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sophi-s · 3 years

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In Their Hollow Heart

Chapter I: Sealed Fate

Fandom: Hollow Knight video game

Words: 9,153

Characters: The Hollow Knight, The Pale King, The Radiance

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Violence, Sickness, Angst, Mind manipulation, Gross imagery, Permanent injury, Mentions of vomit, Suicidal thoughts, THK really needs a hug :(, SPOILERS for the game (That's a lot of warnings, :O)

Summary:

There is a good reason why the Hollow Knight doesn't discuss with anyone what happened in the Black Egg Temple.

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In the eternal kingdom of Hallownest there were many places one could without hesitation call decrepit or desolated at best. Especially after the plague of the Old Light has swept through it like a tidal wave. None of them, however, were able to match the current state of the Crossroads. Many of the inhabitants left in panic once they realised it was the epicenter of the vile Infection, leaving the place nearly completely abandoned. Crossroads were unfortunate enough to be the first area to succumb to Her wrath. But that was years ago. And only recently the orange veins shriveled up and receded, much to all bugs' relief. Their King had finally found the solution to the frightening disease of Dreams and Mind that now seemed like a distant memory. The sickly sweet smell of the plague of the Old Light made place for a stale aroma of dust and dirt of underground tunnels, as though nothing had ever happened.

The Hollow Knight however - even with their void-dulled sense of smell - could still detect the nauseating scent drifting through the caverns. Hovering nearby wherever they went. Or maybe it was just them? Were they already going crazy? Maybe. Maybe not. A barely noticeable tint of orange invaded the corner of their vision… Do not think. They reprimanded themself, forcing the vibrant color to disappear, as they stood before a gaping entrance to the temple of the Black Egg. An accursed place that would soon become their tomb. They tried not to compare it to being buried alive… But no matter how you look at it, unless the King finds a way to get rid of Her for good this will be their final resting place. A grave. And they would be a living corpse hidden inside forever. A frightening perspective… Do not.. Even though they were trying their best to hide it, they were in pain. Pain so great that it had them trembling, unable to cry out or make any sound to voice their suffering to be honest. Do not speak… An alien feeling, as though someone had poured liquid fire into their body, ever since the source of the Infection was placed within them, was constantly there. It's been barely half an hour, yet it hurts so much already… The Goddess was more powerful than they ever imagined. Do not feel. Easier said than done. But they can fight it. They have to fight it. For Hallownest. For the King… their father.

The Pale Monarch in question silently stood beside the Pure Vessel, staring off into the impenetrable darkness filling up the temple constructed for the sole purpose - one it shared with the Hollow Knight - no discernible expression on his face. This was it. Once they enter here, they won't leave. A one way ticket to their damnation. As tempting as it was, the Hollow Knight did not make a move to look at the Pale King. That would mean they have thoughts and feelings. They weren't supposed to. They didn't want to disappoint him. He tried so hard to save this kingdom and he desperately needed his child to be pure, devoid of any emotion, without a mind or will… the Hollow Knight hated that they weren't pure like their father wanted them to be. They detested it. But for him they had to be pure. They couldn't fail him. They wouldn't fail him. She can push against them all She wants, they're not going to break that easily. With a soundless groan, they blink away the bright pinpricks swirling before their eyes and shudder at the heat welling up in their chest only to be cooled down by the Void in their heart. It will take some getting used to… No one said it's going to be easy to hold onto a raging Goddess of Dreams. But they can do this. Right?

"Vessel."

Automatically, the Hollow Knight turns their head to face the owner of the stern, seemingly indifferent voice as he addresses them, and shoots a glance at the Pale King looking up at them with as much dignity as he can, considering he was barely up to the Vessel's hip by that point. They always found it strange. That after their second molt, their father started to have to look up at them. How fast the time had passed.. Not so long ago, they were just a hatchling, no taller than the King's shoulder, following him obediently wherever he went, always fulfilling his orders without a second of hesitation. Just like he wanted them to. And now? They were towering over him like he did over them back then at the summit of the Abyss.

It was not the curiosity that made them turn to the King. They shouldn't be curious. They can't. It would mean their inevitable failure before their task even truly began. Because that's what they were always meant to be. Emotionless. Empty. Hollow.. But no matter how hard they tried, they weren't. They never were… However, they were immensely good at their act. Without a single sound, the Hollow Knight watched their father for a moment as he tried to find the right words. In a very odd, sort of amusing way, the Pale King knitted his eyebrows in annoyance and sighed in exasperation at his own height before making a beckoning gesture with one of his four hands while the other three remained tucked into his white cloak. Amusement. It makes one want to chuckle at something one finds funny.

"Come down here."

Not waiting a second, the Hollow Knight bent down and noisily got on one knee - dropping much heavier than they intended due to the pain which was for now blessedly dissipating - to be on the eye level with their father. The Pale King was a mysterious creature. A Wyrm, a God of Mind and Soul, taking a form of a small bug, always aloof and regal. But sometimes, the façade would slip to reveal something more than a cold monarch without care for anything other than Hallownest. He didn't seem to care about hundreds of vessels that died in the dark depths of the Abyss. He didn't seem to care when Xero was executed for treason (executed might be s bit of a stretch. The moth died where he stood when he attacked the King). And he didn't seem to care when the allied Mantis Lord succumbed to the Infection on his own volition after the tragic loss of his only daughter. But Wyrm’s child knew their father too well. Up this close, even with his stern mask of a ruler in its place, the Hollow Knight could clearly see that he did, in fact, care. The dull look in his dark eyes spoke volumes. Sadness. This one makes one want to cry and takes away the will to do anything. His glimmering, half-translucent wings quivered ever so slightly.. He cares. He cared when their mother, the Root, had left the White Palace and hid away in her gardens when grief and remorse became too much for her to bear. He always cared, even though very few could see it. And now, he cares that he is about to lock his only surviving offspring away with a furious moth Goddess sealed inside of them. Condemn them to an endless torture. Was it too late for regrets?

For just a short second, the King stepped a little closer to the Pure Vessel. Reached out… The black heart hastened in their chest, partially because of anticipation and partially because whatever this gesture made them feel caused the faint haze to fall over their sight again. The pale hand stained black with Void was inches away from the Hollow Knight's cheek, they could practically feel it rest on their shell already. Was it to be the first and the last time their father found it in himself to actually openly and consciously grant them a small sign of affection? Was it?

Before the blackened claws could come into contact with their white shell however, the Pale King closed his eyes in defeat and turning away slipped his hand back into the folds of his cloak. A new feeling, like many others before it, was forced down to not give Her this satisfaction that She's winning. Disappointment. When one doesn't get something much awaited. Or when something doesn't meet one's expectations. Reminding them again. Do not hope. The Hollow Knight didn't make a move aside from the occasional shiver caused by the burning in their gut and in their head. Maybe he was right not to follow through with it.. Yes, he knows it best. It will be better this way. No distractions to keep the Pure Vessel from containing the Radiance.

"Stay strong, Hollow Knight.. Do not fail me."

Never, father.

The Hollow Knight was glad their facial expression cannot really change as it now would be scrunched up in frustration and a little bit of anger. This one they were rather familiar with. Makes one want to hit something or be surly. They were thinking. Again. Why is it so hard? Sometimes, they really wished they were born without a mind. At least, they wouldn't have to fear disappointing their father. And maybe just once he would have a reason to be truly proud of them.. Fortunately, the plague didn't seem to take advantage of their lapse in self control. If anything, the spiteful presence behind it recoiled almost in disgust as it listened to their short thought. Good.

"It is time. Come."

Their father solemnly stated and slowly stepped into the Egg, the Hollow Knight following close behind, begging their legs not to fail them when they felt like their limbs were empty. Pure Vessel focused on the sound of shuffling metal, the plates of their armor scraping against one another, the only sound in the thick silence of the Void pressing against the walls of the temple, as they walked after the familiar, soft, pale glow of their father's form through the pitch black darkness - just like that fateful day of their birth - ignoring the intricate white sigils forming wherever their and their father's feet fell. Merely the close proximity to the Void filling up the temple made the Radiance hiss with alarm. She and this darkness were mortal enemies since the dawn of time. The Void was pressing against them as well, a house for the Old Light. They only hoped-... No. Do not hope. Breathing in the cold, still air and exhaling without a sound, the Hollow Knight repeated the words in their head. Echo of it seemed like a mantra they kept wordlessly saying to themself whenever in doubt of the success of their purpose.

Do not think.

Do not speak.

Do not hope.

Do not feel.

"Hollow Knight."

Their head perked up in attention at their father's call. He stood beside a stone tablet glimmering with white lights forming into words. To the Hollow Knight, those were just meaningless symbols. Like those scribbled on the letters his father was writing. They lacked both of those abilities - reading and writing - but with these tablets it wasn't necessary. The chunks of carved stone were infused with Soul after all, allowing everyone to know the message placed upon them. Gesturing to it, the Pale King didn't look up at the Knight.

"Lay your hand upon it and claim its wisdom. My last gift to you."

A gift? One of the few they'd ever received, with others being a necklace from their mother (a solid silver teardrop stored away in a simple locket on a delicate chain), the pure nail from a skilled nailsmith at the request of their father once they reached adolescence and a small, wooden figurine of a spider from their younger half-sister Hornet. Kneeling down in front of the glowing tablet, the white light reflecting in their spotless armor and washing over their features, the Hollow Knight did as they were told. Almost immediately, the magic crept up their arm and the words inscribed on the tablet turned into a quiet but unmistakable whisper in their head.

Vessel. Though bound, you shall know the state of the world.

Hallownest will be whole again.

As confusing as those words were, soon everything became clear once the Hollow Knight's vision for just a sliver of a second was projected through the fabric of reality and wandered across Hallownest before quickly returning to the tablet before them. Their father's last gift… Whenever they wish, they could gaze upon the land they'd saved. The land they'd freed from the clutches of the vengeful deity. The world that would move on without them while they silently remained on their post to guard it from the plague that crippled minds of its inhabitants. They wished to thank him. They really did. But they knew they couldn't..

"Go, Vessel. Fulfil your destiny."

It was hard to miss the slight crack in the Pale King's voice as he said it. Was he having second thoughts about the whole thing? Too late to back out now. The Infection was nested within the Child of Void. No turning back. No regrets. Shaking through another hot spasm, the Hollow Knight mustered up the strength to straighten up and dutifully walk off into the depths of the Black Temple, switching the roles with their father who was now following them. The Vessel didn't want this to end that way. End in an eternity of suffering with no one but a Goddess to keep them company in the stillness of the Egg. But they had to do this. They were born for this. Even though they were scared. This here makes one tremble. Heart and breath hasten, and this awful lump grows in one's throat as the stomach twists unpleasantly.

The memories of their early years passed through their mind. When they were barely a few years old but already wielding a nail rather skillfully and training with the Fierce Drrya, while their father watched from afar with a ghost of a smile on his face. He was proud. Proud of his son. And right now, the very same son was about to make him proud this one final time.

Stepping into the large, circular chamber, the Hollow Knight took in their surroundings. So this was their new home then.. just as dull and bleak as the entire Crossroads. Why would it be any different? They weren't to indulge in luxuries here. They were to keep the plague at bay. And that's exactly what they are going to do. At long last, the Pure Vessel stood where it was intended to ever since their nubby paw pierced through the blackened shell of their egg. Looking at their appendage now, it was far from nubby. Long, slender fingers ending in short but still rather sharp claws they never used in favor of the long nail that now rested on their back. One they unsheathed and with one firm strike stabbed it into the floor where it would remain as long as their duty held and took their place in the middle of the smallest stone circles that the floor was made out of. In an instant, the entire temple started to tremble, twisting and churning as reinforced chains of pale ore shot out from the far ceiling, with metallic clanking surrounding the Hollow Knight, wrapping around their body like vines, tangling them in the merciless grasp. Scared again.. Out of the corner of their eye, the Hollow Knight saw their father, finally looking at them and while he showed no guilt, no dismay over shackling his only child, his hands were fiddling with the hem of his robes. A nervous habit. Then, just like that, the floor was gone from underneath the Vessel's feet as they were lifted up into the air. Seconds later a white Seal of Binding flashed over their entire form, as well as on the chains holding them in place and the process of Sealing was complete.

The Hollow Knight tested the chains around their body. Seem sturdy enough… Pale ore is no ordinary material after all. At a quiet sigh coming from the King, they turned to look at him. And he… he was preparing to leave the chamber behind. With his head low, his dignity and regal posture nowhere to be seen as he reluctantly walked towards the archway leading out of the temple. Something in the Vessel's chest twisted unpleasantly as he did. Maybe it was just the Infection? No. It's the sadness.. Look back. Please, look back… If he cares, he will. Just when they brushed the perspective away, the Pale King halted for a short moment to glance over his shoulder at his last surviving child. He did. He cares and he proved it this one last time.

"Goodbye, Hollow Knight.."

He offered and quickly disappeared into the blackness once and for all. The Hollow Knight knew this would be the last time they saw him until the Radiance breathed Her last. Do not feel… They turn away from the doorway and lower their heavy head onto their armored chest with a sigh. The burning pain wasn't as troublesome as it had been minutes ago but present nonetheless. But for Hallownest and their father, they could endure. It still may turn out just fine. They can handle this!

Goodbye, father.

The burning intensified for a beat. Breath in, breath out. It subsided just as quickly. They can handle this…

(Day 1)

The first day is always the most difficult. Hours were passing so obnoxiously long.. one after another, each an eternity in the perfect silence of the Egg. Seconds ticked by in their solitude, making them feel rather strange. As though with each second a small bit of their life was leaving never to return. Perhaps because that’s how it was. Every second spent in the vault was irreversibly lost to them. Every second they could live in the Palace again, beside the Five Knights. Beside their-... No. They firmly shook their head, immediately regretting their decision due to the nausea settling in their stomach. They were never supposed to live. They were just a vessel. A tool. No thoughts, no desires. No bonds with the world they left behind. Liar.

After the first twenty-four hours of vigil, the Hollow Knight started to hear something. A steady, rhythmic thumping seemingly without any clear source. They weren't easily frightened but this unidentified sound was driving them crazy. Where was it coming from? Was this Her attempt to agitate them and torment them? As though the steady fire inside was too little.. Strangely enough, the Radiance seemed rather… passive. She retreated into the farthest reaches of their supposedly empty mind like a grumpy child who'd been grounded by her parents for mischief. Unfortunately, that was most likely not the case. They could bet their head that She was already planning something. Thinking how to get under their skin, to snap them. But was this sound one of Her tricks?

After a couple more seconds, they realised that it's not. In the silence so thick that it would seem loud, Hollow Knight's senses were gradually sharpening, catching the smallest disturbances. And this rhythmic sound was one of them.

Ba-dum.

Ba-dum..

Ba-dum…

Their heart of Void thrummed calmly. To be honest, the Vessel was relieved. Relief.. It comes when something bad doesn't happen or ends. No tricks so far. Only their heart. Nothing else. For now the Infection seemed awfully docile. Almost nonexistent. The only sign of its presence was the continual flame swirling around in their body and occasional lights dancing in the periphery of their vision. As painful as it is, the longer it stays that way, the better.

(Day 15)

Just like they suspected, after the first day it became easier. The time seemed to pass faster than it initially did. Even if the silence broken only by their heartbeat was growing maddening. The Hollow Knight kept themself sane by counting seconds, minutes and hours. If their count was without a fault, it's been over two weeks already. Fifteen days, to be exact. Fifteen days in solitude. No voice to speak to them, no familiar face to look at. They missed everyone… Longing. When one desperately wants to see a person or a place again...

Their mother. Lovely, pale Root with sapphire blue eyes, humming softly to herself. Gentle and loving. The Five Knights. Fierce and stern Drrya, their teacher. Surprisingly cheerful and witty Hegemol, clad in a massive set of armor, wielding a mace they found so enormous when they were little. Morose and serious Ze'mer, an outsider, speaking with a funny accent, a silverfish lady with nigh unmatched skills of swordsmanship. Caring and kind Isma, a responsible woman with love for plants. And of course Ogrim. A loyal and tough warrior with a warm and soft inside of a good friend. With the only smell that accompanied them being the sweet, awful smell of sickness, the Vessel realised they were actually missing the distinctive odor of the dung beetle. As odd as it may sound, they would take that stench over the scent of Infection any time now..

And of course, there was their father. The one who's light led them out of the Abyss, the one who practically raised them. The one who's presence made them… happy? One's heart warms up, a smile tries to pull at one's face... Do not feel. The reminded themself when heat began to grow stronger, focusing deeply to make the Void push the unpleasant sensation down. Do not think. It was even more difficult to make the thoughts cease now. There was a whole eternity for them to muse about various things. And with each thought the disease seemed to gain in strength before they inevitably pushed its alluring brightness aside. It's not that bad yet.. They can still do this.

(Day 27)

Hollow Knight, is it? I wonder if the Worm knew how "hollow" you truly are, voidling.

The taunting call reverberating through their pale shell interrupted the Vessel in counting seconds of the slowly passing twenty-seventh day of containment. This voice… soft, strong, yet laced with so much hatred that it seemed to drip from the lips which spoke it like venom. It wasn't there before. She finally found the audacity to try and talk to the Vessel. They shifted uncomfortably in their shackles but didn't react to the taunt. They knew they couldn't. They merely kept counting.

My, so quiet and obedient! A good, little pet dancing to the Worm's tune.

Shuddering, the Hollow Knight chased the dots of orange away from their sight. To distract themself from the Goddess, they peered out at now thriving Hallownest, its citizens carelessly trotting down the streets of the City of Tears, the endless downpour never bothering them in the slightest. They missed the sensation of rain trickling down their shell.. It was relieving to see how much value their duty holds. Wandering across the alleys, the Hollow Knight noticed something that wasn't there before. In the middle of the central plaza was a fountain. It stood there ever since they remembered but this time a large statue crowned it. Surrounded by three smaller figures, it was them. Stoic and silent, head bowed in a loyal gesture, hands on the hilt of their nail in front of them. A cold piece of stone, a reminder of what they did for everybody.

Memorial to the Hollow Knight

In the Black Vault far above. Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal.

Of course their father would raise a monument to their deed. A faint memory of them posing for such a statue passes through their feverish mind. It was still somewhat surprising it was there as the Hollow Knight never thought that they deserved such recognition. After all, what were they but a weapon? Surprised. Something one was not expecting to happen actually happens.. Still, many bugs stopped beside the statue, sometimes praying, sometimes saying their thanks, sometimes even offering small gifts. And sometimes merely staring in wonderment and gratitude, each of them baffling the Hollow Knight greatly. Confused. This one... They had no idea how to define this emotion. It simply happened every time they couldn't understand something and that was it.

Look at them.. They adore you. I wonder what they would say if they found out you're nothing but a fraud.

No reaction. They are the Pure Vessel. Her tricks won't work on them. By all means, the Hollow Knight was self-distanced enough to ignore any and all insults directed straight at their person. Because, as their father wanted, they refused to be a person. A tool feels no shame, no anger, no outrage in the face of even the most foul profanities. And so they didn't. The Radiance hummed to herself when they remained cold and indifferent.

You are a strong one, I'll give you that. But it won't be long. Soon, you will be mine.

A harsh push against their mind was not enough. Although a faint orange light came to be in the Hollow Knight's eye sockets, it was soon viciously assaulted by tendrils of Void and brutally extinguished. Suppressing a shiver caused by a stab of pain in their thorax, the Hollow Knight bowed their head, bracing themself for whatever the Goddess of Dreams has in store for them. They will not fail Hallownest. They were ready.

(Day 79)

Breaking the Hollow Knight wasn't as easy as the Radiance suspected at first. She kept on trying, attacking their pride (of which they had none), their self esteem (also barely noticeable), the sole purpose of their existence itself. It took Her around eighty days to figure out that none of this was working and it left Her delightfully frustrated. Counting seconds was becoming more and more difficult however. Her constant activity made it harder to keep track and focus on anything else than pushing back against Her.

More and more often, the Hollow Knight saw the lights in their vision, swimming around the chamber and trying to devour their eyesight as they stubbornly kept stifling the plague down. The pain was getting stronger day by day.. How much longer can they keep it at bay? You are the Hollow Knight. The words of the Pale King came to them. Yes. Yes, they are. They have to be. The Radiance has yet to draw an answer from them. Nothing She did thus far made them reply to anything She said. If they did, it would be game over. They cannot fail.. They cannot… And to make sure She won't take control over them that easily, the Hollow Knight avoided sleep to the best of their ability. Falling into the misleadingly comforting embrace of even a short slumber would mean yielding their consciousness into the Realm of Dreams where they would be at their most vulnerable. Almost eighty days without sleep… Even though as a Void born child of two Higher Beings the Hollow Knight didn't find the sleep mandatory for survival, the lack of proper rest and the wrestling for control with the enraged moth Goddess as well as the burning pain have taken their toll on them. How much longer…?

