#this moth is about to adopt someone else's child again!

[mouse-drawings]

What's better than one cute baby? Boom! Two cute babies.

I've seen some art around about this and I think this is the safest way to introduce Grimmchild to Leif. One other way is summoning and fighting a god, which preys on the flames of dying kingdoms. No thanks.

[neonpaperlanterns]

I hope you are willing to hear a hollow knight theory.

So, Broken Vessel shows some "life" before kicking the bucket after being"cleaned" of the infection puppeteering its body.

And knows nail arts. While they are a mere puppet during their boss fight. We can see them use Dash Slash, at the very least. In the boss fight.

So, what if Broken Vessel was this unknown Esmy that Sly was following in his infected dreams when we woke him up and sent him back to his shop.

Esmy the broken vessel, a named vessel. Wonder where'd they get the name from. How would Sly know it since Vessels can't speak?

What if, Esmy the broken vessel was a adopted child of Sly. Maybe not adopted per say but taken in by him at the very least.

Learned nail arts alongside the nail masters, and stayed with Sly until something drew both them and consequently Sly. Down into the earth

Broken Vessel, or Esmy is one of three surviving vessels we run into. Who may not be alive for long but still, they lived through the boss fight only to stare up and reach towards us after being freed from the infection. Then they slump, never to move again.

Another vessel we know nothing about, yet could've ran into if Hornet didn't get to them first. Was the vessel slain by Hornet (Don't know who else at that point would impale the vessel with its own nail so hornet is my best bet.)

Only theory I have on it is that. Someone taught it how to stitch if it made the cloak itself, otherwise someone gave it the cloak either as a gift or as a transaction. Maybe Moth and Esmy had a sibling relationship under Sly as hands for his shop?

I love the vessels so I wanted to run some thoughts on these two, unknown, possibly child-like automatons of Void and Soul.

Thoughts?

I am always willing to hear a hollow knight theory.

This makes the Broken Vessel fight all the more heartbreaking and I am here for it.

The idea that what was keeping Sly trapped in his own mind, slowly being over taken by the infection, being him searching for his missing child is just really good. And it would make sense as well.

I imagine that Esmy felt compelled to venture into the depths because well the Little Ghost is, so I see it as something all vessels just need to do. An innate desire if you will. So Sly would follow after them, possibly Esmy was the last of the his children to leave and Sly had grown worried. He seems to know where the other nail masters are but where could Esmy have gone?

And they reach out in their final moments of lucidity because they recognize something about the Ghost. Be it that they are the same or maybe it’s in the way they fight. Reminiscent of their family they didn’t get to say goodbye to.

I get the impression that the Broken Vessel and the one found in Greenpath did not know of each other. We are still unsure how any of the vessels even escaped the Abyss. At least if my memory serves correct.

It’s possible they helped each other but I see the vessels not wanting to be around one another. There is nothing to gain with further interaction because they are made of god and void. Empty creatures waiting to be filled. They would not gain that from another vessel. So they part and find something that will belong to them. That will give them something that will fill that void that was forced upon them.

[luna-light-eclipse]

YOU SAID YOU HAD NO ASKS AND IM FIXING THIS.

LITTLE TRAVELLER WOLF. remember. I Do. i remember everything, luna. And am i still thinking about the light-suppression cuffs and the moths and the Eliksni and--

Think about it again,,, always bleeding a liquid light, trying to stop the hatchlings from trying to eat it (still crying). the family that basically adopted them while they were out of it, and who they stayed with when they were themself again. the wolf plushie...

I never forget,,,

Saladin watching someone he’s always seen as a powerful warrior deteriorate into something almost akin to a child but it is not quite that either- no it is something else, something wrong. A slow acting poison ending in death set upon Wolf by the people they should have been able to trust the most.

Do you remember Wolf in the wilds? Travelling alone to a destination they don’t remember? Resting in hunter hideouts they had made or been trusted with, admiring the light of the stars, and the moths of course.

The Traveller only wanted its favoured guardian back, taken from it for being too good, too powerful. It can do nothing but give away as much as it can until its power is warping the foundations of Wolf’s body and soul into a form that cannot remember itself. Saladin looks upon Wolf whose arms glow with bright white Light, whose fingertips are ever so slowly beginning to melt into nothing. At the near ever-present liquid Light tears running down one side of their face out from under freshly replaced bandages. Their body is covered in fissures, bodies shouldn’t do that they think- for a moment until the very capability of thought is gone again.

This Light is a gift. Each time Wolf looks upon their wounds they know that they are loved. This Light is a gift that leaves everyone questioning if Wolf is even human anymore. They can see through walls, hear what no one else can. The Traveller speaks, they alone hear it.

Then once they are free from their quite literal shackles they remember the hands that stemmed their bleeding, who cried once their blood stopped running red, who walked them through the city and bought them the one thing they had ever wanted.

Eliksni arrive to the city and Wolf can feel the Traveller welcome them, even if the humans do not. It is awkward, always, for they worship the traveller and it’s Light is Wolf’s body. There is little else left. Though they are not alone in their stilted interactions with Wolf- no one is quite sure about how they are supposed to speak to them, to the one the Traveller loves. Except for the ones who held them together when no one else would, those ones still treated them as human.

The Eliksni endure the animosity thrown at them. Ask for nothing from no one. They have endured, they do not need gifts to survive. But the Traveller still answers their silence, through Wolf’s voice it tells them that they’ve found peace, finally, they’ve done good, they can have the Light now.

…But not in so many words, Wolf has never been one to speak after all. Let everyone decipher their actions instead.

[lumilasi]

UPDATE: I needed something to warm up before working on a new thing, and I recalled that I didn't fully like how I drew her hair; it looked like a mess rather than her having curls, so I fixed it. The top part of her hair is still a bit ehhh, but I didn't know what to do with it yet.

more info below:

Name: Marisa Marisol-Raye

Nicknames: Risa/Mari-junior/junior (her moms) firecracker/hun/Mari (Gianna)

Age: 21

Height: 155 cm

Friends: She does like occasionally hanging out with her GF's brother marco and his friends as sort of a "big sis" figure. She's also made close friends with Max Karuna, a member of a popular rock band, as Marisa has helped working on their stage shows.

Family: adoptive moms Marci Raye and Mariella Marisol

Love interest: Gianna Aquila, a young designer student in the same uni (A siren)

TREE LORE

Moth spirits are human souls reborn in new form through what is called a Hive Tree. There used to be 7 of those, but after the Ancient War only 3 are left. Each tree attracts slightly different types of souls with unfinished business:

Amethyst Wisteria:  A purple tree which reminds a massive Wisteria tree in appearance, the spirits manifested by this one are typically those who were in some way significant people in their community, dying unexpectedly. Leaders, warriors, freedom fighters, etc.

Emerald Weeping Willow: A green tree similar in likeness to Weeping Willows, only again much more massive. Souls born from this tree were those with tragic, darker sudden deaths. These souls were typically killed by someone in a non-war setting (I.E victims of crime) or they died of self-inflicted injuries caused by mental distress of some sort.

Blue Lapiz Spruce: A large tree in likeness of blue spruce. The souls that this tree attracts are typically those who died in a freak accident or natural disasters. This tree tends to birth a lot of child moth spirits, given it is more likely for a child to die of a freak accident/natural disaster than be of a level of importance/die due to crime. (Marisa naturally came from this tree)

Powers:

Moth Spirit abilities: Speedy flight, butterfly poofing like a vampire, spitting webbing, pocket dimension to store stuff in, de-manifesting her wings if needed.

Fire protection magic: She has learned spells to coat her whole body and/or her tools to prevent them from being damaged by potential fires from her work. (Her wings are naturally fireproof, but nothing else is.)

Engineering Intelligence: She is studying for an engineer for a reason; Marisa has always been good at learning new things and understanding the fundamentals of how things work, both on the magical side and the physical side.

Weaknesses:

Marisa can be a tad reckless and push the boundary of what might be the smart approach to her tinkering, resulting in explosions and unnecessary messes.

She is socially a little awkward and doesn't always know how to act in crowds, which often means she'll just tag along her girlfriend during any bigger celebratory events, unless she finds people who are more her vibe, typically those who are up to shenanigans. (Such as Max, who acts as sort of a big sis figure to her)

Marisa has a fear of the ocean and doesn't like being in large bodies of water; when younger it was even difficult to get her to bathe at first, but by now its only large bodies of water that bother her.

Personality:

Marisa is very positive and enthusiastic person with never-ending curiosity. She loves trying out new things and testing her hypothesis, whenever it is about her inventions or whenever a flavor combo for food works or not.

While you wouldn't think of it at first glance, Marisa absolutely loves fashion too and enjoys trying out all sorts of different looks and outfits, the only real rule that she follows being "colorful" pretty much.

Due to her social awkwardness, she is sometimes self conscious and wonders if she's being too much, apologizing a lot if she feels she's talking too much for example. She also tends to want to avoid big gatherings of people, unless she gets to actually work with something. Marisa also has the tendency to dwell in any awkward conversations she's had with people for days.

FUN FACTS

She was taken in by Marci, who happened to be visiting the Blue Spruce area given she is acquainted with the wife of one of the guardians of the tree. She came to stay there for a while to try and recover from a traumatic incident that led her quitting her earlier dangerous job.

At first she felt hesitant adopting the kid, but during her stay it became clear Marisa had already chosen her as her new parent, so she decided to at least try.

They met Mariella two years later, and Marisa "shipped" them from the start, as she could tell instantly the two liked each other, and Marisa liked Mariella.

Marisa was from Mexico when she was a human, and died due to drowning at sea, potentially because she accidentally fell off a boat during a storm. (had there been any foul play, she would've been born a green moth)

Her name meaning "of the sea" refers to her manner of death as is typical for Moth spirits.

She likely died somewhere in the 60:ies

Out of the other moth spirits, she's only met Yoruga personally, given she does go to the cafe sometimes with her moms that he works at.

Marisa is Bi

Because of her thick fluff around her legs, she doesn't need to wear long trousers or leg warmers during winter, still sporting shorts or skirts, just of thicker fabric.

[gravitasmalfunction]

Zero waste bag quilt

Summary:

Leftover threads, yarn, waste fabric and fabric scraps too small to be usable get cut up to form the quilt filling. (If you are recycling previously used fabric, make sure it’s thoroughly washed and dried before you cut it up.)

Fabric waste and leftovers of a useable size are cut into regular size rectangles or squares (the book recommends 5-6 inches by 3 inches).

The rectangles are sewn on three sides, filled to about a third and no more than half, and then closed up.

The quilt itself is comprised of these small bags joined into a large rectangle.

Because it will be heavier and denser than a contemporary ready-made, store bought polyester quilt, make sure to shake and air the quilt regularly.

Source: Needlework Economies: A Book of Mending and Making with Oddments and Scraps, edited by Flora Klickmann. Available at gutenberg.org

Full excerpt below the cut.

The Economy Quilt.

Bedclothes become an expensive item when there are several beds for young people to be made up, as well as those for their elders. Yet warmth is essential, if their health is to be maintained. In the winter, there usually comes a night of sudden cold, so raw and so intense, that it seems next to impossible to put too much on the beds. Every spare blanket is turned out, and every eider-down, and still there is not enough! Next morning someone is sure to say they never got warm all night! Of course, eider-downs are ideal. They are warm without being heavy. But real eider-downs are expensive. Here is a substitute that was popular in our grandmothers’ day. It is simply a quilt formed of small bags, sewn together like patchwork, each bag containing a certain amount of snippets and clippings. Very simple, isn’t it? And yet these quilts, that cost practically nothing, are invaluable in the cold weather. Put one of these over the outside of the bed, and the sleeper keeps as snug and warm as though under a couple of down quilts. One great advantage of this quilt is the ease with which it can be made. A child can always run up a little bag; a child can also cut up snippets, if it is old enough to be allowed to use a scissors. Mother can run round a few bags with her sewing machine, just before putting it away after doing needlework. In this way the bags accumulate in a surprising manner; and joining them together, a few at a time, either by hand or with the machine, is not laborious or brain-wearing work.

The Method I Always Adopt. For some years now, I have made it a rule always to have one of these quilts on hand. If I do not need it myself, when it is finished, I always know someone who can put it to good use. Any woman who has an elastic family and a non-elastic purse, is glad of one for a gift. I save every scrap of material that would otherwise be wasted. If it is not new, I have it washed and thoroughly dried. All this waste goes into a bag that I keep hanging up in a cupboard in my bedroom. I never allow a large amount to accumulate, lest moth should get at it. I have seldom more than a couple of handfuls at one time waiting to be dealt with. On my chest of drawers I keep a box. In this there is always a pair of sharp scissors. When I have a few moments idle—between the lights when it is too dark to see much else, or when my eyes are too tired to do work requiring close attention—I cut up a few of the scraps from the bag into snippets about an inch square sometimes smaller, never larger. I put these in the box.

Worked in Sections. Then again, whenever I have any bits from dressmaking, or mending, or darning, it has become second nature with me to cut them up there and then into snippets, and put them in the box. In fact, I always have the snippet box on the table beside my work box when I am sewing, and the bits go in as a matter of course as I go along. It keeps me so tidy. Everything comes in useful, even fragments of darning wool, ravellings and basting threads! I save any scraps of material large enough to make the bags; a useful size is five or six inches by three inches. I run up three sides of these when I have a spare moment; put in a small handful of snippets, and close up the end. These I put in a drawer till I have time to join them together. I always machine mine together, as it is the quickest way. Do not fill the bags anything like full, or the quilt will be impossibly heavy. If you fill the bag about a third full, or at most a very loose half-full, that will be quite enough. Each little bag just wants a slight thickness inside, to give the extra warmth, much the same as we sometimes line quilts with a layer of cotton wool between two cotton covers. The reason we put the clippings in little bags, instead of into one bag, is to keep the stuff evenly distributed over the surface of the bed. Otherwise, every time the sleeper turned over, or disarranged the coverings, there would be the chance of all the clippings slipping over, and collecting themselves on the one side or the other of the bed, or possibly all falling to the foot of the bed. A quilt made of the bags, not too full, can be shaken and kept thoroughly aired. Almost any sort of material can be used for the bags, provided it is not too delicate in colour, as one does not want to have a quilt of this sort frequently going to the cleaners. Strong stuffs are best, such as cretonne, serge, stout print, sateen—anything in fact that will stand some wear. Mix cotton clippings with wool clippings in each bag. Obviously the quilt will not need any lining, as the back will be fairly neat. If you like, you can finish the edge with a cord; but I myself always aim to get the outside bags all of one colour scheme; this in itself makes a certain finish���a kind of border—and I just leave it at that. After all, these quilts are not for ornament so much as stern utility; nevertheless, they can be made to look really pretty, if a little care and taste is expended on the placing of the various colours and designs.

[annadelveys]

the jesus guy timeline for my friends, please dont be weird about this post ok im just sorting my thoughts.

the timeline is CRAZY, we met 6 moths after his wedding (we used to go to the same summer camps but saw each other at 14-16 last, and then again as adults), i immediately got a major crush on him, he clearly Liked me as well, we met up like once a year at someone's wedding, then we hooked up at his brother's wedding (we did not actually sleep together but it was very close) after he told me that his relationship with his wife is Not Good and he told me that he doesn't want to have kids with her. THEN one month later he adopted a child?? with her?? meaning he was straight up lying to me lol, that made me reconsider & there were like 2-3 passive agressive years when i just couldnt stand him but also, somehow, we would always end up talking to each other at gatherings like i would do my best to avoid him and suddenly there he would be and we would talk till 6am... and i got like over it, i mean i never get over anything, but i just saw him as a friend & someone who's good to talk etc. then he adopted another child one year ago and ever since he's been on my tail lmao he asked me several times to go to bed with him, he "jokingly" propositioned a threesome (im joking... unless???) (not with me and his wife, with me and another guy) and it's just so fucked. he and his wife have this like open marriage & everyone knows about it, it's not like he's just telling me, its a well-known thing (even though he's not sleeping with anyone else atm he just Looks at me longingly. his children adore me (of course, most children adore me). and now his mum is telling me how he's always talking about me and how he 'likes me the best' and 'always talks about me' and how she likes looking at the two of us together and how we just fit. like what am i supposed to do with this shit? It's been going on for so long and obviously, at the beginning, i was madly in love with him but like I'm an adult person, there are other people, im not like sitting around waiting for him but. oh my god. his parents love me a lot btw & that just doesn't help anything.

[kotosnoozy]

「fourteen」 chapter 1

"Yuri did confess to me about one crush. First one he ever had, I’d wager, from how nervous he seemed. I had expected it to be Lady Estellise here,” Hanks says, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as she flusters, “but the one detail he did give me certainly ruled that out quick.” “O-oh?” Estelle stammers. “Mmm, well. Apparently whoever they are, they’re significantly older than him. About 14 years, I think he said.”

On the nature of Yuri's first crush.

He hadn’t thought much of it at first.

Hanks’s fond babbling about Yuri over their extremely well-earned dinner is incredibly revealing about the usually cool-headed leader of their motley crew. The old man proves himself a riveting story-teller, keeping their entire party entertained for hours on end despite the incredibly long and taxing 48 sleepless hours they’ve had.

(‘Though there was almost a permanent sleep in there for some of us,’ Raven finds himself thinking morbidly, before digging his bitten-down nails as deep into his ankles as he can to distract himself)

It feels like the only time any of them stop smiling and laughing is to take another mouthful from their bowls of curry, piled high from the seemingly endless and eternal pots of the stuff in the knight’s mess hall (or in Rita’s case, to test out another formula against the system Alexei’s locked the princess into - luckless so far, but she’s yet to lose determination).

Hanks has provided all sorts of anecdotes: the adventures of a baby Yuri who had just learned to walk, quicker to his feet than Flynn but still only babbling in response to the younger’s full fledged scolding - their dynamic had formed incredibly early on, it seemed; fond recollections of helping him to learn to bind properly, their first real bonding experience that had endeared them to each other as adoptive-grandfather-and-grandson; prideful recounts of Yuri’s development from childhood cynophobia into a renowned dog-lover, of all the other little things Yuri had been scared of as a child and grown out of in time (and those he hadn’t - Raven makes a few mental notes for later reference); all the fights Yuri and Flynn had gotten into over the years, and the brief interlude where they had dated in their teens (‘If anything,’ he laughs, ‘the bickering became even more frequent at that point - thank heavens they didn’t last!’); and of course, everyone’s old favourite - that one time 2 years ago when he’d thrown Adecor into the river on tax day.

Raven’s heard that one on a number of occasions from all four of the people who’d been present when it occurred - it somehow never gets any less funny.

While most of Brave Vesperia and it's honorary members are thrilled to learn more about their favourite rebel, Yuri himself is less than happy about Hanks laying out his life story for everyone to see. It's plain on his face - the grimace of a man who appreciates how much his parents love him but would really prefer they didn't tell his date about the time he streaked naked through the town and peed in a fountain at 5 years old. His embarrassment is palpable, a pink glow to his ears that slowly spreads to his cheeks the longer and more intimate Hanks’ stories become.

