Vicky still felt dreadful for it. Chrys had agreed, yes, but it was written all over her chitin and in the way her antennae twitched—she was uncomfortable with the idea of her secrets being pulled out into the open. And on top of that, Vicky still carried Edward’s request like a stone in her pocket. Somehow she was supposed to convince Chrys to use that gene-thingy chamber. She hadn’t the faintest idea how. The thought of even bringing it up now made her stomach knot.

They were guided deeper into the strange facility until the halls opened up into a lounge unlike anything Vicky had seen. Everything gleamed, all clean lines and sleek shapes, couches and chairs molded from materials she couldn’t name. The light hummed softly in strips along the walls, a sterile kind of brightness that only made the place feel more alien.

“Take a seat anywhere facing this wall,” Edward’s voice directed, and a line of lights along one panel flashed to confirm it.

Chrysanthemum looked around once, then simply lowered herself onto the floor with a faint thud, her abdomen too large and unwieldy for the narrow seating. The sound of her plates scraping against the floor made Vicky’s heart pinch—Chrys never quite fit anywhere that wasn’t of her own making.

Mera quickly grabbed an armful of pillows from one of the couches and arranged them without ceremony. Then she plopped down between Chrysanthemum’s legs, leaning back as though she’d just found the most natural spot in the world. Jakira and Vicky claimed the sides, all three of them pressing close, resting against the warmth and solidity of the swarm queen.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Vicky asked, tilting her head up to meet Chrysanthemum’s multifaceted eyes.

Chrys chittered softly, antennae flicking as though weighing the air. “Is… is for the best. The girlfriends should know. Why this one’s duty… so important.”

Before Vicky could respond, the panel in front of them came alive. A seamless section of wall flared to life like a window into another time.

A woman appeared. Human. Pale-skinned, freckles across her cheeks like spilled pigment, her red bobbed hair cut with tidy precision. Round glasses perched on her nose. She wore a long black trench coat with a wool-lined collar, and beneath it, a sleek suit that hugged her figure without apology. Some strange ship captain, or maybe like she was walking straight out of Gloriana’s northern quarter on a winter’s evening.

She spoke, her voice spilling out sharp, brisk, confident—though none of them could understand the words. It was a language that rolled and snapped in unfamiliar rhythms, strange yet oddly compelling.

“Ah, sorry about that,” Edward’s voice cut in, apologetic but steady. “Give me a moment to edit the video.”

The four of them sat in silence while the projection hung frozen. Vicky shifted uneasily against Chrys, feeling the swarm queen’s breath rise and fall beneath her.

Finally, the voice came back. “There we go. Now playing the four hundred and sixty-eighth journal of Alesha Retania.”

The image lurched back into motion.

“Right, so, new planet,” the woman—Alesha—said with a tired sort of enthusiasm, like someone forcing herself to record despite exhaustion. “Would have been an exciting discovery, since it has life on it, but unfortunately… not as undiscovered as I thought. Turns out some mega-corp dumped a failed experiment here, trying to hide what they did. Bad enough on its own. Worse? This planet already has people on it. Pre-FTL. I shouldn’t call them primitives—it’s degrading—but… that’s what most in GalReach would say.”

She rubbed her temple, the glasses sliding slightly down her nose, then pushed them back up.

“That’s one thing. Another—and what I’d probably be focusing on, if not for the experiment waste—is that every humanoid on this planet is human. Not just human-adjacent. Human. Except… altered. Gene-tweaked. Whole subspecies. Dwarves, orcs, elves, dragonkin, mermaids even. Like something out of a dozen mythologies all at once. And somehow it all works. This place… it has a field that enables magic. Real magic. Not theoretical, not metaphorical. You can see it in use.”

She gave a short laugh, more disbelieving than amused. “I keep getting off-track. Hard not to, when you stumble on a civilisation that somehow mirrors Earth’s old cultures. Everything from Persians, to Romans, to medieval Europe. Impossible. Or at least it should be. Crazy shit. Already said that.” She shook her head, a stray lock of red hair bouncing into her eyes.

“Okay. Focus. I need to record everything I can and report back to GalReach. I only worry… the spread of that experiment dump will reach the civilisations before bureaucracy decides to care. And they hate dealing with pre-FTL species. Hate it. But these are human. That might sway them. Might.”