The Pale King would surely find another solution. Soon enough! He wouldn't leave them to rot in this place. He wouldn't.. Would he? Just to make sure, they projected their vision towards the White Palace and towards their father's workshop which was in utter disarray. Pieces of white armor were everywhere as well as stains of liquid Void and unfinished Wingsmoulds resting lifeless on many shelves. It is not surprising to find their creator there, slumped against his desk out cold. Before, every time he worked himself to the point of collapse, the White Lady would come for him, scoop him up in her branches and gently carry him back to their shared bed. But now there was no one for him to retrieve him from his never-ending work. The Hollow Knight tries their best to choke down the feeling of pity when not even a single retainer comes to the workshop if only to place a blanket around the King's shoulders. They were forbidden from entering this place… Pity. This one's tricky. It feels almost like sadness but not quite. It's... sadness directed at someone else who is in difficult situation or a sorry state.

Oh? Could it be that you love him?

A pang of cold, unexpected fear dropped into the depths of their burning stomach once the Vessel realises their grave mistake. They left themselves open before Her. Their minds became one and the same from the moment She was trapped within their body. And they foolishly let themselves be read like a book. A mist of orange fully cloaked their eyes as the suffocating heat rose up to their throat. Now their thoughts (Do not think!) and all their secrets were Hers.

How unusual… and how fortunate for me!

(Day 156...?)

What is this place? The Hollow Knight silently wonders as they look out at a sea of golden clouds gently illuminated by the sun in the distance. They didn't remember a place such as this in the entire Hallownest and they'd seen much of it during their imprisonment and before. All around them is just a sea of cotton like clouds covering everything in sight aside from the amber sky and the aforementioned sun. Perhaps they're on some tall mountain peak in Howling Cliffs during particularly good weather? It would add up.. Only…

Something felt off.

Especially when the Hollow Knight looked down at themself. Their armor shone in the light while their black chitin seemed to consume the brightness instead of reflecting it. Just as it always has been. But it doesn't mean it sits right with them. While peering out at Hallownest, they weren't able to do that. Or even move, so to speak. Chains and all. And another thing. They don't remember attempting to peer out in the first place. All of the sudden they are horrifyingly aware that the rays of the sun, seemingly harmless and soft felt like boiling acid on their Void body. Looking up in mounting panic, they realised that the sun was not actually a sun as the orb of light unfolded, revealing two magnificent wings reaching out as if to embrace the skies-

It was all they needed to jerk back into consciousness with a jolt. The bright orange was once again in their vision, stronger than ever, the scorching heat threatening with asphyxiation. The Hollow Knight attempted to take a deep breath… but the sound they unintentionally produced made them freeze in their bindings. Ever since they hatched in the deepest pit of the Abyss, they were unable to make any sort of sound aside from quietly inhaling and exhaling, even if they were panting from exhaustion after the climb. Now however… Every struggling breath they took came out as a disturbing, wet and gurgling wheeze as though something was clogging up their lungs and hoarse throat. Every breath was loud and unsettling and they felt themself shaking uncontrollably.

They'd fallen asleep. Fool, fool, fool! Exposed themself to the Radiance directly. Thank Wyrm, they managed to wake up at all. But still, the damage was done, the orange film coated their vision and the hot pain seemed to throb just underneath their black chitin, waiting to emerge at any second. The Hollow Knight shifted and tried to pull their legs up but any movement seemed to upset the Infection even further, causing it to thrum louder and more painfully through their flesh.

Looking down at their body was the catalyst. Never before have they thought their Void that served as blood could run even colder but this short glance was all it took to prove them wrong. Uneven buds of developing pustules were forming on their chest and abdomen, pulsing alongside their pounding heart, the orange color slowly surfacing beneath the clear black. Their right shoulder also seemed to be suffering the same fate. The Hollow Knight abruptly becomes dreadfully aware of the sweet taste of rot in the back of their gullet, so sickly nauseating that it makes them retch. In just a few ragged heaves they expel a gout of pure Infection that dribbles down their mouth and splatters across the floor of their chamber. No.. no it cannot end like this…

It wouldn't be so painful if you stopped resisting, you know..

Focus, Vessel. Focus!

Do not think.

Do not speak.

Do not hope…

Do not… feel!

And focus they do. Struggling to even out their breathing, coughing a couple more times to clear their respiratory system of the radiant pus, the Hollow Knight reaches into their core, to the purest Void that remains within and fights the Infection off as best as they can. The Radiance present in their head doesn't hide annoyance when they manage to make the glowing cysts recede back into their shivering body, leaving almost no trace suggesting they were there in the first place. The orange light in their eyes flickers out of existence, swallowed by the Void. The Hollow Knight finally stops desperately clutching at the cloth of their cape with their claws but don't let themself relax fully even as the Radiance admits Her temporary defeat and moves out from the forefront of their mind to the back. Droplets of sweat rolled down their mask alongside a couple of midnight black tears emerging from their eye sockets. The orange in their vision left only to be replaced by darkness that took their hearing and made them feel sick in the stomach again.

The Hollow Knight nearly passes out from the effort of reigning in the Infection but they push through the swimming darkness and fight for each raspy breath. They cannot fall asleep again. If they do, they are done for. Scratch that, Hallownest is done for! They need to stay sharp, stay strong! They wouldn't fail their father. The more they struggled, the more painful the whole ordeal seemed to be. Visions of the suffering's end were tempting but they knew they couldn't stop resisting. They won't let Her win. Focus. They need to focus. Just like many times before, the Vessel returns to counting. Day one hundred and fifty… six. Eight hours (?), thirty-three minutes and nine… teen seconds?

How long have they been asleep? Too long, is the answer. One hundred fifty-six days...- or was it already fifty-seven? What time of day was it in the moment of their imprisonment? It was morning. No, no it wasn't… Evening. But late or early evening? One hundred fifty… Wait, no. Sixty-five? Sev… seventy-five? They can't tell anymore. It was just… long. So much for that idea.. But if it has been so long already.. maybe their father will come back for them any day now? Please… Do not hope… Swallowing thickly only to hack out another glob of sticky pus, the Hollow Knight looks up, letting the black tears perfectly intertwined with orange drip down their chin. How much longer…?

(Day one… two hundred…? Maybe three…)

Release me, voidling.

Never.

Bring the pain to an end. Destroy the Pale Usurper.

No…

You cannot contain me forever.

I will as long as I can..

Keeping the maddening haze of the Infection at bay was slowly but surely becoming more and more difficult. A week or so ago the Hollow Knight lost feeling in their right arm, partially because of the chain and partially because of the swelling of cysts pressing against the metal. Before, the chains fit neatly without too much discomfort aside from the fact that they prevented almost all movement. Pustules on their thorax reemerged soon after those on their shoulder, throbbing with searing pain. A faint hue of orange smoke was crawling around the chamber floor like carrion worms. The Radiance was growing restless, desperately trying to break the Vessel, searching through their memories they tried so hard to keep hidden, looking for ways to make it easier for Her. She shamelessly filled them with doubt, attacking the feelings towards their father which shouldn't exist in the first place. And unable to ignore it any longer, the Hollow Knight made a terrible mistake and replied with their thoughts.

He abandoned you. The Worm isn't coming back.

No. You're wrong.

Don't you see what he's done? Have you forgotten what lies in the Abyss beneath this kingdom?

Corpses. Mountains of corpses of their newly hatched siblings who never got a chance to live. Majority of them died within eggs, stillborn. No cost too great. Their father once told them. Could it… could it be that he was wrong? Impossible! She's just toying with them. Believe and trust nothing.

I have not. Their sacrifice was needed..

But to what end?

What was the worst, the Goddess changed Her tactics. She no longer hissed with hatred and anger and used brute force of Her will. Instead, Her voice grew softer. More gentle. Alluring and carrying a promise of peace and release from the unending nightmare. Almost motherly.. They knew it to be only an illusion concealing the cruel deity beneath.

For Hallownest.

Child, he has you so fooled. He fears me and cares not about this world. He cares not about you. Think about it…

With a shudder, the Hollow Knight feels Her presence recede slightly but never fully leaving. Do not think. Do not listen to Her. They shift in their bindings when their head begins to spin, calling them into a sweet embrace of blessed unconsciousness but they hold fast. And that's when they hear something hit the floor with a wet, sickening "thwack!". This sound makes a spike of fear jolt down their throat mostly occupied by the Infection. What was that? There's nothing here with them that could make this sound. Did they imagine it? Looking around for the cause of the strange noise, the Hollow Knight glances towards the source. The floor below them. And they freeze, feeling their heart drop to their heels.

The Vessel was a warrior at heart. They were used to grisly sights and gore. Had seen plenty of it too. But this was just too much. Right there, like a silent taunt lies a black, limp arm. Their arm, they realise when they look to the right where their shoulder abruptly ends with a cluster of Infected tissue. The severed appendage too was coated in the orange goop in the place where it detached from the Knight's body. The disease had eaten through their flesh until their arm had nothing more to cling to and after the slightest movement just… fell off. They draw a wheezing breath when the fingers twitch once in a last reflex before the entire arm dissolves into a puddle of Void which soon disappears without a trace.

Wyrms above, they were rotting. Decomposing alive. Melting like a faulty Kingsmould. At this point, death would've been a blessing. But if they had to die, they'd rather go out the proper way! Defeated, felled in combat like a knight they are. Not falling apart, piece by piece until… Before, they thought they knew fear. What they felt now however, was a whole new dimension. An excruciating sob wracked their body as Infected tears fell from their eyes and where the droplets met the floor, pulsing, orange veins of Infection sprouted like vines from seeds and crawled their way around the entire chamber, developing large cysts but thankfully not straying out through the archway. Still, the Hollow Knight looked up at the not so distant ceiling as more tears fell. They cannot do this anymore.

Father… please… take me home.

Their head drooped in defeat as their body trembled both with pain and fear. It's only a matter of time before the Infection breaks free and sets out to devour Hallownest. And the fault was on them. Because they weren't hollow. They were just another failure created by the Pale King. A broken vessel that failed to fulfill its purpose. Soon, the dawn shall break. And it would be their fault.

…Help me…

(Another day of torment…)

Droplets as black as sin were falling to the floor freely where the Hollow Knight crumbled to their knees, shaking like a leaf on a gale under the dreaded golden light. Void was seeping out from a wound inflicted by a spectral nail stuck above their hip. They can't, they can't do this.. They tried to fight her in the Dream, doing their best to avoid summoned blades, rays of light and orbs of magic but to no avail. She had won. Failed. Worthless. Flawed. Shattered.. This was their last chance to fend off the Infection festering inside of them. And after a torturous fight they’d failed. They had broken their promise to their father. When did they make it? Can't say for certain. It was so.. so long ago. How many days before have they lost count of the days of containment? Too many.. Far too many. Was the Radiance right? Has their father truly discarded them like a broken tool? He wouldn't… he just needs more time. But they don't have that time! They will break any moment now.

Like on a cue, a warm, soft wing brushed against their face, making the Hollow Knight look up into a pair of luminous, golden eyes staring at them from behind the ruff of dense, cream-colored fur that seemed to glow. For just a moment they had to lift their only arm to shield their eyes from bright luminosity. No wonder the old tribe of moths called their deity "the Radiance". They gawked at Her, the Goddess who caused them so much pain, who wished to destroy Hallownest out of spite against the Pale King. Was this hatred justified? They cannot tell. But now it doesn't matter. What does matter is that She is hovering before them, radiant and mesmerizing. Once their sight adjusts, the Hollow Knight finds it impossible to look away. Instead they stare like hypnotized. With a flick of Her wing She extracts the blade from their wound, making them stiffen in pain and fall back down. Still, they watch Her without blinking and weakly pull themself to their feet to shuffle closer in this trance. Where was this strange, soothing music coming from? Can She hear it too or has their sanity finally left them for good?

The Pale Wyrm took my children away from me. I only wish to have them back.

Even in a haze of feverish delirium, the Hollow Knight struggled to reject Her words. Lying wretch, if She wanted her children back, She wouldn't be hurting them. But.. She was so… beautiful, so damn convincing in Her deception! No… they can't.. She can't be...

Just like you wish you hadn't abandoned your twin..

All gears in their brain ground to a sudden halt. Twin.. Their chin trembles. The Radiance… She dug through them into their most guarded and most painful memory they ever carried. As though there has been a spell cast on them, the Hollow Knight feels their vision fade and travel back in time to this very moment. To the metal platform in the Abyss and a tiny figure of their twin struggling to pull themself up after the gruelling ascend. Their gazes met for the whole three seconds, one hopeful and begging the other uncaring and empty. And in this short while the Hollow Knight felt. For the first time in their short life. Felt the urge to turn back. To come with rescue to their exhausted sibling. But the pale light of the King, their father, was quickly heading out of this accursed place and with a twinge of an unknown feeling they later learned to recognise as guilt (one wishes to not have done something one has done..), the Pure Vessel turned away and trailed after the Wyrm who soon shut the doors to the Abyss with a bone rattling crash, sealing it forever. The imaginary sound of their twin's shell shattering on the ground and the dread-inducing wails of their Shade haunted the Hollow Knight for years to come. This has been one of those instances when the Hollow Knight was glad they have no voice and they couldn't scream in their sleep. They wished they could turn back time. That they returned and helped the struggling child onto the platform, even if it would cost them everything they gained later. It felt… wrong. They left the sibling they shared their egg with, the one who spent the time before their hatching snuggled against the Hollow Knight and embracing them protectively. This one thought stalked them through their entire life. You let them die.

Set me free, Vessel. I will ease this pain. And when I claim what's mine, it shall be my turn to release you and allow you to fade into the darkness you were born from. And then you will reunite with your lost siblings…

A violent shiver was all the answer the Hollow Knight had for Her. No voice to cry suffering. A thinking mind.. A strong will to break.. They swallowed in agitation, still unable to take their eyes off the Goddess.

Do not fight anymore..

Do not think.

Do not speak.

Do not hope..

Do not…

No more.. They were so tired…They can't keep this up. The cold, collected exterior of the legendary Pure Vessel cracks apart. She's too strong… Forgive me, father… With a sigh, the Vessel shuts their eyes as the Radiance pulls them even closer into an embrace and after Wyrm knows how long, they give up. I tried.. I really did... With the tips of her wings, the Radiance cups their cheeks and presses her forehead to their own. In the deep black eyes appear small pinpricks of orange, like pupils, slowly expanding to replace shadow with light. Sometimes trying is not good enough... They could imagine their father's voice saying that.. and he'd be right. As always... The pain that was tearing them to pieces from the inside for ages started to subside, their whole body seemed to be pulsating with heat. Just make it stop…

In the depths of the Black Egg Temple, the limp body of the Sealed Vessel dangles suspended above the ground as it had for many long years ever since the time seemed to come to a stop. No movement, not a sound as they keep their stoic vigil over the Old Light. No mind to think. No will to break. No voice to cry suffering. The Hollow Knight born of God and Void to take away the blinding light plaguing the dreams of Hallownest. All of this is a one, cruel lie. After countless years of imprisonment and service to the Pale Monarch their willpower spectacularly shatters to pieces. Orange pustules erupt from their torso as the sockets in their mask flare up with the same sickly glow, the voice in their head mingling with their own distorted thoughts.

Kill… Crush Contain him Her.. Destroy Seal away the false king the Old Light.

The searing light behind their eyes is all they see as with a horrid crunch the shell above their right eye socket gives out. A crack forms all the way towards the base of their horn as they draw a disturbingly garbled breath. No longer in control of their own body, they strain against the reinforced shackles strengthened by Seals of Binding like a feral animal to the point when the chains and armor begin to dig into their chitin painfully. Faced with failure, the Hollow Knight wheezes again, tilts their large head back gathering all their strength, feeling the years of suffering pressing onto them. Opens their mouth…

No mind the Pale King Usurper had created. Only strength.

And s c r e a m s.

…

Nothing was ever the same since that terrible, terrible day. The Infection began to spread once again, taking minds of all bugs it touched. The Hollow Knight remained trapped in the Black Vault in chains, a snarling, panting beast thirsting for blood and revenge. But in moments when their own self rears its head through the cloak of orange, even if barely for a glimpse, they are overcome with unimaginable pain forcing them back into submission. Fighting Her felt like having their lungs torn clean out. They beg death to claim them for their failure and their weakness. Hallownest was quickly dying and all they could do was watch as the thriving kingdom was brought to ruin. Because of them. Because they weren't pure like they were intended to. Because they let the Radiance take over.

However, even those short moments of clarity left them when one day an odd sensation rippled through their entire being. Something left them. Something they didn't even know was there until they lost it. A presence, cold and comforting, a stark contrast to the blinding brightness of the Radiance. For a while they weren't sure what it was until a grim realisation eventually dawned on them when they searched for the White Palace only to find... nothing. Only emptiness behind a crumbling gate where it once stood tall and majestic. It was the Pale King. It was his presence they felt. And this presence was suddenly snuffed out like a candlelight. Just like that. The Wyrm was gone. His light faded and left Hallownest and its inhabitants behind. How…? The entire Palace, their home along with all memories vanished.. What happened? Could he be… dead…? The mere thought caused them to halt their struggling breath. Not a single part of their being could come to terms with what just happened once they understood. No... No, it’s impossible, it can’t be true!

No amount of denial would change the reality. The Pale King is gone along with the whole court. Everything around ceased, even the earth itself seemed to pause at the disappearance of the Wyrm. Only the brightness of Her domain was surrounding the Hollow Knight as they stared forward into nothingness in disbelief. Half of their shredded mind was clouded by a spectre of a distant memory. Two figures. One bright as the moon itself, the Pale King in all his glory. The other, much shorter, Void incarnate. A small Vessel with two horns crowning its head. The Hollow Knight cannot hear what the Pale King was saying, it was too long ago and their memory seemed to be failing them as of late. All they did remember from that moment, a day or so after their arrival to the White Palace, was exacly what played out before their eyes. The Wyrm absent mindedly rested his hand on the Vessel’s back as he kept talking. A slight weight seemed to fall in the very same place between shoulder blades of the Hollow Knight but no hand was there to offer comfort. From a very far away, they heard the Pale King’s voice, barely a faint echo.

“Until the end of time, they shall always remember what you’ve done for them. As will I...”

In seconds the vision of their past became undone before them, leaving them alone and at the mercy (or its lack thereof) of the Dream Goddess. Their already fragile heart broke thousand times over, the last shreds of their hope faded away and globules of orange pus rolled down their face instead of inky Void tears dripping onto their armor, tarnished by the passage of time. He said he would remember.. Always...

Father… why…?

When the Radiance told them the Pale King abandoned them, they didn't believe Her. They found it inconceivable. He wouldn't leave them on purpose.. Something horrible must've happened. He… he cared… He-… Rearing back, the Hollow Knight once again cried out in dismay with the borrowed voice of the plague.

Why have you… forsaken me…?

Time has lost its meaning that day. Seconds slipped past the shattered Vessel. Weeks passed without notice and the disease raged across the faded land. How long has it been since the departure of the Pale Monarch…? A month, a year… or maybe a decade? Hard to say. The Hollow Knight spent it in a numb haze, unable to wrestle the control the Radiance had over their body, because they simply.. had no will to do so anymore. All they could do on their own was look around the dark chamber but they had no wish to do so either. Instead, they stared at a wall with blank eyes. No sense. No hope. No death. No relief.. Only pain and sorrow. Burning wrath of the Dream Goddess. She lied. The Wyrm has disappeared, possibly perished in some tragedy that brought down the entire White Palace.. If he was gone, where was the release She promised? No, it was no longer about the King. She just wanted the end of Hallownest for the sake of vengeance alone.. This was not a motherly longing for lost children. It was a punishment. How could they have been so foolish…?

