#also reason why so many of his idle animations are of him yawning

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE TEN || IDLE TRANSFIGURATION

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda + ieiri shoko from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 11 march

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 1,8k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : small fly and reverse retribution 

↳ next episode : narrow-minded

↳ barista’s notes : let me admit, it’s getting a bit difficult to write the series because the episodes in the anime does not match with Y/N’s timeline/story right now since Itadori and her are in two completely different situations, but i am trying my best ╲ʕ·ᴥ·　╲ʔ i hope you enjoy today’s episode even though, once again, it isn’t that interesting at all to be honest... but at least nanami will appear in the next one!

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode..

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“Y/N has been sleeping a lot lately, don’t you think?” Zenin asked curiously, as she looked towards the direction of where you were, which was under the usual tree at the track field that you were peacefully sleeping under with your track top used as a pillow for the time being.

“Kelp,” Inumaki replied, as he was also looking at your direction with his classmate while nodding his head in agreement - he was worried since it seemed like everyone was tiring you out due to the 5 vs 1 practice matches they would do…with you being the sole target that no one could defeat yet.

“Did we tire her out that bad? Has she been getting any sleep?” Panda continuously questioned, leading the rest of the second-years to look at you with concerned expression while the other first-years were sitting between you to keep you company after you woke up.

“It’s so boring with you, I want Y/N to wake up soon…” Kugisaki muttered as she looked down at you with a pout on her face causing her classmate to give off an irritated expression before soften up once he turned to look down at you as well.

To them both right now, you seemed to be so in peace for the first time in a while as your breathing was set at a steady and light rhythm with few spots of sunlight shone down your face due to the leave areas the leaves above you three right now, there was also no sort of hints of you having a nightmare at all, no wrinkles could be seen to indicate that there was any right now.

Fushiguro and Kugisaki couldn’t deny the fact that they both could sense that they were improving in their combat skills with you as their mentor and opponent during the practice matches since each time as each match went by, they seemed to last a second longer than they did before leading them to be motivated and encouraged by the small but satisfying achievement.

“We don’t seem to get a scratch on her though,” Fushiguro commented, as he admired your face to see no indication of you even fighting all five of Zenin, Inumaki, Panda, Kugisaki and himself, it seemed as if you didn’t even lift a single finger during training today. However, the same could be said with them since you were also practising your reversed curse technique on them ever since you had been taking lessons with Ieiri Shoko - to which you had to admit, Gojo was right when she didn’t explain the concept of the technique really well.

“Do you think we’re making her use too much of her cursed energy?” Kugisaki asked in an anxious tone, as she was concerned about the number of times you had fallen asleep during the training session during the week since you were using both some cursed energy during training as well as healing their wounds to improve your use of the reversed cursed technique that you were aiming to perfect it by the time of the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event.

“I don’t think so, she processes an immense amount of it but it’s probably because she isn’t getting enough sleep,” Fushiguro quietly answered causing Kugisaki to look up at him in confusion since even though you and her were quite close with one another, she still knew so little about you when it came to jujutsu.

Fushiguro, however, knew almost as much as he was allowed to due to Gojo’s explanation about your background the other day when he had a conversation with him.

“The L/N clan are the stability of the Jujutsu world, as much as I hold the fate of this world, Y/N is someone that can support it’s pillars to keep it up, that’s probably why the Zenin clan wanted an alliance by marriage...to obtain one or all those pillars to themselves”

Deep in thinking, Fushiguro couldn’t help but wonder what Gojo meant by those words. From what he could recall, once Gojo mentioned your role within this complex world of jujutsu sorcery, he also mentioned something that your ancestor did to make sure Ryomen Sukuna was sealed for the time being as they weren’t able to cast the cursed spell that was specifically needed to exorcise the special grade curse, yet a year ago, the phenomenon of the rumoured ‘falsified’ technique seemed to be used during the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons - which lasted for only a short 0.5 seconds - leading Gojo to suspect that you had already executed something that no other sorcerer from your clan had ever achieved.

Yet, Fushiguro had no idea what it was.

However, before he could even utter out a comment to Kugisaki, from the corner of his eye he noticed something shining from the corner of your eye causing the shikigami user to turn his head slightly to have a closer look only to suddenly discover an unexpected tear swiftly rolling down to the side to which caught him by surprised.

Steadily, Fushiguro reached out his arm to wake you up from your slumber to ask what was wrong, only for someone to beat him to it as an arm with what seemed to be a white coat sleeve suddenly appeared into his view.

“Y/N, can you wake up for me?” the person asked, as they gently shook your shoulders which completely surprised Kugisaki since she was in a daze after it had gone silent between her and Fushiguro.

After a few seconds, a groan could be heard from you as you gradually opened your eyes before steadily blinking a few times to let your eyes focus on the setting in front of you only to come across Ieiri, who was looking at you with a small smile on her face while the prominent dark eye circles were completely visible to you even when you were in the tree shade.

“Shoko-san?” you quietly called out, before grudgingly sitting up as you stretch your arms to release some of the stiffness that was building up leading to the Jujutsu Tech doctor to explain the reason why she had woken you up.

“I have someone I want you to practice your technique on since you progressed a lot over the past few weeks, is that okay?” she questioned, causing you to nod and smile at her before your mind came to a sudden question that you had in mind.

“Is it really okay for me to heal the person? Wouldn’t they want you to be in their care?” you asked curiously, before covering your mouth to let out a small yawn.

“Don’t worry, I asked him if he would allow it this once and he agreed,” the doctor stated in reassurance before standing up from her crouched position that she was in. “I need you there in about a few minutes, take your time to wake yourself up,” Ieiri stated before walking away in the direction she came from to go attend the sorcerer that needed to be healed at this moment in time.

Tilting your head to the side, you felt a sudden click before doing the same to the other side to relieve some of the tension that was lingering from your sleeping position - having a track top as a pillow wasn’t as comfortable as you wanted it to be.

“Gojo, when you come back do you want to come with me to get some drinks?” Kugisaki asked with a bright smile on her face causing you to smile excitedly at her as you agreed to the invitation since you were craving orange juice quite a bit.

Standing up on your feet, you rolled your shoulders back to hear the familiar cracks that released some more firmness from your bone and muscles. However, before you could even take a step forward on going to the designated location that you needed to be, you noticed that there was someone else who was standing next to you, leading you to give a side glance to see Fushiguro ready upon his feet, while Kugisaki had already rushed to Zenin’s side.

“I’ll take you there,” Fushiguro randomly stated to you, causing you to give him a perplexed look.

“I don’t think that’s needed, I know where to go and you need to train more,” you informed the shikigami sorcerer before informing the second-years that you needed to go for some time, which they understood, as you then processed to walk in the same direction that Ieiri went. However, you didn’t expect the erratic-hair sorcerer to follow you regardless of your previous comment.

“Didn’t I say you didn’t need to take me there, you drag?” you questioned, as you continued to make your way to the infirmary only for Fushiguro to not answer you at all causing you to let out a sigh of frustration as you decided not to fight against his decision since you knew he wasn’t going to listen to you - he never did to be honest.

“Are you okay?” Fushiguro asked bluntly, leading you to once again look at your classmate in confusion since it was the most random question he could ever ask.

“Yeah, I’m fine, what’s the reason for you asking?” you commented, as you placed your hands in the pockets of your black nylon cargo joggers leading the sorcerer next to you to look at you with an expressionless look on his face.

If you were really okay, you wouldn’t have shed a tear in your sleep right? Or maybe he was overthinking it?

Fushiguro wasn’t quite sure.

Ever since you and him met, you have never shown a side of vulnerability to him at all, you have never shown a hint of fear, sadness or insecurity to him or anyone else ever from what he could remember. From Fushiguro’s perspective, one side of you was calm, supportive and intelligent due to both your knowledge of everyone’s techniques as well as your battle tactics that you can come up suddenly on the spot, the other side of you were just your moody side when you would yell at him or flick his forehead randomly to express your irritation when he wouldn’t listen to you - which he did quite often than he would like to admit.

“No reason, just worried about you,” Fushiguro mentioned, hiding his real intention of why he questioned your wellbeing, as continued to look at what was in front of him to avoid making eye contact with you since he could feel your eyes peering at him with curiosity filling them.

Sighing once again, you slap the back of his head causing him to groan since you put more strength than you intended to. “You shouldn’t worry about me Fushiguro, be selfish,” you commented before walking faster to be ahead of him, leaving him confused about what you had just mentioned to him.

“Be selfish?” Fushiguro muttered in confusion leading you to turn back to look over your shoulder before smiling at him.

“You were going to take me there right?” you asked, as you halted your movement causing the shikigami user to finally catch up to you while you had a lingering question in the back of your mind.

‘What was that dream?’

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[saikagerights]

Lay Me Down to Rest - Entry for Day of MirSan 2021

Hello there! And welcome to my first Inuyasha fanfiction, as apart of the @dayofmirsan event. 

I initially was planning to be an observer of the event, but sudden inspiration struck at 1am during my nightly routine of falling asleep to Inuyasha. Rewatching the Monkey Sprite episode is interesting for many reasons. For one, there was an unhealthy amount of filler added into the anime adaptation of this story-line, which gave hit-or-miss comedy. But the most important thing is that Miroku and Sango are mostly unaccounted for in this story-line, which gives shippers like me an opportunity to write some “off-screen development” for them. And though the anime does give us an idea, I’m afraid that Miroku’s indifference and frustrated edge in the scene feels a bit off, so I decided to add a bit of a bit of context. Consider this a bit of a fusion between the anime in manga, though the scene is based off of the anime. Also I was very liberal with my use of English/Japanese dub terminology. I watched the anime in English, but switched over to the manga to replace the Final Act, so it’s a bit inconsistent. 

I’ve been observing this fandom from afar ever since I started getting into Inuyasha back in December, and though I wanted to try and engage with it, it seemed very daunting given this fandom’s age and organization. But I’m very grateful that I was given the chance to participate in this event, and lucky that inspiration struck me at the right time. I’ve really been looking forward to seeing the works that come out of this event, and I hope you enjoy my contribution. 

And thanks for the mods for allowing me to share my work with you fellow fans

InuYasha and it’s properties are owned by creator Rumiko Takahashi and Sunrise 

Read on AO3

Sango tailed the monk as he led their investigation. The villagers they had asked so far had no knowledge of the wicked demon, only of the pestering monkeys that were ravaging their fields. Her companion simply nodded, thanking them for their time and promising that the Inugami would save their village. They soon found themselves at the outskirts of the village on an empty patch of land outside the forest, save for one tall tree. Sango found his behavior during their search to be strange, especially as he now paused at the tree, leaving his Shakujo leaning against its trunk.

Was he just as stumped as she was? Would this reprieve be a chance for them to rethink their approach? 

“Why have we stopped here, Miroku?” She questioned. “Aren’t we supposed to search for Naraku’s whereabouts?”

Her befuddlement heightened as he laid his body to rest in the grass underneath the shade of the tree with a sigh, both hands pillowing his head. His intentions then became clear at the sight of his eyelids slipping shut.

“How might we do that when we have neither Inuyasha’s nose or Kagome’s detection?” His tone reflected his relaxed poise. “I merely said that so that Inuyasha would be more inclined to help those villagers.”

Her head tilted downward towards the monk’s resting face. “I understand wanting to help, but do you honestly think that Inuyasha dealing with those monkeys will get us any closer to finding him?

“Not particularly.” He punctuated the off-handed remark with a yawn, overstating his disinterest. “But enough of that... Why don’t you join me here?”

She stood awestruck at his bold request. He lays there while their friends were helping this poor village and now he asks her to do the same? If Inuyahsa were to find out, he’d surely have more pressing things to worry about than the food security of the village. 

“I don’t think it would be wise, considering your flippant lies.”

The man remained still, no sign of concern disrupting his posture. 

“If you changed back into your battle attire before our return, they’d never suspect a thing.” He ignored her statement, a peaceful smile casually appearing on his face. She instantly recognized this move. He was fully convinced he would get his way, the sleazy crook. “Besides, I’m sure sleep has been as kind to you as it has been to me as of late.”

Although it was usually hard to detect amongst his manner of speaking, the monk’s sarcasm was not missed by the slayer. She knew very well that Naraku’s sudden disappearance had their whole group on edge, including herself. And while sleep had become its own battle, the desperate investigations of their enemy have left her distracted from everything else. Sleep meant the rest needed to fight again, but it also meant time alone with one’s most intimate thoughts. What always plagued her mind nowadays were things she’d rather not willingly engage. Finding Naraku should be her biggest concern now, but she indulged her companion despite what she would consider was her better judgement.

The monk had a particular talent for steering her away from rationality.

