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As Thistle lay there falling asleep that night, all he could think about was how lucky he was. He had all the love he needed right here. His new family was expanding, his friends all getting along and helping him build a community. Downstairs, Severa had her egg and was glowing with happiness about her support. Across the room, Marcy lay cozy in bed, ready to help him with anything he needed.
And beneath him, Moon snoozed comfortably. The perfect pillow. Thistle ran his fingers through the fluff on Moon's chest–poking out of his v-neck in a very picturesque way.
Moon cracked open an eye to reveal he had not been sleeping at all. “Like what you're feeling?”
“Yes.” Thistle pressed his cheek into it. “You smell nice.”
Moon chuckled and drew Thistle closer to him. “You're not so bad to hang around with yourself.”
“I'm glad you're here.”
“Yeah?”
“It feels good. All the love in the house.”
“It certainly does.” Moon went for a kiss–aimed for Thistle's mouth, then swerved for his cheek, then second- and third-guessed himself and kissed the top of Thistle's head instead.
Thistle smiled. “Maybe we should. Y'know. Kiss more.”
“Whatever you like, my dear.”
“I'm not sure if you're my boyfriend, but I like you and you're really handsome.”
Moon tried not to spiral. Kissing was moving fast for Thistle, but expressing genuine affection without a costume to protect him from it was moving fast for Moon. Start with the simple, basic, concrete facts. After all, it was refreshing how honest and straightforward Thistle was, right? “You’re an amazing and wonderful person. You're very important to me, and I want to spend a lot of time with you.”
Thistle blushed and hid his face down in Moon’s fluff. “Do you want to… have sex?” he said, very, very quietly.
“Uh.” Moon made a noise before he could even think of a good reaction. It seemed… wrong, somehow, to think of having sex with Thistle. Like sex had been his old life, and now he had to hide it from pure, good Thistle, lest he be contaminated. It was why he’d kept Rosy as far away from Thistle as possible. “I mean.”
“I thought you would want to.”
“I do, but…” But what? Why was he panicking about it now? “I want it to be at a time when you’re fully ready.”
“I’m not sure if I am.”
“Then you’re not.” That he knew for sure. Any time he'd seen someone who didn't know if they were ready go through with it, it'd always been a mistake on their part. Moon stopped thinking about it before he could start feeling guilty about his long history of monstrous actions. I’m not going to be that person anymore. For Thistle. “I will wait for you to initiate, and I will wait for as long as it takes.”
Thistle rubbed his pointer finger on Moon’s chest. “I want to kiss, though.”
“That we can do.” That was safer. They’d done that before.
Thistle crawled up Moon’s chest until they were looking directly into each other’s eyes. It felt like Thistle was looking into his soul instead of his eyes. Moon felt naked, no costume to protect him from the affection. No way to not think about the fact that it was his real self under scrutiny here, not something he built up. He averted his eyes first.
Thistle chuckled and poked his nose. “You’re silly.”
Moon lifted his leg and gave Thistle a gentle push, bringing him closer. “You’re silly.”
Thistle leaned in and kissed him. Moon had done this countless times before, to siphon off magic from unsuspecting victims. But here… he was just doing it for enjoyment. And it felt nice. And it felt nice for Thistle, and that was the feeling Moon was chasing now, the high of seeing Thistle feeling good at his hands.
Moon! There was a psychic shout directly into his brain, in a woman’s voice. Moon flailed, startled, and Thistle slid off him.
“Eh?” Thistle said. “Did I do something wrong?”
“You didn’t hear that?” Moon said.
“Hear what?”
Moon, help!
“Rosy,” Moon said. He threw the covers back. “She’s ramming a magical projection directly into my skull to avoid waking anyone else up.”
Help! She’s going to kill me!
“You didn’t,” Moon said, full of dread.
“Moon?” Thistle said.
Moon stood and hopped off the desk. “I’ll be right back, my little wildflower, no cause for alarm.”
Thistle watched him go, then looked over at Marcy, still sleeping. And he was conflicted, because last time he’d run off to help someone without waking Marcy, he’d gotten his legs broken and left for dead.
But… Rosy hadn’t wanted to wake anyone else in the house up. Only Moon.
This was different now. He wouldn’t leave the house. He wasn’t alone.
Thistle climbed down the desk using the little rope ladder dangling off the edge. He skittered out and went down the stairs one at a time, using his one-and-a-half wings to modulate his fall.
And when he peeked through the banister rail, Severa was out in the living room with Rosy wrapped up in her coils. Moon had his hands out placatingly. “Stop! Wait, Severa, let’s talk about this!”
“This wretched bitch was trying to steal my egg,” Severa hissed, coils rolling, and Rosy let out a squeak. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t break every bone in her body!”
“Moon?” Thistle said. “What’s happening?”
Moon looked between them, hesitant. Then burst out: “I told you, Rosy, I told you the house is off-limits!”
A pit formed in Thistle’s stomach. He dropped down and jogged the rest of the way over to the confrontation. “Severa–please. Let her go and let’s talk.”
At the suggestion from him, Severa dropped Rosy instantly. The succubus fell to all fours coughing raggedly. “Ah, Moon, my dear, just in time-”
“Don’t my dear me, you Jezebel,” Moon seethed. “You knew what a stupid move this would be, yet you did it anyway.”
“Why were you touching Severa’s egg?” Thistle cried.
This was it. There was no way to hide it any longer. “Thistle, there’s something you should know about us,” Moon said heavily. “My kind are… cradle-robbers. Rosy was trying to swap our baby out for Severa’s egg, to trick her into raising it.”
Thistle looked sadly at Severa and Rosy. “Rosy. Rosy. No.”
“I told her,” Moon said, panicked tears pooling in his eyes. “Rosy, I told you over and over not to do it.”
Rosy hauled herself to her feet. “Well, you left me to do all the work myself!”
“What work? All you had to do was not swap the baby out with anyone in the house!”
“It’s not like there are many other options! And it was hard enough to sneak into the nest with everyone around watching! You can’t tell me you wouldn’t have done the same if you’d been stuck with the larva.”
Thistle stood watching the two argue, feeling numb. “Moon. Your kind steals babies?”
Moon looked from Thistle to Rosy, panicking. He grabbed her by her fluff. “I was serious when I said do not mess this up for me, Rosy. Get out. Get out right now. Don’t ever contact me again.”
Rosy offendedly ripped her fur out of Moon’s hands. “Fine, I’ll just take the larva and go.”
Thistle looked over into Severa’s nest and saw two identical eggs.
Oh no.
Oh no.
“Now which one is mine again?” Rosy said.
Severa hissed and blocked the door with her good arm. “Leave them both. I won’t risk you taking my egg.”
Rosy sneered and held up her hands. “Fine, I guess I'll just leave, then.”
“Hold on.” Severa’s eyes bounced between Rosy and Moon. The enchanted lights on the porch, which has been glowing soft yellow this whole time, turned dangerous red. “Cradle-robbers you say?”
“Not the sires, usually,” Moon raced to answer, seeing all too clearly where this was going.
“Now hold on a minute!” Rosy said.
