#A mother shouldn't have to bury her own child

[seleneprince]

The MC from my yandere!batfam au

Name: Lucia Wayne-Perez

(This got too long, ops. And there's more coming)

-Her mother was a whore, living in a pretty shitty neighborhood and working for equally shitty people. She got pregnant after a one-night stand with Bruce Wayne. She was told to abort the baby, since not only it would be a burden to her job, but she wouldn't been able to give her a good life.

-However, she refused everytime. She briefly considered using the baby to get a hold of the Wayne's fortune, but as time passed, she decided to keep her precious babygirl to herself instead. The rich society wouldn't ever accept them anyway, and if they gave a shit, it'll be only to take Lucia away from her for being a Wayne.

-For the first time in her life, the woman had something worth living for. Something that was entirely hers, her own creation. And she refused to let anyone take it from her.

-Unfortunately, love itself isn't enough to raise a child, as she soon found out. With a new mouth to feed, she had to work more and leave little Lucia with other people more often than not. When she became old enough, her mother chose to leave her alone at home instead, drilling in her mind to never, ever, open the door to anyone that wasn't her.

-It made her feel better knowing her babygirl was waiting for her at their home, rather that in someone else's hands.

-Lucia's happiest memories from childhood are the time she spent with her mother when she wasn't working, doing things together at home. They cooked together, watched tv snuggled at the couch, chased each other all around their little apartment between laughs.

-From outside, it wasn't a safe or healthy life for a kid. But Lucia was loved, and she was happy even when they struggled. Her mother was her everything.

-Then her little brother was born, her mother once again deciding to keep the baby against all advice, and Lucia learnt to take care not only of herself, but now of another human being as well.

-It was fine, because she adored her little brother. She wasn't alone anymore when Mommy went out to work. She had her brother to play with.

-She was homeschooled, definitely. Her mother was smarter than people gave her credit for, so she had no problem teaching them what they needed. Plus, it gave for sweet family bonding time.

-The people her mother worked for were dangerous, ruling over the town with iron fists and fear. The woman had a somewhat privileged position compared to her co-workers, but it didn't mean she was safe.

-And she found out the worst way.

-You see, Lucia's mother earned her privileges with her charm and silver tongue, not only for her "work ethic". This allowed her to get a hold on certain secrets, information she shouldn't have had. The kind of secrets that, if she shared them with anyone, they would've mean serious trouble for her superiors.

-It didn't sit right with them, of course, so they decided to eliminate the risk permanently.

-One day, a man showed up to their apartment's door, banging it loudly and yelling. Her mother grabbed Lucia and her brother in a hurry, shoved them in a closet and locked it, telling them to not make a sound until she returned.

-Through the gaps of the closet, Lucia could only see the shadows of her mother and the stranger, and heard the screams. She cried, burying her face in her brother's head to muffle the sounds, covering his mouth with her hand to do the same for him.

-At last, she heard gunshots. Several. She saw traces of blood splashed on the wall, and then silence followed. Eery, terrible silence.

-There were voices of adults talking, all men. She could heard them walk through the apartment, and she closed her eyes tightly, begging silently that they left soon so Mom could return and comfort them.

-But Mom didn't return. Instead, heavy footsteps approached them, and the closer was opened slowly.

-A man stood in front of them. Big, scary looking, and with his clothes stained in red.

-He didn't say anything, didn't move, just stared at them. Lucia held his gaze with her teary eyes, her brother holding unto her.

-"Oi, you found anything?!"

-"Nah, there's nothing in here!"

-And he locked the closet again.

-The police arrived much later, ripping the closet open apart, as if they knew they were there. They were led out of the apartment, passing the living room, where there was blood everywhere...and Mommy's corpse laying there, with a giant pool of red underneath.

-Lucia shielded her brother's eyes, but no one did it for her. She just looked at her mother, unblinking, frozen in the spot. She couldn't hear anything or anyone besides her own heart and an intense ringing in her ears.

-She had to be dragged away from the scene.

-Commissary Gordon received them on the street, after they were covered in blankets and briefly interrogated. He was the nicest of the bunch, even when Lucia remained unresponsive. He didn't ask questions, leading them to his car with a gentle hand and taking them to the police station, where they soon figured out they had no relatives to care for them.

-Gordon himself took them to the orphanage, reminiscing of a certain event several years ago when he saw another child with the same haunted look in his eyes, right after losing his parents too.

