#it might not be a laugher moth

[snickeringdragon]

check out this fucking THING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[maternity-morningstar]

Struggle Bug 🕷️🕸️

By @bunny-is-cute

CW: egg laying, eating dirt

When Angel was told that he may lay an egg instead of giving birth to a live baby, he tried to laugh it off. After all he hated to admit it but he was a nervous laugher. He often tried to bite his lip just to suppress a smile, but it always manages to creep out in the worst of times.

Like now, when he’s being told that he needs to be prepared to weigh an egg.

“Oh pfft! No way! I’m only 18 weeks pregnant! I shouldn’t have the baby for 22 more weeks right? If my math is right?”

Belphegor, the Sin of Sloth and his new doctor, gave him an incredulous expression. “Mr. Dust you are a spider type demon. Sinner or not, that has a huge impact on your pregnancy. Even the father has an impact on your pregnancy. You said he was a moth-sinner right?”

Angel’s nervous smile wavered into a weak frown, “Yeah. I believe he’s the father. He’s the one who gave me that drug in the first place.”

Bel looked at with a serious expression, “well moths also lay eggs. Spiders lay eggs. You are going to lay an egg.” Bel said and wiped out the freshly printed ultrasound. “See? The baby is in his embryo state but this,” she circles the layers surrounding the embryo, “that is the layers of egg forming around it.”

Angel's hands trembled as he stared at the ultrasound, his eyes fixated on the image Belphegor had circled. The tiny shape within the layers felt so surreal, like a distant nightmare coming to life.

"Laying an egg," Angel repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loud might make it real. His usual bravado crumbled in the face of this terrifying reality. He'd been through hell—literally—but this was different. This was his body doing something that felt alien, something he had no control over.

Belphegor watched him with a calm, patient demeanor. "It’s natural, Angel. You have insect traits, and that’s going to affect your pregnancy. The egg will continue to form, and you’ll need to lay it when the time comes. It’s part of the process."

"But—" Angel cut himself off, struggling to find the right words. His nervous laughter bubbled up again, but this time it was more strained, on the verge of hysteria. "But what if I can't do it? What if something goes wrong?"

Bel's expression softened slightly, a rare show of empathy from the usually aloof Sin. "It’s okay to be scared but your body knows what it’s doing, even if your mind isn’t quite ready for it."

Angel swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. He couldn’t shake the image of himself laying an egg, like some monstrous parody of birth. He felt like a freak, more than he ever had before. The shame, the fear—it was all overwhelming.

He took a deep breath and told himself that he wasn’t going to lay an egg. No he was going to have a normal pregnancy and just deal with whatever happens.

But he was determined to keep this egg sealed inside of him.

——————

As the days passed, Angel couldn’t shake the weight of the news. Every time he glanced at his growing belly, the anxiety crept up on him, whispering that there was something unnatural inside of him. He started avoiding mirrors, unable to face the reflection that felt more foreign with each passing day.

Despite his determination to hold onto some semblance of normalcy, his instincts were relentless. He'd catch himself instinctively curling up, wrapping his arms protectively around his stomach, as if trying to shield the egg from the outside world—or maybe trying to shield himself from it. The more he tried to deny what was happening, the more his body seemed to rebel against him.

His appetite changed, cravings shifting from the greasy junk food he usually loved to things he never thought he’d stomach—raw meat, insects, even dirt. DIRT!!! He didn’t even know what spurred on this craving but he just found himself staring at a potted plant one day when he was walking through the halls and after making sure no one was watching him, he just scooped some dirt into his mouth and the rest was history.

The cravings disgusted him, but the hunger gnawed at him until he couldn’t resist anymore. Every bite felt like a betrayal of normalcy he was clinging onto.

One night, as he lay in bed tossing and turning, he felt a strange pressure deep within his abdomen. Panic seized him as he realized what it was. The egg was growing, solidifying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His breath came in short gasps as he pressed his hands against his stomach, as if he could somehow force his body to reverse the process.

Angel gritted his teeth, trying to focus on anything but the pressure building inside him. But it was impossible to ignore. His instincts were taking over, pushing him toward something primal, something that terrified him. He could feel the egg shifting, demanding to be laid, and with every passing day, the urge became harder to resist.

The thought of building a nest had seemed ridiculous at first, but now it haunted him. Every time he passed through the hallways of the Hotel, he found himself eyeing dark corners and secluded spaces, his mind unconsciously evaluating them for safety and comfort. He would snap out of it, cursing himself for even considering it, but the thoughts kept creeping back, more insistent each time.

Angel couldn't take it anymore! The need to build a nest had become unbearable. He had to do something, anything, to ease the overwhelming instinctual drive. Without thinking, he grabbed some blankets and pillows from his bed, piling them into a corner of his room. He worked quickly, almost frantically, arranging them into a crude nest-like shape. His heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back to look at what he'd done, shame washing over him.

"This is insane," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not some...bug." But the moment he said it, a wave of nausea hit him, and the pressure in his abdomen intensified. He clutched his stomach, the realization sinking in that this was happening whether he wanted it to or not.

Angel hesitated, staring at the makeshift nest, feeling a pull toward it that he couldn’t explain. His mind was at war with his body, the rational part of him screaming to stop, to fight it, while his instincts urged him to give in, to make himself comfortable, to prepare.

Finally, exhausted and overwhelmed, he gave in. He curled up in the nest, his body relaxing for the first time in days. It was as if a switch had been flipped; the anxiety lessened, and a strange calm settled over him. The nest, ridiculous as it seemed, offered a small measure of comfort.

But the peace didn’t last long. The pressure inside him was reaching its peak, and he knew what was coming. His breath hitched as he felt his body begin to tense involuntarily, his instincts guiding him in a way he had no control over.

Angel squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the blankets beneath him. "Okay...okay...just breathe..." he whispered to himself, trying to calm the panic that was rising again. He had no idea what to expect, only that he couldn’t fight it any longer. His muscles tightened, and he gasped as a wave of pain shot through him. He could feel the egg moving down, his body doing exactly what it was supposed to do, but it still felt wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He wasn’t supposed to lay an egg.

But as the minutes ticked by, his instincts took over completely. His breaths became ragged, his body shuddering with the effort. The pressure built until it was almost unbearable, and then, with a final push, he felt the egg slip free.

Angel collapsed back into the nest, trembling, as he stared at the egg in front of him. It was smooth and round, a soft pearlescent white with a faint sheen. He was too exhausted to process what had just happened fully. All he could do was lie there, panting, his mind numb with shock.

This was real. It was happening. The egg was there, a physical manifestation of everything he’d been trying to deny.

Angel stared at the egg in his palm, marveling at how delicate and beautiful it was. The pearlescent sheen caught the dim light of his room, making it look almost like a precious gem. Despite the whirlwind of emotions—fear, confusion, disbelief—he couldn’t help but feel a deep, instinctual connection to it. This was his baby, and now that it was here, a new instinct kicked in: the need to protect it.