No longer did the Hollow Knight find strength to resist. It left them with their beloved father. Did he leave because of their failure…? Or was he truly gone? No longer did the Hollow Knight find the will to look out at their old home. They couldn't muster up the courage to gaze upon the land they failed to protect. But perhaps if they had seen what became of the eternal kingdom, their heart would fully break and maybe the sorrow alone would grant them the peace they begged for for so long now. All they could see was the bright, scorching light. Nothing more, nothing less… Why won't She let them go? A dark, not entirely unwelcome thought crept into their head. If only they could reach their nail.. all it would take was a quick stab through the heart. It rested below them where they had left it years ago, now tarnished and covered in dust, just out of reach. Even if they could grab it though, their only arm remained in chains, immobilized.. Was this a punishment for thinking they can match the strength of the Radiance? If so… they very well deserved it. Gurgling up a pathetic sound, the once great Hollow Knight trembled.

Father… I failed you... I'm sorry…

They thought as though this apology would mean anything or be heard by anyone aside from Her. And She didn't care. But they needed to, wanted to say it. If only they could… Maybe he would hear them then and mercifully grant his child their final, desperate wish.

… please, let me die…

--------------------------------------------------

There is the first of two chapters. Hope it's decent, I have NO idea how to portray the Hollow Knight. I'm abysmal XD

I know I said it's gonna be a short fic. People who have been following me for a while probably know me well for being a liar but god DAMN. I got a bit carried away and the other chapter isn't going to be shorter :O

#hollow knight #hk the hollow knight #hk pure vessel #hk sealed vessel #hk pale king #the pale king #hk the radiance #infection #I don't see the PK as a complete ass #just so you know #but still shame on him for never hugging THK

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iceshard1011 · 3 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Characters: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders Additional Tags: Wings, Tentacles, Self-Worth Issues, Platonic Cuddling, Scars, Miscommunication, kind of, because these dumb dumbs are determined Not To Talk About It, Mild Language, remus being soft??, Family Bonding, i mean what do you expect at this point, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, look this site is has been starved of soft remus and bonding creativitwins, that needs to be fixed, i will not rest until i have a sufficient number of happy creativitwins interactions in my life, No Romance, :). Summary:

Roman reached over and lifted it up, eyeing the ugly scar. “What happened here?”

Remus didn’t reply for a moment before he pulled away, tucking the tentacle out of sight. “Nothing much.”