It’s as he brings up Yuri’s childhood dream of joining the knights so he could sweep a princess off her feet, pointedly winking in Estelle’s direction, that their so-called fearless leader bolts to his feet. He spins on his heel, making a beeline to the other side of the room, and plonks himself violently between a bewildered Adecor and Boccos, immediately thrown from their confusion into annoyance as Yuri’s food slops all over both of them.

His previous dining companions merely snicker in his wake, Hanks chuckling fondly.

“He’s always been so easily riled, that boy. If this is how flustered he gets over just you lot hearing all this then I can’t even imagine how he’ll be when he finally shacks up with someone.’

“Wait, but didn’t you say he dated Flynn when they were younger?” Karol asks, head cocking to one side.

“Well between you, me and our gatepost friends here,” the old man says, leaning in - they all follow suit, as Hanks’ eyes pointedly glance over to Flynn, “I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings if he hasn’t realised, but I always got the impression that Yuri was far less invested in their relationship than Flynn. It was Flynn who asked him out, after all.”

“My, that does surprise me. Yuri’s always seemed like he’d be the more proactive of the two when it comes to romance.” Judy muses.

Hanks raises his eyebrows, thin lips twisting into an uneasy frown.

“Wait a minute,” Rita says, leaning even further forward. “You’re not saying Yuri never had feelings for him are you?”

He winces, gaze averting. Raven feels his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

“They’ve always loved each other, of course. But the tone of that love seems to differ between them. Their relationship was what happened when they tried to figure that out, it seems, but ultimately…”

“They just weren’t compatible as partners of that type?”

“Right.” he nods to Estelle. “In all honesty, Yuri might give off the air of someone with considerable relationship experience, but it’s Flynn who attracts more attention. And seems more interested in others in turn.”

Raven finds his gaze wandering between the two in question - Flynn has managed to find himself eating amidst a small crowd, knights and lower quarter folks alike, all of them doting on him and telling him stories, and him listening attentively to each of them in turn. Yuri, meanwhile is… wrestling with all three of the ex-Schwann Brigade’s most prominent knights simultaneously. Astounding.

“Yeah that tracks.” he finds himself murmuring, nails scratching through the chest hair that rises above the collar of his shirt. Even if Flynn wasn’t the most eager to please others between the two, the young man radiates a natural charm that draws others to him like a moth to a flame - it’s hard to forget how he was upstaged the time he took him drinking in Dahngrest. Yuri, meanwhile, has a proclivity for trouble and a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth with his wit. While endearing, he can’t imagine it’s the most efficient for pursuing new connections - even if he’s managed to attract all of the motley crew Raven’s currently sat with.

“So Flynn’s a secret ladies’ man and Yuri, despite all the pomp and swagger, has absolutely no game?” Rita snickers, casting a wry look across the room at Yuri that he’s too distracted to notice.

“Well I don’t know about that. Flynn’s a man’s man if nothing else, never shown interest in women to my knowledge. But… I don’t think Yuri’s ever actually been interested in dating , full stop.”

“No way, really?!” Karol barks. The exclamation draws the attention of the groups sat closest to them, even Flynn, momentarily, before they go busily back to their meals. Flynn’s expression as he looks at them is pondering, almost puppy-like, and Karol’s panic is practically visible as they watch him seemingly wrestle with whether to come over and see what the fuss is about. Then the woman at his side taps a hand to his elbow gently, and his manners win out - she successfully steals his attention back around, all of his interest in their discussion completely forgotten.

“Well. It certainly seems that way anyway. I remember him asking me, back when they dated, how he would know if his feelings for someone were romantic. He didn’t seem to understand my answer very well."

“That’s unexpected. I suppose my advances have all been vain!” Patty whines. Raven finds himself snickering - whether Patty’s affections are genuine or not is one mystery he's yet to solve, but her playing it up is never any less entertaining or fun to tease.

“Though now that I think about it… he did confess to me about one crush. First one he ever had, I’d wager, from how nervous he seemed.”

Patty surges forward onto her hands and knees, scrambling to get in Hanks’ face. Surprisingly, he’s not that caught off guard - perhaps used to it from Yuri’s exuberance as a child, or that other kid from the lower quarter who’s off chasing Repede on the far side of the room.

“I need all the details, matey! Don’t spare a single one!”

Hanks chuckles.

“I’m very sorry young lady, but he didn’t tell me all that much! I had expected it to be Lady Estellise here,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as she flusters, “but the one detail he did give me certainly ruled that out quick.”

“O-oh?” Estelle stammers.

“Mmm, well. Apparently whoever they are, they’re significantly older than him. About 14 years, I think he said.”

“My my! That’s quite the considerable age gap.” Judy coos, tone teasing in spite of Yuri’s absence. She turns over to look at him, sitting atop a pile of knights and triumphantly tucking into a second of four bowls (spoils of war, Raven would wager) - they all do, in fact.

“Kid’s got taste at least. Nothin’ quite like the mature allure of an older lady~'' Raven sing-songs, half-joking. Rita jabs him in the side harshly.

“Shut up old man-- you said you thought it was Estelle he had a crush on right? So are you saying this is recent? ”

It’s like a switch flips in all of their heads simultaneously. Faces filled with shock whip to look at Hanks, who sits sheepishly clutching his bowl.

“Whoops. Might’ve let a little too much information slip on that one. I was probably meant to keep that detail private…”

“Oh my go--”

Rita slaps a hand over Karol’s mouth before his shriek draws too many eyes over. They all meet each other's' gaze one by one - Yuri's crushing on someone for the first time ever at this exact moment - before turning to look back at Yuri again. He’s mid-mouthful, spoon clutched in his hand like a shovel and sauce dripping down his chin, as he turns to survey his surroundings and catches their eyes.

“What?” he chokes out around his mouthful, just audible over the bustle of the rest of the room. He must see the sheer shock on their faces, as concern starts to cross his face and his gaze wanders to Hanks. “Wait, what did you tell them, old man?”

Hanks chooses that exact moment to get up, incredibly swiftly for a man his age.

“Well, thank you all for keeping me company, kids, but I must be off to… check on other people in… other parts of the castle. Right. Goodbye.”

The speed at which he heads for the door is quite remarkable - Yuri barely manages to scramble off his knight-pile-cum-throne before he’s gone from sight, and presumably halfway down the corridor before Yuri makes it out of the room after him.

It’s a shock, that much is certain. Raven hadn’t thought Yuri would be interested in older women - or people he supposes, he’s never really shown any inclination to anyone before in a romantic sense, so certainly not any specific gender. He’d never much struck him as the type.

But then he hadn’t struck him as the type to be interested in any type of relationship until this curveball of a conversation had come along. So hey, why not. If Yuri was into older people, he certainly wasn’t intending to torment him about it. Other than maybe one opportunely timed quip.

Honestly, he really hadn’t thought much about it at first.

But then the kids throw their own curveball.

“I can’t believe Yuri likes someone so much older than him!! Like, I guess I get the appeal of someone a little older than you for like… security or something, I dunno. But man, 14 years!!” Karol exclaims, as quietly as he can for his excitement. “I wonder if we know who it is.”

Rita barks a laugh, catching a distracted Patty off-guard. She begins anew whatever calculations she’d been making on her fingers as Rita shrugs exaggeratedly.

“I bet it’s some big-boobed motherly-figure in the lower quarter or something.”

“Well if all he wanted was big boobs and a nurturing personality then I’ve been here this whole time, all he had to do was ask!” Judith sighs, sly smirk giving away her lack of sincerity.

“Hey,” Patty pipes up suddenly, drawing their attention. “Isn’t Raven about 14 years older than Yuri?”

He feels the cogs in his brain whirr to a stop.

Suddenly, he is thinking very much about it.

“Oh yeah!” he hears Karol chirp. No doubt he checks the calculations on his own fingers, but Raven doesn’t register it if so, hard as he’s trying just to think at all. “Haha, that’s a weird coincidence!”

Estelle giggles.

“Imagine if it was Raven he had a thing for!”

He feels their eyes on him instantly, but it takes a moment for his brain to catch up. His own eyes must be wide as saucers, as they look at him, the mirth starting to fall from Estelle’s expression - he forces a ridiculous grin to his face.

“Haha, yeah imagine that! Someone like Yuri fallin’ for a washed up old fart like me!” he cackles, voice strained even to his own ears. “That’d be ridiculous!!”

The kids buy it though, Karol laughing along before pulling the others back into their debate about exactly who the mystery object of Yuri’s affections could be. It’s Estelle whose gaze lingers on him, just a moment or two longer, as the facade starts to crack, but she must see it - the silent plea in his eyes - as she turns back to the others not a moment later.

If anyone notices that Raven is mentally tapped out until they all go their separate ways for the night, then they’re at least polite enough not to mention it.

⇷-------------

Raven is a strange one.

This is Yuri’s third time meeting the man (or fourth, if the time Rita threatened to set him alight in Capua Torim counts as an actual encounter) and in all honesty, it’s hard to get a read on him past him being very obviously shady.

He seems as though he might be someone of consequence, if the quality of information he so casually throws like bones to random guards is actually as quality as he would have them believe. Either way he’s certainly silver-tongued, plying the others in Yuri’s makeshift travelling party into submission fairly easily despite their initial apprehension about him. Karol and Estelle are charmed by him, by his goofy antics if not the lolloping drawl of his accent, though they make no effort to hide the fact that they find him fishy. While Rita is far less taken, she seems to be placated by him taking her punishments, both fire and fists, like a champ.

The charm isn’t exactly visible to the naked eye though. He skulks at the back of the group, heavy footed and posture slouched. His clothes all seem far too big for him, obscuring the shape of his body in a way Yuri supposes is meant to make him seem unassuming, and he’s already displayed a number of habits that he knows would make any upper quarter noble’s toes curl - picking at his ears and the skin around his nails, before chewing at the nails themselves.

He has to admit though, he’s quite handsome in the face beneath the mess of dusty brown hair. Not in the same way as Flynn, with his big blue eyes and tousled blonde hair, the very picture of a storybook knight. His crooked nose, chapped lips, stubbly chin and hollow cheeks certainly make for a more unconventional type of attractive, but they all come together to create a certain appeal. The brightness of his eyes certainly helps too.

Also the combat prowess. Fighting ability is always an attractive quality in Yuri’s opinion, but especially in a travelling companion.

For a self-professed old man, Raven’s far more nimble than Yuri had expected. Sure, he’d made quite the getaway back in Capua Nor after he’d sold them out, but he’d assumed that’d been a one-off desperate sprint, not the norm. Apparently he was wrong, based on the nimble footwork he employs to dart out of the way of a particularly feisty howler. It doesn’t escape his notice how Karol nearly falls flat on his ass when Raven rushes past him and twists himself at an insane angle to fire an arrow across the way, skewering a beetle between its mandibles before it can take a bite out of Estelle.

“Woah, Raven!! Yuri, you’ve got some serious competition for your acrobatics now!!”

The bark of laughter leaves his throat unwittingly.

“I didn’t realise there even was a competition!”

He sees Rita roll her eyes as she releases a torrent of water behind her, clearly disbelieving him and with good reason; he’s never been one to back down from a potential competition. He breaks away from the corner of the forest floor he’s been holding down, using the momentum to propel himself up and over Raven, carrying it into his sword as he flips to crash it down into the skull of another monster. Raven whistles appreciatively as it disappears into dust.

“Not bad, young ‘un!”

He throws a smirk over his shoulder, ego swelling at the genuine awe on Raven’s face.

“How’s about it, old man? First to twenty?”

The awe transforms into a grimace in an instant.

“Ahhh, I dunno about that. Ol’ Raven’s never really been one for competitions, let alone effort. ”

He scoffs.

“Oh, come on. We’ve got no choice but to fight to get deeper into the forest anyway, right? So why not make a game of it? Not like it’ll actually be any more effort than you were already putting in.”

Raven purses his lips, seemingly unconvinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he stares off, deep in thought, the blue-green seemingly increasing in intensity. For all he’s been putting on the act of a court jester, Yuri is certain in that moment that there’s a deep intelligence to the older man; something unspoken, a wisdom beyond his years.

(Not that he knows how old Raven is but. Well, he gets the feeling that while he’s certainly older than he and his travelling companions, he’s not actually pushing middle-aged yet like he makes out)

Fwip!

He comes back to himself to see Raven’s face closer than before, upside down, chin in line with his collarbone. His bow arm (and subsequently the bow itself) is extended past his shoulder, the other loose by his head having just fired. Behind him there’s a thunk. A screech. A pop. And then silence.

“Looks like that’s one ta me~” Raven coos, eyes hooded as he smirks. He rolls his back, lithe and catlike, to stand himself back upright, stretching his arms out until his shoulders crack. For all his complaining about aches and pains so far (extremely numerous for the time they’ve been travelling with him, maybe an hour at most), he certainly doesn’t move as though he has any joint issues.

Despite his shock, he finds himself laughing.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s just as charmed by Raven as the kids are. He’s never made a connection quite like this one; with someone who can go toe to toe with his dry wit, and make it out the other side without being angry with him. Rita had been the closest (since Niren at least, but Yuri prefers to avoid thinking about the only father he ever knew if he can). But while Rita’s great with a back and forth, she’s easily riled, easily flustered. It only takes one slightly wrong jab and she gets stroppy, or else loses all interest in the situation.

Raven, for all his strangeness, has so far matched Yuri every step of the way. They’ve fallen so easily into a steady banter, something of their own personal comedy routine for just the two of them, some form of it present even from their first encounter way back in that jail cell. To have someone who can appreciate his snark, and give it back just as good while they both know it’s all in good fun? He’d never realised just how much he’d appreciate a relationship like that.

So yeah, Raven’s a little suspicious. But as far as Yuri’s concerned, he’s willing to offer him the benefit of the doubt for the strange comfort he gets from their repartee, just so long as he doesn’t do anything too crazy.

He slaps Raven on the shoulder, moving past him to continue deeper into the oversized brush.

“You got me, old man. But don’t you worry, you won’t be holding that lead for long.”

Raven merely cackles in response, wordlessly filing in behind him.

-------------⇸

There’s only one real constant within their travelling party, and that’s that the sleeping arrangements are ever-changing.

It takes a little while for him to notice, though in his defence the first week or so he’s with them is certainly not a typical week. In the more recent days, they’d gotten lucky with inns having enough beds for all of them, but the first few nights had been entirely sleepless in the hustle and bustle of, y’know, stopping a war, taking down the Blood Alliance and colliding with an actual genuine-article ghost ship.

(He’s still not sure what that was all about if he’s being entirely honest, but he’s old and ““wise”” enough by now that he knows there are some things in this world that you simply shouldn’t question)

So it’s Nordopolica where he finds himself bedding down with his new companions for the first time. The constant hustle and bustle of Palestralle’s workers and the fresh colosseum season unfortunately means there isn’t much free in terms of rooms. On the plus side, the three double beds they’re provided are plenty enough space for them all to be able to sleep comfortably; Fomalhaut’s rooms are quite spacious, nothing at all like the army barracks of his youth (though he supposes that should be expected from a city that considers itself something of an entertainment hub).

Raven takes his time ambling in behind everyone else, absently watching how effortlessly Repede transfers his pipe from one side of his toothy maw to the other. Rushing would be pointless, in his opinion, because he can already envision how everyone will double-up. Rita is sure to claim a spot beside the princess, for whose sake she could not be more clearly continuing to travel for despite her protests, and Judy won’t want to get lumped with a snotty (though admittedly quite sweet) brat or some dirty old man she hardly knows - he’s gonna get stuck with the kid, and the two of them can have a very one-sided competition over whose shitty little brain can give them the most nightmares in one night, and Raven will be perfectly content with that, thank you very much.

(It’ll be him who wins that one - hormone-induced nightmares are nothing compared to the horrors your brain can produce when you have blood and a war on your hands)

And then Karol throws him for a loop by tossing his bag semi-gently to the floor before diving into bed after Rita , of all people.

She hardly even makes a fuss. There’s a yelp - what sounds like it could be the start of the protest Raven would expect from such a combination - before she settles almost immediately.

“Just make sure you don’t kick me awake again, got it?” she barks pointedly at him, before rolling to face away from him and promptly cocooning herself in the blanket. He laughs at her, kicking off his shoes and fluffing up his pillow, seemingly content.

Wide-eyed, Raven turns to the girls - surely he can’t be the only one caught off-guard by this, it seems unthinkable for Rita not to put up a fight to sharing with Karol , and there’s an exclamation of surprise right on the tip of his tongue - only to find them claiming the second bed for themselves, Judy helping Estelle to unfasten the complicated buckles of her dress. He bites his words back, head whipping away; much as the image of a pervert works as a brilliant cover to convince the kids of his idiocy, peeping on the possible-crown princess as she gets changed is certainly not a thing he’s ever aspired to.

And so he comes face to face with the final bed. His bed he supposes, strange as it may still be to him. Yuri’s already making himself comfy on the left side, shirt and jacket thrown over the bottom edge of the bed frame. He stretches his arms up and over his head, muscles rippling as he yawns. He catches Raven’s eye as they fall back down, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes.

“Looks like it’s you and me, old man.” he says, patting the sheets next to him with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

He can feel his own lips quirk to mirror Yuri’s, even as he fights to push down the instinctive panic.

“And here I was hopin’ ta share with my darlin’ Judy!” he whines playfully, flopping down beside him face first in a show of dramatism.

“Sorry, Raven. I just couldn’t miss the chance to cuddle up with Estelle!” comes her voice, sing-songy, from the bed she’s claimed. He can see, as he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees to get better situated, that she’s doing exactly that. She’s practically spooning the princess, face buried in short pink locks, and Estelle herself looks the very picture of a tomato (not that he wouldn’t himself with Judith’s considerable… assets pressed against him).

“Well so long as yer not a cuddler yerself, Mr Lowell.” he jokes, rearranging himself onto his back before pulling the duvet up to his chin. For all that they’re in less than ideal circumstances with sharing beds, he’s glad to see Palestralle don’t skimp on the furnishings for their inns - the linen is incredibly soft, smooth against the pads of his fingers, and it’s a smart fabric choice for an inn in so changeable a climate.

Yuri huffs a laugh.

“I think I can hold myself back this once, just for you.” he says, tone laden with sarcasm. He watches Raven with keen eyes as he lounges on his side, head resting in his hand. Raven wonders how he can sleep like that - how his arm doesn’t cramp in the night, doesn’t wake him up in a fit of panic when he can’t move it, breathing shallow until the blood flow returns. He forgets, sometimes, that not everyone enters a blind panic over the little things.