Without thinking, he reached up to his mouth and began producing a thin, silky web from his spinnerets, a part of his spider-like anatomy that he rarely used. He had always been somewhat embarrassed by his ability to spin webs, seeing it as another reminder of how different he was from everyone else. But now, as he carefully wove the silk around the egg, it felt natural, even comforting.

The webbing wrapped snugly around the egg, forming a protective cocoon. He worked meticulously, ensuring that every part of the egg was covered, the layers thick enough to shield it from harm but breathable enough to allow it to grow. The process was oddly soothing, the rhythm of spinning and weaving calming his racing thoughts.

When he was done, he held the egg up to the light, admiring his work. The webbing glistened, shimmering with a faint silvery hue. It was as if the egg was now encased in a delicate, yet sturdy armor, a barrier between it and the harsh world outside.

Angel knew he couldn’t just leave the egg out in the open. His protective instincts were screaming at him to hide it, to keep it safe from prying eyes. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out about this, to see him as even more of a freak than he already felt.

His gaze darted around the room, searching for a hiding spot. Finally, his eyes landed on the closet. He stood up, clutching the egg carefully, and made his way over. Inside, his boots were neatly lined up on the floor. He grabbed an old boot box from the back, dusted it off, and opened it. It was empty—perfect.

Gently, he placed the egg inside the box, making sure it was nestled securely. He then closed the lid and placed the box in the back corner of the closet, tucking it behind a stack of old clothes. It was hidden away, out of sight, just as he wanted.

Angel stood there for a moment, staring at the box. His heart was still pounding, but the anxiety that had been gnawing at him seemed to have dulled slightly. The egg was safe, for now. He had done what he could.

But as he shut the closet door, sealing the secret away, a new worry began to creep in. How long could he keep this hidden? And what would happen when the egg eventually hatched? The uncertainty loomed over him, but for now, all he could do was wait.

And so, with one last glance at the closed closet door, Angel turned away and curled back up in his makeshift nest, trying to find some rest, even as his mind raced with thoughts of what was to come.

[undertheknightwing]

If I don't get an emotional scene between Dick and Gar when Dick leaves the tower what even is the point anymore

seeing Dick leave the tower again isn't going to make Gar feel too good, mainly because of what happened the last time Dick left. He just got his dad back and now he's leaving again, to the most dangerous city in the world. Give me Dick saying goodbye to the Titans, hugging them all and when he gets to Gar, Gar doesn't let go when Dick tries to break free from the hug. Which might lead to something like:

Attempting to pull away from the shapeshifters embrace, the adult finds it harder than expected as the young teen kept his arms locked tightly around the man, refusing to let Dick go.

“Gar, are you okay?” Dick asks, frowning.

The green haired boy inhales a sharp breath as an effort to keep his composure, pressing his face into his father’s shoulder, “You’re gonna come back, right? No surprise vacation to Arkham Asylum?”

Through Gar’s forced laugher, his voice began to break and so did Dick’s heart, guilt impaling it like a blade.

“I’m not staying in Gotham,” The man assures softly, rubbing the teen’s shoulder blade, “I’m coming back, I promise. I’m not leaving you, Gar. Never again.”

"Can't I come with you?"

There's hope in the teen's voice as he speaks and suddenly the adult felt worse, like someone punched him in the stomach with a balled fist of emotions.

Dick swallows, "No, I'm sorry. It's too dangerous."

"Gar," It's Kory who speaks next, quiet and sympathetic, "Dick needs to go."

The teen's embrace loosens and Gar steps back, arms tightly folded over his chest and head tilted down, no doubt hiding his tear stained cheeks from his father.

"Hey," Dick places a gentle hand on the shapeshifter's cheek, prompting Gar to lift his head and gaze at Dick with those soft brown eyes. Eyes that seemed to smile when he did and show a more haunted look during moments like this, "You're my right hand man, I need someone to look after the tower and the Titans while I'm gone, there's no one else I trust more than you, bud. Right, Kory?"

The princess nodded, appearing at the teen's side; setting a comforting hand on his shoulder, "Right. Both Graysons can't leave, we gotta keep at least one." Kory turns her sights on Dick, lips pulled into a smirk, "And I'd rather have the funny one."

Gar laughs at the jab and Dick breathes a quiet sigh of relief. Hearing his son's laugher could easily turn anyone's mood around. Even after what happened to him, it was still full of joy and warmth, like if sunshine had a noise.

Dick looks in-between Kory and his son, "I'll call later, report what's happening in Gotham and check up on everything here."

Kory's emerald eyes meet his, there's worry colored in there with the burning fire Dick's found himself attracted to like a moth to a flame, "Be safe, Grayson."

"I will."

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 7

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

----------

At least their purchases were found undamaged. That was a little upside to the disaster of the supervillain attack. Marinette suspected Tikki might’ve had something to do with this, but didn’t comment. Police kept the rope dart as evidence, but they promised to return it as soon as it was possible. Marinette gave Gordon her number (after the commissioner was vouched for by Damian) and number to her mother. It was a possibility that she would’ve been called to court to testify. She was a prime witness and while her involvement declared only self-defense, Gordon told her in all honesty that the lawyer might try to put some blame on her. It was a sad reality, but Damian reassured both his beloved and the commissioner that they would be prepared. Waynes kept a contingent of lawyers not without reason. 

The teens were picked up by Alfred before the press figured out who the mysterious hero of the day was. Marinette really didn’t need more lights on her. It was enough that she agreed to make her relationship with Damian Wayne public at the gala. Objectively, she knew it was a better option than for the press to learn from students of Gotham Academy. Inside, she was dreading the event anyway. 

When they arrived at the manor, Sabine, Tom, and Bruce were waiting for them. The girls launched themselves at the woman and she pulled them into a hug. Damian followed slowly, not revealing any emotions. 

“I received a call from Jim,” Bruce began once they were behind the closed doors, “something about Firefly and brave teens stopping the attack.” He looked at all three of them with a judging glare. It wasn’t that he was disappointed, but it made the teens feel under deep scrutiny.

“It was all me!” Marinette confessed immediately. “He stopped us from escaping and we were with a bunch of kids. I just acted and I might have kinda accidentally… defeated him.” She spoke very fast. 

“Don’t worry, Sweetie. We’re not angry or anything.” Sabine quickly reassured her while sending a glare at Bruce.

“Well… Yes.” The billionaire nodded slowly. “But you could’ve been more careful.”

“Ridiculous!” Chloé stared at the Wayne patriarch. “Utterly ridiculous! Of course, Dupain-Cheng could’ve just run away and left those poor lost kids to die, but she stayed.”

“I didn’t mean…” The man tried to speak, but the blonde ignored him. 

“But no! Mr. Batman thinks that suddenly protecting others without the suit is somehow wrong. I didn’t see you on the scene at all. There was Red Hood, but he arrived there only after Mari already took out that flying pyromaniac.”