-It was only after her brother fell asleep that Lucia finally broke down.

-In the orphanage, things weren't much better. Gotham doesn't care about orphans unless they're rich. The clothes weren't the best quality, the food wasn't always warm, and sometimes the punishments for misbehaving were a bit too harsh.

-Lucia found out she hates small, closed spaces. She was thrown in one as punishment for causing trouble and got such a panic attack she fainted there.

-However, she grew to like it there despite all. She played with other kids, her brother had other people to take care of him, and she was free. She cried every night for her Mom, but the rest of the day wasn't so bad.

-Until blood tests came. Lucia knew she and her brother came from different fathers, but she had no idea who they were. Afraid that they would be separated, Lucia went out of her way to avoid getting blood tests. Hiding when there was an appointment, pretending to be sick or injured. Anything.

-It worked for a year, surprisingly. Because again, no one cares about orphans.

-But then, one of the orphanage's rich sponsors dropped for a visit, to check their donations were used properly. That person happened to have known Martha Wayne from youth...and pointed out the strong resemblance little Lucia held with the woman.

-She couldn't evade the blood test this time. The results confirmed the suspicions: She was Bruce Wayne's daughter, and meant to go live with him.

-Everyone filled her ears with praises about Bruce, about how lucky she was, how great of a father he obviously is. That everything will be better from now on. And he'll definitely let her visit her brother as much as she wishes, maybe adopting him too.

-For the first time since her mother's death, Lucia felt hopeful. As she was dropped at the Wayne manor, being welcomed by the kind butler named Alfred, she believed great things awaited her.

-It wasn't the case.

-Her father doesn't seem happy to see her, barely concealing his indifference with a quick apology over the loss of her mother (which happened a year ago by then so what's the point?). He's distant and doesn't show interest in her, handling her over to Alfred while he goes on about his day. Alfred apologized on Bruce's behalf, holding her by the hand and leading her through the manor, helping her get established in her new room.

-Lucia might've been young, but she wasn't blind, and the circumstances she was raised in only made her more observant than most children. She knew she wasn't wanted there, that she was an unpleasant surprise for her father. Which, okay, it hurt a bit a lot but she could handle it. She only had to wait for him to get used to her presence and work hard to earn his love.

-She meets Dick Grayson next, her older brother, according to Alfred. Lucia is hopeful once again. Maybe if her father doesn't like her very much, at least she can get along with her big brother.

-Wrong again. Dick shows pity for her situation and ruffles her hair as a greeting, talking to her in a friendly manner, but Lucia can see he's disconnected from it. He leaves as soon as he can.

-The others aren't any better, making her feel more and more dissapointed by each meeting. Tim brushes her off before they can even talk, acting as if she didn't exist. Jason is scary as fuck, being so big and grumpy (it reminds her of the man that opened the closet). Cassandra and Barbara are polite enough, greeting her when they see each other around the manor, but that's all. Stephanie seems genuinely interested at first, sitting down with her and asking questions, only to ignore her completely after some weeks.

-Turns out she was just bored and Lucia was something "new" to distract herself.

-It becomes clear that she wasn't wanted there. She was an inconvenience, someone that was forced upon them without asking for it, especially for her father.

-The whole family disregard her, and she feels how she disturbs their mood when she enters the room. How their conversations grew quieter in her presence, letting clear she wasn't part of the group.

-They hang out a lot, but never made an effort to include her unless Alfred suggested them to. Lucia couldn't stand how uncomfortable they obviously were with her there, so she was the one to tell Alfred it wasn't necessary.

-Lucia thought she only had to try harder. She noticed how all the family were so talented. She had to keep up. Prove herself to them.

-She took gymnastics classes, judo, programming, painting, everything she could try. She read books Jason liked, studied hard to get good grades. Everything she could think of to impress them and have their approval.

-Nothing worked. In fact, they only seemed more annoyed when she tried to get their attention.

-Acting rebellious was out of the question, thanks to Alfred. He taught her etiquette and how to behave in social settings now she was a Wayne. That her actions could affect the Wayne's reputation. Besides, she respected the man too much to dissapoint him like that.

-The last straw was when Damian showed up, her other half-blood brother. She expected him to be received with the same coldness and indifference, and thought that she could bond with him. She already had a younger brother she loved, having another one would be great.

