” He brought a hand up to his forehead, massaging his temples. “Nothing I say is going to get through that fucking head of yours, is it?”

“Mmm, probably not.” you agreed. 

Sukuna now realized you were just stupid. You had to be to be talking to him like this.

You heard him let out a frustrated sigh, and when you turned around in his arms, you were met with a confused Yuuji staring back at you. 

“Senpai, why are we hugging?”

__

*(A/N): Sukuna’s hot. Nuff said.

It got too long to put it all in one post so part two coming soon to a tumblr near you. (probs tomorrow lol)

Part 2 here

[thatslikely]

Stowaways - G.W.

Stowaways- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (former Gryffindor)

Warnings: none! just tooth-rotting George fluff :)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This is my longest fic to date, and I’m so proud of it. I love Georgie so I’m glad to finally write for him. Hope you guys enjoy this one <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and flashbacks/thoughts are in italics.

93 Diagon Alley is a place of wonder, mystique, and above all else, joy. A place where all your best memories are enshrined, a place where you can be your best self, alongside your doting fiery-haired boyfriend, who wears his ginger mop of hair like a halo. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes occupies most of the address, its orange and purple exterior lightening up Diagon Alley effortlessly.  

Its interior is just as magical, the multiple levels of the shop are engulfed with shelves stocked full of Fred and George’s mischievously ingenious products. Some threatened to transfigure you into an eye-popping xanthic canary, while others could spontaneously spawn a whole swamp in the blink of an eye.

Everything within its walls brings smiles to children of all ages, and it could be argued that George is still one of those kids too.

The store seems to make George truly come alive, even more than he was at Hogwarts just a year prior. The look in his eyes as he skillfully operates the store with Fred reminds you of the glow that your face used to hold as a child as you looked longingly through countless toy-store windows around December.

While the shop is the main source of his pride and joy, even its power couldn’t halt the toll of a busy workweek. Every day, new shipments had been zooming in and out of the store, sales at an all-time high. The new lot of Hogwarts students must have a mischievous streak, for student-sent owl orders in preparation for the school year were arriving daily by the barrel-load.

It was finally Friday evening, and George trudged up the back stairs to the flat, his eyelids droopy and back hunched. His lack of energy, however, couldn’t take away from the playfully handsome purple and brown ensemble he wore. He pitifully fiddled with the keys before finally turning the lock, entering the flat promptly, taking in the familiar home-y aroma.  

He promptly plopped down at the small breakfast table near the kitchen, a tired sigh escaping his lips. He pressed his elbow onto the surface of the table, his arm supporting the weight of his head that his neck couldn’t bear any longer.  

“How was your day?  You look absolutely exhausted,” you asked with concern. You already knew you would have to plan something to cheer poor George up.

“I am simply dying, Y/N,” he said, while pretending to go limp like a corpse, “there’s no hope for me. Tell Mum and Ginny I love ‘em.”

“Not even your own twin brother, huh?” you asked sarcastically. He could only respond with a zombie-esque groan.  

You sarcastically rolled your eyes at his dramatic display, glad to see his lack of energy didn’t affect his sense of humor. You walked over to your tired George, who had his head now resting on the back of his chair, eyes spaced out at the ceiling.

You calmly sat down next to the Titian-haired love of your life and laid your head on his strong shoulder, your arm slowly snaking up his back. The motion of your hand alternated between tracing soothing circles lightly on his strained back muscles and massaging his tense shoulder.

He turned his face to you, painted with a soft and grateful grin, glad to finally be home, especially with you. For a few serene minutes, comfortable silence filled the air.  

George had nearly drifted off before the both of you were disrupted by his stomach emitting a loud growl. “I take it you’re hungry, Georgie?”

“Apparently so,” your boyfriend responded, patting his stomach.  

He languidly started undoing his bright amaranthine purple tie when you asked, “Do you want icky leftovers or yummy takeout? I know what I’m voting for.”

“Such a tough decision…” George responded with a wink.

----

By the time dinner was over, the tired look in George’s eyes remained, but the delicious takeout helped remedy his splitting headache.  

The two of you quickly settled on the comfortable marmalade-hued couch to watch one of your favorite muggle movies (it was a comedy of course). George’s laugh never ceased to make your heart flutter, even after all these years. The way it used to echo so freely through the crimson Gryffindor common room, and now through you two’s cozy flat, couldn’t help but make you fall even more madly in love with him. 

George somehow brought out the kid in you that laid dormant for so many years. With him, the world seemed so vibrant; there was always a little adventure waiting for you both, even in mundane activities like laundry. He would bunch up the freshly-washed paisley and tessellated dress shirts that he wore down to the shop daily, pelting them at you like the snowballs that he enchanted to hit Quirrell all the way back in third year.  

You loved George with all your heart, as did he.

After a while of movie-watching, George drifted off into a light sleep. His hazy dream was filled with thoughts of the school he called home for so long. The smell of the burning logs and pumpkin that would drift through his nostrils every morning as he walked down the steps from his dorm; the sound of first years’ giggles as they messed with one of his pranks.

His brain then swam through the blurry memories to the first time he met you, the real you, drinking Firewhiskey and playing truth or dare in the back of the common room with the Golden Trio and crew after a victorious Quidditch game.  

He thought of your first date, your face scrunched with belly-aching laughter as you tried stuffing in as many sweets as you could on a snowy Saturday at Honeydukes. The way the twisted rainbow lollipops and chocolate frogs made your face uncontrollably grin cemented what he swore the moment he first saw you: he vowed to never stop making you smile.   

He couldn’t live a day without your joy-filled face; it enchanted him like the beautiful glow of fireworks against a smokey black sky, like the addicting feeling of adrenaline from breaking the rules.

----

“Georgie,” you whispered, “Georgie!”  

Your drowsy boyfriend slowly drifted back to reality after hearing your soft whisper, your hands lightly tapping his chest to an invisible rhythm.  

He released a yawn before asking, “What is it, angel?”  His eyes fluttered lazily, and his lips were quirked to the smallest of smiles.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep on the couch for the night,” you said caringly, “I knew you’d be even sorer in the morning if you did.”

George’s heart warmed at your thoughtfulness. He quickly took in his surroundings, which starkly contrasted his dreamscape. The television softly droning cheap infomercials instead of the muggle movie he fell asleep to, the blinds closed to hide the velvety black sky, and bits of buttery popcorn strewn across his chest and lap.  

He sat up tiredly, swiping his hand carelessly through his vermillion-pigmented locks. He rubbed his umber eyes as you brushed loose kernels from his clothes to the carpet.  

George muttered, “I love you, Y/N,” quietly, thinking you wouldn’t be able to hear it.  

You did, however, and you reciprocated an “I love you, too” sweetly. You stood up from the couch, extending your hand to help droopy-eyed George up. He took your hand and he rose before walking towards the kitchen, drawn to the stark blue light of the refrigerator.  

The fridge doors popped open, revealing tupperware full of picked-at leftovers, a few odds and ends, and a half-drank bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy. He groaned at the meager scraps of food occupying the fridge, shutting the door disappointedly. The crisp air that surrounded him with a chill dissipated within an instant.  

“Georgie, I think we should go off to bed. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I have a big surprise for you planned,” you said excitedly, coming up behind the man of your dreams, resting your hand steadily on his shoulder. He leaned into your touch as you guided the sleepy boy to the bedroom.

As the two of you laid down to go to sleep, facing one another, George asked in a tired, raspy voice, “What’s the surprise, darling? Or will I have to find out tomorrow?”

“You know I would never spoil a surprise. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

----

George awoke to the delectable scent of freshly-fried bacon and eggs wafting from the humble kitchen. The other half of the bed, he noticed, lay empty, the cozy handmade quilt blanket you usually dozed under laying askew. Sunlight poured through the windows, letting his linen covered body bask in golden morning rays.  

After minutes of continuing to peacefully lay under the covers, absorbing the pure morning ambiance, George finally decided to get up and follow the delicious aromas emitting from the kitchen like a bloodhound.  

As he entered, you were bent over the stove, guiding a spatula around in a lightly tarnished pan, appetizing pancakes browning within. You were still in your sleepwear, wearing oversized plaid pants that dragged across the tile and one of George’s shirts, which was huge on you and smelled strongly of his cologne.

He snuck up behind you quietly as a mouse, before unexpectedly poking the sides of your stomach. You let out a shocked, “George!” before bursting into laughter. Your chuckles blended with his effortlessly, creating a beautiful symphony.  

“Morning, darling. I see you’re making breakfast,” George said with a smirk as he surveyed the surrounding food-covered counters. He seemed in a much better state than he was yesterday, his tired eyes replaced with resplendent brown and gold-speckled ones, which were flooded full of energy reminiscent of his adolescence.  

“I am! And I made all your favorites, so get excited! The day’s only getting started.” You sent him a knowing wink, and he responded with a child-like grin. George giddily opened a cupboard, grabbing two shiny ceramic plates. He forked some already-cooked bacon and eggs onto each plate, shaping the food into two adorable smiley faces.  

“What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing girlfriend like you?” George asked after giving your cheek an affectionate peck.  

“The real question is, what didn’t you do? You’re perfect in my eyes, Georgie,” you heartfeltly admitted as you carried a small plate stacked with butter and syrup-coated warm pancakes coated to the table.  

George had beaten you to the breakfast table, waiting patiently until you finally sat down in the chair to his side. He eagerly stabbed a forkful of egg, stuffing it into his mouth. While Ron was usually credited as the biggest food-lover of the Weasleys, there was no way you could deny that George was runner up.  

He gulped down the rest of the meal quickly, sending breakfast-filled smiles in your direction after every bite. After both of your plates were squeaky-clean, you ventured to the bedroom to get ready for the busy day ahead of you. 

You instructed George to wear “something comfortable,” and he happily complied, throwing on a cream-colored, pin-striped short-sleeve oxford with a pair of worn jeans. You selected something equally as comfortable, and adorable.  

You were in the middle of packing a backpack full of snacks and water when George finally asked, “So… when do I get to know where we’re going?”

“We’re going to Hogwarts,” you said promptly with a knowing smile, greatly contrasting George’s look of perplexion.

“And how exactly are we going to manage that, love? Surely they wouldn’t allow an impromptu visit like this, even good ol’ McGonagall?”  

“Well, let’s just say Hogwarts doesn’t actually know we’ll be there.” 

----

Platform 9 ¾ could be seen bustling with life, the delicious taste of magic floating through the air. It sent you back to all of those years you spent before term, pushing a luggage-stacked trolley across the station.

The scarlet express heaved tufts of smoke from its chimney, a piercing shriek occasionally echoing from its whistle. The magical platform was coated with clumps of young witches and wizards and their parents; the brick floor could barely be seen under all the boots.  

You bid goodbye to your parents, ready to start a new (magical) chapter of your life. As you skipped gleefully to the entrance of the enchanted coach, you caught sight of a rufescent sea of wizards bickering and chuckling with each other. There were six carrot-topped wizards in total: a middle-aged and balding father, an equally middle-aged warm and caring mother, a short and freckle-ridden son who appeared to be the oldest, a tall and stuck-up boy with pretentious-looking glasses who was tightening the crimson tie around his neck, and two identical-looking boys who seemed to be first years as well.

One of them could be seen tieing the stuck-up boy’s shoelaces together, a mischievous smirk on his face as he did. The other was distracting the glasses-wearing brother, shooting the knotter an occasional sneaky glance.  

You smiled at the sight before stepping into the train, eager to make new friends. You felt a little less nervous upon seeing students chatting in their compartments; pure joy from students’ laughing and yelling filled the corridor.

You looked around in search of a promising compartment. Finally, after what felt like hours of looking, you settled on a compartment filled with three other first-years. There were two girls and a boy: one of the girls, Angelina, was animatedly recounting a story, the other, Alicia, sprinkled in witty comments, and a smitten-looking boy named Lee was blushing in the corner, listening intently.  

After a while of bonding with your new friends, the train slowly began to chug along the tracks,  rhythmic clanking creating some pleasant background ambiance. The train began to gain speed before your compartment door was slid open by none other than the vexatious redheaded twins.  

The twin who tied his brother’s shoelaces together, who you later learned was named Fred, confidently took a seat next to Lee. They quickly struck up a conversation, seemingly clicking almost instantly. The twin who served as the distraction for his poor older brother, George, sat down next to you timidly.  

At first, George was too shy to say anything other than a meek, “hello”, but as soon as the trolley stacked with sweets rolled around, he became quite talkative. He was very observant; he would enchant you with beautiful descriptions of the most minute details in the most mundane things.  

George was so observant, in fact, that he noticed you didn’t get anything from the trolley, despite the look on your face saying that it wasn’t by choice. He could only afford a single chocolate frog with the spare change his mother gave him, which he handed to you with a toothy grin.

You yanked on George’s long arm, pulling him behind one of the large brick pillars supporting the platform. “Okay, George, for this to work, we can’t be seen by anyone.” You unsheathed your wand from your pocket, preparing to cast a spell.

“I’m going to cast a disillusionment charm, okay? This should make us blend in with our surroundings so we can sneak onto the train.  If I do it correctly, we should be able to see each other just fine, though.”  

After receiving an accepting nod from George, you gave him a light tap on the shoulder with the tip of your wand. Camouflage slowly dripped down his body, as if someone poured some sort of invisibility paint above his head. Just as quickly as he faded into the pillar behind him, he returned back to normal colors. You hoped he was still invisible to everyone else.  

“Wicked,” he uttered, checking out his arms as they turned invisible and back.

You did the same to yourself without hesitation. George watched with curiosity as you blended seamlessly into the platform; he then admired you as your features slowly returned from invisibility. Every eyelash, every blemish, and every inch of your lips never failed to go unnoticed by him.

“What’s the next step of the plan, Captain?” George asked with a salute.

“So, without being seen, once all the students are off the platform and on the train, we need to sneak onto the caboose, where we should be able to ride safely. After that, it’s smooth sailing to Hogwarts!”

“That sounds easy enough… I think,” George said with his hand in his palm, thinking over the steps of the plan intently.  

“Oh trust me, it’ll be great! I mean, if you can set off fireworks during an exam guarded by Umbridge, you can sneak onto a bloody train.” You gave George a reassuring thumbs-up.

“Don’t even remind me of that soul-sucking bright pink nightmare!” George said with a sarcastic eye roll.

As students slowly started filtering into the train, your time to strike inched closer and closer. Finally, the clock struck eleven, and you and George were dashing across the platform to the back of the train with your hands intertwined with one another’s.

You and George leaped onto the back ledge of the train just in time, for the scarlet locomotive slowly started rolling along the tracks just as you latched onto the railing. The both of you broke into cheers of triumph the moment the train was out of the vicinity of the station.  

“Y/N, look at the window, there’s no reflection of us in it. We really are undetectable,” George mentioned, gesturing towards the window.   

It was unsettling to not see your usual features bouncing off the window, but you were thankful that your charm had worked.  

You moved to sit on the ledge of the train, which was small, only about a foot wide. You put your legs through the wide rails so that the soles of your sneakers nearly dragged on the tracks. George took a seat next to you, his lanky legs sitting crisscross.  

The scenery that the express heaved through was breathtaking; it was even better feeling the crisp air on your face. The rolling moss-tinted hills, vibrant green and yellow trees that dotted the horizon, and worn stone archways that cut through the landscape allowing the train to huff on. All of it reminded you of the impressionist paintings in museums.  

The sunlight bashfully peeked through the clouds like the small flashes of vibrant strawberries hiding under their large green leaves on a serene spring day. The air tasted sweet and refreshing; it felt like you hadn’t ever breathed until your lungs were filled with it.

You and George sat peacefully in silence, listening to the noises of the express and the faint chirping of birds, reflecting on the past. Eventually, he said softly, gaze pointed to the scenery, “I can still remember the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

He continued, “It was the start of fifth year, on this very train. The moment you sat down in the compartment next to me, I just knew.  Everything was different. There were so many things I never noticed until then; it was like my eyes were finally open.”

Silence filled the air. You couldn’t think of what to say, and even if you did, you wouldn’t know how to say it.  

“Everything about you looked so beautiful all of a sudden. The way you moved or swished your wand, the way your lips enunciated every heavenly word that fell from your tongue. All of it.”

George turned to you nervously. What if I messed it all up? What if that wasn’t the right thing to say? he thought. You stared down at the track, lost in the depths of your mind. 

Everything George had ever spoken to you danced through your brain like ballet; his words sounded like rich and eloquent poetry, even his simple cheers or quips at teachers. Your heart felt like it was beating a million times the speed of the chugging crimson engine.

You rapidly pivoted your head to him, his uncertain gaze immediately locking deeply with yours’. Your eyes were clouded with determination and passion, which reflected in the kiss that you swiftly pulled him into. His lips felt magical against yours’, still oozing with lively youthfulness as always.  

George tenderly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, you wrapped one of your hands around the nape of his neck. The kiss softened, becoming something slow and loving. Your other hand intertwined delicately with his’, which lay softly on your thigh.  

After a while of sugary sweet kissing, George’s lips parted, uttering an “I love you,” lightly.

“I love you, too. Promise me you’ll marry me someday?” You asked, still heavily under the angelic ginger’s trance.  

“You know I couldn’t marry anyone but you, Y/N.”

----

The sun slowly retreated behind the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant and fiery orange, which nearly matched the hue of George’s wind-swept hair.  You languidly rested your head on his broad shoulder, staring out in the distance. Your face lingered with euphoria, courtesy of George’s amazing kisses which had just peppered every inch of it.  

The backpack stocked with snacks you perfectly packed was now filled only with empty food wrappers. Most of the various foodstuffs had found a new home safely in your boyfriend’s black hole of a stomach, leaving you with mere crumbs to chew.  

“Georgie… why’d you have to eat all the snacks?  I’m starving,” you asked dramatically, pretending to be skin-and-bones. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t save enough for you, darling. I would give you some but… y’know… they’re in my stomach.” George petted your hair caringly with a regretful smile, his strong fingers gently brushing through your strands, taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

As you sat, gaze towards the breathtaking sunset, George mechanically started braiding a small section of your hair. He had always been an expert at braids; Ginny taught him how to fourth year. His mind was elsewhere than your strands, however, for he was plotting something significantly more mischievous.  