She sighed, the weight of it heavy even through the recording. “Fuck knows the council moves slow.”

The projection dimmed slightly as Alesha paused her recording, frozen mid-gesture.

The lounge was quiet except for the faint hum of machinery. Vicky felt Chrys’s claws flex against the floor beneath them.

“Now playing four-seven-seven,” said Edward. His voice was unusually subdued.

The projection flickered, then stabilized. The woman appeared again, but she was no longer the composed, sharp figure from the earlier recording. She paced back and forth across a cabin Vicky didn’t recognize — walls lined with sleek panels and blinking interfaces, a low bed shoved into one corner. Her coat hung open now, the crisp suit beneath wrinkled, her hair falling from its careful bob into stray strands. She looked tired and angry and dangerous all at once.

“Fuckers!” she snapped, voice cracking. “They said they’d look into it in seven or eight years! Years!” She raked both hands through her hair, leaving it standing out in coppery tufts. “The planet has half that left — charitably up to six — but I doubt it. That failed experiment? It fuses people and machines. Turns them into…” She stopped pacing, throwing her hands wide, as though searching for the right words. “Cyborg zombies, for lack of anything better. Flesh into steel. Minds shredded. Then they spread it to everyone they touch.”

She spun back toward the camera, eyes blazing behind her glasses. “In the past three months I’ve seen, from orbit, over three thousand people near the dump site get converted. Three thousand. With how fast these things can move, the world will be unrecoverable in three years. Max.”

Her pacing resumed, sharper now. She lashed out with one boot and sent a metal bin in the corner skidding across the cabin with a crash. “FUCK!”

The feed cut abruptly.

Vicky felt her stomach clench. She had no frame of reference for Alesha’s world, this place of starships and megacorps and pre-FTL protections, but she knew the tone in that woman’s voice. She’d seen sovereigns act like that, too. Pretend to be shocked, claim they’d investigate — and then bury a crisis under procedure until it burned itself out. It had happened with plagues, with famines. The powerful walked away. The people died. And here was some kingdom beyond the stars doing the same thing, abandoning their mess on her world.

Edward’s voice came again, softer. “Playing four-seven-nine.”

The projection reappeared. The same woman — but even worse. She was sitting this time, hunched forward on the edge of her bed. Dark rings hung under her eyes like bruises. Her red hair had collapsed entirely into a tangled mess. She’d lost the coat, just a shirt now with sleeves pushed up past her elbows. Her voice was low, scratchy.

“I’ve decided I’m going to do something about this,” she said, more to herself than the recorder. “My ship’s state of the art. I can get anything done with it, if I’m willing to risk it. I’ve been studying the field surrounding this world — the one that enables magic. People down there can throw fireballs and shit, but that won’t stop cyborg zombies. The rot just spreads unless the whole thing is disintegrated. Honestly it might be nanomachines. Thank fuck this isn’t a paperclip scenario or the planet would be gone already. Weeks instead of years.” She gave a humorless laugh. “Now I’m remembering the Canis incident.”

She exhaled long and slow, her shoulders sagging.

“I must insist you sleep, Miss Retania,” came Edward’s voice faintly from the background of the recording — polite, worried.

“Soon, Ed,” she murmured without looking up. “I’ll just finish this entry.”

“Of course,” said the AI, tone like a sigh.

Alesha rubbed her face, then squared her shoulders a little. “So. There is a faction of insectoid people. They aren’t humanoid, but they’re intelligent. Reasonably friendly, from what I’ve seen. They don’t attack humans. They don’t even come close. And… they seem highly resistant to the zombie infection. Might be able to rally them, hold off the—” she snorted, caught herself, and grinned weakly at the recorder. “Screw it. I’m calling them zomborgies. Haaaaaa.” She let the laugh run out and shook her head.

“They don’t speak human languages though. Can’t. So I’m going to use the gene therapy chamber to give myself some temporary alterations. After that… gonna see if spatial magic is a thing. Don’t have any orbital lasers or anything, so if I’m going to do work it’ll have to be down there. Wish me luck, me.”

She leaned closer, reached out to shut off the recorder — and the image froze with her tired, grim smile hovering on the edge of the wall.

The lounge went utterly silent. The only sound was the faint hum of the projector. Vicky realized she was digging her nails into her own palms. Jakira’s jaw was clenched tight. Mera’s breath had gone thin.

And Chrys, between them all, didn’t move at all.