“Knowing your pervy ways, I’m sure you’d try and sneak a peek at me”

The monk could’ve never noticed the sneer on her face behind his still-closed eyes. The same smile was plastered on his face as well, despite her accusation. He really did enjoy giving her grief, didn’t he...

“Trust me, my dear. I have no intention of moving from this spot for a while. Or at least until Inuyasha comes for my head.”

 “Then I guess you wouldn’t mind if I left Kilala here to guard this spot until I returned.”

He chuckled at that. “I don’t mind at all. I’m sure she’d love to watch me lie here, right Kilala?”  

Sango looked to the nekomata, who merely chuffed in response. She was wary of Kilala’s strange trust in the monk at times, but she was sure that the demon would keep an eye on him in case he tried something funny. 

Miroku took this as the perfect time to reveal his indigo eyes to her. 

 “Please, my intentions are more honorable than what they seem, believe me.”

There it was, that gentle voice of his used to convince her of his authenticity. The same breathy tones that sent her heart racing and her stomach in somersaults. She knew Miroku was confident in his charms, but she also liked to think that he was fully aware of this game they played. She only came to grips with it recently, but there was something going on. 

They’d fight, they’d talk it through, and just when she thought he would try to make a move, that damn hand of his would find the wrong place to caress. Or it would be when she found herself grieving once more, and he could comfort her with his words alone. How did he always know what to say that made everything clear and could heal every fiber of her being, but also had a hand that never failed to do the exact opposite? He was a truly frustrating man, but he was the only one she ever considered more than just that. 

But did he really know? That was a puzzle Sango couldn’t solve. It wasn’t as if anything meaningful resulted from these escapades. Afterwards, they would act as if nothing happened, and he would return to his typical flirtatious ways with any woman that entered his line of sight. So Sango liked to think that Miroku fully knew that he was toying with her feelings. That way it made it easier to lower her expectations and resent them despite Kagome’s not-so-subtle prodding. 

When she became abruptly aware that her eyes had been locked on him for too long, she made her hasty retreat, hoping he didn’t catch her bright red flush in the shade of the tree. 

“This man will be the death of me,” she softly cursed herself as soon as she knew she left his earshot. 

_______________________________________________________________

Upon her return to their little “spot,” she was greeted by an alert Miroku. His body was now fully upright and turned towards her approaching form. 

“You’ve accepted my invitation, I see”

“I thought you were trying to sleep”

“I still am, but I’d figured it would help if I got a quick glimpse of your beauty before-hand.”

She rolled her eyes at his shameless attempt. “You really are troublesome, you know that?”

“You wound me, dear Sango!” He unceremoniously flopped back into his previous position, his left hand patting the spot next to him. “You are free to lie beside me if you wish.” 

Without the need for consideration, she silently opted to sit against Kilala’s curled form, stretching her legs in front of her. He managed to convince her to relax alongside him, but she had no intention of allowing herself to get too comfortable around him in the likely case the monk’s wandering hands wandered once more. He sighed audibly at her decision, but allowed his eyes to close again without any further word. He could act like a child all he wanted, but she would not budge. 

She watched the man for a while, observing his state of rest. She could tell as much that he hadn’t fallen asleep just yet by all of his idle noises and the way he kept trying to steal a glance in her direction. 

“Can’t sleep?”

She hadn’t even tried to close her eyes just yet, as she was still trying to grasp their current situation. Why was he so insistent on sleeping if he was just going to try and stare at her the entire afternoon? Why did he lie to Inuyasha in the first place if this was how they would spend their time? With all these questions moving around in her head, she might as well ask for the most basic of them.

“Miroku? Why do you lie and steal as casually as you do? I always thought that monks were pure-hearted.”

“What a wonderful question!” He exclaimed. With such enthusiasm, she was almost afraid of the answer she would soon receive from him. “I’ve been traveling on my own for so long, and it’s quite difficult to acquire wealth in such unfortunate times. I wish to give aid to those in need, but I also believe that it never hurts to help yourself as well.” He settled for an even tone and let his eyes slip open once more. 

 “And you are right, It is true that holy-people such as myself are meant to be free of sin. But,  I was born tainted by the hole that resides in my hand.” His voice tapered off at his pause, the newfound silence growing thick with each passing moment. His sound returned to him, soft and low, as if it were only meant for his ears alone. 

“It doesn’t matter how much I devote myself to my faith to any idol or deity. My curse is hell-bent on deciding my fate....”

But we are trying to stop Naraku! To free you from the Kazaana. You can always change your path after that! She immediately contested, perhaps a little too loudly, but she didn’t care. How dare he speak so little of himself and avoid her gaze as he did it?! She refused to accept his belittling statements. 

“It is very hard for me to see a future for myself at this time, I’m afraid…” He brought his head up to look at her. A flash of fear ran through his eyes before he looked down once more. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t speak like that.”

He’s afraid…

And he had every right to be. 

“Please don’t apologize.”

He never showed it in front of their group, but behind that calm and smooth exterior remained a man trembling under the weight of his own mortality. He was a man after all, and men were never to show what made them most vulnerable. But with how much he gives to help others, it feels unfair for him to just allow himself to suffer inside as he did.

 If they understood each other as well as he liked to claim, then she knew he hated the restless feeling they had knowing nothing of where their wicked nemesis resided, surely plotting something to exploit the fears he caused within their hearts. Knowing that her poor brother remained in that demon’s grasp sickened her to her core, and sitting around with no leads made it hard to lay dormant as they did now. 

“I get it. I am just as frustrated as you… About Kohaku-”

“-You don’t need to go any further” He  interrupted her thoughts, I didn’t mean to remind you of your pain like that.”

 “Miroku-” 

 “-Please,” he sharply cut in once more, hoarseness settling into his throat. He must’ve noticed it as well, as he cleared his throat soon after. “let’s just try to find rest while we still can.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, clearly trying to force unconsciousness upon himself. Sango relented, trying to relax her body, idly stroking Kilala as she watched the man slowly succumb to rest. It was surreal to see him struggle like this when it seemed like meditation was second nature to him. She decided on trying for sleep once his breathing evened out and all the remaining tension left his face. 

________________________________________________________________

Miroku wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but he could tell from the shadows before him had grown considerably when his eyes peered open. He turned his head to see Sango now curled up against Kilala, her face all but buried in her demon companion’s fur. He slowly rose to his feet, slightly stretching as he made an intake of his surroundings. It looked as if the sun would soon begin it’s retreat from the sky. The monk knew the rest was necessary, but he definitely didn’t look forward to another predictively sleepless night. 

One more glance at Sango’s sleeping form was enough to convince him to approach her, neglecting his Shakujo to silence his movements. He knew, probably better than anybody, of the threat imposed by the slayer’s attuned senses. He also knew the danger of being caught if she awoke to his gawking. Unfortunately it was a risk he was willing for one small fleeting moment to stare at her.

What an idiot he had been for making her sympathize with his life. Even worse that it reminded her of her own grief. He was happy to indulge her curiosity, but when he looked up at her, he turned cowardly at what he saw. It wasn’t fear, or sadness over his grim fate. It was the very same fire that lit behind her eyes in battle. 

She was prepared to fight for him, it seemed…

He dare not think that she would go any farther for that. He was not worth her death. In fact, nothing was worth her death. The honor of her clan was at stake, and her life was essential in carrying on their legacy. One measly itinerant monk with a fated death should be worthless in her eyes, even if he wanted nothing more than to keep her alive.

Even if he wanted more than anything to see a future with her.

He turned away from her, returning to his spot in a now seated position. The monk had half a mind to wake the woman, but decided against it. Every waking moment for her was its own battle, after all. She needed all the rest she could get. And he’d gladly wait for her until that battle resumed, and fight with her at every step.

And if dying for her now meant he could spend the next life by her side, then he would welcome death with open arms. 

“I hope this woman is the death of me,” he softly wished before all else melted away to his own meditation.

______________________________________________________________

Yeah I realized I took some liberties here with how Miroku and Sango’s relationship was at this point. This episode takes place after the Temptress of the Mist and Demon-Head castle, but far behind Mt. Hakurei, so what was going on with them hadn’t really become a “pattern” just yet. And Miroku had just comforted her in her grieving state for the first time right before that. Sango wasn’t deep enough to say he was her reason for living, so that’s why I kept her on the fence and didn’t have her feel too disappointed, because that’s what came after Mt Hakurei. 

I’m a sucker for long winded perspective changes, especially here with all the parallels I draw between them. Some of my best lines were written here, especially the ending line. My GOD. I swear, I wrote that and everything made sense. I said “yes” over and over again, it was so good.

Also can you tell whose voice I’m talking about when describing Miroku’s? The answer is Koji Tsujitani. I always knew about Tsujitani’s delivery that makes Miroku sound truly “fake” but I noticed rather recently how he would add so much breath, especially in serious scenes. On the other hand, Kirby Morrow played the character down and deep in his throat, which isn’t bad when talking about his overall performance, but I decided to favor Tsujitani’s performance in this instance. 

(I’m a classically trained singer and a music education major, so I’m a nut for analyzing voice acting. I have respect for both of these men may they rest in peace.)

Thanks again for the opportunity, and I hope to write more for this series. 

-Saikage

[revengeoftheantichrist]

Seven Devils

Warnings: Injury Via Animal

AO3  <<<Previous

Day 3

You awoke with a sudden gasp. Your breathing was heavy, trying to get as much air in as possible. Claire and one of your teachers stood above you, an expression of relief washing over them. “Are you okay Y/N?” asked the teacher. You couldn’t reply, still trying to catch your breath. “You were choking in your sleep and then you just stopped breathing,” Claire explained, panic in her voice. “I- I don’t know I think I was choking in my dream or something, this has never happened to me before,” you replied. You looked around the room, it was daylight and the room empty, the girls must have left for breakfast. Sister Ruth held out a glass of water for you, as you reached for it, you finally noticed the excruciating pain in your hand causing you to knock the glass all over yourself. You looked down at your hand, it looked mangled and bruised, both the palm and back-side seemed to have a sort of burn on it. Every twitching finger was unbearable. Claire and Sister Ruth were also speechless, only your crying could be heard in the room. Sister Ruth finally spoke, “Are you a sleep-walker by any chance?” You shook your head, still trying to calm down from the choking and now the hand. “How did you break and burn your hand in your sleep?” Claire asked. She didn’t receive a reply. “We’ll get you to the infirmary my dear, hopefully we don’t need to go to the big hospital in the city.” Sister Ruth gently held your hand, being careful not to agitate it any further. She instructed you to slowly get out of bed, before leading you to the infirmary. The bright sunlight indicated that it was still early in the morning and the temperature would pick up soon. However, basking in the sun was the least of your concerns right now. ////

The sister in the infirmary looked frantic as soon as soon saw the injury. Questions were flying but no one had any answers. You yourself could not describe the choking nor the state of your hand. Although you were given painkillers, they weren’t enough to stop the pain as the Sister set your hand and moved the bones back into place. You had to be held down. It all just felt a little medieval. Claire had brought you a change of clothes by the time the bandages had been wrapped. The afternoon sun was high in the sky by the time Sister Ruth returned for you. “The rest of the girls are in the garden today, but you shouldn’t be moving your hand. So, I think it’s best for you to join the sisters for the afternoon sermon and they can help keep an eye on you,” she explained. For some reason, the thought of a long sermon made you feel ill, but you had no other option, following Sister Ruth to the small chapel. //// The room was cold in contrast for the warm day, not even the candles brought up the temperature of the room. You sat at the back, trying your best not to draw any attention to yourself. That failed as the priest stopped briefly to greet you. You gave a shy smile and sat down, hoping for the sisters to turn around and stop staring at you. This was going to be along afternoon you thought to yourself. You tried to get more comfortable in your seat, making it seem like you were paying attention. The priest was speaking in Latin, the words not making any sense to you at first. But the more you paid attention, the more it seemed to make sense, but you couldn’t explain to anyone what they meant. The voice that was echoing through the room changed. It became more youthful, smoother. It didn’t belong to the man whose lips were moving. Your eyes got heavy, struggling to pay attention to the words now. You sank further into your seat, the scent of something spicy and rich wafting through the air. The velvety voice wrapped around you, it seemed to call your name. Your eyes fell shut before you could acknowledge something was wrong, drifting off into a deep sleep.