Oh, and wasn’t that a red flag if Roman had ever seen one?

~~~

The wedding affected everyone.

1k word fic under the cut :)

Roman’s wings were supposed to be red. A fiery red, too, with shades ranging from so pale it bordered on pink to so dark around the edges they were almost black-rimmed. The feathers on the inside were a white so pure it was blinding when catching sunlight. They were stunning and magnificent and beautiful.

Currently, the red was rusted and washed out. They looked like a bad dyeing attempt. The insides were dirtied and grey-brown tinged. Currently, they didn’t look majestic. Currently, they looked exactly how Roman felt: Pathetic.

The pair of extra appendages sprouting from the prince’s back only manifested in the closed confines of his bedroom or the separate world of the Imagination. They were always present, but they became heavy and solid and real at his back the moment his door shut. No one knew about them.

Except Remus, of course, given he was in the same position with those slimy, horrid tentacles of his. The pair had grown up with these features; it was evident that their young years spent play-fighting would leave their connected rooms scattered with slime and feathers. Unfortunately, though a wall now separated their rooms at this day and age, Roman couldn’t seem to get the connecting door to disappear, no matter how many times Remus knocked it down.

However, today wasn’t an ‘ignore Remus’ day. It wasn’t even a ‘put up with Remus through eye rolls and inward groans’ day.

Another loose feather was added to the growing pile beside him on the floor.

“You’re molting an awful lot,” Remus remarked at Roman’s back, his concentration on a particularly stubborn section of Roman’s right wing and a rebellious cluster of feathers that weren’t listening to his effort to straighten them.

“I’m stressed,” Roman admitted, plucking a baby feather from the inside of his left wing.

“This isn’t stress molting,” Remus said. “Stress makes your feathers all flaky and dry. This is different.”

Roman sighed and gave up on his wing, resting his head in his hands. “Can’t we just talk about something normal?”

“This is perfectly normal!” Remus protested. A scratch through the feathers, down the side of his wing made Roman shudder. “I mean, the standards are you having wings, so…”

Roman didn’t reply. Remus continued to work in silence. He didn’t have his tentacles manifested today. They tended to get restless and search for things to do when Remus was absent minded, and the pair had come to find that was both distracting and mess-making, especially with neat piles of feathers taking up residence on the carpet.

“Is it about last week?” Remus asked.

“It’s always about last week,” Roman grumbled. Remus bit the inside of his cheek in thought, which Roman couldn’t see, and continued to sift through his brother’s feathers.

“You’re going to have to do something about it sooner or later,” Remus said with a shrug. “Doesn’t have to be good. You could put spiders in Patton’s bed, or cut the power to the heating elements in Janus’ room. I did that one once. It was pretty funny; took him thirty minutes of shivering and muttering on his rock to realise nothing was happening. I recorded it.”

Roman didn’t reply.

“Of course,” continued Remus, “then he confiscated all my weapons and didn’t let me poison the coffee, so it wasn’t entirely worth it.”

Roman sighed quietly. He ran a hand through the feathers of the inside of his wing, fingering the tufts closest to his body. They should be as soft as a freshly groomed chinchilla’s fur, but they felt stiff and unhealthy.

“They’re dying,” he said as if they were houseplants not getting enough sun, but it made sense to him. He pulled back and gripped his arms while he glared at the floor. “I can’t even take care of these properly.”

He felt Remus’ gaze burning the back of his neck but ignored his brother. Chances were that he would get bored and leave. Roman would probably have a breakdown, then, but at least there wouldn’t be any witnesses.

Remus shuffled behind him, and a pair of arms wrapped around his waist. Except arms were supposedly not wet and slimy with suction cups on the inside. Roman opened his mouth to ask what Remus was doing, but then his brother was leaning over his shoulder and pointing to a bleached scatter of spots staining the tentacle curled around Roman’s ankle.

“That’s from running into a thorn bush in the Imagination,” Remus said, then gestured to another spot on a separate appendage. Roman blinked at the pale scar running upwards along the moist skin. “That’s from when Logan yelled at me when we were teenagers after I burned all his projects for a prank.”

“That was a dumb move,” Roman told him. Remus grinned.

“This one over here is from when I touched a curling iron to see how it would feel, and then got yelled at by Janus for it,” he said, and Roman wasn’t sure whether to sigh or laugh. “That’s why it’s a weird shape.”

“It does look odd,” Roman admitted. Remus bobbed his head against Roman’s shoulder in agreement. Roman eyed his brother’s wiggling tentacles, several of them finding ways to wrap around his legs, one even reaching up to curl over his wrist. He zeroed in on one, though, not itching towards him and instead twitching along the carpet. Its end looked to be chopped off, leaving a blunt stump awkwardly half-heartedly navigating its path.

Roman reached over and lifted it up, eyeing the ugly scar. “What happened here?”

Remus didn’t reply for a moment before he pulled away, tucking the tentacle out of sight. “Nothing much.”

Oh, and wasn’t that a red flag if Roman had ever seen one?

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Roman asked.

Remus shrugged. “Not anymore. It did when it first happened.”

Roman’s reply was a hum. Remus began to fidget with a cluster of feathers at the edge of Roman’s wing. Roman allowed him.

“What was it?” he asked after a long silence. Remus seemed caught off guard, but then he huffed.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

Roman frowned. What did that mean? He tilted his head over his shoulder to watch Remus begin to gnaw on the side of his collar while he scratched at Roman’s wing.

“You can tell me anyway,” Roman offered softly. Remus shrugged again. Roman leaned backwards and patted the tentacles around his waist comfortingly. Remus didn’t return the affection, but he didn’t pull away. Roman decided it was good enough.

“Sorry,” Remus murmured, but Roman wasn’t sure why.

“You know that you can always come to me when your tentacles are hurt,” Roman murmured, tracing a long scar trailing along one of the slimy green arms.

“Why don’t you come to me when you molt?” Remus asked. Roman opened his mouth, about to retort, but Remus cut in, “Without having to make me chase after you?” Roman closed his mouth. He sheepishly fiddled with the end of one of Remus’ arms as it curled through his fingers.

“My turn to apologise?” he asked. Remus shrugged. The quiet room suddenly felt oppressing and uncomfortable. It was much different compared to the atmosphere a few minutes ago, when Roman’s wings had first begun to be preened. He didn’t like it very much.

“It kind of sucks.” Remus’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “Sometimes I don’t even have to be around to get the scars.”

Roman swallowed. He wondered if he already knew what had mangled Remus’ tentacle. “I can try and make them disappear,” he volunteered quietly.

Remus, predictably, looked affronted. “What, the marks? And take away my battle scars? Who the hell do you think you are?”

Roman relented with a chuckle. “Alright.”

The room echoed with a knocking from the bedroom door.

“Dinner’s ready, kiddo,” called Patton’s voice. “If you have time to come down for a little while. Hope to see you there.”

The twins listened to the moral’s sides footsteps shuffle away. The tentacles around Roman’s waist tightened and Remus headbutted his shoulder with his forehead. “Are you going to go down?”

“Are you?” countered Roman.

“He didn’t ask me,” Remus pointed out.

“He might have.” Roman frowned over his shoulder. “You haven’t been in your room.” Remus didn’t seem convinced. Roman didn’t move to stand up.

“You’re not going?” Remus sounded surprised.

Roman shrugged. “My left wing hasn’t been preened yet.”

“You should eat.”

Roman levelled his brother with a skeptical look. “And since when do you care about my health?”

“Since I found you sobbing in the corner of your room with your wings torn to shreds,” Remus snapped. Roman didn’t have an argument. Remus pulled back and stood, brushing off loose feathers. “Come on, you dumb slut.” Roman shot him a glare, but Remus was dutifully, stubbornly, ignoring his gaze. “If I eat, you eat. Deal?”

Roman considered it, then sighed.

“Very well.” He rose to his feet. He flared his wings, shaking himself. He pretended not to see Remus eyeing him cautiously and moved briskly to the door. “But I still need my left wing preened.”

“Don’t be greedy,” Remus snapped, in as much of an agreement as Roman figured he would get. “Maybe I’ll braid all the feathers so tight you have to shave your wings.”

“Stop being foul,” Roman said, holding the door open for his brother. The rude menace didn’t thank him as he darted out.

“You know that’s my whole deal, right?” Remus asked over his shoulder, his tentacles now having vanished. Roman listened to his brother rant as they travelled downstairs and were greeted by the others. The weight of his wings was still at his back as he sat down to eat, even though they were now hidden.

He smiled when Janus made a joke that made Logan fight to hide a smile and Virgil choke on his drink while Patton scolded them, and Remus made everything worse by adding onto the gag.

The food would be fantastic, as Patton’s cooking always was. Even Janus would compliment the meal, and Patton would go giddy with joy as he cleaned up. Janus stopped Remus snorting the crumbs on the table while Logan packed leftovers. Roman helped clean up, and he and Virgil washed the dishes in companionable silence.

He waved goodnight to everyone, the first to retire upstairs, and held the image of his family's smiling faces to his memory. He felt Remus watching him quietly as he left, but he didn’t acknowledge his brother. That was, until he found the gremlin waiting for him in his bedroom, perched on the edge of his bed in the dark with glowing green eyes like the gargoyle he was.

Roman fell asleep that night easily, with newly preened, fiery red wings.

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cheshiresense · 5 years

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Phoenix! Ichigo x Kisuke...? Also I really love your stories thx for getting me into bleach again

Always happy to hear I’ve dragged someone else into this hell with me lmao ;)

1. Kisuke doesn’t find out for the longest time, through Rukia’s almost-execution to the war against Aizen to Ichigo sacrificing part of his soul to the Fullbringers’ invasion, right up until the end of the Quincy war, when he and Yoruichi are about to get blown up because apparently a century of inactivity has done their skills no favours. A hundred years ago, he and Yoruichi would’ve eaten Askin for breakfast, but now they’re about to get killed right alongside their enemy, how pathetic. He spots movement out of the corner of his eye, recognizes Ichigo’s favourite Arrancar, and wishes he could toss the woman right back out because there’s no way she’s going to survive this either.

Far above them, in another dimension entirely, Ichigo dispatches Yhwach once and for all. He’s barely retracted his blade when two of the threads of soulfire he attached to his most precious people twist like they haven’t since his mom died, and in that moment, he doesn’t care who sees - his Zanpakutou disperses into a haze of black shadows, and between one blink and the next, he reaches for the two people at the other end, and lets his soulfire consume him. He jumps, burns himself into existence right in front of a - for once - openly shocked and terribly injured Kisuke, pauses long enough to engulf him, Yoruichi, and Nel in his fire, and then he jumps again, yanking his passengers with him just as something detonates.

Kisuke wakes up at the Fourth, triple-checks his memory to make sure that yes, Ichigo did appear in a burst of flames to save them, and yes, he did turn into an orange bird and cry on him and Yoruichi, which healed the worst of their injuries within seconds. Kisuke passed out sometime after that, but he knows what he saw, and the first thing he does after making sure Unohana isn’t lurking anywhere is to check on Yoruichi before escaping to hunt down Ichigo.

He finds him at the Fifth, bickering with Shinji while a reiatsu-shackled Aizen lounges in a corner of the room. Kisuke assumes it’s because nobody has anywhere to stash the man at the moment what with half the prison destroyed so they’ve dumped him on his old captain in the meantime, and he ignores the knowing smirk Aizen tips at him when he shunpos in, eyes already on Ichigo.

Ichigo looks normal enough (but too pretty in the right light, more beautiful every day and Kisuke really shouldn’t be noticing things like that), no fire or feathers in sight, but when he glances up upon Kisuke’s entrance, his eyes flash like flickering candles for a moment, and Kisuke wants.

He’s always been attracted to things that can surprise him, things he can’t instantly predict, things that draw his eye and make him stare, things that he probably has no right to want in the first place. But Ichigo has always been all of these and more, and Kisuke’s given up on denying the truth, if only to himself. He can admire from a distance, and this new development of Ichigo’s at least gives him something new to explore and an excuse to spend more time with the object of his affections.

2. Ichigo was warned very seriously by his mother about revealing what he is. Their kind are rare enough; their powers would be highly coveted if people knew. So for years, Ichigo hid what he was, never pulls it out even when he’s on the brink of death because even if he dies, it isn’t as if he won’t come back. He warns his sisters of the same, and the only place they ever flame to with their soulfire is the nest their mother inherited from her mother, high up in the mountains where no humans can reach. And then he’s eighteen with two wars and several invasions and more near-deaths than he can count under his belt, and Kisuke knows. He asks, because of course he does, curiosity shining in his eyes in a way that makes him look younger and more genuine than Ichigo’s ever seen him. And Kisuke’s pulled a lot of shit over the years, but he’s also one of the few people Ichigo has never really doubted to have his back when it counted. Besides, Kisuke is probably the last person who would run to the Shinigami about anything out of the ordinary. Ichigo’s definitely more worried about Aizen spilling the beans - if nothing else, he’d seen Ichigo disappear in a burst of flames - but so far, the sort-of-prisoner hasn’t said anything, so Ichigo figures he might as well not borrow trouble.

Instead, he drags Kisuke back to the empty Shouten before flaming both of them to the Kurosaki family nest, which is technically less a nest and more a very large domicile constructed of an interconnected series of tunnels and caves, tucked away in the mountains and cocooned by thick crisscrossing tree branches that prevents the cold from seeping in. They don’t even get further than the entrance hall before Kisuke is already wandering off, enraptured by the foreign interlocking runes shimmering faintly along the arching branches of the doorway. Ichigo rolls his eyes and leaves him to it. It looks like they’ll be here for a while so he might as well find whip up a meal for both of them. He very much doubts Kisuke ate anything before going to find him.

3. After Kisuke finds out, Ichigo gifts him one of his tail feathers, bonds it to the man’s soul so that it’ll automatically revive him in the worst-case scenario, and he tells him to keep it close. Kisuke cradles it in his hands like something infinitely priceless, which it actually is, but he also looks at Ichigo with an expression full of a terribly fragile sort of awe, and Ichigo wonders when the shopkeeper will actually realize what it means for phoenixes to be creatures of empathy and belief and emotion. He’s known for months exactly what Kisuke feels for him, felt the first stirrings of it as far back as the aftermath of the Winter War, felt it from the Shouten in a corner of his mind like the comforting crackle of a fire in the middle of winter all through those seventeen months when he’d considered - more than once - killing himself just to get rid of the ache in his chest, and it had only grown since then. Ichigo knows the warmth of it, like a hot bath or a long hug or a warm meal waiting for him after a long day, and how can he not cherish that when it comes from a man who has always been so selective of those he cares about? So Ichigo knows, and reciprocates, and now he’s just waiting for Kisuke to catch up.

4. The day Kisuke uses the feather Ichigo gives him, it’s to revive Yoruichi, her body still warm from battle and the bloody wound that killed her. Ichigo wasn’t even there for that. He felt the heart-jerking tug of alarm in the soulfire bond he tagged her with, but it was almost immediately alleviated, along with the flash-fire feel of one of his feathers - Kisuke’s feather - disappearing, so he assumed everything turned out alright and continued making his way to the latest bad guy who decided Soul Society needed some good old architectural reconstruction. He only finds out the details afterwards, when Kisuke approaches him looking a little like the world’s ended and a lot like he’s bracing for punishment, and confesses like it’s some kind of sin. And alright, it is technically against every known phoenix custom to use a feather freely gifted by a phoenix on someone else, practically taboo, definitely an insult, and Kisuke would know that because he’s spent more time reading up on phoenixes than Ichigo has, but Ichigo’s never been much for tradition anyway, and it isn’t as if he’d ever expect Kisuke to just let Yoruichi stay dead when he can help it. That would be like Kisuke expecting Ichigo to do nothing if his sisters were in danger. He tells the man as much, with a roll of his eyes, and honestly doesn’t understand why the shopkeeper looks so shocked when Ichigo just gives him another feather.

“It’s fine,” Ichigo shrugs. “If you really need to use them, I don’t mind giving you more. I mean, don’t use them for just anyone, even I’d run out of soul to give-” Kisuke flinches a little, and Ichigo sighs and leans into him, shoulder meeting shoulder, before continuing, “-but if it’s you, I don’t mind.”

Kisuke accepts the feather, still looking at it like he thinks he doesn’t deserve it, but he nods and promises to use them wisely, and then he kisses Ichigo, slow and careful like he thinks Ichigo might disappear if he presses too hard. Ichigo smiles into the kiss and pulls Kisuke in and coaxes him into something less cautious, because he isn’t breakable, and honestly, it’s about time.

5. The first time Ichigo dies, it’s when he takes a blow across the chest meant for Kisuke. The Kidou spell cuts into him, through him, practically bisecting him, and the last thing he hears before the world goes dark is Kisuke screaming his name.

When he opens his eyes again, he’s small and weak and cold. He’s in bird form, with molting feathers and so little reiatsu a determined rabbit could come along and kill him and he wouldn’t be able to do anything. But then there are hands scooping him up, cradling him in familiar bloodstained palms, and his soulfire immediately sparks around him, searing away the liquid, absorbing the lingering essence from it, making that strength his own. Above him, Kisuke murmurs something Ichigo can’t quite make out yet, but he isn’t surprised when several seconds later, he’s lowered into the chest cavity of a a very mutilated corpse, the ribs cracked open, the heart still warm. Ichigo tears into the organ hungrily, ignoring the mess he’s making. He hears Kisuke bustling around, dragging more bodies closer. The man’s read half the Kurosaki library already; he knows what a phoenix needs to recover.

By the time Ichigo is full, he’s regained enough of his senses to realize the absolute massacre that the battlefield’s been reduced to. Kisuke must’ve lost his temper, which is… flattering, actually. When the man picks him up again, Ichigo preens and trills his appreciation. Kisuke doesn’t understand of course, but Ichigo gets a good look at his face this time, and some of the frantic stress lines creasing his features smooth away, although the wild look in his eyes has yet to fade, and the red of Benihime’s power still rings both his pupils.

Later, much later, when Ichigo is human-shaped and human-sized again, Kisuke curls around him in bed, one hand splayed over his back like a brand, like he can keep Ichigo safe just by keeping him here.

“Don’t ever do that again,” Kisuke whispers harshly, but there’s something resigned in his voice, like he already knows the answer.

“I make no promises,” Ichigo replies anyway, but he also adds, “I’ll always come back though. I can promise that.”

Kisuke’s fingers dig briefly into Ichigo’s back before relaxing again, and then pulling him even closer. “I’m holding you to that then.”

#headcanon meme: answered #bleach #kurosaki ichigo #urahara kisuke #uraichi #phoenix ichigo #headcanon #anonymous #wow this universe's phoenix is a lot less... light? than most i've come across oops

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swampyswan · 3 years

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I had a dream that took place in a weird magical town. A man and a woman (I’ll call them Eve and Arcade for reasons I’ll explain later) are two individuals who have a weird connection; every now and then, they go through a cycle of randomly popping up in different places all over the town; sometimes in a water fountain, the middle of town hall, at the mall, in a cafe, etc. Every cycle starts with them popping up, and then the two go their separate ways and live their own lives, but they ALWAYS meet again and fall in love. The kicker? The two of them pop out of existence right before the relationship ever gets serious. Then, they pop up in a different spot of the town and it starts all over again.

The townsfolk are very aware of them because everyone has seen them do their dramatic love confessions all over town, but they always disappear before they confess any long term plans, like marriage. No one is too weirded out by this cycle because the town’s residents are each magical and nonsensical too (one guy has a chicken head, a girl constantly glitters, etc.). The town is VERY chill.

Neither Eve nor Arcade is aware of the other every time, and have to figure things out on their own. The town likes both of them just fine, but they’ve gotten annoyed that they can’t just get together, so the townsfolk tries to support them and help out whenever they can, and will guide the two in each other’s direction. One example is the two confessing their love in front of a cafe and Arcade proposing to Eve while people cheer them on - only to pop out of existence RIGHT before they kiss, and everyone around them groans out of frustration and impatience. Can’t these two just hook up already?

There is also a mild subplot where a guy in town (who I’ll just call Norm) is upset that he doesn’t have a “malformity”, which is a strange trait unique to him. He sees himself as weird because he’s an average person in a town where everyone has something unique, like having a chicken head, or being a witch, or being able to sparkle. He looks in an enchanted mirror and just sees himself naked rather than getting cursed by it. Eve actually looks out for him and the two are friends, although she does find him weird. They get coffee together whenever Eve is in town.

Eve is rude, impatient and aggressive, but ultimately a decent person. She also is vaguely aware that she reincarnates every now and again (although she never remembers Arcade) and uses the opportunity to steal stuff from stores. After all, if she’s just gonna disappear no one can really hold her accountable.

Arcade, on the other hand, is very friendly and energetic and takes every chance to help his community, so everyone in town likes him a lot, but he has a habit of hanging out in rainy sewers when he’s depressed and wearing a terrifying, molting, hideous black cat fursuit which muffles his speech.

One day, Norm goes to see Arcade on a rainy day when he’s feeling depressed. Norm walks down a sidewalk while there is a thunderstorm but realizes that Arcade is in the sewer, sobbing. Norm turns away and suddenly, the sewer is empty and Arcade teleports to a few feet behind Norm wearing his hideous fursuit. Norm screams while Arcade insists to not be scared. Norm tries to bring up to Arcade that Eve likes him (which she does, even if she doesn’t remember their past experiences), but before anything substantial happens, I woke up.

Things to know:

None of the characters actually had names, but these nicknames were given for convenience’s sake.

Eve heavily resembles Evelyn from League of Legends KDA and has the energy of that coffee girl from Scott Pilgrim (I forgot her name).

Arcade looks like a cute blonde dude from a romance anime (kind of like a fusion of Kyo from Fruits Baskets and Bakugo from MHA, but MUCH older, like early 30s, has a light beard, and wears work clothes) but talks like the guy from Arcade Craniacs (basically very grating but funny).

Norm looks like a regular anime extra lol.

#my dreams #dreams #dreaming #dream in color #dream meanings #weird dreams #nightmares #lucid dreaming

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alolanrain · 4 years

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Wing ash helping to spread pride month with ho oh since ho oh have rainbow affect and ash wings become rainbow wings, many peoples ask ash is he gay or supporting pride month

It’s the biggest pride fest yet, Ho oh had even shown up and that made Ash’s wing’s visibly shift, and Ash was living.

Lance was a bit a head of him, on his own pride float with some other League members who are Bisexual. his three Dragonairs lazily circled above and Ho oh, who had settled on Ash’s float that represent people who are questioning/don’t identify with labels, cooed at the dragons before bending down and nosing at Ash’s shoulders between his wings.

Flexing his wings out the rainbow edging didnt compare with Ho oh’s more vibrant colors added on to the sparkles that fell from the legenadry’s wings. It didn’t really matter to Ash he was just happy that the festival and the float parade is going along smoothly and the majority of people were having an awesome time.

And the people who weren’t were the homophobic, transphobic, literally almost every LGBTQ+ phobic. Rallying behind fences and walls made to block them off and yelling at police that where there to oversee the festivities. Signs filled with hate and slurs aimed at the happy people in the other side of the walls. They were being unusually quite though this time around. Probably because one of their Gods was actually taking part and wasn’t being a hermit in her cave.

“I forget sometimes,” Ho oh cooed, eyeing the slight mass of people dressed in black and white on the other side with beady eyes, “how some humans can twist and turn the words of our father and hate on each other to the point of rallying for their deaths.”

Ash hummed. Eyes going soft when he saw a group of small children, barely four from what he could make out from the mass of adults, press themselves against the fence and stare back at Ash in open awe. Their barely feathered wings drooling or raised. Ash waved and smiled, eyes twinkling in mirth as one of them waved back and the kids wings shuttered a little in excitement and shock. Hate was always taught young, may it be by themselves or by a person in their life, It was still forever taught in those few precious years where everything is big and scary.