“Playing five-zero-zero,” said Edward.

The projection flickered, and when the image resolved, Vicky’s breath caught. The woman who appeared wasn’t just tired anymore — she was changing. Her once-bright hair had thinned into patchy clumps, exposing the pale scalp beneath. What skin she still had looked sickly, mottled with a faint green tone that reminded Vicky of rot or lichen. Her eyes were bloodshot but burning with manic focus.

“So,” Alesha rasped, “I look kinda fucked. Would be worried I had some sort of super-cancer if Ed wasn’t so damn smart.” Her lips twisted into something like a smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Next run of changes I’m gonna look weirder. But hey, can always work my way back to my charming self. Edward would make a joke about that if he wasn’t terrified with what I’m doing to myself.”

She rubbed at her face with shaking hands, then let them drop heavily into her lap. “Is this the right course of action? I don’t fucking know. Maybe. A few more sessions and I’ll have the equipment to speak with the swarm. Going to have to edit my brain too, which is, quite frankly, a fucking terrifying idea. But I need to be able to understand them. So I can rally them.”

Her gaze darted off-camera, lips moving as though she were tallying something only she could see. “Don’t want to do it for free either. Need to think of something to pay them with. They don’t live in a hyper-capitalist hellstate, so some food is probably a good idea. Maybe I can invent some super-nutrient-rich thing? They don’t seem to care about taste, just nutrients. Needs to be something they can make themselves with the right ingredients… or maybe I can invent those too.” Her mouth twitched into a grim little smirk. “Yeah.”

She inhaled sharply, eyes flashing. “Okay. Plan. More changes. Invent food and ingredients. Rally the giant terrifying insects. Use magic to obliterate the zomborgies.” She let out a humorless laugh. “Dumb fucking name.”

The feed cut out mid-breath.

Vicky realized she’d been gripping the edge of the seating so hard her claws had left small gouges in the material. Her stomach churned. This wasn’t just some scientist cataloguing an alien world — this was a woman willingly unraveling herself, tearing down her body and mind piece by piece because no one else would lift a finger.

The kingdom Alesha had reported to didn’t care. So she had shouldered everything herself.

Vicky’s eyes flicked sideways to Chrysanthemum — this towering, chitin-clad queen who had once been that woman. The faint clicking of Chrys’s mandibles and the subtle twitch of her antennae were the only signs of her reaction. Mera had gone still between her legs, her brow furrowed deeply. Jakira’s hand brushed against Vicky’s, grounding but trembling faintly.

For the first time since the recordings began, Vicky felt a shiver of genuine fear. Not of Chrys, but of the kind of person Alesha must have been to choose this path. What did it cost you to become her?

“Playing Five-Zero-Two.”

Alesha was almost unrecognisable. She was thinner and taller, her skin the same mottled green as Chrysanthemum’s chitin. Her hair was gone entirely, replaced with thick, corded filaments of living armor that writhed and twitched as if they had a will of their own. Her fingers ended in curved claws, and the faint bulges of two additional arms were visible pushing outward beneath the skin of her torso.

Her words came in jolts, stuttering and fractured. “Ssss-so I-I look diff-diff-diff—FUUCK!” She threw her upper arms up in frustration, the cords around her head twitching violently. “Changed. Still have my mind, but ssss-sssometimes it’s hard to think-think-think clearly.” A dry, alien chitter rasped from her throat before she forced it down with visible effort.

“Ha. Sometimes that-that-that happens. It’ll be f-f-f-fine. Yeah.” She tried to smile, but her mandible ridges twitched instead. “Made progress on-on-on-nnnn the magic shit. Used dr-dr-drones to scrape up every record on arcane theory I could. No-no-no one knows about sp-spatial magic. Gonna look-look into it. The pools those zomborgies l-l-leave behind—they trap shit. Sp-spawn more. Replication. Contamination. Expansion. Fuck.

“M-maybe I can-can-can-can make black holes and shit. If sp-spatial magic is real-real. Collapse the ground out from under them. Crush the pools-pools before they spread.” She pressed her clawed hands against her temples, muttering to herself. “Control mass, bend void, eat their plague-plague with something bigger than them. Ha. Ha.”