“What have you been doing with the children you’ve stolen?” Severa said, sides heaving with dangerous hissing.
“What do you think I’ve been doing with them, raising them as my own?”
Severa let out an enraged hiss and lunged towards Rosy, her hand ghosting against Rosy’s wings as the succubus leapt up and out of range. Severa threw herself to follow, lunging again, but Rosy used a bit of magic to teleport up and onto the windowsill.
She paused just long enough to toss over her shoulder: “Moon, don’t come crawling back to me when you realize what you’re missing.”
“Go, woman!” Moon shouted. “For fuck’s sake!”
She vanished.
Moon turned to Severa with some visible trepidation. “I’m sorry, Severa. I’m very, very sorry. I told her in no uncertain terms not to touch your egg.” He spread his hands and bowed. “I know how much it means to you, and I would never do anything to jeopardize that, whether purposefully or through carelessness.”
Severa was in his face in an instant, angry eyes drilling into him. “I had no idea we had a baby-killer in the house.”
He grimaced and lowered the dip of his bow even further, shrinking away.
“Hold on!” Thistle said, dashing over and waving his hands in between them. “Hold on, Severa!”
“I haven’t,” Moon said. “I never once laid a hand on a child. I barely ever see children, not even my own.”
“There, you see?” Thistle said. “It was all Rosy.”
“He is an accomplice,” Severa spat. “Just because his biology excuses him from giving birth does not mean he is innocent when his mate commits such crimes for his children, with his full knowledge.”
Moon sunk to the ground, all hope of maintaining his dignity lost. “It’s true,” he said. “I knew what she was doing, and I never thought to stop it. It’s monstrous, I know.”
“But he never did anything,” Thistle argued. “It was entirely up to Rosy!”
“You are just telling yourself that to feel better about the situation!” Severa accused. “Because you want to accept this creature into the house!”
Thistle looked away, uncomfortable.
Severa tensely crawled back into her nest, hackles raised. “I was careless to leave my egg for even an instant.”
“I’ll help,” Moon rushed to offer. “I’ll get you whatever you need so you don’t have to leave the nest.”
“You will go nowhere near my egg.” Severa pulled her door shut.
“I can help you figure out which egg is the changeling,” Moon offered desperately.
A pause. Then, Severa cracked the door open. “Will the changeling harm my baby?”
“...No, I suppose it won’t. Not any moreso than a typical baby would its sibling.”
“Then I have two eggs now. Let it be a surprise which is which.” She shut the door. “Now leave.”
***
Moon excused himself to brood, hastily making his exit before Thistle could initiate a conversation about what had just happened.
Just when it’d seemed like things were going well.
He sat in the moonlight, thinking. About his own parents–or rather, the borrowers that raised him. About how they must have felt. What they must have thought about him. Even though they were long dead by now. About how Severa had simply kept the egg.
About what they might have done if he’d stayed. If he’d asked them to still love him knowing what he was. To knowingly have an incubus in their home, giving it affection freely, the way Thistle had been doing until now.
Would they have done it, like Severa did?
Would Moon have killed Summer the borrower, if it'd been necessary to sneak his own larva into his parent's nest? Would he have smashed Severa's egg, killed Petunia? Would he have smothered Thistle as a baby if he hadn't been excused from the chore by his biology?
The answer he doesn't want to face is that he probably wouldn't have, but only because he didn't want to get his hands dirty. He was both spineless and completely amoral. And he'd been fine with that, until he saw what being something else could get you.
Those two borrowers that had raised him, did he even have the right to call them his parents?
He sat on the roof under the moonlight and set up his wardrobe so he could use the mirror. He shrunk himself down, crushing his bones into a borrower's skeleton. He pulled his fur out into a chestnut brown. He pulled his ears out. He sculpted a tail.
He looked at himself very carefully in the mirror, judging his appearance. Unlike every other time he'd done this, he wasn’t trying to make himself as attractive as possible. He was trying to make himself look like someone very specific. The grown up version of a child he'd seen in the mirror long ago, a lifetime ago.
He uses a finger to dot some freckles on his face. There. That was just about right.
He left his eyes red. Both because eye color was hard to change, and because he wanted Thistle to be able to guess it was him. To spare him from having to say it. To just allow him some sort of buffer.
He put on his borrower clothes, then shrunk his wardrobe down to put it back in his pocket. He scampered back to the house, ducking in through the window.
Thistle was asleep in Marcy’s hand.
Moon rappelled down the wall and jogged over to Marcy’s bed. “Hello?” he called up.
Thistle rolled over, peering down over the edge of the bed. “Hello?” he answered quietly.
Moon’s luminous red eyes disappeared and reappeared in the dark as he blinked. “My name is Summer. I’m a little lost. I was hoping you'd be kind enough to let me take shelter in your nest. It looks like it's about to rain out.”
Thistle stared at him. Just for a moment. Then, he climbed off Marcy and jumped down, sitting down next to Moon so they could look eye-to-eye. “Hi, Summer. I’m Thistle. You’re welcome here. You can stay for as long as you want to.”
“That’s very kind of you.” Moon wrapped his tail around his feet. “It seems like you welcome all kinds here.”
“That’s right. We even have predators here. But only if they agree to work for a better life with us. One where everyone has to suffer as little as possible.”
“That sounds wonderful.”
“Yeah. It is. It’s not without its challenges, though. Some people here have done some pretty bad stuff.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I have this one friend, and he’s spent his whole life being selfish and evil. But you know what? All it took was him deciding to be better to make him fit in here. That’s what we all have in common, is that we work together to make things better for all of us.”
“What about justice?”
“Justice is… sort of a human concept. It’s not without merits. But my kind just sort of… doesn’t operate that way, you know.”
Moon drew his knees up to his chest, feeling smaller than ever. “I bet your friend isn’t used to being shown that kind of understanding. I bet he doesn’t know how to handle it. I bet he yearns so much for a better life that he panics when anything threatens to take it away.”
“That’s okay. I’m patient with him.”
“I bet he's not used to people doing things like that for him after he's told them who he really is. I bet he doesn't know how to handle people liking the real him."
“I think you’re probably right. But you know what? I know the real him can be a really good person, if he just decides to be better. That’s what we’re all doing. Just working to be better every day.”
Moon wiped his eye on the back of his paw, horrified to find that he couldn't stop himself from crying. "Maybe he doesn't even know who he is. Maybe he's spent so long pretending to be other people that he doesn't know who he is when he's alone."
“Well, maybe he has room to figure that out now. Maybe he doesn’t have to let the past dictate his future. Hm?”
Moon wanted it so bad it hurt. His old wounds from forever ago, the man he used to be, have been being reopened more and more recently, and it hurt. The possibility of a better life with genuine love has been within his reach, and it was so fucking scary thinking about how it could be yanked away again if he loosens his grip on it.
When had he become so foolish?
"I want to believe that," he says, scarcely above a whisper. "But it's so dangerous to hope. It’s hard.”
“It’s hard, but… I know you can do it. You’ve done some amazing things.”
Moon let out a strangulated sigh. “This is who I was born as, you know. Summer the borrower.”