“Why, I'm honoured! Yer benevolence knows no bounds!" he coos back, nose scrunching in amusement. Yuri smiles as he reaches back and pats Repede where he stands by the bed - a silent request to turn off the overhead light. The pooch complies, trotting off with a clack of his pipe between his teeth - Raven’s constantly caught off guard by the dog’s intelligence, the number of strange things Yuri’s managed to teach him (or perhaps that the dog has taught himself? He’s still not fully certain how much of a hand in training him that the young man’s had), and this is certainly another for the list.

“Damn right it doesn’t. Better make sure you show me the respect I deserve.” he says. He meets his eyes again as the blastia clicks off, dousing them in darkness. They crinkle with mirth, the abyss within softening even more as Karol giggles at their antics on the other side of the room.

They find themselves in a staring contest, of sorts. Or maybe closer to a game of chicken? He’s sure Yuri sees it that way at least, if his unblinking gaze is anything to go by. For him on the other hand it’s… something else. What exactly he can’t say. He’s just... transfixed .

Because Yuri’s plenty handsome on his own - perhaps even beautiful, if that’s more your thing. Raven’s already seen him turn a great many heads in the short time they’ve been together, including both the illustrious head of Fortune’s Market and the great forgotten war hero himself. Maybe he’d even let himself cast an admiring glance his way, if he hadn’t picked specifically womaniser for Raven’s bullshit cover-up trait.

But when the sea-breeze blows gently, kicking up the curtains, and the moonlight shines into the room, it catches him just so. The glow is ethereal, transformative, and it brings out the hidden flecks of golden brown in the depths of Yuri’s eyes, spins the silk of his dark hair almost chestnut. And just for a moment, he can trick himself into believing she’s here, the Canary herself, laid opposite him with a fond teasing smile, and oh god the hole where his heart used to be aches to reach out and touch her--

But for all her perfections, Casey’s eyes had never glowed quite like that had they? Never stared directly into his soul, made him almost want to bury into her arms and let her shoulder his every burden for him. Her kindness had inspired, but never been so bottomless that he wanted to abuse it, had never come off her in waves to the point it was visible in every little line of her face despite any grandstanding. Never so gentle to the broken that he could almost convince himself that he doesn’t need to run, that if he’s seen he’ll be accepted wholly, flaws and sins and all.

Not like Yuri. Not at all like Yuri.

The curtain drops, or else the clouds must roll in overhead. Either way, the moonlight vanishes, and with it goes the last vestiges of the illusion.

“Aye-aye, sir.” he all but murmurs, his voice tighter than just moments ago. He hopes, as Yuri’s face twists in concern, that his own face doesn’t give away the turmoil of his heart.

“You alright, old man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Hah, maybe I have!” he laughs, but it sounds notably hollow even to him. Still, he doesn’t break eye-contact as Yuri seems to peer directly into him, seemingly scanning his every thought and feeling, hope and dream.

The last thing he sees as he slips into sleep is the gentle embrace of the abyss. While his dreams are plagued by nightmares, a broken body bleeding out in the sand, he finds it’s the best night’s sleep he’s had in years.

-------------⇸

The town is silent, other than the gentle rustle of the sea breeze through the trees and the crunch of the dirt path beneath his feet.

They’ve been here all day, but Yuri’s not sure he’s used to how incredibly peaceful Yormgen is yet. He’s not sure he ever will be, either. He’s used to the bustle of the city, the shouting of vendors and newsies in Zaphias’s main market as carts laden with goods and people roll by. It feels like there’s always a dog barking, a clock chiming, a baby crying in the city, and the background noise helps him to switch his brain off in a way that the country never can.

Halure had been quiet to him - the calm atmosphere of the day, the slowness of shop transactions and conversation, had already been a lot, but for there to be a perfect stillness as night fell rather than an increase in bustle as drinkers started to take to the town had been the real whiplash. Despite a relatively large population, the town didn’t have a single dedicated bar to its name, and it’d thrown Yuri for far more of a loop than he’d ever expected.

Yormgen is even stranger. There must be all of fourteen people in this entire town, he thinks, and every single one of them vanished into their houses the moment the sun started to set. The only conversation he's heard that he hasn’t been directly involved in since Duke showed up and smashed their apatheia (he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still annoyed about that) is that of his own travelling companions bickering over what to make for dinner with their limited ingredients as he stepped away to find their mysterious disappearing old man.

Raven took the loss of the crystal hard. Or at least, Yuri thinks he did. He certainly vanished quickly when they decided to wait around while Rita took some time to investigate. He’d been right next to him one second and then gone the next, before they’d had a chance to agree to meet back up for dinner at sundown. With no one having seen him all day since to let him know, it’d fallen on his shoulders to hunt him down and drag him back. Raven might’ve been plenty energetic on their first trip through the desert, but they all know better than to let him make the return journey on an empty stomach. The man eats like a bird at the best of times - he really can’t afford to be doing that now.

He’d grumbled and whined about it being him who had to go find him, but in all honesty he’s kind of pleased. He’s found himself surprisingly worried about the old man - this is the first time since they’ve started officially travelling together that he’s pulled a disappearing act. Normally it’s hard to get him to shut up for more than 20 minutes at a time, so the better part of a day without seeing or hearing from him at all is completely unheard of. If his silence doesn’t mean he’s curled up and died somewhere, then Yuri knows that he’s the only one of their party who stands any chance of fetching him with both of them left unscathed.

He’s explored the residential side of the town (if it can truly be called that) extensively already throughout the day. Not that it was hard to do - other than the homes of locals that are a bit further out, the town proper is essentially three big buildings and a deck. He’d quickly concluded that there were very few places to hide a man with a proclivity for such a bright shade of purple amongst the muted timber and the gentle green of the grass. The only conclusion he can come to is that Raven must’ve headed to the other side of town, to the sea of flowers that makes his sinuses itch just looking in their direction.

For all he knows they’ll give him a headache, the flowers are incredibly pretty. It had been the bushes of pink and blue trumpets that had caught his attention in the midday, as Estelle had run over to them in delight and plucked a few. She’d fashioned a few little fascinators, of sorts (a skill she’d learned in the finishing school she had no doubt been forced to attend as the potential future Empress), and spent the better part of an hour lacing them into everyone’s hair. If he looks back over his shoulder, he knows he’ll see Judith wearing the pink blossoms - rhododendron, Estelle had called them - with pride, while Karol nervously fidgets with his own, worried they’ll fall out, ruining the princess’s hard work.

Now, however, in the amber light of the sunset, it’s the flower tunnel that draws his eye. Not that he hadn’t noticed it before - it’s impossible to miss, vibrant as it is. But he’s never been the biggest fan of yellow, always a little bright for his tastes. The way the light bounces off the thousands of little flowers is certainly eye-catching though, setting them in such a way that their radiance is somehow easier on the eye. They’re impossible to look away from as he draws closer, some emotion he’s unused to, couldn’t possibly name, stirring in his chest. The chains dance gently in the breeze, bouncing against each other like a bead curtain, and something about it makes him nostalgic for the familiarity of the Lower Quarter.

Then he spots him, further in, beneath the boughs. His hand rests comfortably on the handle of the knife he keeps at his waist, the other left to the mercy of the breeze as he stares up amidst the blossoms. They bathe him in their glow, mingling with the dying rays of the sun, casting him almost golden . He’s mesmerised by the sight himself, it seems, completely off-guard for the first time in the couple of months Yuri’s known him - for all he plays the fool, Yuri would be an even bigger one not to realise how keenly Raven follows the every movement of all those around him.

But right now, he seems… defenceless. Open. Fragile. Unaware that a world aside from him and the sea of flowers even exists. He could do whatever he wanted to Raven in this moment, he thinks, and he just knows the man would be equally surprised by anything. Something about that knowledge, this vision makes his chest feel light, almost airy.

The image sears itself into his mind, unbidden, and he knows instantly. No matter how hard he tries he’ll never erase it.

“Laburnum.”

He startles as Raven speaks. Perhaps he hadn’t been as unaware as he’d thought.

“Huh?” he grunts dumbly.

“These flowers. They call ‘em Laburnum. Or golden rain in some parts.” he says, flicking his eyes (almost the vibrant green of dense aer with the glow) over to acknowledge Yuri. He goes quickly back to gazing upwards, almost reverent. “Pretty apt.”

Yuri finds himself eyeing the flowers again as he moves closer. They’re strangely shaped, the blooms, unlike any he’s seen before. The petals curl back and in on themselves, clustered closely together in a way that hides the little shock of red in their centres. Stranger still are the buds, gently curved in a way that reminds him of the plantains he’d seen in Dahngrest’s market.

From the right angle, they could almost look like birds in flight, or indeed a sudden burst of rainfall.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Raven’s lips quirk into a smile. His eyebrows set into something pensive, wistful even.

“They’re pretty rare these days. Didn’t think I’d ever get to see a single tree with my own eyes, never mind a whole grove…”

The melancholy that’s settled over him like a veil is impossible to ignore, his voice distant as though transported to another time. There’s a pressure at the base of Yuri’s throat as he watches him, finds himself wanting to do… something. He’s not sure what. Just anything to pull him from his reverie. But of course, in the end all he really knows is sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t have taken you as the type to know about flowers.”

It seems to work somewhat. Though perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised - he and Raven have always been strangely in sync.

“Wouldn’t be much good with the ladies if I didn’t know about little things like flowers, now would I?” he says, finally turning to face Yuri more fully. His eyes soften with mischief, and yet still seem tight with… well if Yuri had to put a name to it, he’d wager it was grief .

A half-joke then; his flower knowledge almost certainly learned on behalf of one lady, though he’d wager not women generally at all. After all, for all he seemed to enjoy playing the womaniser, his actions often seemed chosen to purposefully push them away if anything.

Yuri rolls his eyes in faux-annoyance. Raven smiles. It gets closer to meeting his eyes than he expected it to.

“I can’t imagine just throwing their names around is especially impressive. Seems more like the absolute bare minimum.” he says, hand coming to rest on a cocked hip. Raven’s smile widens, coaxed out of his shell somewhat by the familiar teasing routine.

“Ah, but whoever said I only knew their names?”

His eyebrows raise instinctively. To know flowers’ names is one thing, but any other details aren’t usually common knowledge; their language, how to arrange them, the best methodology for their care all usually things known solely by the upper echelons of society, or else those with enough money in their back pockets to take a chance on starting a related career.

“Don’t tell me…” he trails off, fixing Raven with a sceptical look. The old man’s face splits into a wide grin, hand coming up to flash a peace sign. Dork, his thinks impulsively as he huffs a laugh, surprised at the fond tone the word takes in his mind. Then quick as the cheer arrives it drops again, leaving the previous melancholic half-smile splayed across Raven’s face.

“These wouldn’t be much good in a bouquet though, pretty as they are. If bein’ deadly poisonous wasn’t enough, they’re usually used as a symbol of the forsaken. ” he muses, the last word spat like something dirty from his mouth.

“Who the hell would look at these and decide that? ” Yuri barks out. His expression must look as bewildered as he feels - Raven laughs at him, gentle but genuine.

“Yeah, it seems like a lot, right?” he says. His gaze drifts away from Yuri’s, losing focus and staring past him, through his shoulder. “She always liked them though, in spite of that.”

“...She?” he asks, carefully. He doesn’t want to sound eager, too nosey. Doesn’t want to push when the old man is this fragile. But he can’t help his curiosity - this is the first he’s mentioned of his past, the first clue to piecing together the admittedly fascinating mystery that is Raven. The man himself seems to realise it too, that with just one sentence he’s revealed a huge part of himself he hasn’t previously. Graciously, he doesn’t scramble to hide it away as Yuri might’ve expected.

“Ah. Old friend.” he says softly, as though divulging a secret. “She’s… gone now. But she was always a big fan of flowers. These weren’t her favourite but. She liked ‘em plenty.”

It slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Not like you to spill your past out in the open like this, old man.”

It takes all of his mental strength not to kick himself as Raven’s expression shutters, the nostalgia, longing , vanishing from his face in favour of something more carefully guarded. His eyes though, expressive as they are, can’t hide the pain.

“Ah. I suppose they got me feelin’ a little nostalgic. Forgive me.”

The silence stretches out between them for miles and miles as he watches Raven, Raven in turn watching the dancing laburnum above his head. His eyes flicker from bloom to bloom, as though cataloguing each one carefully, trying to commit their shape, their profile to memory. Yuri finds his eyes drawn to his lips as they purse, a gentle pout taut in a manner that gives away the nervous chewing of the inside of his mouth. His thick eyelashes fan over his cheekbones as he blinks, and Yuri hates the silence of the country, because it’s weird sappy shit like this that the bustle of the city helps him to avoid thinking about.

Raven’s a lot like these flowers , is the thought that springs to his mind, unprompted. And it’s ridiculous really. Completely nonsensical. The kind of thing Karol might come out with on a night where he’s overtired, that they’d all tease him for mercilessly until they pass out. But there’s nothing to distract him from it - he’s surrounded by the evidence, and the more he tries to ignore it the more sense it seems to make to him. The two parts of his brain war with each other, unrelenting, and he can feel the push and pull starting to show on his face.

Then a single blossom falls from the canopy above. It lands perfectly atop Raven’s bangs, perched there like a peepit in a tree, and he can’t fight the analogy anymore - Raven certainly looks forsaken, in that instant, the pain swimming in his eyes. And yet usually so bright and cheery, like the flower’s vibrant colouring, almost desperate for attention as he jokes around-- and then pushing people away, like a poison, when they try to get close. An exterior crafted to make you underestimate him, and yet a hidden strength, swift and deadly on the battlefield. A sunny disposition that washes over you like a summer rain, calming and refreshing.

He’s not sure anymore if the golden glow bouncing off Raven’s skin is from the flowers, or just simply the man himself.

A light breeze jostles the flower, and it slips from his hair. The strange shape hooks itself onto the crook of his nose and it wedges firmly, even as the wind picks up, cascading more petals down onto them both. Raven either ignores it, or doesn’t notice, his eyes falling closed as he lets nature wash over him.

He steps closer carefully, unthinkingly. He feels as a moth to a flame, though why he couldn’t say. He’s unfamiliar with the stirring in his chest that rises at the sight, doesn’t understand his compulsion to reach out, to touch Raven. To check he’s still solid and there, that he hasn’t been blown away on the currents of the wind like his namesake.

His hand reaches out, plucking the flower from Raven’s face gently. The old man startles instantly, eyes snapping open and meeting Yuri’s as he flicks the blossom to the floor. Raven’s eyes scan over him, looking for answers that he’s not sure he’ll find. Yuri certainly wouldn’t be able to explain if he were to ask. He simply looks between the sunken blue-green, carefully smoothing more fallen petals from Raven’s shoulders.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, voice practically a whisper beneath the howling of the breeze, far gentler than he’d expected it to be, “I think I understand why your friend liked them.”

Raven’s eyebrow cocks, ever so slightly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he answers, lips quirking into a small smile, something genuine and raw and delicate that he doesn’t recall gracing his face before. “They’ve got a certain charm, I suppose.”

Raven’s breath hitches - he doesn’t hear it, only sees the narrowing of his nostrils, the bobbing of his Adam's apple. His eyes are so round, as the melancholy starts to subside slowly, leaving something inquisitive in his wake. It’s an expression he’s sure he’s seen on Repede before when he was younger, still training, still struggling with learning to sit on command, and it feels strange to compare Raven to a puppy, but it certainly isn’t the strangest thing that’s happened to him in the last 24 hours.

It feels like hours before Raven breaks his eyes away, anything raw and gentle immediately traded for bluster and jokes as he ducks his head.

“What’re you doin’ hangin’ out with me amidst the flowers anyway?” he asks, voice a little hoarse as his teasing lilt starts to creep back to him. “The others will start to talk if we keep havin’ these secret rendezvous, young man! How scandalous!”

He slaps his hand to his chest, feinting horror at their make-believe tryst. Yuri snorts, socking him lightly in the arm. Ridiculous as his jokes are, he can’t help but be pleased to see him return to some semblance of normalcy.

“I came to get you for dinner, dumbass. After that, you can feel free to go on ahead to Nordopolica.” he says, turning back around to lead the way to the others with a nod of his head.

Raven snickers at his own antics, hurrying to follow after him as he pulls a hurt expression.

“What, you wanna get rid of me so soon?”

“Wrong.” he snorts, head turned pointedly away in an effort to ignore his self-deprecating jokes. “I just wouldn't want you to miss the new moon and your chance to deliver the letter all on our account.”

The beat of silence that follows is just a touch too long for their usual banter. He turns back to Raven, worried momentarily that he’s run off again and he’ll be on a wild goose chase for the rest of the night, only to find him following attentively behind him. He’s looking at Yuri, expression… totally indecipherable to him for once, actually. It’s a rare occasion for him to have no idea what the old man is thinking.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow quirking. Raven simply smiles, wide and catlike.

“Oh, nothin’ important~” he sing-songs, taking over the lead in the moment Yuri pauses. “Honestly, I could do fine without your concern.”

Yuri scowls.

“Wrong again.” he says, moving to keep pace, their back-and-forth continuing until they arrive back at the inn, and the campfire their party has set up.

(He never does figure out what Raven’s expression had meant on that day, but when he finds the small laburnum branch tangled in his hair alongside the rhododendron the next morning, he quietly stows it away in the bottom of Karol’s bag, heart fluttering strangely in his chest)

-------------⇸

The speed at which Mantaic’s locals manage to throw the party together is honestly quite astounding.

The stalls of the inn concourse have cleared their tables of their wares, already starting to accumulate piles of local cuisine - barely an hour since the news of the Flynn Brigade’s arrival started to spread throughout the town, whispers abandoned in favour of joyous cries despite the extreme early hour, and already there’s a feast to rival one for a noble. People of all ages are wide awake and gleeful, even very young children who don’t fully understand what’s happening squealing with joy at seeing their parents’ and older siblings’ excitement.

The princess tries to help where she can (as always) - shakily carrying huge steaming pots to their directed positions, assisting in dragging tables out of homes to line the streets. Were Flynn not so busy tying up loose ends with the stragglers of the Cumore Brigade, Judith’s sure he’d be dancing around her like a mother hen. Instead, Karol and Rita have become his stand-ins, getting roped into helping themselves albeit minus Estelle’s unshakeable enthusiasm.

She’s glad everything turned out okay in the end. It had been with great unease that they’d all drifted off to sleep the night before, distressed at their powerlessness, their lack of time. Battling with the princess’s impulsivity had been hard, especially in the presence of her big round eyes and quivering lips, but a necessary evil. There really wasn’t anything they could’ve done. Judith remains firm in her belief - it would be impossible to rehabilitate a man like Cumore in jail. Even with the combined influence of Flynn and Estelle, the strength of their idealism and naïveté, a man as corrupt as he would never conform to concepts like morals and ethics. He would only change in death.

The man’s fall from grace, while certainly better than allowing him to run amok, does little to satisfy her in all honesty. The townspeople, however, just seem glad to be free of his clutches, regardless of the flaws in the Empire’s justice system. She can’t blame them really - she’s sure she’d feel the same in their shoes, the ever-lingering threat of death by dehydration or being eaten alive finally lifted from their shoulders.