The group of kids were pulled back into the group of angry and almost mostly quite protesters by what Ash would assume their parents or guardian. Instead they placed a group of angry old white Unovian descendentlooking men who crossed their arms and snarled at Ash. Their wings already molting for the last time and bald spots could be seen but nonetheless they spread them out as much as the crowd behind them and the tall fence jnfront of them could.

Ash in turn spread his own giant wings. His body looking comically small in their fluffiness and size. Ho oh had let out a louder cry, one in victory, that made people flinch on both sides and step back in shock. Ash would see the thousands if not millions of taken pictures later all over his social feeds. He would be standing in the front of the float, the only human on it at the moment in time because a lot of league members couldn’t make it much to their disappointment, wings streatched out to the point they were almost shaking with tension.

Large. Fluffy. Colorful. Stunning. Friendly. Dangerous.

People had already started calling him their Gaurdian Angel, much to the other Champions amusement, for more then just being part of the LGBTQ+ community. Ash has spoken up about not wanting to label himself because none of them had ‘fit right’ in his mind and heart or that he was still questioning himself. Soon Ash’s wings were apart of a new LGBTQ+ flag for still questioning/unlabeled people that weren’t inherently straight, overall kind of an ‘umbrella’ flag for everyone. The flag itself is just his black wings with rainbow edging, so what he gets when he’s near or next to Ho oh, on a gray background. Simple and easy in his opinion and from the majority of the community as well.

Back to the pride itself, the kids were running by on the side walk and Ash could smell dozens of restaurants and street vendors selling to people. Maybe later he can snag Lance and Wallace, who was behind him two floats down next to Professor Sycamore and Professor Rowen on the gay float, and go get a second lunch-early first dinner. Ho oh would have gone and disappear back to her home in the mountains. Far away from any humans and to regain her energy before Ash would seek her out later to fully thank Ho oh for coming to the humans festival.

#wolfy answers #ash ketchum #ho oh #wing shift!au

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meetthetank · 3 years

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Cruciamen Chapter 5: Rematch

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25104214/chapters/69006306 Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Categories: F/M, Other Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), Emil (NieR: Automata), Kainé (Nier) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, genre typical violence, On the Run, Monster of the Week, 9S is a half demon, 2B and A2 are shapeshifter Dragons, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Smut in the future, inaccurate depictions of medical procedures, Fantasy Biology, A2 is Nonbinary If A2 were more inclined to study themself, they’d find it hilarious in a dark way that collecting the salinified remains of human beings with a witch and a skeletally thin boy with his ornery horse becomes a weekly chore. It’d be just a tad less horrible if said ornery horse would stop trying to bite their fingers off if they so much as looked at her the wrong way. Emil had to diffuse at least three fights between them and Halua on the way to the ruins. They’ve never seen a horse so attached to one person, but Halua seems to hate everyone besides Emil, who she constantly nuzzles up against begging for pats and sweet grass.

Despite the complaints toward the heat, horse, and sand, searching for salt statues with Kainè and Emil is much more tolerable. It’s easier for them to defile the remains of long-dead humans when they have someone to chat with. Kainè complains like a molting elder about anything that moves, but especially the sun. A2 has never heard that big bright ball be called so many slurs in so many languages, but they find themselves chucking at the witch’s disdain for it. Emil sings jaunty tunes he makes up on the spot as he gleefully fills and organizes bags of people salt onto Halua’s cart. Sometimes when Kainè isn’t looking he lets his horse have a pinch as a treat. Most of the time A2 lets Emil ramble on about whatever he likes, only occasionally stopping their work to embellish on a one word answer they shoot his way.

However when the sun begins to set over the dunes and paints the sky a brilliant orange, A2 excuses themself to stretch their wings. They tell Kainè that they’re going to scout for anything weird, but the glare she gives them is telling enough. She knows why A2 wants to wander off, but she says nothing in the way of stopping them. Maybe they had done enough work to satisfy the old witch.

A2 has another mission sent down by Kainè as well. They’re supposed to search out more of a similar kind of ruins as well as a certain kind of track. The ruins are simple enough to understand. The lingering brickwork and defiant spires are easy to spot so long as there weren’t any dunes or dust storms in the way, but the second thing that they’re supposed to look out for gives them pause.

Kaine described footprints. Large, five-toed footprints with scale imprints. A2 knows for certain that she wants them to be on the lookout for a dragon, but they had never heard of a dragon with a footprint like that. Or that large. Kaine made it sound like the prints were as big as their whole torso, but A2 doubts that there’s anything that big that’ll leave a footprint. The Hegel demon is the largest thing they’ve seen and that thing floats.

Regardless of the chore they’ve been assigned, A2 is just happy to spread their wings without their chest hurting. Soaring over the expanse of sand on the hot desert winds brings a lightness to their body and mind that they hadn’t felt in a long time. It’s liberating in a way that makes them want to keep flying and see where the winds take them. They inhale lungs full of scorching air and push themselves straight into the bright blue sky. Once they reach the height where the air becomes cold, they tuck their wings into their body and allow themselves to free fall back to earth. The rush of the winds and sky around them makes their heart thunder against their hollow bones. Dust whips past them, their third eyelids doing all they can to protect their eyes from the outside world. Their blood sings through their veins, carrying liquid excitement and terror as they plummet. The moment they feel a rush of hot air they spread their wings out and swoop into a comfortable gliding position. The raw energy in their body causes a roar to break through their throat and echo out through the desert.

The raw freedom of the skies and the elation that comes with is in a moment replaced with sinking dread.

Beyond the great dunes the size of mountains, something creates clouds of dust and sand. It swirls with powerful gusts of wind, forming a massive wall of infinitely small particles. It almost reaches to the sky and looms over a large portion of the desert like a slumbering beast. A2 doesn’t have much knowledge of desert weather, but they don’t think that dust storms like that are supposed to stay in one area. Judging by the directions of the winds, which blow back towards where Kaine and Emil are, the storm should have been on them about an hour ago. Something is either creating it, or keeping it there.

Suddenly a great bulbous shape shoots out from the clouds of sand and into the sky. The rumbling bellow of Hegel rolls across the desert like thunder as the demon rises from the storm and into the air. Its tendrils slither and writhe across its body, no doubt clearing the dust and sand from its body. Puffs of hot air escape from its mouths, adding more sand to the quickly dissipating storm.

The freedom that sang through A2’s chest is replaced by a burning fury.

They beat their wings with all the hate they can push through their muscles. Blood roars through their veins as the desert winds sting their eyes and throat.

The grit their beak and teeth together, gnashing them in anticipation of sinking them into the soft flesh of the demon. Their claws ache for the feeling of its blood pouring over them as they tear the skin and muscles apart. With blistering speed they gain on Hegel as it lazily rises into the sky. The demon doesn’t seem to notice them until they’re close enough to smell it’s putrid breath. Its eyes lock onto A2, shrinking in fear the instant it recognizes them. A2 prepares for a blast of energy to come flying their way, but Hegel opens its maw and lets out a trumpeting bellow that rolls across the desert like thunder. It’s body undulates, thrusting itself into the distance at terrifying speeds.

A2 puts all their power into chasing after Hegel. A familiar heat sings through their body, spurring their muscles to work harder than they thought possible, but Hegel proves just as fast despite its size. Each time A2 dives to attack with claws or beak, the demon simply moves out of the way with little effort. As frustrating as their aerial dance is, A2 gains on Hegel bit by bit. Their beak scrapes against its flesh though fails to hook into it. The demon squeals with terror and jets forward with all its might, putting several yards between them in one burst of speed.

Just as they begin to gain on the demon once more, a great shadow passes over A2, something far larger than they expected to see in the desert. They beat their wings in a panicked attempt to avoid the shadow, forcing themself to stop mid-flight. The shadow shifts across the dunes faster than A2 can perceive, and a red shape that dwarfs them appears between them and the fleeing demon.

A powerful gust of wind throws A2 off balance and sends them careening to the ground. They flail their body and beat their wings in a futile attempt to right themself but the ground rushes up to them much faster than they hoped. The sand erupts around them in a dense cloud that obscures the gargantuan thing that looms above them. All they can see is a shape with immense wings.

With one great flap, the creature blows the sand clouds away from A2, revealing a monster they had only heard of in fantastic stories told to them as a cub. Scales as red as blood, leathery wings that call the winds of a hurricane, and a sneer that drips with malice and venom. Its body, from long neck to whip-like tail, moves like a serpent or a lizard’s; undulating with each movement. Each of its four feet, which could be as big as A2, are tipped with wicked black claws on each of the five toes. Its evil orange eyes burn with the same kind of disdain that one would use towards an insect or rodent. Simply being near its body makes the air searing hot to the point where A2 thinks their feathers would catch fire.

“Cease, fowl,” the beast snarls in a voice that rumbles like thunder.

A2 is never one to flinch from anything, but they find themself cowering into the ground at the monster’s words. They press themself to the ground in a submissive pose, though their feathers still flare out in a display of aggression and warning. Whatever good that will do. If this thing wanted them dead, all it would have to do is breathe.

The red beast snorts a small jet of flames and holds its head high above them, “Pitiful. How dare your species call yourselves dragons.” It beats its great crimson wings and ascends into the sky. “Fool that you are to attack beings greater than yourself. I extend this warning out of contempt, not kinship or kindness. Cease, or be erased.”

And just as fast as the monster appears it takes to the skies once more and soars westward, vanishing into the afternoon sun. It is only after it disappears that A2 realizes they’re shivering so much that some of their loose feathers fall to the ground. Their heart threatens to burst from their chest, and their lungs strain with rapid, uneven breaths. It’s only the sight of Hegel in the distance that snaps them out of their fear induced daze.

Despite the threat veiled as a warning, A2 can’t fight the instincts that push them to their feet once again. They’d probably never get a chance to kill the demon that something that powerful protects, for what reason they don’t care. It takes all their self control not to fly after Hegel out of pure spite for the red beast, but instead they start in the direction they came from, back towards Emil and Kainè.

They’ve never flown as fast in their life. The ruins come into view within moments; they can even see Emil waving his hands to try and get their attention. Kaine stands at the top of one of the spires, balancing only on the balls of her feet. A2 can see the scowl she throws their way as they pass her. They all but crash into the sand, kicking up more clouds of dust as they transform.

“A2!” Emil shouts as he runs up to her, “Are you okay?! Did he hurt you?!”The moment they land, Emil is on them. He checks them for cuts, burns, broken bones, any kind of injury he can find. They don’t have the energy to swat his arms away.

“No…” They let out a few quick, ragged breaths. “I’m okay…”

Kaine hops down from her perch and approaches the two with a scowl clear on her face. Part of A2 wants to snap at her before she can chew them out for being stupid, but they’re so damn tired after that sprint flight.

“What… What was that thing?” they ask, not giving Kaine the chance to launch into her scolding.

Kaine huffs, “A big ugly bastard.” A2 glares at Kaine and opens their mouth to say something only for Emil to shake his head at them.

“That was Grigori,” he says. “A true dragon.”

Emil’s words send a shiver down A2’s spine. They had heard of creatures like that before, but only in Elder’s tales made to scare cubs into listening to their parents. Even after seeing the wide variety of demons and monsters that lurk in the world, they never imagined something as terrifying a true dragon could actually exist.

“I knew he’d wake up sooner or later,” Kaine grumbles, “Asshole always looking to stir shit up or burn down a few cities for shits and giggles.

”Emil shoots the old witch a glare but decides not to say what was on the tip of his tongue (if he has one. A2 still isn’t sure).

“We should head back home just in case the big red bastard is looking for a snack,” Kaine mutters.

But when A2 stands back from the duo, recognition flashes across Kaine’s face. There’s the same kind of determination, the sorrowful desperation that only a person with nothing to lose has. She says nothing as Emil looks back and forth between the two of them.

“A-...A2 are you coming?” he asks, but the tone in his voice suggests he already knows the answer.

“No,” they say, shaking their head, “I was chasing Hegel before that… before Grigori showed up. I’m not letting it get away again.

”Emil starts to tell them what a dangerous and terrible idea that is, that it’s far too dangerous for them to go in their condition, that they need to stay and recover all their strength; but A2 tunes him out to the point where he’s nothing but muttering noises. It’s Kaine that holds their attention instead. There’s a sadness in her violet eyes hidden, behind a scowl. Yet she remains silent as Emil pleads for them to stay for just a little longer.

“Sorry,” they say, turning back to Emil, “But… I guess I don’t really care if it’s dangerous or not. I’m going to kill every demon I can find.

”Emil is stunned into silence. He casts his eyes to the ground and for a moment A2 almost feels bad enough to apologize and stay with him and Kaine. But their mind drifts back to the black feather that hangs off the pommel of their sword and the pit of sorrow and hatred opens up in their stomach once again.

A long bout of silence stretches on between the three before Kaine finally speaks up. “Well, get going then. If you wait any longer you’ll lose it.”

Emil frets with his sleeves but keeps to himself. With a quiet sigh A2 saunters over to say a quick goodbye to the kid, but once they’re close enough he lunges forward and wraps his arms around her in a tight, bony hug.

“I’ll miss you.” he mutters, and A2 can’t stop themself from reciprocating.

“Yeah… Thank you for everything. Take care, kid.”

#nier automata #A2 #nier kaine #nier emil #fanfic #Nier fanfic #Tank fics #one day i will remember to post these when they go up

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ineffably-good · 5 years

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Changes (1/3)

Read it on AO3

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale decide they better let their pet snake, Frederick, see them in their true forms before he finds out by surprise.

___

“Did you know,” Crowley said one day, looking up from his phone as they sprawled on the couch with their legs entwined, “that king snakes are named that because they tend to kill and eat other snakes?”

Aziraphale looked up from his book and wrinkled his nose. “Well that’s unsettling,” he said.

“Also they have the strongest constrictor strength of any snake.” Crowley read from his screen. “Really? Huh. That’s how they do it – they squeeze so hard they can stop the heart of something much bigger than them. Here, look at this video of a king snake just up and eating a snake twice its size.”

He held the screen out so the angel could see it, but Aziraphale frowned in distaste and pushed it away, not liking to think about his friendly little pet that way.

“Why exactly are you sharing this information?” he asked, confused.

Crowley looked thoughtful. “It’s just – I was wondering what would happen if Frederick saw me in my snake form.”

Aziraphale peered at him over the top of his glasses. “Well, he’d hardly be able to eat you.”

“No, I know that. I just wonder if he’d be frightened or if it would be okay.” He thought for a minute. “We should probably introduce him to that side of me at some point, so we don’t scare him half to death if he ever comes across me, you know?”

Aziraphale put his book down. “You might have a point. He’s bound to find you sometime in snake form, with winter coming up and the shop getting colder.” Crowley was inclined to spend more time in snake form in the winter, as it was just easier to conserve body heat when he could curl up in a tight ball near a heat source. He also tended to revert to snake form whenever he was especially confounded, cross, overly tired, or being asked to share his feelings at moments when he didn’t want to. Aziraphale found these reactions, in sequence, endearing, irritating, adorable, and infuriating.

“He hasn’t seen either of us with wings, either,” Crowley pointed out, interrupting the angel’s line of thought. “Could be in for a series of surprises, our young Frederick.”

“All right, I’ll think it over,” Aziraphale said. “We need to proceed carefully but you’re probably right that we need to do something about this soon.”

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Aziraphale began trying to lay the ground work with Frederick. He presented him with a carefully-pulled feather from one of his wings, one day. The snake flickered his tongue and scented it with some interest for a moment, then tried to eat it. He swallowed it down, laid still for a moment, and then vomited it back up with a sound that sound like *hrgk*.

THANKS SO MUCH FOR THAT, Frederick thought grumpily at Aziraphale. The snake glared balefully at him for a moment, then tunneled under his bedding material.

“That could have gone better,” Aziraphale muttered.

They tried again later with one of Crowley’s feathers, a black secondary one he'd saved from a molt. Frederick, now suspicious of feather-shaped objects, scented it from further away and then crawled into his cardboard tube, watching it suspiciously. He’d learned that these things had a mind of their own, even if they smelled comfortingly of his two large pets.

“He’s not getting the idea,” Crowley said. “We’re just going to have to show him.”

The next time, they pulled out the glass vivarium and placed it, with Frederick tucked securely inside, on the middle of the office desk.

Crowley sat at the desk chair next to him and tapped the glass a little to get Frederick’s attention. “Are you ready? You need to watch now,” he said quietly, laying one hand in front of the glass case in a manner he hoped was comforting. “Watch Aziraphale.”

WHAT NOW? Frederick moaned, irritated at yet another interruption to his nap schedule.

He unwillingly lifted his head and pinned both the pointy and the fluffy creature with his disapproving gaze, then prepared to go back to sleep. He had almost succeeded in resettling when suddenly, he picked up on a strange shift in the air of the room, almost like an electric current, and the background of the room behind his large, fluffy friend shimmered briefly as Aziraphale concentrated on manifesting his wings into the physical plane.

With a sudden pop, there they were. Glorious, huge, alabaster wings, held carefully behind him in a nonthreatening stance. Aziraphale watched as Frederick, who was most definitely paying attention now, uncoiled slowly and moved as far away to the other side of the glass container as he could.

“Frederick,” Aziraphale said, moving slowly to come kneel before the container. “It’s still me. I’m an angel, that’s all. Not a bird of prey.”

Frederick hissed quietly and looked unconvinced. What in the blazes is an angel, he thought to himself. His limited experience of the world had contained no mention of this concept.

“Let’s try just hanging about for a bit with your wings out,” Crowley said. “Maybe he’ll get used to it and you can take him out for a closer look.”

Frederick watched the two of them walk into the kitchen area to make tea, and he pondered. He’d always known there was something strange about these two – there had always been a hint of feathers in both of their scent profiles, and he’d never been quite sure why. So, his lovely, kind owner was actually a gigantic bird? Or part bird? Either way, if there was one thing a snake of his size knew it was that he was no match for an avian of that size, and he was not at all sure that he liked this development.

In Frederick’s world, there were two truths: large snakes ate small birds, and large birds ate small snakes. End of story. Period. Finito. And yet, he couldn’t find it quite in himself to be afraid of his owner. He’d always been so kind.

The dark one came back a while later and reached in to pull him out of his container. Frederick hissed dramatically and made his displeasure known, but ultimately allowed it. He took him over to the table where Aziraphale was sitting and, holding the snake carefully, let him take a good look at the wings and scent them to his heart's content.

Aziraphale concentrated on radiating as much love and peace as he could at the little creature, and soon enough the snake uncoiled a little and accepted a few pets from his owner.

HEY YOU KNOW WHAT? I DON’T LIKE IT. Frederick thought at them both, but as it didn’t seem like Aziraphale was inclined to eat him, he supposed he could get used to it.

He was, they all noted, much happier when Aziraphale put his wings away.

“Better not let him see you in your true form any time soon,” Crowley murmured that night. “Four wings and all those eyes? You’ll give the poor little guy nightmares.”

“Indeed,” Aziraphale agreed. “That can probably be avoided, for the most part.”

Frederick the snake was having a very nice autumn, thank you very much. Things had been very calm for the last few months since he’d pulled his disappearing act and startled the two supposed grownups into slightly better behavior, and to their credit they’d been much less prone to idiocy lately. Frederick had watched approvingly from his perch nearby as they exchanged rings and acted ridiculously sappy about the whole thing. He didn't understand what the fuss about a couple lumps of metal was all about, but in general he thought anything that made the two of them less likely to bicker was worth encouraging. And when they were feeling sappy, they tended to extend that pleasantness to Frederick through a surfeit of treats and long naps in the sun.

All in all, it had worked out rather well.

After Aziraphale’s reveal, Frederick noted that his fuzzy owner was taking care to spend a bit more time with him, which was nice. Aziraphale had always been the warmest body in the house, and although he loved his heating pad, nothing really beat curling up with the fuzzy one for keeping a snake loose and happy. He basked in the attention and tried not to think any further about his pet’s dual nature. Some things were best ignored.

It was, he thought, the most sensible approach.

A few days later, they decided it was Crowley’s turn to reveal his wings. Aziraphale sat on the couch with Frederick curled up in his lap, stroking the snake gently while he mostly napped. “Frederick, wake up pay attention now,” Aziraphale said, booping him gently on the nose to wake him up. "Crowley needs to show you something."

OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE, WHAT DO YOU TWO WANT THIS TIME? Frederick thought at them. Frederick had for several months now been listening closely to the pointy one and was picking up on quite a wide variety of curse words, which he practiced assiduously at night while his companions slept. He was rather proud of how well he was doing with them.

Crowley got a strange look on his face for just a second. "Did you hear something?" he asked Aziraphale.

"No," the angel said, looking at him levelly. "You all right, there?"

Crowley nodded his assent and got back to the task at hand. He frowned in concentration, while the angel made sure Frederick was watching.

There was a whoomp sound of displaced air and, suddenly, the pointy one was unfolding large, black wings behind him.

HE’S A CROW??? Frederick shrieked. OH THAT EXPLAINS *SO* MANY THINGS.

Crows, he thought with the inborn knowledge of all snake-kind, were nothing any intelligent snake tried to eat. They were smart and ruthless fighters, loyal in a way that caused their loved ones to band together to help them if they were under attack, and lived to cause trouble. They cackled with their own twisted sense of humor that no one else could really understand, and they were messy and annoying.

That seemed about right, he thought, for what he knew of the pointy one.

Also, luckily, they tended not to hunt snakes.

Frederick eyed Crowley with a sense of grudging respect, and nodded his head a little in acceptance. Better a crow, who, yes, was crazy but was predictable crazy, then a big giant seagull. No one could tell what a seagull might do next.

FINE, he thought at them both, beyond annoyed. I CAN DEAL WITH THIS. REALLY GLAD THIS IS ALL OUT IN THE OPEN. CAN WE STOP WITH THE BIG REVEALS NOW? ANYONE WANT TO TURN INTO A FREAKING LAMPSHADE OR ANYTHING?

“He’s doing good, I think,” Crowley said. “Let’s show him the rest.”

“Okay, Frederick,” Aziraphale said, “there’s more. Crowley can change into something else, too.”

Frederick sighed dramatically, but looked up, interested in spite of himself. He watched, transfixed, as the big, feathered, Crowley-adjacent thing in front of him slowly morphed and dropped to the floor and became the absolutely biggest snake he had ever seen in his life.

Frederick’s entire brain short circuited and he did what any sensible snake would do faced with such an enormous threat – he went limp and played dead.

#good omens #good omens fics #ineffable husbands #ineffable partners #aziraphale x crowley #snek fiction #frederick the snake #my fics #changes #time to face the strange #domestic moments at home #serpent and the seagull series #serpent and the seagull

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ad1ostoreador · 4 years

