#so maybe they would lay small clutches of single eggs

[swan2swan]

Thinking about Ankylosaurus ovulation and honestly I need more arguments for and against clutch sizes.

[mistress-and-servant]

Just a Tear

“Go change,” she said to him, sternly.

She was sitting at her vanity, powdering her face when he walked in. She didn’t even turn around to say that, merely glanced at him through the mirror. Charlie was momentarily shocked, but then nodded to her and quickly made his way back to his room to put on his maid outfit. This was a common occurrence for him. Sometimes she’d demand to see him in his maid outfit, while other times she didn’t mind the butler one. But he would gladly change for her whenever she asked.

The maid outfit was slightly more revealing. The skirt portion didn’t even go past his mid thigh, and there was a cat head hole right where his chest was. It showed off a bit of his cleavage squishing out against it. The sleeves were tight right below his shoulders. It was a bit more difficult to move around in this outfit, but he’d never complain to his Mistress. He quickly made his way back to her door and knocked.

“Enter.”

He opened the door and shut it behind him as he walked in. He stood behind her, just like earlier. This time when she glanced up, she smiled and slowly turned around in her seat. There was a spark in her green eyes.

“That’s better. Now, Charlie, do me a favor and do not take that outfit off till you burst out of it.”

Charlie paused, and blinked a few times to catch up with what he heard. His maid outfit had started to show how much he’s grown, but even with how ill fitting it had become he wasn’t sure how long it would take for him to completely outgrow it.

“Do you expect me to even wear it while I sleep, Mistress?”

“Oh heavens of course not-“

He sighed in relief.

“- I expect you to do it today kitten.”

His eyes widen and a blush began to form on his chubby cheeks. She giggled.

“Oh stop. I know you can do it. I would suggest you sit around and just stuff your face till it happens, but I know how much you don’t like ignoring your duties.”

He nodded, he hated the idea of not doing anything at all. He was her butler after all. And if he did nothing at all, then how was he ever to keep his worth?

She continued, “ Yes, so since you need to be doing something, I suggest that as long as you are working, you are also eating.”

She got up from her seat and walked up to him. She placed her small hand on his tum and patted it. It gurgled, reminding him that he had yet to eat today. “I want to see you eating something all day, no matter what. I’ll make sure of that.”

｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡

Breakfast was the easiest. She didn’t add anything to his simple meal of eggs, bacon, toast and a cup of whole milk. He was sure that she would add a pastry of some kind, but she just sat there with her own portion and smiled. After taking and cleaning their dishes, he got started on making a list of things that needed to be bought for the home. He would receive lists from the head chef and head housekeeper, and he would then in turn check the stock room and pantry to make sure everything was listed off.

It was in the stock room that he heard someone come into the room. He looked and saw his Mistress come in with a plate of cookies. When she got to him, she immediately shoved a cookie into his mouth. He had no choice but to eat it, and it was delicious. It was still warm, and it was crunchy on the outside but soft on the inside. The chocolate chips were gooey, coating his mouth as he chewed. As he finished it, a second one was pushed into his mouth. This went on as he continued to check the stock. Cookie after cookie would pass through his lips with no room in between them until finally there was none left. She smiled at him and finally left him alone again. It wasn’t till then that he noticed a slight bit more pressure in his tummy. He rubbed his belly and burped into his fist before continuing on with his work.

｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡｡◕‿◕｡

This continued on throughout the morning. Treat after treat would make his way to him, and his Mistress would happily feed him as he worked. She fed him slices of cake, batches of brownies, plates of cookies, and other such desserts until it was finally time for lunch. He had just finished a plate of scones and was now slowly making his way to the kitchen. He was full, his belly now pushing against his maid outfit. He could have sworn that the fabric was slowly inching its way higher up his legs, showing more and more skin as it went. The end of his skirt was barely covering the top of his thighs, and soon would start showing the very bottom of his belly. Yet there wasn’t a tear yet, he was afraid that he wouldn’t burst out of the outfit and it would simply no longer cover his body.

He held his belly as he walked, trying to stop it from sloshing around and causing more discomfort. He hiccuped and burped softly as he got closer. But before he could enter, his Mistress came out and blocked him.

“Oh no no no. You are to sit at the dining room table. I will bring you your meal.”

He was about to protest, but she began to push him away. “Go on now. I know how hungry you must be,” she teased. He relented and made his way to the table. As he was slowly lowering himself onto the seat, he felt something give, and his belly expanded a little with the extra room. Upon inspection, he found that the bow to his apron had come undone, and now the flaps were loosely on his sides. It didn’t count, but it gave him hope that maybe he’d be able to stop soon.

He inspected his clothing further and found that, when sitting, his skirt barely covered his legs at all. The ends of the fabric were just shy of exposing his belly. He patted his tum, causing it to gurgle. He was so full already, but he knew his Mistress would not stop till he burst out of his clothes. He hiccuped, causing his belly to wobble, and he groaned. He hoped he'd be able to get up after lunch.

Half an hour passed before his Mistress entered the room. With the little time he was given as a break, he was starting to breath a little bit easier. His tummy was still full, of course, but he was finally relaxing, until he wasn’t. The Mistress brought in two plates with her. One with a bowl of creamy potato soup with bits of bacon in it, the other with a sub cut in half with cheese and tomato sauce oozing from the sides, a classic chicken parm sandwich. They both smelled amazing. Even with his full tummy he began to drool at the thought of eating them both. He rubbed at his belly, momentarily forgetting his fullness.

His Mistress sat the two meals down and motioned for him to eat, which he did with no hesitation. He began with the bowl of soup. It was warm and creamy. The bacon was salty, and as he lifted up his spoon he saw that there were globs of cheese and chunks of onion and carrots mixed in. He savored the flavors, and before he knew it the bowl was empty. He stifled a burp in his hand and began to rub his tummy. Not only did he feel how stretched his belly was, but also the fabric of his dress. He didn’t understand how it could still contain him after everything. He swore that he could hear creaking, he just wanted it to tear already. His belly gurgled and a burp slipped past his lips. He blushed as his Mistress pushed the next plate in front of him. Charlie picked up the sandwich and began to eat again.

Slowly he made his way through it. Bite after bite of cheesy, saucy chicken and bread slid down his throat and expanded his tight gut. He groaned as he felt his stomach grumble even more. He tried to push his belly out in hopes that the dress would finally give but it just held on. Even after the last bite joined the rest in his packed gut, not a single thread had given out. He let his head fall back and didn’t try to hide the burp he let out. He was just so tired from the heavy weight in his belly sitting on his lap, still covered by his maid outfit. He barely registered the hand slowly rubbing circles into his belly. His Mistress pushed a finger against his stomach and felt how tight he felt.

“I really thought for sure you’d rip through this by now.” She placed both hands on either side of his wide expanse and gave him a gentle squeeze that still made him groan at the discomfort. She stopped and continued with her rubbing circles. After a few minutes of caressing his stuffed midsection she got up and stood beside him, grabbing his right arm.

“Come, it probably isn’t too comfortable sitting like this. Let's get you to a more comfortable spot.”

He moaned at the thought of moving, but after a moment's hesitation he began to slide himself closer to the seat edge. He used one hand to grip the dining table, and the other to support his tum to prevent any unnecessary movements. Slowly but surely he got onto his two feet with the help of his Mistress, his belly wobbling as it was pulled down by gravity. The weight making him have to arch his back to give his belly more room. He hiccuped and groaned and clutched at his middle, his Mistress leading him towards her personal Reading Room. She led him towards the plush coach they’d both use to sit next to each other during lazy days. She made sure that he slowly and carefully sat on the cushions and then pushed him into a lying position. With laying on his side his belly was no longer pulling at his back, now being supported by the soft pillows. He was both more comfortable and still in pain by the sheer volume in his tummy. His Mistress sat down next to his head which then made him want to pull himself closer to her to put his head on her lap. He struggled a little before she granted mercy on him since all this began and shimmied closer for him to snuggle into her. She began to run her fingers through his hair.  With now being close to his Mistress, he began to purr softly and gently fell into a food coma, his tummy slowly digesting all the things he’d eaten .

The last thing he heard before slipping into darkness was, “Maybe when you wake up we can continue working on tearing this outfit.”

[noisyalmonddreamer]

Holiday special

Word count: Idk a lot  (a/n): Someone come save me I’m tired this took my soul away this is also unedited because I’m to tired for that

Percy:

-This boy LOVES Christmas

-He get's into the feeling like right after thanksgiving

-Decorates his cabin like there's no tomorrow

-But he wont spend Christmas eve or day at camp, he's with his family

-He also goes to his family's house to help decorate

-Snowball fights? you will not BELIVE how excited he gets for them

-He loves hot chocolate and demands his has marshmallows in it

-be careful if you guys make cookies together he WILL eat the batter

-"Percy stop you could get sick!"

- "but it's so good!"

-"IT HAS RAW EGGS"

-he wears Christmas sweaters and Santa hats

-He invites you to come to his mom's house for Christmas

-On Christmas day itself he's supper excited but from how he was acting you'd think he was an actual responsible adult

-but really he just really wanted to make it special for Estelle so he was just being giddy on the inside

-He gets you something that would remind him of you

-Something he finds beautiful

~~~Scenario~~~  (lowkey feel like I wrote him out of character I'm really sorry)

The sounds of soft snores filled your ears as you woke up. The sun reflecting off the bright snow seemed to magnify the sun's rays. You turned over to see your boyfriend, Percy, sound asleep with a little bit of drool sliding past his lip. You giggled as you took the blue blanket and wiped it away causing him to stir a little.

"Percy, It's time to get up" you nudged him lightly trying to wake him. He groaned pulling the cover up more. You rolled your eyes before an idea came to mind "Percy wake up it's Christmas."

The gears in Percy's head seemed to move for a second before his eye's popped open "OH MY GOD'S IT'S CHRISTMAS!" He popped up from his position. You smiled before leaning over and kissing him on his cheek "yeah it is, now you might want to put a shirt on before-" your sentence was cut of as Percy looked at the window.

"Oh my God's (y/n) look it snowed!" he got up from the bed and excitedly went to the window pretty much vibrating from excitement. He looked like a little kid, his eyes shining bright and a giddy smile on his face "I know Perce" you laughed as he pouted at your comment "As I was saying you might want to put on a shirt before Estelle comes in."

Percy laughed and threw on a sweatshirt before climbing back into bed with you "what are you doing?" He looked at you and smiled "pretended you're asleep she'll want to have woken us up." He kissed your head and laid back down.

Percy was, of course, right. Moments later you heard two little feet barreling down the hallway and tiny squeals of excitement. The door opened and a little girl hopped onto the bed trying to wake the two of you up "GET UP GET UP GET UP!!!"

Estelle shook the two of 'awake' and you yawned "good morning Estelle. What can we do for you." You smiled at her as the little girl squealed with excitement. "It's Christmas! Mama and Papa said we couldn't open present's till you two woke up! Percy Percy get up!"

Estelle dragged the two of you out of bed into the living room where Sally and Paul had hot coco waiting. You sat on Percy's lap as you watched as Estelle rip open her presents, along with handing everyone there's "here Percy this is yours and this one's yours (y/n)!"

Percy smiled at her and ripped open the present, quickly, ones he saw what it was his eyes brightened as another big grin decorated his face.

After opening all the presents up Paul, Sally and Estelle went down the hall for a few minutes so Estelle could give a present to her friend.

Percy pulled you into his room and got something from inside his cabinet. He handed you a small box rapped in blue rapping paper. "I know I already got you a present but I went out swimming a while ago and found this and I thought of you" he rubbed the back of his neck as he blushed.

You smiled and kissed him on the cheek before opening the present. You pulled out a necklace that looked similar to your camp necklace except it had a single pearl on it. You smiled and wrapped your arm's around him, pressing your lips to his, you were met with the slightly salty taste of his lips. He smiled into the kiss as he pulled away for a second "so you like it?" he asked looking at you.

"I love it thank you Perce"

"Merry Christmas (Y/n)"

"Merry Christmas Percy"

Jason:

-Again he hasn't had a 'real' Christmas in a while

-Mr. Series Roman Praetor  has watched over people for Christmas making sure no one get's to out of hand

-My boy hasn't gotten to have fun for so long

-So when you're like

-"TIME FOR FUN CHRISTMAS"

-He's trying hard! But that series 'gotten make sure things are running smooth' skin is hard to get out

- "Don't drink to much eggnog it has raw eggs you could get sick. Don't have more than a cup please"

- "FIGHT ME"

-I'm kinda kidding but he is kinda stiff about it all

-Sidenote: Someone *cough* Leo *cough* placed a mistletoe above his desk and put a stapler next to him so he was under the mistletoe with a stapler

- "You think you're so funny huh?"

- "Pretty much yeah"

- "It was pretty funny though"

- "(Y/N)!"

-I have said that I think he has a secret sweet tooth

-He drinks his hot coco super sweet

-No one can know though

-Except you maybe

-He decorates a tree with you

-straight up gets tangled in the lights while you guys are decorating

-Send some help for our very own blond super man

-He'll also probably get you something he had found during a quest

~~~Scenario~~~

You placed two steaming mugs of hot Chocolate on a side table. They looked quite nice, if you say so yourself, you had added chocolate shavings atop the whip cream and crushed up peppermint canes.

Looking up you were met with electric blue eyes looking at you intently, holding a Santa hat in his scarred callused hands.

"Do I really have to wear this?" He asked holding out the bright red hat. "Yes of course you do! We're decorating!"

He looked down at you again. "Okay okay I'll wear the hat sweetie but why the entire cabin? We already have a tree do you think decorating the whole cabin is.... excessive?" You rolled your eyes at him "I don't expect you have had that many fun Christmases because you're so,,, Roman so you have to do it! I didn't make the rules bub!"

You skipped over to him kissing him on the cheek than going over to the box of decorations you forced him to fly to camp half-blood. You also got him to carry a Christmas tree that you got from the Stoles, though they didn't tell you were they got it from.

You opened up the box and pulled out a few blankets and pillows.

"What are those for?" Jason stood behind you taking sips from his hot coco watching you. "Decoration! What do you think we're doing here right now?" You threw the pillows and blankets onto the couch

Jason rolled his eyes, walking up to you "I already have pillows and blankets but whatever." He said, his voice held a teasing tone, he knew what he was doing.

You glared at him "I will take away your hot chocolate and not make anymore." You pointed a finger out, trying to prove your point. Jason's eyes widened before he placed his mug on the coffee table and swiftly walked over to you.

"Alright so what do you need?"

"Just take these." You handed him some fake acorns and stuff, pointing at a wall "Place them like over there."

Jason took them into his hands and began working. About thirty minutes in he tapped you on the shoulder. "What about the tree?" You looked over at him "Oh yeah we do that last just give me a sec and you can start detangling the lights." You pointed at the box that had the Christmas lights.

Jason nodded and walked over to the box, pulling out a giant clump of lights. He looked at it, a bit concerned wondering how he would be able to detangle it all.

~~~time skip~~~

Jason ended up being right, he couldn't untangle them. Every time he thought he had gotten another tangle out it led to another, then when he thought to follow a single cored it was stuck in other cords. This is all to say that in thirty minutes Jason managed to tangle himself in the lights, yet he still didn't ask for help or even call out for you.

He didn't want you laughing at him so he decided he would get himself out. Which also didn't end up well because he fell with a loud thud.

You had went outside to hang a few more lights and decorations on the porch when you head it, a loud thud followed by a groan of pain. You hurried inside to see the son of Zeus himself, Praetor of New Rome, Hero of Camp Jupiter, laying on the floor tangled in Christmas lights.

"It's not funny!" He yelled when he had heard your giggling. This only turned your light giggling into full on laughter you clutched your stomach in pain as you laughed.

"It's so funny! How did you even manage to do that?" He looked up at you "Can you please help me?" You bent down to his level "of course on one condiction"

"Yes anything!"

"Let me take a picture."

Leo:

-Burns the coco because he's impatient

-He also puts candy canes into his hot coco

-Along with like 3 hand fulls of marshmallows and like a giant whip cream mountain

-He also lowkey doesn't like eggnog

- "It tastes like sweet eggs!"

-You can bet your ass he is going to force you to wear matching PJ's on Christmas eve

-While setting up the tree he get's very frustrated with the lights

-"THIS IS SO DUMB I'LL BUILD MY OWN LIGHTS!"

-He does end up doing that and they look very cool

-May or may not end up breaking some of the ornaments

-"What was that?"

- *Sweeping away a broken ornament* "Nothing babe!"

-He makes all his presents himself

-Like 2 months before he's haled ass up in bunker 9 making presents

-At some point he made a Christmas robot

-It's called that but it's main purpose is to peg snowballs at people

-He does bring a Christmas tree inside the bunker but forgets to water it then it catches on fire because it's dried out

-He will also pull mistletoe out at random time's claiming you have to kiss now

- "You just pulled that out of your tool belt. We're not even near ceiling"

- "Hmm? What? I don't know what you're talking about. But time for kiss! Who are we to break tradition?"

-You force him to dress up as an elf and give presents to kids

- "Why not Santa!? I'm making the toys!"

- "You're to short to be Santa plus your pointed ears!"

-He builds you something is that even a question

-It's a charm bracelet with a few different charms, one of them actually is magic and will pull out a shield  

~~~~Scenario~~~~~

You were stood outside bunker 9 on Christmas morning waiting for Leo to change. You shivered as a cold wind felt like it pierced your skin, both Leo and yourself had gotten up earlier then you normally would have but you two wanted to have your own thing before joining the rest of the camp.

You breathed out, a puff of smoke leaving your lips, as you turned around and banged on the door. "Leo come on! We're gonna be late and we still have to drag the presents to the bonfire!" you yelled through the metal. "This is ridiculous! Why am I dressed as an elf! I made the presents! This is humiliating!" His voice sounded whiny, you could practically hear him pouting.

"Come on Leo think about the children! They'll be so happy!" You heard a reluctant sigh leave him before the iron door opened reveling Leo in an adorable elf outfit.

"I feel ridicules." As he walked towards you the bells on his shoes jingled, making you burst out laughing. "Oh you have got to let me take a picture!" You grabbed Leo by the hand and pulled him towards the slay he had built. "Alright Mr. Elf let's go!"

"Don't call me that!" His whiney complains were only halted as you pecked his cheek quickly. "Now if you want more then let's go!" Leo's eyes widened, he grabbed the leads  and rushed towards the bonfire.

~~Time skip. Like only 5 minutes~~

As the slay slowed down to a stop you heard screams, you looked over your shoulder to see most of the younger camps, in their pajamas, running up to the slay with an excited look on their faces.

You looked over at Leo who had a bright smile on his face already grabbed a piece of paper with each kid's names and which toy they got. "You ready?" you whispered over to him, adjusting your hoodie. "Hades yeah I am!"

You hopped off from the slay in front of the kids, they all stopped and looked at you, pretty much vibrating from excitement. "Alright kiddys! Are you ready for your presents?" You question was only answered with shriek's of excitement and maybe one or two 'YES!'s.  

"Mr. Elf has each of your presents all the way from the north pole! But you have to wait to be called on can all of you do that?" The kids again in unison nodded their heads.

Leo popped up next to you startling you a bit, a big dopy grin still decorating his face "Alright I'm looking for a Gogo?" A little girl came running up to Leo, bouncing up and down with a plush in her hand, "Here you are Gogo" Leo handed the little girl a nicely wrapped present, the girl took it before bolting to her siblings yelling out a "THANK YOU!"

One by one Leo listed off the kid's, each one yelling out a thank you, and joining their siblings. As the last kid ran away Leo looked into the present sack. "Oh what do we have here?"

You looked at him with a questioning gaze "Did you forget someone? That was the last kid so I don't think you did." You looked around to see if there was any stragglers before Leo cleared his throat.

"Well why don't we have a looksie here and...Oh...it look's like this is for a certain...(Y/f/n)." You looked over at him again. "I didn't ask for anything..." you trailed off. Before you could say anything else Leo plopped the present into your hands, kissing you on the cheek. "Merry Christmas bebita."

Nico: -"Christmas is coming up?"

-Boy doesn't even realize

-I headcanon Nico secretly has a sweet tooth so I think he would like egg nog and super sweet hot coco

-I also think he can cook so he makes cookies with you

-But he will act like it's a pain and out of his way

-"Do I really have to?"

-"If you don't want to I'll just go get Leo or someone to help me!"

-"...Pass over the flour"

-He constantly has a candy cane in his mouth

-He legit eats so many you have to take them away from him

-Putting a Santa hat will anger him but he'll wear it because he loves you

-Unless someone comments on it then he'll take it off

-He really likes cooking with you, he finds it domestic like you guys are normal, so during the Christmas season he may act reluctant but you guys make stuff together a lot

-But baby boy also kinda has a sensitive mouth so hot food burns his tongue really quickly

-That combined with him kinda being impatient...he burns his mouth a lot

-He asks you to kiss it better

-He would probably get you something he found on his travels

-Or a stygian iron dagger

~~~Scenario~~

You finished tying up your apron, looking over to see Nico hadn't even tried, just letting the apron hang off his neck while he was reading a book he had found in an old library a few weeks ago.

You groaned walking over to him "Nico!" He only hummed in response, bobbing his head and continuing to read. You looked at him for a moment before placing your hand on his shoulder "NICO!"

Nico jumped slightly, looking up from his book at you. "What?" You glared at him for a moment, he rolled his eyes and booked marked the page, placing his arms around your shoulders.

"What's up il mio tesoro*?" He grinned stupidly down at you. "Oh don't 'il mio tesoro' me Mr! You're just avoiding what we said we would bring to the party in hopes we wont go!"

Nico laughed, raising his hands up in defense "Alright alright you got me! But I still don't get why we have to go to the party!" He pouted, crossing his arms.

You walked over to the counter rolling yours eyes "One, because we said we would and Two they're your friends and my friends it would be rude not to."

Nico slowly walked towards you, a small pout on his lips. "But I just want to spend the time with you!" He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his vanilla scent filled your noise. You blushed pushing him away.

"Just help me with the cookies then we can make some hot chocolate!" Nico's eyes lit up at the mention of hot coco. He placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, tying the apron and rolling up his sleeves."

Ten minutes into cooking you almost regretted trying to cook with Nico. He was great at it but he was such a control freak! "No No! It said 2 cups of chocolate chips that's to much!"

You stared at him "It doesn't matter!" He groaned pushing you out the way "here let me do it!" You watched as he carefully folded the chips into the batter, wrapping the top with plastic wrap and placing it in the fridge.

"Alright it's gonna rest like that for 2 hours, it makes everything even more delicious!" He looked over at you with bright eyes. "Time for hot coco!"

You walked over to him, kissed his forehead before pulling the milk out the fridge. "alright just measure out the amount of milk we need." He nodded grabbing two mugs and filling them then dumping them into the pot.

He stirred the milk lazily "Why isn't it going faster?" He went down to turn the heat up "Nico no! You're going to burn the milk!" He looked at your tiredly "you don't like when it get's the skin on top and neither do I so lower the heat please!"

Nico rolled his eyes, lowering the heat to the second lowest setting then staring at you "happy now?" You nodded, grapping the whipped dream out the fridge and shaking it while Nico continued to stir the milk till it steamed.

The smell of warm milk filled the room as you heard Nico pour the steaming milk into the mugs.  You walked over to Nico, who was sitting on the couch you saw he had already stuck another candy cane in his mouth.

Grabbing the whipped cream bottle you made two small hills of whipped cream in each mug and waited for it to cool down. Nico, however, instantly grabbed his mug bringing it to his lips.

"Don't your gonna burn your mouth." You told him, watching him roll his eye. "No I'm not you're worrying to much."

He took a bug gulp then letting out a yelp, placing his mug down. He stuck his tongue out reveling a nasty red burn. You let out a small chuckle "see I told you!" He pouted at you "It really hurts!"

"Will you kiss it better?"

Frank: -Baby LOVES Christmas

-He takes you to canada

-He takes you to the Christmas market's and stuff

-He's also one who will get tangled in lights

-Along with that he isn't allowed to touch the breakable ornaments, like the delicate ones

-He also LOVES hot coco

-Frank makes like perfect hot coco's

-Like a nice whip cream swirl with chocolate and a few marshmallows

-It's very nice looking 10/10  

-Will also make maple taffy with you in the fresh snow

-But since you have to boil the syrup he isn't allowed

- "Frank baby, can you get the snow?"

- "Oh umm y-yeah!"

- "Alright here you are Frank, don't burn yourself"

- "I wont"

-He WILL wake up early on Christmas day

-He will also force you to go outside and have a snow ball fight

-istg he's just a nervous child in a giant's body

-Frank makes SUPER good eggnog also

-He LOVES getting a hot cup of coco and cuddling up with you next to a fire

-Especially after being out in the snow

-Also this boy really likes making snowmen

-and he's so good at it to

-Like he can make snowmen and like animals out of snow

-Hard to say what he would give you

-I want to say a sweater but that's not really like boyfriendy

-SO IM GOING TO SAY MATCHING SWEATERS

-More like a hoodie you had been wanting for a while and he got himself a complimentary one so you could match (And wear his because he knows you. You're not sly)

~~~Scenario~~~(Before anyone says anything I know he lives in Vancouver which is a city but just pretended you guys went to a cabin or something lol)

The cold winter air felt like it was ripping through your skin as the coldness from the snow made it's way through your boots and mittens that Frank at bought you the other day.