George retracted his hands from your hair, the soothing touch of his fingers dissipating from your scalp. He stood up from the cozy spot beside you, turning to peer through the window of the coach. His eyes scanned the corridor like a hawk, his brain spindling abstract ideas into a devious plan reminiscent of the schemes he so often plotted back at Hogwarts. 

“Georgie, what are you doing?” you asked quizzically. 

After one final glance through the coach window (bearing no reflection), he said with a devilishly handsome and mischievous smirk, “I have a plan.”

Before you could interrogate him any further, in one calculated motion, he swung the emergency door open, leaping inside the train full of students.  

If anyone was skilled enough to pull off whatever he was set on doing, it was George. While Fred was often the instigator of the twins’ famous pranks, George was often pulling the weight of the trick.  

You just hoped the disillusionment charm hadn’t worn off yet.  

----

George silently crept through the corridors of each enchanted coach, elaborately dancing around stray students who occasionally ditched their compartments. His face was scrunched with determination as if he were a raider searching for the holy grail.  

It took all his self-control, and more, to resist sneaking into Malfoy’s compartment and giving him a slap across the head; it was even harder resisting giving Ron a friendly spook, along with the other members of the Golden Trio. He decided to stay on track of his mission, for you and you only.  

Every coach he passed through, he became increasingly more irritated and nervous. Now that he was an adult, there wouldn’t just be a simple ten points deducted from Gryffindor, no. Sneaking onto a train full of students and stealing candy from the poor old lady’s trolley of sweets would be a hefty fine. Molly would definitely not be pleased.  

Finally, in the coach closest to the engine (and unfortunately furthest from the back), laid the trolley, luckily unattended. It was practically overflowing with classic sweets that he used to enjoy so much: colorful Berties Botts Every Flavour Beans (he swears he got a booger flavored one once), towering stacks of frosted cauldron cakes, clear-as-glass sugar quills, and chocolate frogs.   

George, of course, knew your favorite anything and everything like the back of his hand. He swiftly grabbed a package of candy from the bottom rack of the trolley, a twinge of guilt hitting him in the heart. The kind old lady would be down one treat. His guilt was quickly alleviated when magically, another perfectly packaged sweet filled the empty space.  

The expedition back to the caboose was a decidedly more risky one; it’s a lot more obvious that someone is invisible when a piece of candy is levitating midair. Luckily, the darker it got outside, the more students opted for the comfort of their cozy compartments, which fostered the perfect environment for sleeping. After all, when he and Fred would pull pranks on the train, this was the hour they’d hit the hardest.  

He was nearly to the back coach when a now sixth year Neville Longbottom emerged from his cabin, a defeated look on his face. A harshly conquered game of wizard’s chess could be seen, Luna Lovegood sitting next to the board with a neutral smile resting on her lips.  

George had tried to dance around Neville, but Longbottom’s clumsiness was no match for him. Not even a second passed before Neville rammed headfirst into George’s chest, falling backward. He laid on the floor for a minute, dumbfounded, before cautiously getting up, reaching for the floating sweet that George grasped high above his head.

George couldn’t help but mutter a low ‘sorry’ to poor Neville before rapidly darting past him towards the door. Neville looked around suspiciously for a minute longer before accepting the fact that he had likely been the subject of another foul prank.  

Finally, unscathed, George returned to the rear of the train, where you lay half sprawled across the ledge sleepily. Your eyes were closed, your ears focused on the calming rhythmic rattling of the wheels on the track.

A small smile couldn’t help but creep onto George’s face at the sight of you asleep. He gently tapped you awake, a soft hum escaping his lips. Your eyes fluttered open, a loving look glazing them.  

“What is it, Georgie?” you asked, taking in your surroundings.  

“Just wanted to make sure that you didn’t fall asleep here. You’d be sore by the time we get to our destination if you did,” George said with a wink. 

He outstretched his hand like Prince Charming, helping you stand up from the floor. Your rubious-haired boyfriend inconspicuously held his other hand behind his back, concealing the candy in his large palm.   

“Where did you go, George? One moment you’re out here with me, next moment you’re off into the train packed full of people!” you questioned curiously, inspecting George from head to toe.

“Well, you said you were hungry, so naturally....” he said, “I had to get you something to eat.”

George held out a single chocolate frog in his hand like a proud little kid. He wore the exact same smile he sported first year: a look radiating innocence and kindness. You gingerly accepted the frog, slowly unwrapping the chocolate and stuffing the card in your pocket for Ron.  

“...just like first year,” you muttered, barely able to make a sound.

You were seated on the tail of the express once again, eyes pointed towards the inky black and star-blemished sky. George quickly mirrored your actions, comfortably sitting next to you. While you munched on your chocolate frog joyfully, George rested his head on your shoulder, even though he was very much taller than you. He momentarily began humming a lullaby he learned as a baby; the vibrations emitted from his voice box resonated comfortingly through your body.  

His angelic humming echoed lovingly through your brain all the way to Hogwarts.

----

The train screeched to a halt at the Hogwarts station behind the school. The soothing rattle of the train ceased, to your dismay, and exuberant students began to flood out of the express like a tidal wave. You and George trailed far behind the various cliques of students, cracking jokes at the expense of the new first years.  

“Look at that poor one!  He’s fixed to become the new Neville!” you said laughing, before getting a playful elbow from George.  

“McGonagall will have quite the handful with those two over there. Reckon they’ll be tricksters like us?” George asked with a nostalgic laugh, pointing at two boys who were sneakily distributing some sort of (surely hexed) candy to their gullible peers. They looked so much like Fred and George did in their first year, down to the very same expression.  

“No doubt about it,” you said confidently, darting your eyes comparatively from the boys to your boyfriend. “It really is quite uncanny.”

Soon enough, the towering main entrance to the castle was opened with a swish, and the distinctly familiar smell flooded your nostrils. You were finally home once again. Not much had changed since you left, besides the absence of all of Umbridge’s devious decrees, replaced with some friendly-looking paintings.  

“Looks the exact same, doesn’t it?” George whispered, careful to be unnoticed by the excited soon-to-be-sorted first years who were guided to the Great Hall. You nodded yes, clenching his hand harder with exhilaration.  

Instead of risking getting caught during the time-honored Sorting Ceremony, you and George walked aimlessly, enjoying the unique ambiance of the school. After a while of galavanting around the halls, you climbed the moving steps towards the Gryffindor tower.

“Open up, it's George,” he whispered to the portrait of the Fat Lady with a smirk, and surprisingly, she obliged with a pleasantly surprised smile. Your stare flickered from George to the portrait, mouth agape.  

“Let’s just say, me and the Fat Lady have a lot of… history. Oh, not like that!” George let out a laugh followed by an adorable wink.

You gravitated towards the comfortable crimson couches which sat by the large and inviting fireplace, dragging George’s hand behind you.  

Your body melted into the red plush of the couch, the soft material much more desirable than the stiff metal rails of the express. Your carrot-topped better half took a seat next to you, his body intertwining with yours.

Gryffindors threatened to flood into the common room any given moment, so you wasted no time pulling George’s soft shirt to your chest for a gentle and loving kiss.  

“Blimey! Get a room you two!” Ron said, walking towards the two of you from the portrait, gagging.

“I guess the charm’s worn off, Georgie.”

“Just in time, too,” he said with a slightly cocky smile.  

You turned to Ron, who reluctantly held his arms out for a hug. You ran to him with all your might, meeting the messy-haired ginger’s chest. “I’m so glad to see you again.  It’s felt like ages.”

“Glad to see you too, Y/N,” he said with a genuine smile.  

Harry and Hermione entered not long after, a matching perplexed expression on their faces.  “Y/N? George? How’d you get in here? Surely McGonagall wouldn’t permit a visit such as this?” Hermione asked, giving you a small but confused hug.  

“Well, the thing is, no one knows we’re actually here,” George said, a grin on his face.  

“How’d you do it? Sneak in here, I mean,” Harry asked, eager to learn a new way to sneak to the school.  

“Snuck onto the express. Brilliant idea and execution courtesy of my dear Y/N. She’s a genius in training. Learning from the best, of course,” George said sarcastically, his thumb pointing to his chest.  

“Very funny, Georgie.  This one was all me.  My magnum opus, some would say.”

----

The ensuing night was amazing. Laughter echoed through the cherry-tinted walls of the common room like a magnificent orchestra; classic games like spin the bottle and truth or dare were played religiously.  

By the time it struck midnight, your mind had nearly escaped to your hazy dreamscape too many times to count. It had been a long day; you started early with cooking a full breakfast, sneaking onto the Hogwarts Express, and partying for hours into the night with the Gryffindors, all with the love of your life. To say you were exhausted was a massive understatement. 

Harry had graciously offered his comfortable bed to you, Ron reluctantly sacrificing his to George. “You owe me one,” he repeatedly grumbled to his older brother, who plastered a sickly innocent smile on in response.  

George took quick notice of the unfathomable exhaustion plastered onto your face from his couch across from you, immediately announcing to the chatting group of friends, “I think it’s time for me and Y/N to turn in for the night. See you all in the morning.”  

‘Goodnights’ drifted in and out of your ears as George picked you up from the couch bridal-style, carrying you light-as-a feather up the steps to the boys’ dorms. He could envision a furious Head Boy Percy demanding, ‘Put her down, George!  Girls sleep in the girls’ dormitories, boys in the boys’!  They have that rule for a reason!’ 

He smiled as he creaked open the sixth year boys’ dorm’s door, laying you peacefully onto Harry’s scarlet four-poster bed. He grabbed some cozy knitted blankets, gently setting them over your body.

“There you are, angel, have a good nights’ sleep. I love you with all my heart,” George cooed.  He turned to Ron’s bed with a smile before you grasped his hand desperately.

“Before you go to bed Georgie, did you have fun today?  I know you super were stressed out yesterday and all,” your words came out slurred and tired, some borderline incoherent.  

“I have fun any time I’m with you, darling,” he said, smoothing your ruffled hair. “But yes, I had the time of my life with you today. Just being with you makes my day infinitely brighter. You’re like my little sunshine.”

“And will you actually marry me someday, Georgie?” you asked, your droopy eyes filled with an unfathomable and everlasting love. You were deep under the heavenly redhead’s spell once again.

“I always keep my word, darling.”

[mrslittletall]

saw your whump post, honestly the "I'm fine" screams Hornet to me, so it'd be cool to see that! - dooblebugs

Title: The Idol Fandom: Hollow Knight Characters: Hornet & Little Ghost Word Count: 2.825 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30941981

Summary: After the Hollow Knight is freed from the temple, Hornet does her best to take care of the ones that are still left in Hallownest. Everything should be fine... until it isn't.

(Author's note:  @dooblebugs

I thought about using canon verse with “Almost everyone lives AU” or your Mer AU. But ultimately, canon verse won, because I still miss some context for the Mer AU. I hope you enjoy.)

Hornet opened her eyes and jumped on her feet right away. Her day would always start with hunting and gathering food, preferably before Hollow woke up and tried to move, and it was a whole other problem trying to haul a bug their size back into bed, especially when they rigorously ignored their wounds.

While Hornet trusted Quirrel and Cloth enough to leave Hollow in their care for a while, she always felt better if she could look over them personally. However, the longer she hesitated with leaving, the longer she would need to come back, so Hornet left the house in Dirtmouth they had inhabited for Hollow's recovery and went towards the crossroads.

The little pitter-patter of tiny feet next to her prompted Hornet to look down. Ghost had decided to accompany her again. They always would. She could tell them a hundred times to stay behind, they would never listen. For a vessel meant to be void of mind, Ghost was one of the bugs with the strongest will that Hornet ever had seen.

“You will still come with me, even if I say no, right, little Ghost?”, Hornet said, shouldering her needle. Ghost didn't nod or sign at her, they simply stared, with their unblinking, never changing expression. It was enough for Hornet to know that they wouldn't leave.

“Alright, but don't get into my way.”, Hornet said. At this, Ghost swung their nail and jumped in front of Hornet in a pose that depicted a challenge, then their nail went down on the ground in a strike, the swing of it breaking through the calmness of the morning.

“I know! I know! You've beaten me twice, but... I have gone easy on you.”, Hornet half hissed. It was a blatant lie and she knew it. The first time she had simply underestimated them (or she simply had become tired of fighting) and the second time... she had given it her all and they still had remained victorious. In a sense, Ghost was the new king of Hallownest, but they didn't seem to put any mind on the title. They didn't even seem to be wanting to be celebrated for being the saviour of Hallownest. They simply joined Hornet every morning for hunting and went off on their own afterwards, always coming back to play with their friends in Dirtmouth.

As the both of them jumped down the well, Hornet couldn't help but think about that there wasn't much to rule anymore. This kingdom was in shambles. It had been two weeks and the dried off infection still crusted the crossroads, too little bugs alive to care much about cleaning the place up. It was becoming more and more difficult to get food, because so many of the infected had simply been reanimated husks, without any meat left in them.

They surely would have to wander to Greenpath again, hopefully finding a few vengeflies and mosscreeps to bring home.

Hornet was used being alone. She had been alone for a very long time. She had managed. She never was lonely... well, maybe a little lonely and now there was a bunch of strangers up in Dirtmouth who relied on her. Hornet never wanted for anyone to rely on her. She had seen what happened when bugs relied on someone and... there wasn't a solution.

She looked down on Ghost again, they had their nail on the ready and stared vigilantly in front of them. They must have crossed this crossroads a dozen times on their journey, still expecting to be attacked by the infected every given minute. Hornet could understand that it was hard for them to let go of old habits.

She was the same. She never let go of her needle as well. Even with the infection never being able to come back, she had to remain vigilant. She would protect her siblings, no matter what. She wouldn't, no she couldn't, let anyone down.

“We are nearing Greenpath.”, she said, only to cut through the silence between them. She knew it wasn't Ghost's fault that they didn't have a voice, but after years of not being able to talk to anyone, Hornet barely could stand the silence, when there was someone she could talk to. “Remember, when we hunt the mosscreeps, take their leaves as well, for the herbivores.”

While Hornet was able to eat plant matter as well, it never had been satisfying to her. She was the daughter of a spider and a wyrm, both predators, and therefore she usually would hunt for food. She was unsure about what kind of diet Ghost and Hollow needed, but they seemed to be content with the prey she brought back, so she wouldn't change anything about it.

“And remember, we can't hunt too much. The population needs a chance to recover.”, she said as well. The infection had done a number on the whole of Hallownest... it wasn't a surprise that there was such a food shortage. In fact, Hornet had cut her own food intake in favour of her siblings and anyone who couldn't hunt or still needed to recover. That bug, Tiso, came to mind. Had a far too big stomach for having been utterly destroyed by the colloseum of fools. Why Ghost had dragged him back to Dirthmouth, she would never understand.

Ghost showed that they understood with a little nod of their head and the both of them entered Greenpath. It was a MUCH nicer place without the infection, but they still had to pay attention, the fool eater plants were easy to overlook (not that Hornet had ever overlooked them, but Ghost tended to forget...) and there were some predators still around, though they were no match for her needle. The problem was to avoid them to not hunt too much. Like she had said to Ghost, they needed to give the population time to recover, if they wouldn't want all to starve beforehand.

“We get only enough for everyone back in Dirtmouth.”, Hornet said again. “Then we leave again. Let's search for some mosscreeps first.”

The both of them jumped and slashed their way through the vegetation of Greenpath. While Hornet preferred to use her needle, Ghost had found a lot of new ways to move around since the first time they fought and they dashed (literally leaving their shell behind and somehow phasing through time and space) and jumped with wings that reminded Hornet of her father... and she got a bad feeling in her guts every time she saw them.

After a bit of time, they had managed to hunt two vengeflies to bring back, Hornet keeping them cocooned up for transportation and were now searching through the vegetation for some mosscreeps. Finally, Hornet found one and struck it down with her needle, preparing a cocoon for it again, when Ghost picked something up from the grass.

“Ghost, what do you have there?”, Hornet asked. The item was too small to be prey and they tended to hoard stuff they found. It probably was just something that was completely worthless nowadays, only generating Geo when given to this historian in the City of Tears. She still wanted to know.

Ghost came over and laid the thing they had picked up in her outstretched hand. When she looked down on it, she froze.

It was a King's Idol, the item that the citizens of Hallownest had crafted to worship her reclusive father. Each of them looked different, but they all shared the general shape and depicted his most salient feature: The horns that resembled a crown.

Staring down at it, something in Hornet broke. It might have been the stress she felt since Ghost had arrived. Or the fact that Hollow recovered from years of abuse from both the gods of Hallownest. Or that she was running on an empty stomach most of the time. But once she saw that thing, all her frustration crashed down on her at once.

You!”, she hissed. “It was all your fault! You knew that the plan wouldn't work! You knew that they would suffer and you still have let it happen! The teacher, the watcher, my mother, all sacrificed for nothing! And then, in the moment you were needed the most, you vanished, you damn coward! We needed you! I needed you! I hate you. I hate you and I can't even say it to your face anymore!”

Hornet threw the king's idol on the ground with so much force that it skipped on the ground and then fell on her knees, slowly getting aware of the tears on her face and the presence of little ice cold hands patting her arm.

“I am fine.”, she said, wiping the tears away. Just a moment of weakness, nothing else. Even though she could feel the judgemental stare of Ghost, she was fine. She had to be. “Seriously, I am fine.”, she continued once more. “Let's continue hunting.”

As Hornet was putting her composure back together, she didn't notice how Ghost continued to stare at her, picking up the idol from the ground, and only starting to move again once she called out for them.

The hunt had been more or less successful. At least they had found enough prey that nobody should go terribly hungry (at least when Hornet halved her own portion again). As usual, hunting had taken the better part of the day. Hornet would have liked to go hunt at some different locations, but the Old Stag from the stag ways wasn't around lately, apparently he was taking care of some personal business. With him not being around, it was just too far to walk to the Fungal Wastes or Deepnest, at least not when she wanted to come back the same day.

Currently Hornet took in her meal in Hollow's room with Ghost present as well. She was busy thinking about if there was another route that would make sure she could hunt elsewhere but Greenpath for once, when she felt a nudge. When she looked down, she saw how Ghost offered them a half of their mosscreep, holding the prey up in their little hands, seemingly eagerly awaiting for her to take it.