Her voice cracked into a hiss. “Going land the B-B-Blackhole Bli-Bli-Blitz.” Her cords writhed as if the name itself set them quivering. “Found a s-s-ssssuper cavern. Freakishly huge-huge. Big enough to hide-hide-hide a ship, build outpost, research, factory. Good for a b-b-base of op-opera-op-operations.”

Her eyes flicked side to side like an insect’s compound lenses, her chittering increasing. “Yeah. Magic. Zomborgies. Base. Planssssssss.”

The sound devolved into a piercing trill, sharp enough that the recorder fuzzed with static. She slammed her claws against the console to stop it, and the feed cut abruptly.

“Playing Five-Zero-Three.”

There was no trace of Alesha Retania in the recording now—at least, not the woman who had begun these logs. The figure on-screen was taller, nearly seven feet, her frame long and alien. The second pair of arms had grown in fully, their movements sharp and insectile, and she wasn’t wearing clothes anymore. Four eyes blinked independently—two where a human’s would be, and two smaller ones set below them, glinting with a dim, greenish glow. Her crotch was smooth chitin, but as with her royal girlfriend, her breasts remained as the only patches of flesh left—stubborn islands of humanity on an otherwise fully transformed body.

Her voice was warped, like a chorus of two people—one human, one insect. “This one has not done an entry in many times. Is forgetting. The spirit… Edward, helps this one… me remember things. I fear I am losing this ones mind.” Her mandibles flexed faintly as she spoke. “But not all has the bad. Made contact with insectoids. Many wish to help. They do not want world to end. Invented a few different mushrooms—hyper nutritious, mixed with a jelly that some insectoids can make. Tastes like shit, but good for a march. Haaaa.”

She stood, towering, and turned to reveal a segmented abdomen extending from her lower back, glossy and faintly pulsing with hidden organs. “Look what this one got. I mean I got. Don’t even know why. Pretty sure I now have a second heart. I’m nearly seven feet tall too. Can’t be called short any more. Haaaaa.” Her laughter was brittle, strange, clicking at the edges.

“In other news,” she continued, mandibles twitching against her lips, “This one can now do the magicks. Can open tears in reality, somehow. This one thinks that’s fucking cool. Still working up to blackholes but this one is certain it can happen. Same time my junk seems to be located at the end of this ones abdomen.” She glanced back at it, one clawed hand awkwardly gesturing. “Still got human urges. Ugh, fuck this is the awkwards. Still got this ones tits though. Had to make difficult changes. Even if this one goes full bug, I went through too much dysphoria to go without. Fuck, this one knows many peoples would be into it.”

Her eyes flickered in an unfocused pattern, voice softening and splintering. “Next is developing the magicks. Maybe look into the mind altering thingses. Feel myself slipping and slippin and slipping away…” Her clicking voice devolved into a chitter that rose in pitch, like the sound of a swarm on the move.

Then, without warning, the feed cut to black.

Vicky’s stomach turned. Her hands trembled as she stared at the blank screen. Alesha wasn’t just sacrificing her humanity—she was disassembling herself to save the world.

“Playing Five-Zero-Four.”

The screen flickered to life, static hissing before an image resolved. The being on screen was monstrous now, the last tethers to humanity hanging by threads. Her chitin gleamed in oily green hues, claws flexing as if in agitation. The abdomen behind her shifted restlessly, segments twitching. Her four eyes darted, unfocused, one pair blinking out of sync while a new pair of antennae twitch on her herohead.

The voice that came wasn’t human. It was layered, half-chitter, half-warped words.

“Thisss one—no, I—ssss, ssss, ss—we speak. M-m-memory sl-slipping, cl-clawing back, Ed-Edwa—ed-spirit keeepsss whole. Yessss.”

She pressed a claw against her temple hard enough to leave a gouge in the chitin, ichor welling up. A breathless trill escaped her throat.

“Swarm-sisters heard. Listened. C-c-called me—called this-one—royal-not-royal. Yesss. They follow. They march. Mushrooms feed. Jellies bind. Swarm growsssss. March-march-march.”

She twitched violently, the upper set of arms wrapping around her torso, the lower pair clawing at the air as if fending off something invisible.

“Magicks bend. Tearsss in sky. Holes-into-nothing. Rot creatures fall inside—screeeam. Beautiful. Beautiful-beautiful. This one laughed. Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Her head snapped to the side as though listening to a distant whisper. A hiss followed, low and droning.