“I just…”

“So don’t go off on us preaching safety when you have your kids running on the rooftops every night.” 

“But…” Bruce had no idea what just happened. He only wanted to congratulate them…

“I did get all the fabrics I will need, but we didn’t get to eat.” Mari decided to change the subject and spare her father-in-law further humiliation at Chloé’s hands.

“The lunch will be ready in five minutes. You can take it in the dining room.” Alfred spoke from behind Bruce, startling the poor billionaire. It was apparently not his day. 

When the group moved there and took their seats, joined by Cass, who was the only other permanent resident of the Manor, Marinette decided on the next subject. 

“And how did the Class trip go?” She asked her mother with a bright smile. The woman sent her a tired look in response. 

“They are monsters. I sympathize with their parents if that’s how they act every day…” 

“They can’t be that bad, love.” Tom tried to defend the kids, but several stares from around the room would kill him if it was possible. “I meant can. My English is bad. I meant can.” He raised his hands in surrender.

“That Lila girl is indeed a talented manipulator when she is not going overboard. If I didn’t know her, I might’ve actually fallen for her lies. And she even doesn’t resort to lies anymore.” 

“What?!” Marinette was glad that she only got the lunch served and didn’t yet eat anything. “No way!” 

“Yes. It looks like she established herself as an internet star to the point where she is somewhat famous.” 

“Tt. She is still a harlot.” Damian muttered loud enough for everyone to hear. 

“The modeling for the Gabriel brand and Ladyblog. Outside of Paris, it would make her into a star of some internet super-hero show in addition to a front-page model!” Marinette was suddenly enlightened. “I can’t believe her lies actually worked!” She collapsed in her chair, resigned. “Guess lying did work for her in the end…” Her face took a look of a beaten puppy.

“Say a word, Angel, and we can make you into three times the star she might be,” Damian spoke and Chloé nodded in agreement. 

“It’s not that!” The bluenette tried to protest. “I just… Her lies hurt people. I told her that it wouldn’t work in the long run, and she proved me wrong ten times over…” 

“Lila… bad.” Cass frowned. “Hurt Nettie.”

“Cass…” The girl tried to say something, but her cousin continued.

“I will… hurt Lila.” She stated confidently. 

“No!” Marinette protested. “I’ve got enough trouble stopping Damian and my mom!” 

“She is bad,” Cass stated confidently. 

“Cassandra.” Bruce glared at his daughter, but before he could explain things to her, Sabine intervened. 

“Sweetie, I appreciate you wanting to help Mari, but we must also respect her wishes. Even if I already have a place chosen… Never mind.” She smiled brightly before anyone questioned her. 

The whole table exploded into laugher while Damian and Cass smiled wider than usual. It was just such… a familial scene. Like they weren’t a bunch of superheroes, but a happy family. Even if the talk was about murder. 

----------

In a dark, damp room two people stood opposite one another. The male figure had a dark purple suit with the signature butterfly brooch pinned to the top of the shirt. His chest was protected by two black flaps that looked a bit like the moth wings. In his black gloves, he held a cane topped with a purple orb. The face was covered by a simple domino mask that did nothing to hide the mane of blonde hair on top of his head. 

On the opposite was a woman in a dark-blue dress that hugged her figure very tightly. The clothing ended barely above her bust, continuing with a sparkly net that was almost translucent. From under the cut starting just below the belt, her legs were also visible and covered in the same sparkly net. The blue/purple of her skin clashed slightly with the dress, but the sparkles of the fancy net managed to offset it to the point it was barely noticeable. Her deep-blue hair was pinned back into a rather messy bun with two long strands framing her face.

“Are you sure?” The young man asked. 

“Don’t worry,” she dismissed. “My grandma reassured me that this is perfectly safe. Besides, it’s too late to stop now.” She grinned and pointed her folded fan at the ground. When she unfolded it, several candles lit with pink flames, bathing the room in an eerie light. The light reached to three bodies laid in circles drawn with their blood. The two figures in the center were also in a runic circle. 

“The bond will not interfere with my Princess?”

“Whatever that vile American did to her must have hurt her badly. You do want to save her and lift the curse, right?” She grinned when there was a new fire in his eyes. “And I told you about my demands.”

“I’m still not convinced.” He glared at her. “And I told your grandfather that his demands are ridiculous.” 

“They are my demands.” She corrected him in an amused voice. “If you don’t want my help…” 

“Fine. I will do it.” He suddenly closed the distance between them until they were face to face. “But don’t even try to trick me. I’ll know and I will end you. Nothing will stop me from getting what I want.” 

In response, she gave him a quick peck on the lips. Immediately, the boy recoiled. She just licked her lips. “Whatever you want, beloved.”

“Ugh. Let’s just get done with this.” 

The candles went out one by one when the female chanted in Latin. When the twelfth and last one died out, the room was once more dark. Then, the runes lit and red light enveloped both of them. She reached to the center and grabbed a small goblet. After taking a sip, she handed it to the boy. 

He hesitated for a moment, but then also took a sip. They were both enveloped in deep scarlet light until it died out and both of them fell unconscious on the ground.

----------

Marinette and Chloé had to go with the class for the next trip, which was to the Botanic Garden. Damian and surprisingly Cass also joined them. And this was how the class almost signed their death warrant and handed it to Sabine. 

As soon as the guide started speaking about various plants they had there, Alya and Lila started gossiping in the back. 

“...told you she was a…”

“...I can’t believe he would…”

“...and that black-haired…”

“If it was up to…”

“I bet she just…”

“Maybe it’s a thing here?” 

Finally, Sabine had enough. She asked the guide for a five minutes break to rein in the misbehaving group. Caline tried to protest, but she was silenced when the older woman looked her in the eyes with fires of fury. 

“Listen up, because I’m not going to be repeating myself.” She started. “Cassandra is my niece, who lives in Gotham. By a lucky turn of events, she turned out to know Damian and agreed to accompany me and Marinette today.” She glared at every student in the group. Sabine noted that Alix stood alone in the back, separate from Max and Kim. “She is a precious little bean and if any of you dare to say anything bad about her again without even trying to talk to her first, I will personally see to it that your trip will be very-” She made sure to put emphasis on the word “-unpleasant. And if you even think about hounding her, I will see you suspended.”

“Now… Sabine, I think you’re…” Madame Bustier tried to defuse the situation.

“Caline. It is, and always will be for you, Madame Cheng. I’m on this trip to make sure they behave. If you’re not going to help me, try not to make my job harder than it already is.” She huffed and looked back at the class. “Am I understood?”

Several barely audible “Yes” could’ve been heard if someone tried hard enough. 

“Good for now.” Sabine looked at their guide. “I’m sorry I had to interrupt.” 

“No worries Mrs. Cheng.” The woman chuckled. “Anyone who tries to badmouth Cassandra or anyone from her family deserves your wrath.” 