Thistle put his arm around Moon’s shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “Summer the borrower is nice, but I know this really cool guy named Moon who's even better.”
Moon laughed sadly. “I bet Summer’s parents didn’t feel that way when they found out their baby was gone.”
“You were literally a baby when that happened. And they raised you, didn’t they? They were your parents.”
“I stole their love, Thistle. That was a century ago, but I bet if they were still alive to ask, they would resent me.”
“Well… kind of a moot point now, isn’t it?” He poked Moon’s chest. “Maybe now we can think about our actions now and how we can take responsibility for things going on, huh?”
Moon sighed, ashamed. “I’ve always just avoided thinking about what she was doing with the babies she’d swapped out. I never asked, but I could have imagined. I’d just chosen to ignore it.”
“And why was that?”
“Thistle, I… I don't have any excuses. I knew full well what Rosy was doing with the larva I sired for her, and I didn't think it my problem. It was a careless, foolish, and selfish way to live my life. And I understand now the kinds of values that would drive someone to acknowledge the problem and do something to put a stop to it, and I've seen what it can do. Here, with you. And I want to be part of that.”
“You can be. You already are. You’ll always have a place here, as long as you want to be part of it like that.”
Moon stood, trying to regain some of his dignity. “I suspect I'll just forever be on Severa's naughty list now. Not that I blame her. I just doubt I will be able to do anything to redeem myself to her.”
“Well… she’s got a bonus baby now, because of you.”
“I doubt I really get credit for that.” Moon wiped his eyes. “I guess I can take off the costume now. Haha…embarrassing that I had to use it as a crutch to talk about my feelings, but it was certainly therapeutic."
Thistle giggled. “I’m glad. Hey.” He tugged on Moon’s sleeve. “Why don’t you try sleeping in Marcy’s hand with me?”
Oh, that was the thing Moon had been avoiding until now. Despite how inconvenient it was for Thistle to have to choose between sleeping with Moon and sleeping with Marcy. Marcy had been doing very well at easing Moon into being around humans while respecting his boundaries, but he was still… hesitant. He’d been on the desk for now, and no closer.
But it seemed less scary now. He smiled. “All right, Thistle. I’ll give it a try. For you.”
All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 20: Lost and Found (Part 3)
Story Masterpost
On AO3
This is the end of story #2, but story #3 is going to pick up right where this one left off, just like the break between #1 and 2! I just realized this was a great note to end the story on and use the next chapter to start a new narrative focus!
Unfortunately, this story will temporarily be going on hiatus now that this installment is done. Don’t worry though, it WILL be coming back! Probably in December, when I will have more time to write! Looking forward to it!
Make sure you are on the taglist or subscribed on AO3 if you want to be notified when it comes back! Thanks for reading! <3
And as always, thanks to @static-stars and @appelsiinilight ! :)
In this chapter: The horrors of BEING VULNERABLE and ACCEPTING HELP!
***
It took a solid ten seconds for Thistle to be able to hear anything again over the ringing in his ears. The bright flare that'd been blotting everything out faded, and his vision cleared. He started to feel the ache and realized he’d been thrown to the floor. He coughed, because the room was full of smoke.
Everything was hot. It occurred to him that he was on fire. Colin was overhead though, body hazy through the smoke and voice shouting wordlessly over the ringing in his ears. He scooped Thistle up and patted him, squishing him a bit, putting the fire out as quickly as Thistle became aware of it.
He shook his head, blinking and trying to clear his head. "What? What happened?"
"I don't know, there was an explosion from somewhere. You okay?"
Was he? He thought so. He nodded, out of breath.
Colin set Thistle on the table and made his way over to Marcy, who was in the kitchen swearing in a constant stream. Her hand was in the sink, cold water running over it. "What the fuck, what the fuck."
"Let me see, Marce, you okay?"
Thistle swiveled his head back towards the dining room. Severa, Jewel, Violet, and Petunia were all cautiously peeking their heads around the doorframe trying to figure out what had happened. They looked as confused as Thistle felt.
Marcy came back into the dining room, tears streaming down her face. She had a very nasty-looking burn on her hand running up to her elbow, which was currently glistening wet and dripping from the cold water. Colin was at her side. "Holy shit, I'll go get the first aid kit," he said, hustling up to the bathroom.
Thistle dashed over. "Marcy! Marcy, are you okay?"
"Um," she choked. "I think so. Just. Just. Wow."
Thistle touched her uninjured hand. "I’m sorry you got hurt. Don't worry, Marcy, I'll take care of you and nurse you back to health just like you always do for me."
Marcy smiled and let out a little laugh. "Thank you, sweetheart. I’m just glad I still have all my fingers. That was…scary. Is everyone else okay?”
They both looked around trying to find him, and their eyes eventually landed on the broken window nearby, shattered in the explosion. Some of the glass shards were tipped with small bloodstains. His tiny sunglasses were on the windowsill, lenses broken and frames bent.
***
"Moon? Moon! Where are you? Are you hurt? Let us help you!"
He knew Moon wasn't going to come out for a human, but no way Thistle was walking around out here to look for Moon by himself.
He really would have preferred Marcy, but her hands which were so good at delicate detail work were currently burned and aching. Heck, he would have even preferred Teddy, if he were honest with himself, but she was at work.
That just left Colin, who tromped through the grass with Thistle in his hands. "Hey, lil dude? Where'd you go? Come on out!"
"We just want to help!" Thistle yelled, trying to make himself as loud as Colin so Moon wouldn't hear only Colin.
They found him eventually. Colin spotted the blood trail and knelt down, finding him curled up and shaking under a leaf. He had burn marks all over, clothes and delicate fur singed and glistening red with blood in some spots. His pupils were contracted to pinpoints, half blind, either from the explosion or from the daylight out now. Blood pooled under him from a huge gash in his thigh, disgorging blood at an alarming rate. He looked pale and like he was fighting passing out.
"Moon," Thistle said urgently, stepping off Colin's hand.
“You-you came,” he said incredulously. Like Thistle had descended from the Heavens as an angel. Like it was a miracle. “Even though you know what I am. Even though I hurt your friend. I didn’t expect you to follow me.”
"Moon, let me help you.”
“You want to…help me?”
“You're hurt really badly. You're losing a lot of blood."
Moon nodded warily. "You can help me."
Thistle turned back to Colin. "We have to get him inside and use the first aid kit. We need to stop the bleeding."
"Not him!" Moon cried, scrambling backwards.
"Moon," Thistle said tearfully. "Please. Please let Colin help you. I can't do it on my own."
"How am I supposed to trust him? I know what his kind is capable of!"
"I could say the same thing about you!" Thistle shouted. "Stop being a pissy little baby about it! How do you expect me to trust you if you act like my friends are going to try and kill you? They've never done anything but be nice to you! And I know there must be something in your past that's making you act this way, and I know you must have been hurt really badly, and I'm not saying you have to just forget it or act like it didn't happen. I get it, I do! It's hard to trust them! They're scary and huge! But they're my friends and you don't know them better than I do, and I know they're going to help you and want to see you safe and healthy. And I do too, yes even after you hurt Marcy, and I know even she still does! Because that's the kind of people they are! Come on." He held his hand out. "Maybe I'll be able to trust you if you trust us. Won't you give it a try? You said you wanted what Severa got, but Severa didn't get it for free. You can't stay shut off but expect someone else to trust you. That's not how friendship works."