////

“Y/N? Y/N? Sister Maria Y/N!” Sister Y/N suddenly jolted awake at the sound of her name. The sisters were staring back at her wide-eyed, while Father Langdon stood at the front, bible in hand with one eyebrow elegantly raised. He looked like he was stopping himself from laughing. One of the elder nuns was looking at her in disgust. Y/N finally registered where she was; she had fallen asleep in the back of one of the sermons she was being forced into. Who could blame her, the content was boring but Langdon’s voice was soothing enough to make anyone drift off. “Does the word of God bore you so much? Are you not in need of protection form the devil?” he asked. She cleared her throat and sat up straighter, resisting the urge to yawn, “I apologise Father, please do continue.” He shut the book with a loud slam echoing through the room, some of the sisters jumping a little; they were far too delicate sometimes. “I think I’ll end here for now.” “But Father, you haven’t finished the parable,” one of the younger ones chimed up. “I know, but it seems like I’m boring some people, so I shall continue later on in the day. You’re all dismissed,” He finished, heading to the bookshelf. The sisters reluctantly got up, sister Y/N with them. She felt the glares as she left the room. “You are so disrespectful to Father Langdon, he only wants what’s best for us but you can’t see that,” one of the younger, newer nuns started once you were out of the room, some other sisters nodding along with her. There had been a lot of new recruits since Michael took over, she were sure he was ‘inspiring’ the girls to join, this way, they could bask in his presence longer than the lay people. “Sitting in a room and being read to all day isn’t the only form of worship and welfare to exist,” she replied. She had no need to defend herself, she had been here far longer than they had, she had practically grown up in here. “Well, we all know who won’t be going on that trip then,” another one chimed in. She gave them a confused look, she hadn’t heard of any trips. “There is to be a meeting at the Vatican, Father Langdon wants to take some representatives for the order,” she explained. Sister Y/N just hummed in response. She turned and left the gaggle behind, she had much more important things to do than partake in idle gossip. //// It seemed that sister Y/N would never know any peace. She had been called in to see the Mother Superior before bedtime. It couldn’t be good. The room was covered in the scent of tobacco as she walked in, the woman had a habit of smoking and was huffing away as Sister Y/N entered. The woman said nothing, just gesturing Y/N to sit down. “When did you develop and attitude problem sister? I’ve had complaints from the new girls all the way to the Monseigneur,  saying your being hostile,” she pointed out. Sister Y/N fiddled with the bandages on your injured hand. She wondered if Mother Superior knew about how her hand was Injured. She probably wouldn’t believe it. Sister Y/N sighed and then spoke, “The younger ones just aren’t used to a serious attitude yet, I assure you mother I am not treating them any differently than the others. As for the Monseigneur, it’s just some teething problems, you know I don’t like change and Father Thomas’ boots are hard to fill.” “Yes, well they don’t make them like that anymore,” Mother Superior lit another cigarette. “however, I’ve had too many complaints of you being too sour, so for the time being I’ll have you at the stables.” “You can’t be serious. My hand is broken,” she protested, the thought of being there made her feel ill. “I am serious, and I won’t be hearing anything more form you, off to bed now.” The Mother Superior gestured for the sister to leave, there was no room for any complain. Y/N knew she couldn’t do anything more, so she reluctantly left, muttering to herself on the way out. //// The stable job was as bad as she thought it would be. The smell was horrible, and she had to use both her hands, making her injury worse. Worst of all were the pigs, they reminded her of her stepfather. The aggressive boar with sharp tusks glared at her, and she glared back. She stayed away from the pigpen, wanting nothing to do with it. “You’ll kill the poor thing with your gaze,” a familiar voice rang through the stable. She didn’t turn to greet it, wanting nothing to do with it. “I’m sure Mother Superior spoke to you about your behaviour, it seems that you weren’t listening to her either.��� “I listened to her and that’s why I’m here,” she snapped back. Michael paid her no mind, walking further into the stable, reaching towards the violent boar that seemed to calm down in his presence. Sister Y/N wished that the boar would gouge him with his tusks. She turned to leave the stable before his voice called out behind her, “This creature knows your biggest secret doesn’t he.” She stopped in her tracks, grip tightening around the bucket she was holding. “He’s the reason you’re here in the first place.” Y/N was still speechless, trying to unjumble the thoughts in her mind. Michael stood from his place, “What was the accusation again?” he walked in front of her, leaning down so she couldn’t avoid his gaze, noses touching. He lifted the injured hand and unwrapped the dressing. It should have still been sore and bruised, but instead he was met with unblemished skin. He chuckled at the sight, “ah, yes… Witchcraft,” he whispered the last world. The made her snap out of her trance, without thinking she slapped him with her previously bandaged hand. “Father Langdon I suggest you watch your tongue, I’m sure you’re aware of the weight of such an accusation. However, the consequences of a false accusation may be worse for you.” There was a fire in her eyes, one that had been burning for years. Michael licked his lips at the thought of being burned by it. “Or what sister? What will you do to me? Will I end up like your step-father over there?” The said creature huffed at his words. The Monseigneur gripped Y/Ns face, painfully squishing her cheeks to get his point across. “It seems that you need to learn how to respect authority Sister Y/N. The devil seems to have a grip on your tongue.” He harshly let go of her face, “I’ll find a suitable punishment for your insolence when I return from the Vatican.” He left without another word, grumbling about his ruined shoes. //// Sister Y/N took her time returning to her chambers. She thought the absence of the Monseigneur would bring some temporary peace to the convent, yet her unease seemed to now include the feeling of being watched. On top of that, she would have to sleep alone for the first time in years with her roommate joining him on the trip. A strange noise stopped her in her tracks. It sounded like hooves and the huffing and puffing of an angry animal. She turned to the find the source and was faced by the boar charging at her. It was too late for her to move away from its attack, not even having enough time to scream as its tusks gouged her abdomen. The tusks tore more flesh as they exited her body, making her collapse. It charged once more before running through the hallway out of sight. Blood began to well up into sister Y/Ns mouth, almost choking her as she began to crawl, anywhere to get some help. Her vision began to darken as the pain from the injuries began to take over. She wasn’t sure how far she got before her eyes shut.

Next>>>

[ckret2]

Specimen 1, Specimen 2, Specimen 3, Monster 0

Summary: Your family has bred dorats for centuries, passing the business down from mother to daughter. You do what you must to preserve your business and your family. And when the Xilien military marches in and requests three dorats for a classified experiment, you're unable to refuse.

No matter what kind of monster they make from them.

A King Ghidorah origin story.

Continuity: Godzilla, Monsterverse continuity; borrows from Showa and Heisei Characters: three dorats that are going to become King Ghidorah, a 2nd person perspective Xilien OC, and assorted other Xiliens as necessary. Wordcount: 7500 Notes: This is a blend of King G's Heisei and Showa portrayals. ME-319 (the viewpoint character) is intended to be a Xilien expy for Emmy Kano. "Female Xiliens are parthenogenetic" is an explanation for why they all look the same in Astro-Monster that doesn't depend on them being some sort of mass-produced clones. Pronouns! "She" = "Xilien who identifies as a parthenogenetic woman," "xe" = "non-parthenogenetic Xilien, regardless of sex," "he" = "person/animal from a species with no capacity for parthenogenesis, regardless of sex." Assume that all pronouns, names, terms, and everything else are translated to more familiar references for ease of the human reader's comprehension, ex: "There's a reference to pineapples, are you saying there are pineapples on Planet X?" No. No I'm not, that's a translation. Loosely inspired by this prompt:

Anonymous said: hi! if you're taking prompts, wouuuld you be willing to write another ghidorah x reader insert? i'm especially intrigued by your past idea about how if someone called them by their original names, they'd start bawling lmao i'd just love to see these guys get some of the aDORATion they deserve (i'm so sorry but i had to, this just can't be mere coincidence)

###

You're a dorat breeder.

The breeding bit isn't difficult; for the most part, the dorats are perfectly happy to handle all of that themselves. Dorats have been domesticated since before recorded history, and have no trouble living and mating in indoor aeries as long as the rooms are large enough and the windows are tall and let in plenty of sunlight, natural or otherwise.

Your job is to keep them happy and healthy while they get on with their business: maintaining and cleaning your centuries-old three-story facility and the aeries suspended by chains far above the floor, keeping a close eye out for any dorats that look unwell or radiate sickly emotions to get them to a vet, keeping their food well-stocked, scheduling enough outdoor trips to ensure that the flight morphs get adequate exercise, and eventually selling them off to pet owners or to professionals whose work needs trained dorats.

You're a woman—that is to say, in a more biological sense, you're parthenogenetic—and although you've got distant cousins and a half-sibling who have fathers, you yourself only have a mother. You are the product of a single unbroken matrilineal line stretching back for over three hundred documented generations. And for several centuries, every cloned daughter in that line has been a dorat breeder. Not because you had to be—but because every one of you has wanted to be. You don't know whether it's in your genes, or whether anyone would want to work with dorats after growing up around their indoor aeries. Nature or nurture? It doesn't really matter, you suppose; you're satisfied with your job, whatever reason you chose it.

You like working with dorats. You like the way they rush up to you in a concerned huddle when you arrive for work in a bad mood, threatening to bowl you over by hopping up on their legs and beating their wings for balance because they want to get closer to your face. You like the colors they come in, from pale jade greens to citrine oranges to a thousand different shades of yellow—gold and neon and amber and more—to warm silvers and pearl whites. You like the broad wingspans and commanding presence of the flight morphs, and the acrobatic energy and even the occasional hive mind-induced stampedes of the spinetail morphs. You like their songlike cries, their shiny scales, the comforting weight of their emotions, the way they switch instantly from sinuous grace to floppy wiggling messes.

You like how small and surprisingly soft the babies are, so little you can cradle them in your hands: their teeth like rows of tiny needles when they yawn, their heads a third of their weight, scrunching up their legs and tucking their wings around them to form little balls when they sleep. You like how agile and elegant the adults are, long and serpentine, their wings simultaneously delicate and powerful, smooth scales and sharp horns and spines—you can see why museums the world over are full of ancient artwork of dorats made from precious metals and gems. But you like the adolescents the most: that's when they're long, ridiculous, uncoordinated noodles, just shifting from the infants' mix of slithering and bipedalism to full quadrupedalism, curious and hyperactive and quarrelsome with each other, constantly tripping over their rapidly expanding wings or getting their new tail spines tangled in everything from blankets to bushes to their own legs.

You've got about three dozen adolescents right now. You started with more hatchlings, but several have already been adopted. It's an orangish-gold pack, all things told, although it wasn't when they first hatched. The ones that are more green and white get adopted out fast as hatchlings, since they're comparatively rare; so much so that when you sell them, you make your customers sign a contract stating they're willing to bring them in to breed so that you can keep the colors in your gene pool.

Your current batch of adolescents is just beginning to head through puberty—as usual, at wildly different rates. Some already have horns that could pass for small but fully developed; some look like long babies, their heads and tails smooth and wings tiny. Most are in between. They still all play together, but already they've begun segregating themselves by morph when they're relaxing, the adolescent flight morphs lounging near (but not too near) the adult flight morphs, the adolescent spinetail morphs piled together in a pack right next to the adult spinetail morphs.

As hatchlings, they already gave you solid impressions of their personalities—who's withdrawn, who's outgoing, who's active, who's lazy, who's quarrelsome, who's cooperative. As they enter adolescence and their mating instincts begin to activate, you're starting to see more facets to their personalities.

And right now, you're thinking very hard about the personalities of three specific adolescent dorats—their quirks, their oddities, their likes and dislikes, their talents and flaws, their futures.

You're thinking about them because two soldiers and two scientists, wearing thin black shades and crisp gray uniforms, have dropped three reports on your desk: dossiers about Noodle, Sunshine, and Pineapple, as if they were persons of national interest rather than three baby pets.

###

Noodle has pretty white-ish gold scales, and—like many near-white dorats that are more gold than silver—he also has awful flaky sheds that come off in strips and tend to cling for days, which makes him a far less appealing pet than most dorats as pale as him. (Some breeders try to sell flaky near-white dorats in between sheds and let the buyer deal with the periodic draconic dandruff, since it doesn't count as a health issue that they’re legally required to report; you consider that unethical and always warn your prospective buyers.)

He's sedate almost to the point of lethargy; his best skill is napping. Noodle's definitely destined to be an indoor pet, which limits who you can adopt him out to. Hopefully even with his shedding problem, you'll be able to find someone who wants him for his ability to lounge about looking pretty rather than for an exercise companion. Though he will play enthusiastically and energetically with his peers, he tends to bow out early to watch the others play, passively absorbing their enjoyment via proximity rather than contributing to the empathic cloud of fun himself.

You suspect there's an edge of sly intelligence to Noodle's apparent idleness—perhaps he's realized that by lounging in the right place, where he can empathically benefit from the other hatchlings' entertainment without having to play himself, he can get more rewards with less effort. Would he be more active by himself, you wonder, if he had to work for his own entertainment? You might need to find someone to foster him for a few weeks to see what his personality is like when he's not around dozens of other dorats before letting someone adopt him. But aside from the possibility that he might be a clever little slacker, Noodle's a very unremarkable hatchling, all told.