“Good. We can continue.” And so the group moved on. 

Lila decided to change the subject of her lies and now kept talking about how good friends she was with Damian Wayne, or rather her Damiboo. It was clear that their guide wanted to add something, but Marinette’s boyfriend made a gesture to stop him. The grin on his face made it clear he had different plans.

After they finished the trip, the class was placed in the bus with Sabine while Damian and the girls were left free to wander around. Some tried to protest, but one murderous glare from Madame Cheng shut them up hard. 

“Why Marinette and Chloé are allowed to wander around with some boy, while we are confined to the Hotel!?” Kim protested. 

“Yeah! Lila can’t even meet her boyfriend!”

“It’s simple.” Sabine cut them off. “Marinette and Chloé are staying with Damian’s family, which is their host family for this trip. You will be meeting your host families after the new year.” She couldn’t stop herself from rubbing some more salt into Lila’s wound. She might be an adult, but it doesn’t stop her from being petty sometimes. Especially when someone decides to speak badly about her favorite (and hopefully only) niece. “If your… Damiboo was missing you so much, you could’ve asked him to invite you. Cassandra said he is attending Gotham Academy. I’m sure he would love to have you stay with him at Wayne Penthouse.” 

“Oh! He did want me so badly with them, but we agreed that it would be better for me to get to know some of his friends.” Lila answered quickly and Damian had to stiffen a groan. How could someone be so dense? 

“Suuure.” Sabine grinned. “Then please don’t complain about the situation of your own making.” It was clear that the discussion was over. Damian, Marinette, Chloé, and Cass were left to their own device. 

“Chlo, I love you like the best friend you are,” Mari started when they were alone, “but Damian’s got a date planned. So bye!” She said before running off with her husband, leaving the flabbergasted blonde and the noirette alone.

“Ice cream?” Cass pleaded.

“Fine. I guess I can hang out with you then.” 

“Ice Cream!” The other girl almost jumped in the air. 

----------

The couple walked through the gardens in silence, holding hands and enjoying the cool air around them. The temperature was warmer than outside, but still rather frosty. Marinette, feeling bolder, dragged Damian’s hand down slightly and pulled him closer to her. She cuddled into his shoulder and smiled. After dealing with the class, it was nice to have some peace, only the two of them. 

“So…” She started with a grin. “Wayne penthouse?”

“Tt. For your information, it’s where Drake and Brown live.”

“But Damiboo! You wound me! And I thought we could stay there together.” Marinette did her best Lila impression. 

He tried to scowl, but the end result was an unholy mix between scowling and grinning. 

They wandered around, laughing at occasional jokes and generally enjoying the time. At some point, Marinette dragged him to a hot-dog cart to enjoy what she called a ‘taste of America’. He couldn’t help but smile at some of her antics. They stopped for some coffee to rest their legs. He allowed her to talk most of the time, listening to all the details of her new outfit for Jagged Stone. 

“...so I decided to replace half of the usual silver studs with golden ones. Or rather gold-colored. He doesn’t actually like the wealth display that much and is all for replacing it with cheaper ones. When his producer one time tried to force me to make him everything with the actual gold, Jagged signed it and immediately donated it to The Gotham Orphanage.”

“I remember.” Damian’s memory flashed him an article about it. “And don’t be modest. It held your signature too.” 

“Well… He wanted to throw it to Fang first. It was so much not his style.” She smiled. “Bob almost had a stroke when he learned that he still had to pay for it full price. I think it was actually the first commission I accepted that was not priced like clothes for friends. I did deduce the cost of materials that he provided though.” 

“Habibti. You’re amazing.” 

She blushed at the compliment. “I’m not! I’m just a normal girl.” 

“An amazing normal girl.” 

“How can you be so smooth and so socially awkward at the same time?!” She squeaked.

“Because people are fools. You are perfection incarnated.”

“Stop it!” She giggled. “I’m not! I’m clumsy and awkward.”

“It doesn’t stop you from being perfect.” He countered. Before she could protest, he lifted a cookie and put it in her mouth. She bit it and munched it in silence. When she swallowed, he continued feeding her. In retaliation, she picked some whipped cream and gave it to him. They ended up feeding one another and laughing.

It was slowly getting dark, so they started walking toward where Alfred would pick them up. They still had some time, so Mari dragged Damian into the music store. There was a whole stand for Jagged Stone discs. 

Marinette, feeling devious, pulled out a marker and signed two before handing it to Damian. He thought for a short moment before making a small heart next to her name and putting down his autograph too. They hid the discs behind others and moved on. In the end, Marinette bought some ballet music for Cass that Damian told her she didn’t have yet. The bluenette liked her cousin and wanted to get her something for ditching her with Chloé

When they exited the store, Alfred was waiting there, ready to take them to the Manor. The two sat in the back of the limousine in silence, cuddled together. By the time they arrived at their destination, Marinette had dozed off. Not having the heart to wake her, Damian did his best to gently lift her and carry her to her room. Somewhere along the way, she clutched to him tightly and didn’t let go even when he placed her on the four-poster bed. He sighed. He didn’t know if he would survive the teasing he would receive after someone finds them. Scratch that. Sabine would kill him before that. 

Still, he would have to wake her up. With one more look to make sure the doors were closed, he lied next to her and stared up. He could at least stay awake, right?

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

Masterlist // Next

[stories-by-rie]

64 Roses

It was as if the bushes around Amaya were mocking her. Their rustling sounded like evil whispers. Yet, over her racing heart and sharp breath, she could barely hear it. In this total darkness where even the stars and the moon had abandoned her, all she could see was the face of her best friend who had to be in the centre of this maze.

  “You do know that the clock is ticking, girl”, the raven croaked and Amaya jumped in shock.

  “There’s no reason to remind me!” Her voice jumped an octave higher. “I just can’t see anything in this darkness. I am so lost”, she whined and gave in to the tears. But she wouldn’t break down. She might give in to tears but never to the evil soul that trapped her and her friend in there.

Amaya went on, ignoring the raven’s hoarse laughter.

It was impossible to walk through the bushes, so tightly they had grown. It was impossible to climb over the walls that resembled old ruins, since they were covered with roses. And it was impossible for her to see any kind of regularity in the turns that laid before her.

Hastily she turned left as she way split into three, walking through a curtain of vines. Behind, there was light. A single lantern was standing on a table that was in the middle of that little room surrounded by walls.

Like a moth she was drawn to the single light source and even as she picked the lantern up, nothing happened.

  “I can do this”, she whispered to herself. She picked the way right in front of her as she walked back, the yellow light of the lantern illuminating the darkness.

At some point she started to run. Every corner looked the same to her, and she could’ve sworn that she crossed the same red rose multiple times.

Thunder rumbled high above her and only a few minutes later rain poured down on her.

  “There are two hours, thirty four minutes and exactly seven seconds left. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Two hours, thirty three minutes”, the raven mocked her and panic rose inside of Amaya.