"I'm not sure I can," Moon said tearfully.
"If you want what Severa got from me, then you have to give me the same thing she gave me in return. You have to be vulnerable for me."
Moon stared at Thistle with tears brimming in his eyes, then took his hand. "Okay. Please."
Thistle knelt down and pressed his hand on Moon's wound. "You're going to bleed out. Colin, can you help, please?"
Moon went rigid but swallowed his protests.
"Right," Colin said. He seemed to be much less worried about the ethics of violating the bodily autonomy of someone who didn't want to be picked up than Marcy did. He scooped Moon and Thistle up together.
Moon didn't protest, but his eyes wheeled around Colin's visage with wild panic, even as the seconds stretched on and nothing bad happened. Maybe this was going to be harder than Thistle thought.
***
"Thank you for coming so quickly, Lalitha."
"You're quite welcome. I would never miss the opportunity to meet some new patients. It's an honor."
Thistle came running into the room. "Lalitha! Lalitha!"
Lalitha knelt down on the floor. "Hello, Thistle. How are you doing?"
"I'm great! Great!" He stopped in front of her, jumping up and down with excitement.
"I have something for you," she said, and she took a little fidget toy out of her pocket.
Thistle snatched it up and then ran away happily, holding it over his head. "Thank you!"
Severa was in the corner of the room watching. This was the first time she'd met either of the vets since they'd pulled her out of the shredder.
"Hello, Severa," Lalitha said diplomatically. "I'm glad to see you up and moving. Marcy's been keeping me up to date on your condition.”
Marcy did her best to translate Lalitha's message into Pixish. "She said it's good to see you awake and doing things. And I've been telling her things. About you."
"Okay," Severa said blankly.
Lalitha liked giving Thistle little presents when she came over, and Thistle liked little toys and trinkets, so she had an ample supply of those lining her pockets every visit. The other residents were harder to get gifts for because they weren't as forward about talking to new humans, and the humans had less time to get to know them.
Lalitha took another little toy out of her pocket, approaching Severa slowly and carefully. "I'm not sure if you like the same things as Thistle, but I'd like to give you this as a gift. Just to try. If you don't like it, you can give it to Thistle."
“She wants to give you a present,” Marcy translated. “She’s not sure if you’ll like it, but Thistle does.”
Severa very cautiously slithered over towards Lalitha, keeping her head low. Lalitha held out a small silicone bubble popper. Severa reached up and took it, drawing it to herself and scrutinizing it, then sniffing it, then nibbling on the corner of it a little bit.
“You push on the circles,” Marcy informed her.
“Thank you,” Severa said very seriously. “I will guard it carefully.”
She slithered away, curling up under the desk where she’d been lurking. “She said thanks,” Marcy told Lalitha. “I’m not sure she understands what she’s supposed to do with it, but I’ll show her later.”
Lalitha nodded, overwhelmed by delight at being able to meet such new and interesting creatures. She looked over at the fishtank. Jewel had been peeking out from his anemone to watch, but as soon as her eyes fell on him, he rolled over and pretended he hadn’t been looking.
“I guess I’ll meet him on his own time,” Lalitha said good-naturedly.
“Yeah, good idea,” Marcy said. “And the, um, the mouse-people are the same. Too shy. And normally I would say the same about the newest guy, but…”
Marcy had called Lalitha over because Moon was so heavily injured. They’d managed to stop him from bleeding out, but he’d been mostly sleeping since they’d brought him inside. Which, given how acutely freaked-out he was when he was awake, he must be very drained to be able to fall asleep at all.
Moon was currently sitting on the dining room table with his injured leg stretched out. Thistle was crouched nearby intently popping the bubbles on the toy Lalitha had given him. Moon had taken his clothes off due to them being burned and torn, although it didn't seem like he really needed clothes–the fuzz all over his body effectively covered everything…. although there were now patches where it'd been burned off.
Moon gave Lalitha a nervous look as the new human approached, and he sank deeper into the pile of cushions he was reclined on. Marcy approached from the other side. She was planning her own visit to the emergency room, but she’d valiantly waited until she wasn’t needed here. She figured Colin’s job with the first-aid kit was good enough for now.
Moon had apologized to her. But still. She was still a little afraid to be near him. She slipped two oven mitts on in preparation for helping. “Okay,” she said, holding them up, still standing arm’s length away. “Let’s do it.”
"Hello," Lalitha said. "It's very nice to meet you, Moon. Marcy warned me that you might be a little nervous, so please let me know if there's anything I can do to make you more comfortable."
Moon gave a tense nod.
"I'll try to touch you as little as possible. Thistle can help you if you need it."
Moon started to visibly relax a little, now looking more guarded than panicked.
"Now, can you show me the wound?"
Moon leaned forward and unwrapped the bandage on his leg with shaking hands, revealing the enormous gash from between mounds of blood-soaked cotton. "I-I cut myself on the glass when I broke the window," he said, voice wobbling. “The, the burns are, should be okay, but, but the–the cut is–” He didn’t finish. He looked terrified.
Lalitha nodded. "Okay. You'll need to move around as little as possible and drink lots of water and juice the next few days. I'll stitch it, which will help it heal, so you'll need to keep it clean. Don't get any water in it, so wait to take a bath."
Moon looked like he was starting to spiral. "I'll help him remember," Thistle volunteered.
"Thank you. Now, this looks pretty deep, so I'm going to have to put some stitches in the muscle as well. They'll dissolve in time, so there won't be any follow up, but it does mean it's going to be a bit of a long procedure…probably not as long as what we did for Severa, but it would be best if you were asleep for it."
Moon's ears dropped back. "You're going to give me drugs?"
"It'd be impossible to do it without giving you drugs, unfortunately."
"I can't," Moon said quickly. "You can't. I won't let you."
Thistle put his hand on Moon's shoulder. "It's okay, remember? You can trust Lalitha. She's helped a lot of us when we needed it most."
Moon was still visibly shaken. "I don't know. I don't know if I can do this."
"I know you can," Thistle told him. He took his hand. "I'll be right here."
“If I do this, will you let me stay?”
It hardly seemed fair. Moon was asking if he’d be allowed a favor in exchange for accepting a favor. But to Moon, the thought of going through all this and then still being asked to leave was too much to bear. He would almost rather not go through the medical treatment and risk dying than have that happen.
Thistle seemed to be aware, though. He smiled kindly. That smile Moon would do anything for. The one that made him feel like good things were actually possible. “Okay,” he said, squeezing Moon’s hand. “We can give it a try. You can stay.”
That was what Moon needed. He hadn't known, but that was it. The connection between them opened and magic poured into both of them. For the first time ever, he was getting magic from someone else because they were doing something together, on equal footing, and not because Moon was in control.
It was scary. It was intoxicating. It was a thrill he hadn't experienced in nearly a century.