“I can't take this, Ghost.”, Hornet said. “You need all the food you can get, you are still growing.”

Ghost cocked their head and for once their eternal deadpan expression was on point. Hornet knew how ridiculous her argument was. Ghost had been born before her. They hadn't grown in years. Their body had been unable to grow because they didn't had access to void. “You know what I mean.”, she defended herself. There was the possibility that Ghost would start to grow as long as they stayed in Hallownest.

Ghost offered their meal a little while longer and then gave up with a little frustrated stomp of their foot. It was then when Hornet felt another nudge... this time it was Hollow, who had simply watched the scene unfold in front of them, offering their part of their meal.

“Oh no, not you too, Hollow.”, Hornet sighed. “You need the food much more than me, you are still recovering. I won't accept anything from you.”

The both vessels shared a look and once again Hornet asked herself if they could talk to each with some kind of void telepathy, before both of them looked at the ground in defeat.

“I am fine.”, Hornet repeated herself, she knew that. “Really, I am fine...”

Hornet awoke the next morning... not because her stomach cramped and she had trouble sleeping because of it, but because someone nudged her. She cracked one eye open and murmured: “It's barely morning...” She just craved to go back to sleep, to forget about the day in front of her for a few minutes longer, but the nudging got more and more intense, until she shouted: “Fine! I am getting up! Stop bothering me!”

It was Ghost in front of her and immediately Hornet stopped being annoyed. What if something had happened? “Is something the matter with Hollow? Or is a threat approaching the village?”, she asked, already fumbling for her needle, once again forgetting that Ghost was more than capable of defending the village themselves. They just looked too much like a little, defenseless child, even though Hornet had experienced otherwise.

Gladly, Ghost shook their head, though this put Hornet right back into annoyance. “Then why have you woken me up?”, she said, falling back down in her pillows, ignoring the urge to close her eyes and looking at Ghost again, making sure to give them a judgemental stare.

Ghost did grip something under their cloak (wings? Hornet never knew what this thing around the vessels was) and after a bit of struggling, they produced a jar... a jar filled with honey. The smell actually made Hornet's mouth water. Honey was one of the few things she liked to eat that wasn't meat, mostly because she had trained in the Hive in her youth.

Though, as lucky as she felt about having more food, she couldn't help but scold Ghost. “Ghost, did you get this on your own? The Hive is dangerous, even without the infection! What if the Hive Knight would have found you?”

Ghost shook their head and then outstretched their hand, showing Hornet a shiny little charm. A charm she remembered. The charm of the Hive. “Wait, you have been there and challenged him already?” Hornet wanted to be surprised, but Ghost couldn't really surprise her anymore. When they could surprise her somehow, then it was that they were full of surprises.

“Anyway... I guess I have to thank you, though I don't approve that you sneak out at night into the Hive.”, Hornet murmured. “At least we have more food for the group now..”

Ghost rigorously shook their head and pressed the jar in her hands. “For me?”, Hornet asked and Ghost nodded.

“But... Ghost, I appreciate it, but I don't need.. the others need the food much more than...”

Another shook of their head and a stomp of their foot along with crossed arms and a slight turn around. Hornet suddenly felt very small, she had never seen them that upset.

“Alright, alright...”, she said. “Maybe I have eaten insufficient lately...”

Ghost nodded again and gave the jar of honey another press, so that she had to hold it firmly in her hands.

“Alright alright...”, Hornet finally gave in. “I will take your offer, Ghost.”

As she opened the jar, her hunger became more and more apparent and soon she dug in and had finished the whole jar in what felt like no time and finally, for once, she didn't feel overly hungry. Satisfied even.

She then saw Ghost holding up something. A little rock with a few letters written on it. Lately Cornifer had given them writing lessons, though it still was a work in progress.

“Fine?”

That was the word they had painted on the rock (where did they even have the colours from?).

“I am fine.”, Hornet said. “This time for real. I am sorry, Ghost, I shouldn't have lied to you. I just feel so... responsible for everyone. I can't show weakness in front of anyone.”

Ghost shook their head again and then got something out. Hornet recognized it as the King's Idol they had found in Greenpath. They tossed it at the ground, just as she had done and then hit it with their nail, leaving a notable crack in it.

“You as well don't have the best memories of him, right?”, Hornet said. Both of them had been left behind, though in a different kind of way. Ghost had been discarded and Hornet had been left with responsibility far too huge for her age.

Ghost nodded again and gave the King's Idol another smack, so that it landed in front of her. Hornet took it into her hands and stared at it. She did miss him, that she had to admit to herself, but she also knew that her anger and her disappointment were real and there was no reason to hide it in front of Ghost.

She squeezed the Idol until it cracked into two pieces and just watched as they fell down. “Thank you, Ghost.”, she said. “But make sure to not tell Hollow about this.”

The way Hollow idealized their father... it would break their heart seeing his image being defiled like that.

Another quick nod and then Ghost actually got another one out, their face clearly saying: “Wanna break another?”

A grin crept over Hornet's face. She would never get her mother back or escape her responsibilities, but at least she could vent out her frustrations, even though it took her sibling for her to realize.

“Oh you bet I want.” (Author's note: Little Ghost is kinda fun to write. I think they are a character mostly showing what they feel through body language and it was fun to come up with how they would act. I also like to think that they can stare very judgemental, even though their expression never changes, a stare of them can make anyone falter. Hornet's relationship to PK is... complicated. He hasn't actually been a bad father to her, but as the infection came back and depression took over, he left her alone more and more and she got angry about it... especially when he decided to just vanish. She felt utterly betrayed by it and it is a huge source of her frustration and anger. I put in some little references to the game in there, try to find them if you please.)

[whatsmyisyours]

To Kingdom's Edge And Back

Oh how the little vessel hated this climb. Back up the main column of Kingdom’s Edge to the Colosseum of Fools. It had died many times up this way just to be let back into the City of Tears at the end all because he was a few geo short to enter the first trial. The vessel took the bench in the pit though. Talking to Tiso was lovely after that ascent. The Knight hoped Tiso’s trial was going well. Only a few more steps then. Tiso. Oh Wyrm. Tiso! He lay, back in the snow, thrown from the Colosseum at the top of Hallownest. Was he dead? The Knight made a mad dash over to where his fallen friend lay latching on to the ledge and pulling itself up. Its hand was small enough to fit under the armor Tiso wore. The vessel’s cold void connected to the throat of the fighter. It was faint, but there was a beat. Tiso was hanging on to life. The vessel rejoyed. Then it started to plan. First, they needed safety. The nearest stag station was King’s Station. From where Tiso lies it would be a fall, but he had cleared out the Tower of Love awhile ago, along with that it was warm and padded. He pulled Tiso’s unconscious body onto its back, securing him with the strap ment for the vessel’s nail. It was a long way down, but for Tiso it would take that plunge.

A few more seconds. Then they would hit the snow. He raised Tiso just above its head so Tiso’s body would make no contact with the ground in case this failed. The vessel’s eyes locked to the door, and it told its body to dash. Thus, they had made it in. They were in the higher part of the Tower. How comforting the once sickening padding of the room was. The Knight jumped the small gap and brought the warrior fully into the Tower of Love. It worked quickly. Unstrapping Tiso’s from its back, opening up the fighter’s armor to assess the wounds. In the vessel’s many deaths it had grown a knowledge of area’s that could kill in seconds if left to bleed. Tiso’s armor had done him well but his arms were covered in bleeding bites, cuts, and acid. His legs were just as bad. The Knight focused the soul it had into its hands. The vessel had learned many things in the water-stained city, one of which was a very useful spell to heal those injured with the caster’s soul. The Knight rubbed Tiso’s arms as soul moved from his voided form to Tiso’s body, breathing life into it. The Knight was no healer though it could only do so much with half soul. It went to clean the route to the stag station. As it did this it pondered its options. There were a few. The first, Quirrel, last seen at the Blue Lake, with years under Monomon and in the wilds he would know a fair amount of medicine if not for others then for himself. The second, the Snail Shaman, he had given the vessel its first spell, surely the vessel could teach it what he had learned and the Shaman could apply it tenfold. The last contender was Confessor Jiji, though she dapples in the void more than the physical if it came down to her it was worth the shot. Though the Knight wanted to visit one place before he went to see any bug. The Bath House in the City was worth a gamble.

Jumping past the large guards is much harder when you have an armored bug on your back. But there was no going back now. The Spring was in view. The Knight rushes in as the guard approaches it. Striking the lever in the elevator listening from afar to the singer’s ghost that still haunts the stage, her voice always brought peace to the vessel. Finally the elevator stops and the two bugs leave it to start the small climb to the spring. Once again unstrapping Tiso from it’s back and removing his armor. The vessel grabs Tiso’s head. Holding too much respect for the fighter to remove his head scarf. Tiso will just have to deal with it if he wakes up. NO. No. When he wakes up. Tiso will wake up. The vessel shakes its head. Back to the task hand, the Knight drags Tiso into the Hot Spring, taking care to make sure Tiso’s body doesn’t sink. After minutes it had to drag Tiso back out. The vessel felt better already, but clearly the Springs did not have the same effect on the fighter. Tiso was still unconscious. Putting his armor back on, the vessel strapped Tiso back on and made his way to the elevator. To the stag then the Resting Grounds.

The chime of a bell echoed. Then the quake of legs running to the station. “Hello little one! Where are we goin-... Your friend does not look well.” The vessel nods. With no voice he could not tell the Stag of the Colosseum or of Tiso’s state. “I suggest putting him in my luggage saddle. For it seems he would not be able to sit up by himself.” The Knight shook his head. That was no place for a warrior. Neither was his plan, but it was more respectable than the luggage saddle. The Knight patted his lap. The Stag was confused “You plan to… have him ride in your lap?” The Knight nods. The Stag sighs “I cannot stop you if that is what you wish, but hold onto him tight. I don’t want to see him falling off. Now where are we off to little one?” Vessel tapped his map on the Resting Grounds. This was going to be a ride.

The Blue Lake was a far march. As the vessel sat on the bench, map in hand, it planned a path of least resistance. It would pass the statue to the Dreamers and Xero’s grave to get to the Lake. No infected bugs would be on this path. Perfect. Putting the map back, the Knight looks to Tiso. The vessel hopes the trip will end here. With Tiso reattached it waves to the Stag as he walks out of the room. Taking care to fall one platform at a time. Passing the Dreamer’s statue the vessel looks up. All of their masks were gone. Broken. The Knight still had work to do before it faced its sibling though. A friend to heal, a King Soul to bathe in void, and a Pathon to fight. It broke the seal on the Egg in case it got tired of fighting the Pathon of Hallownest and just wanted to face its sibling head on. The vessel look up from its thoughts to see Quirrel sitting by the Blue Lake. Quirrel looks to the Knight. “Ah! Hello again small friend! My… who is that you carry?” The vessel undid the straps on his back letting Tiso fall to the sandy shore. Taking Quirrel’s hand the focusing its soul so if it were hurt it would heal. “You believe I can heal your friend?” The vessel nods and pulls Quirrel toward Tiso. “I will have a look at your friend, for, a friend of a friend, is a friend of mine.” The Knight waits as Quirrel looks over Tiso. The silence was killing the vessel slowly. “Well, I’m sorry to say but it seems your friend has taken internal damage, and I am no doctor. What I could do has been done.” The vessel quivers. Its first option was down. Two to go. Hold on there TIso. I will find help for you yet. The vessel bowed to Quirrel, as a thanks. Back to the Stag then, the Infected Crossroads.

Clearing the path to the Snail Shaman came easily to the Knight. It had gone to talk with the Shaman after defeating the Broken Vessel in the Ancient Basin to ask where to get more spells from. The last runner had exploded. Time to go get Tiso and bring him through.This was becoming quite an effort. Bone rattled under the vessel’s feet as it ascended the mound, the flames flickered as it passed. Skulls or masks watch the march. The rattle of bones and the sound of something hopping into a bench startled the Shaman. He walked over to see if another infected had made way into his home. More and more these days they were finding ways in. Soon he would have to lock his door. To his surprise it was his friend, another bug strapped to its back. What possessed it to make a trip here? “Ohohoh! You gave me quite the startle friend! I thought you were another infected bug. Say who do you have here? They don’t look well at all.” The vessel looked up from where it was sitting, got up and grabbed the Snail Shaman. “Ohohoh! A little rough today, are we? Do you need me to do something?” The Knight nodded. It dragged the Shaman over to Tiso who now lay on the bench. Starting the healing spell to its hands, it looks back and forth from the Shaman to Tiso to its hands, waving them from time to time. The Shaman finally caught on, “You want me to cast the spell you are to heal your friend here? Hmm…” The Shaman looked almost guilty. No. Please. “Shadow I will be blunt with you. I craft spells. And the craft takes time. I have a very difficult time learning spells from others who can speak, let alone a Shadow that cannot. I will work on making a spell that I can use to heal your friend, but it will be days. I suggest you try someone, or something else in the meantime.” The spell dissipates from the Knights hands. Void starts to well in its sockets, as its body shakes, it looks to Tiso and nods. The Knight made sure the spell didn’t waste as the Shaman talked, which means he had more time, but at what point would it be pointless to continue Tiso’s suffering? At what point would it give up? It knew half an answer. Not now. The vessel wiped the void leaking from its sockets, cleared the way, thanked the Shaman for his time, strapped Tiso back on once again, and headed for the Station. Two down, one to go. Confessor Jiji was the vessel's last hope.

The vessel needed more rancid eggs. Worst of all there were very few left in the world, around three, and the Knight wanted ten before it went to see Jiji. It would have to visit Tuk. The vessel despised the Fluke and all that they are. Not only were they creepy, even compared to the beast of deepnest, they were frankly a pain in the ass to kill. Luckily the Knight didn’t have to carry Tiso with it even though this would take awhile, it had a plan. It had left Tiso strapped to the Stag, so if the need arose, the Stag could take off without worry that Tiso would go flying. The vessel entered Tuks' little hole with three eggs already in hand. It paid for seven more. Hopefully this would be enough for Confessor Jiji. For a moment the Knight thought of buying ten more. But it quickly turned down the notion. If Jiji wanted more the vessel would gladly pay after Jiji did whatever she needed to do. Time to go. The bench felt nice after the smell and dampness of the Waterways. “Ah! Welcome back little one, are we off to Dirtmouth?” The Last Stag question. The Knight unstraps Tiso and nods. Its last hope. Please, let this work. This must work. For Tiso. For me. Void drips from the vessel's empty eyes. A rumble shakes the ground as the Stag charges off to the Knight’s last stop.

As the Knight emerged from the Stag Station Sly’s and Elderbug’s conversation came to quick. They saw who the vessel had strapped to itself. The brave man in seek of the Colosseum of Fool. The warrior looking for a challenge The light in his eyes was gone. This left only darkness in its wake. The Knight passed Bretta and Zote. This only allowed Zote to slander the vessel further. “I bet that beast killed the warrior. No doubt in fact. I only wish I was there to save that wonderful bug.” Zote toted. Zote can shove it. “Another dead to bury? Hand him over, ittle nuisance.” The Knight slapped the ghosts hand away. You will pull this bug off my corpse. I dare you. The vessel steps into the Confessor’s cave. Tired from carrying Tiso for so long. “Ah, hello again. Have you- Oh. I see you brought your regrets strapped to your back today.” The Knight pulls out all the eggs it carried. Void threatens to drop onto the Confessor’s floors. The Confessor reaches out a claw to the small vessel, “Hush now. You have travelled to many places to help your friend. But found no one capable. Your travels end here, though.” Does Jiji mean… No. Jiji, please help him. Please. I can’t. I can’t- “Did you know before I became a Confessor I wanted to be a doctor. I even went to school in the capital!” Huh? The vessel looked up. Was Confessor Jiji truly going to help it? Or was she just spinning a tale to calm the Knight. “Can I see the patient please?” The Knight pushes the eggs first, “No need for payment for this work. I will always mend the physical for free.” The Knight turns around to allow Jiji access to the strap on its back. Once Tiso’s weight had left it, the vessel turned to follow after Jiji. “Do you want to help?” The Knight nods, firing up the healing spell again. “Okay then, you may help me. Just try not to get in the way of my tools. This work will be more delicate than just summoning a shade.”

The procedure felt like a lifetime. The soul from the Knight moved slowly to last. For the vessel doesn’t know what would happen to its friend if it was not there, feeding the body, keeping Tiso breathing. Watching Jiji work inside Tiso hurt as though the vessel was Tiso. The Knight was used to blood, guts, and gore, the infection did cruel work on the bugs it wormed inside. But this was its friend. The Little Fool would suffer after this. The vessel looked over its friend. The whole Colosseum will be purged of every bug, beast, and insect. I promise those fools will know the rage of wyrm, root, and void, Tiso. The Confessor started to sew up Tiso, as the vessel started to shake. “Are you okay?” The vessel nodded as the soul in its hands started to fade. “You look tired. You should stop that spell,” Jiji looked from her work, “It will take everything from you and give it away, if you are not careful with its use. You need to stop.” The Knight shook its head. Not until you're done. Not until Tiso is closed and in a be- The white pouring from the vessel’s hands stopped as its body fell to the floor. It felt so tired. But there was still work to be done. The vessel tried to pull itself to Tiso. Please. I’m tired. But I need to help. I need help. I can’t. Not yet. Not don- And with a thud, as the last stitch was placed into Tiso, the vessel’s heavy skull hit the floor. Passing out. The void consuming it as if birthed again.