You looked over to Frank who was packing down snow on the last little bear cub, completing the bear family he was making. He smiled back at you, his nose and cheeks a light pink from the cold. You trudged over to him, the snow sinking slowing you down slightly, and wrapped your arms around his middle.

"Hey Frank I'm getting pretty cold can we head in soon?" You asked looking up at him. He smiled again, nodding his head "Yup! Just let me finish with these-" He grabbed the stick he had been using to adding details to all the bears and drew on some eyes and a mouth. "and done! Alright lets go in. Want to make some hot coco and eggnog?"

You nodded, grabbing his hand and pulling him back into the house. You pulled off your mittens, boots and socks and walked into the boiler room where they could dry.

"Hey Frank can you grab some wood? I'm gonna start a fire, it's kinda cold" Frank nodded, walking into the room where the wood had been put as you began getting the ingredients for eggnog and hot chocolate.

A moment later Frank walked into living room in his arms he held a few logs of cut, dry wood. He placed them on the hearth and began to collect kindling, starting the fire. "Hey I said I would do that Franky!"

Frank took his gloves off as he walked down the stairs "It's fine! I already had the wood so It's fine"

You pushed the hot coco ingredients to the side knowing it would take less time when you felt a pair of strong arms make their away around your waist and felt someone's chin on your shoulder.

"You got cloves honey. You need nutmeg" He placed a kiss on your cheek, grabbing the cloves and placing them into the spice cabinet, pulling out nutmeg. "Is there a difference?"

"Of course there is! I don't know it but you use nutmeg in eggnog, honey, not cloves." Frank stood next to you, grabbing the carton of eggs. "Can I separate the eggs?" He asked smiling brightly, jumping up and down a little. You smiled up at him, chuckling at his childish antics "Of course you can baby!"

About 10 minutes later you had unusable egg whites with pieces of egg yoke broken into them plus an almost empty carton of eggs. Of course you could just run to the store for more eggs but you had no interest in heading outside during a storm.

"Okay Fraky baby I think maybe I should crack the eggs but you can whip them okay?" He nodded, looking down and backing away from the counter leaving you 5 eggs.

Ones you finished with the eggs you began finishing up the eggnog without any other mishaps. You placed the eggnog into the fridge to let it get cold. You turned to start making the hot coco before Frank stopped you.

"You go put on some soft pajamas I can finish making this!" You went to rebuttal but he had already pushed you into the room you were sharing to let you change. You let out a sigh and pulled on some comfortable clothes along with the hoodie Frank had gotten you.

You walked into the living room and started tending to the fire. You sat down for a moment before you felt a blanket engulf you along with the feeling of being pulled into someone's lap. You felt Frank nuzzle into your neck, smiling.

"Merry Christmas honey"

"Merry Christmas baby"

Will:

-My oh my does this boy love Christmas

-During campfire this boy will sing ALL the Christmas songs

-ALL. OF. THEM.

-He also helps decorate around the camp

-He also really likes picking out Christmas trees

-Wears what he says are "really nice looking" sweaters...because sure they are

-Will also replaces the lollipops from his candy jar with candy canes

-He will scold you if you eat to much cookie dough

-Will also force you, and a bunch of others, to take vitamins during the winter

- "I don't want you getting sick!"

-"Fine I'll take them!"

-"But remember to take them everyday because if you forget to take one day then you'll forget like three days then you'll never take-"

-Kissing him gets him to shut up don't worry

-When he makes eggnog he makes sure that the eggs are pasteurized, so there's no chance of salmonella

-Also this sneaky son of a god will take you to places that he has hung mistletoe to get kisses

-He would definitely get you a music instrument he helped customize  

~~~Scenario~~~

You watched pearlescent puffs of smoke left your mouth, fading into the dark sky. You shivered as a cold wind hit, taking another sip of your hot coco.

Chiron rarely let it snow in camp, preferring to keep camp on the nicer side so everyone could train, save from the times he lit it rain. But today was a special occasion, Christmas eve.

You watched as Will stood in front of the camp, with his siblings, singing jingle bell rock a dopy grin on his face. Sure he looked a little tired, he had been working more than normal due to cold and flue season along with helping decorate camp, but over all he looked bright and happy.

You let out a cold sigh, pulling the hoodie Will had given you closer to your body. You stood up heading to the table with more hot coco, the song in the background had changed to some other song.

You were poring yourself another cup of coco when you felt a warm pair of arms around your waist, pulling you flush agents someone's chest. A small chuckle came from your lips as you put down the cup of coco, placing your arms over Wills.

"You feel cold." He placed a kiss on the nape of your neck, nuzzling there for a second before resting his chin on your shoulder. "It's cause it's cold dumb dumb" you ruffled his hair, glancing at him for a moment seeing a small pout on his lips. "You sounded good up there." You said turning around, plopping a handful of marshmallows into your drink.

"Thanks but I got a bit tired, plus I wanted to hang out with my adorable s/o, who I haven't seen all day." He placed a quick kiss on your forehead "You took your vitamins today right? I know you forget sometimes so I just wanted-" you cut him off with a kiss "yes yes mother I took my vitamins."

"Good " he smiled, lacing his fingers with yours, kissing you again "That hot chocolate is good I should get a cup" he turned around, his fingers still with between yours. "Your fingers are really cold." He looked over at you while poring a cup for himself.

"C'mon" he started pulling you towards the infirmary "Why?" He looked at you for a second before sighing and letting out a small chuckle, a smile decorating his face "We're getting you some gloves and an extra coat I left in the infirmary. C'mon"

Will walked ahead of you leading you to the infirmary. The breeze hit you like a knifes, hugging yourself to keep warm. "(Y/n) c'mon. It's really getting cold out" you looked up to see the open door to the infirmary, Will's voice calling from somewhere inside.

You stepped in, closing the door "Where are you?" you asked, dusting off the small bit of snow that you hadn't even noticed to have fallen. "In the back, hold on a sec I'm grabbing two jackets for us."

You sat on a waiting chair for a moment before Will's candy jar, filled with candy canes caught your eye. You smiled, standing up from your seat, quickly grabbing a candy cane and popping it in your mouth.

"Alrighty I got- Hey those aren't for you (n/n). You have already stolen half a jar." Will laughed as he watched you eat the candy cane. "What can I say they're delicious." You flashed him a smile, only to be crushed in a giant coat. "Don't want my sunspot getting cold now do I?"

You pulled the jacket around yourself and watched as Will do the same. He grabbed your hand pulling you out of the infirmary only to stop in the door way.

"Will what is it?" He smiled, pointing up towards a bundle of mistletoe. "Time for a kiss. It's tradition" he smiled brightly, placing his hands on your cheeks. You pouted, crossing your arms "You did that on purpose." Will laughed, pecking you all around your face "hmm maybe but are you gonna complain?

Magnus: -Boy hasn't had a real Christmas in so long

-so when you're like "CHIRSTMAS!!!"

-He's like lowkey uncomfortable

-But he does get over it

-He kinda doesn't like Christmas songs that much

-Mostly because Jack sings them 24/7 for like 2 months straight

-If he hears Jingle bells one more time he will loose it

- "JINGLE BELL-"

-"JACK I SWEAR TO THE GODS IF YOU DON'T STOP"

- "JINGLE BELL JINGLE ALL THE WAY"

-"(Y/N) PLEASE NOT YOU TOO"

-He LOVES hot coco, egg nog, cookies, pretty much any food really

-But he sucks at making them

- "I BURNT IT!"

-"YOU DON'T COOK EGGNOG!?!??!?!"

-ngl Christmas with him will be stressful but hella fun

-He SUCKS at ice skating

-Like this boy has no coordination or center of balance

-Falls every like 5 seconds

-Promise him some hot coco after

-Jack laughs at him after falling so many times

-For a present I think he'd make you matching bracelets with stuff he has collected on the hikes you guys have gone on

-He's saved a few things from each one, for the memories so he makes a bracelet out of them for you  

-I'm very series when I say that he straight up cherishes the little things he has saved

~~~Scenario~~~(If you're bad at skating....Shhhh)

You looked over to Magnus to see him struggling with tying the laces of his skates. You let out a chuckle before bending down and swatting his hands away. "How do you suck at tying your laces?" Jack's voice could be heard from above you, Magnus blushed "Shut up! The strings are really long! You don't even know how to tie laces!"

You laugh in amusement, looking over to see a few people watching Magnus in bewilderment. You tapped his shoes indicating you were done and he could stand. You stood up in front of Magnus, waiting for him to join you.

He shakily got up, grabbing onto you for support. "This isn't gonna be some cheesy romance movie scene about ice skating is it?" You laughed only to be cut off my Jack "OoOoOoO If It was I could serenade you to!-"

"NO" you both stumble slightly as Magnus yelled. Rolling your eyes you pulled Magnus towards the ice, stepping on was a bit hard as he refused to let go of you but he eventually let go, replacing you with a wall. "Magnus you have to let g-"

"No way! I'm gonna fall straight on my ass if I let go!" He continued to inch further along the wall as you stood still, watching him. About 3 minute later you got bored and decided it was time to take a lap or two around the ring.

"(Y/N)! Where are you going?" Magnus looked up to see you about 10 feet away from him. You turned around in time to see him fall straight onto his chest. "I was just gonna do a lap or two. I'll be back in a minute enjoy your date with the wall." You winked at him, wiggling you fingers, before skating up ahead more.

During the two laps you did you watch Magnus fall a bunch more times, he did at least try to get off the wall a few times, before fall straight on his ass and hanging to the wall again. You sighed, skating up next to him.

"Give me your hands" He looked up at you shaking his head rapidly like a child "no way I-"

"Oh my GODS Magnus just do it I'm trying to help you!" He pouted at being yelled at for a second then put his hands in yours. You pulled him away from the wall, his legs shook as he tried to stay balanced.

"Bend your legs, yeah like that. Have your feet kinda go diagonal, no the other way" He continued to wobble a little. A few minutes later Magnus was able to stand for a little on his own, he didn't get very far, but he could do it.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! LOOK IM DOING IT!" He waved over at you, even though you were a few feet away, causing him to fall. He groaned, rubbing the side of his jaw. You went up to him, bending down to his level. "Oh no Maggie, my baby! Are you okay?"

He pouted again, moving to sit normally. "Maggie?" He didn't move her look at you "If you continue to sit like that your pants are gonna get wet." Magnus's eyes widened before he scrambled trying to stand up, only to fall hard on to his hands, letting out a soft whimper.  

"Can we please go get hot coco now?" He stood up more cautiously, nursing his hurt wrist as he leaned agents the wall. Your eyes widened in realization that he was actually hurt. You skated to him, lacing your fingers with his. "Of course we can Maggie. We can even go to that cute little bakery we passed by on our way here and get freshly baked cookies! How does that sound?"

Magnus smiled and kissed you on the cheek "that sounds amazing."

"...can we get falafels after?"

Hearth:

-Again he doesn't really know what Christmas is

-Like he knows around winter people start buying stuff more and he sees trees, being sold but he doesn't understand why

-he's never really asked. Of course he's seen stuff advertised for Christmas so he makes the connection that they are connected

-So when you find out he hasn't had a Christmas like...ever you have to break that

- "here wear this!"

-"Why?"

-"Because it's festive c'mon! "

-You end up dressing him up like one of Santa's elfs and he feels really silly

-He's also lowkey offended when he sees what elf's look like in Santa world

-"This isn't accurate at all. Why are they all so happy and nice?"

-Helps decorate Blitzen's shop and the apartment

-Still doesn't understand the tree though

-"But....why a tree?"

-"I don't know babe but it's festive so come on!"

-He sucks at making cookies, its the sad truth

-He isn't good at picking presents lol

-He'd get you something you had been wanting for a while, a book or something

-Also would ask Blitz to help him make you a matching scarf

~~~~scenario~~~~

You walked into the apartment you shared with your boyfriend and best friend, the bag on your shoulder holding presents for the two. You kicked your shoes off and took of your jacket as you walked into the living room. A box of Christmas decorations was left waiting to be opened as you looked over to see the boys setting up the tree all three of you picked out.

"Hey!" your voice alerted Blitzen who turned around and saw you in the entrance "welcome back how was your shopping?" you sighed, shrugging your shoulders "It was alright I might have found a thing or two." The smile on your face gave away the bluff but Blitz laughed and rolled his eyes, walking into the kitchen to get a drink.

You walked up behind Hearth, hugging him around his middle, barring your face in his back. He tensed up for a second before turning around and seeing you. He smiled and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Hi sweetheart" he smiled at you, wrapping his arms around your frame and nuzzling your neck. After a few seconds you pulled away from him "Did you guys wait to decorate the tree?" Hearth nodded before pointing at the kitchen. "We also waiting to make cookies."

You turned around in Hearth's arms to see the ingredients of chocolate chip cookies and gingerbread waiting to be prepared. You kissed Hearth on the cheek before tapping his hands to let you go. Reluctantly he agreed letting his hands drop, only for you to grab one and pull him into the kitchen.

~~~time skip because shhhh~~~~

Hind sight you probably shouldn't have left Hearth by himself to make the cookie batter, but It was almost lunch and all three of you were hungry so you and Blitz went out to grab lunch and come back. Maybe on the way you bought Santa hats which delayed you but you didn't think about what could happen!

So Hearthstone stood in front of you, covered in flour, cookie batter in hand, the kitchen somehow relatively clean. Next to you Blitzen looked like he was about to die from laughter as you continued to stair at Hearth, your mouth a gap.

"What happened?" you slowly signed at him, still in slight disbelief. He blushed and put down the bowl , freeing up his hands "You said to follow the instructions, but I didn't know what a teaspoon was and then I spilled the flour on myself." Hearth stared at you for a for more seconds before you took a deep breath and grabbed his hand.

"Hey Blitz can you start up a new batch? I'm gonna get him cleaned up" Blitz nodded, still looking like he was holding in laughter, as you pulled Hearth into your shared room.

"Hearth go take a shower and I'll put your clothes in the wash, I'll also leave out some more clothes to change into alright?"  He nodded, blushing deeply still "I'm sorry about ruining the cookies"  you laughed, waving him off "No it's alright, Blitz is making a new batch now, just get yourself cleaned up."

You walked into the kitchen and started helping Blitzen make the cookies.

Ten minutes later Hearthstone walked back into the living room area, clad in a Christmas jumper and comfy pants you had set out for him. You walked up to him, kissing him on the cheek "You look cute now come here" he followed you to the kitchen bar stools, where you sat down and held a bit of cookie dough in front of him "You can have some it's really good."

After finishing up rolling out the cookies, and eating more dough then you should have, Blitzen popped them into the oven. You turned to Hearth "We can start decorating the apartment in a few minutes if you want" he nodded, pulling you into his lap, hugging you.

"Do you guys always have to be so lovey dovey?"

"Just wait till I hang mistletoe"

Alex: (I feel like I got Alex's characterization wrong for the scenario so I'm sorry about that :/)

-Alex hasn't really had a 'normal' Christmas even before being kicked out on the streets

-His/her parents were terrible to her/him

-So I doubt Alex has a really good Christmas

-But Alex still really likes the season

-Will do makeup with a green and read theme at least ones

-Also I feel like if there was a ugly sweater party on floor 19 Alex will straight up in a sweater dress that ISN'T ugly

- "Alex the theme was ugly sweater!"

- "I look hot as hell I'm not changing!"

-Never leave Alex alone if you guys make cookies together be s/he will eat ALL of the cookie batter

-You can't even get away with the 'You're gonna get sick!' because...

- "We're both dead"

-Also really loves hot coco

-drinks to much ngl

-and burns his/her tongue

- "Oh no I burned my tongue will you kiss it better" (Did I just use that twice? yes leave me alone)

- Will also hang up mistletoe and makes a big show of it if s/he get's stuck with someone other than you

- "I have to kiss T.J??? Why???? Oh Gods??? WHYY???"

- *T.J. legit just trying to go get lunch* "...But why"

-Will be even more extra if you get stuck with someone else under the mistletoe

-if you do you better hope to the GOD'S it isn't Magnus

- *EL GASP* "(Y/N)!! HOW COULD YOU! I'LL KILL MAGNUS ON THE BATTLE FEILD! YOU HEAR THAT CHASE??"

-Drag him/her away before s/he get's into a real fist fight

-S/he will take you on a slay ride

-Just because I think that Alex is secretly a hopeless romantic

-I could see him/her giving you two gifts

-Just because floor 19 opens gifts together and s/he doesn't want the others to know how whipped s/he is for you

-One gift, the gift s/he gives to you in front of the others, is probably something kinda mundane, a sweatshirt or something

-The one s/he gives you in private is actually really romantic

-It's a locket with a picture of the two of you, both your names in graved  

~~~Scenario~~ (he/him pronouns)

The sound of freshly fallen snow crunching under your boots as the sound of bells filled your ears. This place was quite beautiful, the pretty fairy lights strung up, the snow covered trees, the bonfire crackling behind you made you feel quite relaxed. Before you could get lost anymore in thought Alex tapped you on the shoulder.

"Hey where'd you float off to?"  You looked over your shoulder to see Alex, two cup of something steaming in his hands, bundled up in warm clothes.

"no where just thinkin'" Alex hummed handing you one of the cups. "Where did you hear about this place Alex?" Alex only smiled, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek.  "Why don't we keep that a secret." He winked at you, placing his arms around your waist.

"So you still haven't told me what we're doing here." You looked over your shoulder at him, a playful smile on his lips. He grabbed your hand and started walking towards the cabin that you both had walked through to get to this area.

Ones you both got into the cabin Alex guided you out of the front door where a burly looking man with a white beard stood in front of a wooden sled 6 deer at the front.

You looked over at Alex, mouth a gap, you where about to say something when the man cut you off "Ride for Alex to the frozen pond?"

"Yup!" He smiled brightly popping the p. The man nodded his head, heading to the front of the slay while Alex held your hand, helping you into the slay "my dear your chariot awaits" he said in a mockingly fancy tone. "Alex this is a slay." You laughed while climbing into the seat.

"Oh hush I'm trying to be romantic!" He climbed in next to you, cuddling into your side. You sat there for a few seconds before the slay began moving, almost sending you forward, only for Alex to grab you around your waist and pulling you towards him.

"You really are a klutz huh?" He laughed, rubbing his nose agents the side of his face. "Oh shut it" you smacked his hand causing him to laugh. After a few moments the slay went into a trail in the woods decorated with lights and ice sculptures, the freshly fallen snow decorating the trees.

You looked at the scenery in amazement "Alex isn't this so breath taking!" You smiled pointing at the tree that looked like it had ice drops hanging from the leaves. "Yeah it is" his voice sounded airy a light, you didn't even notice he wasn't looking at the forest.

~~~haha look another time skip~~~

The sun was already setting as the slay slowed down stopping at a clearing in front of a frozen over pond, a hot fire crackling with benches that looked freshly cut from wood.

Alex hopped out the side, holding his hand out to help you down. He scurried over to the fire, taking a log bench that was a bit more secluded yet still kept warm by the fire. "Other people will be here later but I wanted to be here first!"

You nodded at him, slipping your hand in is, bringing both your hands into your pocket. You leaned your head on his shoulder and began talking about random things a book you were reading, a new pot Alex was planning on making, killing your floor mates. That is until an interesting topic came up.

"What do you mean this is like your first 'real' Christmas?" You looked at Alex as he shuffled closer to you "Well I never really had a 'real' Christmas back with my family, then I was on the streets and everything and since being in Valhalla we've been kinda busy"

You looked at him shocked "If you told me I would have gotten you something more special!" He waved you off, kissing you on the cheek. "No no it's fine really." He pulled his hand away from yours, moving them to your face.

"I'm just happy to spend my first 'real' Christmas with you."

[notchesandbullets]

Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Part 2 : Aizawa’s reluctant dad side kicks in when he sees you’re clearly distressed, fast friends with Midoriya, fluff with the girls of 1-A, Todoroki and Sato.

Word Count: 5.7k 

Bowing your head in defeat thinking that there was nothing you could do to possibly change his mind, you started to shuffle towards him when you were stopped.

"Ojiro-san..." You whispered.

He refused to move his tail. He refused to let you go.

"Aizawa-sensei, please," He was desperate, worried out of his mind at what would happen if you were left alone.

If he wasn't there to protect you.

He gritted his teeth, holding back as best as he could. "Don't do this."

"Do you want her to be safe or do you want her to be with you?" Aizawa's eyes were serious. "Because those are two different things."

The boy fell silent beside you.

"Here, she's exposed. Her whereabouts have been leaked to your classmates and while I don't blame you for the incident that occurred, you have taken responsibility for her." The older man continued despite your head ducking down in shame. "This is what's best, not only for her, but for the rest of you."

He directed that last part over your shoulder and you glanced over to see all the boys from earlier as well as a couple more unfamiliar faces that obviously had been roused from their sleep due to all the noise.

Aizawa sighed, really not wanting to argue or go up against one of his most dedicated students this late at night. "You have to remember this dormitory was built to ease your parents' worries. They entrusted your safety to us and we are responsible for you."

The air suddenly got a lot more difficult to breath.

"I told you that you would have to earn my trust back." He said, rough but even voice cutting through the silence like a knife, alluding at something you didn't understand.

You didn't want this. You didn't want to make things hard on everyone or cause a fuss.

"I'll go."

Ojiro's expression of surprise gave way to pain. "Y/N..."

"They'll be safer if I leave, right?" You met Aizawa's blank stare bravely despite your knees knocking together. "I want to protect them, too."

Protests rose from the other students at your determination, the majority of them pleading for you to stay, much to your surprise. But their teacher wouldn't budge and slowly, they had no choice but to give up. As much as they wanted to get to know you better, it seemed like that would have to wait.

You looked up at Ojiro, sad to have to leave but knew it was the best thing to do for now. As you moved to take off and return his hoodie to him, he halted your movements.

"Keep it." He urged, a slight blush present on his cheeks. "I don't want you to get sick."

With a small smile, you thanked him quietly, promising to give it back when you were able to see him next. He returned your smile at the prospect of there being a next time before unwinding his tail from around you.

You followed Aizawa to where he was staying so that he could make a phone call from his office. You took a second to peer around the cluttered room curiously but dared not explore. Unlike Ojiro, he didn't seem like he would take kindly to you poking around his things.

Suppressing your instinctive curiosity, you gulped when he hung up the phone, approaching you with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"For now, you can't stay on the school grounds until we figure out some kind of legal guardianship." He relayed, being rather straightforward and clear cut with you. "I'll walk you to an inn for tonight."

"Ah..." You trailed off as he fixed his gaze on you, shuffling your feet awkwardly. "T-Thank you Aizawa-shi, but I-I can... take care of myself. I don't want anyone to get in any trouble and I know it will reflect badly on UA if you are caught harboring me, so..."

Letting out a heavy sigh, he walked past you as you rambled, opening the door. "Just hurry up."

You walked quickly, not wanting to fall behind as he strode on ahead of you, paying your entire speech no mind. You didn't know whether or not to be thankful or offended but greatly leaned towards the former. It was true that you had enough survival skills to look after yourself but life was much harder when there wasn't anyone in it.

It took about an half an hour by taxi but the night was nice and Aizawa instructed you to hide your ears and tail as well as not talk to anyone else.

You followed him to a quaint inn at the outskirts of UA's property, checking in at the deserted lobby, Aizawa paying for your room for the night. Unable to help it, you started to wander, curiosity taking over.

The walls were decorated with vintage wallpaper, curling slightly at the edges when one panel would fade into another. But while the air inside felt musty and the carpet was stained with faint shades of tea and coffee, the fresh flowers at the center of the lobby brought a smile to your face.

Once you were out of earshot but still within his field of vision, Aizawa turned to the owner.

"Make sure she gets whatever she asks for." He told him gruffly, handing him a bunch of yen to compensate for the trouble. "Food, blankets, whatever she needs."

"Y-Yes, of course, sir." The owner babbled, stunned by the sheer amount of money he had just handed to him.

You spun around, yelping frightfully when you face-planted into Aizawa's chest. He steadied you, sending you a glare that one could only decipher as a warning. Backing away quickly, you apologized profusely until he cut you off, telling you not to make so much noise.

It was late and he had a headache.

Chastised, you followed him up the creaky stairs, coming to a door with green paint peeling off of it.

Aizawa arched an eyebrow, then internally shrugged, using the key to open it. Inside, there wasn't much. A twin sized bed was crammed next to a lumpy couch he was assuming had a pull out cot, a table and a single chair in the corner along with a small bathroom.

He sighed again, wishing that he brought his sleeping bag. That would've been more comfortable than this.

Flicking on the light, he drew the curtains closed. Sparing a glance over his shoulder to make sure you were still alive since you hadn't talked since he entered, his eyes narrowed when he found you with your back pressed against the door, eyes widened in alarm.

Your knuckles were white from where you were clutching the doorknob, nearly breaking it in the process and the sound of it rattling is what drove him to finally break the silence.

Recognizing the patterns of your behavior, he turned around to face you, keeping his shoulders relaxed and maintaining eye contact with you. Trying to appear as non-threatening as he could possibly get, he forced his jaw to unclench.

You let out a shaky breath you didn't know you had been holding in when his expression softened. If you didn't know any better, it almost seemed like he was being kind.

"I don't know what you've been through but I'm not going to do anything to you, kid." Aizawa murmured and you were taken aback by how the edge to his voice disappeared when he was talking with you. "I also know that might be hard to believe coming from a stranger, but it's late and you need to sleep."