“But brainsss… slippery. Thissss one thinksss insect. Thinksss in scent. In taste. Ssssmellsss fear, tastezzz hunger. Thoughtsss not words. Only buzzing. Only Buzzzzz.” Her mandibles flexed open, spilling out a staccato click-click-click.

She staggered closer to the recorder, lowering her face until her four eyes filled the frame. They burned with alien intensity, pupils thin slits swimming in green.

“This-one losssing name. ‘A—lesh—shhhaaa’ drips from tongue like rot. Not fits. Not belongs. Soon will be gone. Repla—pla—placed with Queen-no-name. Chrysanthemum. Best flower. Is this ones name now. Yes.”

Her breath rasped, abdomen rising and falling. She trilled once more, then snapped her claws together with a crack like breaking bones.

“Thisss one… must save world. Must. Duty-duty-duty. Sssave them, stop the rot, stop the end. Yesss. It mattersss. It mattersss. But… but why?” Her voice faltered, eyes narrowing as if trying to dig the answer out of her own mind.

A shudder passed through her, mandibles flexing.

“Forgotten. Reason gone. But duty remainsss. Alwayssss duty. This-one cannot stop. This-one cannot… forget task. Even if name, even if self, all fades… the saving must continue. Must. Must. Must.”

She lurched closer to the recorder, her four eyes wide, fever-bright.

“World must be saved. World must. Even if this-one not remember why.”

The feed cut in a flare of static.

Vicky bolted from the lounge, her stomach twisting violently. She made it to the kitchen just in time, retching into the sink. Her claws dug into the counter as bile and disbelief burned her throat. Why? Why would Alesha do this to herself?

She sacrificed everything. Her body, her mind, her very identity—all for a world that wasn’t even hers. Her intellect, her humanity, her safety… gone, willingly, for the sake of strangers who would never know.

Vicky’s chest tightened as the thought hit her again. She was a hero of the highest order, and no one—not the kingdoms, not the queendoms, not even those who lived among the stars—would ever see or understand what she had given up to save them.

Except for the three of them. Vicky, Mera, and Jakira.

Mera appeared quietly in the doorway, eyes soft and concerned. She approached slowly, placing her hands on Vicky’s back, stroking gently. “Are you okay?” she asked, voice low and soothing.

Vicky tried to nod, but the tightness in her chest wouldn’t allow it. She hesitated, swallowed hard, then shook her head.

“She sacrificed everything for us. Everything. And no one knows,” Vicky whispered, her voice trembling.

Mera’s thumb traced a line along her spine, grounding her. “I know,” she said softly. “I can barely wrap my head around it myself.”

Vicky let out a bitter laugh, voice low and sharp. “The topside kingdoms and queendoms—they take her for granted.”

“They do,” Mera agreed, her tone quiet but heavy. “They really do.”

Vicky swallowed, letting the words sink in. The fire of indignation and grief churned in her chest. They couldn’t see what she had given, what she had become. But they knew. And for now, that had to be enough.

“Edward.”

“Yes, Vicky?” His voice carried that soft, almost hesitant hum she had come to recognize—like he was holding himself together in quiet anticipation.

“I’ll try,” she said, her claws tightening slightly on the edge of the counter. Her voice was steady, but inside, her chest felt like it was being squeezed. “I’ll try to get her back. If not in body… then in mind. I’ll make sure she remembers who she is, who she was… and what she meant to all of us.”

There was a pause. Then Edward’s voice, usually precise and careful, broke just slightly. “Thank you, Victoria. It… it means everything to me.”

Vicky gave a small, tight nod, refusing to let the sting behind her eyes show. “She’s strong,” she said softly. “Stronger than anyone realizes. And we’ve got her. Somehow, we’ll get her home.”

A quiet hum filled the kitchen, the faint mechanical vibration of the ship echoing around them. Edward’s tone softened further, almost like a whisper: “I… hope you understand how much this matters—to her, and to me. What you’re willing to do… it honors her in ways I cannot describe.”

Vicky exhaled, letting the weight of his words settle. “I do. And I’ll carry it, Edward. Every step.”

“There’s one more. Could you go back? I need to show it to you," said the AI softly.

Vicky nodded, squeezing Mera’s hand briefly. Together, they made their way back, the air thick with tension. Chrys and Jakira looked up the moment they entered, worry etched across their faces.