The Knight awoke in a strange room. On instinct it took out its nail and looked around. There in a bed next to the vessel lies Tiso snoring. On the other side, Confessor Jiji was also asleep. No infected bugs. Nothing to do but wait. Well. The others did need to eat. The vessel walked up to Jiji holding out a rancid egg, the smell awaking Jiji. “I see you have woken. I warned you of that spell.” The Confessor looked to the Knight. “Again I do not need payment for this work.” The vessel shook its head. Holding up the egg to Jiji. To eat. Not for work. “Ah, thank you for the food though. I will be delighted with this meal.” Next to stir was Tiso. “Pale... thing? Where are we? I… must get back to the Colosseum. Ack!” The stitch sent a shock up Tiso's body as he tried to move out of the bed. “Ahh good morning to you too. Your friend here brought you in. You have been badly injured, but I was able to mend most, if not all damage. Since you will be with me for a while may I ask your name? Mine is Confessor Jiji by the way.” At this point Tiso noticed the lack of his armor. He frantically felt around his head to check if his veil was still there. He felt more at ease with the knowledge that the hood was still there. “My name is Tiso. How long must I stay here?” The Knight watched the back and forth between Tiso and Jiji, happy that they got along. Happy Tiso was alive. “Ah! Pale thing. You’re crying, is something the matter?” The Knight shakes its head and using its hands draws a smile across its face. I’m happy you're alive. “By the way. Thank you. Really. If not for you I would have died. If you need me you know where to find me, Pale Thing.” The Knight nods as it leaves the cave. It walked into town and rested on the bench. It had much to do. But first. Revenge will be sweet. The Knight heads to the Stag asking for the City’s store room. The Colosseum shall pay with soul. It walked up to the Little Fool handing over the geo for the first trial after resting and tweaking its charms. It placed its mark on the challenge. The pit door, closing, the gathering of great bugs roars. Today a new Fool will be crowned, debts shall be paid, and the Colosseum will know what the rage of wyrm, root, and void looks like. Hail to the voided vessel, Fools of Hallownest, and recognize the King.

[buglife]

Quirrel properly introducing Ghost as his partner to survived!Monomom? :3c

(Again no beta sorry for errors!)

“Well Quirrel, I’ll admit that this is quite lovely.”

Monomon lounged on the plush chair, decadent pillows and silken throws made it unbelievably comfortable. Colors in blues and greens decorated the snug little abode, making her think of her home in Fog Canyon. Perhaps this room was chosen for that very reason, Monomon didn’t have much love for the royal whites and opulent reds decorating most of the city. She rather liked the soothing cooler colors, it made her less antsy. She reached with a tentacle to snag another biscuit from the heavily laden tea table, the array of sandwiches and sweets already mostly eaten. Her other tentacle delicately held a cup of tea which she sipped from here and there. The room was private and out of the way, perfect to catch up a little with her son.

Her son had certainly changed, but she figured it was for the better. Before she left for the long sealing sleep, Quirrel had been depressed. He know what was to become of her and despite the palatable sadness, he still bravely soldiered on with the plan. She regrets it so much now, so much time lost due to that damnable wrym, but when she surprisingly awoke again she was glad to see that the first person she saw was him. It had been a blur of years, making up for lost time and adjusting to a much more agreeable ruler. Her little pillbug had gone from a tiny little creature, munching on trash, to a stately and powerful bug. The nail he carried at his side was forged into a pure nail, one of the few in existence. His previous kerchief had been traded out with one of silk and lovely embroidered patterns. It was the only things he accepted to show his status and it suited him nicely. This time he sat before her unburdened by scroll cases and tablet boxes, just sitting like he used to before the Infection. It was good to see him smile. It was good to see such an air of confidence and strength in him, she just wished he didn’t have to go through what he did to get it.

“I know, It’s why I picked it out.” Quirrel was leaning back in his own chair, a picture of relief she could even feel as he relaxed. After all, he is now the Royal Scholar, he is a rather busy bug these days. “It’s just, nice to have a bit of comfort and quiet away from...you know…”

“The ass kissers.” Monomon finished with a wink.

Quirrel groaned and for a moment, held his eyes in his hands as he leaned forward. “They won’t leave me alone! And they are so, so stupid! They ask me things knowing they don’t want to hear the answer I give!”

“That’s what happens when you are so close to the Sovereign.” She tutted gently as she took a sip of tea. Quirrel sighed in response.

“That could have been you, ya know. If you decided to take that position.”

“You know as well as I do, my little scholar, that it was the Sovereign who chose you for it. They basically told me that I have free reign to do as I please, as long as it somehow would benefit the kingdom. I need no titles to do the job I have always done. And you know I would certainly take the position most likely to remove nobles from my sight entirely.”

Quirrel narrowed his eyes a little as he looked at his mother. “And that is because they know that nobles will start to vanish if they had to interact with you.”

“It’s not my fault my body needs acid and nobles are notoriously clumsy.” Monomon faked indignation as she sipped more of her tea. “They also like to look in places where they shouldn’t. I did put up signs, you know. But accidents do happen.”

He couldn’t help but snort, inhaling bread crumbs and having to cough them back out. “Mother!”  She reached over a limb to pat him on the back.

“Don’t choke, love, or our Ruler will be without their Royal Scholar.” She teased gently.

“As if they’d let me die from something as indignant as choking to death on a sandwich.” He coughed up the last of the crumbs and took a deep breath.

“Are they that possessive now?” She questioned.

He sifted a little, and his antenna began to twitch. She could instantly tell he was blushing under his mask. He was trying so very hard to not cover his eyes and bury his head in his lap again.

“Quirrel.”

“Well...yes...but because well...you see….” He let out a held breath and sank lower in his chair. He was drawing his legs up, preparing to roll up just like he used to always too when terribly embarrassed.

“Quirrel.”

“The more time you spend with a bug and um...you know. Things happen and well...”

“Quirrel. Don’t roll up on me now.”

He made a pathetic squeak in response.

She was going to comment further, but there was a shifting of the door curtains and a regal horned head poked their way through. She was going to snap at whoever it was to get the fuck out and let her tease her boy some more, but then she noticed just who it was attempting to come in.

“Oh, hello, your Majesty.” She gave a polite nod. “You have caused my son no small amount of embarrassment, I’d like to know why.”

Ghost struggled with the curtains for a second, looking very undignified as they had to untangle their long pronged horns from the thick fabric. Once fully inside, they bowed to her and Quirrel. If there’s one thing she liked the best about Sovereign Ghost was that they showed respect to everyone, well, those that deserve it. They had also changed greatly since she saw them all that time ago. They were so wee, so adorable, and then they had to catch up on growing and stop being so cute. They still were, if she had to admit. They were distinct enough that they didn’t need anything like a crown or anything else, they just had their pure nail and a heavily fluffy mantled cloak. They were now about a head taller than Quirrel and she didn’t know if they would end up the huge size of their sibling, Hollow, or have finished growing. Size wasn’t everything, Princess Hornet was smaller but had NO problems beating those that challenged her into submission. It was amusing to watch.

Monomon watched as their head turned to Quirrel, tilting their head in a sign of worry.

“You’re...you’re late.” He squeaked, trying his damndest to unroll himself.

Ghost signed back in a flurry of hands. <”Sorry. I got caught up in something.”>

“So, you were supposed to be here to begin with? To what do I owe this pleasure? More gossip?” Monomon smiled, oh she just loved it when she could pick the ruler’s brain for gossip. Juicy, juicy gossip.

<”No, but later If you like. This was Quirrel’s idea.”>

“Oh really.” She leaned over to her still flustered son. “Why is that?”

“Because...because well...we…” He stuttered on his words.  “We…”

Ghost took the initiative to kneel before her, stunning both into silence. It wasn’t just the polite kneel one takes, it was full on on the floor, pressing their head into the ground In front of her.

Monomon watched in silence as they rose up from the kneel, reaching into their cloak to withdraw a bouquet of beautiful, slightly glowing flowers. The colors rippled in the light as she took the bundle.

<”Lady Monomon.”> They signed once she took the flowers from their hands. <”I ask your permission to court your son.”>

Her eyes flickered over briefly to Quirrel, he was practically swooning. She darted them back to Ghost, their ruler, a literal god of the void, fidgeting in nervousness like a teenage schoolchild as they awaited her answer. Oh this was awesome, this was great.

“So this is what this is all about.” She exclaimed, grasping the flowers to her chest in utter glee. “No wonder why you are being bothered by the nobles, my dear...you’re fucking the sovereign!”

Quirrel gasped and nearly fell off his chair. All traces and feelings of romance were now completely squashed. “MOTHER!”

Ghost just stood there, blinking.

“Your majesty, my son is his own bug. You don’t have to ask me permission to do anything with him as long as he consents to it!”

Ghost relaxed in relief.

“BUT,” She reached a tentacle outwards to poke them directly in the middle of the head.

“If you hurt him in anyway, you will die. I’m old. I don’t care if I die and drag a god down with me, but you will go down with me, I can promise.”

“MOTHER.” Quirrel twisted, trying to get to his feet as he watched her technically assault the ruler of an entire kingdom, and then threaten them.

To Quirrel’s relief, Ghost mearly nodded.

<”I accept those terms. I would rather risk death than to be apart from Quirrel. I promise he will not want for anything and if it should come to it, I would lay down my life for his.”>

Monomon clapped her tentacles together. “Wonderful! Wonderful! Now, come sit!”

Ghost eyed Quirrel, who turn shook his head. “Sorry love, but you’re trapped now. Sit, and it’ll all be over soon.”

Ghost sighed, resigned to thier fate, as they carefully sat with Quirrel. Quirrel wrapped an arm around their carapace in support, as they both looked upon the now giddy Monomon.

“Now,” She said, glee in her voice. “Tell me everything.”

[ask-impure-vessel]

Well Hollow, that’s quite the number of siblings you now have. What are their names? Have/will they named themselves or will you and your father name them? What about the rest of the kingdom knowing you and your siblings exist as your parents’ children? Sounds like the pale king and lady root have a lot of work to do.

The Pale King left the knight to sleep, heading back to the infirmary. "Where's the knight?" Quirrel asked, sounding worried.

"Resting in their quarters, they've been through quite a bit the last few days and I know that I am responsible for some of that. I appreciate you being there for my child when I could not. I cannot easily repay such a thing, especially as you seemed prepared to help them be on the run." He smiled faintly. "Am I wrong?"

"I won't confirm or deny plans to break the law, your highness." Quirrel spoke cheerfully. 

"You're quite intelligent, young scholar." The glowing monarch remarked evenly. "You wish well for my child and I appreciate that. I will not get in the way of a friendship between the two of you." He fished in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a charm. "This will grant you free passage in and out of the castle whenever you please. The amount of people who've ever gotten one of these that weren't knights can be counted on one hand." It was almost plain save for the delicate lines that formed an ornate version of the kingdom's seal, something that would be difficult to copy. He handed it to Quirrel, who was surprised to find that it was legitimately an actual charm. "We tend to reclaim these once they are no longer the sorts to seek court or if they perish from one cause or another. Charms are typically not reproducible and the few made were the closest I ever got to doing such." 

"You researched charms?" Quirrel looked surprised.

The king purred. "I research many things. Magic, charms, mechanics, engineering, botany, biology; despite being a god who wields magic, I appreciate science, it's reproducible, it's predictable, anyone can learn and do it even if some grasp it easier than others." The Pale King enthuses. "My specialty however is when science and magic intermingle. My hope is that it can be done to bring Hallownest into a new era." 

"Truly?" The scholar laughed a bit; it reminded him a bit about Monomon's absolute focus on her particular interests. She could talk for hours and made work to do just that, earning her title. A pang went through Quirrel's chest. "Madam trusts your word and judgment a great deal, your highness. To the point she was willing to ignore evidence right in front of her eyes. I do not know what to think of you or that. Or the sacrifices you made of your children." Quirrel spoke quietly.

The pale being looked up into Quirrel's eyes. "Good on you for thinking about such things. Many see my light and are dazzled. I appreciate those who see it and ask questions instead. As for, well. My progeny, I am going to do my best for the vessels left that have arrived. Just fifteen left." He touched the one who resembled Hallow closely. "You look like your sibling's ghost."

The vessel looked up at the king and grabbed his robe, feeling the fabric between fingers. "It seems the little one likes that name. Little Ghost?" Quirrel called. The vessel turned at being called. "Well, that's one name down of fifteen!" 

The king sighed and went about the more calm ones, stroking a mask or patting between horns. "It'll take time to name them all." 

He stopped by one vessel who stared vacantly ahead without moving and had been since being set there by other vessels. This one had horns very much like his own, though one in the center, rather than the four symmetrical horns visible in front. He moved their head to and fro gently to check for any obvious damage. Stroked their back, checking for their mental state with a glowing hand. He sensed… the barest of things. Not thoughts, not emotions-but melodies, the faintest of songs echoing through the child's mind instead. Taking and echoing the tones of speech into all sorts of arrangements. He sang to the child, going through the basic tones of Hallownest music. The other vessels crowded around him. He peered forward and saw the child with a particular instrument in their hands, no longer a listless presence. "Your name is Lyre." He named the vessel as music blossomed in their mind.

Names slowly followed. Along with Ghost and Lyre came Forte, Bell, Rondo, Alto, Bass, Acceso, Reed, Tempo, Sharp, Grace, Clef, Key and Allegro. The siblings had names, even if they hadn't yet decided what they would become.

Hallow had no idea what to make of finding their father bundled with those children, with each having a neat little tag under a simple painting of their heads with horn shapes on the wall. 

I admit, I wasn't expecting that. Or the paint on father's fingers. I do not think the Lady Root can leave where she is anymore. A message could be sent to her knight, Dryya to find what her state is, but I don't think it is a good idea for her to have anything to do with the smaller vessels.

[Sibling?] Ghost rose from the pile of vessels.

<Do you feel safe with our father?> Hallow asked the smaller vessel.

[I do. He made sounds for the quietest of our siblings, hearing their mind's silent song. He didn't understand but he gave our sibling more mind to think.] Ghost spoke up.

<That is good.> Hallow settled down before the pile and lay down with them to share in the affection.

They'd be covered in rambunctious siblings soon enough.

[nurgletwh]

For fluffy prompt oh gosh maybe quirrel/ghost and they break into an abandoned jewelry store and have fun trying on various things and make fun of the people who wear a lot of jewelry. Gottah have silly fun in the apocalypse lol.

All the Pretty Things

Summary: Ghost and Quirrel find a jewelry store with an odd feature, have some fun poking around in the glitter and glam, and have a talk.

Notes: This is from the Ghosts That We Knew universe, at some nebulous point in the near-ish future. xD Things get convoluted enough, and writing for this prompt definitely didn’t go anything like I expected, but also doesn’t end up going anywhere I wasn’t planning on going anyhow. This is considered (future) canon for my story.

Quirrel snorts when the crumbling passageway they were making their way through drops down and dumps them into a closet. Looking up at Ghost, he smiles and says, “It’s another closet. By my count, that makes twenty-two. Do you want to place bets on what’s going to be on the other side?”

Shaking their head, Ghost lays on their stomach and props their head on their hands as they look down at him. Of the twenty-two closets below this crumbling maintenance hallway, four of them were second closets that led into the same shop. Out of the eighteen shops so far, six were some variation on small art objects for five different themes, seven were bizarre herbal remedy/soul reading/soothsaying setups, four were shops for cloaks, capes, robes, and hats of some sort, one was furniture, and the last was bedding.

Sadly, they were too far away from the Pleasure House to take advantage of the furniture store, but they had raided the options for bedding, blankets, and pillows. Ghost was surprised at Quirrel’s creativity for how to get the pillows down to a size such that Ghost could manage to store them, but he does love his pillows. Well, he loves anything soft and squishy that he can lay in, on, or wrap around himself. Watching him surround himself with the silk they had given him makes them feel warm and happy, because he sounds so happy.

He watches them for a few more moments, then asks, “You seem lost in thought; what are you thinking about?”

They huff softly. Caught. They point at him.

“I… me?”

Ghost nods.

“Ah… well!”

They chuckle silently when this seems to fluster him. Dropping his gaze, he looks around the small closet as if it will have suddenly sprouted magical mushrooms while they talked. It seems only fair – they feel similarly when they catch him gazing at them and looking all soppy and affectionate.

The only warning they give him is a quiet snort, and they roll off the edge of the ceiling and drop beside him. He startles back with a yelp, and they snicker.

“So kind,” he grumps, but steps up beside them to rest his hand on the side of their head, gently pulling them against his hip. He caresses the base of their horn with his thumb when they wrap their arm around his leg.

With a last gentle squeeze he says, “Shall we?” and gestures at the door.

Ghost nods, and he steps forward to open the door.

They find themselves in a room of… mirrors?

Ghost turns around slowly as they walk into the room, watching thousands of reflections of themself spin slowly, followed by thousands of shocked-looking Quirrels.

There is a divan with several cushions on one side of the room, and a small dais on the other.

Quirrel quietly closes the door they just came through, which fully completes the mirror enclosure.

Ghost looks up; the ceiling is also mirrored.

What the fuck is this place?

“Uhmm…” Quirrel says intelligently. Not that they should judge, it sums up their thoughts quite nicely.

Ghost walks over to the divan and hops up onto it. It’s surprisingly comfortable, and they poke the cushions a few times before flopping over.

“Uh…”

They roll onto their side and prop their head on their hand to look at him. He seems a bit distracted.

He stares at them for a few moments before suddenly turning away. Being as there are mirrors everywhere, this in no way allows him to disguise the fact that he is getting turned on by seeing them lounging.

Ghost is confused.

Which doesn’t surprise them, as they are confused approximately 100% of the time that he is so reliably aroused by anything, particularly by them. They can’t find any logic to what titillates him, which would probably make him laugh as he tells them it’s the root of their confusion.

There are a number of things that are almost 100% guaranteed to turn him on; many of the things that he finds arousing are also things that other bugs consistently find arousing, at least as far as they have managed to pick up from reading or listening to other bugs. So, while they don’t find those things arousing for themself, his reaction isn’t necessarily surprising.

Sometimes, he just seems to be in a mood where merely existing appears to be arousing; trying to anticipate what he will find alluring on those days is impossible. That hadn’t been his mood today, at least so far.

A room full of mirrors with a divan… wasn’t on their mental list of things that might possibly float his boat. It’s weird.

He rapidly figures out the folly of having turned away, and sighs as he crosses his arms across his belly, meeting their gaze – one of their gazes anyhow – in the mirror.

They tilt their head, hoping he will explain.

Quirrel groans softly, glancing up. He goes absolutely still when he sees the mirrors on the ceiling. After a moment, they hear him swallow, and he whimpers slightly.

“Ghost…” he says, his voice sounding mildly strangled.

They sit up and hop down, walking over to stand beside him. He doesn’t look down, but seems to be tracking their movement using the mirror on the ceiling, so they look up. He whimpers again when they meet his gaze.