  “Leave me be!”, she yelled and tried to hit the raven but it just flew away, as always.

Left, right, left, middle, left, left, middle, right, right. There was no thought behind her decisions, but since there were no clues either, she had to trust her intuition either way.

  “Simone! Simone”, she called her friend. It was ridiculous to expect an answer and she didn’t have to hear the raven laugh to know it. But she was so helpless. The labyrinth just swallowed her, ate her whole, piece by piece – and it had started with her heart.

The roses’ thorns ripped at her clothes and skin and the wind blew the twigs of bushes in her face. It wouldn’t stop her. She had to find the centre. She had to find Simone.

  “I’m so lost. I am so lost”,  she cried, gasping for air, shaking from the cold rain.

  “Well, now that’s really unfortunate. Honestly, I didn’t have high hopes to begin with. But now I am certain that you won’t make it”, the raven said, his voice sounding a little more human now.

  “Just tell me where she is, please”, Amaya begged but he only croaked. “At least tell me which direction!”

  “Well, since you won’t make it in time either way...” He flew away and Amaya had never run so fast in her life. She soon lost him in the darkness of the night but more determined than ever she followed the direction he had flown to.

It wasn’t even a close call. The sun was rising, the thunder storm was long over and in front of her, the bushes parted and opened up on a clearing where a giant mansion throned, covered in vines and roses like the rest of the labyrinth.

Amaya pulled up her dress’ skirt as she walked up the stairs, no strength left in her body, only moving out of spite.

In front of the old wooden doors stood a man, raven black hair, blue piercing eyes and an equally black long coat.

  “Welcome, Amaya. You finally found the centre of my stunning labyrinth”, he greeted her. It was the same voice that had mocked her all the way here. A flame of anger rose up inside of her.

  “I want to see Simone.”

  “Well, there’s no need to hurry now”, he replied, eyes rolling but making way inside the house. Before she entered, he cleared his throat, stopping her in her movement.

  “Just, one little notice. Once you walk in there, you will not be able to leave again. There is no reason to go inside any more, since your friend is dead. However, you may still feel doubts since you loved her so much. Hence, the warning.”

  “You’re a monster.” Amaya felt like choking on her tears.

  “Maybe. It’s your final choice. The last turn. Do you choose the way ahead or the one behind you?”

It was no choice. Amaya walked forward. As she stepped inside, close to a hundred girls like her greeted her, the same desperate look on their faces.

  “Simone?”, she asked, searching for her among their faces. She wasn’t there.

  “Oh, she isn’t here any more. But to be fair, I never said she was in the first place”, the raven laughed.

  “She must be among them!”

  “No, those are all the girls who chose to enter like you did.”

Amaya turned backwards. The doors were closed and so was her way out.

  “He turns them into roses”, one of the girls who stood close to her whispered.

  “I thought a nice deep red would suit Simone well!”, his voice echoed through the hall, accompanied by his laugher.

The realization came too late. She had found Simone. She just hadn’t recognized her.

~13.09.2019~

tagging @cawolters for flash fiction friday!

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 15

You can read it on AO3, or find the Tumblr Chapter index here. 

The branches of the trees make strange shifting shadows on the surface of the road in the moonlight: lines and shapes that twist and move only to realign into something new. Stiles thinks of runes, of the pattern on the piece of bone that the nurse had and that Deaton snapped. Are the shapes the shadows make magic too? Is Stiles being engulfed in a constantly moving tide of spells and incantations, natural and random like the waves of the ocean? He feels like maybe he is—half under a spell and half drowning.

He’s dizzy, so dizzy, and his limbs feel weird and heavy, and they don’t move in the right ways.

There are monsters in the woods, he remembers suddenly, and wants to cry.

He needs to find Derek, to…

So that Derek can help him find Dad and Stella.

He’s not even sure how his brain makes that connection, but it’s there, and it’s about the only thing that feels solid right now. He presses a hand to the pocket of his pants, and wonders why he can’t feel the piece of bone that Stella found in Peter’s hospital room, and then he remembers these aren’t his usual pants, and that Deaton snapped the bone anyway.

The lines on the road look like the runes on the bone.

“Derek?” he calls, stumbling forward. “Derek!”

He loses the name on a ragged sob.

And then there’s light, and Stiles is dozy as a fat bumbling moth caught in its beam. He turns, squinting, and puts his hand out to steady himself but finds nothing except air.

He stumbles again, and this time someone catches him.

“Stilinski?”

Stiles squints up into a stupidly handsome face he’s always wanted to punch.

What… what the fuck is Jackson doing here?

***

Stiles gets blood and dirt all over the back seat of Jackson’s fancy silver Porsche. Lydia is with him, dabbing his face worriedly with something gauzy and a little bit stiff. Like a scarf or something? But a pretty glittery scarf girls wear with formal dresses. There’s probably a special name for it, but Stiles can’t remember it now.

Lydia looks like a princess. He tries to tell her this, and the words come out wrong.

“You need to go to the hospital,” Lydia says.

“No.” Stiles bats her hand away. “Derek.”

“Stilinski,” Jackson says. “What the fuck happened to your dad’s car?” Like, Stiles is the one with the concussion, but even he knows that’s the wrong question to be asking. Jackson should be asking what happened to Stiles’s dad, shouldn’t he?

Lydia’s eyes are wide with worry.

She gets it.

She knows.

“I need Derek,” Stiles manages. “Derek will find my Dad and Stella.”

Lydia’s short, sharp intake of breath is the loudest sound in the world.

Jackson starts the Porsche, and they continue on into the woods.

***

The old Hale house is a ruin. A skeleton. The bones are there, but it’s a dead thing. The moonlight shines down on the charred walls. It looks like something out of a horror movie. And it is, Stiles thinks. It’s Derek’s horror movie. His burned down house with his sister’s grave out the back. All his ghosts and nightmares must come from here, made all the more monstrous because at one time this house must have been beautiful. And at one time it must have been filled with the laugher of the people that Derek loved.

There’s a black SUV parked out the front of the house. Why does everyone in this town drive black SUVs anyway? And there’s a man standing there, dressed in black, and he looks like he’s had the absolute shit kicked out of him. There’s blood on his face, and he’s gripping his side like he’s holding the pieces together.

Stiles knows how he feels.

It’s Chris Argent, Allison’s dad.

“What the fuck?” Jackson asks in a low voice. “Is he a werewolf too?”

Jesus. Jackson really hasn’t got any fucking idea, has he? He really shouldn’t have come out here tonight—Stiles told him not to—but at the same time it’s good that he ignored Stiles so that Stiles didn’t collapse in a heap on the road a half mile back.

Stiles stumbles out of the car, Lydia and Jackson following.  

“Where are they?” Stiles wavers, and puts a bloody hand on the hood of the Porsche to steady himself. “Where are they?”

He’s not even sure who he means. Derek and Peter, or Dad and Stella?