-Only to feel her heart break for the umpteenth time when he was treated with such kindness and warmness, despite him acting like an asshole all the time. She spent years running herself ragged to earn a spot in the family, to get just a tiny bit of their affection, all for nothing. And he gets it all and more without even trying. Why? What's the fucking difference? What does he have that she doesn't?

-Still, she tries to reach out to him anyway, just like with everyone. He's still her brother, after all. Her actual brother, not like the others. They have the same blood, surely that means something.

-She gets her answer when he sneaks into her room one night and tries to kill her, leaving a long scar across her neck.

-Damian gets a slap on the wrist and Lucia has to hear how he had such a rough upbringing, how he doesn't know better, that it wouldn't happen again. Please, forgive him.

-And that's exactly when she gives up. She realizes she'll never part of the family, not in a way that matters. She's nothing in that house. Her father doesn't want her, her supposed siblings treat her like shit. Well fuck them. She finally got the message. From now on, she'll stay out of everyone's way.

-She has her little brother and Alfred. She doesn't need anyone else. Alfred loves her enough to fill the gap of a father, and takes care of her with the utmost dedication, practically raising her as his own.

-With time, she decides this isn't so bad. At least she gets to live in a huge mansion with plenty of places to explore, and has a nice allowance. She can get used to this. Besides, with how often they're out of the manor, she's free to roam as much as she wants.

-Now, how she gets into her...slightly illegal hobby? Well, you see, that's the thing when you neglect a kid and ignore them all the time. They're left to their own devices without supervision. And they tend to wander into places they shouldn't be.

-Out of all the classes/activities she took, programming was her favourite, along with gimmnastics. She excelled at both, but there was something about technology that called to her. It was her preferred way to distract herself when loneliness hit too hard. She spent hours browsing through internet, playing with the settings, trying new things.

-She felt an addicting kind of satisfaction the first time she cracked a code, succesfully hacking someone's phone without them noticing. She realized she could to many, many things with this skill. And it was surprisingly entertaining. The thrill of it, the challenge it supposed to her. She found her passion.

-Soon enough, this hobby became her life. She went from phones to computers, from computers to security cameras. Not even electric vehicles were safe from her. If it had some sort of software, she could hack it.

-She began to build and develop her own arsenal. Programs, computers, tablets, drones. She modified her phone to be a weapon in her hands, capable of hacking and controlling anything remotely technologic with it. This gathers the interest of the wrong kind of crowd, pushing her into dangerous, very illegal bussiness.

-She uses the money she earns from it to provide for her little brother and save it for the future, in a separate account from Bruce. She intends to get them both out of Gotham at some point, and so her moral code gets more blurry as no one is there to tell her "Stop".

-Lucia grows up as an overachiever, unconsciously to fight her insecurities, and hyper-independent, believing fully she can only ever rely on herself.

-She's also naturally good at parkour, years of gimnastic classes serving her well to climb, jump and sneak into places gracefully. She spends a lot of time on rooftops to "work", since it's usually the best place.

-She also drives her own motorcycle, a gift from Alfred himself when she got her license. However, he'll have a heart attack if he saw how she tends to drive on it.

Part 2 definitely coming, 'cause I have more lore for this girl (she still has to meet Duke)

@nebulousmoon3990

[crossbowtrades]

Hey Viselle. Got any crushes you can speak about?

"Well, I've talked about my, er, escapade with a builder once. Or rather, lack of one, since I was too shy to approach. ... Though I'll be honest I wouldn't mind seeing him now."

"... Erm. "

" Mother...?"

" I know I didn't say anything world-changing, why are you so quiet?"

[lilia-calderus-pet-goat]

In case you forgot just how impressive the acting is in episode seven of agatha all along, let me take you back again.

Lilia is five hundred years old. Four hundred and fifty? Maybe. When we first meet her, she may be kooky, and she may be strange, and forgetful, but she doesn't immediately seem vulnerable, or lost. She's a grown woman, damn it—and a fraud, a liar. She's toughened with the passage of time in her unique isolation.

And in the next episodes, we see her sweeten here and there—and we see more vulnerable moments—but she still stands on her own two legs. In her dynamic with Rio, for example, or whoever else, she exhibits the 'no bullshit' attitude of her maestra. She's softer, of course, more empathetic, less cynical—like in Alice's trial, where she's posed much like s comforting grandma. But even then, she is a grandma. She is the one who does the comforting, or the one who disapprovingly shakes her head at you and judges your life choices.