He had a feeling you would react like this and while initially he had planned on leaving and going back to the dormitory to get some shut eye before the sun came up, something compelled him to stay.

He wasn't sure it was because of your reaction but regardless, he wasn't leaving now.

This area wasn't well protected and if anyone saw you coming in and him leaving, they wouldn't hesitate to take you. He didn't know how well informed the Quirk Traffickers were but he wasn't going to take any chances.

Waving his hand towards the bed lined with fluffy pillows, you hesitated before timidly laying down as he suggested. Now, you realized what he was doing. With you here and him there, he had maximized the space between the two of you and didn't block your access to the door in case you needed to flee.

Your ears flicked nervously as you got under the covers, trusting him a little bit more. "What about you?"

He exhaled, eyes closing, swollen bags already present under them. "I won't move from here. I'd leave you alone, kid, but I'm not sure that's a good idea since those guys that are after you are pretty persistent."

Your eyebrows knitted together, contemplating if it was a good idea to ask him.

He had just started dozing off when your shy voice asked, "You're a hero, right?"

Humming nonchalantly, he hoped you would drop it there but you didn't.

"Is..." You played with your fingers, tail flicking back and forth. "Is there any way I can become one?"

That piqued his curiosity.

You stiffened when he cracked an eye open, piercing your soul.

"Why don't we talk about it more in the morning, kid?" He finally said.

Unable to conceal your eagerness, you beamed at him and he crossed his arms over his chest, which was rumbling with laughter. You shifted, getting comfortable and promptly fell asleep. For the first time in a while, you didn't stir once during the night.

He stared at you for a little while longer, gaze growing fond. For a kid to have gone through as much as you have, you sure appeared pure and untainted. Your energy was infectious.

A nightmare for the constantly exhausted underground hero.

Hmm... maybe this kid won't be so bad after all.

The next morning, you were awoken by the light of the sun for the first time in years only to be shocked when a steaming hot plate of sausages and fried rice with eggs were placed by your bedside.

"Aizawa-shi?" You yawned, rubbing your eyes sleepily.

"You don't have to be so formal, kid." He told you. "Aizawa-sensei is fine."

During the night, he had moved from the corner to keep an eye on the door. Sometime around 3 am, he had finally fallen asleep and when he woke up, there was an annoying crick in his neck.

Your nose scrunched up as you sat up, accepting the plate of food he offered you. "But you're not my sensei."

He shot you a look at your cheeky reply and instantly, you shut your mouth, stuffing your mouth only to cry out when you burned your tongue. He scolded you immediately and rushed to get you a glass of cold water.

You smiled sheepishly as he made you drink some before instructing you to blow on your hot food before shoveling it in your mouth like that. This time when you resumed your breakfast, the silence wasn't harsh or stifling like last night. It was lighter.

"I would be if you attended UA."

You dropped your chopsticks. "Huh?"

After more thought and a lot more details from him, you learned that when he had contacted Principal Nezu late last night for the third time. He had asked if it would be possible to enroll you in the general studies course until they could figure out a safe place for you.

Going to school would put you on a lot of lists due to the information the school had to provide for the government and it wasn't his initial plan since you wouldn't be able to hide in the blink of an eye with no paper trail, but he couldn't think of anything else after that fiasco that Ojiro had informed him of last night.

Plus, with you enrolled in their school with literally pro-heroes everywhere, you would be well protected simply within UA's walls. And if you ever went missing, he could already think of twenty students who would come to your aid.

You were silent at first, mulling it over. Your fluffy ears twitched every so often as you ruled out other possibilities until a wide smile spread from ear to ear.

You bowed at him, popping back up with your eyes shining, heart touched that these people you barely knew were going so far for someone like you.

"I would be honored, Aizawa-sensei."

You spent most of the weekend alone since he had other responsibilities that required his attention but he always came by at lunch to check on you and then again at night to keep watch while you slept. You argued that he didn't need to do all of that but strangely enough, he insisted and you conceded, unsure of how much you could push the issue since he was your senior.

Before you knew it, the weekend and Class 1-A's break was over. It had been four days since you ran into Ojiro and you couldn't lie. You missed him.

Badly.

Aiawa had classes to teach and you were looking forward to seeing Ojiro and Yaoyorozu and the other girls again.

For the past few days, he hadn't let you leave the motel room.

The innkeeper, who you learned his name was Jin, often came to keep you company when you requested some food. You felt bad for making him do so much work but he never seemed to mind it. In fact, he rather seemed happy to have someone to talk to.

You were supposed to leave at the same time as Aizawa the day classes resumed but were so taken with the invention of the bathtub on the way out that he had to leave before you. Heaven forbid he got fired because he was late in helping you figure out how a shower worked.

Which is why you were confused when he kept finding excuses to stay longer until he admitted to being uneasy leaving you to walk to UA alone. You teased him and he rolled his eyes. But in all seriousness, who was going to try their luck in broad daylight?

No one was going to snatch you in front of a bunch of people.

He had nothing to worry about.

After a very long and thorough lecture of safety he hammered into your head to keep the door locked at all times and to stay away from the windows, only to follow it up with all the emergency protocols you were to follow if you were being followed or attacked.

To be honest, you nodded your head through it to show that you were listening just to appease him.

He finally left an hour later and you were free to do what you wished without him quietly worrying away in the corner that you were going to hurt yourself.

It was becoming a known thing that despite your keen wolf senses, you were very clumsy.

Aizawa found it oddly amusing and horrifying at the same time.

Deciding a bath was in order, you filled up the tub with warm water, washing away all the grime and blood that had accumulated over time with a soft hum of contentment.

Once that was done, you got dressed and finally left, bidding the Jin, who was at the counter a warm farewell and thanking him for the many meals.

He waved goodbye to you, telling you he hoped you would come back and visit soon even if it wasn't to stay at the inn and you nodded eagerly, promising to visit him in the future.

You skipped down the pavement, making sure your ears were sufficiently hidden under the hood and tail tucked away thanks to the excessive length of the huge sweatshirt. You thanked the heavens above that you had been born with normal eyes.

The last thing you wanted was to have to wear sunglasses all the time.

Three hours later, you were standing out the gates of the school, completely smushed against the security gate and getting trampled on by the press in their chaos to try and find a way to break in.

Geez, their persistence was annoying.

You would've gone another way if you knew one. This was the only route in and out of the school as far as you were aware.

Squealing when you took a tumble as someone shoved you a little too hard, you winced as you tried to catch yourself from falling, only to scrape your knees when you landed on the rough cement.

Ouch... You grimaced, pulling down on your hood to ensure that it wouldn't slip off and expose your ears. That one hurt.

Puffing out your cheeks, you concluded you weren't going to get anywhere so long as they were here. You took your chances, taking off for Heights Alliance.

Just as you thought, the building was locked but you sniffed the air, eyes lighting up as you spotted the same boy from last week. You had caught him talking to Ojiro before and he had taken the liberty of introducing the two of you. He was sitting on the front steps with a somewhat distant look in his eyes and a small notebook in his hands.

"Midoriya-san!!"

He turned at the sound of your voice, visibly lighting up when he saw you.

"Y/N-chan!!" He greeted enthusiastically, then dropped his hand in concern at your disheveled appearance and bloodied knees, running out to meet you. "What happened?!"

"Ah," You winced, flashing him a canine smile full of guilt as if it was your fault you got hurt. "I got pushed around by those people crowding the front."

Pulling a key from his pocket, the boy laughed along with you before unlocking the front door. "Aizawa-sensei tells us not to talk to them, but I'm pretty sure Kacchan has threatened them before."

You tilted your head, puzzled. "Kacchan?"

That name didn't ring a bell.

He enthusiastically explained the rivalry of his childhood friend as he navigated you through the common area. You sympathized with his story, listening attentively when he mentioned how desperately he wanted to be friends with him and admired him.

Ah, so Kacchan was the explosive pomeranian.

You smiled when he told you that recently things were starting to change between them and hugged him happily when he mentioned that maybe they would finally get to be friends one day.

"How are you so nice to him after he tormented you like that?" You asked, genuinely curious and in awe at how his bullying didn't harden his heart.

Midoriya shuffled towards the kitchen. "Kacchan acts mean but he really isn't. He's really strong so I think he just doesn't want to look weak."

His thoughts rang through your head and you fell silent when he didn't elaborate.

Actions speak louder than words, huh?

Sitting down on one of the couches, you followed him with your eyes as he rummaged through something under the sink. "What are you doing? And aren't you supposed to be in class?"

He straightened up with a small huff, cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Ah, well, they're training today and Aizawa-sensei says I'm not allowed to participate until I learn how to fight without injuring myself."

You tapped a finger to your chin as he came over with a duffle bag in his hand, sitting a respectable distance away from you. "But if you don't train, then how will you get there?"

Midoriya just smiled easily, eyes turning into crescents. "He doesn't really mean that but today he actually wanted me to make sure you got here okay."

You jolted at that.

"He what?!"

"Yeah," His brow furrowed but then smoothed over once he found what he was looking for. "I know it probably seems like Aizawa-sensei doesn't care that much but he actually does, and a lot, for us."

He told you about the USJ incident and the lengths he had gone to protect them when the League attacked.

You were speechless. Sure, this was not that new to you since you had experienced his rugged, begrudging version of kindness over the past couple of days but to have someone go out of their way to make sure you were safe and for them to actually agree to it was a whole other thing.

To hear that you weren't the only one who experienced that side of him made your heart feel warm.

Aww... he's such a softie.

"Ojiro-kun wanted to do it but Sensei said he needed to work with Ectoplasm on his tail movements." Midoriya explained, not noticing the pink that dusted your cheeks as he mentioned his name. "Here."

Blinking, you stared at him for a beat before you realized he was holding something out to you. "Oh!!"

You took the pair of athletic sweatpants with a questioning glance. "What are these for?"

He blushed, stammering. He didn't think he would have to explain it. "W-Well, y-you know, Yaoyorozu-san always k-keeps an emergency bag for these kinds of things and I-I don't think she would mind."

You giggled and his nerves faded a little in wake of your bright laughter. He gave you some band-aids and ointment to apply on your scrapes after you cleaned it.

"That's really thoughtful, thank you." You said.

He scratched the back of his neck shyly, matching your smile before packing away the rest of the things while you went to go change.

Fortunately for you, the slight injury wasn't severe. There was only a slight discoloration from where you had impacted the pavement surrounding the patches where a couple layers of skin had come off.

As soon as you finished taking care of it and put on the pants he had given you over your usual shorts, you exited the bathroom only to find Midoriya in the same place you had left him.

"So, class?" You asked, now that he had fulfilled his mission from Aizawa.

He smiled sheepishly, holding up his phone. "Ah, about that..."

Apparently, the police were held up by traffic at the moment and couldn't deal with the press that were still disrupting the students and staff. One had been foolish enough to try and cross the sensor without a pass, causing the UA barrier to activate. No one could get in or out for the time being.

Since they just built the dorms recently, the teachers were working to extend the barrier around the new buildings but it hasn't been finished yet. Instead, Cementoss created a high wall to keep outsiders out while the finishing touches would be put in place.

So while you couldn't go to school, you also couldn't go anywhere else.

Midoriya sighed, looking awfully forlorn. "I'm sorry, Y/N-san. It looks like we'll be here for a while."

"That's okay!!" You cheered, plopping down next to him, not wanting to see him so sad. "This will give us some time to talk, right? What's your story?"

He was surprised you were able to let go of it so quickly since you seemed so eager to see his classmates, then shook his head as confusion hit him like a truck. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what made you want to go here?" You asked, tucking up your knees and resting your chin on top of your knees. "Why do you want to be a hero?"

The look that crossed his face was one of unbridled joy and determination as he launched into his story after hearing that you wanted to know about him. That look in his eyes only grew brighter the more excited he got and his energy was contagious.

You couldn't help but cheer along at his moments of triumph as he relived the memories.

It connected into him showing you his notebook where he wrote down everything about all sorts of heroes once you asked him how he managed to keep track of everything he had told you in his brain.

The two of you were so engaged with your conversation, hunched over the coffee table as he tore through his notes that neither one of you heard the front door open.

But the loud chatter that flooded the common floor had you both springing to your feet in an instant.

"Welcome back, everyone!!" Midoriya greeted enthusiastically as his peers crashed the party. "Y/N-chan is here!!"

You smiled happily as Ashido launched herself at you, smothering you in a hug.

"Y/N-chan, you're back!!" She shouted excitedly. "Yayy!!!"

"I hope it's alright that I'm borrowing these." You tugged on one of your ears self-consciously as Yaoyorozu greeted you just as warmly. "There was a minor incident earlier."

The raven-haired girl waved you off automatically. "Of course it is!! That's what it's there for after all. You can keep those, I'll replace them later."

Jaw dropping open in surprise at how cool she was, you just managed to catch Uraraka as she flew at you at breaknecking speed. You returned her hug, smiling and bobbing your head along with her as she caught you up on all the latest things that had happened since you were gone after making sure you were okay.

It was almost weird. Almost like you fit right in.

You had only met them once last week and yet they were all so eager to befriend you. You thought you should've been more wary of them but they didn't seem to mean you any harm. Your gaze eagerly scanned for Ojiro, only for your tail to droop slightly when you didn't see him.

Hagakure giggled, picking up on your disappointment. "Aizawa-sensei asked him to stay behind for extra lessons today, but he'll be back later~"

If the invisible girl was visible, you were almost sure you would've seen her wink.

After that energetic yet warm welcome, you were ushered further inside as the boys took over the common space to hash out some friendly competition through a game of Smash.

Bakugou was banned, he broke one too many controllers in his fit of rage last time.

You stumbled through the hallways and jittered nervously as you and the girls took the elevator up to Yaoyorozu's room.

It was rather cramped, given that all her furniture was a lot bigger than her bedroom could handle but that just meant you all could sit in a circle on her enormous bed.

Hagakure eagerly asked if she could paint your nails to which you stammered out you weren't exactly sure what that meant.

An array of shocked gasps had the girls scrambling in a flurry to grab anything and everything needed for an evening of relaxation. Jirou even grabbed her guitar while Yaoyorozu left to go make some tea. Uraraka got to work on detangling your hair, in awe of your fluffy ears. The two of you were caught giggling hysterically as Asui came through the door with the elder girl balancing a tea tray in tow.

The next couple hours consisted of you getting to know Asui better, the frog girl preferring you call her by her first name, Tsuyu, and the girls spoiling you rotten, completely ignoring the fact that they had homework due tomorrow.

You were floored.

Your stomach started to growl and your cheeks pinked when Ashido shrieked at how adorable you were.

Jirou just barely stopped herself from smacking her friend, you were clearly hungry.

Yaoyorozu asked if you would like something to eat and you bowed your head, folding your hands in your lap.

"... If... If it's not too much to ask for." You said quietly.

Yaoyorozu cooed and Hagakure squealed, practically dragging you out of the room and back downstairs. Uraraka and Jirou stayed behind, needing to get to work on a project that wasn't due until the end of the year, but wanting to get started on it now so that they didn't have to do it later.

Midoriya was nowhere to be seen once you got downstairs, but the other boys hadn't moved since you had last seen them with a few exceptions.

Kirishima and Kaminari were still lounging in the same spot but had turned the TV off and had textbooks spread out before them.

Shoji, Aoyama and Iida were in the adjacent corner, all three of them looking up when Ashido bounded over to them.

Asui went over to where Tokoyami was studying, and the two of them started studying for Midnight's upcoming exam.

Sato was in the kitchen when Yaoyorozu came in, greeting her politely when she asked if he could help her make something for you to eat. He blushed a bit, saying how he didn't have much experience cooking since he was more proficient in sweets but that he could try.

"What's going on?"

You turned around at the unfamiliar voice as Yaoyorozu greeted him, with a slight twinge of relief in her tone.

"Todoroki-san!!" Yaoyorozu smiled. "Do you know how to make any meals? Y/N-chan is hungry."

The boy with two-toned hair debated the situation, brow knitting in concentration.

"I'm not sure." He said slowly.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to make you something satisfactory. He really only liked to eat one thing and therefore only knew how to make that well.

"Do you like soba?" He asked you.

You tilted your head, the word not ringing any bells. "What's that?"

Todoroki cracked a small smile at your curiosity, then pushed up his sleeves and immediately got to work alongside Sato while Yaoyorozu fetched what he needed.

You wanted to help them but seeing as how you had no idea what it was or what they were doing, you decided to leave them to it. Sitting on the same stool at the kitchen island as the first night when you came here, you interjected occasionally to grab something they seemed to be looking for in an attempt to not be entirely useless.

Sato was the one to reassure you that there wasn't much to do in preparing it and that your food would be done soon.

Five minutes later, Todoroki was pushing a bowl of hot soba towards you. Sesame and ginger wafted through the air from the broth and your nose scrunched up cutely, bright eyes going wide as you salivated.

"It smells really good!!" You cheered.

A subtle but relieved smile made its way onto his face at the compliment and he handed you a pair of chopsticks. You had been fed hot food so rarely you weren't used to cooling it down before you ate it. You dived in, recalling Aizawa's instructions from before and blowing on it first before tentatively taking a bite.

They were really tasty for something that looked so simple.

You beamed, soup dribbling down the side of your chin once you tasted it. "Thank you, Todoroki-san, Sato-san, Yaoyorozu-chan!!"

The boys bowed while the girl diligently wiped your chin with a napkin and patted your head, happy you liked it.

Content that your needs had been satisfied, Yaoyorozu asked if you wanted anything else before she got started on her homework for the night. You shook your head, thanking her once more before she left, Todoroki following not long after.

Finishing your soba, you watched curiously as Sato whisked something together in a large bowl, checking on the paper on the counter before pressing a couple of buttons on the oven.

"Whatcha doing?" You asked, nose twitching,

His gaze flickered up to yours and he smiled. "I'm making a chiffon cake. Would you like to try it once it's done?"

You beamed, practically drooling at the thought of it already. "Yes, please!!"

The aromatic scent of chocolate hazelnut made your mouth water as he pulled it out of the oven.

He made casual conversation with you as you stared longingly at the cake that had to set first before he cut it. You were surprised to find out that he liked baking more than cooking but nodded your head understandingly when he explained his quirk to you.

"That's so cool!!" You exclaimed, flapping your hands excitedly. "You convert all of that into power and it makes you stronger?!"

"Yes, but it doesn't last very long." Sato told you as he sliced the confection carefully. "And my brain doesn't work as well but it is quite handy to have in a difficult situation if I have some snacks on hand."

Your eyes lit up when he handed a generous slice to you on a plate rimmed with cherry blossoms. It almost looked too good to eat.

Almost.

You waited until he got back from distributing it to his peers who were still in various spots on the common floor before sharing it with him so you could eat it together. Of course he didn't remember to save any for him.

"Isn't this a lot of work?" You mumbled around a mouthful of cake as he explained how he'd been trying all sorts of new recipes. "Doesn't it get tiring?"

Sato nodded, cleaning up his work space and grabbing new bowls from the cabinets. "Yeah but it's worth it since it helps me with my quirk. Besides, I get to share it with everyone when they're done."

You giggled, pointing at him with your fork. "Yes, that's definitely a plus."

A hearty guffaw erupted from his lungs, causing several others to look over in your direction but your smile only grew wider.

You made someone laugh. Really laugh. It made warmth bloom in your chest and you kicked your feet happily, chomping on the last bit of cake with a blissed out look on your face that was equal parts from the confection and your new friend.

He might've looked intimidating but he was nothing but kind.

The front door cracked open and your head turned at the various greetings that came from around the shared space had your eyes widening.

You dropped your fork and it clattered on the countertop of the kitchen island.

"Ojiro-san!!"

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel​

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #13: can we always be this close? - Mirio Togata

In which you and Mirio spend a very romantic birthday evening together.

Characters: Mirio Togata / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!) Quirkless Mirio, aged up characters, fluffy smut, fluffy fluff, this is tooth-achingly syrupy, with the barest edge of heartfelt angst. Boxed-birthday cake sweet.

Notes: It’s my birthday today. This is extremely feelsy and self-indulgent. I offer no apology.

Title inspired by this song.

Kinktober Masterlist

“Are you almost ready? Seriously gonna explode out here.”

You’re putting the last finishing touches on your hair as Mirio knocks on the bathroom door. Bless his heart, he’s been nice enough to give you full reign of the bathroom for the last hour and a half for the sake of your big reveal when you’re finally ready to go.

But you know Mirio well- big heart, small bladder.

“I’m coming!” You promise. “Thirty seconds and I’m outta here.” You take one last spritz of hairspray through your style, tousling the strands gently with your fingers. Then you unplug your styling tools, smooth on your favourite lipstick (the one that makes you look ‘the most kissable,’ according to Mirio) and pivot toward the door.

Your fingers hover over the handle for an instant. You take a deep breath.

When you pull the door open, Mirio’s standing directly on the other side of it. He looks polished as hell in a pair of well-fitting dark wash jeans and a turtleneck sweater that you bought him last winter. Your heart goes squish as you brace one hand in the frame of the door and watch his expression light at the sight of you.

“Aw, man,” he hums. His eyelashes flick downward as he takes you in. You’re dressed in the same fashion that he is- casual but polished, in a way that makes you feel the most comfortable and beautiful in your own skin.

“You sure it’s not my birthday?” He reaches for you, pulling you closer by the wrist. “’Cause lemme tell ya, that was worth waiting for.” He leans down and goes for a kiss, ducking sideways at the last moment to catch the corner of your mouth instead.

“Get in there,” you giggle, gently brushing past him and ushering him into the bathroom. “I’m hungry.”

Tonight’s dinner is something that Mirio insisted on. While the company you work for normally gives you a day off for your birthday, this year, yours happened to fall in the middle of the week. You decided to defer your day off until Friday, giving you a long weekend to enjoy instead. It means you still had to work on the actual day, but… you don’t mind. Not when Mirio’s been treating you like a princess from the moment you woke up.

He even stopped by your office earlier to drop off your favourite takeout for lunch. All your coworkers know him- he visits you at work a lot- and they’re completely smitten. You can’t help but adore how likeable he is, even if it tries your envious nerve every once in a while.

Your friends joke that he’s more like a golden retriever than a partner. But you know it goes both ways. You would do anything in the world for him.

You hold hands on the train like a new couple all over again, leaning against the doors and kissing between stops. You don’t care who sees. Mirio’s thrilled to be getting away with so much PDA. And when your stop finally comes up, you’re still grinning as you tug him onto the platform.

He takes you to your favourite restaurant, a ramen place downtown. You get potato dashi ramen, which comes with chewy egg noodles and a scoop of sour cream. It’s like a baked potato in a bowl of noodles. You know it’s not exactly the romantic evening that most couples would have planned, but there’s nothing that brings you more joy than cozying up in a little table by the window and slurping away on hot broth and noodles with Mirio smiling across at you.

As you’re finishing up, a slice of white chocolate cheesecake with a sparkler (and two forks) comes to your table. Mirio swears he had nothing to do with it, but he adores embarrassing you on your birthday. And the sparkle behind his navy gaze is a dead giveaway.  

It’s not until after you’ve both scraped the plate clean and you’re holding hands across the table that you decide to forgive him.

He’s brushing his thumb over your ring finger, toying back and forth with the sparkly diamond that sits there.

“Y’know,” he muses, “I was actually planning on saving that for tonight.”

You’re resting your chin in your other hand, but that doesn’t stop you from grinning. “Really?”

He nods, licking his lips to hide an indulgent smile. “I carried that thing around in my pocket for weeks. But then, when you said there was gonna be an eclipse…” He trails off and shrugs, smiling brighter. “It’s like it all fell into place.”

A couple of weeks ago, the moon fell into the Earth’s shadow for the first time in years. It was a beautiful clear night and just warm enough that the two of you could climb to the roof of your apartment building and huddle together under a couple of blankets.

It was there, under the dim glow of the eclipsed moon, that he’d dropped to one knee and promised you forever. To you, it was a complete surprise.

You’re still moony about it now. If you close your eyes, you can picture every single detail. But when you open them again, the look on Mirio’s face is not so different as he admires you across the table.

“It was perfect,” you told him. “That night was perfect.”

He pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your ring. “C’mon,” he mumbles. “Let’s get outta here.”

He takes you home and skirts you in the front door. Your apartment is still dark when he strokes your cheeks and kisses you, lingering and sweet in the hallway.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he whispers to you, soft and vulnerable in the low light.

“I love you,” you murmur, holding him tight. He gets like this sometimes. He’s lost so much, it’s easy to imagine you slipping through his fingers, too. You know he’s trying hard not to let it show tonight but you’re not about to let that stop you. You reach for him, cupping his cheek and pulling his shadowy gaze to yours.

“Hey,” you whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he huffs, stealing another kiss as he scoops you into his arms. He whisks you into the bedroom, laying you across the sheets. He flicks on the lamp by your bedside and it casts a warm blanket of light across your body.

His weight descends on top of you and you catch yourself thinking if this is it, if nothing comes after this life with him, I’ll be okay.

He strips you down, piece by piece, kissing every inch of the skin he’s exposing. Every moment you spend together feels precious- you’ve both been reminded, time and time again, how quickly it can all be stolen from you. Not this, you pray when the night is at its darkest, take anything, but let me have him.

“Let me love you,” he whispers to you, sliding down your bare body, “with everything I have tonight.”

He loops his arms under your thighs, nuzzling the soft skin where your leg joins your body. His eyes stray to your face as he licks up your slit. He watches you sigh, watches you shiver, watches you fall.

But he’s always there to catch you.