Now that he's reaching adolescence, though, and the first few spines on his tails are coming in, he's demonstrated a new behavior quirk: when the adolescents separate by morph, rather that sitting with his fellow spinetails, he follows after the flight morphs and flops down amongst them. You wonder why. Does Noodle prefer the lighter psychic load of a crowd of flights? Does he think that if he socializes with them casually, then once they're old enough to start worrying about breeding, his preferred choices in mates will consider him favorably without his having to expend any extra effort wooing them? Or perhaps he wants to be part of the audience when his fellow spinetails come by to make their first childish, halting attempts at mating displays: their heads lowered, small wings tucked away, and tails waving high in what they'll soon have the muscles to develop into the spinetails' signature whip crack/rattle. And if Noodle does want to watch, why—to learn from his peers' techniques, or to admire them?

Broadly speaking, flight morphs tend to be more withdrawn than spinetail morphs—less inclined to socialize, less open with their ambient emotions. (Although there's wide variation, of course, since the reach of a flight's empathy is far broader but also under far more voluntary control than a spinetail's. They can reduce their psychic influence—but they can also choose to cast it across a far greater distance than a spinetail ever could.)

But even taking into consideration flight morphs' inclination toward tucking their emotions away to themselves, Sunshine—named for scales so bright yellow they're almost fluorescent—is one of the most withdrawn flights you've ever seen. You actually took him to a veterinary neurologist to ensure he doesn't have any kind of brain damage. The conclusion was he doesn't, he just keeps his emotions clamped up tight inside his little head.

However, aside from that, Sunshine's not skittish or sullen, and he doesn't act like he's being bullied or neglected by other dorats. He's more violent than most, which along with the clamped up emotions is a warning sign for trauma or high stress. But he keeps his violence to play fighting, has never done real damage, and always stops when his playmate cries for mercy; so you think he's just fond of fighting rather than lashing out due to anger. So you concluded that he's just remarkably introverted and left him to it.

With the onset of puberty, though, Sunshine's started to come out of his shell. He's one of the most rapidly-developing dorats in this batch, both physically and emotionally. He's already developed a couple of horns and a massive wingspan. He might have reached his adult wingspan, even, although the rest of his body hasn't quite caught up with his wings yet; he looks terribly awkward strutting around, wings akimbo and chest lifted too high when he walks.

Sunshine was also among the first flights to take an interest in showing off for the spinetails; he's been galumphing over to rear up on his legs and show off his wings since before they grew in. Now that they have grown in, he's attracting a lot more attention. (You wonder if the fact that his wingspan is disproportionate to the rest of his body makes spinetails think they look larger than they really are.) Some are flirting back, trotting up to rattle their tails or clap them on the floor if they don't have spines yet, at which point Sunshine rebuffs them and galumphs back over to the flights' company.

You wonder if he wants to flirt but not be flirted with because he doesn't yet understand the purpose of the displays he's practicing, or because he isn't yet pleased with the quality of respondents. Showing off wings doubles as a mating display and a threat display, depending on who it's directed at, so maybe he's just doing it on instinct without having quite figured out the nuances of how to use it. Or maybe he’s hoping to stir up more play fights.

However, you suspect that Sunshine is deliberately flirting. You've seen him off by himself, loner that he is, practicing popping—the mating display used mainly by flights, but sometimes by spinetails, where they stretch their wings as high as possible and then snap them down, producing a sharp pop of air and simultaneously shooting up. (You suspect that this display—and its effect on ceilings and light fixtures—is probably the leading cause behind most pet owners' decisions to spay their flight dorats.) You don't think he'd be training so diligently if he wasn't aware of what he was doing. 

Conversely, among the spinetail morphs, the most physically developed so far is Pineapple—named for his unusually rough brownish-gold scales and their faint undertone of green. (In your opinion, he has the most interesting scales out of this batch of hatchings, which makes him your favorite, appearance-wise. The jades and pearls might be a hit with pet owners; but they're easy to breed for with the right parents, while you don't know if you could recreate Pineapple's scales if you tried. Your pictures of him are a hit in breeders' circles.)

He's incredibly observant, and he's strong-minded for a spinetail, able to break out of a strong emotional hive mind with next to no effort and inject new emotions without thinking. You've seen games stumble to a stop because Pineapple noticed a prospective buyer come in, or someone trip and fall out of a nest, or a kerfuffle break out across the room, and whatever new emotion the sight inspired in him was enough to disrupt everyone else's concentration. You've had far fewer spinetail stampedes while he was here, at least among the hatchlings.

His capacity for inflicting emotions on his peers is almost on par with flight morphs', except that as far as you've seen he can't consciously regulate its effect. You think that Pineapple's unique talent could make him a useful asset if he received professional training, although you don't know of a specific field that would need a spinetail dorat with that kind of ability.

Pineapple is already larger than most of the other adolescents, has developed an impressive set of horns, and has a more even coverage of spines on his tail than any of the other spinetail morphs. They already rattle, which he seems to do involuntarily as he wiggles around in play, although he hasn't made any whip cracks with his tail yet. However, emotionally he's one of the slower developers. He’s practically still a hatchling in his behavior. He plays like he's half his age. He bounces back and forth between flights and spinetails with seeming no recognition of how they've segregated themselves—although once he calms down he inevitably settles down amongst his fellow spinetails, so evidently he's got some recognition of their new social division. He neither joins the spinetails that go over to show off for the flights, nor acknowledges the flights that come to show off for them with anything more than vaguely curious disinterest.

Pineapple's one of the last adolescents for whom you've developed some sense of whether he's likely to be an active or reactive partner—the one who approaches the opposite morph to put on mating displays, or the one who waits to be approached so that he can judge the display he's presented with. It's only in the last few days that you've seen Pineapple begin to watch the flirting flights more keenly, which suggests—but doesn't guarantee—that he'll be a reactive partner.

Noodle, Sunshine, and Pineapple. You don't see their personalities in the dossiers on your desk. The photos on each cover sheet have them posed awkwardly and uncomfortably, heads raised and tails flat on the ground, just like all the photos of the adolescent dorats that the four military representatives took during their first visit weeks ago. In their photos, they look withdrawn and tense.

They're listed by number rather than name.

###

Most of the dorats you breed become pets. But quite a few are taken to be trained to perform public services. Spinetail morphs are the most common service animal on X, and flight morphs are commonly used in counseling and psychological therapy. Many are trained as search and rescue animals: after fires, bombings, or natural disasters, when buried people can't be found with sight, sound, smell, infrared, sonar, or x-ray, often dorats can still detect their minds. Dorats are absurdly adaptable to different environments and atmospheres; they're often sent to new colonies to carry mail, pull heavy loads, and defend Xilien colonists from aliens. Low-empathy dorats can have the last of their empathy trained out of them or chemically suppressed and be used by the police or military.

You've never bred dorats for specific functions—hunting or therapy or what have you. You maintain thorough records of each dorat's family tree, and some of their trees go back dozens of generations—calling on records kept by your mother and her mother and her mother et cetera—but none of them are what anybody would call "thoroughbreds." All the same, plenty of your dorats have been snapped up for professional services before. Thoroughbreds have a higher chance of having the physical, psychic, and personality traits a job called for, yes, but also a higher chance of carrying detrimental genetic conditions. Many people who work regularly with dorats recognize the downsides of thoroughbreds and try to find the traits they need in aeries like yours.

So you were apprehensive, but not surprised, when four representatives of the military came in and asked to speak with you about your current selection of dorats.

In the style mandatory for all soldiers, police, and public officials interacting with civilians, they didn't present you with so much as their ID numbers, much less their personal names. They instructed you to refer to them as Soldier 1, Scientist 2, Scientist 3, and Soldier 4. They referred to you by your matrilineal ID number, ME-319, which felt slightly more personal than calling you by your national ID number, but not by a lot.

"We are conducting a medical experiment with potential military applications that involves dorats," Soldier 1 said. "Controller 0 has authorized very few details to be shared with civilians. We can tell you that we need three in early adolescence. We can tell you that this will be our seventh trial, and the first six concluded in a 100% fatality rate for our dorats specimens. We do not tell you this so that you will think that we are carelessly killing off dorats, but so that you will understand that we are frustrated and vexed every time another experiment fails and recognize that we are taking the utmost care with the dorats." (You can tell that xe's repeating something Controller 0 told xem to say—or, if not, at least that xe must work closely enough with Controller 0 to have picked up its mannerisms. The computer has a tendency to instruct the populace on how they should feel about its pronouncements and decisions; the inside of a Xilien mind is one of the few things it can't control directly, and so it puts the onus on its citizens to control their minds for it.) "We are not, as you can tell, testing them en masse in hopes that one or two will survive, but testing only two and three at a time, and pouring our every resource into ensuring their survival in each trial. Their deaths are incompatible with our objectives."

Despite yourself, you did find yourself thinking that they must be exercising a great deal of caution with the dorats, 100% fatality rate notwithstanding. Still, though, you had to ask— "Why are you testing two and three at a time, then? Why not one?"

Soldier 1 was silent for a moment, and you suspected xe had a direct link to Controller 0 and was waiting for it to provide xem an answer that xe was allowed to share. "Because the very purpose of the experiment requires multiple test subjects," xe finally said. "Our first four tests used only two dorats each. We found two insufficient for stable results. Our results improved when we began using three."

So what was it, you wondered. Was the experiment about dorats' empathic capabilities? Something else concerning their brains? Some new breeding experiments? What could require multiple dorats?

You suspected you'd never find out.

"What qualities are you looking for?" you asked them, with no further questions about the nature of the experiment; because, ultimately, it didn't matter what they told you and whether or not you liked it. No matter what, you were going to comply. You have to comply when Controller 0 comes knocking. Your only recourse for objection is if Controller 0 asks you for something and you know something it doesn't that will help it get what it wants more expediently.

Shortly, Soldier 1 answered, "Compatibility with each other."

"In what sense?" you asked. "Dorats that play together well? Genetic similarity?"

"Not genetic similarity," Soldier 1 said. "Our initial tests were conducted with dorats of the same breed, to poor effect." Xe grimaced almost immediately after speaking, and the next statement came from Scientist 2: "We have our own criteria by which we'll determine compatibility. Once you have presented your pool of available dorats, we will monitor them ourselves until we have made a selection." From the switch in speakers, you suspected that Soldier 1 had overstepped xir bounds and Controller 0 had revoked xir permission to lead the conversation.

"Monitor?" you asked. "In person? Or will you be setting up recording equipment?" You didn't like the sound of either option.

"Both, most likely," Scientist 2 said.

And so it was. Cameras designed to pick up visible light and heat energy were set up around the aeries. Most days, at least one of the four from the military was there—usually either Scientist 2 or Scientist 3—watching keenly while the adolescent dorats played, relaxed, and interacted; taking notes; and recording even more footage from various angles. After a few weeks, all four came in again, asked to speak with you in your office, and presented you with the three dossiers.

And here you are.

###

Here you are.

Looking down at the military's records on Noodle, Sunshine, and Pineapple. Here you are.

"Why?" you ask. You wouldn't have pegged the three of them for any sort of compatibility. You don't know that you've ever seen any of them interact one-on-one with each other, much less all together.

There's a pause as they wait for instructions from Controller 0; and then, with grim solemnity, Scientist 2 takes out a translucent badge and hands it to you. Congratulations: you're now one clearance level above the average civilian.

Scientist 3 speaks. "These two, because Specimen 2—" xe taps on Sunshine's dossier, "is sexually attracted to Specimen 3." And then Pineapple's. Something squeezes inside you. These are adolescents. They're only playing around with flirting—when a flight and spinetail at this age do pair off, they tussle and cuddle. Who was this army biologist with only a few weeks' worth of footage to say that this awkward little thing with disproportionately large wings was anywhere near anything like sexual attraction?

You don't say any of that. You say, very evenly, "Oh?"

"You've seen, no doubt, that he's been putting on mating displays for the spinetail morphs," Scientist 3 says. "We've analyzed multiple displays from multiple angles, and are absolutely certain that Specimen 3 is the only spinetail morph whom Specimen 2 is always facing when he displays. His brain activity and body temperature elevate when Specimen 3 takes note of his displays, but not when any other spinetail morphs do."

Specimens 2, Specimen 3. They've already been numbered.

"Specimen 3 does not appear to reciprocate Specimen 2's sexual attraction," Scientist 3 goes on. "But this is irrelevant. As long as Specimen 2 views Specimen 3 as an object of desire, he will remain invested in both protecting and impressing him—which should yield the behavior we want to see from them."

You think of Sunshine off by himself, getting used to his new wingspan, practicing launching himself higher and higher into the air each time he snaps his wings; and wonder what it is the military plans to use that young enthusiasm to train him to do.

You think of Pineapple, tail rattling accidentally as he wiggles in play or suddenly stopping to stare in fascination at an odd sunbeam or an aerie swinging on its chain; and mentally recoil at the thought of him being an object of desire—a prize to manipulate quiet little Sunshine into doing what they want.