And suddenly Moon also believed he could do it, simply because of Thistle's wholehearted trust in him. It was going to be scary, but he could make it through it, trusting these humans. If little, innocent Thistle could do this, surely he could too. He squeezed Thistle's hand back.
"Okay." He looked up at Lalitha, suppressing the roar of anger and anxiety screaming at him that this was a huge mistake. "I'm ready. Give me the drugs."
They gave it to him the same way they'd given it to Thistle, in a tiny syringe, because they had to be very, very careful about the dosage. They reassured him that they were going to put local anesthesia on his leg as well, so if something went wrong and he could still feel it but couldn't alert them, it wouldn't hurt.
Lalitha held the syringe near his face, and he leaned forward and put it in his mouth. He tried not to gag as the foul-tasting liquid came in.
"Come now, Moondancer, we wouldn't have to do this if you would stop being so fussy. You know everyone is going to love holding you, and we need to give them a good experience."
"We wouldn't have to do this if you would just sit still."
"We wouldn't have to do this if you would just sit still."
"We wouldn't have to do this if you would just sit still."
Tears streamed down Moon's cheeks, but he didn't pull away. Didn't resist. Swallowed it all. Let himself drift away, just like he'd been trained to.
Thistle squeezed his hand. "You're doing great. You're safe. You'll wake up nice and safe. Trust me."
He did. He trusted Thistle. He would do anything to please Thistle. That wasn’t instinct. He was coming undone at the hands of this little pixie.
***
Trust me…
He felt better as he woke up, but that was probably because the drugs hadn’t worn off yet. He fought valiantly to get back to the surface, chasing the voices speaking somewhere far above him.
He jerked away.
“Woah!” said Thistle’s voice, the voice of the pixie that Moon would do anything to please, the one person in the world he was sure was good and he could trust. He felt the little hands on his shoulders. “Hey, don’t move around too much!”
Moon opened his eyes. He was lying on the human’s couch. Thistle was bent over him, looking concerned. Marcy was behind him, looming over them both. Fear surged through him as he saw her, but…she wasn’t touching him. He wasn’t even near her. She made no move to get any closer. If she had, he would have had a breakdown, but she stayed on the other end of the couch.
Her hand was bandaged up and treated. He’s burned her, hurt her terribly, and she’d waited to help herself until after he’d gotten the help he needed.
He sat up muzzily. “How did it…how was…it?” he said foggily.
“Good!” Thistle said, wings buzzing. “Everything went perfectly! Lalitha had to leave, because it took a long time for you to wake up, but she wasn’t worried and said you should be good on your own now.”
“Is that Moon?” One of the unbearable human communication squares was nearby, and a woman’s voice came out of it. “Moon, hi! I’m Sierra! I was helping to keep Thistle company until you woke up! I’m so excited to talk to you!”
Excited to talk to him. Not to hold him. To talk to him. He started to sit up, then suddenly became aware of another presence nearby, the naga. She was curled around him, also not touching him. Thistle was sitting on her muscular coils. “How are you feeling?” Severa asked.
“I feel…” He looked in the distance and saw Jewel in the fishtank, perched on the rim and looking at him. With concern. To see how he was doing. Against all logic, even the two borrowers were here on the floor, pausing their activity to hear his answer.
The human, the merminnow, the pixie, the naga, the borrowers. They all cared about him. Even this strange human on the phone. They all wanted him to be okay. They’d all put in effort to make sure he’d be okay, when he’d been unconscious and hurt and vulnerable. Even Marcy, when he wouldn’t have ever expected any of them to think he deserved help.
When he’d escaped Edgar all those years ago, he’d burned himself and hurt himself in his haste to get away, and he’d hidden and nursed his wounds and not let anybody find him. He'd managed it all alone.
This was better. This was so, so much better.
“I feel…I feel incredible,” he said, tears flooding his eyes. “Thank you. Thank you, Thistle.”
Thistle smiled. “Good, I’m glad.”
Magic sparkled inside them both. “Hey, I think we started off on the wrong foot,” Thistle said. “Let's go a little slower. Hi, I'm Thistle. Let's be friends."
Moon shook his hand. "I'd like that."
Moon’s hand was big in Thistle’s own. Thistle found himself grinning uncontrollably. He’d never thought he’d be friends with anyone like any of these people, Moon or Marcy or Severa or Jewel or Violet. And here they all were, as if by magic. The world was so much bigger than he’d thought it was, and it had all sorts of creatures, great and small. It made him wonder what else was out there. He wanted to meet them all.
All Creatures Great and Small Chapter 19: Incubus from a Cuckoo egg
Story Masterpost
On AO3
I very much enjoyed all the responses to the previous chapter. I hope this is a good follow up that everyone enjoys <3
As always thanks to @static-stars and @appelsiinilight ! :)
In this chapter: To understand the present, you have to understand the past.
***
A note of warning: This chapter is a bit heavier than usual. It contains descriptions of someone being held captive and dehumanized as well as dubcon (ie, dubious consent) and forced drugging. I would still say this is probably rated T or PG-13, but since I like to keep Watch Your Step a bit on the lighter side, there will be a summary of the key points at the end for anyone who does not want to read this chapter the whole way through.
***
Summer was a borrower. Summer was a borrower's name.
Summer was starting to catch on that he was not a borrower.
He grew too big, too fast. He started displaying capacities for magic far beyond what even the adult borrowers around him were capable of.
He started having…. urges that borrowers did not have.
His parents kept catching him going outside at night for no reason, screaming at him that it was dangerous, that there were predators outside at night. At first all he knew was that he needed to be in the moonlight or he'd feel terrible and weak, but then he slowly started to realize…
He was the predator that was outside at night.
Summer had been a borrower, a baby, his parents' actual baby, before his actual parents had swapped them out.
Summer the borrower was dead. And this realization came just as the last of the magic binding his form into that of a young borrower faded, and the borrowers he'd been living with saw his true form.
And they screamed, because they realized all at once what he'd been realizing gradually. And it didn't bother him, because he was a predator and prey might scream when they saw you.
Nobody had taught him, but it was instinct.
***
He didn't choose a new name after that. It didn't seem like he really needed one.
He got most of his magic from the moon, but occasionally he would hunt. It wasn't a messy, violent affair like when other species did it. He was better than that. His hunting involved soft touches, sensual caresses, kisses that felt forbidden and joyous under the night sky. He hunted by being a desirable creature, and by the time his prey realized his true nature, he'd already gotten what he came for and moved on. He left a trail of broken hearts and victims with trust issues behind him, but he didn’t have to care.
Sometimes he posed as a borrower to hunt and told them his borrower name. Borrowers were easy. They were all already so lonely, from broken families lost out in this great big world. He knew them well.
He was working his way up though. He had his eye on pixies. So full of succulent, delicious magic. So easy to manipulate once their guard was down.
***
He befriended a human. The borrowers had raised him to stay away from humans, and they’d always warned him that humans were dangerous. But what did they know? They were prey and stupid. He was better than them.