He licks until you’re begging him to stop and comes back to you bare. His body is strong and sculpted but scarred, serving as a solemn reminder of the life he was forced to give up. Just another dream that had been stolen from him.

But you, the life that you’re capable of building together- that’s become his new dream. He’s promised to love you completely. He wants to raise your children. He wants to build you a home. Maybe he’ll never save a million souls, but if he can bring you happiness, if he can be good for you, that’ll be enough.

When you’re finally ready for him, he keeps his body as close to yours as possible while he pushes inside you. One of his hands grips your thigh, but the other is intertwined with yours, smoothing across the bedsheets as his thumb strokes your knuckles.

He’s steady and strong, but tender as a lamb, whispering his love for you as he fucks you slow and rhythmic. You clutch at his back and grab his ass, urging his rhythm forward. But he keeps it easy until he can’t take it anymore.

And when he breaks, he breaks hard.

He thrusts into you with a brutal rhythm, letting all the words die between you. The harsh breath that you share is punctuated by the slap of his thighs against yours. He slips a hand between your bodies, driving you to the edge one more time- whimpering and sighing and quivering through your climax- before he can’t hold out and slips into ecstasy alongside you.

When he loses himself against you, you hold him tight and savour every moment. The tremor of his thighs against yours. The way his voice jumps from his chest to his throat as his expression scrunches into one of sheer ecstasy. The spill of sloppy warmth inside you-sinfully satisfying. But more precious than anything is the way that he collapses on top of you and peppers slow, sweaty kisses across your skin before he’s ready to pull out.

When he finally rolls off of you, you’re quick to shift onto your side, reaching for him. You wind your arms around one another, and he draws you in close, letting you rest your chin on top of his head as your legs tangle.

“Happy Birthday,” he mumbles into your neck, for only the dozenth time that day. You close your eyes and try to suppress your laugh, but you know he can feel it vibrating in your chest.

“What a time to remind me,” you tease. “I’m getting old.”

“Oh!” He bolts upright, suddenly alert. “Your present, baby.”

“No way. Give it to me tomorrow,” you hum. “I’m not letting you out of bed.”

“But…” He turns back to you, pouting. “I can’t give it to you a day late. That’s like… like I missed it.”

“How about…” you trail off, “I open it first thing in the morning. You’ll know and I’ll know. Nobody else will. Please? I’m so comfy.”

Satisfied, he settles down again. This time it’s your head he tucks under his chin, kissing the top of your head.

Later that night, moments from sleep, you feel him stir in your arms. He kisses your head again, wraps his fingers gently around your palm. You don’t move.

“Happy birthday, baby,” he whispers to you. “I’m the luckiest man in the world, y’know that?”

You drop off a few minutes later in total peace. It’s not something you ever thought you would have, but… with him, it comes as easy as the morning.

[jaskiersvalley]

So idk if you'd be interested but I had the idea of like the witchers when they were still lil maybe before the mutations or maybe right after and lil lambert having a nightmare and lil geralt and lil eskel giving him a cuddle and making him feel better

I’ve not been able to get the idea of little witchers out of my head since you sent this in, Nonnie! And finally, I have an idea that I feel is good enough for this prompt - might lack a little on a literal nightmare but...hopefully the rest of it makes up for it. :D

The winter at Kaer Morhen was more lively than it had been in decades. It wasn’t just the usual four witchers there, this time Jaskier was there and Yennefer too. It was noisy, for want of a better word. With Jaskier around, there was always laughter and music. Even if he wasn’t the one making racket, he had a wonderful knack for inspiring the others to revert to something more lighthearted.

Truthfully, it was a little tiring. Lambert, Eskel and even Geralt had a habit of becoming so much more animated. It wasn’t a bad thing by any means but Vesemir did miss the quiet of the keep, the warm nights where they were all settled by a fire and reading or playing gwent in relative silence. Now, there was an almost constant jesting, scuffling and running around that was worse than when they were children. So, really, Vesemir couldn’t be blamed when he announced he was going to go hunting for a few days. He wasn’t running away. Simply, he was taking a breather and enjoying the silent solitude of the mountain. It wasn’t like he was leaving behind literal children, they could keep everything ticking over while he was gone. As planned, he left.

Breakfast without Vesemir was unusual. Lambert sat opposite Geralt and Yennefer who was trying her best to ignore the bickering and the fact that Jaskier’s swinging legs were kicking her ankle every few seconds. They were noisy, ribbing each other, Lambert was trying to cram a whole egg in his mouth while Jaskier was trying to make him laugh so he couldn’t do it.

“You’d look more graceful gargling a ballsack,” Eskel barked on a laugh and nudged Yennefer who was next to him. “Trust me on this one, I know.”

Obviously his comment hit its mark because Lambert threw a half eaten slice of toast coated in jam at him. Only a quick aard stopped it from splattering on Eskel. However, it instead ended up, jam side down, on Yennefer’s shoulder and hair. Silence engulfed the room as everyone watched her reaction. Without a word, she stood up and stalked out.

“Yennefer! Wait!” Jaskier was up and after her, knowing that of the lot, he would have the greatest chance of appeasing her (and probably most capable of getting jam out of hair with minimal pain).

Just outside the hall, Yennefer spun on her heel and glared at him. Not that it made much of a difference, Jaskier had grown immune to most glares and threats over the years.

“They were just having fun,” Jaskier tried to appease. “They’re home, relaxed and without the pressing worries of the Path. Childhood home and all that.”

There was a glint in Yennefer’s eyes and her smile held nothing nice. “Exactly like children,” she nodded. “They can be as they behave.”

Stepping around Jaskier, she carelessly flung a bright purple spell into the hall and turned to Jaskier. “Have fun with the kids.” Before he had a chance to ask, she opened up at portal and walked away without a backward glance.

“Shit.” Jaskier tried to listen through the door before he returned, wondering whether he’ll find three witchers knocked out or turned into goats. In the end, it was so much worse than that. Because when Jaskier returned to the hall, he wasn’t greeted by goats. Not even three idiots asleep, face first in their food. Instead, three sets of large, terrified eyes peered up at him from shirts that were too large.

Eskel and Geralt couldn’t have been more than five while Lambert was probably about three. They watched Jaskier walk in and backed away, distrust and fear clear in their little faces. It broke Jaskier’s heart.

“It’s okay,” Jaskier dropped his voice to something soft and gentle and he crouched down. “I’m a friend.”

They were obviously children but some of their memories must have remained because Geralt suddenly made a run for him, arms out stretched and a cry of “Jaskier!” as he barrelled into the bard. It was only because he was so small and light that they didn’t go toppling over.

“You’re alright, Geralt,” Jaskier soothed as he wrapped arms around the tiny witcher who was utterly swamped in his old shirt. “You two okay?” he asked Lambert and Eskel, standing up. What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was for Lambert’s lips to wobble precariously as he backed away, tripping on his own shirt. The wail of distress was only made worse when Eskel pulled himself up to his full height and bravely stood between Jaskier and Lambert without a word. He was quivering and shaking, turning a little from Jaskier but standing his ground all the same.

“Oh sweethearts,” Jaskier breathed. He crouched down and extended an arm for Eskel too. “I’ll look after you all.”

Turning away, Eskel reached a hand for Lambert and pushed him up. While keeping a tight grip on him, he edged closer to Jaskier. Close enough, Eskel made a quick dash and wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s neck while Lambert tentatively took hold of the outstretched hand.

Three baby witchers wrapped around him, Jaskier looked around and sighed. It wasn’t going to be easy and he silently cursed Yennefer’s vindictive ways. There was no telling how long the spell would last or when she or Vesemir would be back. For a change, Jaskier had to be the adult and the one to look after everyone else. The first challenge was standing up with three child witchers in his arms. With a groan and a heave, he managed and staggered over to the table.

“Right, we need to make sure you’re all fed.” He knew next to nothing about children and diets but he suspected that the mead on the table was a no go. Adult witchers might be idiots to drink at breakfast but Jaskier wasn’t. He pushed that out of reach and looked at the rest of the table. “Jam toast, who’d like some?”

Three small hands shot up immediately. Which was a good sign, surely. Pulling the bread close, Jaskier cut three slices and made sure the witchers stayed in their seats while he toasted the bread. Once it was lightly brown and crispy, Jaskier returned and was surprised to find Eskel had already managed to grab the jam jar and was wielding a knife.

As alarming as it was to see a small child with a knife, Jaskier let him put jam on his own toast while he sorted the ones for Lambert and Geralt. Only, Eskel seemed to have beaten him to it, the toast now sticky with lumps of jam was pushed towards Lambert who picked it up, uncaring of getting his hands messy.

“That was very kind, Eskel,” Jaskier said and passed him another slice of toast while giving Geralt one too. He watched them eat, smiled at Geralt’s polite “thank you”. So far, he’d heard Lambert cry and Geralt speak yet Eskel remained oddly silent.

Washing three sticky and squirming witchers was a task and a half. Jaskier was reluctant to let them out of his sight, not trusting them around the crumbling old keep. But they seemed determined to run around like children were wont to do. Tidying away the breakfast table, Jaskier watched them and realised something that made him sit down for a moment. For all their play, there wasn’t a single bit of laughter. There was a wariness to all three, they were protective of each other. While they remembered Jaskier to a certain extent, they seemed stuck in a limbo between being true children and people who have experienced a century of horror. It didn’t bear thinking about, what they could remember and how their current state allowed for the processing of it.

Not that Jaskier had to wonder for long. All too soon the three little terrors had quieted down, looking sleepy. Which meant it was probably time for a nap.

“Come on, you lot,” Jaskier herded them towards their bedrooms. “Afternoon nap.”

It would mean he got to at least prepare dinner without having to worry. Geralt’s bedroom was the first and Jaskier tucked him in, unable to miss out on a kiss to his forehead. Next was Lambert who kicked up at little fuss but Jaskier twisted the corner of a throw into a makeshift cuddly toy and he watched as Lambert shoved the tip in his mouth, eyes drooping. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find Lambert sucking his thumb when he fell asleep. Last was Eskel who was still as silent as before. He clutched at Jaskier’s hand, obviously reluctant to be left alone to sleep but it had to happen. Jaskier had other things to do.

First things first, Jaskier returned to his room. He cast his lute a longing glance but knew it wasn’t right. Looking after three child witchers was exhausting, he sat down on his bed heavily and tried to figure out what to do next. Dinner preparations. Maybe find a storybook in the library. It was easier to think with his eyes closed. And if he lay down for just a minute, to rest while he plotted out a course of action. The bed was soft and warm, he could safely think there.

Jaskier jolted awake to the sound of wailing. It was an utterly terrified child crying tears of distress. Stumbling out, Jaskier rushed towards the noise coming from Lambert’s room. The door was already open and he blinked to see Lambert, tear streaked face red and mouth curved down into the unhappiest of frowns. However, Eskel was hugging him from one side while Geralt was clambering up onto the bed too.

“Bad dream?” Jaskier asked and he perched on the edge of the bed. He didn’t expect Lambert to nod.

“Big monster.” His voice wobbled and fresh tears sprung up. “It bit me. Wanted to eat me.”

It was all too easy to reach for the bundle of witchers and pull them in for a cuddle. Lambert sniffled and described the monster while Geralt looked at him and nodded along.

“Kikimora.” Geralt suddenly said. “That’s what tried to eat you. It bit me once too.”

Jaskier could see the confusion on Geralt as he said it, the war of memory versus his current state made him frown. Especially when he peered at his shoulder where Jaskier knew he had a scar which wasn’t there in his current form.

“You’re very brave for not letting it eat you,” Jaskier added, stroking through Lambert’s hair. “How about we go down to the hall again? I could tell you a story.”

Keeping Lambert in his arm, Jaskier led the way, one hand holding Eskel’s while Geralt kept his fisted in his breeches. The fire had died down and the room was cooling. Jaskier would need to rekindle it but before he had a chance, Eskel raised a hand in a familiar sign and a powerful burst of flames shot out. It was a little too much, flames raced up the walls for a moment before dying down.

“Good job!” Jaskier said all the same. He knew witchers could cast signs but he’d never seen one so powerful.

They settled on the throws and Jaskier tried to think of old tales that would be suitable for children. Preferably none with monsters or anything that could upset them. His pickings were slim but he finally found one, a noble night and his horse on a quest to retrieve the crown for the king. It was easy enough to change a few details, come up with pit filled with spikes to swing over using vines rather than hyrda’s thousand heads hissing in a pit. All three witchers listened raptly, eyes large, gasping at all the tense bits and Lambert let out a little cheer when the knight got to the crown.

Dinner was a simple affair. Jaskier found some cured meats and fruits. While the three ate, he went to get his lute. They could have a quiet evening together. Really, the witchers were already drooping into their plates. It was kind of adorable.

Settling them on the rugs, Jaskier piled blankets and pillows around them, fussing to get them comfortable. Once they were settled into a cuddle pile, he picked up his lute and began to play. Slowly, the songs morphed from nursery rhymes to lullabies and the witchers fell asleep one by one. Placing his lute to the side, Jaskier tucked them in securely and smiled. They looked so peaceful and cute when asleep. Plus, he had been right, Lambert did suck his thumb. Grabbing a fur, Jaskier settled down and fell asleep, knowing that he would wake if anything happened over night.

Nothing did happen and Jaskier woke to the sound of the door slamming shut in the morning.

“What the hell?” Vesemir’s voice was full of disbelief, a deer slung over his shoulders and a handful of quails and rabbits hanging from his hands.

“I can explain!” Jaskier mumbled as he sat up. The witchers were quicker though and they were all backing away from Vesemir as he approached. Geralt pulled Lambert behind Jaskier while Eskel charged. With all the determination and bravery of a child, he stomped up to Vesemir and kicked him in the ankle before turning and running to hide behind Jaskier, clutching at Lambert.

Obviously, on some level they remembered the Vesemir had trained them. Jaskier didn’t know the full level of his involvement in creating witchers but the three cowering behind him told him enough.

“Yennefer got pissed off yesterday morning,” Jaskier offered with a hopeful look. “Maybe the spell will wear off.”

“I’ll get the potion to break the spell ready. You get them each a mug of warm milk.” With that, Vesemir walked to the pantry, dumped his collection on the ground and left.

Orders given, Jaskier set about getting things ready. He settled the three witchers at the table, put some fruits in front of them to snack on so he could warm up milk and pour it into mugs. By the time he was tipping the saucepan over the mugs, Vesemir had reappeared with a vial in hand.

“How have they been?”

“Fine. Minus the nightmares. Eskel hasn’t said anything though. But he has one hell of an igni.”

A world weary sigh left Vesemir. “That’s them for you. Geralt was always polite and well behaved. Eskel was all but mute until long after the trials. We knew he could speak but he only did that with Geralt, Lambert and a few others. Being more magically inclined, he had a knack for all the signs. Meanwhile, Lambert was, well, nobody expected him to survive the trials.”

“I hope you never told him that.” The look Vesemir gave Jaskier told him everything. “Well then, let’s get them back to how they should be, right?”

Three mugs, each with two drops of the potion. It turned the milk a vibrant yellow. Vesemir’s “at least it will taste sweet” was only mildly reassuring. None of the witchers let Vesemir approach so Jaskier set down two mugs then turned to take the third from him.

“You need to drink it to be big, strong witchers,” he said. There was a reluctance from the three until Geralt piped up.

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” Vesemir was cast suspicious looks and nobody touched their mugs.

“It shouldn’t,” Jaskier said and that seemed to ease things a little. “If it does, I’ll be here to help.”

Hesitantly, Geralt reached for his mug, too trusting. He took a sip and his eyes widened in delight before starting to chug it with childish delight. Taking his lead the other two picked up their mugs and drank too.

At first nothing happened and Jaskier looked nervously to Vesemir. Then he saw Geralt’s face fall into a frown, a hand going to his stomach. There was a soft poof of smoke and the next moment Geralt was sat there in his scarred, adult form. Two more puffs and Lambert and Eskel were back. They all blinked owlishly, looked at each other then at Jaskier and Vesemir.

“Oh fuck,” Eskel gasped, a hand flying to his mouth. “I kicked Vesemir in the ankle.”

“Just don’t do it now and I’ll forgive you,” Vesemir smiled. “Everyone alright?”

Three mute nods were his reply and everyone tried to make sense of what had happened over the course of the last day. While there was a silent agreement that they would never mention it again, Vesemir wasn’t surprised to find the four of them in a pile in front of the fire come evening. He didn’t even roll his eye when he saw Lambert hadn’t yet managed to shake his old habit of sucking his thumb.

[avery-allyss]

I guess this could be worse.

The assignment was to create a design based off of one or more creation myths. I have little hints of several because copying something too closely seems redundant. Yes it a bit of a confusing jumble and you need to stretch a lil to pick up all the references, but I like it that way.

Egg shape is from several myths, mainly because my favorite myth is the Finnish creation myth, which is also the source of the duck. I'll get more into that further down in the reflective portion of this post.

The yin/yang base for the devision of the egg is from Asia. The concept is more into the description of the energies, the yang being masculine firey intenseness of light, and the yin being the quite coolness of darkness.

The volcano ang glacier are derived from Norse mythology, and I played with the idea of making some sort of root system in the line separating the two to represent the beginning of yggdrasil.

The reeds and cat are from the native American myth. Something about a Reed carrying the founders through worlds, and loosing a war to cat people? It stuck in my mind.

This is the second time I've ever done print making, the first was over ten years ago and stamping a smaller design on an extra large Tshirt I still use as pjs.

The entire process was a mess.

We had one linoleum panel to work with. We had to carve away each color we wanted to keep.

I started slow because the white and yellow layers were so complicated.

I miss measured the paper size so the back of all four copies are a mess.

I made four copies, and every one had a different mystake. The one showed was the only one that the cat showed up on.

I fucked up carving alot, I just got good at covering it up.

The duck has no bill. I tried to make up for it by giving them an intentional halo, it didn't quite work.

The reeds are too short. This actually gives off a slightly more organic vibe than I was going for. I'm not quite sure if I like it.

One of the sun swirls is broken up a bit because my hand sliped.

The blue layer was off and ended up giving the volcano some highlight. It pops a little until you realize it's out of place, so I don't like it.

Printed red through black in one day, my entire arm hates me still. I had my entire arm tensed to prevent slip ups. It's not so bad right now because my mom told me which med to take today, but I couldn't sleep on that side or my back very well last night. At least I didn't break skin when I stabed myself! I need to lay off crocheting, but that's how I decompress...

I will repost with individual pictures of each copy and the drawing on Monday, that's when the crit is anyway.

What I would do differently

Smaller egg, let the corners interact with each other a bit.

I would play with the idea of white clouds, or white with black highlights.

I would make the sun swirls part of the red gradient. I would also simplify their shape to make them easier to carve.

I would look at different ways to portray the cat. Maybe I would play with the idea of red eyes on the cat. Red claws to represent violence? Cause I'm not going to ever go all in on a horrific portrayal, hints have to do for kitty.

Multi colored and more consistent pebble bed. Maybe mossy rocks or sand with grasses growing in? Seeds? Arthropods to pull in yet another creation myth?

Duck would have a bill and a halo or some sort. There plenty of methods to imitate and explore.

I would play with the idea of defining individual rock structure on the volcano and the small waterfall.

Gemstones on the volcano?

Maybe not even do a volcano, and just make a black dragon on a mountain? Chinese style to keep up with the theme of creation?

Shade the reeds in gradients, maybe make thin red lines to imitate their texture?

Dragonflies by the reeds?

Green layer to add moss and lichen, as well as springtime pigments for the reeds as opposed to fall, can you even marble shades effectively in print making? Green detailing on the cat would start getting Erie.

Yggdrasil roots in the division, multi color highlights on yellow, tiny branch coming around to poke out by the sun?

Grey to black gradient instead of straight black for the outline?

Use a digital painting software instead of actualy carving it all. That's the only way I will play with this image again.

The Finnish Godess of Creaton

Luonnotar

Once the universe was comprised of three things.

There was nothingness, a vast unmeasurable abyss where not even a single star shone. The power of stillness was held in the dark expanse.

There was a river, a mysterious flow of swirling posability. The power and movement of the universe was held in the 'waters'.

And lastly, there was a girl. Luonntar was the daughter of the stillness of the abyss and the power of movement. She was alone, and there was nothing for her to do, no way to express herself, or to release energy, or even just simply enrich her life. She did not know companionship, so she did not know to be lonely. She did not sleep, nor did she truly live. She only felt emptiness. There was no pain to be felt, nor was there joy to be had.

Something changed. Something tightened in Luonntar's chest, as though her heart was hurting. Over another eternity she came to recognize the pain as desire. Into her emptiness had flowed a blind longing. She wanted something but she did not know what there even was to want. She wanted change, but because she never experienced anything but the same river and the same darkness, she had no idea what it was she wanted.

Slowly (as everything so far had), an idea budded in Luonntar's mind, the first idea ever in the universe. She jumped into the river and swam. She did not sink, but floated on the surface, looking back up to the darkness she had left from. This action permanently altered the universe, though seeing how took some more time (of corse). In the meantime the girl relaxed as she drifted through the river.

Then came a duck ((grapes are not involved in this myth stahp)) swimming up to Luonntar. A duck, in a universe where there had only ever been one being, now there were two! With Luonntar's change and wish, she changed the entire universe and a new world was created in which the duck could exist too.

The curious bird swam around the girl looking at the strange other being, the girl laying very still as she did the same. The duck climbed up onto Luonntar's warm knee and sat. Then something else happened, something so beautiful that Luonntar could not believe her eyes.

The duck layed three eggs there upon the goddess' knee because it was the only warm dry place in the entire universe, and the only place the future could hatch.

Luonntar kept so very still, anxious of the fragile life prched upon her knee. The duck warmed her clutch as they grew hotter and hotter as the future drew near.

Luonntar yearned for that future like she had never yearned before, bringing back the dull pain from before. She ignored it.

The eggs grew uncomfortably hot, the ducks featherstickled her, and the bebed feet left tiny scratches on her. She ignored it all.

Suddenly the duck shifted, her feathers tickling Luonntar and she couldn't help but to twitch reflexively. She did not mean to but it was enough. She watched horrified as the eggs tumbled into the river. She berated herself, fearing for the eggs. Would they sink forever out of sight? Would the future be lost?

Instead the eggs broke open. Marvels poured forth. The yolks joined into the sun and rose up into the abyss. The whites became a silver moon, rising as well. The tiny bits of the shells became the stars, scattered disjointed with the rest of the remains of the three eggs. In a world where only darkness had existed, light was born. It was magic.

Luonntar was changed by the magic, as she dove beneath the surface. Something was calling to her from the depths. It was the mud at the bottom. She grabbed handfuls and swam back to the surface. She molded a cone from the mud upon her belly and placed it on the surface of the river. It rose into the sky and became a mountain.

She dived again and again, returning to the surface to mold more new landscapes. She carved veins of rivers through the land, scooping out lakes. The stars watched in fascination. Inspired, they rearranged themselves into designs. The moon learned out to show its changing face to the earth.

As Luonntar built the land, life burst forth. Plants grew, creatures came to be. All life was the children of the new earth. When the goddess rested at long last and looked at the bright sky, the green foliage, and the lively children, she knew it was good.

((Adlibed from "Wild Girls" by Patricia Monaghan))

[endless-whump]

Nick/Milo: A Whisper of Touch

CW: referenced refusal of food, starvation, fainting spells, referenced captivity, referenced torture, malnourished whumpee, shameless fluff, cuddles, referenced dissoci@tion

Masterlist

4 am gang wheeee somehow I ended up with 2k words lol I should probably sleep

---

Nick didn’t like hovering but...he really couldn't help it.  He couldn’t help the knee-jerk reaction to throw his hands out to steady Milo whenever he swayed, or seemed off balance, or got that recognizable, pale look on his face.  He didn’t like it because more often than not he got a flinch in reaction to the sudden movement, heart twisting in guilt.  He was thankful for the instinct, though, when he actually needed it.

They always came out of nowhere, the fainting spells.  One minute Milo would be fine, maybe even relaxed if they were lucky, and the next his knees were giving out, sending him crumpling to the ground with barely a second of warning.  They were happening almost every day, which was what made Nick develop the protective habit in the first place.

He was at the bar on his laptop, desperately rummaging through deficiency possibilities when his boyfriend came into the kitchen.  He quickly clicked off the tab and smiled up at Milo, sighing.  He never took a single second he could lay eyes on him for granted, not anymore.

“Hey, love.”  Nick hummed, observing Milo’s demeanor.  He seemed relaxed enough, which was good.  He still had a bit of that far away look in his eyes, though, the one that Nick despised with all his heart.  “I was planning on making some pancakes, I’ll make the kind you always like.  The one with peaches?”

Milo was quiet for a moment, fingers fidgeting with the oversized sleeves of Nick's hoodie he wore.  He nodded, turning and reaching up to grab a glass from the dishdrying rack.  That was one victory Nick was immensely proud of.  He was getting his own water without asking anymore.  Food, on the other hand, was something they were still working on.  Nick knew better than to ask if Milo wanted food, he knew the answer would be a hasty shake of the head.  It was better if he just...simply said they were gonna have food.  It was a statement, not a question.  Not something Milo really had the option of saying no to.

Nick ran a hand over his face, closing his eyes.  It made him feel awful.  He knew it was important to make Milo feel like he could say no, reassure the fact he had options and a choice, but this was the one thing he had to reinforce.  He knew that if Milo was given the option to eat or not, he’d say no every time.  They’d already tried that, thinking he’d eventually cave and say yes.  He never did.