You think of Noodle. Curling up to snooze, or scratching at his flaking scales, or flopping down between the flight morphs with his little wings curled tight around his chest. "Why Specimen 1, then?"

"Because he has demonstrated homosexual inclinations." The way Scientist 3 says the words is so clinically precise it almost sounds pathologizing. It feels like a slap on the face. (Even if hearing the word "homosexual" applied to a dorat is momentarily disorienting, when it's so natural to assume that's the default in non-parthenogenetic species. It's easy to forget that, by a biologist's definition of the term, they do have two sexes, not just two body shapes.)

"How do you know that?" You would have noticed if any of your dorats had progressed past practicing their mating displays, and Noodle doesn't even do that much.

"I'm sure you've noticed that he lounges with the flight morphs. When he watches spinetail morphs present their mating displays, his heart rate increases and eyes dilate in a manner indicating arousal, and his—"

"Okay." You don't want to hear more. You feel like you're peering in someone's bedroom window with night vision goggles. "But, what—what does that have to do with anything?"

"Had we chosen a heterosexual flight morph or spinetail morph, it could develop a sexual rivalry with the other two specimens," Scientist 3 says. "A heterosexual spinetail morph could perceive Specimen 3 as an obstacle to obtaining Specimen 2's attention; whereas Specimen 2 might perceive a heterosexual flight morph as a potential threat to his chances of wooing Specimen 3. However, a heterosexual flight morph will not demonstrate attraction to a homosexual spinetail morph, and a homosexual spinetail morph will not demonstrate attraction to a heterosexual spinetail morph, so neither Specimen 2 nor Specimen 3 will see Specimen 1 as a rival or vice versa. We can reap the benefits of Specimen 2's attraction to Specimen 3 without concern that it will produce a schism with Specimen 1."

You almost laugh at their bizarre, mating-obsessed logic. What are they going to do if one of the spinetails is bisexual, but hasn't "demonstrated" his "inclinations" yet? What are they going to do if it turns out that Noodle likes lounging with the flights because he has as yet unrecognized intersex traits, and he suddenly sprouts a set of wings to rival Sunshine's? What then?

But you can't ask. You're silent with horror.

Because dorats don't act like that. They don't develop sexual rivalries. If two set their eyes on the same mate, their competitions don't escalate past wrapping their tails around each other and rolling around, or battering each other ineffectively with their wings and hissing until someone gives up. Often, the competition stops early when the potential mate demonstrates a willingness to produce an egg with each. Two competing over one would never escalate to the point where it would pose a threat to their ability to healthily cohabitate or cooperate.

Unless the dorats are in miserable, confined, stressed conditions. So stressed their natural empathy shuts down so they don't have to feel their peers' suffering, so miserable that losing a chance to mate means losing a chance at what may be the only pleasurable activity they're allowed, so confined that they can't flee from an infuriated rival or an unwanted mate. The kind of conditions found in illegal doratfighting pits or unlicensed breeding mills.

What the hell is the military putting their dorats through that they have to be concerned about sexual rivalries?

How the hell did their previous sets of dorats die, for this "compatibility" to be their top criteria?

What the hell are they going to do to Noodle, Sunshine, and Pineapple?

You look through the window in your office door, where you can see your dorats. You spot Pineapple first, trying to climb one of the chains anchoring an aerie to the ground by twisting about it and inching himself up. Noodle is sleeping in a pile of flights, one leg sticking up inelegantly. Sunshine you finally spot high above, peering over the side of an aerie, watching Pineapple climb. There is nothing you want more than to run out there, scoop the three of them up, and carry them somewhere far away.

But you can't defy Controller 0. The best you could hope to do, now that you understand the military's criteria, is try to suggest a better trio; but each and every little dorat out there is just as precious as Noodle, Sunshine, or Pineapple. You can't sacrifice any of them in their stead.

The military representatives give you a moment. Then Scientist 2 takes back the dossiers. Soldier 1 says, "If you have no objections, we are prepared to take them now."

You say nothing.

"Very well."

###

You'd like to think that you're putting on a good show of stoicism for the military representatives. But the moment you step outside your office, you're swarmed by concerned dorats desperate to comfort you. Under the circumstances, it only makes you more miserable.

You reassure them as well as you can, push them off, and begin collecting the three... specimens.

Noodle flails when you scoop him up, but once it's clear you plan to drape him over one shoulder, he clambers around to position himself: head draped over your chest, tail tip dangling past your butt, claws curled into your chain mail shirt for stability. He flicks his tongue at your chin in concern a couple of times, then droops down and almost immediately falls back asleep.

You have to shake the chain Pineapple's climbing to get his attention, but he sees how Noodle's laying and copies him on your other shoulder. He covers your head with one wing as he scrambles onto you, but once he's settled he nuzzles against your cheek, attempting to cheer you up. You feel his confusion as he presses his head against yours.

You don't even need to whistle to get Sunshine's attention. He's already watching you—or maybe watching Pineapple on your shoulder. You point at the ground and stamp a foot, and Sunshine, well-trained, glides down off his perch and flops at your feet. You don't have any shoulders left for him, but he stays close, rubbing his head between your shins. Smaller dorats sometimes weave between their owners' legs when they want their attention or want to comfort them; when they get too big for that, sometimes they do this instead. You rub him just behind his jaw, partially to thank him for the attention and partially to coax him out from between your legs so you can walk, and you take all three of them to the door where the military representatives are waiting.

Their ship is just outside. A compartment in the back is already open. At least the dorats aren't going to be in separate cages. You pat inside the compartment, and Sunshine jumps up and in, followed by Pineapple slithering off your shoulder. Sunshine immediately huddles in a back corner, watching as Pineapple explores the space. You have to slide Noodle off yourself, and he stirs and sits up as you set him down.

"You three are getting adopted by the military," you tell them. You feel guilty, like you're lying to them, even though it's not technically untrue and even if it was they wouldn't understand you. "Be good for them, okay? The future of X depends on its soldiers."

"Make your farewell quick," Soldier 1 says stiffly. You're probably lucky that you get to say farewell at all.

You force a smile, lean into the ship, and tug them close one by one to press your forehead against theirs. You focus your entire mind on your love for them instead of your worry. "Noodle. Sunshine. Pineapple." You say their names as you're touching them; this will probably be the last time they ever hear them. You pull back from Pineapple before he can pick up on your sudden sadness. "Stay safe."

You step back and Soldier 4 closes the compartment.

You watch from the door as the ship takes off and disappears into the sky.

###

You never see them again.

###

That's not true. If it was true, it would be less painful.

Years pass. You have a daughter; she grows, takes over the family business, and has a daughter and a child of her own. You start giving talks about dorat behavior.

After one of your talks, a soldier waits in the back while the chairs empty and the people who lingered behind speak to you. Only when they're gone does xe approach you. A generation has passed since you last saw xem, and xe looks far older; but you still recognize xir face instantly. An ache that you haven't felt in years stirs in your chest again. "Soldier 1," you say, nodding.

Xe nods back. "Specialist 8." And before you can question the title, xe offers you a new clearance badge.

###

There's a heavy, oppressive feel in the lab, although you can't tell why. It's clean, well-lit. There's no signs of suffering. But the air weighs down on you anyway.

Maybe it's because you're on a moon. You've never been on a world with a sky that's always black. You feel like you're clinging to the side of a marble hurtling alone through the void.

Something about the oppressive feeling is familiar.

"At this point, we doubt the fact that you raised our specimens will give you any particular insight into them," Specialist 3 tells you as xe escorts you down the hall. "We have, after all, been working with them for far longer than you knew them. But we're very impressed with your expertise on dorat psychology."

You've already been told that they're still working with the three "specimens" you gave them. You're relieved they've survived this long. They'll be getting near old age by now. You wonder if they were ever allowed to interact with any other dorats. You wonder if the three of them were enough company for each other. Dorats that aren't pets usually live in groups with at least a dozen adults, and pets benefit from regular opportunities to socialize with other dorats. Did they ever get those opportunities? Did they ever go outside? Did they give their flight morph enough chances to fly?

You suspect not. You don't know why you suspect not. Something about the heaviness in the air.

As Specialist 3 approaches a massive set of double doors and slows down, you realize what about the heaviness is familiar: it feels like entering a doratfighting pit to rescue the captive dorats. This is what it feels like when dozens of dorats' empathy have collapsed and crumpled in, forming a dense despairing ball of shut down and suppressed emotions. They can't cope with their own misery, much less their peers', and so they close in on themselves. Your hand flutters up to your head, pressing your temple where you can feel the psychic weight.

But this is so much heavier than you've ever felt before. There must be hundreds, thousands—"How many dorats are kept in this facility?"

Specialist 3 hesitates. "Just the three," xe says. "Maybe some of the scientists have personal pets in their quarters, but I doubt it. They wouldn't want to bring their pets to this environment."

You don't think xe's talking about the airless moon. Xir gaze flicks to your hand pressed to your temple, and xe says, "You see what I mean."

"This can't be just three. How?"

"You'll see. This is what you're here to address." Specialist 3's hand hovers over the door controls. "Moment of truth," xe says. "From here on out, everything you see is absolutely classified. Controller 0 values the secrecy of this information more than your life. If you tell anyone..."

You nod. You know. It was spelled out to you very explicitly. Any intel leaks that can be traced to you mean the execution of ME-319, ME-320, and ME-321: you, your daughter, your granddaughter. The termination of the ME matrilineage. Of course, you'll never tell—but you're terrified that someday, someone else might, and the blame will accidentally fall on your family. You would have refused to take this assignment if you could have; but you have to comply when Controller 0 comes knocking.

Specialist 3 nods and opens the door.

You step through and the weight closes in on your mind so heavily it feels like your vision is going black around the edges.

For a moment, you can't understand what you're looking at. The room resembles a ship hangar, but directly in front of you is what looks like a mountain of gold coins. No, not coins. Scales?

The mountain shifts.

You fall to your knees.

It's a massive, monstrous mutant. Ugly knotted scars thicker than your torso run between its necks and down its chest. It's all spines, and claws, and horns, and fangs—its fangs alone are half the length of your body. You didn't know creatures this large could survive outside the vacuum of space. You can tell, just from looking at it, that it's nothing but a weapon of mass destruction.

And it has three heads. And it has the broad wings of one flight morph and the long tails of two spinetail morphs. And it has numb, delirious despair in its eyes.

There are massive collars around each of its necks and cuffs around its ankles and tails; chains anchor each collar and cuff to the ground. In a grotesque parody of rings on fingers, piercings jab through its wing membranes and wrap around each of its phalanges; short chains connect the piercings to each other, forcing it to keep its phalanges together and its wings closed. It spasms and growls—its growl is so loud you can feel the floor beneath you vibrate—and then goes limp on the floor; and then spasms again; and whimpers; and goes limp again.

You try to ask a question, but all you can do is mouth the word, "What," silently.

"Meet Monster 0," Specialist 3 says. "Codename: King, if you prefer."

You want to be sick. Of all the things you feared, never in your worst nightmares...

"You can see the problem," xe goes on. "He's totally shut down emotionally. We can make him move—we've got the technology to force him to move—but we can't force him to feel again. The experiment is only a partial success as long as his empathic abilities are turned off. If we have to, we can move forward with this alone. But I've seen your writing on rehabilitating doratfighting rescues; if there's any way you can... Hey, where—?"

You're not listening to xem anymore. You've found your feet and you're rushing down the stairs so fast you miss a few steps and almost fall, heading for the main floor of the hangar—hangar? kennel? prison? You sprint for the heads of the mangled creatures. The other soldiers and scientists on the floor, seeing you approach—wearing a jingling chainmail tunic and a look of fury the likes of which Controller 0's perfectly emotionally repressed soldiers would never display—dive out of your way.

You head straight for Monster 0's faces.

Each face towers above you. Their heads are lying on the ground and you still have to look up to meet their eyes. They don't look anything like themselves anymore. Their distinctive scales—the flaky white gold, the electric yellow, the spiky green-tinged brownish gold—all gone, replaced by a uniform dull, pallid brass. The heads, distorted and altered as they were forced to this unnatural size, could have come from triplets. If you hadn't been told they were your dorats, you wouldn't have recognized them.

The head on the monster's right growls as you approach, bearing his fangs threateningly, but his eyes are glazed. The one in the middle flinches and squeezes his already shut eyes tighter closed, as if he can dream his way through this and wake up somewhere else. Only the one on the monster's left manages to focus, looking at you tiredly, studying you.

You know then. You know.

"Oh, my babies." You look up at them, between each of their faces, throat tight. "This isn't you."

The one on the left slowly leans in—does he recognize you? The right one's eyes are beginning to clear.

You reach out to touch the left one's snout, then the middle one. "I'm so sorry they did this to you. This isn't who you are."