Humans weren't prey, but he liked being around them. They were big and powerful. He wanted to be like them. His favorite friend was a human boy slightly younger than him in years, and they'd play games together. They’d met in a field of yellow flowers and would run around with juvenile abandon.
As silly as it felt, he treasured it. It felt nice having a connection with somebody that wasn't prey for once. He was able to get almost anyone to like him through carefully curated manipulation, but he was lonelier than ever, drowning in connections with no depth, nobody to see the real him.
He realized all at once this was his signal to find a real mate, another concubus, and have a child. And just like his parents before him, he would swindle some poor unsuspecting borrower into raising it by swapping it out with their real baby. It was instinct, just like everything else.
He would have to keep an eye out. He had no idea how to find another of his own kind. In the meantime, he tried to not be lonely by talking to his human friend and his human family. They were too large and different to ever be prey, so he didn't feel like he should be trying to hunt around them, and that was relaxing.
His friend was safe. He wasn’t lonely as long as his friend was here.
He let his guard down around them. It was the only time he ever did.
***
The humans lost everything in the stock market crash, and that's when he paid dearly for letting his guard down. They caught him, put him in a cage, and sold him for a small fortune.
They talked about it like it was a tragic necessity, like putting a family pet to sleep. The boy cried and cried and begged them not to, but they sadly told him they had to make ends meet and it was either this or selling the cow, and the cow could make milk.
***
He was kept in his cage among shrunken heads, jars full of alcohol with various dead things floating in them, shoddily-made replicas of artifacts stolen from far-off lands, taxidermied animals or small skeletons posed in amusing ways, insect collections, interesting crystals. Other curiosities.
Because that’s what he was, now. A curiosity.
It didn’t matter if the incubus formerly known as Summer the borrower hadn’t chosen a new name for himself, because one had apparently been chosen for him.
“Up and moving, now, Moondancer, people are already gathering!” It was the voice of his captor, Edgar. Mr. Edgar. Edgar the showman. Sir. That fucking bastard. Moondancer didn’t give Edgar the luxury of choosing what he was called, because Edgar hadn’t given Moondancer the luxury either.
That fucking bastard threw open the doors to the wagon he was in. The large snake and the colorful bird–the only other live inhabitants of the wagon, also crammed into cages far too small for them–jerked in surprise at the sudden intrusion of the light, although it didn’t hurt their eyes like it did for Moondancer.
That fucking bastard moved the cage out where everyone could see him. Where he had nowhere to hide. Where he stayed for hours upon hours upon hours in the harsh light being ogled at and poked at and demanded that he dance or sing or do other things to entertain them. Sometimes, if he was lucky, that fucking bastard would feed King, the Burmese python, and the audience would be more interested in watching it eat a rat than in watching his misery so he could have just a few fucking moments of peace so he could curl up in the corner and hide his eyes.
He was going to die here. He knew he was. Because that fucking bastard only let him spend time in the moonlight as a reward for good behavior. And Moondancer did not know how to behave.
***
Sometimes when Moondancer was too uncooperative, that fucking bastard would make him drink water laced with drugs that made his head foggy and his limbs heavy. He would tell the audience Moondancer was sleepy because he was nocturnal, which wasn't totally a lie.
He behaved the worst when it was time for handling. Anyone who wanted to pay an extra penny at the end of the tour could come up and hold Moondancer. But since that fucking bastard didn’t want his prize exhibit to escape, he would slap a ball and chain on Moondancer’s ankle.
"He can't fly away when he's weighed down, so he's perfectly safe to handle."
Moondancer desperately wished he was too dangerous to handle.
“It’s too tight,” he would always weep, even as he was passed from hand to hand by legions of nameless humans. They loved his fur, fine and silky like a moth’s, they loved to pet it and stroke it. Most of them were gentle, but his skin crawled nonetheless. And none of them would ever listen to him when he said the manacle was on too tight. Especially not that fucking bastard.
“Come, now, Moondancer, I know nobody likes having a chain on their ankle, but it’s just temporary.”
That fucking bastard seemed to think Moondancer was trying to lie to him to get him to take the manacle off so he could escape. Which he would, if it had any chance of success, but he wasn’t. It was always too tight. It cut off the blood flow to his foot.
His foot started to go numb or hurt even when the manacle wasn’t on. He started to stumble when pushed to dance, and that fucking bastard didn’t like that and especially didn’t like the way Moondancer tried to argue it was his own fucking fault for hurting Moondancer over and over again.
He decided to be compliant. Trying to fight had gotten him nowhere, so he simply bided his time. That fucking bastard interpreted that as his spirit finally being broken and gave him praise and encouragement for being obedient.
He got more time in the moonlight. He started to build up enough magic to cast spells. And in his spare time, he’d been working on a spell, when he had spare magic and privacy.
He could produce a tiny flame and sustain it. And he thought that if he poured all that energy into it at once, he could make an explosion. If he did that in the moment when that fucking bastard was taking him out but before the shackle was on, he might be able to make a break for it.
***
It worked, mostly. He’d hurt himself in the process, burning his own hand terribly, but he’d burnt that fucking bastard’s much worse.
And then he ran. He was being chased, but he refused to give up. He alternated between running and flying, whatever would get him away fastest while maintaining his ability to navigate in the harsh sunlight that half-blinded him.
He crashed into a tree, smacking face-first into it. It was just so hard to see where he was going. He needed to slow down. He tumbled to the ground, then righted himself and kept dashing. Anything to put more space between him and that fucking bastard and all the humans who saw him as some curiosity for their own amusement. He ran through the foliage, blinded by the harsh sunlight and leaves whipping into his face.
He didn’t care. He was getting away. He was never going to see another human again as long as he lived, he resolved it right then and there. It was unbearable.
He tripped. Not over an obstacle, but just because his gait was unsteady now. His foot was half-dead, and the tip dragged along the ground with every step. He tumbled down, landing heavily and banging his knees.
He curled up in the dirt, tears streaming down his cheeks, listening to the men shouting behind him and the sound of barking dogs in the distance. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be around humans. He wanted to be away.
He wanted to be with the borrowers who'd raised him.
It felt juvenile, but he couldn't deny it anymore. He wanted to be cared for and loved, even if it was love he had to steal.
That's what he'd been doing this whole time, to everyone. Stealing love. Taking what he wanted without caring if it hurt.
That's essentially what Edgar had been doing. Using him. Only valuing him for what he could get from him.
He felt bad about it. That wasn't instinct, not at all. He was made to use others for his own gain. He was a predator. He shouldn’t feel bad about it.
He was powerful and beautiful, like the moon that gave him energy. The dancer part was what made him feel small, like he was there for others’ entertainment and benefit.
It should be the other way around. Others were there for his benefit. He was a predator. He was powerful and beautiful.
Moon pushed himself to his feet, picked a twig up off the ground to keep himself steady, and pushed forward.
***
Moon didn't trust anyone now. He wouldn't ever again.
And he loved it when people trusted him even though they shouldn't have. He loved knowing that he'd been the one to betray someone else. To know he had that power, that they couldn't hurt him because he was going to hurt them first.
And he'd learned what it felt like to have someone else take advantage of you, to only be valued for what you provide and not have your feelings cared about.