The sound of glass shattering jerked Nick back to attention, head snapping up.  Milo’s eyes were wide, hands shaking where the glass had slipped out of his hand and shattered on the floor.

“Milo- don’t move,”  He said urgently, scrambling to his feet.  The last thing he wanted was Milo freaking out and getting glass in his foot.

“Nick- Nick I can’t, I feel-”

It only took Nick a second to realize what he was saying.  He rushed over and kicked the glass out of the way as best as he could, figuring he was better protected in socks than Milo would be with bare feet.  He wrapped his arms around Milo as if in a hug, feeling him go completely limp, as if someone had turned off some switch.  He staggered with the sudden weight against him, a hand flying to the back of Milo’s neck to make sure his head didn’t fall back.

He carefully lowered Milo to the floor, setting his partner's head in his lap as he gently pressed two fingers against the side of his neck.  He wasn’t sure it was necessary, but the small action was always a small reassurance to him.  That's what kept him calm, every time this happened.  He could reassure himself his partner was breathing, that his heart was beating.  It felt stupid, but he couldn’t help himself.  He needed that reassurance to cling to.

Milo keened softly as his eyes fluttered open, brows furrowing in disorientation.  Nick ran a hand through his hair, cupping his face.

“Hey, you’re ok, love.  There you go, I’m right here.”  

It was routine now, at least for Nick.  He hooked his arms under Milo’s knees and torso, carefully picking him up.  The glass he could take care of in a minute.  Shaking fingers clutched at his shirt as he lowered Milo onto the couch, but were easily pried away to give Nick room to pull a blanket over him.  He slid his hand to the back of Milo’s head, thumb rubbing softly against skin in a soothing motion.  He stayed crouching by the couch, humming reassurances, coaxing Milo through the waves of dizziness and confusion that always lingered after he fainted.  

It made Nick feel frustrated, how helpless he was to help.  The only thing any doctor would tell them was that Milo needed to eat more, needed to rest more, whatever.  Nothing he hadn’t heard a hundred times.  He knew they were right, but it just made him feel guilty, like he wasn’t doing enough to make sure Milo recovered.  All of this felt so out of his range of capabilities.

“M..msorry, sorry-”

“Hey nothing to be sorry for,”  Nick reassured, pressing a kiss to Milo’s forehead.  “You don’t have control over that, shit happens.”

Milo reached a shaky hand out, and Nick quickly laced their fingers together and squeezed lightly.  The deep scars around his wrists were still pinkish, not yet fully paled yet.  Nick found himself staring at them, thumb brushing lightly across the raised, healing marks.

“He almost never took them off,”  Milo whispered, and Nick's gaze darted to him, brows furrowing with concern, then horror.  Milo just stared distantly, eyes fluttering shut as he took a slow, deep breath.  “They were always so..cold, and tight.  They only got warm when..when I pulled at them, and they bled.”  He nodded to his wrist, pressing his lips together.  “Those are my fault.”

“None of this is your fault.”  Nick insisted, leaning close.  “None of it, you hear me?  You can’t blame yourself for something like that.”

Milo just shrugged, eyes opening.  They locked gazes, both of their expressions soft, but grieving.

“I forgot what you looked like.”

Nick’s heart dropped at the statement, tears filling his eyes.  He brought Milo’s hand up to his lips, holding it tightly, giving Milo the space to talk.  His hands were cold, and he couldn’t resist the urge to breathe on them slightly, hoping to do at least something to ease his discomfort.

“I..I forgot what your face looked like, after a while.  It all got really blurry, I just- I couldn’t remember.  I remembered what you smelled like, what your voice sounded like; I heard it when I slept sometimes.”  A tear slipped down his cheek, a haunted look in his eyes.  “But..I couldn’t remember what you looked like, and it terrified me.  I was so scared...scared that I would never see you again, that I had forgotten it forever.”

Nick didn’t even know what to say.  He wanted to tear whoever he did this to Milo to shreds, what he could do with just a few minutes with the bastard…

“When I saw you..” Milo continued, grabbing Nick's attention again. “I thought I was dead.  At a certain point I kinda just- gave up on the idea of ever seeing you again, I guess.  I dreamed so many times about coming home...I still don’t think it's real sometimes.”

God, what do I even say to that

“I’m real,”  Nick murmured, running his other hand down Milo’s back, loving the way he smiled slightly, a little lopsidedly.  “It's all real, and you know that because if it weren’t, I wouldn’t be here, right?  Can’t dream about me if you don’t know what I look like, silly.”

Milo huffed, rolling his eyes.  “Guess not, then.”  He squeezed Nick's hand before pulling close, pressing their lips together.  Nick was a little taken aback by the move but quickly relaxed into it, sighing.  He pulled back after a moment, heart warming at the sleepy grin on the others face, the way his face had a bit more color to it amongst the pale skin and freckles, features that could never be overshadowed in Nick’s eyes, not even by the scars over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones.  This was the clearest Milo’s eyes have looked in ages, the most aware he’s seemed.

“Never forgot what that felt like,”  Milo hummed, letting his head fall back on the couch.  His neck was exposed to show the curve of his shoulder, scars wrapping around his throat, a few disappearing below his collar.  It didn’t stop Nick from wanting to kiss every inch of him, not ever.

“Me neither,”  Nick smiled in return, kissing Milo’s hand again.  “You ok here if I go clean up that glass?  Need to make some breakfast, too.”

“Mhm,”  Milo hummed, nodding.  “Can we go back to bed after?  I know you didn’t sleep, I saw you on your laptop.”

Even now Milo didn’t miss things like that, it seemed.

“Yep, I don’t have any classes to worry about.  We can spend the whole goddamn day in bed if we want.”

Milo smiled, curling up and watching Nick stand.  He made his way back to the kitchen, grabbing a dustpan to sweep up the glass on the floor, dumping it in the trash.  He made something just for the two of them, some bacon and pancakes and eggs and that gross vitamin c juice Milo always drank without a single complaint.  The sun was up now but he knew nobody would wake up for a while, it was Saturday which meant absolutely nobody went to sleep at a decent hour the previous night.  Half of the house probably wasn’t even here.

He passed Milo on his way to take the food to his room, and he almost would've guessed he was asleep if it weren’t for the way he picked at a string on the couch, fidgeting idly.  Nick smiled, quickly setting the plates down on the desk beside his bed before going back for Milo.

“You ok to walk?”  He asked, watching his partner warily.  Milo nodded, pushing himself up on his elbows to sit up, eyes tired but blessedly aware.  Nick helped him up, watching him closely for any signs he’d pass out again.  He didn’t, able to walk back to their room with little assistance and crawl back into their bed.  It was nice to call it theirs again.  It felt all too empty when Milo was gone.

Nick handed Milo his plate, crawling up onto the bed and sitting cross legged next to him with a soft smile.  He ate slowly but he was eating, which is all Nick could ask of him.  The hum of the air conditioner filled the room, a soothing sound to fill the silence as they ate.  Nick matched his pace, only finishing his own food when Milo did.  

“You feeling ok?”  He asked as he set the plates aside, watching Milo pull the blankets up around him.  Nick didn’t hesitate to join him, the two cuddling up together under the covers.

“Yea, just tired.”  Milo said quietly.  They were a tangle of blankets and legs, foreheads pressed together.  They were warm, perfectly content to lay together under the heavy covers.  Nick hummed happily, lacing their fingers together and holding on tight, happy to have his partner close.

“I never want to forget what you look like again.”  Milo whispered.  Nick squeezed his hand, leaning in closer, their chests pressing together.  “I stay awake, sometimes, just watching you sleep.  I’m scared if I go to sleep you’ll be gone when I wake up.”

Nick pressed a kiss to his forehead, then his cheek, down to his jaw.  He wrapped his arms around Milo and pulled him to his chest, a hand running up the back of his neck up to his hair, guiding his head to rest against his shoulder as they closed the space between them.

“I’ll be right here.”  Nick promised.  He felt the way Milo melted against the touch, his curls soft underneath Nick's fingers.  “I’ll be right here when you wake up, you won’t ever wake up back there.  Ever.”

Milo nodded against his shoulder, taking a slow, deep breath.  He hugged Nick back, burying his face into the crook of his neck.  He could hear the sound of the pantry door slamming closed, the floorboards creaking, a fridge opening.  The house was slowly coming to life in the late morning, but the pair only focused on each other in those quiet moments.  They both let themselves drift somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, just aware enough to be aware of each other.  Warm breath against skin, the occasional kiss against the shoulder or jaw, a hand sliding over a hip to pull the other close.  It was all a whisper of communication through touch, something neither of them shied away from.  It was a whisper that spoke louder than any words they could say, sometimes.

I’ll never let you wake up somewhere you’re scared

--

taglist

@haro-whumps@simplygrimly@insanitywishes@lonesome--hunter@deluxewhump@elisabethrosewrites@insanitywishes@iaminamoodymoodtoday @bleeding-demon-teeth @lumpofwhump@redstainedsocks @redstainedsocks @finder-of-rings @insomniacscoprio @inaridriscoll @rosesareviolentlyread @insanitywishes

[cxptain-rex]

Hi so uh, I was wondering if your could write a oneshot with one of the clones (maybe Fives, Echo, Wolffe, Rex, and or even Dogma?) or a head cannon about the clones reacting to their SO/reader having a major panic attack? Their SO is calm and collected, fun to be around and a skilled fighter so walking in on them having a major panic attack completely throws them off guard? (About the war, losing brothers? Not being good enough or even family issues that left invisible scars?)

Two Souls {ARC Trooper Echo}

pairing: echo x reader

warnings: mentions of anxiety attacks and so on.

A/N: Woo! I’m back everyone! It has been so long since I’ve been here. I’m sorry, I decided that I needed a break after the Clone Wars Season finale. I still have pieces to finish for you guys! But let’s get into it!

***

Echo has never been one to break the rules, he follows regulation every single time. In other words, he does things right so he does not face weird outcomes. Of course, he meets you, a skilled Jedi Knight. He immediately falls for you, for your kindness, bravery and rightness. He thinks you’re perfect in every sense of life itself.

After Echo is lost in the Capital everything turns dark. Your bravery turns into cowardice, the rightness turns to doubting but your kindness prevails. No matter how harsh your lover’s death took on you, the person in you managed to carry on slowly.

A full year after his supposed passing the mourning had not run it's course.

The heaviness was in your limbs as much as your mind. Things you used to find funny now only caused a deepening of the pain. He should have been there to laugh with you, or at you, or just near you. He should be making his caf in that damn expensive machine and complaining about the price of eggs. He should be gawping at holopics of fast ships on the holonet and planning what to spend his future GAR credit on, even if he got to have it. He should be gossiping about the vods he worked with worse than an old woman.

But most of all he should be there to hug you goodnight and kiss you before you left for a deployment.

You missed all that.

Back then there was just nothing, a holopic that bore his name and his cold bones rotting in a planet full of evil. You had always been agnostic, but now you put all your faith in the Force to care for him and reunite them when your life was done. Nothing and nobody that good could simply disappear, he was waiting, you could feel it.

So when you found out of Echo being held captive by Techno Union, you marched right towards Anakin and demanded of his help to safe your lover. And so you did, Rex along with Cody and a special batch of troopers went with you. You led them all towards Anaxes and fought your way through.

Slashing and forcing droids to crumble in heaps of metal. With nothing but a yearning of hope perhaps shedding its way in your heart. When you saw him, your heart stopped and your lungs contracted. Your lover hooked on a machine, all frail and pale. Echo seemed to acknowledge you and for a moment you felt at peace.

But you will not forget. You can’t forget how they ripped him appart and how small he looked. You haven’t forgotten, it still lives fresh on your mind that sour memory.

***

The war has been won. The clones have manage to overthrow the villainous Palpatine. Now they are all scattered amongst the galaxy to keep the order and peace. Echo has managed to keep his ARC rank and he manage to keep you as well. Your love growing stronger each day.

Now you live in a house granted by the Organa’s in Alderaan. Echo has built it for you with the help of his brothers. Since then you’ve managed to live in a basic perfect life.

Everything was okay.

Until one night you remembered. The panic starts out as thin cellophane, something your fingers can pierce breathing holes in. In another minute the panic is a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passes your mouth and nose. That's when the attack becomes absolute, shutting your body down as fast as punching a biochemical reset button.

You try to call for Echo but nothing comes out and as you stand shaking in your kitchen. There is a distance in your eyes as your takes a few steps backwards, bumping into the kitchen counter like you weren’t expecting it. Your head rolls with the impact, eyes glazed. Your voice comes out thin and distant, "What, but, no, it didn't, that's... not... right..." You’re breathing all wrong, beginning to gasp like there's not enough oxygen in the air.

Echo trudges into the kitchen with a holopad in hands. His gaze follows your form, he drops the pad and rushes towards you. His hands, both human and mech, grab you as he searches for you. He has no idea what to do, he never saw you before like this. He remembers Fives and Rex helping him overtake one of his own attacks.

He pulls you into his lap, soothing your hair slowly. “I’m right here, cy’are” he assures you as you clutch unto his blacks upper piece. “Echo?” You sob clinging onto the trooper, he nods slowly. Realization falls on him. He knows from where this panic attack comes from.

“I’m here and I’m not leaving you” he reassures slowly as your breaths fall into rhythm. Echo’s heart clenches as you whimper against him. You hug him tighter as he buries his face on your hair.

The panic dies and void emerges. You blink slowly meeting Echo’s gaze slowly. He’s here, your subconscious remarks causing you to tremble and cry against him. Echo’s heart clenches in his chest as he holds your crying figure, he has never seen you like this and it scares him.

Silence strokes the atmosphere, only bits of your sniffling is heard. These attacks were not something you’ve grown fond to, they were constant though since you saved Echo. And now you suffered one in his presence, shame filled your veins like water being spilled into the floor. You advert your gaze detangling yourself from his limbs maintain your eyes towards the floor. Echo frowns, he notices how you step away to retake your long forgotten duties, doing the dishes.

Echo tentatively steps circling your form, he can sense the tension with yourself. He lays fluttering kisses on your bare shoulder until you close your eyes and take a ragged breath. You close your eyes frowning as you tremble, an insharp take makes you turn around and blink away the tears gathering in your eyes.

“They started when you came back. I’ve never felt something like it, I even felt like I was becoming unbalanced.” You explain softly fidgeting with your hands. Echo nods softly as sad features edge on his soft brown eyes. “I tried so hard to contain it but it scares me. The fact of losing you is unbearable. I did it once, I just can’t do it again” you say as your voice breaks in the end. Echo encourages you to come towards him again.

You lay your head on his shoulder. Echo frowns sadly as he takes your face into his hands. His gaze meets yours.

“You have no idea...how much I missed you and yearn for you. Everyday they managed to torture me and turn me into a machine, but I fought hoping that one day you would come and save me. And you did. I love you, Y/N” he says as warmth embeddes itself on your skin and envelops your heart squeezing almost pleasingly.

Nothing comes from your lips as you nuzzle your face on his neck as the sun of Alderaan begins to fade painting an amazing palette on its sky. Warmth sleeps through the walls of your lovely home and everything is perfect. Echo is here, you are here and nothing will take him away from you.

As your souls intertwine in a slow dance across the stars of your mind, a smile edges on your features. Peace has been made within yourself as you come to accept the fact that your lover is alive and well by your side.

***

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy it! I think this is very cute, as always like and reblog for more content. Slowly I will begin to get back on track for you guys! I haven’t forgotten. I’m sorry for disappearing on you guys all of the sudden but I have my personal reasons. Thank you for understanding, xx.

[jinmukangwrites]

Nightwing BTHB: Serum Injection

Stars: Done. Moon: Requested. Eye: Next

Summary: Thirteen year old Dick wakes up in the clutches of owls; a group of people insisting he belongs to them. 

He thinks different.

[anon requested teen Dick Grayson being found out by the Court of Owls and kidnapped by them]

WARNINGS: GRAPHIC descriptions of blood and injury, non-consensual drugging, BRIEF THOUGHTS OF SELF HARM (but for only like a small paragraph), implied sort-of major character death, guys I really mess with Dick in this one. I’m pretty sure most of you reading this already love whump and violence but I still need you all to keep safe. Love you all! Let me know if I missed any triggers, I’m pretty sure I pinned down all the major ones though.

AO3 link

-o-o-o-o-

Dick shivers and curls up tighter against the corner of his small cell, clutching his left wrist and trying not to bend his spine too much because of the whiplash crawling around in his chest cavity. He hopes Bruce is okay… Dick doesn't remember much of the circumstances of his kidnapping, but he does remember driving home with Bruce from school when all of a sudden his guardian went taunt like a bow string before swerving off the road into a ditch just a few miles from the manor.

Next thing Dick knew, he woke up in this small room that can't even really be called a small room. It's more like a closet. A long rectangle that if he lays one way he can lay flat on his back, but won't be able to spread his arms out as much. The door to the room is on one of the short walls, looking all ominous with small gaps between it and the doorframe, the lack of door knob, and it's marble sheen. The floor and walls are marble too, and the ceiling looks rocky like granite. A single bright light shines above him, easily illuminating the small space, leaving the only things shadowed be the top corners where four different cameras hide.

Dick can't tell if those cameras can record audio or not. They can definitely visualize, the lenses are clear enough to see, but otherwise Dick isn't as studied in camera technology like Bruce is; he can't just look at them and immediately know what they are, when they were made, the company that made them and it's CEO, and who invented that particular model. He'd have to get up close and personal with it and hold it in his hands and perhaps have a monitor to his side to use the internet to help him out.

But right now, the thought of moving sends pangs of pain down his spine and in his neck. He's had whiplash before. You don't go on high speed chases in the Batmobile and not end up with whiplash at some point or another. Robin has been a part of his fair share of spectacular crashes… through crashes in the Batmobile are usually cushioned by millions of dollars of technology Bruce invented to make the effects of whiplash little to none. Crashing the Batmobile is tame when compared to a Mustang. Lot less support, a lot more broken metal, and a whole lot more seatbelts crushing your lungs as you catapult in every direction before you finally smack your head on the dashboard and pass out.

So Dick stays sitting, scowling at the door and rubbing his wrist. He doesn't think it's broken, just bruised, but it hurts just enough that he definitely doesn't plan on moving it any time soon. If he wasn't close to shivering in this room, he'd have ripped off a section of his shirt by now to wrap it, but alas… he's cold. And it's not broken so it can last without a brace or anything for a little while longer.

He just hopes his abductors reveal themselves soon and they tell him what they did with Bruce. Maybe he's just stuffed in a room somewhere different until a ransom is paid and then Gordon and the cops will storm in here and save them. Dick's been kidnapped plenty of times, and in all kinds of ways too. He knows how this goes. He'll be fine as long as he acts like a scared, thirteen year old Dick Grayson and not Robin the superhero. As long as he whimpers and cries and weakly and sloppily tries to struggle, he'll be okay.

He'll be okay.

He just hopes Bruce is too. Dick can't imagine what could happen to make the man just swerve off the road like that.

There's a scraping noise, a heavy door opening against solid ground, and Dick's snapped out of his thoughts. Instinctively, he curls up tighter, wincing as the back of his neck protests with a stiff yet stabbing pain and a wave of light-headedness washes over him. He keeps forgetting about the egg on his temple. The concussion from his most recent face-meet-dashboard episode. He's poked and prodded at it perhaps a half hour earlier, but he isn't completely out of it and it just hurts more than anything, but right now it makes it really difficult to completely focus on the forms of people who are standing right outside the door… just standing there, staring at him.

They… don't look like a typical "Dick Grayson" kidnapper. Or well, there's a couple different kinds of Dick Grayson kidnappers. The kinds of people Dick finds himself often in the clutches of are either high end, prestigious assholes who have a grudge against Bruce for some reason or other, or down on their luck thugs who want a quick buck. These people standing before him? They look like Robin kidnappers.

Meaning they're dressed in costumes and giving off a very… very dangerous vibe.

Dick immediately takes stock of them. Three are dressed similar to each other, in dresses or suits or gowns, their faces all covered by an eerie mask that looks like it could be based off an owl. The fourth guy though… he's the one who's giving Dick major red flags. He's muscular and taller than the others and his costume is black and leather and terrifying to look at. There's a hood pulled over his face, shaped like an owl who got steampunk goggles somewhere and that also gave off the shivering effect of light reflecting off of nocturnal eyes.

These look like genuine bad guys.

One of the masked ones steps forward, a woman in a low collared pink gown with lace lining the sleeves down to the middle of her forearms. Her blonde hair is all done up behind her, beads lining the braids until it all sits in a nice and perfect rose-shaped bun at the top of her head. She crosses her arms around her chest, and even with the mask Dick feels like she's studying him like he's a mouse in a glass cage.

"This is the Gray Son of Gotham?" She asks, clearly referring to Dick which throws him off for a number of reasons.

Normally, when he's kidnapped as Dick, people don't normally ever call him by name. First or last. It's always "brat" or "freak" or "that Wayne [insert "brat" or "freak" here]. It's something they do to lie to themselves that they hadn't just kidnapped, tied up, and locked up a kid. Calling him Wayne also makes it clear that they couldn't care less about him personally, they just want Bruce. They don't care that he's just a ward and that Bruce Wayne isn't his dad. They don't care about these things because he may not be adopted by Bruce Wayne, but he's definitely an easy-access key to his bank account.

But these guys called him Grayson. And not even Grayson, but they said it weirdly with an oddly purposeful space and a title added at the end. He wonders if it's a reference about how Bruce is normally jokingly known among the high class citizens as the White Knight of Gotham—a play on words to Batman's take of the Dark Knight of Gotham despite how they don't even know the half of it—but he doesn't get a chance to wonder long before the scary owl guy steps forward, looking directly at Dick with his shining eyes.

"It is, my Court," he says and Dick has to suppress a shiver, "he has finally returned to where he belongs, just like I promised."

"Hmm," the woman says, still staring at Dick as she brings a silk gloved hand to her chin in thought. "And you will take personal responsibility over his education?"

"Education?" Dick asks before he could think better of it. The cold air in the room becomes icy as every person's attention seems to zero in on him. Then, without any prompting, the fully costumed man suddenly strides forward and Dick almost doesn't have to fake a surprised yelp as his upper arm is easily grabbed, fingers wrapping around his limb hard enough to definitely leave bruises as he's forced to his feet; the grasp on him unrelenting as his arm is held higher than his head, forcing him to his tip toes.

Dick goes to wrap his hand around the grasp in an attempt for freedom, but he's painfully reminded of his injured wrist and all he can do is hold it to his chest as he tries to yank his arm out of the grasp on its own power. It doesn't do a thing, in fact the man's grip just tightens heartlessly.

"Of course, my Court," the owl man says, voice silky and dangerous, "I will see to all his education, starting now."

Dick cries out as his bad wrist is grabbed and held just as tightly.

The man bends to get in his face, those horrid eyes glowing dangerously and setting something nervous and scared aflame in his gut. "Lesson one: you will not speak unless addressed and given permission to speak. You will treat the Court with respect. Understand?”

Dick can only nod even though he has no clue what's going on or who these people are, but the nod seems to be enough because he's released. He gasps and scrambles backwards until his back meets the far wall, holding his pulsing wrist to his chest and blinking viscously to staunch the tears caused by the pain.

The owl man straightens with a suffocating aura of intimidation.

"I will turn him into the best Talon this Court has ever seen," the man says, voice prideful and boding ill-will. "We will not let you down."

"We will allow you to train him," the woman says, sounding pleased, "but know if he doesn't show his worth within the week, you both will be severely punished."

Dick feels a shiver go down his spine. If he could see the look on the owl man's face, Dick's sure a smirk would be sitting poisonous on his lips. "Trust me, my Court. He will surpass me. I will make sure of it."

-o-o-o-o-

Want more? This is but a small 1-2k of a 16k one-shot. Read the rest on AO3!

[all1e23]

Astrophile [Pt.6]

Chapter:  Cosmic Rays

Summary:  Bucky has two days off and, he’s going to make the best of every second. 

Warnings:  All kinds of heartwarming fluff. I think we all need that after Endgame. 

A/N: This is my favorite chapter to date. It’s extra fluffy because my heart hurts (Thanks Marvel). Just keep in mind... slow burn. Send me love because i”m needy, okay?!  Plus all your comments make my day. BIG ULTRA HUGE thanks to my beautiful beta @lokissoul I love you 3000!

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed! Thanks!**

For forty-eight hours Bucky doesn’t have to think about on-site drills, taking calls, Sam and Clint bickering. He doesn’t have to think about the damn station if he doesn’t want to and he has zero intentions of doing so. The next two days are going to be spent at home with his baby girl, and he can do… laundry. He glares at the mountain of dirty clothes sitting on the washing machine and the second pile laying in front of the dryer and several of Ori’s dresses and tulle skirts that have to be dry cleaned.

That is not how he wants to spend his day off.

Bucky pushes his chair out from the kitchen table ignoring the piles of dirty clothes that were now behind him. Can’t see it, none of it exists, right? He brings his cup of coffee up to his lips and freezes spotting the stack of dirty dishes from the night before and the batter covered waffle iron from this morning. Not to mention the oddly large number of cups they managed to dirty. How do two people use that many cups in only a few days?