They watch him for a few more moments, then take pity. They are absolutely not interested at the moment, so they shake their head and drop their gaze. Reaching up, they grab one of his hands and step closer, kissing his palm. Looking back up at the ceiling they once again meet his gaze, and press another kiss into his palm as he moans softly. Huffing quietly, they press their tongue against the base of his thumb before kissing his hand again.

Stepping away, they squeeze his hand gently between both of theirs. When he looks down they sign, “I go see what out front. You go feel happy, come out after. Ok?”

He shakes his head and starts to say something, but apparently makes the mistake of glancing at the divan, and groans.

Glancing back, they sure hope it isn’t the divan that’s arousing. Although it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing they’ve heard of, they suppose. Shaking their head, they pat his thigh and then abandon him to his fate with the divan.

- - -

The front of the store appears to be a jewelry shop. It still doesn’t explain the mirrored room, at least not to the extent of having that many mirrors. That room would have made far more sense in the shops that sold capes and cloaks, but those had just had a few curtained off areas with one of those tri-fold mirrors in each. One of the shops actually had small rooms instead of curtains, but the rooms were still outfitted with the standing tri-fold mirrors and not… that.

Poking through the drawers behind the counters, Ghost hopes Quirrel is willing to explain. They aren’t completely sure they will want the explanation, but if he’s going to randomly be so completely and utterly floored by furniture, they figure they need to know about it. Maybe it’s the mirrors? They know some bugs like watching other bugs get it on. Maybe it also applies to watching oneself have sex?

They shake their head. Sex and arousal are confusing as fuck. Having had sex a few times now hasn’t opened up any vast depths of understanding, nor have they suddenly been graced with unassisted arousal. They hadn’t actually expected that to happen, but had occasionally heard some pushy bug or another claim they could do that kind of thing. Quirrel’s only comment on the subject had been that sex was different than masturbation, and that they may or may not find the experience more pleasurable, but that he would be surprised if it changed their overall drive, even if the novelty of it all temporarily boosted it.

That conversation had happened a week or so before they had actually gotten around to having sex, but a day or two after they had tried to initiate when they had been so desperate to avoid thinking about the whole mess that was the other Vessel and that fight.

In retrospect, they are glad he stopped them that time and made them think it through.

The drawers are full of a variety of chains for necklaces, and things one would hang on a necklace. The contents look like they are duplicates of several of the items on display, which makes sense. They pull out one of the chains and drape it across their hand. The metal links are fine, and flattened somehow. It doesn’t fold over the way they would have expected, instead curving into an arc, and then stopping.

Fascinated, they push on it gently. Their experience with jewelry and other luxury items is limited. They don’t need things like food or water, and have gone without for years from time to time. It’s boring to not eat or drink, but it certainly makes running away and hiding far easier. When they need to hole up, they can literally hole up. But it also means that they haven’t gone shopping for much of anything beyond paper, ink, and journals.

Holding the chain up, they watch the light reflect off of it as it swings. It’s pretty, and they drape it across the back of their hand again. They like pretty things, similarly to how Quirrel enjoys comfortable things. Ghost is certain they would like comfortable things as well, if falling asleep on them didn’t tend to result in them attacking and ‘killing’ the pillows or blankets.

This on the other hand… Ghost pulls the chain across the back of their hand, feeling the metal slither across. This is pretty and it feels nice. It isn’t something that they would be sleeping in, just something they would wear. Like Quirrel wears his mask.

They fiddle with the clasp until they figure it out, then put it on. They sigh when it dangles down to their crotch. Being small is fucking annoying sometimes.

Leaving it on, they lean over and start digging through the drawer of chains, trying to see if there is a pattern to the storage and – more importantly – a much shorter chain.

By the time they find one that only dangles down to the middle of their chest, they have bedecked themself in six other chains. Huffing, they step back. The flattened shape of the chains mean they don’t jingle the way they expected, although they can’t see how they look with all of the chains on.

Likely ridiculous, but they need a mirror to confirm that. Quirrel has usually been quite flustered if they interrupt his current pursuit, so they should probably be polite and find a different mirror.

Ghost discovers an additional problem when they start trying to walk around and find another mirror – the slope of their shoulders means that the various necklaces keep slipping down, refusing to stay put. They’ve currently draped them over the top of their cloak, but Ghost is certain that shifting the chains under it instead wouldn’t help anything. Sighing, they stand there and fiddle with one of the necklaces, running the flat chain over the back of their hand, then through their fingers. Deciding that they want to see how silly they look more than they want to not feel foolish, they lift their hands up and walk around the room until they find a mirror.

Standing in front of it with their arms in the air, they snicker. They definitely look absurd this way. They drop their arms to their sides, and their cloak falls back into place.

While a bit less absurd, wearing seven necklaces of lengths varying from short enough to fall to the middle of their chest to the one that is dangling just below their knees is definitely not dignified. They giggle as they run their hands along one of the chains again.

Hearing a door open, Ghost turns to see Quirrel emerge from the room of mirrors. They snort as he glances away; this has to be the first time they’ve ever seen him act embarrassed by anything regarding sex. They know they regularly catch him off guard, and often fluster him, but he hasn’t ever seemed genuinely embarrassed before

Either their snort or the chains catch his attention because he immediately looks back and then just stares at them. Well, they can give him something to giggle about. Having him acting awkward about sex is upsetting, and is not something they ever expected to see. They don’t want to ever see it again, either.

Sticking their hands back up in the air, they walk over to him as he continues to stare at them, speechless.

When they stop in front of him, he finally manages to utter, “Uhmm…”

That again? Maybe they are magic mirrors, and steal brains?

Ghost puts their hands on their hips and glare up at him.

He shakes his head but doesn’t say anything, choosing to look around the store first. Looking back down at Ghost, he asks, “I take it we found a jewelry store?”

Ghost nods.

He continues to stand there, hand on the door handle, staring at them.

Ghost sighs.

“You sit down, please? You upset, I not understand why. I want to understand, please tell?” they sign.

Quirrel sighs.

Turning, he pulls the door to the apparently brain-stealing mirror room closed.

They dig the pad out while he closes the door, moving slightly to the side so he can lean against the wall instead of the door when he sits. They don’t know the range of the mirrors’ effect.

He continues to stand there facing the door once he’s closed it, eventually resting his head against the door. He finally sighs again, turning back around and then sitting in front of them. He takes the pad when they hand it to him, draping it across his chest and belly, and they step into his lap and wrap their arms around his neck, nestling their face into the side of his head and rubbing against his kerchief.

He huffs quietly as he wraps his arms around them, pulling them in for a tight hug. They work one of their hands up under his kerchief, massaging the back of his head as he finally relaxes. They kiss him through the kerchief, then the side of his face as they pull back. They can’t kiss his cheek while his mask is on, so they rest their hands there and press their forehead against his mask.

Quirrel chuckles softly as he cups their head in his hands, his fingers brushing the back of their head.

“Abandoning me to my own devices didn’t upset you at all, did it,” he murmurs.

Ghost huffs and shakes their head. They aren’t sure why he thinks it would, but are aware enough to know it frequently bothers bugs. However, expecting him to adjust his libido to match theirs is just as realistic as trying to go the other way. He might not explode, but he’d likely feel like he was going to. For them to say no and then try and make him feel guilty for handling things himself would be manipulative.

He gently pushes their chin up and ducks in to kiss them, humming softly as he brushes his fingers along the back of their head. When he finishes, he presses his forehead against theirs again as he says, “I love you.”

They trace their thumbs along his cheekpads and press against him, then kiss the middle of his mask as they pull back to sign, “I love you, too.”

Quirrel trails his fingers down the side of their face as he sits back, smiling as he looks at the necklaces again. He meets their gaze as he tangles his fingers into the longest of the chains, saying, “You look preposterous in all of these, you realize.”

Ghost snorts and pulls their arms out from under their cloak to wrap them around all the necklaces, shaking their head firmly.

He laughs. “You’ll trip! You have to hold your hands up to keep them from falling down!!”

Giddy that he’s laughing, they bounce back and attempt to flap away, only to discover that having all of the chains on top of their cloak prevents it from transforming into the wings – or at any rate prevents it from lifting up and flapping. They crash to the ground on their back and stare at the ceiling, slightly dazed.

They hear Quirrel snicker, and his face appears above theirs, grinning brightly. “See?”

They flip him off, and he sits back, laughing. He reaches forward and wiggles his hand under their head, and they huff as he helps them sit back up.

Pushing to their feet, they choose to wrap their arms around the necklaces again and go back over to the mirror. Yes, they look silly as fuck, but… but. They hadn’t ever wandered into a store like this and poked around to see what they might look like if they wore something different. They might be stuck with the cloak, but…

Sighing, they start fiddling with one of the chains again, running it across their hand as they watch it in the mirror. They huff quietly, and trace the chain to find the clasp, starting to open it. They jump when Quirrel closes his hand over theirs; they hadn’t even noticed him move. He’s sitting beside them, and smiles when they meet his gaze. He gently tugs their hands away from the clasp.

“Have you ever had the chance to put anything like this on, wear jewelry or decorative wear?” he asks softly.

They retrieve one of their hands and wobble it, then turn to look in the mirror again. The few times that they may have had the opportunity – that they recall – they felt far too self-conscious about it. It would have meant letting someone know their cloak wasn’t something they could take off, and at some point they decided that if they couldn’t remove their cloak, it meant there wasn’t any point in trying to wear something different.

Ghost touches the necklaces again, feeling the smoothness of the links, looking at the colors against their cloak. They think they recognize the gold ones as… well, as gold. But there are two silvers, one that’s bright with a slight trace of blue, and one that’s softer, yet still just as bright, but has a slight trace of pink instead of blue. The gold and the slightly blue silver both look nice against their cloak. The slightly pink silver also looks nice, but the other two look better.

Quirrel asks, “Do you know what the metals are?”

They shake their head.

“Would you like me to tell you?”

Ghost turns to look at him and nods.

“I’m sorry I teased,” he says softly.

They snort and shake their head. “You not worry, I not upset. I know I look silly, it ok I look silly. I…” They turn back to the mirror, touch the necklaces again. “I not see before, not try before. I see now, I feel… I not know I feel. Unsure.”

They watch themself in the mirror as Quirrel leans over and softly kisses their horn. It feels different, watching. Seeing him kiss them, not just feeling it. They aren’t sure how that makes them feel either. It’s both surreal and more real. He hums softly, kissing them again before sidling over to sit closer, moving so they are standing where he can loosely fold his leg in front of them but still be off to one side, his other leg – the one he usually keeps more upright – behind them.

Lifting the gold one, he says, “I expect you know this one. It’s gold, or at least mostly gold. It gets complicated, but gold is soft enough that for a longer chain like this, one that’s also thicker, pure gold is often not the best choice.” He laughs softly. “It wasn’t something the aristocrats liked to hear, of course.”

They can feel his knee brushing their cloak near the small of their back, and watch him as he sits casually folded around them. Can see, for the first time, what they look like as a couple. How other bugs might see them; as lovers, maybe more.

He lifts the slightly pink silver one next. “This is platinum, which is rarer than gold but has the unfortunate characteristic of looking an awful lot like silver, and not being obvious that it’s more valuable, so the nobles didn’t tend to bedeck themselves with it. It’s also a fairly soft metal.”

Maybe more? They hadn’t thought about it before Ogrim had brought it up, and the idea had shot straight through their likely non-existent heart, short-circuiting their void-displaced brain. Perhaps it had been self-defense, their subconscious refusing to look at something they had always believed they could never have. Because now, now… oh, how they want the more. It doesn’t make sense in this ruin of a kingdom. There’s no legal benefit, and the gods have abandoned it. There are only a dozen or so bugs here who would possibly ever know.

Pausing, he leans in and brushes a kiss against the base of their horn again, turning to look at them in the mirror as he leans his head against theirs. Their chest seizes up as he smiles at them, wrapping his arm around them. He looks happy, he’s holding them and he’s happy. He’s with them, and he’s happy to be with them.

And they want; want to call him their spouse, to call him their husband. To be called his spouse in return.

Gasping, they turn and grab him in a tight hug, shuddering.

Maybe mirrors have a magic to them after all.

“Ghost? Are you ok?”

They nod firmly; he sounds worried. They didn’t mean to worry him, they are just… overwhelmed. Love is far more overwhelming than they had realized.

“Alright,” he whispers, pressing them against him and tucking his chin over their shoulder, hugging them firmly and then holding them.

- - -

Quirrel finishes up his explanation of the various metals and short tidbits of information about their properties, and helps them remove all but the shortest of the necklaces – which happens to be silver. Ghost promptly puts the ones they removed around Quirrel’s neck as he laughs. They certainly fit his body better, although the longest one might get caught somewhere inconvenient if he’s wearing it and gets aroused again.

They continue to poke around the store, looking at the assorted styles and ways to adorn a bug’s body. There are plenty of pins and brooches for those bugs who choose to wear clothing or cloaks, and Quirrel helps them choose a few to try on. He starts laughing when they decide to see how many they can put on, and shakes his head as he sits down to help.

Ghost definitely clinks now, and the monarch wings refuse to even try to transform. Laughing, they stand in front of the mirror and turn around. They almost glance back to the other room, but Quirrel still seems to feel mildly guilty. They don’t like that fact – they want to poke their nail into whoever said no to him, but then told him no for himself as well.

Maybe there’s another room that has more… normal mirrors for seeing behind yourself? There’s a door on the other end of the counter that neither of them have opened. Which… Ghost turns back and faces the door where the mirror room exists, finally realizing that it’s not exactly an obvious door. In fact, if they didn’t know it was a door, they probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all.

Interesting…

They shake their head and then take off for the other door. Quirrel looks up and smiles at them as they pass him where he is browsing some of the various rings and bracelets, and they wave back.

Opening the door, they find a short hall with a couple of alcoves that ends in another door. Unlike the stores for capes, cloaks, and whatnot, these alcoves don’t have privacy curtains, but they do have a couple of chairs and small versions of the tri-fold mirrors. Which makes sense, they suppose. One generally wouldn’t bedeck themself with fifty or so brooches and want to see what that looked like. They snicker again as they poke into the other alcoves.

The alcove at the very end of the hall has one of the taller floor-style tri-fold mirrors – so, maybe someone would want to do that. Happy, they step into the alcove and position the mirror so they can see all the way around themself.

It’s something else they hadn’t done often, look at their backside. Not that it’s generally exciting, except for when it contains thirty or so of the fifty or so brooches and pins they have all over themself. They bounce, and watch as everything shifts around and clinks. They bounce again, and hear a soft chuckle as Quirrel walks down the hallway. They look up at him as he smiles down at them and steps into the alcove. He’s still wearing the five necklaces that had fit him, although he has added some pendants to a couple of them. His hands are full of rings and bracelets, his body language full of mischief.

He sits down beside them and dumps what he is carrying beside him. Shifting to be next to them again, he snickers and leans in to kiss them, and they huff. Turning to kiss him back, they ignore the magic the mirror is trying to tell them to focus on the magic in front of them.

Quirrel hums as he caresses the side of their face, fingers curling around their horn as his thumb rubs along their cheek. They run their hands along his cheeks, start to brush them along his mandibles before stopping and cupping them under his chin instead.

He briefly deepens the kiss before sitting back with another hum, trailing his fingers along the side of their jaw as he smiles at them. Huffing softly, they capture his fingers as his hand drops, pulling it back to kiss his knuckles and then press it against their chest.

He ducks back in to kiss their cheek, and gives them another smile as he sits up. Turning to his pile, he starts shuffling things around before looking at them in the mirror.

“Are you ready to look truly ridiculous?” he says with a grin.

They laugh as they nod.

“I don’t think they had rings small enough to fit your fingers—” Ghost glances up briefly as they shake their head, and he chuckles “—but some of these might actually work as bracelets or anklets, depending on how your body shifts.”

Ghost cocks their head as he holds one of the larger rings out, then shrugs and holds a hand forward. He grins and they slip their hand through it, and he laughs as it is blatantly too large.

They snort and look at him as they sign, “I small! You silly, you forget.”

Shaking his head he says, “It’s not easy to forget, love, but more a matter of I don’t think about it much any longer.”

He sets the ring aside and goes back to pushing through his little stash, and they fiddle with the edge of their cloak, slightly embarrassed.

“Not many bugs can actually wear rings,” he rambles on. “Even I have some difficulties with it, despite having fingers. To wear a ring, most bugs need it to have little prongs to hold it in place, and the ring needs to have a latch rather than just slipping on and off.”

Turning to face them, he holds one of the rings up to show them what he means. “I don’t think you would find it particularly comfortable, though.”

Ghost shakes their head, but takes the ring to look at it as he goes back to the pile.

“Other rings would be glued in place, and the bug would need to have a solvent that would work for that particular glue to get it back off. Some rings actually had a rubber backing and would either slip on or had a clasp and would clamp into place.” He turns to face them again, showing them a different ring that he opens. “This should be far less uncomfortable,” he says with a smile, and they hold their arm out again, holding the other ring beside them.

He clamps it on, and it’s still slightly big but not by much. Unless they tuck their hand in, it wouldn’t come off. Huffing, they look down at it. It’s wider than several of the others, intricately braided fine wires of gold that have been set onto a solid backing of… they think it’s platinum. It has several small emeralds worked between the braiding. It’s gorgeous.

They look back to the mirror, and huff. Set against what they’ve done with their cloak, it does indeed look absurd, but like the necklace they are still wearing, they think they might keep this one. It spans from their wrist to the middle of their forearm, but it’s light and doesn’t seem like it would get in the way. Stepping closer to the mirror, they hold their arm up and look.

Quirrel shakes his head and holds his hand out to them. “I think I have a better idea,” he says quietly. They turn to face him again. “I think you are perfectly content to figure out how ridiculous you can be, but I also think you’ve discovered you like pretty things,” he says with a smile.

They’d known they like pretty things, they just hadn’t put that thought together with the idea of liking jewelry. They glance back at the mirror, and see he is still holding his hand out to them. They turn back and take it with a sigh. He tugs them over to where he is sitting, leaning his forehead against theirs. Ghost drops the ring they are holding and puts their hands on his cheeks, gently rubbing their thumbs under his eyes.

Pulling his face to angle it better, they kiss him. He hums and rests his hand on the back of their cloak, chuckling as his fingers catch on all the brooches.

Sitting back he asks, “Do you want to take these off and see which ones you may actually want to keep?”