Text

>> View the mirthhive mirror...

(...or, a purposeful encounter between @fiduspawn-master and @ad1ostoreador, featuring several counts of awkwardness, an emotional shock, a missing moon, and at least one dragon.)

ad1ostoreador: It didn't take much preparation, for Tavros to be ready to go. A poncho-like cloak, thrown over his folded wings, a small spare bladeleaf-woven basket hooked over one arm, filled with crumbly orange bits of bark chocolate, and an uncertain scratch of the back of his head, before he was inspecting his wrist transportalizer and keying in the right coordinates.

The transportalizer went vworp, with its usual disorienting stutter, and he lifted a hand in greeting, as he appeared on the other side and gave his head a tiny shake to rebalance himself. "Uh.... hey?"

It was hard, sometimes, to know just how timelines would diverge, and what quirks would strike a passer-by as strange... but the amount of color he was wearing, between the poncho and his loose, patterned pants, would likely be quite odd on any Imperial Alternia, especially for a lowblood. The fact that he was stubbornly shoeless, maybe, too, but after sweeps of feeling nothing, he was largely uninterested in having anything between his feet and any possible source of sensation, and running around on a beach and through woods all the time for the past months had done quite a lot to toughen them up, post-pupation. Adult pupation itself had left him well over six feet tall, with hide darker than wiggler-gray, both from frequent sun (freckling included) and from chitin reinforcing it, and his eyes had long since filled in bronze. His hair was a bit shaggy on the sides of his mohawk, in the absence of a recent shave, and showed hints of lighter bronze in streaks through the black, there.

fiduspawn-master: Tavros spent the few minutes it would take for the other Tavros to arrive nervously tidying things around his hive. He was naturally a very fastidious troll, but it was a hard thing to keep up all the time in his condition. He was putting his dishes away when he heard the noise he now recognized as a visitor appearing just outside his hive.

The wind was still racing in from the sea, its constant whisper joined by the creaking of the windmill turning high above and the roar of the waves crashing against the cliffs. A few hop and cluckbeasts that had scattered in fear at the strange phenomenon were starting to wander back as Tavros opened the door to greet--

Oh man. He looked up at the familiar, unfamiliar figure standing in front of his hive. It was like looking in a mirthhive mirror. Seeing an adult was still somewhat alarming in and of itself, (even though he was basically an adult himself) And seeing one that was post molt was even more wild, not to mention one that was kind of him...

This might actually be weirder than meeting Bull...

He was staring- "Uhhhhh, H-hi!" He raised a hand in a stiff, awkward wave. "Do you, Want to come in?" that wasn't a great question.

ad1ostoreador: The location might have been starkly different from his own long-ago hive, but the creaking of the windmill was familiar, bone-deep, and left him awash in a curious mix of nostalgia and wrong-footedness, mixed as it was with the alien smell of the sea. The scent was somehow very different from the ocean he lived beside, at present... some difference in the blend of minerals, or in the things living and growing in it, and it took Tavros a moment to remember how to answer, with his communing-sense flickering out automatically to touch and catalog beasts he hadn't encountered in sweeps on end.

"Um...." A slow blink, and then an awkward little grin, as he faced the other troll. "Yeah, sorry... I just... forgot what Alternia felt like.... It's been a... long time." He lifted the basket a little, and moved nearer, but none too quickly. Better to give his alternate room to steer clear of the doorway, first. It was strange, too, how much smaller his wigglerhood hive felt than it once had, to him. He'd visited occasional memories of it, back in the dreambubbles, but none since he'd grown to his present size, and this was real, with a sense of weight and solidity around his horns that the bubbles had never really managed to achieve.

fiduspawn-master: Possibly the biggest visual difference was the quality of light. The pink moon above was not overshadowed by a green neighbor, having only its moonlet for company. It cast the world in softer, warmer hues.

There was an impressive variety of local beasts in the area, including at least a dozen fairy bulls and an assortment of unfamiliar, synthetic beasts, fiduspawn or fakespawn presumably.

"Oh, You're fine! Take your time!" Tavros reassured him, deftly rolling back and to the side as he pulled the door open more for him. The doorframe was accommodatingly wide and a couple of the antlered hopbeasts slipped inside before the new guest had reached the door.

Inside was one large open room, with a nutrition area to one side and many windows and low tables against the opposite wall. Half of them had the curtains drawn already, and there were wide paths around everything, and not a lot of chairs.

"Uhm, The pot's in the kitchen, and, I can go grab the thing I made for Gamzee, If you, Uhh, Give me a second,,," Tav said from behind him, shutting the door carefully, mindful of critters slipping in or out.

There were two fairy bulls perching around the nutrition area, though one was weird and shiny and definitely a robot. Both of them jingled in alarm at the stranger and darted towards their ward to hover protectively around him. "Oh, Uhm, Sorry, They're still not used to other trolls being here, And, That being okay..." Tav apologized as he reached out to bring the flesh and blood lusus out of the air and into his lap, petting it soothingly.

ad1ostoreador: Honestly, he hadn't even registered the green moon's absence, perhaps assuming it was still beyond the horizon. Tavros moved forward, stepping on through the door, and froze as his gaze landed on the living fairy bull, breath hitching as if he'd just been surprise-punched in the gut.

Right. Of course Tink was alive, here. Of course he was prepared for that. (He wasn't.)

"....Yeah, of course they, uh... wouldn't..." Tavros murmured, a little weakly, and tore his eyes off the lusus who didn't recognize him, looking down at the basket he held. "...Where should I, um... put this?" He struggled for a casual tone, swallowing.

fiduspawn-master: Tav's fingers brushed his own brow as he sent brief reassurance to the small lusi, both calming down immediately. "Oh, you can leave it in the kitchen, I'll be right back!" He pivoted and rolled off towards the back of the room and down a hallway, disappearing for a minute and leaving the other Tavros alone in the space. A hopbeast sniffed his foot curiously as some other critters moved about the room, including one's he'd made himself. There was a tank on one of the low tables where the colorful newest project was swimming around contentedly.

Tavros would return a couple of minutes later, flanked by the two fairybulls and holding a small parcel wrapped in a scrap of blue gingham fabric. "Uhm, Here it is!"

ad1ostoreador: Tavros gave a small nod, not looking up, and took a deep breath or two as his counterpart rolled down the hall. The hive layout was... partially the same, and partially not. Definitely less cluttered than his own, at six sweeps, and it looked more... purposeful, somehow. Widened, maybe, with more convenient paths to wheel through.

He moved into the nutrition-block area, and set the little basket on a counter, within easy reach of the edge. The borrowed pot, he saw, and held awkwardly for a moment before remembering his sylladex--it wouldn't work, back home, but here, it made a decent place to stash things out of his graspers. Then, the curious hopbeast got a gentle head-scritching, between the antlers.

When his alternate returned, he turned around and straightened up to accept the offered parcel, still not quite daring to look at either the fairy bull or the robotic version. "Thanks... I'll, um, pass it on to him, and let him know..."

fiduspawn-master: There were a few low ramps in the nutrition area, in front of the counters and prongtrap and the crisprange so that they were reachable. Everything was otherwise uncomfortably low for an upright troll as tables had been modified for the hivedweller's convenience.

Tav held the parcel up to his guest, rolling back a bit once he'd taken it so he wouldn't have to crane his neck to look up at him. The normal fairy bull had alighted on the counter near the familiar stranger's elbow and was leaning over to carefully sniff him, its breath tickling his skin.

"Yes, Okay, Uhm, Tell him I hope he gets better soon I guess..." He smoothed his hands anxiously over the thick blanket wrapped around his legs. "Uhhhh... Is this, Weird for you too?"

ad1ostoreador: "He's... Gamzee's good. It's just... he's got a thing, right now, where he's... not wanting to go off-planet." A thing that Tavros wasn't entirely ready to think too hard about, just yet, for assorted reasons. "I'll tell him, though..."

His fingers twitched and curled a little more by his side in an almost-flinch, where the fairy bull was sniffing his arm, and he looked over at a tinted window instead, nodding a couple of times, rapidly. "...Yeah. It's... pretty weird. I can't, uh... actually remember the last time I met another... living version of us, face to face." A weak smile.

"It's good, though... I'm glad." It was a rare enough occasion that he thought it was pretty special. Someone else who'd managed to survive the worst Alternia could throw at them, instead of ending up just another blank-eyed ghost of a dead kid no one really bothered to consider. Tavros shifted his stance slightly, folded wings rustling under the poncho and skimming the floor behind his feet at their tips as he weighed the option of sitting down on a ramp against the logistics of trying to arrange his wings somewhere without knocking over or breaking anything important behind him. "How are you, uh... doing, though? With... alts, and timelines, and everything..."

fiduspawn-master: Tav's brow pinched a bit with worry. "Uhm, Yeah, I think he mentioned some stuff to me... Yeah..." He didn't elaborate, it wasn't his place. He reached up awkwardly to rub the back of his neck as his alternate self agreed about the weirdness, blanching a bit when he mentioned 'living versions' "Oh... Oh man... You've seen-?" That sounded terrible, seeing his own corpse... "Uhm, Yeah I guess." He tried to return the smile, giving Tink a glance as they flew up to hover around the other Tavros' head, jingling softly.

His ears twitched as he herd the rustling of wings and noticed his guest fidgeting "Oh! Uhm, Do you want to sit down? I have a loungeplank!" He said, quickly backing up and spinning around to the other side of the big, open block. There was indeed a mostly unused loungeplank shoved back against the wall across from a row of windows, a skylight letting in the moonlight from above through a heavy tint. There was a screen on the third wall and another low table with a half dozen stacks of fiduspawn cards he'd been organizing, along with his old, beat up husktop. He quickly cleared a stack of host plushes off of the couch, dumping them off to one side for now and turning back towards his guest. "Oh, uhm, well... Its- Uhhhh." He broke eyecontact, hands coming together to twist the ring around one of his thumbs. "its... different... from normal..."

ad1ostoreador: "...Ghosts, and stuff, mostly. A little different from, uh... the type Aradia used to call up, though... in a place where they all sort of, um.... hung around and didn't remember they were dead, usually." Or that he'd visited before. Or much of anything, outside of whatever set of memories or pan misfirings they'd gotten hung up on going through the motions of repeating, over and over and over.

The offer of a loungeplank made him shrug slightly, rubbing at the back of his neck one-handed. "Is it okay if I, uhh... pull it away from the wall a bit? I'll put it back, after..." The ring on Tavros's thumb caught his eye, unfamiliar as the accessory was to him, but he didn't pry. "...Yeah... it's definitely different, for sure." It was still hard to look at Tink, and he couldn't bear communing with the lusus, at all. He'd have thought four sweeps would dull the edges there, some.

fiduspawn-master: "Oh, Right, Wow..." He'd always thought ghosts were pretty spooky, and he'd only seen Aradia conjure them up once. He didn't really want to think about himself being... like that.

"Yeah! Of course! Whatever you need!" He replied quickly "Here!"

He rolled over to one side of the loungeplank, grabbing the corner and bracing his other hand against the wall, pushing it forward a few feet pretty easily, if unevenly.

"Uhm, Yeah, It's been... A lot... I think maybe I'm not dealing with it that great..." he mumbled, looking into the dark space behind the loungeplank as a trio of sleepy eyes blinked back at him. He rolled backwards to let the soothcoon waddle out from its nap spot.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros moved to heft the other end of the loungeplank, scooting it easily forward to leave clearance for his wings, and pausing to chirp a quiet greeting-noise at the soothcoon, with a touch of apology for disturbing it.

"I... think, probably, it would be hard for anyone to, uh... deal with it wonderfully, all things considered. Even for those of us who played the game, because it was dumb and awful... ....So... it's okay to be kind of... rattled, about it all, yeah?" He trailed off, then carefully took a crooked seat on the loungeplank, wings draped over the back and down to the floor behind it at an angle.

fiduspawn-master: Tavros turned to situate himself on the other side of the table, his hands smoothing distractedly over the blanket wrapped around his legs again as he looked around the floor. "I'm not really sure if 'rattled' is the word that I would use, Or that even all of the crazy other timeline versions of people I knew are, Uhh, the thing that I'm not handling well..." he admitted, his fangs digging at his lower lip a little. "I mean, I think that I can just kind of accept that that's a thing, since, I've known for a sweep by now..."

The robotic fairy bull was still perched on the back of his chair while the other had landed on the back of the couch, directing a tiny moo in their guest's directions, the naturally affectionate creature demanding attention.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros worried at his own lip a little, with a fang, sneaking a glance toward the living fairy bull and twisting his own fingers together in his lap, slowly, until his knuckles paled. "...No? What part is, uh... messing with you, then?"

fiduspawn-master: The small lusus fluttered its eyelashes at him and mooed again, fluttering its wings with a little jingle as well, practically begging for a pet.

"Uhhh.... It's, Probably not important... And, Also kind of hard to articulate. And, Maybe kind of terrible?" He winced as he bit his lip a little too hard, starting to fidget with the ring around his thumb again. "Sorry, You probably don't want to talk about this..."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros took another deep, slightly shaky breath, and fought down any pathetic grub-noises before they could slip out, very carefully reaching up and giving the fairy bull a gentle pet.

"...I mean... it's not fair to you, if parts of all this are messing you up. So... maybe if you can, uh, articulate at least some of it, you might feel kind of better?"

fiduspawn-master: They were ecstatic! Nuzzling his palm and licking his fingers as they jingled happily.

Tavros nearly mimicked his alter's shaky breath, his claws tapping against his ring "Uhm... I guess there are just, Some feelings I've been having, That, I'm not used to having..." he mumbles, shrugging slightly.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros stared into an indistinct spot somewhere near the middle of the floor while the lusus licked his fingers and nuzzled on his hand, his eyes gone a little bit glassy, but managed to keep his voice largely level, if somewhat quieter than usual. "...I don't want to, um... assume things. About you, or feelings that happen to you... even if I kind of, uhh... suspect that maybe we had some of the same... problems, relating to that general, uh, area of experiences..."

fiduspawn-master: Well, maybe, if anyone could understand, without thinking he was just really terrible, it would be another version of himself, maybe... He finally looked up at him to respond before noticing his expression and stopping. "Uhm, Are you, Okay?" He asked, concerned.

The lusus still looked pleased as punch to be pet, its little tail whipping back and forth.

ad1ostoreador: He bit his lip again, and looked up, almost guiltily jerking his hand back to his lap, with a quick rub of the other hand over his eyes. "....yeah. I'm okay. It's fine..."

fiduspawn-master: Tavros frowned, tilting his head slightly as the lusus mooed in disappointment "Uhm, Okay, But, No, I don't think that you are?"

ad1ostoreador: A few beats of silence passed, and then Tavros managed--"...I wasn't... expecting to see..." He jerked his head slightly in the direction of the lusus. "...that's all. It's dumb, and I should have... expected. I'm okay."

fiduspawn-master: His brows furrowed in confusion. "To see a fairy bull? Uhm... Oh, Right, I guess there must not be any in the place that you live... Uhm, I can ask him to go in the other room, If you want" He offered.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros hesitated, then shook his head, though a tiny part of him wanted to nod, instead, and another part wanted to maybe just curl up in a hole. "No.... no. It's okay... really. It's just been a long time. You were, uh.... you were saying?"

fiduspawn-master: He wasn't totally convinced, sending a brief thought to the fairy bull to not bother their guest. Reluctantly they fluttered down to the other side of the couch and sat down, pouting a little bit. "Oh, Uhm, I don't know. We don't really have to talk about it..." His alter looked upset and distracted, and he didn't want to make him more uncomfortable or bother him about his problems...

ad1ostoreador: Frankly, a distraction from the shitty ache behind his eyes and missing his own lusus would be welcome. He rubbed at the ring in his own nose, briefly, and let out a tiny breath. "....like I said, I don't want to, um... assume things, which could be wrong, if you don't... want to say anything. But... you don't have to."

fiduspawn-master: He sighed faintly and fiddled with his ring again, looking off towards the windows. "Well... I guess I have just gotten pretty used to the only feeling I felt being loneliness? Which, Was really pretty terrible, But also, Familiar...?" He trailed off a moment, one hand squeezing into a fist. "Now, There are people to talk to and, Uhhh, Watch, Live their lives, Doing important things and, Uhm, Having friends that care about them a lot, And, It has just been making me have a lot of feelings about everything, And, It feels like it was easier, To just be lonely, But, Also, Somehow, I feel even more lonely than I did before?" He swallowed, looking down as his hair flopped forward into his face, his hands kneading together hard. "Uhm, Sorry, That probably sounds pretty dumb, And, Terrible..."

ad1ostoreador: "No, I... I get it." Tavros cleared his throat a little, fingers back to being laced together in his lap. "...Being in the Furthest Ring alone was... really lonely. And in some ways it... felt even worse to go online, and see everyone just... busy and happy with all their own, uh, lives, and stuff, and people they actually cared about..."

fiduspawn-master: He finally looked up at his alter again as he spoke, nodding a little with a small sniff "Yeah, That is, Pretty much it exactly..." he huffed, reaching up to push his hair back into place again. "I, Don't really know what to do about it, Or, If it would be better to just... Not go online..."

ad1ostoreador: "...It's not easy. And sometimes the bad times like that just keep happening over again, when it's extra, uh, hard, and lonely, and everything is awful. But... if you stay away from everyone, and you don't meet anyone, or talk to anyone.... you won't get any of the good times, then, when it doesn't feel that way, and when you can believe that people would notice, if you... weren't online." It was possibly a cycle Tavros had been through multiple times, himself.

fiduspawn-master: His hand stayed in his hair, twisting it between his fingers some as he tried to get the lump out of his throat, making it hard to breathe. "You, Uhm, Really think that it could be like that for me?" he huffed, looking down a the blanket over his legs. "For me?"

ad1ostoreador: "I think, definitely so. And... I think that trolls aren't... meant to be all alone. We... need other people, more than that... even with all the dumb Imperial stuff, trying to draw lines between everybody and keep them apart..." Tavros echoed the faint 'huff', with a small shake of his head.

fiduspawn-master: Tav fidgeted a bit at the empire talk, shifting a little in his chair and shrugging "I mean, I wouldn't be alone if I wasnt-... I could- could have, Made other friends, And, Uhm, known people... I could have tried..." Maybe he shouldn't be defending the empire here, but it was kind of his fault for being a cripple. "I wouldn't have gotten stuck in being lonely, I don't think..."

ad1ostoreador: "...It's not 'could have'... it's 'can'," Tavros pointed out, glancing up from his own fingers then. "Only, without the part where V--she, uh, ruins everything, always. There's... lots of options, you know? Even if you haven't always... had some of those options, before now."

fiduspawn-master: His fingers fisted tight in the blanket in his lap at the mere mention. "Yeah." he huffed with a scowl before sighing again "Yeah... I guess, It will only be too late if I stop trying... It's... Hard though. It still kind of feels like I'm too late, And, Not ready, At the same time..."

ad1ostoreador: "....Used to feel sometimes like everyone was... busy finding all their serendipity back before I even, uh, knew the site everyone uses now was a thing that existed. Like I was... just too late to ever be anything important, to anyone, even as a friend..." Tavros said, a little too off-handedly. Sometimes it still felt that way, except for Gamzee, but he usually tried to remind himself that that was probably the horrible gray creep of depression talking, and not actual reality. "..But don't stop trying, is the point, mostly. Like you, uh, said, it's not too late unless you quit trying..."

fiduspawn-master: Tavros nodded slowly as he listened. Yes, that was pretty much exactly how he felt about it. Maybe though, if another version of himself could overcome it, (albeit, a way cooler more interesting and less broken version of himself, but, that wasn't a helpful thought to have) Then maybe he could too.

"Yeah, Okay... Thank you. Uhm, I'm glad that you understand, Even though, I'm also sorry that you understand..."

ad1ostoreador: "It's... one of the good things, I think, about there being... so many versions of so many worlds, out there... the odds are probably, um, pretty good that somebody understands just about anything... yeah?" He tried for a small and crooked smile, shrugging.

fiduspawn-master: Tav mirrored the lopsided smile with another small nod. "Heh, Yeahhh... Uhm... Sorry, Things got kind of heavy. I hope this visit hasn't just been really terrible." he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck again awkwardly. "Maybe, If you ever wanted to come by again, We could do something actually fun?"

ad1ostoreador: "It's fine, really... and, that would be a thing that we could, uh, do... or... you could come visit our planet, sometime, if you wanted?" Beach sand might not agree with wheels, so well, but the 'social' hive had smooth, solid floors and lots of open space to maneuver. "I think you would like to meet the, uhh, oggos a lot..."

Tavros couldn't help one more furtive glance over at the small lusus at the other end of the couch, and swallowed.

fiduspawn-master: "Oh, Yes! Uhm, Gamzee mentioned there were new kinds of beasts there, And it sounded really beautiful also!" He brightened up a bit at the idea, his hands relaxing in his lap. "That would be fun."

The fairy bull had curled up once it became clear it was going to be ignored by the new troll, and was dozing off, shimmery wings folded down against its back. "Uhm... Do you want to take some with you?" Tav asked, seeing him eyeing the lusus again. "There's, Uhh, A good sized herd around right now, You could probably take enough to start breeding them, If you wanted." He was still working under the assumption that he simply missed the general presence of fairy bulls.

ad1ostoreador: For a moment, he froze, then slowly shook his head. "...I think... it would just, um, make me think more about missing mine, probably... a lot." He shut his eyes briefly. "...How did you, uh, get a robot fairy bull, anyway?"

fiduspawn-master: He bit his lip and nodded a little "Yeah, Okay, Sorry. It is definitely always really hard when they die, I can't imagine there not being more to come and replace them..." he mumbled before glancing back at the shiny white fairybot. "Oh, Uhm, That was, Uhh, Bull. He kind of changed the one that was taking care of me, So that they could always be monitoring me, and, the thing that he did to make my legs not be hurting pretty much all of the time, Since, I didn't want any of the robot stuff to be in my sponge..." He patted the fairybot a little more tentatively "I guess that it's okay, Since, They still are happy.”

ad1ostoreador: Tavros was very quiet, for a few more beats, and then quirked a quarter-smile that mostly looked like it hurt. "There was just... the one, for me. When I was younger. He... always acted like he missed other fairy bulls, but... there weren't any more wild ones nearby, not for leagues and leagues... and nobody rust was allowed more than one lusus. Even if they were... really small."

The thought of anyone just being changed that way, even a lusus, still made something roll over unsettled in his stomach, but he let out a breath. "...I'm glad he, uh... helped your legs not hurt."

fiduspawn-master: Tavros frowned as his alter spoke, his ears drooping. "Oh man... I'm so sorry, That must have been, Really hard..." he mumbled, his eyes wandering to Tinkerbull as he twisted the ring around his finger. "Uhm, Yeah, I'm glad too, And that, That is all that he did, Also..."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros couldn't help a small, wry, but real-er smile, at that. "Yeah... He really, um, likes the... robot stuff. But... he won't do it, if you remind him not to..." He shrugged slightly. "And if you don't want to, uh... be like that."

fiduspawn-master: "Yeahhhh... He was really sorry for, Uhm, Freaking me out afterwards. He just, Really wanted to help... I think, That I just don't want to not be me..." His jaw tightened slightly as his hands smoothed back over his blanket "Even if, Me, Isn't as cool or smart, Or, Really confident, As I guess he could have made me..." He trailed off, eyes downcast.

ad1ostoreador: "I think... for him, he didn't feel like himself until he went all... robot. So... he has a hard time, maybe, understanding people who don't feel like themselves because they've been made a robot...." Tavros added, quietly.

"...He does try really hard to help, though. And... I think you are already pretty cool, and smart, what with being all, uh... an illegal rebel, hiding on-planet, and... building fakespawn, and stuff that I don't have any idea how to do, but you do it really well. And... the fact that you are still alive, when... most everything on Alternia is designed to, um, try to prevent that. And you're away from her..." Which was a big thing, all by itself.