 With a quick turn of the head, focusing his gaze on the living room in an attempt to escape the mess he’s greeted with puzzle pieces thrown about, Disney Pictionary cards tossed haphazardly, brightly colored pom poms and googly eyes spread out on the coffee table and his arch nemesis – glitter. It’s covering the couch, the rug, and coffee table. Bucky winces at the sight and sets his mug down, heading towards the pile of dirty clothes. They had to get out of this house today and the semi-clean joggers he’s wearing isn’t going to cut it in public.

Plucking one of the not so embarrassingly dirty pairs of jeans out of the pile on the floor he glances back at Ori coloring something with her glitter crayons. Her entire morning has been spent perfecting whatever picture she’s drawing, because Orion is a perfectionist. She gets easily frustrated when she can’t make things look or feel a certain way. If doesn’t know the answer to a question, tears are sure to follow pretty quickly. She simply doesn’t like to let Bucky, or anyone, down. 

As much as it worries Bucky, he can’t deny watching her color with her brow furrowed, eyes set in determination and her little tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth is adorable. As cute as she looks he needs to get out of this house before he ends up wasting the day on cleaning because that would be a tragedy. 

“Hey, Comet?” He shouts as he sniffs one of his discarded t-shirts and wrinkles his nose at the odor, tossing it back down onto the pile with a grunt.

“What daddy?”

“I was thinkin’, how about we go see Y/n at the bookstore today?”

Bucky hears something that sounds like a scream or a screech, maybe? He isn’t sure what happened, but he rushes back into the living room, sliding in on his sock-clad feet. The bright blue chair (teal chair as he’s been told several times) is laying on the ground and Ori is now sitting on the floor by the entryway, unharmed and slipping her shoes on.

She looks up at him and frowns in deep frustration. 

“Daddy!” She whines. “What are you doing? Get dressed. Y/n takes a break soon, and we can bring her a treat!”  

He blows a stuttering breath to cover the laugh he was failing to suppress. 

“Alright, ya little general. Give me ten minutes to change.” He looks down at the mess of glitter in front of him, puts his hands on his hips and looks back at Ori, “You think I can get Uncle Sammy to come over and clean up the house for me?”

“You’re not that cute daddy.”

-------

Bucky opted to take his car, which he rarely uses, thanks to the enormous toolbox he chose to bring with them. He isn’t the only one bringing gifts to Y/n’s shop today. Ori had her backpack full of drawing after drawing and every single one of her glitter crayons - all sixty-four were in her travel case stuffed into her bag. Because turquoise blue is way different from robin egg blue and she absolutely needs both. They park about a block away thanks to every other person that thought driving was a good idea today. Just a harsh reminder why Bucky never drives in the city. They stroll down the sidewalk, and Ori nervously tightens her grip on Bucky’s hand the closer they get to the shop.

“You okay, baby girl?” Bucky asks, looking down at her.

She shrugs looking down at the rainbow bow on top of her black tennis shoes. “What if she doesn’t like it?”

“I think she’s going to love anything you got her,” Bucky replied earnestly. “I know she’s going to like the picture you made her and I’m sure she’s gonna like the present you got her at the book fair.”

“I guess so…” Ori mumbles as they approach the star covered storefront. She looks up at the letters displaying the shop name and then to her dad, stepping behind him and holding his jeans in her small fist. 

“You go first.”

Bucky holds back a laugh for the second time today and brushes her curls out of her eyes to get a better look at her. She is the same shade of green Steve was when he asked Sam out for the first time. She’s really spending more time than she should with Uncle Stevie. Bucky holds the door open letting a large group of people shuffle out and giving Ori a second to calm down. They wander into the shop, Bucky pretends to drag his leg behind him as if Ori weighs a ton and his Oscar-worthy acting skills cause her to giggle despite her nerves.

The shop is fairly busy, but it probably has something to do with it being Friday and the sale Y/n has going on. The sign hanging in the front window reads something about getting fifty percent off a total purchase if you buy three or more books and clearly people are excited. Might not have been the best day for surprises. He’s never seen this many people in the shop before. It’s hard to determine where Y/n is thanks to the crowds that have taken over the shop. 

A few sweeps of his surroundings and he finds her sitting on her step ladder between two of the smaller bookcases that sat in front of the register. He stops for a few seconds, just to watch her and he can’t help but smile. She has a store full of customers, and what looks like several stacks of books she needs to put back on the shelves, and she is sitting on a stool with a book open on her lap reading. 

She’s reading in the midst of all this chaos. 

“Hey,” he calls softly. 

Y/n pulls her nose from her book and looks over the bookshelf to find Bucky standing on the other side, smiling fondly at her. A huge smile splits her face in two, and it makes his smile grow ten times brighter. She abandons whatever she was reading and slips it back on the shelf, giving Bucky her full attention.

“Hey, Mr. December,” She replies, snickering as she does.

“I’m not gonna live that down, am I?” Bucky groans, loudly, and hangs his head in shameful defeat.

“Nope.”

She walks around the shelves, and her beaming smile quickly turns into a frown when she spots Ori nervously standing behind Bucky’s legs. Ori’s never been nervous around her before, and Y/n’s mind instantly starts to race.  Had she done something to upset her? Was Ori mad that Bucky has been texting her on and off? One quick glance at Bucky for encouragement and she goes right into fix it mode.

“Hey, Ori,” Y/n tries, gently, squatting down to her level. “What’s going on here? What is this sad face all about?”

Ori looks up at Bucky who smiles and gives her a wink urging her on. 

“I got you somethin’,” she mumbles into the thick material of her dad’s pant leg.

“Oh, my stars! You didn’t have to get me anything, but I’m so excited to see what it is!” Y/n chirps, a huge smile on her face as she settles on her knees, carefully letting her dark blue A-line skirt flare out to hide her legs. The smile on Y/n’s face gives the little girl a small edge of confidence, and she slowly makes her way out from behind Bucky’s legs.

“Is it a spaceship? You know how much I want to go to space.”

“No. I can’t fit a spaceship in my backpack,” The little girl says with a giggle as she unzips her bright blue backpack. Y/n watches taking note of the beauty and the beast, book club and space themed patches Bucky had stitched onto the front. 

“You’re right.” Y/n says, nodding her head in agreement. “How silly of me.”

Ori pulls out the drawing she made this morning and hands it over with a tiny gift bag. Y/n grins as she looks over the picture in her hands. There are four different color planets in the middle that glitter in the lights of the shop, and Ori had left her a message. She carefully reads the words in Ori’s handwriting, ‘You are my favorite planet. I like you very much.’

Y/n looks up at Ori from her kneeling position and practically glows in response. Her eyes never leave the little girl as her fingers work the bag open. “You are my favorite constellation, and I like you very much.”

The faint blush on Ori’s chubby cheeks makes Y/n grin wider, she pulls out a small white piece of cardboard and flips it over in her hand, and her heart leaps. She’s had boyfriends who put fewer thoughts into a gift. Her silence must have made Ori nervous because she could hear soft mumbles coming from Bucky’s side as his hand worked through her curls. “I thought – you like space stuff and, and you have that book you write in…” 

She looks up at Ori and smiles clutching the space-themed paper clips to her chest like it’s the most precious thing she’s ever been given, and it is. 

“The little astronaut is my favorite. Or maybe it’s Saturn with the little star. I can’t decide. I love them, and I adore you. Thank you so much, sweet girl.” Ori flings herself at Y/n and wraps her arms around her neck, Bucky watches the two of them in awe.

“You’re welcome,” Ori whispers quietly.

Y/n squeezes her tightly for a few long moments and kisses the side of her head. 

“Want to go pick out a book, and we can read together for a minute and then you can help me decide where to hang my picture?” 

Ori nods and gives her one last squeeze before she takes off towards her chair at the back of the store, where her secret pile of books is stacked behind it. There is a long pause before Y/n can use her legs, she slowly rises to her feet holding onto her picture and her gift with gentle firmness for fear of misplacing them. Not that she would ever let them out of her sight long enough to lose them.

“Thank you for that,” Bucky mumbles softly, aware that Ori is somewhere in the store and kids can hear everything when they want to. “She was really nervous you wouldn’t like it.”

“Bucky…” Y/n sighs and clears her throat of the emotion that was bubbling up. “I loved it. It’s the best and most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.” 

There was such a sincerity in Y/n’s voice that he suddenly found himself angry at whoever thought she wasn’t worth the effort. He wants to tell her that she deserves more than that and tell her how thankful he is to have her in his life and his daughter’s life, but he can tell she is struggling to keep her tears at bay, so he doesn’t say tell her now.

“What’s with the tools?” Y/n asks, curiously, ready to change the subject. “Are they props for your next photo shoot?”

His eyes narrow playfully, allowing her to change the subject without missing a beat, and he nods to the toolbox at his feet. “You’re gonna feel real bad for makin’ fun of me when I tell you that I’m fixin’ your door and that busted up front window.”

Her smile slowly fades, and her expression turns serious again. 

“I–” She stumbles over her tongue trying to gather her thoughts. “You don’t have to do that Bucky. You have enough on your plate and, and I’m sure you could be fixing things back at your place.”

“And you’ve given Ori how many free books?” Bucky challenges. “How many times have you closed the shop to spend time with her? I know it’s more than the two nights I know about. Let me do this for you. Believe it or not, I’m pretty handy, and the crack in the window is driving me nuts.” He huffs, frustration ringing loud and clear, his hand brushing his hair back out of his face.

“All your cool air is flying right out that little crack. It’s a waste of money,” Bucky gripes, goodnaturedly but it’s clear it’s bothering him. 

“And you got any idea how unsafe that is?”

Y/n giggles and shakes her head waving her hand to the front of the shop giving him permission to whatever he wants to - she had a feeling he was going to do it regardless of her permission anyway. 

“Alright, get to fixing it I guess. Starlight?” She calls through the shop and Ori comes bouncing around from her chair with a beaming grin on her face. “Dads gonna fix the door wanna help me with inventory?”

Ori’s eyes light up, and she rushes off towards Y/n’s office where the cart full of books is kept and yells back, “Yes, yes, yes!!!

-------

The day flew by weirdly fast. Before Bucky knew what was happening the sun had started to set, and the crowd of people had come and gone. There were waves of people in and out all day. At bits during the day, the shop was so full Bucky had to stop working and just hold the door open for the crowds. Then there were random quiet periods when the shop was nearly empty, and he could hear Ori and Y/n giggling through the quiet.

Those moments were his favorite.  

Bucky sets his tools behind the counter and strolls back into Y/n’s office. It was near closing time, they were only waiting on one last customer to finish up her browsing, and Y/n had Ori on her lap at her desk while they looked through her planner, crayons spread all over her desk. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans his shoulder against the door frame, watching them.

“All done for the day?” Y/n asks not looking up from whatever they were coloring together. She didn’t need to, Y/n felt Bucky the moment he stepped into the doorway.

“Yeah, it’s all fixed.”

Y/n looks up and pouts at his empty arms. “Where is Timmy?”

He scowls as he glances back into the shop and then again at Y/n, “Who the hell is Timmy?”

“Um, your toolbox. Timmy the toolbox,” she says quickly, a slight frustration in her voice as if he should have known that Timmy was clearly a name for a toolbox and that she obviously would have spent time thinking about a name for the metal box, to begin with.

“You named my toolbox?” He asks, curious amusement filling his voice. Shit, she is cute sometimes, Bucky can’t help but think.

“I think the real shocker here is the fact that you had not named him up to this point,” She counters with a hint of disapproval, and he really doesn’t like disappointing her. Bucky chuckles quietly at the glare she’s shooting at him and throws his hands up in surrender. 

“I didn’t realize I had hurt the feelings of an inanimate object. I’ll apologize to Timmy.”

“See that you do.” 

She smiles triumphantly and turns her attention back to Ori who’s giggling away in her lap.

“How about after I apologize to Timmy we grab dinner?” Bucky offers, and Y/n quickly adds on. “I’m buying though!”

“What?” Bucky’s brows shoot up, and he shakes his head. “No, you’re not. How many books did you put in Ori’s bag today?” Y/n opens her mouth and quickly shuts up, her lips pressing into a thin line as she narrows her eyes.

“That’s not the point.” She whines, it’s hard for her to accept all this help from him. If anyone deserves to catch a break, it’s Bucky. Certainly not her. 

“You worked all day fixing the front door and then the window and don’t think I didn’t notice you came in and checked all the shelves and did that spackle thingy to the window that was leaking by Ori’s chair.”

“First of all, didn’t use spackle. That wouldn’t work on a wood frame doll.  Second of all, my time barely covers the amount of money you’ve lost in books,” Bucky replies, eyes filled with perseverance and his arms crossed back over his chest. He isn’t going to give in, and they both know it.

“Fine.” Y/n relents doing everything she can to hide her smile. She looks up just in time to see her last customer waiting at the register, so she hops up taking Ori with her. “You can buy dinner, but I get to pick where we eat, and I’m ordering two kinds of desserts.”

Bucky grins as he watches her skip back to the front of the shop Ori following right behind her matching her skip for skip. He chuckles quietly to himself and collapses into Y/n’s desk chair. The picture Ori drew was pinned up on the wall next to her desk, and Y/n had her planner out on the desk paper clips Ori had bought her at the book fair already in use. Y/n even let Ori add another movie night to next week’s agenda with bright purple glitter crayon.

“What did we do to deserve you?” He whispers softly.

The grin on his face slowly starts to fade, and his chest tightens when he sees what Y/n has scribbled onto Saturday night.

Dinner with Tony Stark. Masa @ 7pm

It hits him like a speeding truck knocking the breath right out of him. She has a date with Tony Stark. Bucky didn’t think Nat was really going to set them up.  He hastily looks back up at Y/n and Ori they are helping the young girl check out at the counter,  Ori is sitting on the wooden top laughing loudly at something Y/n is saying, scanning each book in Y/n’s hands and typing into the computer as Y/n directs her after each item.

Of course, he’s going to take her to Masa. Stark doesn’t do anything simple. Everything has to be flashy with him. Y/n probably won’t like all that flashy stuff. It’s stuffy there. Not that Bucky would know. He’s never been, and there was no way Bucky could ever afford to take anyone to Masa. There’s not a chance in hell he’s ever going to make enough money to spend a grand on some fancy dinner. Shit. Who is he kidding? She’s going to love it. Stark’s charming, handsome and could give her the best of everything.

If anyone deserves the best, it’s Y/n, but then again Stark didn’t have the best reputation. If he didn’t end up breaking her heart, which was more likely than not, his relationship with Y/n could affect her relationship with Ori. Bucky doubts Tony Stark’s idea of a fun night is watching Hotel Transylvania while eating pizza on the couch. However, if she wants to date him, as Y/n’s friend, Bucky has no choice but to support her-- even though he thinks it’s a terrible idea.

This is the worst idea and Bucky absolutely hates it.  

Previous // Next

[enasallavellan]

Enasal Lavellan Fictober Special: Day 2

Hey guys, I’m still alive!

Sorry, my wedding shinanagans, the countdown is on!

But, it seems like I’m on Day ___- of Fictober.  So here is your continuation!

.

Enasal turned back to down at the hallway.  Whoever had built this estate had enough coin to floor it with the most beautiful marble tiles and gild the wall with gold leaf and painted scenery.  Even the high ceilings had an elaborate spectacle of  molded plaster faces that seemed to laugh and scowl as you passed underneath.

Beyond her own squelching boots the hallway stretched into darkness, lined with closed doors - except for one.  There, right at the edge of the shadow’s reign, was a door cracked open.  

Enasal turned back to the group, gave her cheekiest grin, and took off to the door.  Shouts of protest sounded, and Krem rang out a shout of “Teldirthalelan!” 

Enasal couldn’t help but grin - they had been teaching each other insults and curses in their native languages, and Krem was putting it to good use.

Besides, the room felt as though it had called to her - how could she deny it?

She stood nose to nose with a bookshelf, the doorknob of the door digging into her back.  How had she not noticed the room was so small?  As her eyes adjusted to the pitch black she saw shapes emerge.  Luckily, the small room could only spare enough space for a single shelf, and on the shelf, lay five books. 

Heat and light burst from beside her head, where a single torch had lit itself.  A gasp escaped her and she glanced to the side with half-blinded eyes. It was always surprising, but it wasn’t the first self-lighting torch she had seen.  

She reached and grabbed the first book.  Its cover was a sort of faded green, with spots here and there where water - or maybe tears - had fallen while the dye was curing.  The cover was embossed with the image of a set of hands holding onto a sleeping rabbit, a thumb smoothing over the rabbit’s forehead.  She smiled at the image, and drew her own thumb over the rabbit’s head before moving on to the next.

It was heavy, clad in gold corner clasps and held together with a solid lock.  The cover had been dyed a deep red and it sported an image of a hawk clutching a pen and standing over a nest filled with eggs.

Enasal cloudlnt’ help performing a small and birdlike whistle.

The next one, dyed to a sky blue, showed a large shield, helped aloft and angled to keep oncoming arrows away from a nug that sat huddled in the corners.  The gold-embossed arrows were numerous and rained down the page.

An undyed leather volume was next, embossed with a lion that looked ready to roar, but was encumbered by the glass flask it held in its teeth.  

The next book was dyed to a deep purple.  The leather felt smooth and strong, and the smooth pages were tripped with gold leaf.  A dragon lay amid a pile of books, sleeping peacefully.

Enasal pulled out the last volume, undyed but still with its own image, embossed in gold as all the others had been.  A wolf stared out to the right edge, a human hand visible on the wolf’s shoulders, hand buried in the fur.  The hand led up to a girl, who followed the wolf’s gaze ahead of them.  It was as though she was guiding the wolf, or perhaps the hand’s owner was being guided.

Enasal gathered the books and balanced them in her arms, trying to keep a hand free so she could open the door.

Her friends jumped back and stared at her when she opened it, eyes wide and confused. 

“You’re back.”  Cullen said, crowding her to look, “And you’ve found books to read!  Dorian shall be happy!”

“What?”  She asked.

Cullen was giving a stunned sort of nod, “Enasal, how did you...?”

“That was impressive!”  Varric laughed, “We’ve been trying to get that door down for awhile.”

Enasal shifted the books in her arms, “You… no, I would have heard it!  That room was so small the doorknob was in my back.”  She laughed, “You guys are teasing me.”

“No we’re not.”  Krem said, “Where did you get those?”

“Off the bookshelf.”  Enasal said, raising an incredulous eyebrow.

Krem frowned, “What bookshelf?”

Enasal went to point, but the room had changed.  No shelves, no torch.  She slowly turned back, face pale.   The room was empty, save for a small broken vase in the middle of the floor.

“We heard the crash.” Dorian said, “And you screaming.”

Enasal shook her head, “I wasn’t screaming.”

“It was loud!”  Cole instituted, “In our ears - all of our ears.”

“We need to find a way out.”  Cullen said, “Doors that won’t open, changing rooms, windows won’t break but china is loud enough to bring us all from the kitchen.”

Enasal and nodded and heaved the books up again, prompting Dorian to grab one from her, “What have you found?”

“Some books.”  She said.

“Why pick them up?”  Dorian asked.  

Enasal was using her elbows to clear the kitchen island and dumped the books onto the cleared surface.  “Take a look.”

Dorian was still looking over the one he had grabbed, “Blank.”  He said, flipping the pages to show them, “Wonderful quality paper, gold leaf - and this stitching, looks like a technique from Tevinter.”

Cullen squinted at his own, then shook his head, “It’s too dark to see.”  He looked around, “We should all get some rest.-”

Locks clicked somewhere beyond the hallway, one, two, three, four, five.

“Okay.”  Enasal said, “I’m feeling a little done.”

Krem nodded towards the hallway, “En, you said the door was open where you found the books?”  She nodded and he murmured something under his breath, snatching one off the table and flipping through it.  

He looked at one of the doors and nodded, “Commander, you’re from Fereldin.  The indentations in the door, I know they’re common to mimic a window pattern, but what about like this?”  The door - as with all the others, had a single rectangle indention on the top panel of the door, with two indention underneath it to form a simple pyramid.

Cullen frowned and looked at the door, “Perhaps?  But Maker knows what's in fashion to those who built this place.”

Krem grinned and glanced back at Enasal, “Hand me three of those books.”

Enasal will give Krem… (pick three)

The faded green, with a set of hands holding a rabbit, smoothing its head.

The red book with the locks, embossed with the image of a hawk clutching a pen and protecting eggs.

The blue book with a shield, held aloft a small nug as arrows rain down.

The leather undyed volume with a golden lion, a glass flask in his teeth.

The emerald green cover with gold leaf.  A gold dragon sleeping among books.

The undyed book with the image of a wolf and a girl, one leading the other.

Comment or message me with your choice!

@mauvette268 @in-uthenera-we-wait

[mynightingalecomplex]

Don’t Get Too Comfortable

Ok, so here’s a (not so little) fic I’ve been toying with. It’s long, so I’m going to break it into parts. I default to Pre-Disney+ Mandalorians, so the helmets are not an issue.

Synopsis: Just off a successful hunt, Jesse Libarra finds herself traveling in company with another Mandalorian, Aden Nasreyc. The two Mandalorians are looking forward to a few days of rest on a backwater planet but, unknown to them, the Black Sun have followed Aden and are intent on exacting their revenge on the man who killed their leader.

Tags: previous injury, broken ribs, exhaustion, field medicine

Link to glossary

Link to illustrations:

Part One

Part Two

Aden floated up from dreamless sleep into a fuzzy, pink semi-wakefulness. Dreams still niggled about the edges of his mind and his eyelids were stuck shut, but he could feel the pillow under his head and the blankets twisted through naked legs. It had been so long since he had awakened in a bed --an actual bed!-- that he allowed himself to simply lie there without wondering where he was, how he’d gotten there, or who was trying to kill him. He couldn’t remember any reason to get up, so maybe he’d just lay there for five more minutes….

He surfaced again some time later. Judging by the light, it had been more than five minutes. Again he lay still, luxuriating in the feel of sheets and a foam pillow against a cheek that had slept for three months on the inside of a helmet. Golden light played through his eyelids. The enviro-unit grumbled and whined, insulating the room in a cocoon of noise. He drew up his knee and burrowed into his pillow, searching for the fragments of his dream, but it was fruitless. He was awake now and would find no more sleep for a time. 

Aden opened his eyes. Light like liquid gold streamed through the curtains as they danced in the enviro-unit’s breeze. Dust motes floated in a ballet up and down the shafts of sunlight. Somewhere outside he heard a door slam, a voice, but then all was silence. He squinted at the chrono on the table. Fifteen hundred. He yawned. He knew he shouldn’t have slept so long. It was wasteful. It was foolish. It was dangerous. But it had been necessary. 

The hunt on Vurus had been long and dangerous. Three months without a single full night’s sleep, of constant watchfulness and wakefulness, living always with the shadow of death, had left him at the edge of his very considerable limits. He had taken privation, discomfort, and mental and physical punishment, and if he hoped to take it again he had to have rest. It had been a risk to spend so long asleep, particularly after the mess at the space port, but in a blaster-proof room with another Mando’ad on his six the risk had been worth taking. 

Memory jarred him further into alertness. He rolled up on his elbow to look around the room. There on a pallet between the bed and the window, slept the girl from his half-remembered dream. Feet bare, dressed only in red fatigues, long brown hair pooling loose about her face and shoulders, she lay in the sunlight like a porcelain doll except for the blaster clutched in her tapered fingers.  

          Suddenly conscious that he was dressed only in his boxers, he sat up to pull the sheets over his naked legs. The pain that had long been his companion, dulled just enough by sleep and medication to pass out of his mind, flashed through his body and left him gasping. Modesty forgotten, he hugged his legs to his chest and buried his face in his knees, all his efforts concentrated on silencing the string of curses that had lined up on his tongue. 

           When the spots finally cleared from his vision, he found Jesse at his knee, regarding him from the floor with grave green eyes. “Hiya.” She said, her voice low and rusty with sleep. “Do I need to ask you how you're feeling?” 

          He tried to smile. “Bout as bad as I look.” 

          “Sheesh. You belong in a hospital, then.” 

          “You up for breakfast?” His stomach had woken up and was reminding him that the last thing he had eaten was a protein cube on the train to the Vurus spaceport. 

          She turned to look at the chrono. The golden light caught in her loose chestnut hair, glistening like syrup in a crystal decanter. A rogue corner of his mind ran an imaginary hand through that long brown mane before he could stop it. He shoved the thought back into the depths of his subconscious and pulled the sheets up over his legs, trying to ignore the blush that was creeping up his neck. 

          “We might could find breakfast around here.” Jesse said. “I know a little place that caters to late risers.” 

         “Sounds good to me.” 

         She tossed his flightsuit at him and headed for the fresher. Gingerly, Aden eased himself into his clothes. Socks, suit, gloves, tak-vest and ammo belt went on with his usual care. Pushing himself to his feet, he stomped into his flat-soled boots and opened the curtains. He stood at the edge of the window -- no point making himself a target-- and looked out, enjoying the peaceful removal from the afternoon bustle and the warmth of the sun on his face. 

          His stomach growled. He couldn't remember his last meal. There had been a cup of burnt caf at the Vurus police station and a ration cube on the train to the spaceport, but after all the trouble had started an empty stomach had been the least of his problems. He rubbed his ribs absently and winced. Jesse was right; he was slow and getting slower. 

          “Fresher's open.” Jesse padded out in sock feet, tying off the end of her long brown braid. 

          “Vore.” He stepped away from the window. He looked reluctantly at his armor stacked neatly on the chest-of-drawers. “What do you think? Is this a blaster and beskar kind of place, or maybe a little more casual?”