Ghost snorts, then nods and turns around to have him start removing the ones from the back as they get to work unpinning the ones they can reach.

- - -

They’ve both selected several items to keep. Ghost is still wearing the necklace, and the ring/bracelet Quirrel had put on them earlier. He’s down to one silver necklace with a sapphire pendant, although he chose a couple of others with different chain styles as well.

The pendant has a thin band of finely braided silver filigree around the edges of a deep blue sapphire. There are a couple of small purple sapphires embedded into the filigree, as well as a few tiny diamonds Quirrel called ‘seed’ diamonds. Ghost had run across it tucked in the back of a drawer, and when they saw it they thought it would match his shell nicely, as well as the blue silk they still wish they knew how to use to make a cape or robe. Unlike some of the other pendants they have handed him, he cooed softly and immediately pulled the necklace off to string this pendant, putting it back on and finding a mirror. He still touches it every once in a while, and it makes them feel warm.

Ghost is now standing in front of what they finally recognize is a variety of engagement and marriage identifiers. They’ve seen a wide variety of them as they wandered, and while this array doesn’t have quite the extreme range, it is varied enough that they hadn’t picked up on what this corner of the store was until a few minutes ago. Quirrel joins them, looking at the assortment.

As far as Ghost can tell, almost all of the options are for monogamous marriages. They know it’s quite common for polygamous unions to simply use the more common identifiers and just stack them up, but know that isn’t always true.

Quirrel huffs a quiet laugh and steps forward, picking up a small dual-banded bracelet. The two bands are held together by small, twisted loops, although they must be attached somehow because they don’t move.

He stands there and looks at it for long enough that they touch his leg, curious why it’s holding his attention.

Glancing down at them, he shakes his head and starts to put it back. “It’s not…”

Stopping, he sighs. “These are the marriage bands my parents wore,” he murmurs. Glancing at the shelves for a moment, he leans forward and picks up a tray that is displaying several small bead-like items.

He sits down slightly behind them, pressing a kiss against the base of their horn before tucking them into his arms and resting his head against theirs. If they had wider shoulders, his chin would be on them.

“They didn’t specifically wear these bands; these are new,” he says quietly. “But this is the style that was used within our community in general, as well as some others. The self-pin and four twisted circles hold the two bands together and divide the circlet into five general relationships. The two bands represent life and death.” He leans against them briefly, then turns to kiss their cheek before continuing. “This pin here is the clasp, and represents the person wearing the bands. Depending on who you asked it could simply be the easiest place to mark the top of the circle, or a representation that the person is an important part of the whole family, and something is missing when you pull that person out of the circle.”

He huffs quietly. “Before I left, I was one of those that figured it was just a convenient starting point. But I think I’ve changed my mind. It’s a starting point, but also required to hold a family together.”

His fingers run around the circlet, pulling out the pin and opening it before closing it again. “The top band represents the living family, although it is usually limited to parents and children. Some families would expand it and add a third circlet, representing grandchildren.” He holds it up, with the clasp at the top. “The top of the self-pin is slightly different than the bottom, so you know which of the two circlets represents life. Those outside the community often found the inclusion of those who have died morbid, but it wasn’t. Anyone who was a part of the family has affected it, and continues to affect it even after they are gone. Trying to hide that fact doesn’t change the truth of it. It’s why even if someone left a family group for other reasons, their marker was usually modified but not removed.”

Quirrel turns and kisses their horn, pressing his forehead against it after. He’s trembling slightly, so they turn to lean into him, hooking their arm over his shoulder and working their hand under his kerchief to caress the back of his head.

He takes a shaky breath before kissing them again, looking back at the circlet he is holding.

“There are two main divisions, partners and children,” he says. “There are five overall divisions, represented by the self-pin and the four twined circles holding the two bands together. Partners are divided at the self-pin, one section to each side. The one to the left as you face it from the top represents what most bugs would traditionally recognize as ‘spouses,’ and the one on the right is usually described as ‘siblings.’”

He chuckles softly. “They are all your partners, your spouses. Bugs you choose to share your life with, love. Sometimes you share your life with bugs you are romantically involved with, sometimes you share your life just as intimately but not romantically. Sometimes your true, related siblings are part of that family. Sometimes, your partners bring in a someone you aren’t so involved with, but they are still a part of the family. Sometimes the markers move back and forth between the two sides.” He laughs as he says, “Papa said that was to keep everyone guessing.”

Quirrel nuzzles their cheek. “The bottom three sections represent any children.” He chuckles again. “Or for those you regard as your responsibility, including pets. Not all families want or can have children.” He hums softly. “Any children in a family are the children of all partners. The divisions are mostly so that the genetics can be kept untangled within the community, which is particularly important if partners change.” He taps the bottom left division of the circlet and says, “The leftmost of the three is for children genetically related to any of the partners on the left-hand side of the self-pin. The middle section is for children genetically related to the person wearing the band. The rightmost division is for children that have no direct genetic relation to the person wearing the band.”

He falls silent, flipping it over in his hands a few times.

Turning it so they are looking at it edge-on he says, “This one has the death band made from a different material than the life band. Not all of them were that way; it was a fairly even mix, even within a family group. If someone died, their marker was moved from the life band over to the death band.”

Quirrel picks up the tray he had grabbed before sitting. “These are one style of markers, or beads. Currently blank, they would be marked somehow to make them unique for the bug they represent. Usually it was a part of their name, sometimes it was more creative. How they are attached to the band varied wildly; it looks like these have a little clasp so you can shift them around.”

He sighs. “This one is obviously meant to be a bracelet of some sort. There are as many ways to interpret the general symbology as there are bugs to think it up. Generally you wouldn’t find a ring trying to represent this style, as it would be too large. But pendants for necklaces were common, as were the bracelets.”

He looks at the bracelet for a while before setting it into the tray with the beads. He pulls them against him, turning them so he can tuck his chin over their shoulder. His breath catches, then he shakes his head slightly and sighs as he shudders.

Ghost wraps their arms around his neck and hold him tight. They wonder… no, they don’t. They know that if they turned around and chose one of the circlets or pendants and gave it to him, he would accept it with joy. They just don’t know if there should be more to it than that. They doubt they could get him distracted long enough for them to seriously peruse the options and choose something to give him later. The circlet he’s been using to tell them what things mean is obviously far too large for either of them, although Ghost could possibly wear it around their waist. They’d need suspenders to keep it in place.

Huffing at the mental image, they turn their head to kiss the side of Quirrel’s face and then step away to pick up the circlet. They poke at it, looking at the self-pin before pulling it out and spreading the bracelet apart. It isn’t hinged, and without the pin holding it together it’s definitely flimsy. Once the pin is in place, however, the whole thing becomes far sturdier. Holding it, they decide they like the symbology it represents.

They glance up at the wide variety of selections in this corner. They doubt very many of them reflect this particular kind of relationship. Most of them seem to be for the two bug partnership type. Ghost looks at the bracelet again, leaning back against Quirrel. They hadn’t ever even thought about being in a relationship, much less a larger one. Quirrel obviously grew up in such a family, and listening to him talk about his partners they know he relishes the idea of a large family.

They aren’t sure why he hadn’t been married before he left, although they think it’s for the best. They can’t begin to imagine how much worse it would be for him to have come back and learn he had walked away from partners, possibly children.

Ghost steps back forward and picks up one of the little marker beads, fiddling with the clasp to see how they open. If they give him one of these, it means that if they survive, they are accepting the possibility of having more partners – platonic or otherwise. That Quirrel would have other partners, although they are certain it’s far more complex than him showing up one day with someone else in tow.

Do they know how they feel about that?

Probably not, but they feel a warm happy glow at the idea of a larger family. They certainly don’t have an aversion to the idea of Quirrel being with someone else as well as them, even if they aren’t exactly excited about it.

Clamping the little bead into place, they figure that neutral is probably an acceptable place to start from. They can see their future opinion on the matter being highly dependent on whoever the future theoretical additional partner is.

Ghost looks at Quirrel, sees that his gaze is locked onto their hands where they have been investigating the bead and idly turning the bracelet around and around. They falter a little, unsure of what that focus means. His eyes snap to theirs when they stop turning the bracelet, his breathing slightly uneven. They shift so that they are facing him, and hesitate. They don’t have the right signs, but the thought of using the slate for this feels wrong.

Taking a deep breath they don’t need, they see Quirrel tense up but force himself to relax. They force themself to ignore it, and slip the circlet onto their arm for now so that they can sign.

“I love you.”

Quirrel smiles and touches their face, thumb brushing along their cheek. His fingers are trembling. “I love you, too.” he says softly.

“I want you. I not know how to tell you, I not know if there a way to say, a way to ask. I also not know right signs.”

Ghost hesitates as Quirrel goes absolutely still, relaxes slightly when they see a tear form. “I want to have a home with you. I want you to have a home with me.”

Quirrel seems to have stopped breathing, his gaze fixing on their face as they pull the circlet off of their arm. Knowing it isn’t the one they actually want to give him, they simply hold it up between them, lifting it up far enough that he can see it without glancing down.

Gasping as he shudders, he shakes his head slightly as he grabs the sides of their head and pulls them forward to press his forehead against theirs. Breath heaving, he starts to say something but gets stuck. Uncertain, they hook the circlet back over their arm and then put their hands on his cheeks. They’d been certain of his answer, but now they are starting to get nervous.

He shudders again as he inhales deeply, forcing the breath out slowly as he grips their head. His hands are trembling. He takes another deep breath and exhales slowly. Unsure, they start tracing their thumbs along the edges of his cheekpads. It’s not like they can take back what they said. They don’t want to either.

“There are traditional words and phrases,” he says, voice shaky. “I like yours better.” He laughs breathily, squeezes again. “Ghost… I…” He puffs another breathy laugh. “Although the problem with you choosing your own words means I have to figure out my own words. Ghost, yes, you are my home, my heart, my everything. I want nothing more than to be your home. Yes.”

Ghost huffs, stunned. They probably shouldn’t be, although their thoughts are all scattered.

Quirrel pulls them forward and wraps his arms around them with a laugh, squeezing tight as he rocks back and lifts them off their feet. He laughs again as he clasps his hand against the back of their head, holding them against his shoulder, and they wrap their arms around his neck and hug him back.

“Ghost! Oh gods, my love! You are an eternal source of surprise, but I have to wonder, do you surprise yourself as well?”

They snort. He knows that answer, knows that this was semi-impulsive.

Ghost wonders how much longer he’d have waited before he asked them. They are fairly certain he’s flinched away from asking at least twice in the last week or so.

But they nod, because they know it will make him laugh, and they love it when he laughs.

And Quirrel does laugh, tipping over sideways and laying them on the floor, his arm behind their shoulders as he rests on his elbow and looks down at them. Laughing with him, they reach up and pull his mask off, and he takes it from them to set it aside, humming as they start to work at the knot of his kerchief. As it falls to the side, his antennae swing around and start pattering along their horns as he leans back in to kiss them, humming as he smiles.

They don’t go any further in their explorations, setting up camp for the night in the store.

But not in the room with the mirrors.

End Notes: This will be incorporated into the main work at the appropriate time, which I will do my level best to make happen soon. I have been trying to figure out how to get these events to happen, but hadn’t managed to come up with an appropriate lead-in for the story. The prompt I received allowed me to find that scenario! Now I just need to get them back to the City of Tears for a day as an excuse to link this in. xD

Hopefully the fact that this doesn't quite match the parameters of the prompt is acceptable!

[bugbeee]

Pyrrhic for Pale King or rubatosis for Nightmare King Grimm? Hireaeth for Hornet or liberosis for Hollow/Pure Vessel? Morituro for Ghost or scrosciare for Quirrel or Lemm? So many of these prompts are so good for Hollow Knight--I can't make up my mind which ones I like the most. Feel free to do however many you feel up to--don't feel pressure to do every single one. Pick and chose!

Cookie, you are the light of my life and I adore you. I hope you enjoy these! Prompt list from here!

Pyrrhic (won at too great a cost):

Sitting on his throne, the Pale King wondered if he should be happy. They had won. He had won. The Radiance was sealed, and the infection would no longer plague Hallownest. And yet, the roiling in his stomach would not cease. Abruptly, he stood up, unable to keep himself still any longer. The palace halls were silent save for the swish of his robes. His daughter had been sent to train with Vespa a scant few cycles ago, and Root...

Well. Root had left long ago.

Only his retainers remained, and even they grew quieter and quieter with each passing day.

Despite the sealing, he knew that something uneasy continued to lurk within his kingdom. In the end, he truly was a blind fool, despite his foresight. He had seen it when he first saw the Pure- the Hollow Knight before him, and he had seen it again as he sent it to fulfill their duty.

No cost too great, he had said. And yet, he could not stop himself from weighing the innumerable sacrifices he made for... for nothing. Root had left a scant few cycles before the Knight’s sealing, though she had confided in him that it was not because of love for her hollow child. After such a harrowing experience, she needed to retreat. She would return soon, she said.

Wyrm didn’t need his foresight to know that was not true.

The Gendered Child had been sent away for her own safety, and for his own sanity. She raged with the loss of her mother, and after the attempt on her life, she could not sleep without being plagued by nightmares. He knew that the palace was unhealthy for her, that every waking moment was torture-

So he sent her away. Despite the betrayal on her face as he did so. Despite her screams of abandonment.

But he had to. He had to, because the assassin brought rumours of an orange plague, because bugs were acting strangely and mentioning dreams of gold, because-

He had already failed once as a father. He would not give her a parent she didn’t deserve. Not when she already had the love of her mother and step-mother.

Unable to keep walking, Wyrm collapsed to the floor, burying his face in his hands.

This was meant to be victory, he thought bitterly. So why did it feel so much like loss?

Morituro (someone who is destined to die):

Elderbug had been the only resident of Dirtmouth for a long time now. He had seen travellers come and go, always waiting for a familiar face to pop back up and return. Hoping, that perhaps one of them would stay. But no. His town remained empty, and had done so ever since the cloud of sickly sweet rot and sickness had risen from the well on the outskirts of town, luring bugs in with enticing promises of riches and glory. He had never seen the city below that travellers spoke about with such fervent excitement, never felt the own tug of wanderlust pulling him down into the depths of the forgotten kingdom.

No, he was always happier at his home, welcoming those who came by, and hoping that perhaps this time, one of them would stay. Once upon a time, his town had been filled quiet contentment, bugs living in comfort and harmony. It had been a happier time, even with the quiet whispers of Hallownest’s fall. But the days of life within his village had been long gone, and soon enough, he was the only one remaining, waiting in vain for someone, anyone to return and stay. While he enjoyed the quiet, he preferred to spend it with another person. The loneliness and isolation that had spread across his village like an infection had changed that quiet into an empty silence.

And yet... that had slowly begun to change, all thanks to his small masked friend. They had introduced new bugs into his town, had rekindled the flickering life of Dirtmouth, had given him new hope. Shops began to reopen, people moved back in, and he was no longer alone. There was still the gentle quietness of his town, but no pervasive silence that gripped his very carapace. Just for that, Elderbug owned them a debt, yet they never asked for anything in return, instead being content to simply sit on the bench beside him and bask in each other’s’ presence. His fondness for the childlike bug was not unlike that of a grandfather, and he could not help the soft affection that rose within him whenever they returned.

Despite the stench below, despite the dead kingdom beneath his feet, Elderbug was content again. His town was full, gentle life having drifted back in with the appearance of his friend. He wondered when they would cease their wanderings in the caverns below, and finally join them all above. He would not keep them from exploring, but their increased disappearances made him worry all the same. He hoped that soon, soon they would settle down. Was a quiet life not enough? Was being surrounded by friendly bugs not an adventure in itself?

But it was not his place to give voice to these thoughts, not when his friend was so eager to travel. He gave a soft sigh, watching the gentle lights sway in the quiet breeze, eyes flicking between the well and the Stag Station. And then, finally, the door of the Station opened, and out hopped the little traveler, something small clutched within their claws. Relief and joy warmed Elderbug’s heart, and he eagerly welcomed them to the bench.

“Hello, my friend. It is good to see you in good health. I admit, I grew worried when I heard the screeching from below, but seeing you whole is reassuring,” he said softly as they approached him.

His eyes fell upon the delicate flower in their hands, and Elderbug blinked in surprise.

“Hm? What a beautiful flower!” he exclaimed. “Why are you carrying around such an exquisite bloom?”

They looked at him, eyes unreadable as ever, but there was a quiet sadness in their posture, lit up with the slightest hint of affection as they reached out to offer him the bloom. Elderbug choked at the gesture, tears springing to his eyes as he took the flower with trembling claws.

“Thank you, my friend. Suddenly, the world seems a little less faded. I will take care of this flower while you are gone, so we can enjoy it together when you return,” he said hoarsely, so touched by the gesture that he missed the hint of sorrow and regret within his friend. The little one carefully sat down in their usual spot, shuffling slightly as they became comfortable.

Elderbug smiled softly at them, and took up his usual position beside them, basking in their quiet presence, but they patted the bench.

“Oh? Do you wish for me to sit with you? I am quite happy standing, especially if you wish to rest after such an adventure,” he explained, but they shook their head, and patted the bench again.

“Very well, my friend. I would be happy to sit by your side.”

He let his old, weary body sit beside them, the cold metal a comforting balm on his aching limbs. They rested together until Elderbug could feel his strength returning to him and his friend’s slumped body straightened. They turned to look at him, tilting their head at the flower tucked close to his arm, empty eyes seemingly cataloguing every piece of him.

He chuckled softly at their examination, and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped as his friend placed a claw over his. It was a fleeting gesture, yet comforting all the same, and Elderbug was reminded of a child grasping onto someone close for a shred of reassurance. They leapt off the bench before he could respond; only turning to look at him once as they headed towards the well. His friend lifted their hand in a small wave, and he could not help but think they looked so sad as they did so.

As though it was a final farewell.

“Next time,” he muttered, despite the hollow stone sat in his chest. “Next time I’ll ask them to stay.”

(Perhaps, had he known, he would have clung harder.)