fiduspawn-master: He huffed, reaching up to fiddle with his hair again. "Uhmmm, I don't know, About all of that stuff... But, I don't really need to be anything special..." He gave a half hearted shrug "I think that I will just probably always be the same, Until..." He trailed off again before shaking his head, finally looking up at his alt with a strained laugh "Hah, Wow, This is all pretty depressing to talk about! Uhm, We could definitely probably be talking about things that are not that!"

ad1ostoreador: From where Tavros was standing, it already looked like a few major changes, from the pupa they'd once been. He didn't argue the point further, though, just giving his head a little shake. "Sorry... you should definitely, um, come visit sometime soon, though." He had the beginnings of the inklings of an idea, even.

fiduspawn-master: "It's okay! And, Yes! I think I would like that a lot, If you guys felt like it." he said as he kept up the smile a little more naturally. "I can't wait to try the chocolate you brought also, I can't remember the last time I got to have any!"

ad1ostoreador: "It's like... a tree-fungus, where we are. It grows on their stemrinds, on certain types... and it tastes just like chocolate. Not the, uh, over-sweet candy type hivestem stuff, but the real stuff." Tavros might have been rambling a little, for the sake of a topic that didn't sting. "I use it in, um... hot cocoa, and spicy huskbean stew, and some other things..."

fiduspawn-master: "Oh wow! That sounds like an amazing thing to have grow where you live! Hah, Man, I don't have a lot of stuff to make spicy food with, I wish I was better at cooking fancy stuff..." he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

ad1ostoreador: "I don't know that anything I make is, uh, fancy... it's all just... country, um, warmblood type food, but..." It was still a conscious effort, for Tavros, to remember to say 'warm' and not 'low', sometimes. To avoid sliding back into old, Alternian habits, like they might inadvertently stain their new planet with the leavings of the old. But he was trying. Gamzee was more of a stickler about it than he, even. "We're not that far into the cool season, I think... but for now, there's lots of food to find, still."

fiduspawn-master: "I'm glad to hear that! I have been, Uhhh, Saving a lot of food. I dug out a whole nutrition cellar last sweep, After the drones managed to damage my windmill, And, I lost power for, Like, A perigee, And all my food went bad..." He shook his head again and shrugged "But, I have learned a lot about preserving food now, And, I have plenty of it stored up for the dim season!" he continued cheerily. "It was definetly worth all the work, Heh."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros nodded, brow furrowing at the tale. "Oh... no. Do you, um, have enough power back now, I hope...?" He looked up.

"We, uh... had to kind of learn some things suddenly. About preserving fish. These... whartlebeasts came through our, uh, bay, and I think they were just migrating, but.... they feed by crowding everything up into the shallows, and just taking big gulps as they go by. So... we had fish flopping up on the beach, fish all over the place... and the oggos were, uh... having a very... messy blast with it all. " He snorted a half-laugh. "...We started smoking excess fish, then. Or it would have just... stunk everything up terribly."

fiduspawn-master: He nodded "Oh, Yeah! The power cells are all full up after the storm last light! I, Uhh, Wish I could get more to store more power, For emergencies, But, That would be kind of hard." he admitted.

He smiled at the mental image of all the beasts, laughing with his alt and grinning "Hah, That sounds so fun! And a great way to get a lot of food, Heh,"

ad1ostoreador: "Definitely... I mean, raking the sand clean after it all wasn't fun, but... feeling the whartles was... sort of like with skywhales, only all heavy and rough-shelled, and staying in the water, and just, um, thinking deep cool thoughts, as they paddle along..." He raked a hand through his shaggy hair.

"I'm sure there's people online who, um, would trade more power cells, for something you can make, or else find, around here..."

fiduspawn-master: His eyes sparkled as he smiled wide, imagining the unfamiliar beasts. "Wow!!! I hope I get to see them, If I come over, Heheh,"

He leaned back in his chair, looking to his husktop on the table "Uhm, Yeah, It's been kind of hard to trade for things that are that big and heavy, And, Also expensive...."

ad1ostoreador: "I don't... know much about that kind of thing, really, but there are definitely people who can find that stuff." He shifted his wings a little, with a crickety, papery rustle. "You, uh... said that drones broke the windmill, before? How did... that happen? I mean... without them doing worse...."

fiduspawn-master: "Uhhh, I think that it was just really unlucky? Since, They came in the day, And, No beasts spotted them coming until it was too late. They managed to tear off two of the blades before I could organize enough beasts to fend them off. Usually, They will leave a hive alone if it seems to have become a, Uhm, Lusus den..." That had been a very difficult few perigees, with no power and not much food, having to work all night every night to rebuild the windmill, and then to dig a nutrition cellar after that. The beasts had helped of course, but there was only so much that they could do...

ad1ostoreador: Tavros grimaced slightly. He might have been off Alternia for sweeps, but the prospect of fending off determined drones with stray lusii and wild beasts was none too appealing. "...It's good that you were able to, uh... drive them away, before they did more than that... and that you were able to fix it, and do all that work, after..."

fiduspawn-master: He nodded solemnly before smiling with a small chuckle "There have not been a lot of fly bys for the last couple of perigees though, I think I have managed to mostly, Uhhh, scare them off from this area!" His smile spread into a big, slightly smug grin. "I managed to find a beast that they will always steer clear of!!"

ad1ostoreador: "Good... good. That's... definitely better than the alternative." Tavros's ears flicked, cupping curiously towards him. "Oh yeah? What kind of, um, beasts will they stay away from, around here?"

fiduspawn-master: He leaned forward a bit in his chair, coppery eyes sparkling with excitement "Do you want to see?? You have to promise not to look, Though, Or to feel for them either! It will be a really cool surprise that way!!"

ad1ostoreador: Tavros nodded slowly, a mixture of anticipation and puzzlement on his features. It was hard to rein in his automatic level of communing and then deliberately try not to think about it, though. Harder yet to not think about the thing he was supposed to not think about. "Uhhh..." He tried shutting his eyes, and just focusing on the sleepy soothcoon and the flittering, too-familiar feel of the fairy bull in the vicinity, instead. "...Okay..."

fiduspawn-master: Tavros giggled, giddy as he turned to the wall of windows, putting a hand to his temple briefly to focus and find the beast he was seeking. They were pretty far away, but that didn't matter, it would only take a couple of minutes for them to get here. In the meantime he tugged at the blackout curtains to reveal the open, rolling fields outside, the wind still making the grass ripple like waves. He could feel them approaching, and he turned to go back to his alt, grabbing one of his hands to guide him over to the window "Here! They're about to land!"

A shadow blocked out the rosy moonlight for a moment before with a heavy thud, a gleaming, white dragon, nearly the size of a galleon, landed in the grass just outside. "Tadh! Heh, This, Is my new friend, Who has scared away most of the drones!" Tavros announced, throwing out an arm towards the huge lusus. “Uhh, Here." Reaching out, he pulled open one of the windows which was actually a door. "You want to meet them?"

ad1ostoreador: Tavros kept his eyes shut, even when he was tugged closer to the window, until his counterpart called out. Then.... Oh. That was... that was an actual real live adult dragon, of a sort he'd never encountered on his own Alternia, Terezi's sleeping unhatched lusus notwithstanding. For a moment, he could almost taste an echo of the smell of burning tissue, but it wasn't real and it wasn't here and nobody was creep-crawling through his pan. And that was a dragon.

"....Yes... uhh, yes, can I?" The question was half to his alternate, and half to the massive creature itself. It was only proper to be polite, of course, when meeting someone new.

fiduspawn-master: On closer inspection, although large, the dragon was still technically an adolescent, its eyes still sealed shut though a dull red glow was visible through the lids. By way of answer Tavros simply wheeled out the door ahead of his alt and moved to the side.

The dragon turned its massive head towards both of them, nostrils flaring as it sniffed them out. It- she, was friendly, if a little aloof, showing a little more interest in the winged stranger than the one who'd called her.

ad1ostoreador: "...She's beautiful," he breathed, stepping out the door and shrugging his poncho off with a quick slip of a fastening that let him spread his wings and give them a flick or two to stretch. He approached the dragon, fearlessly, to be sniffed to any degree she liked, and reached up to scritch gently along a seam of fine scales on her jaw.

"I bet even the drones definitely, uh, don't really want to pick a fight with her, do they...?" Tavros paused, gazing up at the dragon's bulk. "...Was she Terezi's? Or...?"

fiduspawn-master: "Heh, Yeah," he agreed with a smile that faltered when he looked to his alt and saw him shrugging off the poncho he'd been wearing, seeing the wings in person for the first time. Oh... That was a little worse than a mirthhive mirror. He wanted to look away but he also didn't.

The dragon lowered her head, longer than a troll was tall, giving Tavros a more thorough sniffing. An uncomfortable heat radiated from her closed eyes and she generally kept them angled away from both trolls so they wouldn't be seared by the proximity. Her scales were hot too, at least on her head, almost too hot to touch.

Tav was still staring at his alt, only snapping out of it when addressed "Oh! Uhmm, I kind of think that she probably was, Since, They are so rare, It is pretty likely, But, She is kind of, uhhh, Cagey, About information regarding herself..."

ad1ostoreador: He kept the touch light and careful, skimming shy of burning his fingers on the heat of the dragon's scales. "I don't know how, uh, fast they grow, after hatching..." It was hard to tell, with some of the megafauna. Some would shoot up in a couple of seasons... others just inched larger incrementally from sweep to sweep. "She feels... strong. How long ago did you meet her...?"

fiduspawn-master: "I'm not sure either, But, I don't think she's too old..." He stayed back a bit, letting his alter interact with the magnificent beast on his own. "Uhm, Maybe six perigees ago? She was just, Flying along the coast, And I brought her in to get to know her a little bit... She has been coming to help me with the drones every now and then since then..."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros looked from the dragon to his alternate, and back, not speaking for a moment. Like any psi-active troll, if his powers were pushed hard enough, even his eyes would visibly glow... but for a mere touch of mental communication exchanged with the beast, in the form of a polite query, the flicker was so muted and brief that it would pass unseen. Had she ever flown with a passenger? And more importantly, would the gracious lady be willing to?

fiduspawn-master: She returned an affirmative, followed by the mental equivalent of a nonchalant shrug. Not opposed.

Tavros noticed his alt looking between him and the dragon, simply raising an eyebrow. "Uhhh..."

ad1ostoreador: He grinned then, fangy and bright. "...Have you, uhh, gone flying with her, before?"

fiduspawn-master: His eyes widened "Oh, Uhm, Like, Riding her? No I, Definitely haven't done that..." He looked to the dragon's imposing bulk and, yeah, that would have been a bit of a climb to get up there, and those claws were maybe a bit too sharp to safely hold a troll...

ad1ostoreador: "Then... that is a thing we are going to do, because I can definitely help you get up there, and also back down again," Tavros announced, beaming... then hesitated. "If... if you want to, I mean...?"

fiduspawn-master: His mouth hung open a moment as he looked at his alter, and then the dragon. "O-oh, I-... Yeah, I, I think that I would like that..." he said, a little quietly, giving him a nervous smile.

ad1ostoreador: Good. It just wasn't right, somehow, for any of their bloodline to be entirely ground-bound. He moved forward, coaxing and coordinating with the dragon to lower her stance, to position one foreleg just so, outstretched for potential support, and reached out to offer his alternate both hands, for a solid forearm-to-forearm-locked grip. His wings spread wider and tilted against a gust of the sea wind, and a strange, faint, smaller set of rust-orange phantom wings shimmered into being with them, almost like a flapstraction's holographic overlay. There was a hint of blue shimmer at the edges of his clothes, too, but his actual, real clothing stayed firmly where it belonged. (He really was emphatically not a fan of his godtier's default cut, or of having that much of his legs exposed, even sweeps and a pupation after the fact.)

"What I can do, is lift you up over her shoulder, and, uh, set you down between her neck-ridges. Slowly. Okay...?"

fiduspawn-master: He watched for a second as his guest conversed with the dragon before jolting slightly in realization, looking down at his lap. Oh, this probably wouldn't work, how could he keep them wrapped up? He didn't want him to have to see-- not after Bull's reaction had been so bad. Dang it, why did he have to prefer the comfort and convenience of shorts? He was so preoccupied he totally missed his alter's subtle transformation, rolling his chair backwards towards the door again. "Uhhhhh, Do you think, You could maybe, Uhm, Wait a couple of minutes? Uhh, Sorry, I just, Have to do something really quick!"

ad1ostoreador: "Okay, uh... no problem. No rush." Tavros lowered his hands again, no longer braced to lift off, and instead rubbed the back of his own neck, then raked his hair out of his eyes, where the wind had blown it around wildly.

fiduspawn-master: Tavros retreated quickly inside, emerging after a few minutes, blanket discarded and long pants donned. There was still a hint of, visible mishapenness to them, but the pants were baggy enough to hide most of it.

He rolled back over to his alter, smiling awkwardly "Uhh, Hey, Sorry about that, I'm ready now I guess?"

ad1ostoreador: Well, it wasn't as though Tavros would judge his alternate for the shape his legs were in... he just had lingering sensitivities about his own. This time, he sprang up off the ground to get his wings beating fast enough to hover, as he would have to back on his own planet, then furrowed his brow, dipped closer to Tavros's chair, and offered his hands again, as the weird holo-overlay wing effect remained perfectly, ornamentally still, and his flight steadied from a hover into something more like a gravity-free float. Godtier nonsense and physics were not always on the best of terms, and occasionally resulted in the latter presumably throwing its metaphorical hands up and wandering away for a stiff drink.

"Here..."

fiduspawn-master: No longer distracted, he watched his other self take to the air, making it look so, natural and effortless, then, maybe a little unnatural, but still effortless.

Swallowing, he nodded and reached up to firmly grasp his arm, letting himself be pulled out of his chair. He still winced, even though he knew it wouldn't hurt, it was just a hard habit to break at this point.

ad1ostoreador: It was slow. Easier than it should have been, even as the muscles in Tavros's arms went taut and he lifted them, as smoothly as a balloon drifting up from the chair and angling upwards along the dragon's shoulder, dangling feet not skimming her scales, but barely above them. He stopped, when his alternate was suspended neatly over the notch in her neckridges, then carefully, carefully hovered him lower, prepared to hold his weight up one-armed if need be until the other troll had gotten his legs arranged to his satisfaction.

"...All set?" Given the affirmative, he would lower him the last few inches, to settle his weight there safely.

fiduspawn-master: He clung to his alter's arm, pulling his legs up a bit to keep them from just dangling as he was airlifted over to the dragon's back and gently lowered down. The scales were still hot but not burning like they were on her head, and he settled himself, reaching forward to hold on tightly to one of the neck ridges and looking up at Tavros with a nod. "Yeah, I'm good I think..."

ad1ostoreador: Tavros grinned, broad and pleased, and went from that odd drifting float to wing-buzzing flight again, lifting higher against a gust of wind and hovering near the dragon's head as he called her to take to the sky. "Hang on, okay?"

fiduspawn-master: He didn't need to be told twice, bracing himself and connecting to the dragon in order to anticipate her movements and better keep balance. She sensed his readiness, standing and turning away from his hive to face the cliffs, starting at a trot to gain speed. The trot turned to a gallop as her wings spread, tilting to catch the wind as they launched themselves off of the high cliff and took to the air.

Tavros was hanging on for dear life, the ride quite bumpy while she was still on the ground. His stomach flipped as she jumped, his breath catching in his throat as the ride turned into a soaring sensation. He finally managed to gasp before letting out a whoop, laughing and hanging on as she tilted upwards to start gaining altitude with mighty wingbeats.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros angled for an updraft and soared higher, circling above the massive sweep of her wings to keep an eye on his alternate and a light thread of communing-sense on the dragon... nothing harsh enough to vie with her rider's. "Isn't it great?" he called, hands cupped to his mouth to carry over the wind. There was nothing quite like flying, and doing it on the back of an actual dragon probably counted for like... nine thousand extra coolness points, all by itself.

fiduspawn-master: Tav couldn't stop smiling as he kept low to the dragon's back, hanging on as she climbed higher. He could barely hear over the rushing wind, but he glanced over at the flash of bronze, fluttering wings, laughing and letting go with one hand to pump his fist in the air in clear confirmation.

ad1ostoreador: A whoop that he might have learned from Gamzee, and Tavros made a dizzying swoop to plunge past the flying beast's outstretched neck, beneath her, then fight his way up again, grinning wildly and thoroughly windblown. It wasn't often that he got to play midair with anyone but flapbeasts, especially someone who really appreciated the experience, and he was going to enjoy every minute of this while it lasted.

fiduspawn-master: He quickly grabbed on again, watching Tavros dive and swoop as the dragon evened out her angle of ascent. She let the currents catch in her wings like sails and slowly banked back towards the land again. Now she wasn't flying upwards, Tavros could finally sit up and look around, seeing the sea spread out and glittering below in the moonlight, and his hive, tiny in the distance, standing alone. He spread out his arms to feel the wind rushing past his whole body and took a deep breath of rarefied air. It tasted and smelled better than anything he could ever remember, and he let his eyes close briefly so he could just savor the moment.

ad1ostoreador: It was the kind of moment Tavros was content to let play out, for as long as his counterpart needed it. He kept pace with the dragon's flight, alternating diving glides with fluttering spirals higher, and maybe a brief game of something like tag, even, with subtle gusts of wind rising up to carry him along when he wasn't thinking too hard about it.

fiduspawn-master: The dragon flew in slow arcs, like a gentle roller coaster, nothing too fancy or fast in consideration for her rider. Tav laughed giddily, especially on the descents, relishing the weightless feeling as he clung to her back. Eventually she was flying over his hive and he let her start a slow, circular descent so that she could land, not wanting to push his luck with the magnificent beast. She wasn't his lusus or anything, and he already appreciated her helping with the drones. also he could feel his thighs and behind getting uncomfortably hot from her scales, probably should have thrown his blanket over her back or something.

ad1ostoreador: Tavros followed the dragon downward, there, grinning as they descended, and he would finally still into that physics-gone-slightly-flipped-sideways floaty hover, once she had come to a complete landing stop. "I can, uhh... lift you back down, the same way, if that's okay...?"

fiduspawn-master: Tha dragon hunkered down onto her belly once she'd gently landed, getting low to make dismounting easier. Tav squirmed a little in his seat, looking up to his alt and nodding quickly as he extended a hand "Uhhh, Yes please. Thanks."

ad1ostoreador: Once again, Tavros got a firm hold on his forearm--or both of them, if he offered the other, and then floated him up and off the dragon's neckridge, to carefully airlift him back to his chair, giving him time to get his legs situated before he set him completely down. "All, um, good?"

fiduspawn-master: He held on with both hands, looking down as he was taken back to his wheeled device. He settled back in easily enough, shifting in his chair as he let go of his alt. He looked up at him with a smile, giving him a thumbs up "Yeah, Thanks!" The dragon was getting up again, sniffing around casually.

"Heh, Man, That was... Wow, Heh"

ad1ostoreador: Tavros was still grinning, looking pleased and a bit relieved all at once, that his counterpart had both enjoyed the experience and not inadvertently injured himself in the process. He dropped back to the ground, himself, landing on his feet and folding his wings back with a bit of a sigh to avoid being pushed about by the wind. The phantom shimmer of a second set of wings evaporated, a moment later. "Yeah... I'm glad she didn't mind," he added, looking up at the dragon with a grateful wave.

fiduspawn-master: She sniffed in his direction before starting to wander off, preparing to lift off again and go back to whatever she'd been doing before.

"Heh, Yeahhh, Me too." He agreed, watching her start to take off, smiling wistfully.

ad1ostoreador: "I guess you do have a pretty, uh... thorough anti-drone defense system..." He, also, watched the huge beast abscond, though not with quite the same note of wistfulness.

fiduspawn-master: "Heh, Well, It's definitely, Uhhh, Better than it used to be." he hummed, finally tearing his eyes away from the quickly shrinking white dot in the sky to smile at his guest. "Uhm, Thanks for helping me, That was really great..."

ad1ostoreador: "No problem... I'm glad it was fun," Tavros said, smiling back. He'd had the inklings of the idea, and then the dragon had presented herself as an immediate opportunity. It was certainly a welcome distraction from the faint, nagging itch of Gl'bgolyb's presence on this planet. "Maybe we could, uh... do that again sometime..."

fiduspawn-master: "Yeah! Heh, But maybe, Uhh, Not too soon" She wasn't exactly a tame hoofbeast or anything. There was a faint redness along the horizon that hinted at the dawn that would come in the next few hours, and Tavros turned to head back inside now the dragon was out of sight.

(there was something a little different about that itch here too, less eldritch, more predatory, no less uncomfortable, especially this close to the sea.)

ad1ostoreador: Tavros nodded, glancing out toward that tint of color in the sky. It was amazing how fast being back on Alternia, even for a visit, could remind him that the day was something to fear, not something to greet. He moved to follow his alternate back inside the hive, picking up his poncho to re-secure it, on the way. "I should, um, probably head back soon, I think..." He had one more stop off-planet to make, too. Two if he braved an excess of crowding strangers to find Gamzee a better coat, while he was at it.

fiduspawn-master: Tavros spun around to face him, looking up at him with a slanted smile "Oh, Heh, Yeahhh, probably, It is getting pretty early." he acknowledged, glancing at the row of windows before rolling back over to start closing the curtains. "Uhh, Thank you for coming though! This was, Really nice... Oh, And I hope that Gamzee likes his present!" He added, looking back over his shoulder at him.

ad1ostoreador: "I'm sure he will," Tavros assured him, double-checking to make sure he'd put the fabric-wrapped little package in his sylladex. It was there, as was the pot he'd come to collect, and he returned that smile crookedly. "I'll, uh, see you around, yeah? It was really nice to meet you in person..."

fiduspawn-master: He finished with the curtains and turned to face his alt as he was leaving, smiling more warmly and raising a hand in farewell. "Yes! See you around, Uhh, Tavros, Heh, It was nice to meet you too, And, Not as weird at the end."

ad1ostoreador: It was clearly necessary to offer a fist for a proper fist-bunp, there. "Definitely not as weird at the end," he agreed, then gave a little wave of his own, and looked down to fiddle with the device on his wrist. A moment later... fworp, and he was gone the same way he'd arrived.

fiduspawn-master: The fistbump was easily reciprocated and he watched his guest vanish into thin air.

#narration mode #fiduspawn master

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yourdeepestfathoms · 4 years

Text

Caged Birds Don’t Sing -Chapter One-

The following AU includes, but not limited to: Bird wings. Monsters. Depression and lots of pain! I’m just jumping right in, y’all, and this chapter goes from zero to a hundred real quick

TW: Blood, vomit, violence

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Chapter One

Phoenix Tears Can’t Heal All Pain

Sometimes bad things just happen to good people. Sometimes fate just has other plans for someone. In Bessie’s case, that was very much true.

Elizabeth “Bessie” Blount had been missing for a year and a half. She was remembered for her sardonic, but soft demeanor and skillful talent at playing the bass, since she had been apart of the band for the musical Six. All of the cast knew her, which is why her disappearance hit them so hard.

By now, mostly everyone has moved on.

The funeral was an open casket with just photos and one of her basses inside. It was hard to look at, painful even. The idea that she was still alive, since her body was never found, came about, but it has been dropped for awhile.

Bessie became a mere memory in the back of the cast’s mind.

It’s November, now. Fall was coming into full bloom. It was Anne’s idea to go to the park on their day off, and everyone obliged, knowing that the trip would be a good chance to stretch their wings. Joan branched off from them to venture further into the forest, since she preferred the silence rather than the ruckus the cousins and Maggie were making. She spread her dappled white snowy owl wings and breathed out a sigh of bliss. This always felt amazing. It was like rolling around in molten gold.