        Jesse shrugged. “Depends on how threatening you find greasy eggs and soggy waffles.”

         Aden considered this. Battle-ready was all well and good, but three months in full kit left a man feeling more like a sardine than a member of society. It was just a diner, after all, not a drug den. Not even a cantina. And they hadn't been on Dantooine long enough to make any enemies. He bounced once or twice on the balls of his feet, enjoying the unaccustomed lightness. “Maybe just the body plates.” He said. “Just so they know we're Mandos.”

          The diner was everything Jesse had promised. Basically a long chrome tube with big glass windows, the diner was alive with beings crowded into red vinyl booths. Waiters, humans and Twi'leks instead of the droids popular on city worlds, bustled about with pots of steaming caf and plates of greasy food, laughing, shouting, and bantering with the customers. Aden felt himself relaxing. This was a small town on a peaceful world, and the sense of community amongst the patrons was almost palpable. It felt like home. 

         They were seated in a booth along the big front window, working through their second pot of caf. The waitress had looked askance at them at first, but in only chest and knee plates, helmets off and sleeves rolled up, they looked less than threatening. Even in Verad, mercenaries were not unheard of and their money was as good as anyone else's, so here they were in a sticky vinyl booth waiting for their pancakes without drawing any more than an occasional curious glance. 

        Aden sipped his caf and looked out the window at the dusty street. “Nice place.” He commented. “Better than Vurus, but I'm a country boy at heart.” 

          Jesse nodded. “Beats durasteel streets and monorails, that's for sure. I grew up in the vhetin'e. Long rolling hills and grass as far as you can see so this always feels like home.” 

Aden watched her as she looked out the window. He knew he shouldn’t ask. It was rude and it wasn’t remotely his business, but her sharp, sad, porcelain face and those deft fingers belonged to something more than an itinerant bounty-hunter on a third-class world. “What are you doing trapped out here, Jesse?” Even he could hear the despair in his voice. ”Don’t you have family waiting for you?”

“No.” She answered first, then looked away from the window. “No family.” He didn’t think she was going to elaborate. There was no reason she should and he was kicking himself for being a di’kut when she went on. “I was with the GAR before the… before the Empire took over. When Kal Skirata and his boys bugged out they went with hundreds, thousands of others, commandos and regular troopers too. The Empire lost almost a third of their fighting force, but they kept it quiet. Whole regiments disappeared at a time, and most of them headed for Mandalore. It was chaos.” She looked down at the cup in her hands but he knew she wasn't seeing it. “One of my boys got out. One didn't. Two didn't even try.”

          Aden tried to think of a way to ask the obvious question without further insult, gave up, and asked anyway. “What about you? You bugged out with the rest?” 

She shook her head. “Not a chance. I’d have stayed. I wasn’t there to serve the Republic. I was there cause my boys were there and it was a steady paycheck. What did I care what symbol the boys had painted on their armor?

“No, when the dust settled, the Imps repainted the troops that were left, brought in the last battalions of Kamino-trained soldiers, and all us irregular non-coms showed up the next morning to find our clearance revoked, our quarters occupied, our possessions confiscated, and our boys renumbered and reassigned.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, Jesse lost in thought, Aden shocked at this first-hand account of what had been only rumors through the Mando’a community. Finally Jesse shook herself and the gloom that clouded her face vanished as if it had never been. “So, here I am, foot-loose and fancy-free, back doing what’s best for the one who's most important.” She tapped her chest plates. “Me.”

Aden didn’t know what to say, but he was rescued from shoving his foot further into his mouth by the arrival of the waitress with their order. After months of hard work on nothing but field rations and will power, Aden felt he could eat an entire nerf by himself, horns, hooves and all, but he had settled on ordering basically the entire menu, because his momma had raised him with some manners. Werris eggs, fried nerf bacon, sausage, crispy potato patties, and stacks of waffles with cream and slices of shefna fruit on top all appeared from the kitchen together, still sizzling in pools of grease or dripping with sticky Alderaanian molasses. It took two waitresses to bring it all to the table. 

          After that, there was no more conversation for a while. Talking was a waste of time with food going cold on the table. Jesse was polishing off the leftover half of his third waffle - - he considered it more a gift to a good friend than an admission of defeat-- when she spoke suddenly, pointing an accusatory fork at him. “All right, pretty boy. Now it's your turn. What's a handsome fellow like you doing on Dantooine without enough money to buy a bed for the night?”

         He winced, but it was only fair. “Oh, you know how far money goes in this economy. Gotta work where you can.” He tried a nonchalant shrug, knowing it wouldn't work. 

         “Vurus to Dantooine's a long jump with no money in your pocket.” She rejoined. ”And this isn't the place to come to turn a quick credit.”

         No, he thought, but it might be a good place to stage a tactical withdrawal. But of course he wasn't going to tell Jesse that. No sense in getting her mixed up in whatever trouble he'd gotten himself into. “It's as close as I could get to Qilura on a passenger ship.” That at least was true. 

           “Family out there?” 

          “A sister. Brother's wife.” He answered immediately, glad to have something he could talk openly about. “She's not Mando, but she did right by him and she's trying to do right by his boy, so I do what I can.” ‘What he could’ meant going hungry and traveling forth-class on passenger ships so Miran and her son could live a step above the poverty line, but he could see Jesse understood that and wasn't going to ask him to elaborate. “It's not the kind of help I'd like to give her, but it's help she needs and it's the least I can do.”

          Jesse nodded and scraped the last of the whipped cream off his plate with her fork. “Good for you. It's hard when they're not Mando'ade. How do you get from here to Qilura? That's another two jumps from here.”

          He shrugged. “There's usually some freighter or other going that way. I'm not above hauling cargo and swabbing decks if it means a free hyperspace jump.”

          “Makes sense.” Jesse said. “Tell you what. I've got a little extra on me this time, so how about I stake you a day's rations and a hyperspace jump and drinks'll be on you next time we run into each other.”

          “Jesse, I…” Aden was at a loss. What could he say? How could he accept? But, on the other hand, how could he refuse? “That would be… “ 

          Then the world exploded.

[surya-kulshreshtha]

Cheating or Infidelity : Signs that you are passively cheating with your partner on multiple or different spectrums of commitment in a relationship

Fun Fact just this remains insightful as well as factually elucidating. "When a penguin finds it's mate, they stay together forever." The male and females share duties in order to take care of their offspring. Generally after laying the egg the females go looking for food while the males are left to care for it

Consider this scenario ;

A woman was in New Delhi for a friend's bachelorette party when a man and she started dancing. He pulled her close to him and laid his chin against the curve of her neck.

"Are you single?" he whispered in my ear.

"No," she told him. “Married."

"Too bad,” he said, and she could feel his hot breath against her neck.

They danced for a while longer, and then she broke away to return to her friends and get a sip of beer.

"You guys were getting friendly," a friend of her said.

"Nah," she said. “It was just nice to dance with someone."

They danced together a few more times that night. He clutched her so tightly against him that she could feel the outline of his entire body. At one point, he rubbed his lips against her neck and said, “You sure you don't want to go home with me?”

"I'm married," she repeated and broke away from him. "I just thought you might be interested. From the way we were dancing."

"I wasn't,” she said and didn't dance with him again.

"Anyone hit on you last night?” the husband asked her on the phone next day.

“No. I just danced with the other girls,” she told him.

1. Falling for thirst-traps

A thirst-trap is defined as, “a sexy photo posted on social media to attract attention.” The intention of these is to draw you in to like, compliment, or DM. They're "look at my cleavage or v-cut abs!”

If you are in a committed monogamous relationship, notice thirst-traps and acknowledge that you like what you see, but then keeeeeeeep on scrolling. Do not let them hook you so you like, comment “you look great!” or, worse, slide into their DMs. You're playing too close to an electric fence when you start engaging with these.

2. Having active dating profiles

Exclusivity likely means for you and your partner that you don't have any active dating profiles; otherwise you'll have a convenient exit door. Maybe you tell yourself that you like swiping when you're bored, but what if you see someone you like? Are you really going to not message them?

"The grass is always greener,” and it can always look that way if you're not feeling too happy with your current situation. The other part of that aphorism you need to remember, though, is that, "It's always greener where you water it.”

Spending any of your free time on a dating site or app is a problem, and one you should check quickly.

3. Not inviting your partner to certain events

If you find yourself purposefully not inviting your partner to events, it might be because there's someone there you don't want them to meet, or you don't want this other person to see that you're in a committed relationship. Doing this definitely qualifies as micro-cheating.

4. Being protective of your phone

Maybe you're just a little nervous about your partner seeing your phone, or maybe you know they'd take it the wrong way if a certain name popped up on your screen. Either way, if you don't feel comfortable leaving your phone unguarded, that's something for you to think about.

5. Stalking an ex

You may be curious about an ex and decide to look them up every once in a while, but continually perusing their social media profiles can be a sign that you're still emotionally attached. The same is true if you won't quit talking about your ex. If your ex's name keeps being in your mouth, you're not over them.

6. Spending time with someone in a meaningful way and not telling your partner

Anything done in secret from your partner is a sign you're not doing something you believe is appropriate.

When she danced with that guy in New Delhi and then didn't tell the husband, she knew she had participated in something inappropriate. If the husband had done that with another woman, she would have been furious, but she convinced myself it "wasn't a big deal” because it didn't go further.

If you spend meaningful time with someone, whether it be meeting someone for coffee or dan cing with them at a bar, and you don't then tell your partner, you should ask yourself why.

7. Waiting too long to tell someone you're in a committed relationship

When you meet someone new, it's common to chat with them about your life, but it's a problem if you don't mention that you're in a committed relation ship. While you may not be outrightly lying, you're lying by omission by not mentioning that there's a whole person you happen to share a home/life with.

If you don't mention your partner to someone, it'd be important for you to figure out why. You could be trying to portray yourself as single, and that's not okay if you want to remain in your committed relationship.

When you catch yourself committing some of these shady subtle behaviors, it's time to take a look at yourself. Are you hungering for something more? Are you feeling neglected in your relationship? It's likely time for you to have an open conversation with your partner and/or seek the help of a therapist. Affairs don't begin out of nowhere. They start small and build, and micro-cheating is the very smallest way they can begin.

[twilightbimbo]

Solstice pt 1: Twilight AU

This is an expansion of the Twilight universe with my OC characters!

                                    home is where the heart is

                                    and i’m afraid

                                   i’ve lost my way

Samson

“Why do you think you’ll win? I know when you’re bluffing,” I chided, laughing. Esther rolled her eyes with mild amusement. Esther is the most competitive one in our family and she always tries to best me in poker, despite the fact that I have the gift for sniffing out inauthenticity. 

“‘Cus you suck at poker,” Esther pulled up the corner of her lips in a slight smirk and laid out her winning hand. 

“Har har,” I huffed in frustration. I felt my eyebrows furrow as I realized what was happening. “You assholes!” I exclaimed. Suddenly, the cards of Esther’s winning hand became fuzzy and resembled a glitching computer monitor and then smoothed out into her true, losing hand. I looked up at Esther who was nearly hysterical, tears in her golden eyes from laughing and clutching Chip’s arm. 

“Sorry, brother,” Chip smiled softly and brushed a lock that fell out of Esther’s bun and brushed it behind her ear. I booed loudly and pushed the deck of cards off the dining table between Esther and me in mock anger. 

“Clean that up, Sam,” Sunny said to me without even looking in my direction as she walked past with a basket of laundry. Sunny liked to blend in more than the rest of us. “Keeps us humble,” is one of her favorite phrases. Sunny is the matriarch of our family, even though she is the youngest of us. Technically. 

“Sam, if you couldn’t cheat, you would be terrible at poker,” Stella yelled from her upstairs bedroom. Stella didn’t need to yell, she could even whisper it and we would be able to hear her. But, Sunny forces us to act human at all times, even in our own house. Where no one can see us. Or hear us. Sunny’s word is law. 

Nathalia 

If I was human, I would be panting from running this hard and far. Actually, if I was human I couldn’t run like this at all. I still let air rush in and out of my lungs naturally, tasting the forest around me. I had been feeling the urge to see the ocean lately. I miss home. But, I can’t go back there for a lot of reasons. Mainly because it’s always sunny down there. So, the Oregon coast is perfect for my needs, it’s overcast here the majority of the time. And it felt familiar here, the beach was always a constant for me until I died.

 I have been on the run for three years. That is so dramatic to say, but it’s true. I’ve been through nearly all of California, eastern Oregon, and about every rural area in Washington. I haven’t been around the general public in what seems like forever. If forever means three years and three hundred and sixty-two days. I’ve missed normalcy. I’ve missed being able to call a place my own. I miss belonging to something.

The trees began to clear as the river widened and gray light bled between the branches above as they became more sparse. I slowed down into a more relaxed jog, my damp hair starting to cling from my shoulders all the way to the small of my back. I relaxed my pace completely as I could see the river desperately reaching the ocean, letting my bare feet sink into the mossy and wet forest floor. I walked slowly until the ground turned into sand. I tilted my face up towards the sky and let the gentle rain kiss my face. 

The waves crashing is familiar and it eased some of my longing. Longing? God, I’ve become so pretentious. In my human life, I couldn’t stand being alone for longer than hours and now I’ve gone years. I guess loneliness changes you. 

While I was roaming in Washington, I heard there were vampires who tried to pretend to be humans and go to school and stuff. I was transformed only a year after I graduated high school and I didn’t get the chance to go to college. I had my eyes on the University of California, Los Angeles. But, here I am. Not alive, but also alive. On a beach. In the middle of fucking nowhere. 

“Hey! Aren’t you cold?” A voice called out to me from down the beach. I’ve been practicing for this. I turned my head slowly, trying to be careful of the speed of my movements. I looked down at myself briefly. I was wearing a thin, gray sweater with jeans. And barefoot. It’s probably in the low forties right now and getting colder. So much for attempting to blend in. I looked back at their direction and while I was definitely too far away, I smiled tentatively at them. 

“Got thick skin!” I yelled back, shrugging. The person behind the voice was an older man, the wind carried his scent towards me. I could smell the warm blood and as he slowly approached me, I could hear his faint heartbeat. It would be too easy. In half a second I would be right in front of him, pushing his head back to expose his neck. His red cap would fall off and in my frenzy, I would probably tear apart his windbreaker. Blood on the sand. My eyes red. 

Nope, nope, nope. I’ve gone three years without tasting human blood. I’m not going to fuck this up now. I turned on my heel and went back to the forest, as soon as I was certain I was covered by the thick swarm of trees I took off sprinting. 

Where am I supposed to go now? I need to get better clothes to blend in. I need to find a place to live. “Live”. To be frank, I had it pretty easy. I never had to worry about this kind of stuff. In the distance, I can hear cars sporadically driving on the wet pavement. If there are cars, there are people and if there are people, there are clothing stores and libraries. I changed my direction in order to run parallel to the highway giving myself about a half a mile distance between me and the road. 

It wasn’t much longer, maybe twenty miles or so before I saw neon light tinge the fog and the smell of car exhaust got stronger. Smelled disgusting. I thought about how I would be able to wander into some random mom and pop shop to get clothes without sticking out. I’ve been practicing my self control but it’s much easier when I hold my breath. How can I go without talking to the small town locals without seeming like a bitch? I guess the only thing I can do is hope what they say about first impressions isn’t true. 

Luckily enough for me, the river, which had dwindled down to a creek, ran close enough to the highway so I could wash my feet and legs so I could look less dirty and homely. Unfortunately, about every person I passed stared at me. Everyone has dressed appropriately for the wintery beach weather. Except for me. 

The first clothing shop that looked like it could have clothes for people “my age” and nearly completely empty was the first one I walked into. I bought nearly everything. Well, bought is a loose term. It was about four days after my transformation that I realized I had an ability. A “super talent” he called it. If I want someone to do something I want, they do it. It’s never something intense like falling in love with me or giving me their kidney or anything like that. It’s small stuff like if I want their approval I got it. If I want their coffee, they hand it over. Small stuff like that. 

The shopkeeper handed over around six hundred dollars in merchandise with a bright smile on her face. I made a mental note to make an anonymous donation as soon as possible. Sometimes I felt bad about swindling people, sometimes I felt like it was a necessary evil. A girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do. 

It wasn’t that hard finding the library after the shops, and lucky for me, the librarian allowed me to stash my shopping bags behind her desk. The public computer whirred to life slowly, I could practically hear the viruses worming around. I wasn’t quite sure what I was looking for, or even where. I tried local listings, Craigslist, even some dark web shit. It wasn’t until I caved and made a fake Facebook account that I was able to find a single bedroom apartment to rent. 

The man who owned the place was rather kind. I hardly had to use my ability to sway him to let me live rent free for the next foreseeable future. His name was Ernie and he had quite the beer belly and a bald spot on the back of his head, reminding me vaguely of a freshly cracked egg.  I assume that he felt quite flattered that I was flirting with him. Actually, it could have been the innate human experience of being my prey who is inevitably lured to his death by my inhuman womanly charm. Who could say?

The apartment was painfully small but fully furnished. I couldn’t say if it was fully furnished as a part of the lease, which I did not have, or my newfound landlord was just too caught up in our conversation. I’ve been told I dazzle people. Whatever that means. A large full length mirror hung in the bedroom and I took a full look at myself for the first time in a long time. 

My dirty blonde hair was a mess. I think I can see a dread forming in the curly mess. My black eyes peered back at me in disbelief, how could I let myself go like this? Dark circles clung around my eyes covering the splatter of freckles on my face, I looked like I hadn’t slept in weeks. More like years, I chuckled to myself. I need to feed soon. An uncommitted corner of my mind thought aimlessly about what animals are in my vicinity. The other portion of my mind looked back in the mirror. I still was pale as before, still more beautiful than I ever was as a human. It’s weird, feeling this conceited but it was true. My very nature was to lure humans in, even more so with my ability. I can get humans to literally lay before me, neck exposed. But, I promised myself a while ago to never feed on humans again. 

This place was definitely not intended to be left fully furnished, a laptop laid on the desk in my new bedroom. I realized I never learned about this town before I decided on it. The ocean picked me. I wiped the laptop and set it up under my preferences. This time, password protected. My google search reminded me I’m currently in Brookings, Oregon. I had made a mental note earlier when I saw the welcome sign out of the corner of my eye on my way into town. 

Oh, perfect! I exclaimed internally. There is a local community college that happened to offer marine biology courses. Marine biology was my intended major before this happened to me. Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I’m being an idiot and making stupid choices by surrounding myself with humans. But, honestly, I’m lonely and I don’t think I can take this punishment much longer. 

Part 2

[ckret2]

Cuckoo

Continuity: Godzilla, Monsterverse continuity Characters: Mothra & Godzilla, in a platonic/sibling relationship; with passing mentions of a half dozen other kaiju species. Wordcount: 7000 Summary: How Godzillas keep their young safe when there’s a plague of parasites that wants nothing more than to breed in their corpses; how Mothra’s miraculous rebirths are achieved with nothing more than a few DNA tweaks and a simple biological timer; and how a reincarnating moth and a radioactive lizard form a symbiotic relationship. Notes: Look at me properly formatting this fic instead of tossing up a makeshift summary and going “good enough.” Warnings for some gore and casual cannibalism. My other KOTM fics can be found on my blog under the #my writing tag.

###

"So, it's like a bird's entrusted egg."

"What is this, 'Bird's Entrusted Egg'?"

"Entrusting an egg... Some birds will lay their eggs in the nest of another species when they can't care for them."

- Professor Omae, discussing an unhatched Godzillasaurus egg found in a Pteranodon nest (Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla II)

###

This was how nature worked:

The Godzillas ran. The Jinshin-Mushi hunted. The Godzillas fought alone. The Jinshin-Mushi fought together.

The Godzillas fell.

The Jinshin-Mushi bred.

###

Their species went by many names—phosphor mouths, starbacks, walking fish, screes. They went by many names because they didn't claim any as their own, answering to whatever they were called by others. And worse names: death breaths, crocodile corpses, bug breeders, brood parasites.

Today, he was a brood parasite.

The brood parasite dragged himself onto the island, clutching his one surviving egg close to his chest. He spilled his own blood on the shore, so hot it sizzled where it hit the ground; he could feel stones tearing at the gaping hole in his abdomen, but couldn't lift himself enough to keep from making his wound worse. It didn't matter. He was dying soon anyway.

In his ruined abdomen he could feel the eggs the bug had put in him, nestled hard beneath his hide like tumors. He wished he'd had a chance to put his egg somewhere safe and get far away from it so the incubating bugs wouldn't be able to go straight for his child when they hatched.

He wished he'd been able to put his egg in a nest that he knew he would accept it.

But he didn't have that choice. This was the only nest he could reach. He'd just have to take a chance on the charity of an unproven species and die hoping.

He dragged himself to the nest's narrow opening. Down through the hole, he could barely see the shell of the egg already occupying the nest. Carefully, he lifted his egg and slid it through the opening. His grip slipped. He watched with dread as his one egg rolled down the incline toward the other.

The slope evened out and the egg rolled to a gentle stop, right next to its new sibling.

There. He'd done the best he could for his child. He pushed more soil in front of the entrance, trying to make the opening a little less obvious. And then he turned and dragged himself back toward the ocean. The only thing he could do for his child now was get the bug eggs inside him as far from this nest as possible...

The brood parasite died on the shore.

And then he was just a bug breeder.

###

This was how nature worked:

Mothra was born alone, knowing everything.

Mothra grew wings.

Mothra circled the world, visiting her many nests. If a nest's egg was broken or hatched, she laid another to replace it, its DNA encoded with her every memory up until the moment the soft shell closed around the newly-formed embryo. If a nest's egg remained, she touched it with her telepathy, resetting its internal countdown to hatching, encoding her new memories into its DNA.

As long as a Mothra existed to check the nests, no egg would hatch.

Eventually, Mothra died.

The eggs' timers counted down toward the day they were set to hatch.

One egg reached zero.

The egg hatched. Mothra was born alone, knowing everything.

The only species of titan that laid more eggs than Mothra was the Jinshin-Mushi. But, unlike Mothra, the Jinshin-Mushi formed swarms of innumerable parasites. They devoured the world alive.

There was only one Mothra. There was only ever one Mothra.

###

Hatching was like waking up after a long sleep, but far slower.

Hatching used to be terrifying—waking up without remembering having fallen asleep, being trapped in a small dark tight place. Mothra used to fear she'd die inside her shell without being able to tear free. So a long time ago, she'd rewritten herself from the inside—she could do that—so that her emotions felt different when she first began to wake up, so that the inside of a shell was no longer frightening.

At first she only changed one egg so that its future incarnation wouldn't feel fear when she hatched. Changing herself like that was always dangerous, always carrying the risk that she’d do something wrong and cause the next incarnation to die; so she was cautious with such alterations and only experimented with one egg at a time.

But eventually that egg's turn to hatch her reincarnation came, and she woke up healthy and safe and calm; and now all of her eggs carried the same change.

Not every egg faithfully recreated her the way it was supposed to. Sometimes the reincarnation that came out couldn't lay eggs, and so he spent that generation protecting his existing eggs all the more fiercely, passing on his memories faithfully and waiting until he could reincarnate as herself again. Sometimes one egg carried two incarnations, and they would tumble into the world together in a confusion, and together she and herself would have to navigate being one person in two bodies—although, usually, one would be sickly and soon die, if not both. Sometimes she would hatch to find another reincarnation already alive, one that had mutated in its shell, one that was small and hard and sharp and mean, one that couldn't speak to other minds and couldn't mentally alter its own body and couldn't speak to its eggs to reset their timers; and for a generation they would live together, and she would fear it would try to kill her.

But never, in all her lives, had she ever hatched from an egg to find a second one sitting next to her.

She stared at it, wondering if maybe she was somehow mistaking a large scrap of the eggshell she'd just ripped out of for an entirely separate egg. But no, it was definitely solid and whole—and it definitely wasn't one of hers. Had someone else dumped one of their eggs in her nest? The audacity! Did they see the opening to her burrow and think it was a convenient little nest they could steal without having to create their own? Or did they hope their child would hatch before she did and have a nice tasty egg to snack on for its first meal? She'd see about that.

With some difficulty, she tipped the hard egg onto its side and pressed her soft squishy new body against it to roll it up and out of her burrow. It radiated life and energy. The opening to her burrow crumbled as she shoved the egg through; she let the dirt and sand rain down on her.

Outside, she let the egg stop, crawled around it, and surveyed her island to see how best she could roll the egg out to sea and be rid of it.

There was a corpse on her island.

It was so massive—ten times her height—that half the meat had desiccated down to jerky before it could rot. A hip bone and broken ribs shone white where they stuck up out of the remains of the meat. In spite of the ancient body’s deterioration, she could still see how its abdomen had been ripped open. She could see the old, round shells of unhatched bug eggs.

Mothra stared in shock at the dead phosphor mouth. And then she looked at the egg.

She understood. She knew how phosphor mouths desperately tried to protect their children from parasites. They'd never tried to leave one with her before—her nests so cold and isolated, with a parent that only checked them every few years—but he'd had no choice.

Her nest was his child's only chance.

She cleared the dirt away from the opening of the burrow, carefully rolled the egg back in, and set it back where she'd found it.

###

Her hatching must have awakened the phosphor mouth's egg. Two days after she hatched, it started shaking; the day after that, she saw the first crack in its hard shell. That was probably how its species worked; the eggs must somehow know to hatch when their nestmates hatched, so that their adoptive parents would be more likely to see them as part of their brood. Were other species ever fooled by that, she wondered? She had seen families with a single phosphor mouth among them before, but she'd never known why the eggs hadn't simply been kicked out of the nests like the brood parasites they were. Did other species, like her, pity the eggs?