Scrosciare (rain pouring down or waves hitting rocks):

Quirrel stared out beyond the lake, the soft crash of water against rocks echoing within his emptied mind. His tired eyes caught on the shimmering waves illuminated by the distant glow of lingering lumaflies. How strange to think that after all these years he would be in Hallownest again. His departure had been abrupt, spurred on his Madam’s eternal slumber. One end began there, and today, it would finally reach its conclusion. Even now, his memories were disjointed, caught on fragments of confusion and fog, but she still shone like a beacon in his mind, a gentle light guiding him within the tangled memories. If she were still here, she would disapprove of his plan, he thought. But she was not here.

She had been gone for a long time.

The soft patter of footsteps broke his musings, and he tilted his head towards his little friend, though his eyes never left the blue shore. It warmed him to know that despite the slow, stumbling death of Hallownest, he had still made a friend, and a dear one at that. Their silent presence had been a comfort throughout his journey through the decaying kingdom, and he had found himself eager to see his friend in every new place discovered. And now, they sat by him as he spoke fondly of being able to relive the beauty of Hallownest, of being able to meet them. They stayed as quiet as ever, and he couldn’t help but smile.

There was a quiet sadness about them, Quirrel thought to himself, and he wondered if they knew what he planned. His friend sat unmoving next to him, staring across the waters just as he had done a bare few moments ago. Together, they let the time slowly drift by, only the gentle flow of the waves giving any sense as to how long had passed. He sighed softly, and turned to face their friend, words ready to spill, but he paused. They were looking at him, eyes as empty as ever, but there was a mournful air around them, and a part of him thought that, were they able to, they would be crying.

“Friend?” he asked hesitantly.

They did not look away, studying him as intently as his Madam had shortly before-

Ah. So they did know then. Or at least guess.

“Do not worry about me, my small friend. I have wandered this world for a long time, have been lucky enough to experience more wonders and beauty’s than most bugs do in their life time. Mourn not for me, my dear friend. My duty has been fulfilled, and now I shall rest,” he said gently, letting his claw rest uncertainly on their head.

They seemed unconvinced, and took his hand with their own small ones, mask shaking in silent disapproval. Quirrel chuckled.

“Even without a voice, your scolding is clear. Tell me, what is there left for me to see?”

For him to live, went unspoken.

They swept a claw to the world around them, before pointing up, up, upwards.

“Hallownest is gone, my dear friend, choked by this infection. The village above will soon follow,” he murmured gently, but they shook their head vigorously again.

They grabbed their nail and swept it as though fighting some invisible foe.

“Oh? Shall you fight off the rest of this sickness then? Do you even know how?”

Do you know what it will cost, he did not say, instead staring at the little fellow besides him.

They nodded, dropping their nail and grabbing his claws again, staring hopefully up into his own face.

Well then.

“I see you won’t let me go that easily. Very well, my dear friend. I shall wait until you fight off this infection, so that I may see a clean Hallownest again. And who knows, maybe there will even be life again,” he said begrudgingly, but a small part of him was intrigued. Perhaps even excited. His Madam surely would hate for him to waste his life, certainly before even giving the revival of Hallownest a chance.

Waiting wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Not with his friend by his side, not with the quiet hope they still inspired. Quirrel had long since forgotten how or where the infection came from, or even how it was contained, aside from the Dreamer’s Seal, but he believed in his small friend. If anyone could do it, then surely, surely them.

“If that is the case, then I shall meet you above in Dirtmouth, once it is all over. But for now, I will enjoy this moment for a while longer. You are welcome to stay, or continue your quest, but your company is never unwanted.”

The little Ghost plonked themselves back next to him, and the two of them watched the lake together until Quirrel could feel his eyes closing, lulled into a gentle sleep with the steady comfort of his friend.

The waves lapped gently against the rocks.

[thehappiestgolucky]

Misc, 19, Tiso & Quirrell in Vigilante!AU, please

Misc, 19. “You’re my best friend now, no take-backs."

He was very glad he wasn't carrying anything fragile on him at this precise time. Quirrel stumbled backwards, dropping journals as someone roughly collided into his shoulder - both staggering for a minute.

"Oh gods sorry bout that!" The other bug rambled out, already reaching down to pick up the scattered stones. Ah, it was Tiso again.

"Oh, thanks." Quirrel replied, gladly taking and storing the journals in a bag once more, "You really need to watch where you're going, my friend. What are you running from anyway?" Quirrel quirked an eye when Tiso only gave a giant smug smile back.

"Long story, got time?"

"I do, but do you?" Tiso waved a hand nonchalantly, glancing around him half heartedly. Of course the ant wasn't worried.

"Two in one. Some bug was trying to rob someone else, so I beat them up and left them for the guards and I threw a bag of Tiktiks into Luriens room!"

"Unbelievable. I assume that's why you're running then? Not so subtle were we?"

Tiso laughed loudly, slinging an arm around his friend. Quirrel could only shake his head with an amused look on his face. "Since when was I subtle?"

"Oh I'm sure it'd be an imposter if you were."

"You know me so well!"

The shouts of guards caused the two to snap their heads in the sounds direction, armour glinting from afar. Not too close to see the two together yet. Tiso roughly patted Quirrels back, striding away quickly. "Cover for me?" he called back.

"This is like, the eighth time now Tiso!"

"Hey! You're my best friend now, no take-backs. You decided to be friends with me!"

"Fine fine! Just don't get yourself caught!"

Tiso threw Quirrel finger guns, running off as Quirrel only shook his head and snickered.

[nompunhere]

Pillbug’s Protection - Chapter 1 (H/ollow K/night Vore Fic)

Heyo! This takes place in the same timeline as The Traveler and the Tiny Ghost, so if you haven’t read that, it’s recommended that you do, but I guess you don’t have to. If you have read it, here’s the vore part.

Next

Characters: The Knight (Ghost), Q/uirrel, random enemies, unnamed background characters (mentioned) Word Count: 3,156 Warnings: Violence, Injury, Bugs, Safe Soft G/t Vore (unwilling to semi-willing) (don’t like, don’t read), Mention of Temporary Character Death Other Notes: To those that were waiting around for the noms, sorry this took so long to get to, haha. It’s not really integral to tatg’s storyline. It should have 2 chapters, so the next part will be out hopefully soon

Chapter under the cut

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A rain of ash lightly obscured his vision as the traveler stepped out from the tunnel. The vast open space he had just entered was filled with great rotund bugs lazily floating through the air, distant squeaks of Belflies, and the faint bubbling of acid far below. The tiny cold shape nestled in his kerchief next to his cheek shifted uncomfortably. Reaching up to pat Ghost’s head with two fingers, Quirrel took in the sight before him.

Kingdom’s Edge. The deep-set inscriptions written within the tunnel and along the wall behind him warned explorers and overly-curious citizens away from this place. It wasn’t too difficult to discern why.

When the great beast floating near the edge of the platform he stood on didn’t come forward to attack, Quirrel cautiously stepped closer. Still no reaction. Ghost pulled themself further into the cover of his headwear. One hand on his nail—just in case—he gave it a light shove. All that happened was that it lost its balance, dropped a bit, and then clumsily carried on flying as normal. He was almost certain he’d never seen one before, but looking at it gave him a sense of déjà vu.

“Huh. See, Ghost? Not a threat at all, or so it seems.” He felt them huff and chuckled. With their current position, he couldn’t see them, but there were other ways of figuring out how they were feeling. It was understandable why they might have been frightened of the lumbering beast, considering how big it was compared to them (especially now), but in hindsight, it was rather humorous. He almost sighed and shook his head, but remembering how disorienting that would be for his traveling companion, he stopped himself.

Quirrel looked down into the chasm below. The vibrant green of acid was visible between the odd platforms that jutted out across the ravine. The area was covered in shadow, but it wasn’t all that hard to see. Though dimmer than the lumafly-lit City of Tears, a soft light filtered through from above, and the ash was a bit easier to see through than the rain.

He violently flinched back when a large corpse plummeted by not an arm’s length from his face and crashed onto one of the outcroppings below. At the same time, Ghost pressed themself into the side of his head and shivered noticeably. Hesitantly, Quirrel brought a hand up and held them through his kerchief, looking up in confusion and gradually ebbing fear. Wherever that body had fallen from, it was too far to see from where he was.

“Well,” he started, hoping he didn’t sound too shaken, “let’s get down from here, shall we?” The wanderer nodded, relaxing into his palm. That was a relief, seeing as how their shaking had started to make a cold spot on his shell.

The parkour down was incredibly nerve-wracking. Though the platforms throughout the space were solid enough and didn’t dip under the pillbug’s weight at all, there really wasn’t much holding them up. He was half-convinced that there was magic at play. Along with that, there was the looming threat of plunging into acid if he made a mistake. There were plenty of things to catch himself on in that event, but he didn’t trust himself not to panic and somehow miss all of them.

With steady breaths and frequent pauses to plan out his next few moves, Quirrel leapt his way to the bottom of the ravine, careful to avoid the large bugs hovering about and the seemingly endless supply of falling bodies. Upon reaching solid ground in the form of another tunnel at the bottom, he heaved a sigh and placed a hand on the wall, leaning into it.

“That was—hff—quite the trip, wouldn’t you say?” Ghost released their death grip on the cloth around his head and nodded into the side of his face. He huffed a laugh and gave them a fond tap on the horn. “Let’s go see if we can’t find some decent ash to collect for the Mask Maker.” Back in the last room, there wasn’t much floor space for the falling ash to pile up on, and in the current passage, there wasn’t enough airflow for much ash to come in, so off to the next room it was.

A short ways down the corridor, the explorers came across more unfamiliar creatures. Unlike the last ones however, these were visibly Infected, and hopping their way steadily towards Quirrel. He brandished his nail, Ghost looking on in interest. When the first one came within range, his blade flashed outward, dealing a nasty cut to the thing’s face and knocking it back some. It carried on hopping though, so the pillbug slashed again and again until it stayed down. Hardy things, those little hoppers were.

Upon the next one’s approach, Quirrel readied himself to dish out another flurry of blows, but before he could, Ghost launched themself from his hood, nail in hand. They swung the weapon downward, just in time to bounce off of their opponent. They repeated this downward slice many times, keeping themself balanced above the enemy, until it too was slain. Quirrel would’ve loved to make some kind of witty remark about their method, but more hoppers were coming, and he had to play his part.

The rest of the battle went about as smoothly. Though Quirrel took no injury, Ghost did at one point mistime a strike, resulting in them getting bashed into by their enemy’s next jump. It took them only a moment to recover, and once the combat ended, they returned to Quirrel’s side, crouched, and surrounded themself with a pale glow. He knelt down to pick them up, idly wondering what exactly they were doing as he waited for them to finish. Most likely, it had something to do with Soul.

Once Ghost was securely back into their spot in his kerchief, Quirrel began the trek over the rough and hilly terrain that lay ahead. The space opened up, and windborne ash fluttered in through open passageways and splits in the stone above. Piles of the pale material became more frequent as the traveler made his way past jagged rock structures and glowing white roots.

Just as he walked over to one such mound of ash to begin gathering, the sound of unsteady wingbeats drew his attention upward. What he saw was an aspid, which in and of itself would not be too concerning, but this one was decorated with sharp points and an extra set of eyes, tripping Quirrel’s guard. He took a step back and got into a defensive stance, nail raised and eyes alert for its next move. Really, aspids didn’t pose much of a threat, but something was different about this one, and he could never be too careful.

Just then, he felt a distinctly frigid scrambling against the side of his mask. “Ghost-” he warned, barely having time to get his friend’s name out before both they and the aspid fired off attacks at once. It was rather alarming to have a bright light shoot out from right next to his face, but he only twitched the tiniest bit, trying to avoid throwing off Ghost’s aim. As for the aspid’s shots, the acidic spittle singed his kerchief a bit around the edge, but that was it. It seemed as though the thing was aiming for the little wanderer rather than the much larger target that was Quirrel. Curious. No time to think too hard about that now, though.

Based on the vibrations through his hood, Ghost had moved up to stand on top of the mask he carried. As steadily as he could, Quirrel lunged in for a stab at the attacking aspid. It moved away as he did, but he still got in a good cut along its side. The knight leapt from atop his head as soon as the aspid was in range. Their frantic swipe landed, but they took a hit in return as they fell to the ground. One more slash from the pillbug’s blade almost took it out, but momentum had carried it far enough back that he just missed.

Thuds of increasing volume from the left alerted Quirrel to the approach of more hoppers. Take care of the greater threat first, but stay aware of all dangers. Stepping over the little wanderer, he jumped up to bat the strange aspid out of the air. It being on its last metaphorical legs, that was all it took. That taken care of, he turned to the oncoming swarm, calling out to his tiny friend in warning.

“Behind-”

He cut off with a wince at the faint crunch of a freshly-cracked shell. It seemed his warning was a bit late, for Ghost had already rushed headlong into the fray. He should really get used to fighting alongside someone again. There was so much to keep track of at all times. He wasn’t sure if the cracked shell belonged to the knight or a hopper, but he didn’t wait to find out. With how even the little hoppers were taller than Ghost at their current size, paired with the sheer number of them, his friend would quickly be overwhelmed. He couldn’t let that happen.

With a small use of Soul to boost his speed, Quirrel rushed in and snatched them off the ground, lashing out at the gathering of hoppers as he zoomed by. Once the boost wore off, he returned his nail to his hip, held Ghost to his chest, and flung himself upward at the outcropping blocking his path. The climb was short, but it felt ages longer, especially when he had only one hand to assist him.

At the top, he looked back. The hoppers couldn’t follow them here—it was too steep. His relief only lasted an instant, however, before the telltale sound of wingbeats from above shattered it again. He had mere moments to make a decision, and his traveling partner was hurt. Quirrel started forward to go down the other side of the short cliff, but stopped abruptly when a spot on the ceiling ahead began to crumble. Another hopper, this one many times larger than the ones behind him, fell to the floor with a great thud. Thankfully, it couldn’t hop high enough to reach his current position, but it ruled out “forward” as a possible means of escape.

Surrounded by enemies on all sides, Quirrel stood stock still at the top of this temporary sanctuary. Before he could even process his own actions, he had pried the bottom of his mask away from his face, shoved his friend into his mouth, and knocked his head back with a harsh swallow. The sickly-sweet sting of Infected aspid acid burned its way down his throat, paired with the odd taste of absolutely nothing. The nothing lingered in his mouth for a bit after its source had already left, creating a numbness to go with the light acidic burn.

Mortification at what he had just instinctively done briefly took over, but he had bigger concerns. Ghost would be fine, he would make sure of it. Turning to face the oncoming aspids (gods, there were even more of them now), Quirrel drew his nail once more and began his counterattack.

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The tiny ghost flailed in blind panic as they dropped into a small, warm, damp, moving space. What just happened?! One second, they were curled against their most trusted friend’s chest, shaking from their injuries and just hoping for the time and Soul to Focus, and the next, they were… They shivered. As much as they searched for any other explanation, the only one available seemed to be that Quirrel had eaten them.

He had put them in his mouth (which would be scary enough on its own, as every time they came in contact with one of those, they got bitten) and pulled them down into his body. They were inside of Quirrel. Surrounded by him on all sides. They couldn’t leave if they tried. They were helpless.

...Wait. They had their nail, didn’t they? Ghost had returned it to their back after Quirrel picked them up. Still lying face down, as they had landed, they patted at their back. It wasn’t there. They picked themself up and looked around, noting that they could see, if only barely. A dark shape was visible against the pale blue of the walls and floor. They grabbed it, considered it carefully, and tucked it into their inventory. They could never bring themself to hurt their friend. If worse came to worst, Ghost could come back. Quirrel, to their knowledge, could not. He’d never want to hurt them, so of course they should extend that same courtesy.

That did bring them back around to their main question, though. Why did he eat them? They’d never heard of- ...Well. They had heard, actually. And seen.

When you’ve been travelling beyond the kingdom’s borders for years, decades, possibly even centuries (in theory, at least), you see a lot. Two lovers in the alley behind a restaurant who thought they were alone. A large bug comforting their smaller friend in a secluded area of a park. A stranger at the edge of town, pinning down someone who clearly didn’t want to be there with their maw wide open (Ghost had whipped out their nail and come running at that one). In all the sprawling cities, vast nations, and obscure villages they had been to, they’d seen things. And very, very rarely, said things had included a sapient bug eating or trying to eat another sapient bug alive.

In many places, it was unheard of. In many others, it was taboo, but still known. In a few, it was talked about as though it were just another personal matter. Ghost knew that Quirrel had also been traveling for quite some time, so it seemed likely that he could’ve passed through some areas where it was more common. It was still bizarre, though. This was safe, right? Was this his way of protecting them?

A sudden movement knocked them back onto their face. Various muffled sounds from the fight outside reached them through the walls. The tiny knight crawled over to the nearest wall and turned themself to lay back against it, crossing their arms. They could feel a heartbeat to their left and below. Judging by that, they were on Quirrel’s… right side? That was probably it. Really, it didn’t matter too much.

They wanted to be out there, pulling their own weight in battle. They didn’t need to be protected like this. They had explored half of Hallownest by themself, hadn’t they? Of course, that was before they became miniscule, but… They sighed. Ghost appreciated the sentiment, really, but this wasn’t necessary. Sure, they were injured, and sure, their mask couldn’t carry as much Soul as their old shell, and maybe Focusing took a lot longer than usual, and yeah, Quirrel didn’t know they could come back from death, but- Okay. Maybe this was warranted.

Speaking of Focusing, they took the opportunity to do so. Soul gathered around their head and patched up the scrapes as best it could. With the material not being as organic as shell, the Soul didn’t seem to know where to go, and Ghost had to direct it manually. The mask only carried enough to Focus once, so when they ran out, they drew from one of the Soul Vessels in their possession, and healed again. This left them at about half of their full strength. The other container didn’t have enough to Focus with.

That done, the little wanderer leaned into the wall of Quirrel’s… stomach. Right, that’s where they were. In a stomach. Perfectly fine. Everything about this was just fine. Nothing to freak out about here! They were simply trapped inside their friend, surrounded by layers of pale flesh, blue hemolymph, and hard shell, and that was okay. Panicking would help nothing, after all. All that Ghost could do in that moment was try and stay calm while they waited out the battle going on outside. They forced the building tension in their chest down and did their level best to ignore everything around them.