Slowly, the right one drags his head toward you as well. The middle one's eyes crack open tiredly. You can feel their exhalations washing over you in gusts; you hear their lungs roaring like wind through a canyon.

"Do you remember who you're supposed to be?" You don't hide any of your emotions from them this time. Love pours out along with pity and grief. You lean against them, one at a time, pressing your forehead to their snouts: Specimen 1, 2, then 3; middle, right, and left; and you tell them their names: "Noodle. Sunshine. Pineapple."

Their eyes shoot wide open. An electric wave snaps over their skin, jolting you hard enough that you stumble back.

Two soldiers rush up to take your arms and tug you back, and for a moment you're so disoriented you can't tell if you're being rescued or arrested. The vision-blackening pressure on your mind has lifted all at once, so fast you feel lightheaded. The three dorats lift their heads as high as their chains will allow them, looking at each other as though they've only noticed each other for the first time; or perhaps looking at themselves through each other's eyes?

And then the rage hits you—like stepping outside at the most deathly hot peak of summer and walking into a wall of heat. Rage so thick it's like a tangible force, rage so overbearing you immediately break out in a sweat.

Then they raise their heads, and they sing.

That's the only word you have for it. It's a sound like you've never heard before. Dorats coo, or croon, or caterwaul; but this is singing. Three notes, high and quivering; a discordant chord, tremolo, in clear soprano voices; a wail that nearly sounds Xilien.

Something in the chord pierces straight into your psyche. You can feel your heart break, your future vanish, your every reason for living shrivel up and dissolve. You lose everything in a second. All that's left is keen, soul-throttling despair. Nothing matters. Everything is over.

From somewhere far outside the black hole in your mind, you hear soldiers who might not have expressed a single emotion in decades break down in sobs.

And still the dorats are singing like they're trying to end the world. Their necks raised, their back arched, their legs straining, their wings trembling. One by one, the chains pinning their left wing shut begin to snap.

You sink past despair into apathy.

###

Your spirits are still low when you wake up in the med bay, but at least you're no longer ready to die.

You remember what it felt like, though. You'll always remember what it felt like.

You're being tended to by Nurse 4. Once xe's established that you're of sound mind, xe places a call, and a couple of minutes later Soldier 1 and Specialist 3 come in.

They both look haggard. Soldier 1 has superficial scratches high on the side of xir neck where public officials in direct contact with Controller 0 get their implants. "Well done," xe says wearily. "Controller 0 finds your technique questionable, but approves of your fast results. You'll be sent home with high commendations—but don't expect to be called in to do that again."

Somewhere far away, you think you can feel anger, throbbing. Like the beginning of a pounding headache.

You process Soldier 1's statement backwards and in pieces. "Again?" How many more were they going to put through that torture? And then: "Fast results? You—you knew? You wanted this? This...?"

You gesture at your own head, trying to somehow indicate the feeling of your entire life falling to pieces.

Specialist 3 clears xir throat. Soldier 1 glances away. "Among other things, our experiments aimed to enhance Monster 0's inborn capacity to project emotions. Weaponize it, if you will."

You can only gape at xem.

Specialist 3 says, "We had no idea he'd develop a means to project them vocally." Xir voice is hoarse. "This is a... fascinating side effect of his modifications."

"Although one that reduces his usefulness in vacuums," Soldier 1 says.

Usefulness for what? What are they going to use them for?

You feel despair creep over you again.

###

As promised, you're awarded a slew of high commendations from Controller 0 before you go home. You never speak of them again.

Controller 0 also assigns you a therapist with a clearance level high enough for you to speak freely about your experience. You only visit xem a few times. Once you pass Soldier 4 in the waiting room. You didn't realize xe lives nearby. You didn't realize xe had been on the moon.

It's three more years before you, along with everyone else, see the news of the first planet conquered by X's new living weapon, "King." You tune out the hollow military propaganda singing their new weapon's praises as you watch the footage brought back from that distant world. All you can see in the dorats' eyes is hatred.

In another few years, your granddaughter becomes the first of your matrilineage in centuries not to take over the family dorat breeding business. Instead, she joins the military. Science branch. She received an invitation directly from Controller 0 itself.

She gushes about the opportunity to use your family's dorat expertise to work with the famous Monster 0—and perhaps to help make and train more monsters. After all, "0" is the number reserved for prototypes. Rumors have been swirling for years.

Before she leaves for basic training, you pull her aside, take a risk that could endanger your whole family, and whisper Monster 0's true names to her.

###

To the end of your life, you will fear that your meeting with your three dorats—your meeting with the thing they became—only made things worse for them.

You will never know that, years after your natural death, what you reawakened in them will give them the strength to escape.

#####

(Replies/reblogs are welcome & encouraged! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

[imagine-loki]

A Warrior’s Life

TITLE: A Warrior’s Life

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Ninety-Six

AUTHOR: wolfpawn ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Viking Loki coming to your village, raiding, and pillaging, before deciding there is something about you that intrigues him and deciding to take you back to Asgard with him. There, you are forced to learn a new life and language, and though you hate what has happened to you, you learn that Loki is not as bad as you think.

RATING: Mature

When she got there, Danu was awake, sitting in the farthest corner from the door, looking terrified but relieved to see her mother. Maebh smiled reassuringly once she was untied and opened her arms for her daughter to come to her. ‘Where were you?’

‘I needed to do something, but it's okay now, I promise I am doing everything I can to make sure we both get out of this. I had to tell them about your little brother.’

‘Will they hurt him?’

‘No, they have other plans for me and he will be born before they come to pass.’

‘What if he is not?’

‘Remember your dream, you and him joking together about which of you looks more like your father, you do not have dreams like that about things you will never do, those dreams tell us our future, that is your future, you and your brother joking, older and safe.’ She held Danu against her kissing her forehead and stroking her hair trying to get her daughter to calm. She was about to reassure her once more, when the room door was opened, three heavily armoured men stood in the doorway as a young girl, one that looked almost the same age as Danu, stood shaking with terror holding a plate of food. ‘Do you think I would hurt a little child?’ Maebh snarled looking at the men. ‘I do not hurt the young, the old, or the infirm, I leave that to you filthy pigs.’

‘Just have the brat get the food before I decide to take it away again,’ One of them growled.

‘Danu, go get the food from the little girl, she will not hurt you, the men will not hurt you, she is just as scared as you are, they have probably told her that you will hurt her.’ She ordered her daughter.

Danu rose to her feet gingerly, and altered her gaze starting between the girl, the food, and the guards, as made her way across the room. When she was about two feet from the girl, she slowly and carefully extended her hands to take a plate. the girl acted as though she has almost been stung when Danu’s fingers touched hers. Luckily, even in her hungered and weakened state, Danu had enough wits about her to keep tight hold of the plate as the girl leapt backwards and away from the child she had been told was a vicious demon. Out of her reach, the girl pulled out some wooden beads and began to make a chant that terrified Danu who looked to her mother in hopes of an explanation.

‘I told you before that's around I grew up on is different to ours, this is what they do when they pray to their god.’

‘But why?’

‘If I am honest, I never understood.’ She shrugged. ‘Bring your food, you need to eat.’

‘What about you?’

‘I have survived far worse than this.’ her mother smiled reassuringly.

‘What about the baby, what will he eat?’

‘He takes what you need from me.’

‘Is that why you are starting to look sick? If you do not eat, then what is in your belly for the baby to eat?’

‘They need me to be weak, if they give me too much food, I will be stronger and more likely to slit every one of their throats.’

‘But if you get too weak, will Einar get sick?’

Maebh sighed, ‘Please Darling, eat, you have not eaten in so long, much longer, and you will not be able to eat at all, your stomach will become ill if you try to. Eat slowly and chew everything carefully.’

‘This food looks silly, it is in water.’

‘It is a stew, a very common meal here, tasty and filling, you will go the rest of today not feeling hungry.’

‘Why does this place looks like bread?’

‘Because it is, when you finish the stew, you eat the bread.’ Maebh watched as her daughter meekly took a bite of a piece of meat and began to chew as her mother instructed making disgruntled faces because of the lumps of fat stuck to the meat, but before long, hunger won out, and Danu did not care whether or not the meat was fatty and ate without comment. She had almost completed the stew when her eyes began to close, she yawned and gently put the food down on the ground inside her before curling up in her little straw bed, and quickly drifted to sleep.

In her own hunger, Maebh moved forward and took the soggy meal from the floor, picking off dirt and straw and ate it. She looked at her daughter guiltily, hoping that her hunger had caused her stomach to shrink in the days that she had not eaten so she would not be hungry again when she woke. She did not wish to take her daughters food, but she did have to protect the one in her too, meaning she had to eat. If their captors were not to feed her, then she needed to make do with whatever food Danu left behind. She had most of it eaten when she realised they were not alone in the room, in the far corner, alone and terrified was a small black and grey and somewhat ugly looking young bird, it clearly was too old to be a new hatchling yet the grey fluffy Downy feathers told her it was too young to fly as of yet, she was uncertain how it has gotten into the room, but she wagered it too was hungry. She broke off a bit of the soggy bread as well as a few pieces of carrots and potatoes and one piece of meat that was mostly fat, she gently got to her feet and slowly made her way over to the part of the room by the small creature was now frantically trying to get away from her. She placed the food on the floor not too far from it and back the way. after a moment of being terrified the small animal’s hunger won out and it began to eat what she had left for it. Feeling somewhat proud of herself, Maebh start up against the wall behind her daughter and attempted to get some sleep.

No one came near the room the rest of the evening, the only reason Maebh knew morning had arrived was because every last bird in Midgard seemed to wish to inform everyone on the realm of such.

For three days, 2 meals a day were brought to the room for Danu to eat, every second day, some was brought for Maebh. In the captivity, the baby moved often but did not reveal itself in a manner that's indicated that Maebh was as far along into her pregnancy as she claimed, leaving the men feeling as though she had lied to them, for what purpose, they were not able to tell. The bird, seemingly realising that need Maebh nor Danu meant it any harm, became tamer each passing day, actively coming over after the food was given to see what Maebh would give it. Even on the days where she only ate what Danu left after her, she insured to give the small creature some.

On the fourth day, the man that owned the dwelling they were in came to the doorway with his guards and looked at the pair. He studied Danu carefully, grinning in a manner that scared the little girl, but being her mother's daughter she did not let it show, instead, she glared right back at him, but not letting go of her mother. ‘I still do not think you carry.’

‘I still do not care what you think.’

‘I am having a midwife look at you, if you are lying, you will be made pay.’

‘I hope she is not afraid of death.’

‘You will be tied to a table and surrounded by guards, I would like to see what you think you can do.’

‘I am capable of many many things, you will regret wondering such when the time is right.’

‘You make a lot of threats for one who is apparently pregnant and also who's daughter we have here too.’

‘I do not make idle threats.’

‘Who do you think will fight with you? You are on this land now, your Barbarians are not here to protect you, and those in the land you have allowed them to take would not dream of coming here, because they know they are outnumbered, three to one.’

‘Considering I assume they do not know where I even am, I would not be expecting them to help me.’ She dismissed.

The man's face fell, ‘If you are not confident of their helping you, what gives you confidence?’

‘I have something you will never have, I am something you will never be, I see things you said never see.’ She stated cryptically. ‘Now, have someone empty the chamber pot, it is getting somewhat full.’

‘The child will do it.’

‘If either of us is doing it it is me.’ Maebh rose to her feet, she rubbed her stomach or she just felt a kick as she did so. Looking down it was clear the baby has moved, she was beginning to look at though she was carrying again, but nowhere near as long into it as she claimed. she looked at the man and indicated to her stomach. ‘I did say I was carrying, did I not?’

‘You still look nothing near what you state you are.’

‘Well considering this morning I did not look like I was carrying at all… Do you think of some sort of dark magic?’ she grinned evilly. ‘Perhaps a demon child grows within me, do you think that possible? Do you think I made a deal with a demon, have me appear to be with child, or put one of its own in me to stave any plans you may have?’ She noted his hand going to a large gold crucifix around his neck. ‘Am I making you uncomfortable, does my talking of demons scare you?’ She sneered. ‘I always found it laughable, men thinking they are strong and brave, but as soon as they hear of little story of a man in the sky looking at them, judging them, and of another creature below, waiting to drag their ugly and fat asses into the fiery pits of Eternity, they whimper like puppies taken from the teat, scared and spineless.’ The Lord said nothing more before closing the door. Maebh gave a loud laugh before talking loudly so that her voice would carry through the door, ‘On Asgard there are many gods, of which most of my family are named after, it will be interesting to see the earthly counterparts invoke their wraiths when they find out what you have done, I would not like to be one of your men stationed in Vanaheim, I do not receive them living past this winter.’ . ‘They will not get to you.’ The man shouted back.