But when she talks to her Maestra?

Lilia is a little girl. She's childish.

In no other scenario does Lilia speak with herself center-stage. She always thinks of others first, even in her own trial.

But when she talks to her maestra, she acts like a wounded child, a wounded fawn, who can only focus on her own pain. Who has not yet developed mechanisms for processing her emotions—and who just wants—needs—her mother. And she speaks, and she says things she shouldn't say, floods her maestra with her own grief, overwhelms her with information that Lilia has known as fact for hundreds of years, but for her maestra—it's her first time hearing it. Because the little Lilia on the chair is having her first divination lesson. She hasn't predicted the fever yet. But Lilia can't think of that right now—she's overwhelmed, she's hurting, she's visiting her maternal figure after centuries—and so she's snappy and impatient and vulnerable like a child.

And her maestra knows she can't help it. And she knows that right now, she's needed by her child who is hurting. Who has been hurting—so much fear, even now. She must swallow the shocking piece of information that she and her covenmates, her sisters, her students, her children, will be wiped out by a terrible fever—treat it like a given fact, because she's not the focus right now. Because she needs to be a guiding light for Lilia, even centuries later, because she needs her. Centuries later, she needs her. And she's a tough woman, a no-bullshit woman. She's a thick-skinned, old, Sicilian witch, much reminiscent of my own greek grandparents—those who have lived through so much and so nothing affects them, really. Because 'back in their day' they had 'more serious issues,' like war and famine and plague. This woman lived through the dark ages. And she delivers. She's nonchalant. 'Death comes for us all' - It means, this isn't about me. I have to brush it off.

But I still have to wonder where within her she proceeded to bury that piece of information about her own coven's untimely demise. Not only to focus on future Lilia, but also, later, to keep little Lilia calm and focused. To—knowing all the suffering she'll be going through and the state in which she'll visit centuries later—keep her innocent for just a little time longer. Give her time. Until eventually, she predicts the fever herself.

And how beautiful is it that, after all this time, she sought help in her maestra—?

How beautiful is it that—for the second time—Agatha Harkness is saved by a woman whose empathy was bred by a mother's unconditional love? A woman who sacrificed herself just when she found herself, for no other reason than the fact her mother never stopped putting her first, so now, it was her turn to do the the same for her family—?

[raineydays411]

My Fathers Daughter pt 10

A different perspective

Dick Grayson has always been used to being the first.

He was the first Robin, the first son, the first to be picked for almost anything.

Hell he was the first child as far as he knew. So imagine his surprise when he finds out his mother not only has a whole secret daughter, but one that she completely abandoned.

He could still hardly believe it.

He couldn't stop thinking about the night they found out about her. The look on Christine's face, it was one he's never seen before. The look of shock and almost disbelief, like she had seen a ghost.

In a way she did.

The ghost of the life she left behind with Tony and Y/n Stark. Now Christine was trying so desperately to revive it. As if she didn't murder it with her own hands. And while Dick himself had reservations with these actions, Christine was his mother before anything, and he was going to help her no matter what.

So here he was, standing outside the bedroom of his mothers long lost daughter, trying to figure out something to say. It shouldn't be too hard, seeing as Jason of all people managed to get you to open up.

And yet, here he is. Unable to muster up the courage to simply knock on the door.

"This is fucking ridiculous", Dick thinks to himself, "Just knock, what's the worst that can happen?"

Lost in his own thoughts, Dick didn't notice the shadow under the door, and was startled by the sudden swing of it opening and you standing there.

"I can hear your thinking over my music." You said a little annoyed," Is there something I can do for you or...?"

Dick blinked trying to gather all of his thoughts, he really didn't know what to say to you. This is the first time you've said more than three syllables to him.

You stared back, face revealing how uncomfortable you were getting with this prolonged eye contact.

"Riiiight, so im just gonna" You say taking steps to shut the door in his face

"Wait!" The raven haired man shouts, "Wait, please."

You stop with a sigh and open the door, inviting him in, " Alright, come on."

Dick walks in, looking around at the room that actually used to be his when he first moved in.

He mentions as much trying to break the awkward silence.