She’s glad for the lifting of the tense air that had settled over their travelling party the night before. That there’s a smile on Estelle’s face again is good too. For the sake of the guild, nothing more , she scolds herself mentally, quashing the leap in her chest as the baby blues smile in her direction.

She finds herself counted as one of the old souls on this occasion; the small group who are extremely pleased for the turn of events and the freedom of the people, but are either too tired or consider themselves too uninvested to actually lend a hand. Raven is a regular to this group, fucked as his sleeping pattern is, and it doesn't surprise her as much as she thought it would that Patty too sits among them.

Yuri sitting back, however, is new.

Something is off with him. Something has been off with him since… well, certainly since their discovery of Cumore's little scheme. He’s never been the most talkative of their group, a man of relatively few words until it comes to snide jibes and teasing, or else rallying speeches to raise morale or call outs for something he perceives to be an injustice.

(She’d say he was self-righteous - but then, by that same line of thinking, isn’t she also?)

His usual quietude has never felt like this though - dense and oppressive like thunderclouds, holding a tension that, if referred to, threatens to strike like lightning, harsh and quick and painful. It’s possible he’d just slept badly, but she doubts it. She and Yuri are painfully alike at the best of times and in this, it seems, they continue to be.

Yes, for Yuri, the biggest champion of justice among them, to still be so tense, so incredibly on edge… It’s extremely telling.

The only one who seems to have noticed Yuri’s torment other than her (and his faithful pooch) is, of course, Raven. It’s no surprise - he’s always kept a close eye on Yuri, in the time she’s known them. She’d heard tell that the Don had taken an interest in Yuri when he’d met him, in a way usually foreign to him in regards to newcomers. Normally it would be years - years of hard work, of craft and contributions in the name of the guilds, for the man to so much as glance in your direction, let alone learn your name (understandably so for so busy and powerful a man). Yet Yuri had waltzed in and garnered his full attention in the space of a few hours, at best.

That Raven has clearly been instructed to stake him out, in addition to his apatheia hunt, feels natural. Less so is a good chunk of what he actually seems to be observing about Yuri - she’s sure the Don would much rather see a report on his fighting capabilities, his disposition, the flexibility of his morality in a pinch, than whatever he’s gleaning by staring at his back when he takes his shirt off, or watching the flow of his hair in the desert breeze.

(That is, however, a report she would quite like to read, if for nothing more than watching the burn of Raven’s ears at the request)

This morning, however, the eye he keeps on him is careful. Though the ever-present catlike smirk that plays over his lips remains, there’s something considering to his gaze - a scheme in the works but not those of his usual calibre. Nothing designed to rile Rita, fluster Estelle or make the kids laugh (though she’s sure if he can tie his usual goals into whatever he’s concocting then he certainly won’t shy away at the chance).

If she had to guess at his intentions, she’d have thought--

The blaring of a horn throws her suddenly from her train of thought - the celebrations are brought instantly into full swing by a makeshift band of passing guildsmen throwing their own contributions into the mix. Judith doesn’t consider herself a big listener of music, in all honesty, but she’d be hard pressed not to recognise the juxtaposed staccatos and legatos characteristic of Dahngrestian swing - while lesser known within Empire towns like this one, the style is famous the world over.

She hasn’t had many opportunities to join in with the festivities the guilds are known for throwing, where dancers step and twirl faster than the barkeeps can pour drinks (and really, isn’t that an impressive thought, considering the drinking culture in Dahngrest?) She’s bore witness to their local dancing customs only once or twice, and never within the heart of the city itself, and she knows with certainty that while her footwork on the battlefield might be immaculate, she has two left feet for dancing - would certainly never dare to attempt swing. She has great sympathy for the townsfolk who, while enraptured by the melody, feet tapping along jovially, seem as though they don’t know quite what to do with it.

Altosk’s second, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He barks a delighted laugh that startles Patty, almost jostling her from the table she’s perched upon, and finally momentarily draws Yuri from his reverie. She watches, amused, as he throws Yuri’s grumpy, inquisitive look a wink before springing to his feet.

“Hey, kid!” he calls, flagging Karol down as he heads to the middle of the concourse. Their illustrious guild master looks up from the mabo curry bun he’s attempting to swallow whole, wide-eyed. Raven grins, crooked and gummy in a way she’s come to associate with his mischief.

“Why don’t we show these lovely folks how it’s done, as thanks for their hospitality?”

Karol is practically vibrating at the concept. In a flash he’s pulling off his gloves and whipping his bag over his head, dumping the pile in Rita’s lap (eliciting, of course, an incredibly over the top yelp of annoyance). He scarfs down the remnants of the bun as he hops over the table he’s sat at, scampering over to Raven in a manner that does nothing to hide his enthusiasm.

“You better not stand all over my feet, Raven!” he calls as he draws closer, face pulling into a pout that doesn’t quite ring true. The noise Raven makes in response is rather like that of a strangled cat.

“The nerve o’ kids these days!” he bemoans, pinching his sinuses with a shake of his head. “I’ll have you know yours truly is the pride of Altosk! Ya won’t find a better dancer in all o’ Dahngrest, not even the Don himself!”

“Uhu, suuuure. ” Karol drawls, disbelieving, as he comes to a stop by his side.

It’s as he does that Raven ducks his head close to the boy, hand a shield to cover whatever he says. His words are inaudible, but if Karol’s terrible attempts at hiding his furtive glances in Yuri’s direction are anything to go by, Judith would have to guess it’s something about whatever Raven’s scheming for Brave Vesperia’s second.

The band seems to catch wind of their plans, slowing the jaunty tune down to allow the two to begin. Karol dusts his hands off on his trousers bashfully, ridding himself of any remnants of curry, before taking Raven’s hand in his. Their movements start off slow and creeping, almost unnatural to watch, but it quickly becomes apparent to her that they’re motions meant to teach rather than for actual dancing - an enunciated display of footwork for the surrounding beginners as they take their time to get a feel for each other as dance partners.

And then, Raven taking Karol’s waist, they begin in earnest. Movements still slow, but now fluid as water, they begin to turn around one another in the style she vaguely recognises, and while she knows nothing about dancing, it’s clear that they’re extremely good. They match each other's timing perfectly, not a step out of place, and she could believe they were gliding if not for the dust their footsteps kick up.

Karol is good, of course, especially for a kid of his age (she wonders idly if he might’ve had a brief foray in a dancing guild, prior to joining the Hunting Blades), but Raven is really something else. She’s never seen a man able to move his hips in such a way, sashaying in a way that’s frankly a little hypnotising - if she thought he were truly interested in her, then this’d definitely be enough to make her begin to consider his earlier flirtations more seriously. It’s frankly criminal, she thinks, that his trousers and jacket do so much to obscure his ass.

As they become more comfortable, they begin to ramp it up a little - they take it in turns to twirl one another, alternating between wide sweeping arcs, Raven displaying his extreme flexibility to twist beneath Karol’s arm, to fast tight twirls that almost remind her of Rita’s casting motions. For these, Karol spins so quickly she’s surprised he doesn’t completely lose balance and land face first in the dirt. Instead he simply laughs jovially, really getting into the spirit of it and losing himself to the music. Raven’s responding smile is fond, like a father watching their kid, and she could almost believe they’ve both forgotten about their ulterior motives, if not for how Raven keeps glancing in their direction every other time he’s facing their way.

It’s as Estelle drags Rita out to join them, accompanied by a group of the locals, that Judy feels something ugly snare her heart and promptly takes the opportunity to cast a considering glance instead to Patty and Yuri. The smaller is bouncing where she sits, gleefully watching the dancers - she seems antsy to join in, if only she could find a spare partner who wouldn’t accidentally crush her.

Yuri surprises her - while he might not be completely out of his funk, he’s watching more attentively than she previously expected. She gazes at him curiously for a while as he leans his head on his hand, watching the Dahngrestian pair’s increasing frenzy. Karol’s giggles are near constant, and Raven’s been infected by his happiness, laughing obnoxiously himself. The creases of Yuri’s eyes tighten, even as the rest of his face fails to emote, as his eyes seem to lock on Raven’s face and stay there. She smiles.

“Ahem.” she coughs, sharp and decidedly fake. Yuri and Patty both are startled away from the party, turning to her. She raises her eyebrows pointedly at the former, coy smirk rising to her lips. His eyes widen in response, as Patty turns confusedly to look at him, before he flusters, turning away from the party entirely. She laughs.

It’s at that moment that Karol comes spinning towards them, hand freed from Raven’s grasp at last. His smile is blinding, and he’s struggling to catch his breath, but he still seems to be full of energy as Raven follows behind him.

“Patty, you probably know a bit of swing, right?” he asks her, real question thinly veiled by his proffered hand.

She’s a clever lass, though. “Hah! Of course I do, matey!” she declares, grabbing it firmly and pulling him back out into the street.

Raven watches them go fondly, before turning to her. With a flourish, he bows to her, graceful as a knight but with none of the prim and proper charm.

“Judy, my darlin’, could I convince ya to honour ol’ Raven with a dance?”

His eyes never leave hers as he asks, gaze sharp and lacking all pretense of genuine flirting.

Ah, so that’s his game is it?

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly!” she declares exaggeratedly, hand to her chest. “Not when Yuri so clearly wants to instead!”

The effect is instant. She barely has time to note the twitch of Yuri’s ears at the sound of his name before his head whips around to look at them.

“Hu- what?”

Raven springs back upright, throwing his hand up to clutch at his own chest.

“Yuri, darlin’, if you wanted to dance with me then all you had to do was say so! No need to make Judy do all yer dirty work for ya!”

He closes the gap between them in a matter of steps, as Yuri’s face grows more panicked by the second.

“Wh-- no, what?! Judy, no, I can’t dance , JU--!!”

She smiles as Raven takes him by the hand and tugs him away. Yuri’s expression reminds her of a bunwigle, caught unaware in the middle of the night, backed into a corner with no escape. It’s incredibly endearing, and certainly a nice change from the faux-apathy he’s been stewing in.

As they move away she watches as Raven’s expression transforms from mischievous to something more careful, considerate. He doesn’t guide Yuri to the middle of the crowd as she’d expected, where their friends spin with reckless abandon, but instead to a quieter area of the dancing space. Yuri seems just as confused as she feels, more than likely expecting Raven to have humiliated him with his lack of skill. They’re far enough away that whatever the older man says to reassure him is lost to her, but he smiles and takes Yuri’s hands gently.

Her heart swells at the careful way Raven teaches him, easily pulls him out of his darker thoughts and concentrates his mind on something else. Yuri doesn’t strike her as the sort to let himself be taken care of, but she doubts he even realises that’s what’s happening - probably sees it instead as some sort of challenge. It’s nice. She might not have known him long, but she feels close to him in a way she hasn’t felt with another person for… a good ten years, she’d wager. She’d forgotten what it felt like, to see good things happen to someone you care about.

He trips over Raven’s feet often, but Raven doesn’t let him get self-conscious about it - instead exaggeratedly pretending to trip himself in a way that allows Yuri to chip in and tease him. When there’s one failed attempt too many and Yuri attempts to break away, he simply pulls him back in, closer, and looks him in the eyes.

(She feels a little bad for still watching, personal and intimate as the moment is becoming, but it’s hard to find anything else interesting at this point)

“What is it I always say when I’m fightin’, Yuri?” she can just about hear the old man say over the wail of the trombone.

Yuri’s tone is monotonous, even as his face starts to rise into an affectionate smirk.

“‘Ooo, eee, ow, my back hurts?’” he says, quirked eyebrow a dead giveaway for his bullying. He receives a light slap to his arm for his trouble that leaves him laughing openly in a way she… hasn’t actually seen from him in the time she’s known him.

Huh.

“That it’s just like dancin’, ya dolt!” he says. He laces their fingers carefully before starting to move once more through the basic steps. “You’ll see what I mean before long.”

After a few more failed attempts, Yuri finally starts to figure it out. He still steps on Raven’s toes more often than not, but it’s to be expected for a newbie in the face of a dance as rapid as swing - she’s quite impressed at how fast he’s picked it up in all honesty. He’s already doing a damned sight better than Rita, whose motions are still awkward and stiff as she’s twirled by Estelle (though she looks to be having the time of her life, in spite of it).

They look very sweet together, in all honesty. It’s the most she’s seen either of them relax in front of other people - Yuri’s snark is quickly abandoned as he starts to really get into the swing of it, and most of Raven’s jokes and teasing go along with it. They’re just a couple of normal guys in their own little world, dancing together beneath the rising sun, looking genuinely happy for once. Watching them laughing together, she finds her own spirits raised too, even as she continues to sit to one side like a wallflower.

And she’s glad she did. If she hadn’t, she’d have missed out on this potentially one-time-only sight of Yuri’s carefree smile. Would’ve never seen the sudden change in Yuri’s demeanor as he looks up at Raven mid-spin, eyes widening, before his expression becomes suddenly raw.

He’s not watching his feet at all any more - he’s just going with the flow, and reading Raven’s movements and they’re incredibly in sync to say Yuri has all of 10 minutes of experience. It’s strange to think it, but he seems to be having fun , doing something other than fighting, even despite his mess ups.  Yuri’s uncharacteristically crooked smile, as his eyes never leave Raven’s, is blindingly beautiful, and piques her curiosity.

Before today, when she’d seen the admiring glances the Raven had sent his way, she’d have thought he was barking up the completely wrong tree. Now though (although she doubts Yuri’s realised the way he’s starting to look at the old man) she’s really not so sure.

Then the moment is gone.

Behind her, she hears him. Flynn, barking orders to his brigade, accompanied by the protests of the now-bound followers of Cumore. And in that exact instant, Yuri stops stock-still. Raven goes crashing into him, frantically apologising and trying to check he’s okay, but it’s as though he isn’t there. Yuri just stares past her to Flynn, eyes wide and unseeing but… terrified , if she had to take a guess.

She can hear Raven call to him as he slips his hands free from his grip, and he looks up glancingly. He mutters something, what she can only imagine is some excuse, or a few words of apology, before he’s stalking off towards the inn and shutting the door behind him briskly.

Raven, standing alone and off to one side, looks very small in that instant. Like he doesn’t know quite where he went wrong, what he could’ve possibly done differently.

Perhaps, just this once, she can take pity on him. After all, if there’s anyone who can fix her left feet…

Standing and smoothing down her skirts, she heads over to him, taking his hand, and he startles. His big blue eyes look up at her, puppy-like, and it’s like Estelle the night before all over again. She sighs, already regretting her question before she asks.

“Is the offer still open?”

He smiles. Solemn. But it’s a start.

me, age 12: haha yeah raven blatantly has a thing for yuri and i love them together, but i guess there isn't much to imply yuri likes him back huh me, age 24, seeing the 'Happy Birthday' skit for the first time and learning the Very Specific Age Gap between Yuri and his first ever crush: a

ftr no one in the vesperia party is cishet no i will not take questions

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Don’t Let Go ~ Alfie Solomons

I’m in love with one man and one man alone. Mum and dad love Alfie too, but they still can’t take him away from me ;;;

How did she end up like this, she wondered? They were family...Even though her last name was not legally “Shelby”, she was still a part of the family since she was born. The parents were best friends, and when her parents died, Polly took her in. And then, they grew up together - Same home, same beds, same food, same clothes...Same everything.

And then, war came, and while true, she was younger than even John - Not by much, only about 3 years - But that didn’t seem to bother either of the Shelby siblings, and she was especially close with Arthur and Ada, mostly because they were the ones with the warmest hearts, and could understand her gentle one as well..

However, Tommy was the smartest of the family, and Polly taught her enough about Gypsy street-smarts, so the three of them together somehow became the true heads of the family, the true backbone that kept everyone straight and together.

When war came, she was barely 16, and yet, she joined them, dressing as a man and pretending to be a volunteer physician, healing and running around the battlefield, only to end up helping them dig up tunnels and plant explosions...

And taking a bullet for Tommy.

And nearly dying.

But at least, by the time they returned home, 4 years later, she was called an honorary Shelby and Polly officially adopted her.

She wasn’t Y/N L/N anymore, she was Y/N Shelby, and she was damn proud of that.

She helped with fixing races, rode around with her gorgeous black mare, going to the Garrison with her brothers to make sure they don’t end up drunk, in a ditch, she helped the strategy against the Lee family, got beaten up by Sabini, beat him up right back, got in that whorehouse of a Russian noble family, let the Duchess touch her while in her underwear, got beaten up by the priest, had to blow up a train with good people and many more...

But nothing was bringing her down, because she was a Shelby, and she was strong - Mentally, Physically, Emotionally - And she wanted to make sure the family was together, or at least trying to hang on, somehow.

She was the perfect woman - Never drank, never smoked, never cursed, never did drugs, never did drugs, never dated anyone... 

But when one day, Thomas took her on a meeting at Alfie’s place... Boy of boy, was that entertaining.

She always appreciated Thomas’s ambition, cunning and intelligence...But Alfie?  Alfie was something else. Something much above him, no much smarter, so much better at scheming...And at everything, really. And she was attracted by him like moths to the light.

Back and forth talks, interesting insights on life, learning words in foreign languages that she didn’t know, but he did, and likewise, teaching her foreign stuff, talking to him about books and many other things...

And it was weird, but it almost seemed like she didn’t want to leave that place any time soon, but Thomas needed her for business, so what could she do, really?

And she agreed...And agreed...And agreed...

Until one day, when all things went completely upside down and...Sure, she did her job, and she was supposed to return to Alfie’s to have a chat with him and Tommy... And she did...

As soon as she stepped inside the “Bakery”, she saw Ollie, whose eyes widened in shock seeing her in that state.