…

It wasn’t long until the sounds and movements stopped, though it took the knight a moment to notice when they did. The racing heartbeat below gradually slowed, and a slight hiss of pain sounded from above. Ghost looked upward in concern. Was Quirrel hurt? They patted at the wall to get his attention.

“Ah!” The voice, though not any louder than his usual volume, was startling in how it surrounded them so completely. They could feel the vibrations from it on their back, though they were already somewhat used to that part from hearing the pillbug talk while they were in contact with his mask. Along with the voice, the wall to their right was pressed in on them a bit. Ghost shifted in discomfort.

“I- well. I’m sorry, my friend. I’d imagine you want out of there.” They started to nod, but remembering that Quirrel couldn’t see them, they gave the floor a single pat. The two had previously established a system for when Ghost was in the pillbug’s satchel or hood and didn’t want to come out to nod or shake their head. One pat for yes, two for no.

“That’s understandable. I apologize for scaring you. You’re in absolutely no danger there, I promise. I just- You were injured, and I panicked. There was nowhere to run, I couldn’t risk losing you, and this just sort of… happened.” There was an awkward pause. “You are alright in there, aren’t you?” One pat. “Then, erm, would you mind staying there a bit longer?” What? “I’m sorry, it- it’s just that you’re very injured, and it would just be until I could get you somewhere safe to heal.” If Ghost had a movable face, they would’ve squinted. They were already halfway healed (not that Quirrel knew that), and the satchel would be good enough to carry them in safely, wouldn’t it?

When they gave no response, the pressure from the front wall lifted, and the traveler hesitantly kept speaking. “I can’t help but worry, you know? Please trust me when I say that that’s the safest place you could be right now.” It was true that nothing bad had happened to them there yet, but Ghost was still a bit skeptical. Quirrel sighed around them. “Look, it won’t take long, I promise. Just, please, let me handle this for you?” …Fine. They reluctantly patted the floor once. Two vibrations were sent through the front wall, presumably from Quirrel patting back.

“Alright then. Let’s be off. I’ll find a safe spot to get you patched up soon enough, don’t worry.” With that, the larger bug started moving again. Ghost resigned themself to waiting a bit longer.

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Fun Facts About Pillbugs: - It is more difficult than it needs to be to find info about their internal anatomy - They aren’t bugs, they’re isopods, which are crustaceans - They have blue hemolymph (cyanin has copper instead of iron, so unlike hemoglobin, it turns green or blue when oxidized) - Mother pillbugs have pouches to carry the babbus in. I wanted to include that fun fact in the fic, but I couldn’t find a good spot for Quirrel to mention it. Maybe next chapter, though! - Pillbugs can eat heavy metals and remove them from soil safely - They have gills - Go look up more on your own, pillbugs are very interesting

oh yeah I threw in a headcanon that in this universe, vore happens, but it’s rare, and different bug societies have different views on it. In Hallownest, it’s uhhhhhhh, people definitely think it’s weird, but it wouldn’t be like, illegal in and of itself. idk. some bugs know about it, some don’t. (but of course that all goes out the window in an apocalypse-)

okay, I think that’s it.

Next

Thanks for reading! Feedback would be appreciated, so long as you’re respectful about it. Asks are open.

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DNI NSFW blogs, blogs that post exclusively hard and/or fatal vore, weightgain blogs, proshippers, TERFs, ace exclusionists, etc.

[shostakobitchh]

chapter 21 sneak peek!

Dumbledore drew the curtain back behind him, lifting a finger to his lips. “Calm yourself, dear girl, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out.”

“But —”

“The Stone is safe,” he sat himself at the edge of her bed, and patted her hands comfortingly. “I’ve made sure of it.”

She could feel herself deflating with relief (again). Looking around, she found that she was alone, but the tables and empty gurney were covered in baskets of candy and flowers. She looked to Dumbledore in confusion, and he chuckled.

“Gifts from your friends. What happened between you and Quirrell is a secret, so naturally, the whole school knows. Miss Granger and Mr Weasley have been quite worried about you, though. They’ve been asking for you.”

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Three days,” said Dumbledore. “Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t let them in, insisting you needed your rest, but they’ve asked every chance they’ve gotten.”

Ariel’s heart squeezed in her chest, like it was trying to give her ribs a hug. “When can I see them?”

“Whenever Madam Pomfrey thinks you’re ready.”

“Why did she allow you in, then?” Ariel paused, realizing her question may have come off as rude. “Not that I didn’t want to see you, sir —”

His eyes twinkled. “I imagine you have some questions for me.”

She didn’t even know where to begin. She wanted to ask about the Stone — what had happened to it, was it safe? — and about Voldemort, how he’d been hounding her as the Smoke Monster but renting out the back of Quirrell’s head.

Instead, Ariel found herself asking, “Where’s Snape?”

The curtain pulled back again, but this time, it was so hard that some of the metal rings cracked off the rod. If Ariel had been paying more attention, she might’ve thought it was odd that Dumbledore didn’t turn around to see who it was.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Dumbledore gestured to the candy. “I’ve helped myself to some, but Severus seems to have accidentally set some on fire.”

Snape did not look… well. There were dark circles under his eyes that were so deep it looked like they’d been carved out with an ice-cream scooper. The sunlight streaming in from behind him made him look like he’d been peeled out of the shadows and stuck there. He looked so out of place that Ariel had to blink a few times to make sure he was real.

His eyes burned into hers like piping hot coals. It took every ounce of courage Ariel had not to look away, but even if she wanted to, she didn’t think she could. There was something wild and desperate in them — she had the suspicion that if she looked away first, something inside of them would shatter.

“Do join us, my friend.” Dumbledore said, still without looking behind him.

With that, he conjured a purple armchair, one that looked like it was made of satin and starlight. Snape stared at the chair like he wanted to put it in a chokehold, but after a moment, Ariel was surprised to see that he sat down on it.

[tribus-mantodea]

[ Silk and stone. ]

something as both tiny compensation for the lackluster doodle queued for tomorrow as well as “if I didn’t get this out of my system I think it’d haunt me until I did.” I’ll tag this as the AU, but maybe I can pretend it happens in my own whacky little canon verse anyways orz

WC: ~ 700 | a tiny interaction between a lord and a child

Each of the four ruling Lords had their own formidable character. And if a challenger daring enough died by their claws, then it proved they had no business attempting the labyrinth that was Deepnest for whatever inane reason they had. Their territory, their rules; the King had no interference further than their truce. As such, seldom did they make exceptions for treating those who’ve yet to earn their respect formally.

Like the unruly cub pointing a needle at the Fourth Lord's face in the private clearing of their training grounds.

"Shortie."

Was he that short? His features crinkled at the address as he leaned against a dummy made of sinew and shrooms, carefully crossing his arms. “What,” he said. Saw her cock her head with the quiet tapping of hidden appendages.

"Are you strong?" She lowered her nail, somewhat.

"Assuredly."

Straightening her posture as if imitating another, she lifted and flailed with a cry, “Fight!”

...His deadpan stare had swiftly extinguished her spirit. Was a proud warrior supposed to be an entertainer? He’d have humored it if she was older, but he couldn’t imagine it being too enjoyable as things stood now. The mantid leaned forward and off of the dummy. "Our youths would be better suited to spar with you."

She stilled. Looked away with a near pout. "Not really."

"How so."

"Bad. Weak?” Hornet kicked at stone, bounding then to flourish at spores. “They're like tiktiks."

Strange; his daughter once held the same sentiments even if she respected their kin. The mantid decided to leave her to her thoughts and amble away to a barrel. (She snapped-perked up, trotted after.) He struck at the top with a blunt end and peered into it for a moment, glancing at the child now by his side who’d gained renewed interest. Hm. There’s nothing exciting to be found here, he thought as he scraped the insides, gathering one of the many pink-resilient mushrooms. It was dropped at her feet and bounced-bounce-bounce-settled.

Hornet looked down, prodded at it to see if it would move. It did not. She pulled back her arm and pierced it quickly. Kept it in place with one foot as she glared, treating the object like a pin-cushion. Took a minute before asking, "Will you tell them?"

"Well, will they give reason to?" he sneered. Just thinking of the Hallownest bugs that failed to have the decency to respect their customs irritated him. Were they terms not negotiated well enough? They certainly were, so if this tiny bug with the heart of a warrior wanted a little retreat, the Lords could care less about any of their thoughts on these little harmless interactions.

She hummed to that and continued to stab at the mushroom without pattern. Hornet seemed content. Yet in the beat passing, she soon shook her head and stopped (rather disappointedly, if there was anything to go by the silent sigh of her shoulders). Patted debris off of her shawl and grumbled, “I should go.”

“And is that your obligation or what you want to do?”

“I don't wanna—” she flicked her weapon— “want to. But..."

Crouching down, he draped one arm over a knee and tapped the ground with the other. "Then they can come get you themselves if you’re needed. Like the other times."

"What if they don't need me?"

His mandibles clicked. "Herrah will."

And that was that. Supposing that the child could work out her own issues in due time, he watched her resume her stab-work with a thoughtful hum, distant lifted-shining claw of a warrior catching his eyes. His tilted head and their nod was signal enough that indeed, someone had arrived to retrieve the little soul. Unfortunate. If the dramatically lowered blade swipes were anything to go by, it was the teacher’s pet pillbug.

"They're here?"

The Lastborn regarded her. Had offered the flat end of his foreclaw and she, after a moment of consideration, would clamber up and onto his shoulder, her needle never scratching metal or sinking through cloth. He waited for her to settle comfortably before answering, "The smaller one is."

Hornet lightly tapped the side of his mask. "You."

"You’re also small.”

"Not for long.” Pointing to the ceiling, she swung her many legs back and forth. “I’ll be the tallest sibling. Tallest hunter."

He snorted.

[ hornet proceeds to wonder if it’s acceptable to stab quirrel like the mushroom from earlier since both things look squishy /joke ]

[mostlikelyshutup]

thoughts while watching the first harry potter:

listen i started this list a little late im ngl but notable thoughts so far are me thinking of dumbledore as a gay idiot and still loving hagrid

do you think hes speaking in parseltongue in the zoo when hes speaking to the snake

forgot boats existed

these idiots do scream a lot dont they

i forgot how light hearted this universe really is in the first couple movies

yer a wizard harry, okay hagrid maybe slide him into it a little better

we get it tuney you have fucking trauma, doesnt mean you should abuse a child

hasnt everyone had their name down since they were born, hagrid? theres a list

i like that his umbrella is pink

are you paying for those damages hargid? stop taking the door off the hinges

though, if the dursleys are, keep breaking shit

speaking about dragons on the the fucking tube, its a miracle harry didnt get in trouble with the ministry sooner

what is hagrid's usual? does anyone know???

fucking Quirrell, cant wait for your epic love story with the dark lord

maybe we should tell the 12 year old how the fuck everyone knows his name, just maybe

they do a great job of getting the wonder down pat

how much money and licensing do you think it took for them to get all these owls on set

ahh yes, antisemitism the bank

how many vaults are in gringotts?? also if harry's vault is the potters vault, a literal like sacred 28 family, one of the original families, and its number 600 something, how many were there before the potters?? did the potters get a vault recently? or is this james and lily's vault?? how rich were james and lily if so??

look at ollivander, crazy tinker uncle, love him

this might be the socialist in me but why do people have to pay for wands if everyone needs one??

why is the dark lords twin wand just sitting around on the shelf, ollie me boy??

do you think thats Harry's true wand or do you think thats because of the horcux thing?? do you harry had to get another wand after he died?? did he? i dont remember the last movie

is ollie me boys actor wearing contacts or are his eyes just like that??

thats a very weird way of showing Halloween 81, very misleading

hagrid said ill predict voldys rise in the first movie so we can have some plot development

hagrid is late to everything isnt he? i can feel it in my bones

i swear ive seen these movies, and ive even read the first book, i just dont remember shit

youd think theyd have someone in the know stationed close to the entrance for the platform, for any muggleborns

ginnys actress really had no fucking lines in this movie did she, just had to stand there

oh wait she said good luck

amazing work ginny

ooh a warm filter

can muggles see the express? like just running from london to scotland

wicked!

you didnt have to show the woman the sad sandwich ron

i think the trolly replenishes magically, i think thats how thats how that works, i want to believe that

god i cant tell if i would love or hate hermione, shes pretentious but so was i at that age

god dont fucking point your wand right in someones face mione

how does mione know who harry is?? why does she care?

look at the tiny first years, might just go and pinch theyre cheeks

MINNIEEEE i love you minnie

looking stunning minnie, the green brings out the sternness in your brow

you go minnie, give your speech, thats my head of house

shut up draco, youre not bond

you pretentious fuckwit, your hair is brassy anyways

if this is a class of kids born in the middle of a war, how big are the usual class sizes wtf

THE FUCKING CLAP

fucking propaganda ron, you slytherin hater

what order are these names going in, did they just randomized the list

oooh we get quiet for the boy who lived, jesus let him keep living

the fact that for the rest of these people its just silent is so fucking funny to me, Harry's just fucking whispering to himself

get their attention minnie

me dads a muggle, mums a witch, bit of a shock for him when he found out

NICK, love to see you buddy

i have no emotional attachment to peeves but i feel i should mention him here

the stairs still piss me off, why the fuck would you make moving stair cases

who sets out gloves for the next day? am i the weird one who doesnt??

Minnie, you are the love of my life

shut up snape you dramatic bloodpurist incel

i know theyre setting him up to be mistaken as the villain but jesus christ hes still an asshole

your robes Neville, you forgot your robes

its weird how they have to learn all these latin charms yet only have to say up to get their brooms to work

why wont you go after him, hes obviously not exactly in control, Hooch

does Hooch only teach first years? she is quite literally the equivalent of a history teacher who coaches football

what the fuck is Quirells classroom

they dont make the house teams because no first years can try out, Ron

MINNIE PLAYED QUIDDITCH?!?!? WHY DIDN'T I KNOW THIS

why didnt you speak up earlier Mione wtf

bc the fire wont give you away, harry, better hide

FLUFFY, WHOS A GOOD BOY

they have much worse things locked up in the school, Ron

Oliver wood is a bloody liar because i still dont fuckign understand quidditch, also theres like 500 rules, wtf

thats a shitty explanation of how the game works, Oliver

BLOW IT UP SEAMUS

SHES TWO FEET BEHIND YOU RON YOU IDIOT

carrot cake? on halloween?

dont shrug as if you didnt literally bully her ron

thought youd oughta know, bit of an understatement Quirell

no duh the trolls left the dungeon ron

lying: the best start to any friendship

we're at a net zero points for gryffindor for the year at the moment

the amount of interaction these kids have with professors is so weird to me, is this what small class size do to kids?? its weird

not comforting Oliver

Okay i understand Oliver simps now, I get it okay

are there no backups or subs for quidditch? feels like there should be, like of all the games

set him on fire mione, i know hes not the villain of the movie but god he sucks

fancy flying from harry fucking potter

okay but also i feel like there are some things we should not trust hagrid with, like hes not that great at keeping secrets

why is harry excited about christmas if he thinks hes not getting presents? i knw there are other aspects but like thats the only reasont o get up early

i always remember this scene at night for some reason??

not just an invisibility cloak, THE invisibility cloak ron

btw who gives it to harry? is it remus? is it dumbledore? is it like an inheritance thing? whats up with that?

there are jumpscares in harry potter

he very much can hide, filch

stop being a narc mrs norris

does harry even know what his parents look like at this point? how does he know who the fuck is in the mirror of erised?? he doesnt have that stupid scrapbook yet does he

oh they nod, sure lets clear up that plot hole

they shouldve put sirius and remus in the mirror in that scene, shown his whole family, wouldve been a nice setup

how does rupert grint already look so tired as a twelve year old

big speech to give to a twelve year old Dumbledore, when you wont even tell him what you see

Emma really does just slam that book on Daniels hand, thats mustve fucking sucked

the fact that ive watched two movies that had Nicholas Flamel in two very different roles this year is very strange to me

well thats probably on account of it being a fucking dragon egg hagrid, now isnt it?

was hagrid a hufflepuff? i think he was, maybe a ravenclaw

yes four, you blonde idiot

that shot is really nice, it sets them apart

what happened to filch to make him such a miserable man?

ooh mention of werewolves, awooo werewolves of london

yeah just dip your whole hand in hagrid, dont be scared of the strange liquid, take a nice little bath

i loev that dog, i want that dog, i want to hug that dog

god just the look of that forest is so bloody cool

wait so is that quirell walking fucking backwards?

maybe ask who the fuck youre talking to before asking other questions??? wtf harry

why are yout talking to the centaur like hes your old friend harry, youve literally never met him before

snape doesnt want the stone at all Harry

god hagrid you sweet stupid man

snape is completely valid for that, if a twelve year old ever looked at me like that i would punch them

Do you think people ever loose invisibility cloaks? like theyre invisible do you think they ever just never get found again

i hate the look of the dog spit, that is so gross

they really left everything in except for the fucking potions didnt they, damn

harry potter walked so queens gambit could run

hermione, posted up

rons stupid in the later movies because he got a concussion as a twelve year old

god harry really posted up to beat up snape in fucking khakis

"I knew you were a danger to me!" Hes twelve, Quirell

let me wait for this weird dude to unravel his head scarf instead of running away

the magic in this movie is real fucking conditional isnt it

just some casual necromancy for the stone? you sure about that voldy, you two faced bitch?

let me choke out this twelve year old real quick

oh yeah why is he able to just avengers endgame Quirell? is there an answer to that? like was that ever found out

do you think voldy passing by him while he hold the stone actually killed him but since he holds the stone hes functionally unkillable and then some magic gets put into him and thats why he can return to life later when he actually goes to the whole afterlife place?

ohhh we're vouching on the blood magic for the endgaming of Quirell

do you think dumbledore came across the vomit flavored bean before or after his sister died?

Mione's got a headband! Looking snazzy!

how did Hufflepuff only get 352 points? Gryffindor literally lost 150 points this year and they only beat them by 50, wtf, is it because they kept getting caught with weed

I wont even speak on the fucking outrage that is this point awarding, its already been spoken on. However, Neville shouldve gotten more points

What if someone just stood up and started challenging Dumbledores math, that would be so funny

some of these extras are really attractive

but james potter is somehow so fucking ugly why did they do that to my mans

hagrid deserves the last shot of this film, i love him, he deserves everything, that stupid sweet man