‘I do not think they will,’ she laughed manically, ‘But that does not mean that they cannot make you pay. Have a good night's sleep Lord Conor, for each sleep you have, brings us all closer to the end, for you, at least.’

The man froze, unsure and terrified of how she had come to learn his name. Panic began to set in as he recalled her words regarding a demon and be began to pray once more, terrified that he had brought some form of demon into his home and of what she carried in her.

[oelfinessend]

For all that you have thought

Time to dump my fic drafts here! 

Or, where Loki is an actual god and I explore the incomprehensiveness of the concept and differences in biology. Unbeta-ed and really, is very raw. 

Loki moves in his prison like a creature unknown, born in all the worlds and none, created among the stars with the sole purpose of being confusing. The guards try to not look at their former commander and thus miss the way he sometimes flinches and cocks his head and turns slightly to look somewhere past glittering walls.

The tickle is annoying at best, but mostly aggravating; Loki can’t pinpoint its source or origins, his mind constantly distracted by that same non-corporeal itch. Some days it’s almost gone and some he is ready to break something, not at all unlike a mindless brute, which is the only reason Loki keeps himself in control.

After one particularly intense bout of distraction he arrives to the conclusion that it is Odin who allows this - not the great punishment, but a mediocre, annoying distraction, that will, unfortunately yet unerringly, lead Loki’s vast mind into ruin. So he grits his teeth and focuses in it, trying as the process might be, catches the illusive thread and smiles as he finally, finally pinpoints it; it has been centuries since they were banned from Midgard, and even then, during his last stay there had never been a plethora of those who would call Loki their own.

But those who would, followed him always.

Loki smiles, inhales and pulls back.

For a lesser being, an ignorant As, or flighty Ljosalfr it would be impossible to right themselves and become the master of the summons, but Loki has been delving deep into knowledge lost and vaults forgotten, he has taught himself what Bor decided to bury forever under the bones and ashes of svartalfar, who had skirted on the edge since their suns were young.

Loki twists himself among the calling threads of rude, invading seidr, tugs at them gently and finally as soon as the oppressive presence of Hlidskjalf is no more on his back, Loki spreads his own will and might and is finally free.

He manifests a splaying shadow among the ruined, blood-soaked stones. Here, the ancient rituals are still carried in the very ground underneath his bare feet. At first Loki thinks that it’s a peculiar coincidence that the new blood awoke the old and he was called, but he cannot recall that place of worship, and he has never liked when all finesse and knowledge of proper calling was cast aside in favour of massive sacrifices.

There are three runes of his, even if arranged improperly, carved with unsure but strong hand in the altar; they are the ones that ensure that Loki hears the pleas, and old victims of this place only helped the prayers to reach him through the thick magicks of Asgard. They, and Odin’s own dismissal; Loki was released from Asgard’s numbers, cast from it’s seidr’s protective shroud and thus became immune to All-Father’s ban of influencing mortals.

Loki’s laugh is everything dark and triumphant as he makes himself visible above the stone. He is not a deity in this moment - so much more, fed by stolen worship-power and his own joy, and the disbelief and elation his summoners feel, the despair and anguish their victims fall into, it all is directed at him, in him, and Loki drinks it all, formless and bright in his blackness, like a sky of stars or nocturnal waters.

The summoner who crawls towards him, Loki knows, is babbling something, but even so drunk on power he is not mindless and so he turns his head - a nebula of singing movement - to the girl spread out on the hard stones.

  why her he wants to know and so his question is heard. The child is nude, and thin and hungry. Loki wished her mind was calm and so she sleeps, and sees the pink skies of Alfheimr shine with predawn.

  she is frail, small and lacking in knowledge Loki’s musings is more of a presence in mind than a voice, a sound wave.

  what is a higher being to do with such a gift and how to crown such a thought

Loki whispers on his many terrible legs across the blood-remembering stones and symbols calling for gods he knows not, recalls not and cares for not.

Eight mortals was given to him so far - five more are awaiting him still; but Loki has no need for blood, no desire for power, no lust for idle madmen’s worship.

He sighs - the water flows to sky from springs nearby and the altar turns to dust, the girl, still sleeping, covered with a blanket made of his will.

  children are but promises of future Loki finally deigns to hum, turning the ground he reclines on to glass, and the one who waited to put a knife to frail mortal skin just turns into nothing.

Among the frenzied, crazed thoughts bombarding him there is one of clarity; vicious and pointed, there is satisfaction, dark victory and even darker gratefulness Loki feels turned onto him, onto his shapeless, many-faceted being, That’s better.

Many burning, blackless eyes turn onto the man called Jake and Loki becomes Jake for as much as a frail and little mortal mind can allow; and so Jake becomes Loki, for as much as he can bear to witness the form not fit to shape itself on mortal, corporeal planes of Earth.

Jake is a simple man, an accountant who likes his job enough, loves his husband very much and their girls even more. Him and Mike have been planning this trip for almost two years and the twins were ecstatic, and he doesn’t want to die, having heard now every scream those motherfuckers wrought out of other people in their group; but Jake also is grateful it was him who got to ride in the second bus, and not Mike, because poor Isa is only a year and a half older than his girls, and he would have probably gone insane already if either of them was here.

He wishes every last one of those motherfuckers dead, surely but slowly, excruciatingly dead, for every scream they wrought out of poor Ann and Sarah - they were eighty, for fuck’s sake - and sweet little Rose (she was five, five, at five Emma was playing pranks at Sophie and driving both Mike and Jake up the walls) and her poor lab, slightly crazy Derek, Carl, that strange chick who had five names, so Jake didn’t address her and called That Chick in his head, Paul and Tom, unfortunate heirs to a frankly mediocre fortune.

But Isa is sleeping and smiling in her sleep and something has just swallowed the raving lunatic up or maybe disintegrated him, Jake doesn’t care; he wants them gone and to be finally at peace.

what peace is there while you still live The Voice again is in his head, knocking out thoughts and making room for Itself. Jake’s brain can keep up with what that mind part of him is perceiving - a shape among the roads paved with comets, a mind cradling his own and shaping the very air to make a room for Itself. The Voice is filling his body now, a herald of the Mind, which Jake is helpless to push against, but he is not going to - he is bared, so he can take in return.

He knows -

There was a man, a woman, someone, long time ago for them of everchanging Earth, who caught the glimpse of the Mind, like that, and accepted, fully, the knowledge of Its existence and presence, agreed to be the latch and burden.

A balance between living the life for themselves and being devoted to something you have to let go to fully grasp is the only sort of prayer Loki takes, covets, a greedy being, the benefactor of the scholars of Asgard.

Among the dirtied and craven shouts of blood-spillers, Jake’s thought is clear and aimed right at him, at Loki, so Loki will bow so, turn to him who has freed himself to see as much as was allowed; as such will Jake belong to Loki, now; his sight was claimed, his freedom, settled.

And that is fine, Jake knows, if fall, then why not onto the stars?

The flow of mangled seidr ends as soon as the last of madmen is crushed under Loki’s will; as such, he is no longer torn apart by their expectations of him, fear of him and greed for him, his own unwillingness to take a useless corporeal form, or which one to choose. The girl is sleeping still, the blanket turned into leaves, three mortals have become senseless somewhen after his arrival and only his Jake still stands and watches, somewhat detachedly, as Loki allows his form to settle into one he is most used to, then shapes the matter around him into clothing, nondescript but suited for him nonetheless. He may be disowned, he is not lacking in pride.

Thin trickle of awareness is still present - will be until the end of the mortal’s short life, Loki already knows - and it gives him warmth as nothing else.

“What, are you, like, my- my god, or something?” Jake stutters, watches him, pale and drawn, unsure.

“I am Loki, first, last and always.” Loki simply answers and that seems to settle the mortal.

They have a long way to go - there is already a restlessness rising in Jake’s chest, a desire to know what comes next, and as much as Loki can relate, he is displeased, because he laid claim and all questions not to him but about him have become redundant.

No matter, he shifts, yawning, into a canine-like shape and trods away from humans, sniffing at the air and spreading his seidr wide to catch a glimpse of a creature he can mirror.

In a few minutes, there is a howl, ringing through Venezuelan forests; in a few hours, a member of searching party glimpses some animal running from what appers a mutilated human arm, another four hours later, Jake is ushered into a shock blanket as he stares, unblinking, at the black and gold snake resting on the glass of the helicopter, seemingly not bothering the pilot. It opens its mouth, showing two rows of serrated but human-looking teeth, sniggers and twists, turning birdlike as it dissolves into goldish mist.

[gear-project]

Ramlethal Valentine Bio & Trivia

==Ramlethal Valentine==

"Emotions... are important!"

==Profile==

Height: 5'6" Weight: 115 lbs. Blood Type: Unknown Birthplace: The Backyard Birthday: June 3rd Eye Color: Gold Hobbies: None (Currently learning to be a Narcissist) Favorite Thing: None (Recently it's Danny Missile's Burgers and Steaks) Dislikes: Anthropods Weapon: Twin Mechanical Katanas wielded by Lucifero Familiars Belpha and Venus

==Story (GGXrdS)==

<Sign>

October 21st, 2187 12:12 P.M., Ruins of Japan

It is here, for the first time, that Ramlethal appears and acts as a spokesperson for the Conclave, declaring War against Humanity.

Her declaration was recorded around the world... The wheels of conspiracy had begun, and Ramlethal lay at the center of it all.

But even in her capture... there was nothing to be gained.  She was simply a "Pawn" in this strategy, after all.

Or at least, that was what it seemed.

==Story (GGXrdRev1)==

<Revelator>

During Ramlethal's time with Sin and Elphelt, she began to understand what it meant to be Human.

But even siding with Humanity and revealing the Conclave's plot wasn't the end of everything.  The world still had "Mother" to contend with.

And with her sister Elphelt missing, Ramlethal could not stand idly by.

Even if she had to risk her life, she would bring her sister back!

==Story (GGXrdRev2)==

<After Story: Part 1>

Though things took a dangerous turn, Ramlethal was still alive and recovering from her injuries.

But the truth that she was connected with Justice and the Gears, not to mention the Kiske family, might be tough for the public to swallow.

What sort of Future would happen now that the 'current danger' was Past?

Will Humanity evolve like Mother wanted?

==Personality Profile==

The Life Forms known as Valentines are born in the Backyard, and have no emotions.  They do not grasp concepts like Right, Wrong, Like, Dislike, or Value ---apart from desiring the completion of their missions.  As such, orders from the entity they call "Mother" are absolute.  They have no sense of affection, but no feelings of doubt or restraint either-- only a machine-like determination to see their mission completed.

<Recently, it was discovered that Second Generation Valentines were given Emotions, but these were restricted within their command infrastructure.  In place of emotionless autonomous behavior, they behaved much more Human-like, but still valued Loyalty to "Mother" called the "Universal Will", otherwise known as the "Merciless Apocalypse".  Despite Ramlethal's dry personality, she is truly sincere to her feelings and has chosen to "correct" her Mother's thinking, rather than simply betray her, if only to regain her lost Sister, Elphelt.  As of now, she is overcoming what she lacks in emotions and beginning to understand true "Freedom".>

==Move List== ———————————Specials Daure [Continuation] "Dauro" Flama Cargo [Flame Hold] Sildo Detruo [Shield Destroyer] Cassius Marteli [Stress] ->Forpeli [Expel] ———————————Overdrive/Chaos Attack Calvados Transe [The Other Side] "Trance" Explode ———————————Instant Kill Animo Estingi [Soul Extinguisher] ———————————

==Trivia== ——————————— ---Ramlethal's name comes from the compound "Ramming Speed" and "Lethality"... which fits, since she's both deadly and fast! Certainly beats what people first called her "Ramletherl".  Ram also refers to "R.A.M." or "Random Access Memory" found in Computers. ---Based on recent history, it seems Elphelt is actually Ramlethal's "Older Sister" since she was created first. ---It's been tradition since GG2 Overture that Valentines have lengthy idle conversations with Lucifero about something or other. Lucifero often hits on Ramlethal, boasting how manly he is, but is often told to go self-destruct. His most recent conversation in Rev2 is that he suspects the reason Ramlethal developed emotions is because she's "In Love"! Of course, she told him to (once again) go self-destruct! ---The clothing labels that were synthesized on Ramlethal and Elphelt suggest they were to be sacrificed for the cause of reviving Justice. This speaks volumes of the feelings between them and their "Mother" (Ariels).   Despite this, Ariels asked Sol to look after them as her "last hope" in Humanity. ---In a twist of events, while Ramlethal tried to self-destruct, Elphelt stopped her... and when Elphelt tried to self-destruct, Ramlethal stopped her. It's a wonder why Ariels created such an ability between the two sisters. ---During Ram's Animo Estingi, it's revealed her large blades aren't actually "blades" per se, as sheathes for her REAL Katanas! ---Along with Leo Whitefang, she and he are the first two characters in Guilty Gear History to wield two swords at once! ---It's suspected that Ramlethal reminds Bedman of his Sister "Delilah", and so after after Xrd Sign, he refuses to fight with her. ---Her first appearance in Japan is ironically the very spot that was destroyed by Justice in 2074, which makes sense, Since her Soul is a derivative of Justice, even her Hobby of "Narcissism" is the same as Justice! Her large swords even evoke the size and scope of Justice' Michael Sword! ---Ramlethal has exhibited cat-like behaviors in her movements, from claw swipes to even arching her back in her crouching idle animation. This seems to be related to how Gears originated from Animal and Human DNA, so Ramlethal is a hybrid of a sort. ---In case it's not obvious her Idle animation is showing her Coat is "Yawning", since it's technically a giant Mouth with teeth. ---It's been joked that Ramlethal's "Toothy Grin" is similar to Taokaka's of BlazBlue, though we've never actually seen Tao's face, it might look similar to Ramlethal's! ———————————