“Miss Shelby, what happened?! Let me call the physician-...I’ll go inform Alfie-...” Ollie stumbled over his words, only to have her grab his sleeve and pull him back. “Don’t tell them I’m here. With the way I look, better make it a surprise. Tommy’s here, right?” she asked, slamming the doors open, walking inside, the clicks of her small heeled boots resounding all over the place. “B-But Miss Shelby, we have to treat you - “ Y/N simply shot him a glare, before continuing in a straight line.  “Ain’t a Shelby anymore.” she muttered, and soon, she reached the middle of the wide business room, as Alfie was sitting at his desk and Tommy was pacing.  “Y/N...Finally, you’ve arrived. What happened to you?!” Thomas asked, rushing to her side, only for her to push him away. “You lied to me, Thomas. You lied to me. You promised I wouldn’t get hurt. That you were gonna make sure they wouldn’t touch me. That I was gonna come back perfectly unharmed, not even a strand of hair touched. Only business talks. How do you think that went?” the girl looked down, her hands deep in her bloodied, yet incredibly fancy and silhouette-fitting high-waisted pants.  “What exactly happened with the Sabini meeting, Y/N? And why are you covered in blood?!” he asked, frowning. “It’s fine, not ALL of it is MY blood, thanks for worrying, THOMAS!” but as she rasped out his name, she started coughing up some blood, and as her side started burning in pain, she lifted her already disheveled shirt, applying pressure with her hand where she got shot to keep herself from bleeding out. “Well...This one is.” she used her sleeve to wipe her face, completely non-chalant. “Y/N...Tell me what happened...Please...” Thomas’s voice went lower, almost as a soothing whisper, but it was quickly obliterated by Y/N’s exaggerated, yet pained laugh. “I got beaten up, raped and shot by Sabini and his men. That’s what happened, Thomas. No business talk, just abuse. You promised nothing will happen to me...But, oh, damn, remember that you told Lizzie the same too, and she, that fucker raped her at the Derby too, when you were too busy fucking around with two other women? Oh, wait...Is it because I’m a woman? Because, the way I see it, all women that you have in your life get abused somehow...By you. Grace died because of you. Ada left the city because of you. May got hurt because of you. Esme hates you...There’s also the Duchess, but she very much outsmarted you, so she’s safe and...Still a noble woman. And don’t even get me started on Polly...Poor woman...Having to endure living in the same world as you. For the amount of time you spend fucking women, one would think you’d be more considerate of them.” her beautiful eyes were sharp and hateful, throwing daggers at the man in front of her as she continued to pace around, her tongue speaking the poison that very much tainted her heart over the past many years of her life. “...Y/N. I know you’re in pain, and that I’ve hurt you. I know. You are right, I agree. I’m aware. But it wasn’t my fault. I couldn’t have known, and-” as he continued, the girl calmly approached him, and as soon as she was right in front of him, she back-slapped him, thanking her classy mind for wearing lots of rings that day. As she laughed at the way the wounds showed up on one side of his face, she followed by slapping him on the other side, much harder than before. “Shut the fuck up, Thomas Shelby. Don’t speak to me. Don’t get close to me. I am not a Shelby anymore, so you can fuck off...Do you see who you’re doing business with, Alfie? A guy who can’t even protect his family! He got all of us arrested and almost hanged, made Ada go away, made Polly go insane, had Arthur beaten up, me as well, and guess what, Michael got shot and JOHN GOT KILLED! BECAUSE OF YOU, THOMAS! Grace died because of YOU! And your child got kidnapped and almost died BECAUSE! OF! YOU!” with each sentence, she punched him, hit him, kicked him, smashed him head with her knee, then on the wall, then ended by stomping her boot on his stomach...And walked away, as calmly as if never happened. “And...This is not my blood.”  “Well, lass, gotta say, yeah, you ain’t as much of an angel as I thought, eh. Or, maybe now more than ever, you’re the angel I thought you were.” Alfie watched from behind the desk, completely relaxed, analysing the show in front of him, and yet, his brain was running a thousand miles per second, thinking of millions of things. “D’you have a free spot here, Alfie? No guns and death and all that. Maybe...Someone to patch up your boys. I don’t know. Hell, I’ll even accept being your secretary or...Flower girl. Cook. Tea girl. I can walk Cyril...I don’t know, anything you want, just get me the hell out of this Shelby hell.” she turned around to look at him, using her other sleeve to clean her face, using the water from her tears. “Heard that, Thomas Shelby? Your sister’s deserted you, and for a good reason, eh. You can leave now, there’s other times to do business, right.” Alfie spoke, getting up and stepping towards her. “This isn’t over, Y/N. We’ll talk again. You’re a valuable part of the family, and you’re coming back, sooner than later.” Thomas went get get out of the building, only for the girl to quickly take out the gun from her jacket and cock it, pointing it at the man. “Fuck off and go to hell, Thomas.” she pulled the trigger... “Stop it, lass, don’t do it! You’re gonna regret it!” Alfie sprung out, holding one of his arms around her body, while his other hand went to her gun, making her shoot a wall instead of a living being, letting the man get out of there, still alive, somehow. “Damn it, Alfie! Why’d you do that! It’s 2 for 0, damn it! I’m fed up with taking bullets to save that guy, while all he does is sit comfortably behind his desk, damn it! I’m not a fucking rag doll that can be tossed in the trash!” she cried, trying to struggle out of his grasp, but the wounds were hurting her too much, so her strength gave out faster and she stood limp in his arms, trembling softly. “S’okay now, lass, yeah. I’ll bring ya to Cyril and we can...Uh...Drink that tea you like, right. Forget that guy, let’s get ya treated, right. Get that bullet out of ya. And sure, y’can be my physician, I know you were a great one in war, yeah.” the Jew gently took out the gun from her hand, throwing it to the ground for Ollie to take later, an he picked her up with much, bringing her to the medic’s room. “I need vodka, cigarettes, and if I’m brave enough some Tokyo...Snow...Whatever you call it.” she groaned as soon as she was place on the bed, as the gangster frowned in confusion at her. “I thought you didn’t do vices.” he sat on the opposite bed, watching her intently. “Woaw, I lied to you and everyone else in the world. I do drink and I do smoke and I did date before...Just...Not when people were seeing me. People think you’re an angel, they will hopefully leave you the hell alone. Difficult being a woman these days, as you can see. Everybody’s treating you like a piece of garbage. And bring me that vodka, I need to have the room spinning before I take out the bullet...And vodka’s the best disinfectant. The hospital stuff is washed up and diluted a lot of times.” she gave him a sarcastic half-smile, taking the cigarette he just lit up and puffed on it. “Only whiskey and rum, if you want, yeah. You don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not around here, lass. Just do what you want, nobody’s gonna say a thing, right, and if they do, you know how to use a gun, so shoot their brains, eh, show them all who’s in charge.” he got up, bringing her what she requested, watching attentively as she let her head back, poofing smoke into the air. “Thanks, Alfie. Come back in an hour. I don’t need witnesses of my misery. You know better than everyone, Captain Solomons, that taking out a bullet gets messy.” she pointed the cigarette at him, smirking miserably at him, knowing very well that she wasn’t mentally ready for the procedure. “Well, lass, if you’re very sure, you don’t need help, right, then I’ll be waiting outside.” the Jew patted her head, leaving the room, letting behind only a graveyard silence, that for some reason, creeped the girl out big time. “...Let’s fuck shit up, then...” she muttered to herself, letting the ashes of the cigarette fall pitifully on the bed, as she took a deep breath and violently slammed her hand over the medical tools.

She’s always been a very careful and precise person, and whenever she did this on someone else, she would have people keep the victim down, so she could rummage through their bodies with relative ease, especially after they got shit faced drunk...And maybe with some anaesthesis... But this is the worst. Just like back then, during the war...

Letting a few tears of anticipation fall down her face, she cut a bit deeper into her body, to allow her fingers, previously washed with alcohol, she whimpered and squealed as she searched around for the bullet - It was no easy feat for, but it had to be done, no matter the searing pain -.

It felt like time stopped completely before the extraction of the stupid lead thing, she held it in her hand, watching its taunting gleam glaring back into her eyes, then watched with horror that stupid bottle of whiskey, and with her last strength, she snatched it and putting her pillow over her face to keep the shrieking from leaving the room, and gritting her teeth, she let the alcohol pour out from the bottle, wailing loudly, and yet, hoping nobody would hear her.

She was still sobbing in the pillow, the fire-like pain, electrifying the surging, diffuse pain throughout her whole torso, and she laid there, throwing away that pillow as soon as the door was opened again, and adjusting her head, she noticed Solomons walking in the room, a basket dangling from his arms.

“What’cha got there?” she asked in a weak, whisper-like voice, still trying to recover. “Goodies. Freshly baked cookies. At least something that smells nice in this pigstry, eh.” Alfie’s joking way of speaking seemed to take away her mind, but she smiled apologetically, lifting her hands briefly. “Sorry, too much blood on my hands. Literally and metaphorically speaking.” she explained, only to have Alfie take out one of the cookies and feeding her. “...This...Is the best thing I’ve eaten in my life. Did you make them? Because if you did, you’re like...A Cookie God. Have more?” she asked, managing, with a lot of difficulty, pain and his help, to get in a sitting position. “Well, I’ve never been called a God, right, but it ain’t that bad, yeah. Here you go, one more. I’ll ask a maid to draw a bath for you, yeah, I doubt you wanna stay all bloody the whole day, eh.” he helped her eat another cookie, and weirdly enough, despite all the blood on her face, her small smile was oddly charming. “...Y’know...If you ever want to retire from this gangster bullshit...You could settle down and...Just bake for a living...No, rather, a hobby. I’m sure you have enough money for a life time, so might as well just rest and take it easy. Move away from here...Maybe another country...Or another city, at least...And just...Y’know...Be happy. You could do that...And be rid of stupid Italians and Americans and all these jerks.” Y/N spoke, more or less not directly to him, but in a way, she was projecting her own hopes and dreams. “Margate.” Alfie muttered, sitting down in front of her. “Margate?” she furrowed her brows in confusion, leaning forward a bit. “Aye. By the seaside. The sand is really soft, they say, and the waves are nice, yeah. Very calm town.” he continued, which made her gasp softly in realisation. “You...You DID think about retirement! It means you’re really kinda fed up with this...This mess. I like where this is going.” she smiled softly at him, nodding in agreement. “I think you’re making the right choice, if it makes for anything.” “Y’know, lass, you’re not wrong. We do need a vacation, yeah, and a very long one at that, right. Now, how ‘bout we talk about what you need, right, for this medical thing.  You’re a sensible woman, yeah, so, I trust you more with the details and organising.” he pointed, and thus, they started chatting idly about the medical issues, and even more, about life in general - Books, the pictures, concerts, travelling and things...Leisure things, just simple things that she never had the privilege to talk about, and she had no idea she wanted, nor needed.

Many weeks passed and things were unusually calm for her, and for the first time in her life, she felt...Happy. She enjoyed being around Alfie, working with him without being involved in all the killing, and she absolutely loved baking things together, and he was so charismatic and charming, always giving witty remarks that amused her and made her laugh...

It was the perfect life she always dreamt of having, and he even asked if she wanted to go to a jazz pub with him, and...She got to dress up, and do her make up and do her hair, wear pretty, expensive jewellery, and a damn fine dress to show off her gorgeous silhouette, and high heels to match...And she walked next to him, her arm hooked to his, as they enjoyed the beautiful jazz music and each other’s presence.

It was a blissful dream, and she swore that if anyone dared wake her up, she was gonna kill them, and it won’t be quick, nor painless.

“Y’know, Alfie...You’re the best man I’ve ever met in my life. And that says a lot, considering how many men I had the misfortune of meeting...Including my family.” she raised her champagne glass slightly to clink with his. “Maybe you haven’t met the right men, dear, yeah, y’know, and men in Birmingham are fucking shit anyway. Camden’s better, yeah.” the man chuckled mirthfully, leaning back on his chair. “You...Mentioned Margate once. How are things going on with that?” Y/N asked, smiling at him softly. “Well, lass, y’know, yeah, things are...Things are fine. But, uh...You see...The doctor said I’m sick. They aren’t really sure yet what’s wrong with me, alright, but they said the results should be given pretty soon, yeah.” he admitted after a few seconds of consideration, which made the girl gasp in shock, moving her chair to look at him better taking his hands in hers and leaning forward. “What did they say about it? Did they take blood sampled? Wanna do blood work? Or...Biochemistry tests? Or something more complex?” Y/N bit her lip, looking concerned like never before. “Don’t worry, lass, even if I die, yeah, I’ll still make sure you get paid for your hard work, alright?” the man tried to brush it off, but the indignant look on her face made him chuckle. “I’m gonna kill you if you imply something like that again. I don’t need your money, I just want you to be healthy and alright, got it? Now come on, tell me, what do they suspect. Also, where is your doctor’s clinic, and when will your results arrive.” she pressed on, waiting for an answer. “Come on, don’t be so serious, yeah, enjoy the show, it’s not every night we get to have fun, right?” Alfie, again, tried to play it off as nothing important, but the look on her face made him sigh and nod, giving in. “They think’s cancer, right. I got a tumour, they’re checking if it’s...Uh...Cancer or not. right. Doctor’s around here in Camden, results come out sometime in a week or two, that enough?” he rolled his eyes, and yet, he was grateful for her worrying. “...I guess. If I knew, I would have done the lab work myself, but, you know...If anything, I can do the procedure myself... Or maybe I should hold your hand and make sure you’re not scared. They have to do general anaesthesia, cut you open and all that...It won’t be fun.” she looked down a bit, before smiling encouragingly at him. “Y/N. I’m a big boy now, right, I’ll be fine, no need to worry about me, yeah, you just...You be okay, and relax, and-...And before long, we’ll go to Margate together.”  he continued, trying to calm her down, without realising at first of the commitment, until he noticed the excited gleam in her eyes. “Alfie...? Are you...Are you sure...? Margate is the place you want to go to...Why would you...Me...?” she muttered, almost unsure of how to react. “Let’s go home, eh. I want to make you some nice tea, yeah, and some cookies. I have to tell ya something, and I’d rather it not be out.” 

Alfie squeezed her hands, helping her get up, and the walk home was filled with anticipation and a comfortable silence that wanted to rip out the answers out of his throat.

He let her dress in more comfortable clothes, and so he did, then went down to prepare some nice and warm tea, with the biscuits he baked that day, and went to her room.

“Do you like me, Alfie?” she asked in a shushed voice, not daring to raise her head to look at him. “What’s not to like, lass? You’re smart and witty, and for some reason, you find me funny, and look at ya, you’re gorgeous, right. So if I say, yeah, I want you to come to Margate with me, I mean it. You just have to agree, aye. Get away from this and rest. God knows we need this.” he had a sweet smile on his face - A smile that quickly faltered when he saw stray tears falling down her face, and he started worrying. “Why...In the world...Would someone as amazing as you...Like me? Alfie, you’re...You’re amazing, and me, I’m...I’m the worst. I can’t let go of the past, and I’ve got like...This...This devil inside me...This Shelby devil that keeps whispering in my ear, saying that I’ll never be happy, and that I’ll...I’ll kill again, and I’ll be dragged back to that slum and...And all that happiness will just shatter and...And I don’t deserve you.” she looked down, hoping her long her would hide her face, but next thing she knows, she got brought into a tight embrace, and he stroked her hair, his chin on top of her head, waiting for her to calm down, and yet, he could feel her trembling softly. “Don’t say things like that, yeah, that’s not true. You’re with me, not with them anymore, right, so, then, you’re going back. I won’t let them take you back, if you don’t want to, aye. No need to cry, right, I’ll protect you from anyone who dares try to take you away, eh, even if it’s Tommy Shelby himself, so no need to cry, yeah, Y/N?” he spoke, only to feel her cling even tighter to the back of his shirt. “I...I’ve...I’ve never felt like this before, Alfie. You make me feel so warm...And safe...And happy...I’ve been hold before, but all I felt was repulsion and fright...I was panicked and I wanted to run away...But this...This never happened. And I think I love you, Alfie. Don’t let go of me, please.” her voice was barely audible, but Alfie could feel the raw emotions, so he laid down with her on the bed, holding her dearly. “It will be fine, Y/N, okay. None of these worries will come to you again when in Margate. You and I will be happy, away from here, yeah, so, know that I love you, and let’s wait just a bit more, so we can get rid of this Changretta mess, and we’re leaving, eh.” 

And it was true - From that night on, they slept in the same room, holding each other dearly, reassured that the next day, things will still be as good as the previous night. One morning, however, Alfie woke up without her in his arms, and he panicked, thinking the worst - Poor Ollie thought he was going to get killed - But it was all fine, as she returned with the biggest grin on her face, jumping in Alfie’s arms, not allowing him the chance to say a word, only shocking him. And she held his hands and dragged him to his room, getting him to sit on the bed, and at first, she wanted to make tea, but then she shook her head and brought a bottle of the best whiskey, poured it in the glasses and had him drink.

“Damn it, lassie, don’t fucking scare me like that, yeah, like, at least tell me in advance if you’re gonna leave, okay, I thought those fuckers got ya for good. What the hell was the urgency?” he asked, drinking the glass in one go before looking at her. “I...Well...Haha, sorry ‘bout that, I’m just...I’m sure super happy. So, as you know, today the doctors had to mail you the test results, so, you know, I seem to have been a bit too eager to find out, so I since there were no trains, I walked all the way to your doctor, told him this and that, then got the first train back, and here I am. Oh, and, obviously, I’m super happy ‘cause like, I couldn’t keep myself - Sorry ‘bout that, by the way - So I ripped the envelope and looked at the results. And, uh, yeah, so, I’m happy ‘cause - Look ! - No cancer! You’re completely, 100% cancer free! And, like, the tumor completely benign, no invasiveness, no metastasis, so this is completely curable by surgical removal, and it won’t affect your life span, nor will it, in any way, alter your health. Et, voila, here we are! Go on, drink, cheer, be happy, I know I am!” she laughed gleefully, watching the shocked spark in Alfie’s eyes as he took out his glasses to read over the annoyingly complicated medical stuff, but he was a smart guy, and he understood everything there is to it. “You’re the best, shiksa. You say things are gonna turn out bad, but here, look, they aren’t, and hey won’t right, ‘cause clearly, there’s something up there, alright, that’s looking out for us, and it ain’t only me making sure you’re fine. I’m happy, Y/N, and in less than a month, aye, we’re fucking away from here. Just the two of us...And Ollie as a butler, if ya want. And we can get as many dogs as you want. We can do whatever we want, really.” he hugged her tightly, cupping her face and kissing her tenderly.

It all went sweet and soft at first, and it got hotter and hotter, with much more passion than before, and one thing led to another, and their first night of overflowing love gave hope for a better future, one that will ensure their happiness and that won’t involve them in this stupid gangster war anymore.

Just him, her and Cyril, maybe Ollie too, at the side...What better life to have than this?

But just one week before they had to leave, as they were still preparing for their grand exit, Y/N was walking towards the clinic room to check on the few patients she had left, only to notice the glint of guns, and she did a turn around, looking for Alfie, and yet, Ollie stopped her in her tracks as soon as she saw her, rushing to hide her from the people who were, apparently, having a meeting with Alfie.

“Ollie, it’s an emergency. Life or death, I promise. I NEED to speak to him. Who is he having a meeting with?” she asked, holding her clipboard close to her chest, looking left and right carefully. “With the Sabinis. Now, come on, Y/N, whatever it is, can wait. I’m sure you can wait a bit with Cyril. Please.” Ollie pleaded with her, but she only started writing rapidly on her clipboard, letting the first two pages filled with obvious, typewriter-written pages about standard medical procedures. “I’m sorry, Ollie, but this is bigger than even Sabini. Come with me and NEVER leave Alfie alone with those sharks, got it?” she gave him a sharp look before rushing to the usual place Alfie had business meetings, and as she completely ignored the villains, she slammed the clipboard on his desk, giving him a look. “Very important medical business thing, I need your signature after you read through these.” as he was so much taller than her, she only needed to bend a bit to talk into his ear, carefully flipping the first two pages, only to reveal big, messy writing.