“Did you kill them?” he demands, staggering closer to Argent. “Where are they?”

Chris Argent catches his gaze and holds it. “Gone,” he says, his voice rasping like sandpaper, and there’s a good chance he’s as physically fucked up right now as Stiles. “They got away.”

Stiles hears a low whining noise. It takes a moment to realize it’s coming from him.

“Stiles,” Chris Argent says. “What happened to you?”

Stiles blinks slowly. “Mrs. Phillips did.”

Mrs. Phillips is six hundred years old and lives on Telegraph Road. This is all her fault, actually, because she always calls the police if she thinks kids are going down to the old Hale house at night to “make trouble”, by which she means smoke weed and have sex or anything else that Republican Jesus would disapprove of. Stiles is pretty sure that Mrs. Phillips is glued to her TV most of the time, but god help anyone who tries to drive into the private road leading to the old Hale house during a commercial.

A whole fucking vendetta of werewolves and hunters going on for years out of sight of the police, and some old woman running her own personal Neighborhood Watch in Jeopardy ad breaks accidentally blows the whole thing wide open.

Like, how is this even real life?

Everything comes down to chance though, doesn’t it? Chance and dumb luck. There aren’t any rules. The universe is nothing but chaos, a maelstrom, and anyone can get swept away at any second. Stiles knows that better than most.

He’s drowning right now, isn’t he?

“Stiles,” Chris Argent says again, and steps forward.

And that’s when Stiles hears the growl. It’s close. It’s loud.

He turns around, Lydia catching his elbow before he faceplants, and sees the animal stepping out of the trees into the moonlight.

It’s a wolf. It’s huge, and it’s coming right towards Stiles.

And then it’s shifting, changing, and it’s a man, and Stiles’s scant composure shatters when he sees the moonlight hit the angles and planes of that familiar face, and he stumbles forward, tears running down his face.

“Derek!”

It’s a cry of both relief and heartbreak.

Because Derek is here, and Derek and alive, but Dad and Stella are gone.  

“Derek!”

He staggers, stumbles again, and Derek catches him as he falls.

***

“Wake up, Stiles,” Derek tells him softly. “Open your eyes.”

Derek is framed in starlight.

Stiles blinks up at him. His head hurts a little less than it did before, and it feels a little clearer. Derek’s hand is cradling the back of Stiles’s neck, his fingers rubbing the soft bristles of his hair. It feels nice. Stiles feels fuzzy again, but not in a nauseous way.

Clearly some time has passed, because Derek is wearing pants now. Which is kind of a shame, and also kind of weird, because they’re BHHS lacrosse sweats, and they might have come out of the trunk of Jackson’s Porsche.

Lydia and Jackson are standing close by, and Chris Argent is kneeling beside Stiles and Derek, a first aid kit open.

Stiles flinches at the smell of an antiseptic wipe a fraction before it touches his face. It’s wet and clammy and it stinks.

Also, Derek is growling again, a low, rumbling sound as Chris Argent touches Stiles.

“Someone took Dad and Stella,” Stiles says. “They were leaving from here. They hit Dad’s cruiser.”

Derek’s gaze fixes on Chris Argent. He grinds out, “Kate.”

Chris Argent’s mouth presses into a thin line.

“What happened though?” Stiles asks. “Peter… he was coming to get you. We tracked Scott’s phone and it said you were here. How did she get away if Peter was coming to get you?”

The Alpha’s a fucking killing machine, with the body count to prove it.

“He got away,” Derek says, and another laden gaze passes between him and Chris Argent. “He was going to kill her, but Chris got in the way.”

They’re on first name terms? Weird.

“I saved your life, you mean,” Chris Argent snaps right back.

“You saved hers.”

“I told you. I don’t want any bloodshed.” Chris Argent shakes his head. “He’s feral.”

Derek’s eyes flash, but he doesn’t argue the point.

Also, fuck Chris Argent. Because if he doesn’t want any bloodshed, he’s about six years too late to the party, isn’t he?

“He needs putting down,” Chris Argent says. “He killed your sister, didn’t he?”

Derek’s fingers twitch against the back of Stiles’s neck but he doesn’t flinch. “That’s pack business, not yours.”

“Killed your sister,” Stiles echoes faintly, squinting at the shifting branches in the trees, lit from behind by moonlight.

Shapes, lines, runes.

And then the entire Preserve seems to hold its breath, as a man steps through the trees at the edge of the clearing. Even in silhouette, there’s no mistaking his swagger. No mistaking the way a predator moves.

Lydia gasps, gripping Jackson’s hand tightly.

Chris Argent drops the antiseptic wipe and reaches for the firearm in his thigh holster.

Derek growls lowly and leans over Stiles, shielding him, his claws out.

And Peter Hale moves closer.

Stiles blinks, and sees the runes again.

Hears the snap of Deaton breaking the thin piece of bone.

Remembers Laura Hale’s body, buried here, or at least the clean-cut torso, her gravesite circled in wolfsbane.

And just like that the pattern makes sense. Laura never fit because Laura didn’t belong.

“Peter didn’t kill Laura,” he says. “The nurse did. If Peter had killed her, she would have had been torn apart, not cut. If Peter had killed her, the nurse wouldn’t have needed that magic token to make sure the Alpha spark went to him.”

Derek’s eyes are wide. His bare chest expands rapidly as he pulls in a sharp breath. He stares at Peter as though he’s seeing him for the first time. As though his world had flipped.

Stiles’s reaches for Derek’s free hand, and squeezes it. He opens his mouth and says something he never thought he would: “Peter’s not the bad guy here.”

Peter moves into the moonlight. There’s blood on his clothes. His claws are extended.

“Clever boy,” he says, his voice low. “I knew you were.”

“Yeah.” Stiles struggles to sit up, Derek helping him. “Kate couldn’t get to you in the hospital because of the nurse, right? Because she had some mojo that was keeping you on a sort leash—pardon the expression—and it was also keeping hunters away. She’s the one who killed Laura, because she wanted an Alpha attack dog, and she already had you in her control.”

Peter tilts his head. “Wolves should never be chained, Stiles. We don’t like it.”

He’s still at least ninety percent unhinged sociopath, Stiles figures, but Stella was right about him, wasn’t she? She and Stiles aren’t on his murder to-do list. It’s more comforting that it should be, but screw that. Why shouldn’t Stiles have a killer on his side? A killer might be exactly what it takes.

And—the last piece of the puzzle slots together for him—it’s because of Peter that Kate took Dad and Stella anyway.

“You said Kate tried to take me as bait,” he says. “But you were wrong.”

The look on Peter’s face—half curious, half scornful—tells Stiles he doesn’t hear that very often.

Stiles pushes on. “It’s not Derek she wants. Well, she did, but only to get to you. And now she’s got Stella and my dad.”

“She has Stella?” Peter’s lip draws back, showing his fangs. His eyes flash red.

Derek’s hand is warm on the back of Stiles’s neck.