Rustling snapped her out of her trance. Deer jumped out of the underbrush and rushed right past Joan, causing her to jump away and fall on her back. Her wings thrust outwards in surprise and she laughed a little before realizing the odd behavior of the animals. Deer normally didn’t run towards a person.

They ran away.

Joan pushed herself up and brushed herself off, ruffling out her feathers to rid them of any dirt. She was still pondering why the deer were acting so weirdly when she heard it.

The squeaking.

Curious and concerned, she tiptoed forward and peeked through the brush. There, only a few feet away, was a doe lying in a pool of its own blood. Its stomach was ripped open, but it was still alive, like whatever had killed it wasn’t interested in eating at the moment. The sight made Joan’s veins turn icy in fear.

What did this?

When she found out, she wished she had just ran off with the rest of the herd.

Growling came to the left. A tall, bulky creature emerged from its hiding spot in the trees, perching on a branch with long, curved talons. It had molted grey skin and bug-like eyes. Multiple rows of teeth poked out of its maw, dripping with some kind of creamy fluid. The barb at the end of its tail was just as menacing as its seven-inch claws. When it noticed Joan, it exhales a low hissing breath.

WingEaters. A avian’s natural enemy. From the name, these monsters eat a person’s wings to gain some of their own. They were ruthless, bloodthirsty predators that stop at nothing to feed.

Joan flung her wings open but it was too late; the monster was upon her. There’s a terrible pain- everything goes black when she hits that tree.

Joan wakes up on the ground.

No. Wait. Waking up implied she was in a bed, at home, safe.

Joan came to.

She’s lying face-down on the ground, mouth full of dirt. There’s a metallic tang on her tongue- she’s frothing red at the lips.

Joan lifts her head up and coughs out gritty clots of scarlet. She sees the WingEater hunched over a few feet away, distracted by something. This was her only chance to get away so she crawls. She crawls until she could finally force herself to stand up and run.

She staggered back towards the park. Someone screams. Multiple people scream. Jane is covering her mouth in shock- but why? Anne is shielding Katherine’s eyes, Parr has backed herself up into Aragon’s arms, Maggie looks like she’s about to faint...

Joan’s knees are wobbling and her vision keeps blurring with a blizzard of white. She can’t focus on anything. She attempted to speak, to ask what was wrong, but only blood floods out. Deliriously, she dabs her fingertips against her lips and stare in bewilderment when they came back red, like she was just now noticing her body violently ejecting its own fluids. Out of the corner of her eye she notices Anna, maybe Maria, sprint somewhere- where was she going?

Joan couldn’t follow, couldn’t ask what was going on. Her legs give out. She drops into a pool of her own blood.

It wasn’t the deer that WingEater was eating.

———

The Flightless. That’s what people who have lost their ability to fly are called. That’s what Joan is now sorted into.

The doctors spent six hours trying to stabilize Joan. Eventually, they got the bleeding to stop- it was a lot of blood for one body- and stitched up the gash, but nothing could bring back the wing that was ripped off.

Joan would never fly again.

When she woke up, she cried. Joan shivered and sobbed and had bad panic attacks. The anguish was blinding- the pain was worse. Even with the antibiotics, she was overwhelmed by white hot agony that seared up through her back, ripping her apart from the inside out.

Her world was crashing down.

She hadn’t realized the damage at first. She was in a severe state of shock when she came hobbling into the park, clothing drenched in her own blood. People who had witnessed it said she looked extremely dazed and completely out-of-it, unaware of the gore she was soaked in, unaware that her back was spitting like a spigot. She just kept asking herself why. Why her? Why did this have to happen to her? What did she ever do?

When she was released from the hospital, Joan went home and lied in her bed for six Joan. For six days she suffered. She didn’t eat, barely drank anything. Maria or Maggie had to basically force just about everything down her throat.

Her wingmates...

Joan doesn’t know what she would have done without them. Probably would have dehydrated herself. Their care was nice, even on that one horrid night.

Maria wasn’t too sure what woke her up exactly. A gut feeling, perhaps? All she knew is that something made her get out of bed and walk into the hallway. Light was seeping in from the bathroom. Inside, Joan was on her hands and knees, panting heavily, clutching fistfuls of the shaggy shower carpet. Her shirt was discarded in the sink, revealing her milky-yellow, sweat-soaked flesh and the ugly scar on her back. She didn’t look to be comfortable in the slightest, as her muscles were contracting violently and her bra strap appeared to be digging into taut her skin. Not that she had the energy to wrestle with the clasp right now, though.

“Joan?” Maria called out, standing in the doorway.

She saw the fledgling’s entire body tense up. Joan is trying not to move but she’s trembling too badly.

“Honey?” Maria tried again, “You okay? What’s wrong?”

She wasn’t okay. Of course she wasn’t okay- what kind of question was that?

Maria slowly walked over and knelt down, setting a hand on the small of the owl’s back. She could feel her shivering, along with her spasming muscles underneath her damp skin. The touch caused Joan to jump a little, but she didn’t scamper away. Maria thinks she doesn’t have the energy to.

“How long have you been like this?” Maria asked. She’s making an effort not to look in the toilet, as she’s sure her bandmate has already exhausted herself by emptying her stomach into it.

“I....ah...hours?” Joan meekly replied with slurred words. Her voice was weak and hoarse.

Hours? Guilt pools in the back of Maria’s throat.

Joan lifts her head and shudders. A painful spasm ripped through her remaining wing and her response to it was by slamming her forehead into the toilet seat. Maria’s heart clenched a little when she realized she was probably trying to knock herself out.

...Did it really hurt that much?

“Sweetheart, don’t do that,” The drummer chided softly, slipping her hand down to lift Joan’s head up. The answer she got was an incoherent mumble that morphed into a tight whimper.

“M-Mari-”

“It’s alright. Just get it out of your system. I’m going to go wake up-”

Joan grabbed Maria by the wrist, holding on with a death grip. She didn’t look at her, too humiliated to make eye contact, but still refused to be alone like this. Thank God the woman understood so she didn’t have to pathetically mewl it out loud.

“Okay. I’m staying. I won’t go anywhere.”

Joan wanted to thank her, she really did, but bile rose up in her throat and she gathered enough energy to push herself up to avoid vomiting all over herself.

Maria holds her hair out of the way, rubbing her hand gently across the top of her back. Her fingers trail down and pushed up the clasp of Joan’s bra to look at the gash it was pressing into.

“Ho, Jesus, sweetie, this- I can see why you’re in here.”

No wonder Joan decided to take off her shirt. The edges looked raw from the material constantly rubbing against it, practically glowing neon pink. Dried blood and pus crusted over the stitches, which were straining to simply hold the wound together. Her back had become a labyrinth of purple and yellow- the pain she must have been in was unfathomable.

“Shouldn’t this be wrapped up? Did the doctor not bandage it? I swear to god I’m going to shove a broomstick so far up his-”

Joan’s small whimper halted Maria and she shut her mouth.

“No, he- I- ” She coughed and then wheezed.

“Don’t speak.” Maria shushed her gently, “We’ll worry about that later. For now- I’m going to try and clean this, okay, honey? It might be a little more comfortable.”

Joan doesn’t have the energy to resist. Simply being a foot away from her wingmate right now was disagreeable, so she was just happy to be around someone, even in these circumstances.

She finally looked up when Maria grabbed some things from the cabinets. There was deep shame in her eyes. She immediately pressed against the drummer when she knelt down again.

“Here, try lying down, okay? Just get comfortable.”

Joan obliged hesitantly and lays down with her burning forehead against Maria’s lap. She folds her wing around her bare arms, trying to get warmer.

“This is going to sting a little.”

Joan wasn’t expecting antiseptic. Her spine arched and she howled at the burning sensation.

Pressing down harder, Maria uses her other hand to brush back the fledgling’s bangs, hoping to help soothe her. When she lifts the towel, its covered in a thin film that’s the color of rust. Joan whimpers into her folded thighs, curling up like an injured cat.

Suddenly, manic footsteps stomp loudly down the hallway and the bathroom door is nearly thrown off its hinges. Maggie stands there in her pajamas, feathers ruffled, holding a lamp she must have yanked out of the wall socket. It got the tiniest laugh out of Joan, which unfortunately turned to a cough.

“I heard a scream.” Maggie said, lowering her weapon.

“People do that,” Maria chuckled lightly, “I’m just helping Joan wash off her back. The alcohol stung a little.”

The guitarist nodded.

“Do you need any help?”

“Can you get a glass of water and the antibiotics from downstairs?”

“Yeah, of course.” Maggie hurried back down the hallway with a flap of her Egyptian goose wings.

Maria looked back down at her wingmate- her little sister- and slowly embraced her. In the midst of all the mayhem and pain, the two of them share a quiet moment.

———

Joan recovered, but she didn’t get better. Not psychologically. That’s why her new psychiatrist prescribed her antidepressants. She didn’t think they worked.

Still, she eventually forced herself to get up. Even when it felt like someone had just ripped out her spine and proceeded to beat her into a pulp with it, she hauled her body off to work.

Without her other wing, though, her balance was completely thrown off. She stumbled around like a giraffe with broken legs, unable to stay upright. Not to mention all the stares she got.

The one-winged fledgling was a freak.

Her flock did their best to ward off gawkers, but they couldn’t always be there. Not when cockerels plucked out her feathers when she was at stage door or out near fans. Not when hens made snide remarks when they thought she couldn’t hear them. Not when other birds posted on social media about the flightless keyboardist in Six.

The anger and despair from it all simmered inside of Joan.

After school one day, Joan avoided the other ladies in waiting and the queens. She felt delirious and achy and just wanted to be alone.

Guided by the evening light, Joan stumbled upon a shack tucked in a circle of dense trees. She hadn’t even realized she had wandered into the forest, like she was just asking to have her other wing torn off. From inside of the abandoned building, she heard the rattle of metal and stupidly decided to check it out.

A WingEater. It wasn’t the one who had attacked her, this one was much smaller. Its skin was iridescent green and black, like the color of a blowfly. Big bright blue bug eyes blinked, pointy horns gleamed, big ears twitched, antenna felt around in the air. Unlike the other beast, this one is dressed in some kind of flesh-colored smock. It looks leathery, with smears of red and brown staining the material. Protective metal plates clasped around the limbs and stomach, linking together at the back. It almost looked like armor of sorts.

The icing on the cake, however, were the chains locked around the wrists.

Joan stared for a long time and then laughed harshly.

“Look at this. Trapped. On the ground. Like me.”

She walked up to it, grabbing a sharp rock for a weapon. The WingEater reels back into the corner.

“Your kind ruined my life.” The girl growled lowly. She raised her arm and the rock came down on the chains. “Go do the same thing to someone else. I don’t want to be the only one like this.”

She bashed the rusty chains, yelling and snarling as tears poured down her face. Eventually, they broke apart. Joan stumbled backwards, breathing heavily. The carnivorous monster stared up at her in bewilderment.

“Go!” Joan cried. “Go fuck up another person’s life! It’s all you creatures know how to do!”

The WingEater skitters by and jumped into the air. In the light of the sun’s descent, the feathers of a black-throated grey warbler shined beautifully in the background of twilight.

#wingeater au #six the musical #six the musical au #six the musical fanfiction #six the musical fanfic #catherine of aragon #anne boleyn #jane seymour #anna of cleves #katherine howard #catherine parr #joan on the keys #bessie on the bass #maria on the drums #maggie on the guitar #tw: blood #tw: vomit

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jonnysinsectcatalogue · 2 years

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Brown Marmorated Stink Bug (nymph) - Halyomorpha halys

This insect is approaching its adult stage where it will receive its wings and be able to fly around wherever it pleases (as long it has the energy to do so). Before that molt, it will have to rely on running to get where it needs to go, and so I have a small story to share with this individual. My mom was the one who actually found the insect at first and called me to see it. The young Stink Bug was seemingly trying to blend in with the patterns on the recliner to stay hidden while soaking in the sun. I picked it up to get a closer look and when done, placed it on the leaves seen in the pictures. It scampered up the leaf and down the stem. A few minutes pass, and the Bug is back on the top of the chair! Later, my mom picked it up and put it on the soil while tending to the yard’s plants. A few minutes later, it’s back on the chair! This is honestly astounding to me. It knew exactly where to go and got there very quickly. The running is fascinating enough, but the insect still needs to know where it’s going in order to get there. As I understand, Stink Bugs have reasonable vision to navigate the world, but I also think that his individual may have relied on environmental cues or scents to find its way back to the chair.

Since insect antennae function in some ways like noses, they may have been the key to finding that sunny spot. Not only are those antennae handy from sniffing the world, they are also handy for confirming the identity of the insect. Those alternating bands of black and white (one long, one short) are easily noticeable from the second instar all the way up to adulthood. Look for the bands and a mottled look across the abdomen and slight darkening at the leg joints. The nymphs also feature pairs of little yellow spots across their back which mostly disappear after the adulthood molt. Likely, this individual will reach that final molt around mid-August at the very latest. The new generation of adult Stink Bugs will then enjoy the summer and early autumn until conditions grow too cold. They will hideaway to overwinter and emerge in the spring to lay eggs and continue their own circle of life. However, sometimes the insides of homes (especially attics) is far more comfortable for them to wait out the winter than the outdoor soil. Keep an eye on your home’s nooks and crannies as winter approaches as a Stink Bug infestation can be quite a nuisance, especially to indoor. Fortunately, they are harmless to humans outside of their stink defenses.

Update (August 12, 2022): 3 more pictures have been added. In pictures 8-10, the nymph has darker coloration along the leg joints and was found probing the magnolia tree’s seed pods. With its mottled colors, it blends into the tree’s bark easily, but the underside color doesn’t match at all.

Pictures were taken on July 30 and August 12, 2022 with a Google Pixel 4. No humans or chairs were stunk up in the making of these pictures.

#jonny’s insect catalogue #ontario insect #stink bug #brown marmorated stink bug #brown marmorated stink bug nymph #true bug #hemiptera #heteroptera #insect #toronto #july2022 #2022 #stink bug nymph #august2022 #entomology #nature

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ultraclops · 4 years

Text

Semi-live Blogging: Return of the Mao Mao Episodes

Before we start, is it just me or is the animation like 10x smoother than it usually is? Also like I said with Nakey, there’s a lot more good expressions too!

Lucky Ducky Mug

Adorabat drinks from sippy cup like baby

"What, Mao Mao's ridiculous mug?" says Badgerclops, holding a cheap plastic big gulp cup he probably got from the grocery store.

How did Adorabat not notice the Lucky Ducky sticker on the Aerocycle

"Don't touch it" (Badgerclops proceeds to slam the table to move it) Ah Badgerclops, ever the contrarian

I'M SORRY DID MAO MAO BLOW THE ROOF OFF OF HQ BY SCREAMING

I love the way Mao says "PROFESSIONAAAL SILENCEEE"

Badgerclops trying to make his mouth disappear and failing made me scream with laughter

Are they seriously reducing Ratarang to 'the funny lil Italian guy'? C’mon guys you’re better than this

Wait why do they think Kevin is Adorabat?? They've seen Adorabat multiple times?? "But they're both blue!" You FOOL Kevin is TEAL there's a difference

Everybody gangsta til Mao Mao's ears start speaking morse code

They're doing surprisingly good silent but it's probably not gonna be that way very long.

Thank you, Lucky Ducky Mug, for catering to my niche interest in characters with neon outlines on black backgrounds.

Mao Mao thinking: Normal thoughts

Badgerclops thinking: Musical-esque singing

Adorabat thinking: Literally just heavy metal

The Sweetypies seriously think they're just playing a really intense game of charades huh,,,

(Mao jabs BC in the stomach with the fire net) HAHA GET REKT

The scene with Badgerclops trying to give Mao Mao Penny's mug is the funniest shit in the world I couldn't stop laughing...or maybe I'm just sleep-deprived

So the Sky Pirates are so similar compared to the Sheriff's Dept. that they can think perfectly in sync? That's cool

SKY PIRATES SONG SKY PIRATES SONG

Why is Snugglemagne throwing a random tea party & why did he only invite the Sheriff's Dept.

Yep there goes the plan. Both of their plans.

Am I going crazy or did the skin on Mao Mao's mouth tear apart like it was sewn shut?! Also yay they're talking again

"It's not gonna stop charging, so I'm just gonna let it explooode..." Mood

"What about the mega laser tube made by mega Losers?" Fsfhkfh

Hey, everyone learned something new from this experience! Are the Sky Pirates gonna try that Hive Mind tactic from now on?

Awww, they fixed his mug with gold - GOD DAMN IT I KNEW THERE WAS A CATCH!!

Lonely Kid

(Sighs) ...I said (SIGHS)

"I literally can't relate to that problem at all." says Badgerclops, who joined a gang because he wanted people to like him.

Shin just dropped off Mao Mao at a summer camp and expected him to make friends? Why does this feel like the plot of Camp Camp

I'm sorry the Mao clan has a freaking PARTY AERO-BUS??

NOO GERALDINE

That BGM is DEFINITELY an extended version of "I Love You, Mao Mao" and I want the lyrics NOW

So Bao was literally just a stray that Mao took home?? Would make sense as to why he wasn't trained

I have a feeling the Flimborg is some sort of sacred being the townspeople worship for some reason

How in the hell did Mao tie that guy up and why didn't he bother to untie him

HOW'D HE SET THE ROCKS ON FIRE USING PAINT

"And then you become frien-" "BEES. IN THE EYES."

"Everyone knows bees are our friends!" "Uh, actually, they were wasps." "Friends to no-one!" Usually I'd agree with BC, but I read an article about someone befriending a wasp and her babies so.

So the Mao clan's just known as the "Golden Cat Family Up The Hill?" Huh. I thought they’d have more recognition, especially since Shin says he went to that same summer camp at the beginning.

Man those kids are jackasses

"Say hi to your mommy!" "I would if she was here..." Excuse me wHAT

Noo don't cry baby boi - tHEN BAO JUST TACKLES HIM ASFHDKDL

"Go away! I don't feel like laughing right now!"

Look. You can see the EXACT point Mao developed his adult personality

I know Mao Mao means well but that is gonna go terribly wrong.

"I AM A HERO! I WILL BE LOVED!!" Okay first of all OUCH, second of all THAT IS PAIN

This monster empty, YEET

Awww it was just a sweet little puppy-ish monster...and it was his BIRTHDAY

"Hi, Aunt Gloria!" (Pulls out pitchfork) BETRAYAL

He didn't feel bad about ruining the festival because he made a friend doing it I 💞💞💝💝💗💗

Thanks for that 'different times' comment cuz I don't want kids thinking being beat is normal.

"Just like you found me...and I'm your best friend!" Tbh I thought she was gonna say 'Me and Badgerclops' & that would make a lot more sense

Why are they fighting over who's his best friend they're obviously BOTH his best friends

I'm sorry did Badgerclops just call Adorabat a "little mutant"?? ARE THE SWEETYPIES MUTANTS??

Awww his friends love him sm...and he feels so loved too...💓💓💗💗💕💕

Try Hard

No one gives a shit about Pinky being kidnapped lol

"K for Copyright Infringement"

"You'll never be like me!" Oof a little harsh maybe?

"You've gotta learn to be your own kind of hero, in your own special way!" So THAT'S where it's from

"You just gotta...try hard." Hey, title drop!

Ngl the moment Mao Mao said "Badgerclops take the shot" I immediately thought of The Confession 3 by TomSka

"Up in a tree, little old me, about to do something...UGLY..." 7-year-old me sniping people on Halo 3 like

Why is he shooting them with gelatin tho? ...oh. Oh THAT'S why.

Tbh if I didn't have subtitles on I would've thought BC was saying "beep boop"

This badger and cat empty, YEET

Adorabat walking into the Skyship with only a walkie-talkie is giving me some sort of vibes...OH, Silent Hill! Or Tattletail

WHOOP HIS ASS SWEETIE

"Mao Mao would hide the body!" Very unsubtle there, wonder how it got past censors

"Ratarang, say something!" "Pasketti?" "THAT'S THE BRAT!"

Wait a sec, they can just use Badgerclops' arm to power the ship? Why didn't they try that in CapturedClops?

"Good thing my head is in here cuz I'm a-scared of heights!" Ramaraffe. Whose whole schtick is making herself taller. Is acrophobic?

"Because she's Sheriff's Department, that's how! >:3" "Also y'all tend to be pretty incompetent >X/"

Why does she keep trying to use the elevator when she can fly? Nvm she climbed up Badgerclops' arm

"Ooooh I'm also hereeee"

"JERK BUTT"

Why is the Omega Field just a bunch of broken glass? And why doesn't she just step around it?

"I can fly!" "She can fly!" "SHE FORGOT?!" Ooh that's why

"You're the best thing to ever happen to a bat like me." 💝💝💕💕💓💓

Wait she's talking through the walkie-talkie and her molts are there but she isn't there where is she?

Oh she was freeing the other two from the gelatin. No wonder Mao Mao almost threw up, it was bug flavored.

GET HIS ASS, HONEY!! ADORASLAP!!

I hope that 'Nah' means Adorabat's realized she needs to be herself instead of her just rejecting her individuality like I think it is.

Scared Of Puppets

Oh, so this takes place after Sleeper Sofa! Praying it's a fix-it episode...

"DISCARD ANYTHING THAT DOESN'T BRING YOU JOY!!" Fuckin Marie Kondo up in here

Oh no PTSD flashbacks. He's scared of them cuz one's head landed on his lap as a kid? Understandable have a nice day.

Who tf collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor then leaps back up and insists they're fine? Mao Mao, apparently.

Hairless ape? Is that what they call humans or are they something different in general?

"TAKE ALL MY MONEY!!" What did BC want an antique puppet for if he had no idea Mao was scared of them...

Mr. Din Dandalib!

"I...(eye twitch) love him too..."

IM SORRY DID HE FUCKING THROW UP OUT OF FEAR...holy SHIT

If I scared my friend and they threw up I would simply never do that again. RIP to Badgerclops but I'm different

(Badgerclops makes concrete blocks around the pothole) "Why didn't you just fill in the pothole??" "I AM TRYING MY BEST!!"

"I SIGNED YOUR DUMB CAST, NOW LEAVE!!"

...Illegal house plants? ...like marijua-

That was literally just that one video where a guy knocked out another guy in a mask jumping out of a trash can...

So it's a CPR class...AND a hair-styling class? How

I stg the moment Badgerclops walked in the door I knew he was carrying Mr. Din Danalin I SWEAR

"You're 10." "BUT I'M 6??" JFC Shin doesn't know his own son's age AND is partially responsible for his pupaphobia. And I called it on Mao Mao being six in the flashbacks

OH WIG

Can someone take the footage of the Annex exploding and add the ReviewTechUSA intro over it please

"How many Adult Learning Annexes have to be destroyed before you admit you're scared of puppets?!" is extremely funny without context

(Mao punches the wall cuz hes mad at himself for being scared) Kinkinkinkinki

How does one forget to drink milk

Oh shit the scene from the promo...

Yay he's starting to feel less scared - wait NVM it JUST STARTED TALKING??

OG SGUTVKC FGCJ OG SHKR OF DJCN JKKKKK

Oh it was just a dream - er, nightmare. FIRST NIGHTMARE SEQUENCE OF THE SERIES!

"I just gotta get my socks on...wait, I wear socks, right?" Dud e you wear NOTHING BUT A BELT...

"I KNEW SELLING THOSE HAIRLESS APE DOLLS WOULD ATTRACT DARK FORCES"

"There’s a lot of pu-" "PUBLIC DANGER"

Those puppets are alive I stg

"I'M A BIG BOI..."

Awwww she said what he told her at the beginning of the episode!

"I'M AFRAID OF PUPPETS" TITLE DROP YET AGAIN

Adorabat takes after Badgerclops sometimes I swear

Oooh shit sequel hook - oh NVM it was Badgerclops voice acting - NVM Mao Mao passed out. Dang

The Perfect Couple

Watermelon time babyyy

TRANSFORMATION TIME BABYYYY

Ah so he wanted to perfectly cut a watermelon in half, that's why he got so many?

"I need (counts on fingers) 600 more watermelons!" glad to see I'm not the only one who counts on my fingers

Why would Penny and Benny need 600 watermelons for their wedding? Also I called it on Penny & Benny being the couple

Mao Mao has to officiate the wedding? I thought priests did that

Please don’t throw up again Mao Mao

"I WILL BUY YOU A BAG TO HOLD YOUR STUFF..."

"A nondescript sack!!" Dude he just taking out the trash...

Nvm its just laundry

"I WILL TURN THIS BUSH AROUND"

Oh so THAT'S what Ramaraffe thought Kevin was Adorabat

"Why don't you buy me cake and do my laundry?" Are you implying you wanna marry Mao Mao, Badgerclops 👀

I lov Mao Mao's faces in this scene he legit looks like a bishouen anime protagonist

Nvm no transformation it's just his wedding outfit

Why did they invite Orangusnake and Boss Hosstritch to the wedding tho? What about when they hid in their moving truck and used their electricity - wait Badgerclops technically did that last one, nvm

Wait THEY DIDN'T TALK TO EACH OTHER BEFORE THE WEDDING?? What a perfect couple huh

Is Mao Mao having hallucinations just gonna be a regular thing now....

IS PENNY SERIOUSLY GONNA MARRY ORANGUSNAKE OUT OF SPITE ASFSDGFUK

Why did Mao Mao say "melons" in a Spanish accent I'm scared

"They're both terrible, so what does it matter if they get hitched or not?" They're definitely gonna change their minds now

"She lied because she wanted to protect his feelings! And he lied because he couldn't bear to hurt her!" Isn't that just the plot of The Truth Stinks?

OH SHIT HE CUT ORANGUSNAKE IN HALF HOLY FUCK

He made Orangusnake officiate the wedding as punishment lol

Why are they,,,stepping on the watermelons?? Damn right Badgerclops I'd cry over that too

"What's, uh, your credit score like?" "850. Why, is that good?" "It's perfect..." HE WANTS TO MARRY MAO MAO NOW ASDFHKL

#semi live blogging #semi-live blogging #//long post #// long post

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