ENEMIES WITH GUNS IN THE MEDICAL WARD POINTED TO THE BOYS DON’T TRUST THEM

Alfie gave her a look, knowing shit went bad, he nodded slightly, getting a pen and, as his signature, he wrote “TELL OLLIE”, and ushered her to leave.  And so she did, and Ollie went to alert the other guys so they could ambush the enemies in the medical ward, all while cursing herself and preparing guns, hidden in her long trench coat, then returned to stay by Alfie’s side, her hands placed on his shoulders reassuringly.

“Mr. Solomons, I see the little song bird likes flying around to every powerful gangster family. Wonder if she’ll go to the Changrettas when she’s done with you.” the Sabini leader smirked at her, and Alfie could feel her nails digging into his flesh, and not even the good way this time. “Listen, listen, Mr. Sabini,eh. You come here, begging me for fucking favours, right, and then, you dare fucking speak ill of my partner, yeah? So, where is the fucking time where you, like, do something to make me want to do that fucking favour of yours, if the only fucking thing you make me want to do is to fucking grant you the favour of putting you out of this miserable fucking life, right?” there was no clearer indicator that Alfie was angry than when he cursed like his beard was on fire, and true, YN found it very weird, considering how sweet and gentle he’s always been with her, but she could feel the protective aura he gave off, and she never felt safer than now. “Aye, aye, Alfie, don’t overreact, please, it was just a merely innocent joke! Lighten up, let’s discuss business. We teamed up with Luca Changretta, we can give you money and exposure. We can sell your rum and weapons all over Europe, especially France and Italy, and that means, in the long run, a ton of money. I’m sure you’ll agree with me, won’t you?” Sabini spoke, and from the corner of her eye, she could see one of the men taking out a gun from the back of his pants. “Mr. Sabini, I will have to ask you, as Mr. Solomons’s secretary, not to take out any weapons, otherwise our men will shoot all of you, with no discrimination.” Y/N threatened in a low voice, taking her hands from Alfie’s shoulders, and crossed her arms to her chest, ready to draw her weapons at any second. “It’s alright, Y/N, right, I don’t think Mr. Sabini is fucking stupid enough to dare a shoot out in my own fucking warehouse, eh.” Alfie warned the Italian gangster, snapping his fingers for Ollie to come by. “Vaffanculo...Che stronza! No, fine, fine, we’re all calm, all good, right? We can have a business deal and leave this place happy, both parts, right?” Sabini spoke, using his hands to gesture everyone to calm down. “Stick that deal up your ass.” Alfie cursed Sabini in perfect Italian, making Sabini straighten up, almost as if he got sobered by a hammer to his head, and without a second to wait, some of the lackeys drew their guns.

But they were too late, for Y/N already had both guns out and killed most of them, starting with Sabini himself, and Ollie’s boys helped up just enough to have the Red Sea at their feet.

Once all the enemies were laying dead on the cold, wet ground, Y/N sighed, throwing the guns to the ground, sighing and staring at the carnage with the eyes of a dead fish.

Alfie nodded to himself, pissed off at the mess that just had to happen, a week before they were going to sail to a better place, without either of them having to bloody their hands anymore, just like now.

“Well, Ollie’s got them all, so we’re good now. The sooner we finish the preparations, the better. Let’s hope Changretta the Bitch gets blown up...I should go check on Cyril, I’m sure he got scared by the gunshots.” Y/N sighed, patting him on the shoulder before turning on her heels to leave, and yet, Alfie motioned to Ollie to clear the mess, and then followed her back to their room, watching her cuddle with the beautiful dog. “Are you alright, Y/N?” Alfie asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand reaching to stroke her hair, only for Cyril to reach to get his head pet instead. “Aw, Cyril...You’re the cutest baby ever. And...I will be, Alfie. I will be. Soon...Once we leave, I will be. Until then, I’m happy spending my time with you and Cyril. It relaxes me...And it makes me happy. WE are happy.” she reached out her hand, holding his, intertwining their fingers together and leading him to lay on his side, with the dog between them, like they were a family. “Well, darling, it’s just a few days longer, and we’re out of here, right. And we’ll be a family, like you want, and by the shore, there’re no more gunshots, right, so, we can learn how to swim, and we can mess with this slobbery bastard, and I can teach you how to bake other things. I heard the waves and the salty air help you sleep better. Ain’t that just fucking perfect, eh?” Alfie gave her a sweet smile, and laid there, with her, relaxing. “Sounds amazing, Alfie. I can’t wait for Margate, then. Just you, and me, and Cyril...And maybe Ollie too, y’know, that guy makes the best tea, ain’t gonna lie.” she giggled, squeezing his hand lovingly. “Aye, it’s gonna be great. And, we can travel wherever you want, whenever you want. Any country, any city, any date. You pick, we go. Sounds good?” Alfie asked, smiling tenderly at her excitement, happy that she wasn’t stuck on the previous blood bath. “Yeah, it sounds perfect. As long as we’re together, everything is better.”

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

This is probably going to be a doozy to read, I'm so sorry

SPOILERS AHEAD MAYBE

Vision holder reader losing memories from vision hunt or other accident and they got saved by the rebellion or someone else, changing their looks and leaving their old identity behind. They became a fatui after going to where the tsarista is (they faintly remember talking about going to ice nation with someone (mothman) so they go there in hopes of remembering their old life because they remember nothing. They were promised helped to remember but with all the duties that were given, they forgot their goal in the first place. Because of what happened in Inuzuma, their death was reported so mothman thought they were dead. They cross paths (maybe randomly but for maximum angst perhaps a battle field or they were sent to eliminate him to take his place as the 11th harbinger or kill him for treason of he left the ratio or betrayed the tsarista.) Oh, and I just thought about them having visited mothman's family before (which was why there was a memory discussing going to ice nation) and being ordered to take care of them after taking care of mothman. And perhaps the reader went through a training program where they lost all emotions so they don't care of they kill or not. They are just a tool to serve her majesty. Alternative route, reader joins the resistance for trying to repay debt. After the events is 2.1, they just stay at Inazuma since they have no idea where to go anymore and the resistance is like their found family. Due to appearance change, traveler has no clue it's them if they had ever met. So they may never see mothman again unless they join the crux and go to liyue or mothman somehow goes to inazuma. Another route can be same two routes but with a visionless reader who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. They lost their memories due to injury.

Reader getting into a accident and mothman wasn't there to protect them. There's three routes. Route one, reader loses their memories. Mothman can be out frantically looking for them and when he finds them, reader shys away from him terrified. They are bleeding out and injures themselves more and more trying to get away from him. He gets help after they pass out. Reader can regain memories or no in a point of time. If not, it's a hit it or miss if they decide to trust and build a relationship with mothman again. Route two, reader goes into a coma. I'm not sure how reader gonna get nutrients since no IVs o maybe hand feeding. The reader may or not wake up, and if they do they might have lost their memories which ties route one in. The third route is reader dies and becomes ghost, unable to interact with mothman anymore and watches as he falls apart. They try and try to interact but mothman can't see or feel them. Reader gets help making their special dish and/or doing things they normally do to try and tell mothman they're still here but mothman is not having it. Maybe in a rage mothman goes on a spree and kills a lot of monsters, forcing traveler to kick his ass in order to make sure liyue is safe. Twist is that he may get hit hard enough that he forgets reader. I feel like mothman can go on a spree for either of the three. Oh, if reader is a ghost maybe they don't remember anything other than death. And maybe, just maybe, reader can come back as a zombie?

SPOILERS AHEAD MAYBE

Reader somehow falling into the abyss helping traveller or just taking care if the abyss in general. Reader gets corrupted and loses their memories, turning into a weapon of war for the abyss order. Perhaps getting a form like foul legacy… Or maybe turning into one of the abyss creatures? I think I remember it being canon that the abyss mages were from the lost nation that I cannot spell that Kaeya and Dainsielf were from. So reader can be killed or fatally wounded by mothman. They would maybe mention something only they know which makes mothman realize oh no they just practically killed their favorite person. Maybe reader haunts him as a ghost because both can't let go. Or they live and both of them fight and fight again, breaking mothman's heart more.

Reader being mothman's blood or adoptive older or younger sibling who became a zombie after dying at his hands. It could have been when he first got foul legacy, during the golden palace fiasco, releasing the sea god, etc. The reader can remember and be afraid of him or not remember and be afraid. If they do remember, they likely remember their death and their once beloved brother's part in it. They would most likely stay away from him and stay mostly with their newfound friend Qiqi. Maybe also befriending Xiao and Xiao keeping the 'monster' away from the two zombies. Cue sad mothman and him pestering zhongli so xiao can be nicer.

Reader dying by a hydro and/or electro vision user or maybe abyss creatures, so every time mothman sees water or lightning he's reminded of the death. Maybe it makes thunderstorms worse because he hears the thunder and rain and think about how your last moments were like. I also remember that mothman was scared of thunderstorms so this is more fuel to the fear. Maybe that makes him more scared of himself though I don't know if he has access to both hydro and electro in this form.

this WAS a doozy to read, but it was a doozy in every good way this cleared my pore and watered my crops holy SHIT

i see you have a lot of memory loss brainrot, and i RAISE YOU a concept: you're dying in his arms and too weak to struggle and you somehow remember and cough out his name with your last breath >:)c

oh oh maybe when you fall into the Abyss you fall alone and you end up transforming into a creature like Childe down there (see my Transformative AU) and you crawl your way out of it suffering and in pain to try and find him again

personally i hc that Childe can use at least Hydro in moth form!! Delusions apparently hurt the body so idk if he'd WANT to use it unless absolutely necessary, but i think he CAN use it if he needs to!

[miraculous786]

The Protector’s End

Masterlist

"The paparazzi are going to have a field day with this."

Dick turned to who had spoken, only to see Tim holding a camera out to capture what was in front of him. There, only a few metres opposite them both, were three teens, all with their eyes closed as an indication of their slumber.

They were on a wide wooden bench, and were positioned in such a way that had Marinette laying across both Damian and Felix's laps as they also leaned on one another by the shoulders.

Tim clicked a quick photo. His older brother watched as he began to type something out on his phone.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a Tweet."

"Wait, really?" he asked. "I don't think Baby Bird would want us to out his relationship like that."

Jason snorted from behind them. "What relationship? As far as they're aware, theirs is completely platonic."

"...Seriously? But, but they cuddle all day! There's no way they could be that oblivious."

"Oh, they are."

The siblings all tilted their heads down to Adrien, who had dryly commented the words. His features had an expression that could best be described as done with the world.

"Hey, squirt. How's it going?"

"Great!" the model enthused. "Aunt Selina and Bruce are talking about some French partnership, and so I decided to come here instead."

Dick gained a nervous look. "Oh, really? Geez, that sounds boring. So boring, in fact, that there is no need to wonder which French company they're gonna expose after partnering up with them!"

"Way to be subtle, Dickiebird," Jason muttered. "It's not as if he's gonna believ-"

"Yeah, you're right - I never liked business stuff in the first place either. Anyway, I'm gonna go call Kagami and see if she wants to hang out. Later, guys!"

"Later!" the oldest there bid. "And make sure to be home by six!"

"Okay!"

They all watched him stroll out of sight, before turning to face each other. Dick groaned, "Ugh, I hate Gabriel Agreste..."

"That makes two of us."

Marinette's eyes glimmered in amusement as she watched the boys rush to act like they weren't startled by her presence. Behind her, Damian and Felix were stood with blank looks.

"I know what you're planning~" she recited in a sing-song tone.

"W-What? As if you do, Pixie! It, it was supposed to be a secret!"

"Well..." the baker drawled, hand poised at her chin. "I want in."

Jason blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. I want in to smash Gabriel Agreste to the ground for hurting Adrien."

"Mari, are you sure?" Dick quizzed, then elaborated, "Cause what we're going to do will probably hurt Adrien a lot. I don't want him to blame you for anything."

"Listen, guys," she began to explain. "We're doing what's best for him. I mean, if I was living under the same roof as a terrorist, I would want to get out of there as fast as possible. Wouldn't you?"

There was a chorus of nods.

"Besides...me and Adrien have already talked about suing Gabriel for child neglect, but couldn't get around to it. He was deadset on it, trust me. I'm sure if he learnt that we're exposing him just like he planned to before, he wouldn't be mad."

"Yeah, but...outing his own father as Hawk Moth too? Surely the backlash would hurt him a lot, right?"

Marinette scoffed. "Backlash? Please, as if there'll be anyone left to hurt my Kitty after me and a few other vigilantes have dealt with them."

"Great minds think alike, Pixie-Pop," Jason piped up with a grin.

Damian rolled his eyes at the joke, yet blushed when Felix give him a silent, knowing look.

"Oh, Tim, I forgot to tell you something! I've started making the suit that you commissioned a few days ago."

She was met with silence.

"Tim?"

He didn't lose his wide eyes or shocked face. He only mumbled something beneath his breath.

"What?"

"Adrien's meeting up with someone..." he repeated again at a quiet pitch.

"Yeah..." Dick agreed, confused. "And...?"

"Adrien's meeting up with a girl..."

There was a moment without anyone speaking.

"What?"

"Timbers, call Bruce to be quick signing those adoption papers, now!"

"Guys, nO-"

They ignored Marinette's protests, and instead sped off with their phones out, leaving her to sigh in frustration. However, the two chuckles and arms that wrapped around her waist and shoulders made her squeak and blush, annoyance completely forgotten.

~*~*~

"Adrien, stoooooopp..." Marinette whined.

The blond's only response was to hug her tighter, and increase the volume of his purrs. They could be heard all around them, and soon became the only noise in the room.

"You deserve some rest after that fight, Bug."

"No," she denied with a pout. "I want to celebrate with everyone else."

Adrien let out a sigh. He closed his eyes and rumbled again, yet this time let the purrs out in strong waves that made his friend's eyelids relax. She weakly attempted to push him back, but he simply chuckled and placed her hand to the side.

"I hate you," she mumbled, just before drifting off into slumber.

"I love you too~"

He grinned as he watched her breathing settle, then glanced to the door leading out. With a smile, he settled a few soft blankets over her form - which she cuddled into contentedly - and made his way to the exit.

"Is she sleeping?"

"Yup."

"...I assumed that you were bluffing about having a method of getting her to rest."

"Nope. The purrs work every time."

Damian rose a brow, choosing to nod instead of questioning his judgement. "Her class is estimated to come within the next few minutes. I suggest we make our way down now."

The teen reached out to hold Felix's hand, as he sauntered to the elevator at the end of the hallway. They were currently in the Mayor's hotel, thanks to the wealth and money of Bruce Wayne himself.

"Hey...can I ask you guys a question?" Adrien asked, just as he pressed the button leading to the ground floor.

Two heads nodded at him to carry on.

"Your nicknames are 'Star' and 'Moon', right?" he started, not noticing them flush slightly. "Why isn't Marinette called something like 'Sun' or 'Sunshine'?"

Felix's lips twitched up. "Marinette herself went against the idea because of you, Adrien. She told us that she viewed you as the Sun, and that no one could compare."

The elevator dinged, breaking him out of his thoughts as metal doors slid open. The sight in front of him made him groan.

Dozens of reporters were crowded about the hotel lobby, microphones out and notepads drawn. Cameras were pointed at not only them but the entrance of the place, where a group of classmates suddenly entered.

Alya, who had been the first to come in, made eye contact with the couple ahead. She watched in confusion as people swarmed about them both, though particularly around the one with black hair.

Felix held an arm out, that soon became intertwined with Damian's.

"Ready to avenge, my Star?"

Damian's mouth twisted into a small grin. "Anything for you and our Angel, my Moon."

The crowd went wild.

~*~*~

And we’ve reached the end! :D Thank you to @freshbark for creating the request that started this all!

@thestressmademedoit  @moonystars14 @northernbluetongue @luciferge @ranger-gothamite @toodaloo-kangaroo @freshbark @drama-queen-supreme @gwennex @captainmac6 @virgil-is-a-cutie @aurordraws @maribat-is-lifeblood @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @hauntedwintersweets @emo-elaine13 @bleeding-heart-romantic @write-for-your-life2 @palvine-of-the-alvins @schrodingers25 @mariae2900 @vivilakitty @thyladyanput @2sunchild2 @kittyanonymity @bee-wrecker @soupfilledboots @queenmj10 @i-will-be-your-ace @darkthunder1589 @silvergold-swirl​

[pokesplendor]

Line up of Jo’s pokemon team gijinkas! It was fun!

bios and info about them beneath the cut

Blu - Samurott - he/him - bi Blu is, for the most part, team leader. Everyone turns to him to be level-headed in stressful situations, and he’s grown into the role as people have relied on him. As an Oshawott, he was very nervous and unsure of himself, and having people look to him for support caused him a great deal of anxiety. He’s shouldered a great deal and came out on top of it all, more in control of his own emotions and wanting to be a shoulder for people if they need to cry. He’s very shy when it comes to his own emotions and doesn’t wish to burden people with his problems. This doesn’t always work out for him.

He’s childhood friends with Mia’s Serprior, Olive, and Andy’s Emboar, Bits, from their days at Juniper’s lab. They were raised together and were afraid of the day they’d be given off to trainers; worried they’d never see each other again. Thankfully, despite the trainers not being friends, they still saw each other on the journey and watched each other grow up and grow strong.

He has a major crush on Olive that is completely mutual but both are too worried about making it awkward among their friend group they haven’t made a move. Truly pitiful. Bits is trying to set them up or so help him Arceus.

Ripley - Scrafty - he/him - bi Ripley is the ace of the team, having carried them through a lot of the major fights through the Unova region, you’d think he’d have a full head having such power. He’s actually very laid back and kind of an airhead. Always lost in thoughts and nearly oblivious to all things around him, he’s very bad at reading facial expressions or social cues, and gets flustered easily when it’s pointed out he got something wrong. He just wants to chill and watch the clouds roll by, nature doesn’t question him in why he acts the way he does.

He’s adopted Mothra as his child, having raised him since he was still an egg, the two are rarely seen apart. He’s a very good father, doting on him and braiding his hair. He’s very accepting as Moth explores his identity, not sure what he is but whatever may come, Ripley loves him all the same.

Mei-mei, Jo’s Mienshao, has a huge, angry crush on him, while also being extremely competitive and angry that she hasn’t been able to beat Ripley in battle, and he is, of course, without a clue to any of this.

Mothra - Volcarona - he/they - ??? Mothra takes a great deal after his adopted father, Ripley, in that he’s got his head in the clouds a great deal of the time. Dreaming while awake, dreaming of flying, dreaming of relaxing with his dad, dreaming of training instead of actually training. Not that he needs much training, he’s a prodigy when it comes to battle, a fact that makes the team very proud of team baby. He enjoys dancing and singing, but only in private. He’s very shy about the arts he engages in and doesn’t want to be judged for his skill or lack of skill.