The murder in Peter’s gaze is even warmer.  

[maelstrom3]

My last post got erased, so maybe that’s a good thing. It was just a rant about insecurity and stuff. Last night we went on a date and it was really good. We parked at her job and luckily she  knows the area so she  lead us to the sandwich shop. Right off the bat she was really energetic and friendly in a way that kind of reminded me of mom. The conversation was constant and there was laughing and whatnot. She’s a big loud laugher, which I like. I can’t tell if she’s being overly polite and laughing harder than she wants to but whatever it is it works. We chatted about a whole bunch of stuff, there was thunder she loves thunder and lightning too. She went on a trip to Kenya to help poor people but they sent her to a resort with John travolta? She went to West virginia for some volunteer thing. We picked up the sandwiches and it was funny because she placed the order under her name and I thought she had put it under my name haha. We walked to the reflecting pool. I talked a lot about my bad dating skills and awkward momements. I spent a lot of time telling her these things that might have been an overshare but she seemed really receptive to all of them and valued that I was being vulnerable. I don’t like that dynamic to be honest, I don’t want her to be my therapist. I’ll try and moderate that and make sure it’s all in the name of levity. It mostly was but perhaps a bit of it was more to defend myself and give reason to the ways that I am. Like prefacing a story with a statement. We went ot the reflecting pool and ate sitting on the stones next to it. THe summer rolls were a disaster to eat and we watched ants feast on the fallouts of mine. It was definitely not pretty, I was pretty hungry and not eating very politely but she laughed and enjoyed it. She asked me if I was an insect what insect I would be. I couldn’t come up with anything. It’s a hard questions, either because I don’t know myself, don’t want to describe myself accurately/only want to use positive descriptors, and/or the dificulty in ascribing qualities to bugs. She said I was a stick bug because I was... I can’t remember lol. Maybe I was cool or osmething, I really can’t remember. She asked me what I thought she was and she thought I was going to say ant but she was the opposite. I said jumping spider because she’s an individual. I guess to add on to it she’s energetic/lively and has personality and is likable. Maybe I tried to hard on it haha. I also didn’t want to be complimenting too hard. We finished up and were going back to her job to put the sandwiches in the fridge to get them later. We washed up and as we were leaving a spanish looking family were coming to the door and she let them in, they said they were there to clean and she let them in. I cracked a joke about not throwing my food in the fridge away because I wanted to break the tension of a couple coming out of a workplace after hours. She started to wonder if she just  let people in to rob the place haha. She texted Linda about it and apparently it was fine. We went to the Famished Frog/Caps and had cocktails. I had a raspberry gin blossom one and she had some blueberry lemonade thing. They were kind of awful and completely unmixed. The table was slippery anywhere water would touch because of residual soap. We talked for about 2.5 hours. She was telling me stories about Cooper/Collin from 4th grade (her first heartbreak and the say Collin found out nobody cared if he went missing). She asked me which character I was from Rick and Morty and described herself as Mr.Meseeks because she’s always trying to hard to help and make situations okay, her being loud, and existential dread hahahah. I was telling her when I had the epiphany from reading East of Eden of how these people from a different time and place had the same problems as me and she roasted me or discovering ‘empathy’ and the universal human experience. She told me a story of how in Ireland she was at an Air BnB with a lady named after some goddess, ends with ‘id’, and she kept finishing her tea to be polite and the lady kept refilling it, and the next day the lady made her three whole pots. I was beaming at her the whole time. She’s funny and smart and entertaining and thinks I tell stories funny and can laugh at herself and me and the people around us. I don’t have to be nervous about being myself because she’s magically on the same page.I think she’s attractive, but her mind is just a massive turn on. It makes me feel inadequate, like she’ll eventually find out I can’t keep up. But that hasn’t happened yet and it’s not helpful to worry about it. We left after the closed. I wanted ot kiss her at one point and grabbed her arm and leaned it but it just didn’t happen, she didn’t seem to catch it. Right as they were closing a girl standing by us slowly poured her drink out, then quietly dropped it to the group even though there was a garbage right by. Erin was quietly losing her shit at this ‘garbage person’. I guess that’s where I got confused, at some point she started to turn into Amara. Hilarious overflowing cauldron of sarcasm and resentment towards stupid people. Jesus christ that’s who I am too. We went ot he bathrooms and were in the Famished Frog when it was closed and empty and she said it was a childhood dream of hers. We left and she gave me a tour of the town. I held her hand and she made jokes about it and was weird about it- I asked if I wasn’t supposed to and if it wasn’t okay, I said I just wanted to it was just a feeling and she let me. She has really slender fingers. That lasted till she pointed out a stump that had hollowed and asked why it was hollow. I didn’t know where I stood and didn’t push it but I wanted to. I walked closely and let my hand be there and available just incase but we didn’t hold hands for the rest of the night. I can’t tell if she’s not affectionate or just wasn’t at the same place as me. I would grab and touch her periodically, I did the hug from behind thing. She didn’t resist but she didn’t reciprocate. We walked and talked more and eventually got back to the cars. We went inside her office and chatted briefly. Its a really nice office. We went to the back and sat in her trunk and watched people through the windows and talked. It had ebbs and flows, she asked me what my favorite part of the date was... I can’t remember what I said. Maybe the girl pouring out her drink. I told her a lot of times I was having a really good time. I don’t know if that played in my favor but I was emotionally open throughout the night. She's hard to read. She got onto a thing about how she hates morristown and were joking about it being awful, it really reminded me of Amara. In the light she started to look like who she looked in her Bumble profile. I said something about how I don’t know how she looks. I like her face. She texted me later making fun of me for saying I didn’t know what she looked like. Maybe this is all the dynamic, she’s emotionally guarded and I’m the one who is open and vulnerable.  Eventually she said we should get going and I told her my least favorite part of the date was when I tried to kiss her and it didn’t happen. She said she didn’t realize and I think I sort of asked if we could kiss. Something weird happened and she like moved out of the way, kind of like Lauren. I walked away dramatically about how I’m cursed and came back to her and this time I fucked it up and dodged her kiss and she gave me shit and then we finally kissed. Like moths bumping into  a light bulb haha. It was  nice, it’s weird how you can’t describe how to french kiss but you know how to do it. I gave her shit for still holding onto her stuff and she immediately dropped everything to the floor and like really kissed me. Like a really grabbing kiss. We talke very briefly afterwards and she gave me the song ‘Holocene’ to listen to, I wanted her to listen to I WIsh You Were Here. I had played the song Echo briefly before. I drove home and wasn’t totalyl sure where I stood honestly but I had asked her what her favorite part of the date was and she said all of it. The whole date was a good feeling. It was fun and she made me feel good. She said she would go on a second date so we have to figure that out. I’m trying to figure out how much to text and communicate, she has been unresponsive for some time but  honestly the texting thing is annoyin. Liek do you have to have a running conversation the whole day? WHADYA SUPPOSED TO DO? I’m leaving now to go to a barbeque at Andrews neighbors, Kara should be there. It’s ironic I’m meeting her after having gone on a date with Erin. I’ll go just to make the connection but I hope things work out with Erin, I’m kind of smitten.