Phosphor mouths ate her eggs sometimes. They weren't the only species that did so, but they were one. She suspected strongly that sometimes they ate her. She rarely ever knew how she died, since she couldn't pass the memories of her own death on to her eggs—but enough phosphor mouths had tried to eat her that she was sure some must have succeeded. She wasn't their primary prey, but she was their prey. She wondered whether the child inside this egg would know that.

This was an experiment, she supposed. An experiment to see whether she survived. An experiment to see whether a phosphor mouth left in the nest of its prey would see its fellow hatchling as family or food.

The next day, a chip tumbled off the side of the egg. Mothra carefully climbed the egg to peer inside the small hole.

A yellow eye peered back.

And then it was replaced by a snout, trying to poke its way through the hole, snorting and sniffing heavily. Its mind was only just waking up, but it was so curious that it made her feel curious too. She squished her face against the snout.

The phosphor mouth inside squeaked and jerked back. The egg shook as its center of balance shifted.

Mothra dropped back to the ground and left the egg alone.

###

Every once in a while, she'd see a muted blue glow from within the egg, accompanied by small yelps, as the phosphor mouth tried to blast its way free. She occasionally rapped on the egg encouragingly, just to let its occupant know that she was still there. Sometimes the occupant rapped back.

It took another two days for phosphor mouth to free himself. She was outside when it happened, but she heard the crackling shell, the thump, and the hatchling's squeak of surprise. When she peered into her burrow, the hatchling was on his side, legs kicking, back plates flickering blue with alarm. He managed to roll onto his stomach and stayed there, flopped in the remains of his shell with his arms down at his sides and his chin on the ground. He was the same vivid green as the trees on her island.

Hello, she thought to him. He spasmed in surprise, got up to a sitting position, and stared up at her. He was too young to think in words yet—but he felt excited to see her. He felt... attached to her.

That was a good sign. It meant that his species probably didn't eat their nestmates. (What would she do if she was wrong, though—or, rather, what would her next incarnation do? If she died now, she wouldn't be able to go to her other nests and pass on her memories, rewrite her eggs so that they'd know that they should smash any brood parasite eggs that made it into their nests. When her next incarnation came to the island to see how her egg was doing, would she see the two smashed eggs and the dead phosphor mouth and be able to tell what happened? She liked to think she'd be smart enough to draw the obvious conclusion.) She crawled down the burrow, and he crawled up to meet her, walking awkwardly on all four.

I am Mothra, she said as he sniffed her. This is my island. You were left in my nest.

Although he didn't have words, she could feel a question in his mind: Mother? Father? She could feel he wasn't asking whether she had laid him—who had laid him was irrelevant to him, never entered his mind—he was asking who were the adults of this nest. Who was protecting them.

She hadn't cocooned yet—she was stronger and lived longer if she waited before cocooning, and anyway she hadn't wanted to be a bag of goo when the phosphor mouth emerge from his egg. No adults, she told him. Just me, another hatchling.

For a moment, he was struck with terror at the thought—No adults. No one to teach us or protect us. But before she could try to reassure him, he pushed through the terror, studied her closely, and came to a decision.

I will protect, he concluded. Sister.

Mothra was taken aback. He'd been out of his shell for only a few moments, he'd been confronted with the possibility that he was going to have to face the world all alone as a baby with only another baby beside him, and his first instinct was to become the other baby's protector. Despite the fact that they weren't even the same species! Despite the fact that, if he'd been a few decades older before meeting her, he would probably be trying to eat her.

I can protect, she told him. And he believed her with the whole-hearted faith with which babies always believed the thoughts she put in their heads. Too young to tell the difference between an inserted thought and an instinct.

And with all concerns about who was going to protect him gone, he wriggled past her—squishing into her side in the process—stumbled up the burrow, and emerged into the sun for the first time.

###

Phosphor mouths were cannibals, she discovered.

Almost as soon as he got outside, her new nestmate—her "brother," she supposed—had spotted the corpse of his real parent, gleefully charged over on oversized feet, and started eating its neck.

Mothra stuck out her proboscis. Yuck. She'd do the same in an emergency, but she would never be so happy about it.

He did it with such self-assurance that it had to be an instinct. Maybe that was why the meat hadn't rotted away but toughened in the sun, so it would last until the egg hatched? Maybe the adults expected to die and be fed to their children?

It had to happen a lot, considering that the adults were so likely to die before their children hatched that they'd made a habit of leaving their eggs in other nests.

With a strip of neck meat dangling from his mouth, the hatchling ran around the side of the corpse and dove into the ripped open abdominal cavity. Mothra stuck her proboscis out farther.

She heard a crackling sound, and then a crunching that was far larger than anything he could be biting. She crawled down beside the corpse, trying to see what the hatchling was doing.

He was eagerly kicking and tackling the bug eggs in his parent's abdomen, collapsing them in on themselves, crushing their contents. His mind felt like he was playing. To him, this was a game he was born knowing how to play. Find the meat, eat the meat; find the eggs inside the meat, pop the eggs. It always amazed her how many different species were born ready to play games that would, someday, be turned into desperate fights for their lives. It was how they trained themselves, she knew. Even if nobody took the time to teach them how to fight—and what to fight—they would be driven to teach themselves because it was fun.

She sometimes wondered what instincts she'd had when she'd been born the first time. What games she'd played. But she couldn't remember it.

He kicked one egg and it crumpled in—but something inside stirred. He yelped in alarm, tried to kick it again, and tumbled onto his back. Mothra hurried toward him.

A prematurely born bug scraped and clawed its way out of the egg, hissing, its long eyes glowing red. It swiped at the phosphor mouth.

Mothra splatted a ball of silk against its chest, sticking it inside the remains of its eggshell. And then a second one on its head, and a third on its chest again. The phosphor mouth headbutted its chest until its shrieks gurgled and died and its juices oozed through Mothra's silk.

And then he ate its head.

He turned to look at Mothra, crunching happily through bone shards. We protect each other. He squeakily roared at the dead bug, lights flickering ineffectively up his back plates and ending in a tiny puff of blue; and then he stumbled off to explore the shore.

She was beginning to see why other species liked having a phosphor mouth in their nests.

###

This was how nature worked:

The Godzillas ran. The Jinshin-Mushi hunted. The Godzillas hid their eggs. The Jinshin-Mushi passed over other creatures' nests, seeking only their adult prey.

The Godzillas fell.

The eggs survived.

###

I will be asleep for a few days, she told the phosphor mouth. She put into his mind an image of her cocoon. I might dream, but I will probably seem dead. Don't touch me and keep me safe.

"I'll protect you, sister," he reassured her, with a hint of childish giddiness at the thought of the grand battle if he had to keep the promise, but mainly with deep solemnity. His hatchling playfulness had faded fast, along with his early green coloration, shedded like so many scales until all but his belly was a dark blackish-grey; and although he was a happy child—she'd done her best to make sure of that—he was also a thoughtful one. Not curious, not questioning, just thoughtful. Thoughtful—and a little bit skeptical.

I'm going to have wings, she told him. She'd told him before—she'd been warning him about her pending metamorphosis for months, not sure how much preparation he needed to be sure he'd still recognize her once she emerged—but a last reminder didn't hurt. I can control what colors they have. I can even put some images on them. What do you want them to look like?

He considered that a moment. He was—of course—skeptical; but she'd never given him a reason to doubt her. "Can you make them look like anything?"

She found herself marveling at the fact that every single word in that sentence came from a different species's language.

He'd learned to speak from creatures living underwater and on nearby islands, and talked to her now in a hodgepodge of at least twenty languages from seven or eight different species—whatever grammar he felt made his current point and whichever mix of vocabulary he could fit into the shape of his mouth and throat and tongue—and she made up the difference in his comprehensibility by reading his intentions straight from his mind. Most phosphor mouths she'd seen before spoke a heavily accented version of their adopted family's language. She wondered if anyone would ever be able to understand this one besides her.

Not quite anything. And I can't change the shape of my wings. But I can put most things on their surface.

"Do flames!" he said.

Oh. Of course. She'd been reassured by a volcano pter that visited sometimes that all kids had a pyromania phase, but Mothra wasn't entirely sure that didn't just apply to pters.

What would flame look like—red, orange and yellow stripes, make them wiggly and end the stripes in points? I can do flames.

His face lit up.

He watched in rapt fascination as she cocooned herself; and then, as she dissolved into her cocoon, he lost interest—from the outside, it probably didn't look like anything was happening—and drifted off to gnaw at the picked-clean bones of his parent.

Her mind unraveled and she began to rewrite her body.

###

When he saw her flames, he got so excited that he ran around the island yelling blue light at the sky.

And then—to her surprise—he sat down beside her and started playing with her new thin layer of white fuzz, combing his claws through them. Being combed was new. It felt nice.

"Are you always fuzzy?" he asked her.

Only if I have a long time to eat and grow before I change, she said. If I have to change fast after hatching, I'm thinner and smooth.

"How fast can you change after you hatch?"

Within a day, if I need to. But I die a lot sooner.

His hands froze.

Don't worry. I'll die a lot, but I'll always come back. I have eggs all over the world.

"Right." He felt more uncertain than he sounded. She'd told him this before, but he'd never seen it. He would soon enough.

You'll get to see them for yourself soon. It was why she'd metamorphosed. She'd stayed on this island with the young phosphor mouth for as long as she could. The dead phosphor mouth with a belly full of bug eggs probably meant that the bugs were swarming on the mainlands again, and she didn't want to expose a young phosphor mouth to that any sooner than she had to—especially when she wasn't able to teach him to fight, the way a volcano pter or sea serpent could have taught him. The islands were relatively safe; bugs rarely left the main continents. But her eggs would hatch soon if she didn't go to reset their timers. So she had to go. And he was coming too.

She could tell the thought of her dying made him more uncomfortable than he wanted to face—because he tackled her, butting his snout on her wing in a fake bite and growling threateningly. She squeaked in surprise, but she was used to this game, and she quickly tried to knock him over and silk up his hands before he could get a good grip on her. The first time she got out of snout-butting range, she took off, and he called her a cheater.

They stayed one more night—so he could rest and she could stretch her new wings—and then, the next dawn, they set out from their little island.

###

"What's your name?" her brother asked. He was completely submerged except for the end of his tail, sticking out of the water like the tip of an iceberg, and his words were half telepathic and half bubbly gurgles.

Mothra, she replied, perched on an actual iceberg nearby. She kept having to shift her feet to keep them from getting too cold.

"That's your kind." He must have been speaking with the volcano pters; that was the term they used for different intelligent species. "I mean your name."

My kind and my name are the same. Names are to tell apart multiple members of one kind, and there’s only one Mothra.

He was quiet while he considered that. The tip of his tail disappeared underwater. Mothra took off, rubbing her feet together to warm them up.

Volcano pters are named after their nests, her brother said. He was so deep that Mothra could only hear his thoughts.

Yes, I know. Sometimes they ask me where I hatched because they want to call me by my nest. My name would change every time I hatched if I did that.

Is my name Infant Island?

Oh. So that was what he was asking. No, it's not. You're not a volcano pter. She landed, waiting for the inevitable next question.

What's my name?

He didn't have one.

And she felt horrible.

Volcano pters named their kind for their nests—the volcanoes they emerged from. Sea serpents named their kind for the specific shapes and colors of the light that glinted off their scales when they curled through the water, as though their names were written across their bodies and could be read in the sunlight. Skull faces were named for the first sounds they made that sounded like words. She had met phosphor mouths with all three kinds of names, and far more besides—some, even, with multiple names. Phosphor mouths didn't have names of their own; they accepted whatever names were given to them by the people around them.

Mothra, whose name and species were synonymous, who was born over and over already knowing her name—it had never occurred to her that her brother would need her to give him a name.

Once, one of her mutated false reincarnations, small and hard and sharp and mean, unable to enter Mothra's mind, had insistently pressed itself to her side until she entered its. Give me a name, it had pled, desperate and afraid. Don't you know a thing without a name isn't alive? Give me a name or I'll take yours. She had named her nightmare Battra.

She hadn't named her own brother.

He surfaced before she had a chance to answer him, clutching the sunken egg he'd been rescuing. He looked up at her, head just over the surface of the water, eyes wide and curious, gills half out of water and rippling, and—

Sweetiefish, she told him. You're my Sweetiefish.

She'd come up with the name on the spot. She was relieved when he was delighted.

Mothra landed on the iceberg and her brother—Sweetiefish—climbed up beside her.

He dropped the egg next to her and asked, "Is it still good?"

She lay on top of it, pressing her face to the frozen shell, listening for her dreaming future self inside.

Nothing.

No, she said. It's dead. It probably isn't even good to eat.

"Oh." Sweetiefish radiated disappointment. Mothra rolled the egg off the iceberg and back into the water.

Come. She lifted off and fluttered toward the island that the egg had rolled off of. Sweetiefish sank back underwater and followed her. We'll make my next nest in a hill where a glacier can't carry the egg away. We'll have to stay here a few days so I can lay a new egg.

Can I bring you food?

She'd told him that she needed to eat a lot when she was going to lay an egg, and plantlife was sparse and small this far north.

Just don't go farther than I can hear you.

And he didn't.

But she wouldn't be able to keep him so close forever.

###

"Evolution" is defined as a change in the inheritable characteristics of a biological population over successive generations, as expressed in the genes passed on from parent to offspring.

###

Mothra traveled between her nests more slowly, now that she had a juvenile phosphor mouth tagging along. They moved fast over water, where Sweetiefish could easily swim fast enough to keep up with her; but more than once she had to leave him behind somewhere safe for a day or two so she could reach eggs deep in continents.

She was afraid to leave him alone for too long. The world wasn't overrun with bugs like she'd feared, but it was still half-barren from the last plague, and the remaining starving bugs crawled around looking for food. Sweetiefish was younger than their usual prey and wouldn't make a good meal for many bugs or good incubator for many eggs; but he was healthy and strong, and had a tendency to start flashing threats at any unidentified moving object that was larger than his eye. She didn't know if he knew to be afraid of bugs. To this day he still liked stepping on and popping round hollow things, but that wouldn't be much help against a full-grown bug.

Once, she hatched alone.

She didn't know what had happened to her last incarnation; all she remembered was seeing a bug in the sky heading in the direction she'd left Sweetiefish, and frantically resetting the egg's timer to hatch immediately before tearing off after it. If her last incarnation hadn't come back to re-extend the egg's timer, then she'd died fighting the bug. But had she won? Was her brother okay?

She forced herself to metamorphose in a few hours and came out hungry and frail and small, but fast and sharp. She tore off toward the coast.

She found herself—her last self— and she found the bug, both dead. They'd only been dead for a few days. They hadn't made it to the coast—but the bug might have signaled its siblings. She stopped long enough to eat her previous incarnation's corpse for strength, leaving the fire-patterned wings, and raced on to the coast.

He was where she'd left him, curled up just off shore, letting the surf wash over him and over him, nervous in his aloneness. The moment he spotted her, he clambered to his feet, shaking himself dry as he ran onto the shore to meet her. He wanted to know why she'd taken so long. He wanted to know why she looked so small and weak. Was she okay? Did she get in a fight? Was she hungry? Why were her wings green now?

Because she hadn’t wanted to be seen as she raced over the forests back to him.

She relocated all of her eggs to coastlines—bays, islands, straits, deep river deltas. They would be more vulnerable there, where aquatic ovivores would have an easier time crawling ashore to get at them; but it meant she'd never have to leave her brother behind.

She rewrote her eggs so that all of her future selves would place their eggs on the coast, too.

###

Mothra lost more and more eggs now. Each time she made her rounds, she had to stop for long periods to form and lay another egg—which meant she slowed down, which meant she couldn't visit her eggs as often. Laying so many eggs in one lifetime wore her out. Sweetiefish asked if she could lay them less frequently, then pleaded for her to stop; and when she said she couldn't—her future survival depended on it, even if it meant threatening her short-term survival—he lurked nearby, whining unhappily as she strained to grow another healthy egg.

Her lives were shorter. Two eggs in a row hatched mutated and sharp. She had to replace more and more eggs. Maybe she should just have fewer nests and visit them more often.

"I'll protect your eggs," Sweetiefish said.

What do you mean? Mothra had felt him brooding on the problem of her eggs for days now. He was old enough to do that now, brood rather than just think. He wasn't quite as large as the typical adult phosphor mouth, his belly was still a pale foggy grey, and his back plates were still mostly rounded—but the plates were just starting to develop their sharper points, and he had an adult's roar.

Adult phosphor mouths, she'd learned from other adoptive families, visited their home nests, but usually lived solitary lives in the ocean. She'd wondered—and worried—about when he'd decide that it was time for him to go. She'd lived a dozen lives next to her little brother. She wasn't ready for him to leave.

But it seemed he was ready. "Your eggs are eaten because nobody's scared to eat them," he told her. "Even if you're there when someone attacks, all you do is tie them up or get poison scales on them that knock them out a few minutes. Of course they come back and try again when you're gone. If I'm there, I can kill them."

Mothra winced at the thought of it. She knew he could—she knew he had—but all the same, she hated the thought of killing. She was expendable; she could die and die again and forever come back. But everyone else—for them to die meant a person vanishing from the world forever. No one else had eggs that carried their next selves. They would not rise again. And the thought of that, of people around her ending, made her ache.

But Sweetiefish was determined. And if she kept losing eggs at this rate...

"I can swim between all your nests now," he insisted. "I can make a route like you do. I can check on them all the time. If I catch anyone trying to eat one, I can kill them. If they've already eaten one, I can track them down and punish them."

But how will I know where you are? she asked. What if you get in trouble?

"I can protect myself if I'm in trouble."

We protect each other!

He balked at that. "You can hear me, can't you?" he said. "Won't you be able to hear me if I'm in trouble?"

She thought about that. From across a continent? Across the world? she asked. I don't think I can. But—maybe I could.

He began his patrols. She followed along—which slowed him down, but she promised it would only be until she could adjust her eggs just right.

It took three tries. The first time she ruined her hearing completely. The second time, she could hear far too much, much too far, and ultimately it ruined her hearing again. But the third time, she got what she wanted: after metamorphosing, when she closed her eyes, when she focused hard, no matter where she was, she could hear his heart beating and the distant rumble of his mind.

###

Mothra heard Sweetiefish scream from halfway around the planet.

She tore off as fast as she could. She was grateful that she was currently fully grown; but she wished she was more aerodynamic. Her fuzz dragged against the air. She was too slow. She needed to get to him faster, faster, faster.

It was over by the time she reached him. She didn't know what had attacked him; just that she could see the blood it had left behind long before she landed, and she wasn't sure how much of it was from the attacker and how much was from her brother.

She could hear his thoughts long before they were close enough to speak: You're wearing the fire wings again. The ones you made for me.

I like the fire wings. She tried not to let him feel her terror.

His neck, his chest, his arm were lacerated. The bleeding had slowed, but it started again every time he tried to move. He lay on his side in front of her burrow, blocking it with his body.

Who did this? She landed next to him.

"Three-headed freak," he growled. "Flying. Lightning. Couldn't understand him."

She went cold with terror. She knew them.

She'd seen a meteor crash down, tracked it, and found three creatures sharing one body tugging themselves out of it like they'd hatched from it. She'd felt that they were like her—that their minds could speak to other minds. She'd tried to greet them. She'd tried to ask their name.

They had no name. A thing without a name isn't alive. She'd feared them then.

She'd felt their fear of her, and they'd fled.

She hadn't seen them since.

Were they hunting her eggs now? Were they destroying her future incarnations? Had they attacked her brother just because she'd frightened them?

She ran her legs over Sweetiefish's wounds uselessly—even if she cleaned them and kept him safe, she didn't know if they could heal before he died.

Maybe he couldn't heal himself. But...

Let me in! I need to get to my egg!

He could only shift a little bit, rolling on his side—it looked so much like the pose his parent must have died in, torn open on yet another island between her burrow and the shore—no. No, no, she wasn't going to let that happen. She crawled into her burrow and clung to her egg.

She could rewrite herself.

In her cocoon, she could rebuild herself from dust and liquid into a new body, a whole living body. She could shed poisonous scales from her wings that paralyzed her targets. What if she made a potion instead of a poison? What if instead of paralyzing whoever she shed them on, she gave them the ability to do what she did—to regrow from dust and liquid, to regrow from torn flesh and blood—to heal wounds instantly, to be filled with life?

She only had one chance.

She clung to her egg, forehead pressed to the shell, not so much rewriting the future incarnation inside as tearing the existing writing into fragments and sticking it back together in new ways,  please, please, please let this work—

She set the egg to hatch immediately. The incarnation inside didn't waste a moment gently shifting around in the shell, but rather fought, struggling to get out so they could save their brother. She waited for the incarnation in the shell to make the first crack, and then tore it open the rest of the way herself, ripping her duplicate incarnation into the world.

It hurt to be ripped into the world. And it would hurt to cocoon herself so fast. But they didn't have a choice.

"What... are you...?" Their brother's voice was weak and gravelly. The grown Mothra had been helping the younger spin her cocoon—every second counted—but at Sweetiefish's voice, she scrabbled to the mouth of their burrow to reassure him.

It's okay, she told him, butting her head against his and hoping he couldn't feel her fear. We'll save you. Just hold on.

"'We'?" he asked. "No, don't—I got hurt saving your egg, don't make it mean nothing—"

I'd rather have you than one egg, she said angrily. Anyway, it's too late. I already did. Just hold on a little bit longer.

The moment she felt her younger incarnation's mind stir again inside the cocoon, she scrambled back down, helping to tear it open and set her free. She was the spindliest and weakest that Mothra had ever been, shaky on legs like twigs, a shriveled abdomen that would never lay eggs, a head almost too heavy to lift. The elder had to support her as they climbed up to the opening of the burrow. Please, please, please—

This should heal you. Feebly, the younger Mothra brushed her wings over their brother, shedding the loose scales on him.

He flinched, and looked weakly up at them. "Your poison?"

It's not poison anymore. It shouldn't be poison. I rewrote it. It'll help you. I promise.

It stings. He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tight.

I'm sorry. Just hold on.

They could feel his flesh heating up under the scales; they could see the scales working into his hide as they crumbled apart, smaller and smaller. They could very nearly see his wounds begin to heal. But it wasn't enough. He needed more.

The elder Mothra ripped off the younger's wings.

Sweetiefish's eyes shot wide open as her pain echoed through his mind. He roared feebly. What are you—?!

It's okay. It's okay. Just wait. She shredded and crumbled the wings, grinding them into his wounds, ignoring his screams—and then, when the wings were gone, the body of her younger incarnation. She endured the pain, trembling.

This was one of the only times she would remember how her own death felt.

There was nothing left to give. Her brother's flesh was burning to the touch. He was glowing red. But he was healing—wasn't he? She could see his wounds closing. She could feel his strength returning to him.

Until, finally, half wild with pain, he lurched to his feet, stumbled away from her burrow, and launched himself into the ocean. Steam billowed out of the water around him.

It was several minutes before she could get anything from his mind but overwhelming pain. Are you okay?

I'm alive.

That was good enough.

You got rid of your poison, he said. How will you protect yourself?

I'll put it somewhere else. She could make a stinger. Turn the poison into a liquid venom.

You died for me.

It isn't the first time, she said. You're my Sweetiefish. I'll die a million more times to save you. Just make sure I can come back a million and one times.

He crawled back onto the shore, stood wearily, and trudged up to her. "Always," he said. "We protect each other."

Always.

###

"Evolution" is defined as a change in the inheritable characteristics of a biological population over successive generations, as expressed in the genes passed on from parent to offspring.

Over several generations, rewriting the genes of her eggs one by one to make sure she could better protect Godzilla, Mothra evolved herself into a sister.

###

Humans were the smallest intelligent species that Mothra had ever seen. She adored them. Together, they built structures out of wood and stone the size of a normal creature's nest. Even as large as one of her nests.

She wondered if they'd build nests for her, too.

She visited the human cities with the largest buildings—she liked the ones that looked like free-standing hills with flat sides and even corners—and in each city, found twin sisters, and modified one so that she would be like her: able to birth her own replacement without a mate. She guaranteed that her chosen would also birth twins, so that they could share the heavy mental load of her vast mind. Life, she had found, was so much easier with a sibling.

Then she waited for a new generation to be born and grow; and with the twins as her representatives, she spoke to the humans: she told them that she would like their help to build a stone nest around one of her eggs. She would help them in the construction, and she would offer their city her protection if they accepted. If they didn't want to, she would respect their decision.

Some didn't accept. She left them in peace.

But most accepted.

And when others came along to threaten the civilizations that harbored her eggs, as the divine moth had promised to the humans, a creature with a scream like blue fire rose from the ocean to defend them. And above him, like sunbeams through the storm, the moth herself appeared to fight alongside him, with the eyes of her warrior emblazoned upon her wings.

###

This was how nature worked:

A Godzilla risked his life to guard Mothra nests.

Mothras gave their lives to save the Godzilla's.

By chance, a single Godzilla and a single Mothra were brother and sister.

But there was only one Godzilla. All Mothras were one Mothra.

This was how two species evolved a symbiotic relationship.

###

Comments/reblogs are welcome! If you want to leave a ko-fi tip or like the fic on AO3, the links are in my description.