While he was raised by and only considers Ripley to be his father, the whole team grouped together to help raise him so he considers them his extended family. A bunch of uncles and one cool lesbian aunt. The team does their best to support him and not put too much pressure on him, despite his prowess.

He’s currently exploring his gender and sexuality, and isn’t sure what it is, but he’s comfortable sitting outside the gender binary. And he loves dresses.

Darius - Darmanitan - he/him - gay Darius is a very jolly lad, and a very physically affection on at that, sometimes he’s still not used to his size after his growth spurt from evolving. He really loves to spread the love around and let everyone know they’re appreciated; sometimes with a little more intensity than needed. He’ll dial it back if asked, happily! He’d never want to make someone uncomfortable! Aside from that, he loves to cook, using his flames to fry and grill up food and feed their little family. The only thing he loves more than cooking is working out!

He’s close friends with Ripley and Amythest, Jo’s Gigalith, the three having bonded over their very short status during their pre-evolved forms. He’ll retrieve Ripley when he falls asleep in an inconvenient place and tuck him in somewhere safe.

You could say he’s close friends with Remy as well, who also bonded during their pre-evolved status, if close friends means kissing each other on the mouth. The two are very much in love and very openly affectionate.

Remy - Reuniclus - he/they - gay Remy would call himself a peppy kind of gal! He’s a powerful optimist and doesn’t let rain soak his blanket! Always a sunny disposition, despite being a very powerful empath and often overwhelmed with the emotions of those around him. He’s trained himself to shut them out and keep his own mood high to cope. Remy adores music, specifically dancing to music, and is often seen does aerobics in the early morning to the sunniest pop songs available. He’s not the only morning person, but he’s certainly the loudest.

He’s close with Ripley and Blu, Ripley from their days on team tiny, and Blu after being a person Blu could lay his head on and share his troubles. Just this once. It happens, and Blu needs it, and Remy is happy to provide for their fearless leader. Can’t be a fearless leader 24/7!

Remy is very much in love with Darius, wild, crazy love, and is the only one to call Darius ‘Darry.’ He’s proudly nonbinary and happy to help Mothra with all his questioning.

Zeus - Eelektross - she/her - lesbian Zeus is the only girl of this little family, and joined the team after all the craziness that was Team Plasma; she’ll proudly state how happy she is she dodged that bullet, she doesn’t have time for all that. As if she wouldn’t have loved a chance to get into a fight, as she’d happily jump into any battle to flex her enormous amount of power. She’s loud, proud, and got bite to back up her bark, you’d really not want to face her in battle. The only thing she loves more than battle, possibly, is a finely cooked meat dinner by Darius.

You’d think she’d be adverse to following orders of any kind or bowing to someone else’s lead, but she’s quite supportive of Blu as their leader, giving him very powerful smacks on the back in support.

She’s a major lesbian, and quite girl crazy, and huge flirt, and is currently trying to flirt her way into Rook, Mia’s Bisharp, ‘s heart and possibly her pants. It’s not working out for her so far.

[makoto-nanami]

Miraculous Rewrite: Origins Part 1 (Chapter 1)

Hi, this will be my first Miraculous fan fiction, while I love the show, I most definitely have my gripes with it, how they treat their characters is something that infuriates me, and while this fic may get salty sometimes, I do love the characters, it’s just because of the status quo that the writers are instant on maintaining, they can’t grow or act sometimes completely out of character. So I’ve decided to have a try at writing a fic with my own OC in, to act as the voice of reason when Marinette starts going overboard/borderline cringy or when Adrien is a innocent baby who doesn't understand the world or when he thinks it’s okay to have a tantrum or flirt with ladybug. I’ll be following the episodes, so they won’t be too different, just told from a different perspective. Again I apologise in later chapters if I seem too have ingested a ton of salt, but know if I salt on a character I plan to resolve it at the end of the episode. I hope you enjoy!

- Also, if anyone could suggest which tags this needs because I blanked when I tagged this... (-_-’)

Origins Part 1 - Chapter 1

Many millennia ago, concepts of life were born, however, these beings realised they had too much power, a power that could easily be abused. So, they gathered to a kind human who had chosen to live in isolation from the rest of his kind and protect the world when needed, a bestowed their blessings in hopes that the human would help them. The human was confused by the seemingly god-like beings’ request, how could they trust a lowly human such as himself, a coward who turned his back on the rest of the world after witnessing the corruption such power brought to his brethren? These gods simple smiled upon this man and said you are no hero, you are no villain, you are simply an observer, a helper, someone who despite his hate to the world, chose to protect it in its time of need.

So, the man heeded their call, creating magic jewels embedding them with extraordinary blessings from these gods, the Kwami, binding them to the jewels restricting their powers. These were… the Miraculous.

Throughout history, heroes have used these jewels for the good of humanity. However, The Creator of the Miraculous realised, that two of these jewels were more powerful than the other despite his efforts of balance; the earrings of the Ladybug, which provided creation; and the ring of the Black Cat, which granted the power of destruction. The Creator knew that whoever controlled both blessings would achieve absolute power, a power that the Kwami had feared would be manipulated with malicious intent. After realising his mistake, The Creator promised that no matter what, he would observe the Miraculous, personally in their times of use, as he could not stop humanities tragedy on his own; leaving the Jewels with his disciples allowing them to distribute when humanity cried out in suffering.

However, no one can live forever without a cost. Many have tried, all of them have failed with various degrees of success. Immortality is a fickle thing. Wishing for eternal youth, cursed to never grow, burying loved ones and always begging for an end to your torment. The Creator had witnessed this, one of his many mistakes, one he most definitely wanted to learn from. So, he wished to be reincarnated, to watch the miraculous in humanities time of need. Unfortunately, souls and memories of humans are just as fickle as the body. While he would reincarnate he would inherit the life his successor, cursed to watch as the loved ones drift away, fade and die, cursed to watch with red eyes.

But that’s just a silly story my mother would tell me as a child. She would tell me how maybe I could be the next reincarnation of this strange man; I’d laugh when she would tell me that. Then suddenly out of the blue; I started having strange thoughts, dreams of another time, voices of people crying out for help. My mother, Evangeline, a woman who raised me, a woman who while not connected to me in blood, still cared for me as if her own, one day told me this story again, this time… I did not laugh, I cried. I looked at my mother; realised… she had not aged a single day since the day I had met her all those years ago, she smiled and told me I was ready. She told me of her friend who trained to protect the Miraculous and how she housed and protected him in his early days after the temple was destroyed. She then explained how it was time for me to fulfil my promise to the world and how I would be going to Paris, France to work with her friend to protect the Miraculous.

Why though? It wasn’t my responsibility; I never made any promise to the world! All I wanted to be was slightly successful, hanging out with friends and working towards achieving my dreams as a P.I! I never wanted this! But as I was on the plane to Paris, I couldn’t deny it… I felt the pull of that man’s promise; I won’t give in though, no matter what I will not be that man! I will observe but I will not change myself, I will not become him, not while I still have my dreams of friendship and life.

Once in Paris, I find myself outside of a massage shop… this looks shady. Why the hell would Eva send me to a massage parlour? Well, I need to figure out what’s going on and figure out my living accommodations, so might as well bite the bullet on this shady place.

Knock-knock.

The door opened at the force of my knock; that’s some security for world-ending jewels. I make my way into the shop and spot an old man meditating… this is just getting weirder. As I’m about to announce myself, he speaks. “Welcome, Young Creator.” He opened his eyes, widening as he took in my appearance. “Well… this was not what I was suspecting at all.” Rude. “But worry not, come and I shall explain the gaps in your memory.”

“Excuse me, but I am not that man, obviously. I am my own person, while I intend on helping him fulfil his promise… I have no intention of becoming him.”

“But…”

“I’ll help you but know that I am not him.”

He stared at me considering my words before gesturing for me to sit down. I sit as he pours green tea into cups.

“I understand. Now allow me to introduce myself, I am Wang Fu, Evangeline has told me a lot about you.”

“Likewise. However, I am a little confused about the situation here in Paris. There is no media mention of any Miraculous holders, so obviously neither the Ladybug nor Black Cat is in circulation as the powers they hold are less than subtle when used, so why am I here?”

“I see, you are correct in your deduction of the state of the Miraculous’, however, you were drawn to Paris, correct? We believe that that pull indicates humanities potential ruin. As soon as you started to have visions of the past, Evangeline contacted me, I was already here in Paris so we decided it may be best to let you settle in and learn about your role and responsibilities hopefully before the path to ruin forms. Of course, due to your age as well, we have been forced to enrol you in a local school high school.”

I blanched at this, having already graduated from a high school for the gifted where it wasn’t considered strange for children to skip grades depending on their academic standing. Great… just freaking fantastic… Fu looks at me as if looking for my opinion, I simply sigh and shrug, excepting my fate, begrudgingly.

“So… Where exactly will I be living? I mean, not to be rude or anything, but this shop/apartment isn’t exactly big.”

“Yes, my home is only so big, and I already have a littler of picky roommates. Evangeline and I have decided to let you stay at her old home while she lived in Paris many years ago. She assured me that it would be to your tastes and it isn’t too far from your new school.”

Eva’s old home? I kinda worried now, she’s the sort of person who loves antiques and old dollies, sure she grew out of it when she adopted me but if this is her ‘old’ home… It’s not exactly a place I want to be, surrounded by creepy dolls and old stuff, at least I didn’t have to pay rent… wait…

“What about money? If I live alone, won’t I have to buy food and stuff?”

“Ah yes, Evangeline told me, that while she is more than happy to supply money for food and essentials, it will be sent to an account that will record what you buy, she stressed that I tell you that money is for essentials only.”

“Sounds like Eva… did she mention anything else?”

“Oh, she told me to give you this note when you asked about money.” He hands me a small note.

-       If you want games, junk, comics/books, anything not essential… GET A JOB!

-       Love you, Eva!

Yup… that’s definitely Eva. I laugh weakly, thinking who would hire a 13-year-old kid for more than a paper-round. Suddenly a flash of green whizzed around the room, I instinctively tensed ready to defend myself but quickly feeling foolish, seeing a green Turtle like creature.

“Wayzz…” I find myself muttering, having no idea of where the name came from… perhaps one of his memories.

“Master, Master! Master, the Moth Miraculous, I felt its aura!” Wait, what?

“I thought it had been lost forever!” He lost a Miraculous?! What?!

“But Master, it’s a negative aura. I fear it may have gotten into the hands of a dark power!” Oh just great!

“We must find Nooroo and his Miraculous. If it has gotten into the wrong hands, it means the path to ruin has formed and there’s no telling what evil will come to the world!” He stands raising his fist hand to the ceiling, a green turtle shell charm bracelet reviling itself. I find myself stammering.

“Hh-hey wait a sec- “

“Time to transform! Wayzz- Hack!” He doubles over in pain. If I wasn’t so confused, I’d find this almost comical… almost. Wayzz floats over to him almost exasperated.

“Please Master. Be reasonable. You are- “

“Still young! I’m only 186.” Only?! Then again, I just found out the woman who raised me is an immortal child, so what do I know. “But you’re right, Wayzz. Young One, I can no longer do it alone, it is time… We’ll need some help.” He walks over to the gramophone and revealing a box with symbols I somehow knew all too well, a box that housed the most powerful jewels in the world, the Miraculous.

As we roam the streets of Paris, I notice a school. Other kids making their way inside, chatting about their summer vacation. I feel myself dread at the idea of enrolling during the second year, everyone already knows each other, it’s gonna feel weird, dammit. We get to a crossing and I see a short navy haired girl rush out of the bakery across the street with a box in her hands, as I am about to dismiss her from my thoughts, Fu started to walk forward acting frail and old despite the light still being red for pedestrians. “Hey, wait!”

“Uuuhhaawh?!” The girl rushed out and grabs him by the hand, taking him to the other side of the street, dropping the box in the process. The light changes and I rush over, noticing people stepping on the baked goods that fell out the box.

“Thank you, miss. Oh! What a disaster.” Yeah, I wonder who’s fault that is, old man. I pick the box up and hand her it back.

“Sorry about your macarons, he just walked into the road suddenly.”

“Don’t worry, I’m no stranger to disasters, besides, there are still a few left. Would you like one?” She said kindly, offering the box to pick one out. Fu reached out and took one before eating it.

“Mmmh. Delicious! Do you attend Françoise Dupont? My friend’s child here is enrolling today for the second-year class.” Wait, what’s he doing?

“Oh really? Welcome to Dupont then! Do you know which class you’ll be in?”

“Erm, I believe Miss Bustier’s class?”

“Same here! Would you like me to show you the way?”

“Oh no, there’s no nee- “

“Oh thank you, it’s reassuring that this little one will have such a friendly face in class.” What the hell old man!? As if reading my thoughts, he looked at me innocently. “After all, it’s normal for a child to attend the first day of school, right?” Ack… he goddamned planned this! I don’t know how but he definitely planned this! Aren’t I supposed to help you find the holders for the Miraculous, Fu? Again, he simply smiles as he looks at me. “I’ll inform you of my progress when school finishes.”

“Oh no, we’re gonna be late! Ah, have a nice day, sir! Come on!” She cries as she pulls me along. “Oh, how rude! I don’t think I’ve asked your name!”

“My name? Oh, it’s Alice.”

“Alice, eh? Nice to meet you, and I must say, what lovely red eyes you have!”

[shadowthrone-ammanas]

Prompt-thing: Fire Spirits to torment Vanessa.

First, I can no long think about the Fire Spirits without also thinking about the Conductor, hope that’s okay. Second, another fic that’s probably in the same timeline as Guilt (I think I might just start calling it the ‘adopted timeline/au’). Third, this drabble fic thing ends sooner then I’d have liked it to but it’s almost 2am and I’m already running on like 6 hours of sleep (so if the end part is a bit more incoherent than other drabbles, that’s why) so that’s where it ended because I need sleep. It still wraps things up though, I think, and is a definitely at a point where I’d scene cut anyway. I might do a continuation later though, I know I would like to. And finally, thank you for the request!

Fire Spirits

The fire spirits were back. They always came back. If Snatcher didn’t know better, he’d say it was because they liked annoying him. But no, it was because the forest was a place of high spiritual energy, it attracted them like moths to a flame.

He couldn’t make them go away either. They didn’t listen to him and their brand of magical energy was resistance to his, making destroying them take a lot of effort. With how powerful he was, he could force it if he really had to but it was a pain and exhausting so he preferred to make contractors deal with them instead. He maybe wouldn’t have to this time though because he officially had an adoptive daughter he might finally have a real use for.

“Hey kiddo,” he said with a grin as he popped in on her as she exited her ship now parked in his forest. “I’ve got a job for you.”

Hat Kid’s face let up. “What kind of job?”

“The fire spirits are starting to come back. I would like you to take care of them before they start making themselves too much of a nuisance. Think of it as your way of earning you keep around here, a house chore or whatever.”

“Okay! But… I’ve always wondered why you don’t destroy them. I mean you’re like super powerful and stuff and they’re not so… can’t you deal with them? Are you just lazy?”

“No, I’m not lazy.” The fact that she’d suggest such a thing was a bit offensive but he’d let it slid for now. “The reason I don’t deal with them myself is it takes a lot of energy to take them out. They’re beings made of fire, meaning light basically. I’m a being made of primarily shadow energy. Not true opposites but throwing shadow magic at light beings doesn’t exactly have great results.”

“So… it’s like Pokémon? Your attacks aren’t very effective because it’s a poor type match up?”

“I don’t know what that means but… sure I guess, my attacks aren’t very effective against them. Hence why I prefer someone else to handle it so I don’t have to. So hop to it.” He clapped his hands twice to spur her on.

She didn’t move though instead she seemed deep in thought about something. “They’re fire spirits,” she mumbled to herself, “and going off Pokémon rules that would mean…” She trailed off as a mischievous smile spread across her face. An idea had occurred to her, that was almost never a good thing. “I have an idea,” she said, speaking to him again. “Instead of getting rid of them you should send them to torment your ex!”

Snatcher had been preparing to say ‘no’ but stopped. “Huh?”

“You should send them to torment your crazy ex,” Hat Kid repeated. “I mean they’re fire spirits with fire magic and your ex is an ice bitch with ice magic so they should be super effective against her. Don’t you want to mess with her? She’s a horrible wretched evil peck neck. You should burn her house down! I bet it’ll be fun!” She her smile was now more evil that mischievous. Good.

Snatcher had never considered doing such a thing before. He’d always been so focused on not having anything more to do with her, only fending her off whenever she decided to invade his forest, that he’d never considered trying to do anything to mess with them. It was honestly a huge oversight on his part.

“You know what kid, I’m suddenly glad I adopted you, you’re smart,” he said. She beamed at his praise. “There is a problem with your idea though, they won’t listen to me. I’ve tried to tell them to go away or take down their stupid fire barriers at least a hundred times over the years, if not more.” Probably more because the first time they’d appeared he’d still been trying to be at least sort of a good guy. They didn’t have souls he could eat – he’d tried but it had hurt him – and other than for the barriers – which weren’t intended to harm anyone and actually seemed to be just a byproduct of their rituals – they weren’t doing anything bad so he’d been reluctant to kill them. “I doubt they’d listen to you either because of how much time you spend with me and the Subconites, you reek of death and shadows.”

Her face fell. “Does that mean we can’t send them to torment Vanessa?”

“It means we can’t but I know someone they should listen to and that someone will listen to me.”

“Really? Who is it?”

“The Conductor.”

“Why would they listen to…”

Snatcher didn’t let her finish before teleporting away.

***

The Conductor was just about to leave his dressing room when he suddenly had the sense that something was behind him so he should probably turn and check. It was probably just paranoia but… It was Snatcher.

He couldn’t help jumping a little in fright and taking a step back. Not many people survived direct encounters with the infamous Snatcher. The Conductor was one of the lucky few but the thing he’d had to do to accomplish that feat had been abhorrent. So he wasn’t a fan of the ghost and was honestly terrified.

“What the peck do you want?” he said because no way was he going to let his terror show.

Snatcher grinned wide. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“I ain’t trying to kill the lass again, no matter what you say. You can eat my pecking soul, I don’t care.” He shouldn’t have cared the first time but… he’d been taken by surprise and terrified.

“Well good thing I wasn’t going to ask you to. Now, I would take your soul but alas I have a feeling a certain child now legally in my care would be rather displeased with me if I did. It’s annoying when she cries so I’d rather not deal with that.”

The Conductor had almost forgotten Snatcher had adopted Hat Kid because honestly, he didn’t want it to be true. Snatcher was well the Snatcher, he ate people’s souls, he’d tried to murder Hat Kid, had forced the Conductor and others to try as well. And yet Hat Kid insisted he was a good guy deep down inside and that he cared about her. She’d even shown the Conductor and DJ Grooves a copy of the adoption papers Snatcher had written up to adopt her. He had signed it though so Hat Kid’s claims had to have some truth to them even if the Conductor disagreed with the whole adoption. He’d no choice but to accept it and try not to think about it too much because he couldn’t do anything about it.