[tyson-berry-blog]

Matthew Tkachuk #1 - Festival

Anon asked: Can i request a matt tkachuk imagine where you guys go to a carnival together?

Yes anon you can request a Matt Tkachuk one! I am so sorry y’all that it has been taking a lot longer to write. Life has been kind of hectic recently but after today it should be smoothing out. Little side note: I have an ex-boyfriend who looks weirdly similar to Matthew so when I was doing my research and whatnot for this it caught me by surprise because I thought I was looking at my ex. I hope you enjoy this!

Every July the city of Calgary throws an event called “The Calgary Stampede” that is full of good music, fun rides and delicious food. You and your family had been going for as long as you could remember. This time around you had your boyfriend Matthew in attendance and he had yet to attend. You were excited to show him around the festival and hoped it brought as much joy to him as it did you.

At first he was reluctant to attend. He had a fear of heights he thought he had kept a secret but you had known almost since the beginning of your relationship when he kept making excuses to not climb trees with you. Your favorite ride at the festival was the Ferris Wheel so naturally he was nervous. You eventually persuaded him to join you with looks of affection and a bit of guilt tripping. You weren’t above taking drastic measures to get what you wanted.

On the day of the festival you were thrumming with excitement and thought you were going to vibrate out of your shoes. Matthew was happy that you were happy. Because you forced him to wake up early you were some of the first in line and had your pick of the attractions. You led him through the tents by your intertwined hands and narrowly avoided running into a few people.

You felt it’d be best to start off easy with the rides and eventually build up to the more intense ones; the carousel seemed like a good place to start. The morning flew by and soon your stomach ached from laugher and being hungry. Matthew went off to find lunch while you found a place to sit. A thankfully vacant bench was nestled beneath a large tree providing shade from the sweltering heat. Your boyfriend returned ten minutes later balancing two waters and two hotdogs in his hands. He passed one of each to you and removed several condiment packets from his pocket. You took what you needed and bit into the hotdog. It was from the Sal’s Hotdogs stand judging by the paper it was wrapped in which was the same place you would get lunch from when you came with your parents. A small smile appeared on your face when you realized it meant Matt had listened to the offhand comment you had made earlier in the week.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” you asked him.

He had just taken a bite of his hotdog so he nodded instead of speaking.

“Good. The rodeo starts at two so we can check that out or we can go play some games. I think we should wait a bit before we go ride anymore rides.”

“Whatever you want to do.”

“Well I saw a ring toss game as we walked in.”

He groaned, “I’m not great at ring toss.”

“All I’m saying is if I walk out of here teddy bear-less we might have a problem,” you joked.

A look of determination came over his face, “let’s do this.”

The two of you walked hand in hand over to the game section of the festival. It had the generic ones of that every festival seemed to have like knocking over the milk bottles or basketball toss. There was a game tucked into the corner that you hadn’t noticed before but attracted Matthew like a moth to a flame. It was a hockey target game in which the competitor got four attempts to hit any of the targets set up in the goal.  The more targets they hit the bigger the prize.

“Do I have to do the ring toss or can I pick any game?” he asked.

“I don’t care, as long as I get a bear.”

Matthew nodded once then went to approach the man at the game. He explained the rules and said that each target was worth a certain amount of points. The highest amount of points you could earn was twenty and the prizes were ranked based on the amount of points gathered. The largest bear available could only be claimed after seventeen points. It was obvious that value was set so that the biggest prizes weren’t easily obtained but luckily for you your boyfriend shot pucks for a living. He hit the five-point target easily with his first three shots and just for good measure hit the three-point target to claim the bear.

The man working the booth gaped at him, “you play hockey or something?”

“Or something,” Matthew joked.

The bear you picked had light brown fur and a Calgary Flames jersey on. It could not have been more perfect.

“I think I’ll name him Jon Grizzlies; you know like Jon Gillies.”

“You couldn’t think of any other name?”

“I mean I can’t call him something dumb like Matthew Tkachuk,” you teased.

“Whatever.”

“Besides. Why do I need to name the bear after you when I have the real thing right here?”

That got a smile out of him and he wrapped an arm around your waist. The sun had begun to set so the lights on the rides and around the park started turning on. Everything was soon bathed in bright pinks and blues and it took a second for your eyes to adjust to the change. The two of you had ridden the majority of the rides save for the Ferris Wheel which you wanted to save to the end. Matthew tensed up beside you when you walked to the line for the ride. Luckily for him the seats on this one were enclosed with a cage. The carts were big enough that the two of you could sit on one side and the bear on the other. When it was finally your turn to get on you held your boyfriend’s hand tightly and let him sit on the side away from the door. You strapped in and sat back with your head on his shoulder. He was firmly looking down but you prompted him to lift his head for at least the beginning. The cart steadily climbed and paused at the top.

“Why did it stop?” the panic was evident in his voice.

“So the next group can get on.”

He let out a shaky breath, “okay. I’m fine. It’s all good.”

“Matthew.”

He turned to look at you and you pulled his face to yours so you could kiss him. He was facing his fear for you and it made you like him even more even though he was clearly embarrassed. The ride finally brought you back to the beginning and you two climbed out. Matthew had the bear clutched firmly in his arms and you snapped a photo as he walked ahead. You posted it on Instagram with the caption “It has been a bear-y good night” and tagged both Matthew and Jon Gillies.

When you caught up to your boyfriend he grabbed your hand with his free one and you headed out to the car.

With the bear safely in the back seat he turned to you, “why did Jon text me about not getting an invitation to the festival?”

“No reason,” you did you best to keep a straight face.

“I don’t believe you; I’ll get it out of you.”

You laughed, “there is nothing to tell.”

He rolled his eyes but dropped it, “did you have fun?”

“Yes I did. Thank you for coming with me.”

“Of course. Who else can you force to win you a bear?”

“Yeah speaking of. I got what I wanted from you. Relationship over.”

He ignored the implications, “if anything I should get to keep the bear. I was the one who competed for it.”

“Yes but I was the motivation for you to win it so it should be mine.”

“Or we could have joint custody of it.”

“Of Jon,” you corrected, “what happens to him if we break up?”

“We could just not break up.”

You smiled, “yeah I like that idea.”

[calosoma-amitch]

“The Laugher” (Charadra deridens), Fishers Island, NY. June 2017.  The moth gets its name from the image of its wings, that, when at rest, resemble a laughing face. Someone let me know if you can see it, because I don’t! The caterpillars favor beech and oak in the Mid-Atlantic, but can feed on birch and maple as well. The Laugher tends to eat older, tougher leaves that other caterpillars might not find palatable.  Two generations in the summer, with caterpillars appearing from late spring into the fall.