But that didn't stop him. He knew how bad it felt, but he just got more and more drunk on the power, knowing that he wouldn't ever be hurt the way he hurt others, because he would never trust again.
"I love you," he murmured, and his current prey ground her hips against him, leaning into his neck, burying her face in his soft fur and pheromones.
"Moon," she panted. "Moon."
"Are you ready?"
"Yes!"
She was a new hivemother, recently left home with her two offspring. She'd left too early, that was obvious to Moon, and it'd made her desperate and vulnerable.
Moon laid her back on the bed, which was made of dandelion clocks and cattail fluff. He didn't get anything from it if it wasn't freely given– he had to seduce, manipulate, not just take–but that didn't mean he couldn't grease the wheels a little.
He spread his wings, massive, enveloping the two of them like a tent. They were beautiful and enormous, twin tails streaming down and out behind him. He wafted them back and forth slowly, the eyespots disappearing and reappearing like they were blinking at her. She stared at them, entranced.
It felt good, light-headed euphoria, Moon’s physical presence on top of her dominating all other thought, his pheromones enveloping her.
“You smell so good,” she breathed dreamily.
He wafted his wings slowly. “What do I smell like to you?”
“Dandelions.”
He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of her neck. “Then let me be your little flower.”
She gasped in excited, shallow breaths, straining upwards to kiss him. Her arms and legs came around him, wrapping him up. She was only almost as large as him, so he was able to bear her weight without falling. He ran his hands down the small of her back, ghosting over her own wings, which were vibrating with excitement.
She leaned in and kissed him.
That was it. That was what he needed. She leaned close, purring and squirming and gripping him desperately and whining with need. The kiss went on for a few seconds, lips ghosting over each other, eyes closed. “Moon,” she breathed.
Now. She’d let her defenses down. He gripped her back, pressing firmly into the kiss, and took.
Sparks flew as her magic started to siphon off, and he felt himself getting fuller and fuller. She didn’t seem to notice, still whimpering, seeming to interpret her new feeling of emptiness a different way, grinding against him.
He kept going. He was going to keep taking until there was nothing left to take. He gulped it down, sweet, succulent magic, feeling it flowing into him like a drug, far more than he could ever make just sitting there in the moonlight.
He was going to drain basically all her magic. The hivemother was critically important for defense in the hive’s infancy, when it was small, and she would be defenseless without magic. Her two sons wouldn't be enough to save them all if a predator came.
Then again, a predator had already come.
Maybe he'd teach her a valuable lesson, the same way he'd been taught. That she needs to not trust anyone. Better to get it now and not die, than learn the hard way later.
Finally, finally, she noticed. She pushed at him, gasping. “Stop, wait–wait, stop.”
He went up to a kneeling position. “Is everything all right?”
She looked him up and down, shaken and pale. “Are–What did you–What was that?”
He smirked, stepping off the bed and buttoning up the top flyaway buttons on his shirt. “That, my dear,” he said with a wicked smile, “was a lesson.”
He retrieved his cane from where it’d been thrown on the floor and walked out.
***
He did this for decades. His kind lived a very long time. He outlived every human that had ever abused him. Time passed. He watched humans erect cities and tear them down, the ebb and flow of giant civilization.
He branched out. Soon Pixies were easy enough, too. Everyone fell to him. Men, women, those who were neither or both. Any size, any species. If they didn't like him, he just changed himself until they did. His favorite had been a dryad from a poplar tree, who'd been so enormous that the magic Moon had stolen from him lasted most of the year.
He befriended new species, learned new languages. He started to grow bored. He'd seen it all.
Or so he thought.
One day while out scouting for his next victim, he stumbled across a pixie living openly among humans.
That was impossible, of course, at least in the long run. This pixie was asking for disaster. It was going to end poorly.
Moon felt bad for him. Moon felt the odd need to protect him, the way he'd wished someone had protected him, back before he learned not to trust.
That wasn't instinct, wanting to protect his prey.
He lurked in windows to watch, carefully staying out of sight. Something very strange was going on in this house. There was a merminnow in the fishtank–unexpected, but not too outlandish. But there were two borrowers in the house and a naga in a cage. The sheer density of magical creatures explained why he’d been able to sniff them out… his chemoreceptors had picked up their trail from miles away.
The pixie was his best target. The borrowers were jumpy, and the adult was taking care of a child–never a good time to catch someone off guard. The merminnow seemed antisocial. The naga was… Well, a naga.
He just needed to wait for an opportunity to strike.
He got one soon enough as he saw the merminnow leave the tank and walk himself outside hand-over-hand. Strange behavior. He thought about trying for the merminnow, but he eventually decided against it.
Then the Pixie walked out of the house alone, calling for his fish companion. Perfect, just what Moon needed. Moon flittered through the underbrush ahead of the pixie, trying to guess where he would go. He needed to arrange himself so that it would look like the pixie stumbled across him unintentionally. He frantically dashed around from spot to spot, posing himself and then getting up when the pixie went in a different direction.
Finally, he managed to sit down and close his eyes in an alluring, mysterious way just before the pixie came into sight. Perfect, it looked like a complete accident.
Moon opened his eyes. The pixie had an astonished look on his face. Moon had decided to go au natural for this one, not using any magic to change his appearance. Sometimes this worked on those who were curious or seemed to like meeting new species. He could tell right away it was the right choice, and that the pixie was drawn in by his pheromones.
Moon was able to make a great first impression, using a trivial tracking spell to give the pixie what he wanted. He even got a kiss and managed to steal a little bit of magic through it. The pixie was juicy and delicious–so full of ripe, succulent magic. He restrained himself. Thistle didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss.
***
Moon continued to hang around, carefully watching the goings-on in the strange house and looking for more opportunities. When Thistle went looking for him the second time, all he had to do was sit in the same spot he’d been in the first time. He performed the same spell. It was almost too easy. He didn’t take any magic on the second kiss. Best not to push his luck. If he could just get Thistle alone, he could drain all his magic and be set for the next few months. This might be even better than the poplar dryad.
***
“You really mean it. You really have compassion for her despite being terrified of her.”
Thistle played with his fork, not making eye contact. Moon felt like maybe he was looking at him for the first time.
He dared to imagine that this could end in something other than Thistle being made a fool. That Thistle was safe to trust the humans, that he could do something as monumental as bridge the gap between a pixie and a naga, between a pixie and humans.
Flashes of memories, playing in a field of yellow flowers with a human boy nearly a century ago. The fleeting feeling of happiness that had only been a prelude to his nightmare, his lesson to never trust anyone to the point where they could hurt you.
Thistle didn’t deserve that. It was going to be a shame when it happened.
***
Thistle was giving everyone a chance. Maybe he'd give Moon a chance. Maybe Moon could show Thistle the darkness in his heart and receive kindness and understanding.
But no. That was silly to want or hope for. Surely not even Thistle would want to be around him after learning Moon had betrayed his trust. Thistle would find him unloveable if he knew the truth. Moon knew at his core that he was unloveable, that the darkness in his heart meant he would only ever be good for brief, superficial connections. Connections he orchestrated and leeched from. It was the first time he'd ever regretted doing this, getting close to someone with the intention of betraying them. There was something different here, about Thistle, about this whole situation. Something that made him want to shield Thistle from the consequences of being such a vulnerable, trusting creature.