“Now,” Snatcher continued, “because of our history I know you probably don’t want to help me. And honestly, I don’t blame you, from your perspective things were pretty bad. But we’re past that now, right? So I need you to…”

“‘Pretty bad’? That wasn’t ‘pretty bad’, that was pecking…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Snatcher cut in, making a placating gesture with one had that made the Conductor’s blood boil with rage he couldn’t do anything with because he was facing Snatcher. “You’re an angry fire lizard, I understand. I’ll have you know though, the favor I’m asking you to do was Hat Kid’s idea. She’s actually really smart sometimes, would you believe it?”

“She’s smart all the time you peck-neck.”

“If you say so. Now, I need you to talk to the fire spirits in my forest and tell them to harass the Ice Queen Vanessa instead of me. They should listen to you because I’m pretty sure dragons are on the top rank of the fire beings, right? Even the small feathered ones like yourself.”

“What the peck are you talking about? I’m not a dragon.”

“Oh, you’re not? I’m pretty sure you are. I could be wrong though I guess because all I know for sure is you have fire magic. There are a number of ways that’s possible, none of them make a difference for what I’m asking you to do though so it doesn’t matter. Let’s go.” He snapped his fingers and the world around them shifted to deep purple.

“Peck you, you pecking peck neck,” the Conductor said instead of being afraid like he’d wanted to be because whatever the peck was going on here was not okay.

The purple faded and suddenly they were in the forest next to Hat Kid and her ship, now parked. “Uncle Con,” she said with a smile.

“Uh… hey lass,” he said, glancing around. The forest was dark and creepy, he did not like it especially since Snatcher was looming over them now that he had all the room in the world to do so. He was a dumb showoff, why couldn’t he stay a normal person size? He just liked being bigger and taking up more room than everyone else because he was bully and a peck-neck. Before the Conductor could say something about it though…

“Now go talk to the fire spirits for us,” Snatcher said. “It’s important, right kiddo?”

“Yes! I don’t know why they’d listen to you Uncle Con but if they do, go tell them to burn down Vanessa’s Manor!” The evil glee in Hat Kid’s eyes and voice was concerning. But was it because she was spending too much time with Snatcher or just how she naturally was and that’s what had drawn her to Snatcher in the first place?

“Why?” the Conductor asked to avoid dealing with that question.

“Because she’s horrible and awful and evil and just the pecking worst.”

Well if Hat Kid hated this Vanessa person so much she must be truly terrible, worse than Snatcher because Hat Kid didn’t hate him. And come to think of it, hadn’t the Conductor heard tales about an Ice Queen Vanessa? She’d frozen her entire kingdom, killing everyone in it, or something like that, right? So yeah, she probably deserved to have her house burnt down at least.

“Fine.” The Conductor sighed. “I’ll talk to them.” And they probably would do as he asked because in his experience, fire spirits tended to more often than not. He’d always assumed it was because he was half fire spirit but maybe it was something else like Snatcher had suggested? … Nah, no way. And he didn’t care anyway. He just wanted done with this business as soon as possible so he could leave the damn forest.

For this drabble event.

[the-curious-butterfly]

Puffy Wuffy Cloud

A short Charlie/Vaggie about Charlie giving Vaggie a pet. Inspired by this post

~~~

Sneaking her way through the hotel lobby, looking quite like a criminal to everyone who saw her but didn't care enough to ask, Charlie giggled sweetly as she thought about the look Vaggie would have on her face when presented with the little bundle of joy she had in her arms.

A bundle of joy that was honestly quite difficult to procure considering most animals tended to be a bit...aggressive. But not Cloud! Cloud was as sweet as they can be. True it wasn't exactly a high bar but the sentiment still stands.

Ducking her way into the elevator, Charlie pressed the button for the penthouse suite her and Vaggie shared together before letting out a sigh of relief.

"Operation 'Surprise Vaggie' is going well so far. I just know she's gonna love you, yes she will, yes she will." The princess of hell cooed to the tiny bundle in her arms when the elevator suddenly dinged and came to a stop.

Once again adapting a stealthy persona (which is about the equivalent of a giraffe trying to cross a busy intersection without being noticed) she made her way over without incident, mainly because there was no one in the hall, to the big double doors of her and Vaggie's home.

With a smile so wide it would be painful to anyone else, she slowly and cautiously brought up a pale and dainty hand then knocked with such a force even the Hulk would be proud of."VAGG-Eeee!!"

Only to get hit in the face with a door and be knocked to the ground.

"ANGEL I SWEAR TO GOD TE VOYA ARRANCARTE LA CABEZA Y DA LO A TU CERDO PARA COMER!! AND I DONT MEAN THE ONE ON YOUR SHOULDERS!!!

Charlie rubs her face with one hand while still holding onto Cloud with the other. "Hi to you too, hun." She glared/pouted at her girlfriend.

The look of regret on Vaggie's face was enough for the princess to forgive her, it was as if she kicked a puppy, though she did kinda do the equivalent of that.

"CHARLIE?! Babe I'm so sorry, I thought- Angel was- I'M SO SORRY!" the moth demon rushed to help the poor girl who defiantly never did anything to deserve a door to the face from a stranger let alone her girlfriend.

"I'm fine but the baby-"

Vaggie's brain: THE BABY?!

Charlie quickly and secretly checked on the bundle in her arms. "Oh good, the baby is okay too." She sighed with relief.

Vaggie's brain: THE BABY IS OKAY? THE BABY...WHAT BABY?!

"Um, what baby?" Vaggie, the master of social interactions.

"Our baby." Short and simple and said with the sweetest of smiles.

"Oh god, you didn't think to talk to me before you went and adopted one!?"

"I wanted to surprise you." Came the rather shy but incredibly cute reply that one would never imagine coming from someone who held the title Princess of Hell.

She was still holding the tiny bundle that didn't look baby shaped at all. Then again this was a place of demons and most didn't look human shaped... Oh shit Vaggie wasn't ready to raise a demon!

"Charlie, I love you, but I don't think we're ready to be parents yet. Please take it back!"

"Wait wha- Oh!" Charlie's look of confusion turned into one of amusement. "Not that kind of baby, silly." Before being completely overtaken by laughter she handed the bundle over.

Out poked a tiny white head with big ears and small yet gentle eyes. "Oh, a rabbit." The moth demon felt rather embarrassed.

"It's for you." Charlie managed to get out between bursts of laughter "Well, for both of us but mostly you."

Vaggie's embarrassment turned to surprise "for me?"

The princess finally calmed down enough to talk normally. "Pets are suppose to be great help when dealing with anger and stress. Plus they're super duper cute. I named her Cloud." Charlie once again cooed at the little bunny that was now in Vaggie's arms. "Yes you're so cute arent you."

The name fitted the critter like a glove, it certainly looked like Charlie's definition of "puffy wuffy."

Vaggie never had a pet, never had the time, patience, or money to take care of one...but she did desire one dearly as a girl. Back then she was a small girl in a poor family, she didn't care what it was she just wanted a friend. Maybe if she had one...she wouldn't have grown up so cold...

Then again, as she looked up and saw those sweet gentle eyes she grew to love, maybe she wouldn't have met Charlie either. Vaggie couldn't imagine a life without Charlie. Which was really ironic considering she was already dead. Dead yet at the same time she never felt so alive. It was Charlie's power over her, one of many. To think how different her life woulda been if she knew this girl during it. Maybe they'd both be living in heaven right now. But who cares about that, anywhere is fine as long as there was Charlie.

"Yoohoo, hell to Vaggie?" Charlie was waving a hand in front of her face.

"Huh?"

"You spaced out on me, where'd you go?"

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"That even hell is heaven as long as there's you."

Not many things could make the incredibly talkative demon speechless but that did the trick. The little red dots on Charlie's face even grew to twice their size.

"Thank you, I... I always wanted a pet." Vaggie blushed as she looked down at the critter, smiling softly as it wiggled its nose at her.

"Charlie?!" Suddenly there were arms around her neck pulling her close and another forehead against her own. Vaggie wrapped her free arm around Charlie's waist, her eyes and sweet smile only inches away.

They weren't the overly romantic type, especially in public. They didn't need to kiss or hold hands all the time. Small gestures were always more than enough for them. It never bothered them when some would say they weren't a real couple if they weren't trying to get in each other's pants often. In fact they preferred it this way, it made the times like this, the romantic times, all the more sweeter.

The two stood like that in silence for a good while until Charlie spoke up. "I love you too."

"I know." Was Vaggie's near silent reply as she brought their lips together. The kiss was sweet, gentle, romantic, and very short since Cloud was suffering and struggling to get out from between them.

"Oops, sorry sweetie!" Charlie pleaded for forgiveness while patting the bunny on the head.

"We're such terrible parents, we almost crushed our baby." The moth demon laughed.

Charlie narrowed her eyes as she took on a teasing tone. "By the way, what was that about 'not yet'?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Not yet would imply 'one day'."

"Why are you so annoying?"

"How rude, maybe I will take Cloud back. See how you feel about that."

"You'd be crying the whole time until I'd go bring them back."

"You're right, I would." Charlie's frown was comical as she sagged, causing Vaggie to smile once again.

A smile that was very much short lived when they heard yelling coming from the floor below.

"Oh Vaggie, it's time for Fat Nugget's 4 o'clock bath!"

"WHY CAN'T NIFFTY DO IT?!" The moth demon growled back.

"Cause she's busy givin me my 4 o'clock bath." Angel replied with a smug laugh.

"Voy a matar a ese cerdo." Vaggie grumbled under her breath causing Charlie, having spent long enough with her partner to catch on to some words and phrases, to gasp.

"Don't hurt Fat Nuggets!"

"Why would I hurt Fat Nuggets?" The moth genuinely wondered as Charlie shook her head.

"How bout me and Cloud come with you and help out?"

"We can't bring Cloud to Angel's room, that's child endangerment!"

"It can't be that bad if Fat Nuggets is still okay. Besides, if anything ever happened to my babies." The princess' eyes turned a shade darker and the tips of her horns poked out of her hair as she smiled. "I'd skin him alive."

It was times like these Vaggie was reminded that despite Charlie being hells version of a Disney princess and the kindest demon you'd ever meet. She was still very much a demon.

And damn was Vaggie proud.

[toooldforfandom-liveblogs]

She-Ra and the Princesses of Power S01E03 - Razz

Uhm. Maybe “Razz” is a name? It could be the name of that buff woman in the opening. Other than that, I have no idea what the title could be about. There are a lot of things that could happen though, how is Adora going to be received? How is Catra going to explain what happened to Shadow Weaver? How's the horde going to react? Lots of questions so, let's do this!

Wait, wait, wait, where is the awesome opening song? You can't do this to me, She-Ra! You can't introduce a song I haven't been able to stop listening and just take it away like that!

Glimmer may be the one riding that horse but it's 100% Adora's. It _looks_ like she's leading the horse but she's just making sure no one steals it.

"MY HORSE"

This show has an incredible handle of comedic timing.

oh my god

you bet your life I'm singing along

So, is crab lady Razz?

How do they recharge? Is it just about sleeping in the right place, or is it more involved than that?

Huh. I don't remember her name being mentioned in the subtitles before. Angella sure follows the "name as transparent about its meaning as possible" rule.

Is this entire cartoon about teaching kids to charge their mobile phones before leaving home?

Narrator: She won't.

So... would Glimmer just die if she doesn't recharge? Are they bound to their charging stations like an old laptop?

Voice director: Think of a balloon deflating. Embody the ballon. BE THE BALLON, ADORA.

Also, well, that makes sense. Isn't the horde winning the war? At least that's what I remember, considering Shadow Weaver implied that one decisive attack (with Adora in charge) would be enough, but maybe she was lying.

1. This is hilarious.

2. I remember thinking that Glimmer knew something about "She-Ra," would transforming be enough to convince everyone that Adora is indeed on their side now if it's a known legend?

Makes sense.

So it _is_ like the Avatar state!

That's what I've been doing since I watched last episode.

"MY HORSE!"

This is just a love story between a girl and her horse, everything else is just incidental.

I'm sure this is going to turn out _fine_. What's wrong with a disguised horde soldier armed with a giant sword trying to steal horses anyway.

Imagine those beady eyes judging you and your entire life. "You're never going to be enough," he's neighs in my nightmares.

That's _definitely_ not her normal voice.

Welp. Can't believe She-Ra ended this way. Maybe Glimmer can now become She-Ra? There _are_ a lot of episodes left somehow

Exact same energy as this

So... the horse is She-Ra now.

I think this is the first time I see a magical pet being very not okay at being a magical pet.

If she transforms to catch her horse it's really going to solidify that the show is about Adora and her horse.

Welp. Time to make a killing selling pitchforks and torches.

"And my job here is gone, toodles"

And meanwhile Bow and Glimmer are outside the room wondering what's taking so long.

So, why is Angella the only one with an English accent? Is it just because of the VA or does it mean something in-show? Hm.

Aw, c'mon subtitles. She fled "with the help of a winged beast," that's important!

I like that the Queen instantly knew to blame the kids. Maybe how much dumb stuff they have done through the years.

Oh, they were there. Nice touch with that raptor helping his teammate. Just a team on the wrong side of the war.

Welp, direct hit to Catra's insecurities.

Oof.

What an interesting dynamic. I thought Catra would just be angry and feeling betrayed (and she is) but I didn't realize her team would also be a problem.

For some reason she looks like she's from a completely different show and was been rotoscoped into this one.

...I really thought Razz would be the horse.

Huh. So she can see the past and Mara was the previous holder? Maybe Adora's mom?

I thought the "First Ones" were incredibly old, how does Razz know about that kind of thing? Is she the last "First One," still alive somehow?

Is Adora a reincarnation? Hm.

IS SHE SUPERMAN

My heart. It's too early for this.

Exactly what Glimmer was angry about. I like the idea of the new generation being the one pushing towards a more active way of thinking, to protect those left behind.

That's just standard main character procedure when lost.

I thought the light may mean the sword had finished charging but maybe it reacted to Razz? Or the Horde? Hm.

And she really is going to transform to help her horse.

I just realized what was going on with Ma-Ra.

No one has looked more fabulous while possibly murdering a child soldier.

Okay then, that was informative. She-Ra has limits in what she can take and she only seems able to transform to protect people (or horses.)

Can't believe Razz named Adora's horse, that's like against the law or something.

Holy crap that stare from Swift Wind.

"Just follow the moths"

The intense dead stare has to be intentional, right? It's killing me.

Zero emotion whatsover. It's too early to tell but I think that horse is a sociopath.

I'm not sure if it's because everyone else is really expressive or if it's a directorial decision to make limit her range but Angella's voice is probably the one I like the least so far.

Okay, she can transform to protect people and horses and to make absolutely striking entrances.

I wasn't absolutely sure before but She-Ra really is like a foot taller than Adora.

That didn't work out great for the last group that had a prophecy about someone bringing balance ~~to the force~~.

The subtitles omitting "vouch" makes it sound like Glimmer needs to promise to clean the litter box before Adora is welcomed.

"uhm, I'm actually adora now?"

Aww.

I _love_ that they keep giving depth to Catra. She already had a couple of valid reasons to be angry and to make her attacking Adora not feel like it was coming out of nowhere, but they keep building her up. Maybe she doesn't like Shadow Weaver but she just received validation from the most powerful being in the Horde.

---

Another great episode. It's all still mostly set-up for the world, but the characters are so charming and the writers are doing such a good job at keeping the pace that I can't complain.

I'm not sure how to feel about Razz. Including a weird, old lady that knows more than she's telling as moral support/compass is not... unexpected, but I'm worried about what her existence does to the story. I bet Razz knows most of the answers to the current and future mysteries of the show but with the way her character is written I'd also bet that no one is ever going to ask her until it's too late. It's not an uncommon trope but it can be frustrating if it's not handled well.

Other than that slight worry about the future, this episode had a lot of interesting lore and world-building drops.

Who's Mara? (Was it actually Ma-Ra?) Was she Adora's mom? If that's the case, how would that work with the flashback being what I assume was Adora's crash into Etheria?

The flashback has 

Light Hope, which could be either from the past or from her touching the sword 

A quick zoom to a planet (Etheria?) which could be a spaceship crashing into it 

Bright Moon, which looks _exactly_ like it currently does. So, either Bright Moon hasn't changed in... how old is Adora again? Or the vision is not exactly a flashback. 

Something crashing into the desert. I thought it was a meteorite or something similar, a disaster to avoid, but it probably was Adora crashing into Etheria. Was it there where Shadow Weaver found her? 

A temple, which seems to be where Adora and Razz went picking berries but many years in the past. 

A portal, in a place with crystals growing out the ground. 

A baby looking out... a pod? To a planet that looks a lot like Etheria. Especially considering there's another moon in the sky.

So the timeline would be: Adora is born in that moon, something happened (the portal?) and to help her survive she's sent to Etheria, her crashed spaceship being found by Shadow Weaver who "adopts" her into the Horde. This doesn't explain the Temple or Bright Moon but it's something.

Another alternative would be that the flashbacks are not Adora's, but someone else's. Maybe Mara? And Adora is getting them because of the sword. This would explain how Razz knows Mara, since if Adora was the one who escaped the moon, how would Razz know her predecessor?

For a second I thought about a third alternative: "maybe the Adora finding the sword is an accident, Adora really was born into the Horde and her past is not really a mystery, she gained her destiny only after touching the sword," _but_ I checked the previous episodes and Light Hope calls her by her name so I kinda doubt that's the path they are going to take.

So, Adora was special from the start. We just don't know how yet. She either escaped a doomed moon(?) or maybe she's the child of whoever escaped the doomed moon. In any case I'm intrigued.

But, I'm more intrigued by Catra. No matter the mysteries behind Adora's past, she's the hero of the story. She may waver or doubt herself but there won't be any radical changes in her path. But Catra... Catra can do and be anything. 

"Brave, loyal but afraid" is how Razz described Adora, but that description fits Catra just as well. She may be _really_ afraid of the Horde considering she chose to stay with them instead of going with Adora, and she may be feeling incredibly betrayed by her best friend and almost sister but even then she refused to tell them where and what Adora is now. But after a life of being in the shadow of Adora (because Shadow Weaver obviously prefers her) there's finally someone that believes in her, enough to make her Force Captain. It's a great origin story and there's so much potential in her character and where it could go that I hope it doesn't stop here.

Some unrelated final questions:

Angella never addressed Adora by her name. That's... worrying. Is she just using her to have She-Ra? 

Something that has been nagging me since they revealed that the princesses charge by sleeping under a magic light: What happens if Bright Moon is destroyed? Do they all die after they run out of charge? They have been putting a lot of emphasis in the limits of their magic and how it works so it really feels like it'll be a problem.

I think that's all, until next time!

[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.

###

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