“Sorry,” Vicky said, forcing a tired smile, her voice quiet. “I… was feeling a bit sick.” Her claws flexed at her sides as she sank down onto the floor beside Chrys, careful to keep her tone light.

“Is the repulsive cute one okay now? This one worries,” Chrysanthemum said, her antennae twitching slightly as she leaned forward, eyes full of concern.

Vicky settled back against the warm chitin of Chrys’ abdomen, letting the queen’s comforting bulk ground her. Mera slid back between Chrys’ legs, arranging pillows around herself, offering the same soft, supportive presence as before.

“I’ll be fine,” Vicky said finally, letting a hint of softness come through in her voice. She leaned closer to Chrys, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. “I love you.”

Chrysanthemum froze, her many eyes blinking rapidly, then her body trembled with a shiver that ran through every segment of her. A soft chittering sound escaped her throat as her mandibles quivered.

“This one is joy,” she whispered, her voice almost breaking. “Very much does the love you too. All of you.”

Vicky felt her chest tighten, warmth pooling through her despite the lingering nausea. She curled closer, resting her head lightly against Chrys’ abdomen. Mera’s hand found hers, fingers intertwining. Jakira leaned slightly forward, brushing a gentle hand across Chrys’ back.

“Okay… playing log five-zero-five,” Edward said softly.

The wall brightened again, and Alesha appeared—except there was no Alesha anymore. The figure on the screen was the mirror image of the queen sitting just beside Vicky, her chitin gleaming the same deep green, her four eyes the same alien black. Only a single shred of humanity lingered in her expression, like a faint echo of the woman she had once been.

“This one sees no point in talking to the wall, spirit,” Chrysanthemum hissed in the recording, her mandibles clicking with irritation.

“Could you please trust me?” Edward’s voice was softer in the log than it was now, full of a tired but pleading patience. “It’s needed for the future. It will record what you say. Just… talk about yourself. That’s all I want.”

Chrysanthemum in the log tilted her head back, antennae twitching in frustration, and a low chitter rattled from her throat.

“Please?” Edward said again, his voice cracking faintly in the old audio. “Have I not served you well for decades?”

“Fine. This one will relent.” The insectoid queen turned her head back to the camera, her eyes staring directly into it with a cold, unblinking intensity. It made Vicky’s stomach knot to see.

“This one is Swarm Queen Chrysanthemum,” she began, her voice proud but hollow. “This one is defender of world. Fight rot creatures, much succeeding at duty. Rot creatures stop spread. Push back more every winter. This one is magnificent. This one is unstoppable. Crushy orbs destroy spawn-pools. Less rot creatures. Swarm stronger than ever. Millions revere this one.”

She cocked her head, mandibles twitching like she was already losing interest. “Is this one done doing the talkings to wall?”

There was a pause. The Edward in the recording exhaled slowly. “I suppose… unless…” His tone lowered, almost hesitant. “Do you remember anything of your past? Anything at all? It’s been two centuries since your last log.”

Chrysanthemum’s mandibles flared. She looked past the camera like the question didn’t even register. “This one… does not know. Not important! Only importanting is the duty!” she declared, voice rising with a strange, zealous confidence.

“I see.” Edward’s voice went quiet, as though he was bracing himself against something sharp. “Well. That’s enough, I suppose. I won’t make you do this again.”

“Yess yesss, good!” Chrysanthemum’s eyes glittered, her body shifting with restless energy. “More important things to do than the wall talkings. This one has queendom to rule! Rot creatures to find! Yess yess!”

The recording cut out with a flicker of static.

In the lounge, Vicky felt Chrys shift faintly under her, the living warmth of the queen a stark contrast to the cold, alien voice in the log. Her chest ached, as if she’d just watched someone’s soul fade on-screen.

SupernovaSymphony

This might have been my favourite chapter to write ;3

Patreon Link if you want to read ahead (30 ahead for MoM. 3-5 ahead for other stories)

Also, discord if you wanna join

My Catalogue:

Mother of Midnight (Monster Reincarnation)
Metamoophosis (Urban Fantasy Transformation)
GlitterHex (MOTH BIMBO)
The Magnificent Miss Momentum (Superhero Comedy)
Swarm Queen just wants to find love! (Fantasy RomCom)
In this Void, We Make Home (HFY one shot I did a while ago)
Field Of Lillies (Lesbian Romance Fantasy)