==References== ——————————— ---Many of Ramlethal's moves are based in Esperanto language.   Esperanto is said to historically be the "universal language" that anyone could learn and speak in construct. The idea being conveyed here is that Valentines can eventually connect with Humans and come to an understanding. ---Cassius, Judas, and Brutus were all traitors swallowed by the demon Lucifer in the Divine Comedy "Dante's Inferno". ---Transe is a dual-reference to "The Other Side" (The Backyard), and to the genre of Trance Music.  Trance Metal does exist too! "See you on the Other Side" is a single by Ozzy Osbourne. ---Calvados is a type of Apple Cider, based on the original Valentine's theme of "Maid Cafe Sweets". ---The Band Damageplan did a single "Explode". ---Moscow-based Russian Power Gothic Metal Band "Andem" did a Full Length song titled "Ex Animo". ———————————

The Future... won't be for a while, so this will have to do!

[wonderfulchaos69-blog]

tagged!

@mikoe24 - this looked interesting, so I stayed up a bit later than intended working on it xD Thanks for the tag, love, and I’ll be having some Mikuni and Misono headcanons for you after my hiatus is up! (which will be a week ahead of time, woohoo!)

Rules: Always post the rules. Answer the questions asked, then write eleven new ones. Tag eleven people to answer your questions as well as the person who tagged you.

Pokki’s Questions

1. Do you have any OCs? If so, what are their name(s)?

I have quite a few, yes. I have an entire next gen cast for Natsume's Book of Friends, for a story I have been working on for two years. It recently hit 100k and I am still dead sure this will never see the light of day, lol. It's so self indulgent. For right now it has the working title of Elegy for the Lost One and it takes place in a future where Natsume disappeared under strange circumstances. Thrillers are what I like writing the most - suspense, the build-up to it, and then the inevitable fall as you start putting the pieces together.

Now to give you the run-down on the OCS, haha. So first up is Shiori, who I decided would be a daughter to Natori and Hiiragi. I am always curious about youkai/human relations and how they work in the Book of Friends universe, and I chose to play around with that using Shiori. She takes after her father a lot - flashy, bold, a real show stopper. But she has her mother's sensibility and loyalty. And since I'm mentioning Natori, I might as well bring up Matoba. I ended up giving him a son that develops an unparalleled obsession with the Book of Friends. Then there's Takahiro, Hiromi and Haruki who are the main cast and the ones that the story focuses on the most. They're the ones trying to solve the mystery. Meanwhile, there's Makoto, who is the would-be inherited of the Book of Friends. She is a relative to Natsume, distantly, through Natsume's cousin (Yuuto, if the drama cds are to be believed~).

Then, for an original story I'm working on, I have a few solid characters so far. Annabel, a steadfast young woman who is independant to a fault and doesn't know to ask others for help. She's thrown into a situation where she has no choice but to lean on others - or in this case, on one person in particular. A mentor, a friend, a guiding hand in a world that seems so foreign even though she's been living in it for years. Suddenly, things fail to make sense. What she thought she knew turns out to be different from the underlying reality. The Lore Keeper, her mentor, is the one to help her through it. For his own reasons, but who doesn't have an ulterior motive or two? His is simply ensuring that the future Keeper is an upstanding one. As you can see, he doesn't have a name yet. But that's both intentional and my own laziness lol. So yeah, choosing names is always the last step for me. Developing their personalities is what I tend to focus on the most when creating an OC. The name always comes last to me.

2. What’s your favorite eye color?

I love blue eyes! They're so pretty. Especially light blue.

3. How would you name your kids? Or, if you don’t want kids, what are your favorite names?

Fun fact: I was actually terrified of having children for a long time. I met someone who changed that for me, but eh. I have not given it much thought. I think naming children should be the act of both parents, something I'd want to talk over with my partner, but as for some of my favorite names ... I like short and sweet, so: Iris and Jay.

4. What’s your favorite quote?

I tend to go with Dr. Seuss a lot, heh, so I'll go with Roald Dahl this time: "A little nonsense now and then, is cherished by the wisest of men."

5. What’s the last anime you watched?

... it's been a while, uhhh. Dragon Maid probably. :3

6. Do you like cosplays?

I never personally wore any, but I deeply admire those who do. They put a lot of work into every costume and that takes skill, dedication, and sacrificing their own personal time to make it. They have my respect.

7. Do you have a crush on someone? (A real person or a fictional character, it doesn’t matter~)

Well then, just delve right into my deep, dark secrets why don't you? Hmmm, I guess if I'm being honest: I do. It was sort of an "oh shit" moment for me, but identifying the problem is the first step to finding a solution. In this case, getting my heart to agree with my mind that this is Not Allowed.

Fictional-wise ... idk, man. It's hard enough on me having real life crushes. I suppose Lily and Natori would be my type, though.

8. How many siblings do you have?

I have - had - two older half-brothers. It's complicated, too, so nope. I will not be explaining.

9. What would your ideal date be like?

Probably either a candlelit dinner and snuggling on the couch or doing something we both loved together. With my ex, that used to be hiking at the Cliffs, putting our feet in the water and play fighting with said water, and then collapsing together in the sand. It was sweet while it lasted.

10. Do you like your handwriting? Why?

I do, because why not? It's not perfect, but I've been learning that striving for perfection is a fruitless endeavor. It's also the coward's way out.

11. Now, say something positive about yourself!~  c:

Hmmm. Something positive ... my mind always goes blank when asked this sort of question. I guess, it's my persistence? Even when I play the role my own worst critic, I still keep going because sitting idle has never suited me. I have to constantly be doing something. Whether it's writing, reading, etc. If my mind is happy, so am I.

Avi’s Questions

1: What is you’re favorite series and why? (Could be anything from TV shows, books, anime, ect..)

For books, probably ... the Artemis Fowl series? That writing style is one of my favs :'D

For manga, definitely Natsume's Book of Friends. Gorgeous short stories on their own and a sprinkling of plot that's not too much, so it doesn’t take away from each story and they can all stand on their own. I admire that, since I'm primarily a short story writer more often than not.

2: What is your favorite weather and time of day?

My favorite type of weather is rain, no doubt about it. And for time of day ... night. Definitely night. I am a night owl, ha.

3: Favorite Fictional character? Why?

Why must you do this to me?! At the moment, it's Mikuni. Save me.

4: Favorite video game? Why?

The World Ends With You. Lots of reasons, and since they are personal ... I will instead just gush about how much I loved the storyline and the characters, and how I can proudly proclaim that this is one of the few games I have ever completed 100%.

5: What are your hobbies?

Writing, reading, watching anime, video games, fishing, hiking, cooking/baking, and learning new things.

6: If you could pick one fictional world to live in, what world would you pick and why?

Oh gosh, I think the Hunter x Hunter world would be cool, too, but I'd die so quickly ... I'm going to go the safer route and say Tales of the Abyss. Make me one of those NPCs chilling in the background. Just, you know, not in the town that gets completely destroyed (gdi Luke).

7: Favorite animal?

CATS. I have always been a cat person and I will definitely continue to be one looooong into the future.

8: Do you have any pets? If so, what are their names and what are they?

Snow White, my eskimo doggie. And Goldie, my orange and white tabby cat.

9: Do you have any original stories? Tell me something about them!

Since I already talked about my current story alongside the OC question, I'll instead gush about a collab story with a good friend of mine. We've been working on this story for close to ... god, eight years now? It's one of those self indulgent things. It's fun to come home to and work on. It has a super hero setting, wherein she writes the heroes and I write the villains. My alliance is called, wait for it - SASSI. Super Assholes Seeking Suitable Income. They're real particular about the destruction they cause, let me tell ya. It's sort of a goofy series that we put together to hash out why people do the things they do and put a satire spin on it. (The villains are not the only ones we poke fun at, just saying.)

10: If you have any ocs, who was your first? If you don’t have any, who was your first favorite character and why?

Oh wow, that's so long ago. My first OC was a nameless young lady from a story about black cats bringing good omens. I wrote it for English class, because I was interested in myths and old legends in regards to cats. It was around the time I discovered what a Cat Sith is.

11: You have three wishes, what would you wish for?

Is this like one of those genies that twists what we want and we have to be reaaaally careful? You know, Monkey Paw style? If so, then I would hand off the wishes to someone else. They can have them; I'mma strive for what I want with my own dedication and patience. If this is a no strings attached sort of deal, then: 1. for good things to happen to my friends and family, 2. to live by the ocean, and 3. to be able to speak more than one language. As I said, all things I can work towards on my own.

Mikoe's Questions

1. Do you draw? If yes, how many years has it been since you’ve started?

Oh gods, no. I used to be big into drawing animals, but I can't draw people and shit for the life of me. I have a few wolf pictures, still, I think. My spirit animal <3

2. Do you write? If yes, could you copy paste a line from your latest work?

Since I was 11~ And sure, I'll use fanfic: "Do I have to go?" The cat's sleepy yawn gave away its apathy to the whole thing. "Can't I just stay here and nap? You'll be fine on your own."

"Well, they did send us two tickets. It'd be rude if you didn't use it, Kuro. Not to mention," and here Mahiru flicked the cat on the forehead, "I'd kind of die if you didn't come along, you lazy cat. Or did you forget we have a contract?"

3. What is/are your nickname(s)? If you don’t have any, can I give you one?

I joke about having nicknames, because kids call me Apple (or god help me, Cabbage, from A FRIEND UGH), but nah. Not really. You can't really make a nickname out of April, lol. As for receiving a nickname, go for it. Good luck, pffft.

4. When is your birthday? If you’re not comfortable with it, then what is your favorite day of the whole year and why?

August 27th

5. What are the 5 things that never fail to brighten up your day or put a smile on your face?

My pets!!! My friends and family. Really cute pics of animal in general. Reading something sweet. Being out in the fresh air.

6. Why did you join Tumblr?

To reconnect with old friends, mainly. Then I fell into the Servamp fandom, enough said.

7. IOS or Android?

Android.

8. In the scale of 1 to 10, how much do you love yourself?

5, it's half and half.

9. Are you the type who pours the cereal before the milk or the milk before the cereal?

Cereal before the milk xD I don't want to get splashed.

10. How is 2017 treating you so far?

Hmm, to sum up: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

My internal thoughts are just incoherent screaming atm.

11. Do you like pigeons? XD

Depends. I like the pretty ones that are small and colorful and land on your fingertips.

My Questions~

1. Where do you see yourself in five years?

2. If you draw and/or write, what programs are your favorite to use?

3. Do you have any phobias?

4. Have you ever traveled? If so, where?

5. Do you have someone you admire or strive to be like?

6. What is your ideal vacation?

7. Do you have a favorite candle scent?

8. What genre is your favorite? (For movies, books, anime/manga, games, etc.)

9. Do you have something you use as a crutch/safety net? Something you couldn't live without?

10. What is a series you used to enjoy as a child? Do you still enjoy it?

11. List five things you want to improve in and make a little time for those things every day.

I tag: @crazyanime3, @stirlingphoenix, @choc0bunnyqueen, @pleasantdreamsart, @saltykarkat, @mikunialicein .... man, it’s hard to pick 11. Anyone else who wishes to do so! And of course, if you’re tagged and do not want to do it, that’s cool too.

[brainworms-all-night-long]

So you know how foxes living in rural areas evolved to be nocturnal so they can scurry around looking for food when there's less ppl around and the shade of night gives the them more cover?

Tails was mostly like that since he rembered up until he met Sonic. Than he had to switch back onto a daytime schedule because even if hedgehogs are naturally nocturnal animals he prefers to run around during the day when the world is a visibly more alive and also the most optimal time to beat ol' 'buttnik's ass.

Tails' sleep schedule was in shambles ever since