Thistle’s earnestness and genuineness was magnetizing. Something about the way he believed good things could still happen, even after bad thing after bad thing had been thrown at him, and then worked to make it happen, well. Moon had never thought working for a better life could succeed.
Moon had never thought there was anything genuinely good in the world. He kept waiting for the catch, for the other shoe to drop. But it never did. This felt real, too real for someone like him.
Being with Thistle felt a bit like being with the borrowers who'd raised him, a secret yearning he'd always pushed down as childish and irrational. To express freely and be open and genuinely loving and loved.
This wasn't instinct, none of it was. But he was starting to feel like it was something more powerful than instinct.
When he kissed Thistle this time, he didn’t even consider trying to drain anything from him. He was getting so much more than stolen magic or stolen love from it. He spent the second fantasizing not about sex or nudity, but about a better life.
He couldn’t tell Thistle. He couldn’t lose Thistle. He was suddenly more afraid of that than of anything in the world.
***
Moon was in love with the idea of Thistle. He knew that. But his obsession was growing despite his attempts to keep it in check. Moon was currently also experiencing a drop of water after a lifetime of thirst, but he knew if the truth came to light, the water would be taken away.
Everything about Thistle made Moon’s worldview fall apart. He was genuinely, whole-heartedly good and trusting, and he had friends who helped him. Good things were possible in life.
Moon had always taken advantage of others without guilt because he knew the world was cruel and if he didn’t do it, someone else would, so it might as well be him. It’s not like anything else was possible.
But what if it was?
What if Moon had been wrong? For nearly a century?
What if the walls he’d built up to protect himself had just isolated him? What if he’d been throwing away a lifetime of happiness because he’d been too calloused to see it?
What if he stopped being too calloused to see it?
“Thistle, let’s run away together.”
Thistle looked shocked. Scared. “What?”
Let me save you. If there is anything truly good in this world, let me save it from turning rotten. Those humans don’t deserve you. You don’t deserve to be betrayed by them. You don’t deserve to be hurt. You don’t deserve to learn you can’t trust anyone.
But that wasn’t right, was it? Wasn’t that the point?
He lay down that night in the moonlight with his face in the dirt, trying to make sense of the emotions tearing him apart.
***
It had worked. The craziest thing is what Thistle was trying with the naga had worked. He watched them through the window, doing activities together, laughing and painting. The naga was there among all the small creatures as though they weren’t predator and prey.
The naga held the baby borrower, and something inside Moon broke.
His internal monologue had been a constant stream of This will bite you in the end and This is foolish and isn’t going to work and They’re going to betray you.
But Thistle had trusted. Severa had trusted. And now they both looked so happy, and yes there was a human there but she looked happy too, they all looked happy and safe.
How dare they? How dare they act like it was possible to be happy? Didn’t they know this world was going to chew them up and spit them out?
Except it wasn’t. Because they were working together to make a place where that wouldn’t happen. He suddenly wanted that so badly it ached. It felt like a fire in his chest. He had never let himself hope or consider the possibility, not since he’d been young and naive.
And just as he’d been about to get up and see if he could possibly join this miraculous gathering–for real this time–Severa revealed the true him.
And Thistle was crying. He’d made Thistle cry. “How am I supposed to believe that? How am I supposed to know when you’re telling the truth? How am I supposed to trust you?”
How am I supposed to live with myself knowing I’ve made you cry?
This couldn't be happening. He’d let himself hope, dare to hope that maybe things could be better, that he could have a genuine connection with somebody, and it was going to be taken away before he could even worry about being betrayed. He’d finally opened up and admitted what he really wanted, and he was being rejected. This hurt so, so much more than when he was faking and rejected. This was why it felt so dangerous to be genuine. “Thistle, you have to listen to me.”
“I need to be alone right now.”
“Thistle, please. Please.”
“No, I need you to leave.”
“I can’t–Thistle, I can’t–”
Thistle was scared. It hurt so badly. Moon all at once realized he’d become the monster he’d hated so much in that field of flowers, and this was the first time there were consequences to that. That he couldn’t have everything he wanted, not if he wanted to truly love someone.
“You need to go.”
How dare this human try to tell him to leave? To get in the way of a real chance at happiness? To get between him and Thistle? He turned his back on her, trying to focus on Thistle. He begged tearfully. He hadn’t done that in nearly a century.
The human reached out to grab him.
“Come now, Moondancer, you have to give the people what they want. They love you.”
“I love you.”
“It’s either this or selling the cow.”
“That was a lesson.”
“Have you learned your lesson?”
“Just let them touch you. They love it. Just let them hold you. Just sit still.”
"We wouldn't have to do this if you would just sit still."
"Just let them hold you."
He was being squeezed in a hand. Suddenly he was once again that small, vulnerable creature with open, aching wounds fresh from trusting, painting a picture with blood on a paintbrush, a portrait of the new him, the new creature who didn’t trust but did know how to punish others.
The heat boiled up from under his skin and through his hands, the same way he’d punished Edgar all those years ago, the only way he knew how to get out of a hand to save himself.
***
Too angsty didn't read summary:
This chapter describes Moon's origin. He is from a species that swaps out their babies with other species', like a traditional fae changeling, and Moon was raised by borrowers. He figured out that he was not a borrower when he was old enough and set off on his own. He befriended a human, but he was betrayed and sold to a showman named Edgar who kept him in a cage. After every show, Edgar would let patrons hold Moon, which he hated. When he tried to struggle, Edgar drugged him and used a metal manacle, which cut off blood flow to his foot and caused a chronic injury that damaged his leg, hence why he walks with a cane. Moon escaped by mastering a spell that let him cause an explosion. He decided not to trust anyone ever again, and took advantage of lots of different creatures, stealing their magic through seduction. Eventually, he found Thistle and decided to make Thistle his next target, but he ended up gradually falling in love with Thistle for real instead. When Marcy grabbed him, it triggered all his bad memories about being forcibly handled and he unleashed the explosion spell he'd once used on Edgar against Marcy.
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omg I love your betta Glen design! As someone who loves bettas and has owned a few, im always very intrigued by people's betta-inspired mermay art. One idea i thought you might enjoy as a possible hurt/comfort scenario is the matter of fin length. Longer finned bettas tend to have less energy and be more sedate simply because the fins are too huge and heavy to carry. (Example, one of my betta's fins grew so huge he started trying to bite them off. From then on I switched exclusively to shorter finned bettas, which are healthier and more energetic.) Anyway, I just figured its an underutilized scenario of Glen having to adjust to the physical exhaustion that comes with such a form, and maybe Aedes cups him in his hand to give him a bit of relief. Idk, either way I love your art!
i was already planning on putting jewelry on him but ur extra info made it even TASTIER angst anon!! thank u <3
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this year's mermay the boys are a betta + eel
somewhat branching off last year's mermay comics
aedes belongs to @entomolog-t
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