"Hm, and you were okay staying in a room that was copied from a dracula movie?" You say snarkily

"Well to be fair I was 12 and watched my parents die in front of me, I wasn't really looking at the decor." He says half joking.

You made a face and looked away, feeling even more awkward.

"Anyways, I just wanted to you know...see how you were settling in" Dick starts, " Its been a few months and it feels like we hardly even see you."

You pause, thinking of what to say. But before you even have a chance to say anything Dick continues.

"You know, moms really excited that you're here." He starts, " Honestly I don't think I've ever seen her this excited over anything. She's usually very level headed."

You stare at him

"I mean, you know how she is I suppose she is your mother too."

You stare

"I know she probably really missed you, she gets lonely sometimes you know? Everyone here usually has their own thing going on and we don't really get to see her as much."

Nothing from you

" Well, I guess she see's Damian more than any of us but that's because he's basically her baby."

Okay...that hurt

"I mean, I think he was the youngest when he came to use, I think he was like nine or something. And he was not the easiest to get along with. So don't worry that he hasn't warmed up to you yet."

You hum, already irritated with this conversation.

"He's also really protective of our mom, she's done alot to make sure their relationship is as good as it is." he says offhandedly, " Actually she's done it for all of us."

"Oh really?" You ask with no real intrest.

"Yeah! I remember one time when I was little she always made it a point to spend time with me even though she was so busy." He says fondly.

You decide to play along and remince on the memories that you buried long ago.

"You know, when I was younger, Christine used to take me out of school and take me to see ballet shows." You say with a slight smile, " I was in classes back then and loved watching the older girls dance."

Dick smiled, feeling as if he made some progress with you, " Really? I think she actually takes Cassie and Steph to those sometimes, you should ask to tag along I'm sure she'll love it."

You cringe, feeling another needle in your heart. Not even your memerioes were sacred.

"Yeah no thanks." You reply harshly, " I don't like ballet anymore."

Dick pauses, shocked at the sudden shift in atmosphere.

"I--"

And before he can say anything you cut him off, feigning a yawn

"Hey look, not that I don't love our little chats, but I am beat."

"Oh! right, sorry I guess it is getting a bit late.."Dick say hopping up from your bed and walking to the door, " Y/n, you know its really nice talking to you. You should try and open up more."

You smile sarcastically, " you know, something you and mother have in common is that you both like talking at me, not to me."

And with that you shut the door, promptly ending the conversation and sending Dick spiraling.

In fact, the statement bothered him so much that he went seeking a second opinion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Yeah... I don't know how to help you man."

"Oh come on! Jason, you and her are like...bosom buddies or something."

"Bosom buddies? How old are you?" Jason scoffs, " Look, what you and everyone here doesn't understand is that Y/n has a family waiting for her. She's not going to except mom as her mom because her mom is still alive and well."

"But...technically our mom is her mom." Dick says hesitantly, " And if I were her I'd be thrilled to have my mom back."

"Dick. Your mom didn't abandon you for a different family." Jason says annoyed he's not getting it, "What the hell is wrong with you, you're usually so level headed about this stuff?"

Dick pauses.

To be honest he doesn't know why he's being so hard headed about the whole situation.

He knows that he doesn't like seeing his mother sad, and lately seeing her face when you reject every move she maked to make amends is heartbreaking to him.

That was his mother. The woman who took him in as her own when his biological parents died.

The same woman that stayed by his side no matter how moody, rude, and bratty he first acted when he first arrived. She took his grief on as her own and basically put him back together along with Bruce. He can still remember the night he considered her his mother.

He had just started out as Robin, and had just got back from patrol. It was a rough night.

First, it was the middle of autumn and raining heavily, he and Bruce weren't getting along this particular night and he overall was just having a bad night. So needless to day he was a little rougher with the baddies he was fighting tonight.

Bruce had already reprimanded him throughout the night about his unnecessary force but Dick did not want to hear it. It got so bad that Dick was just going off own his own without Batmans orders, and thats where the trouble began.

Dick had jumped the gun again, throwing himself into a fight with some drug dealers , not realizing that there were one too many for a fourteen year old to handle by himself. They quickly overpowered him, and ganged up on the poor boy.

He was given quite the beating before Batman caught up to him and basically saved him.

In pain and with a bruised ego, he had to listen to yet another lecture from the irritated (actually extremely worried) dark knight, and one from Alfred who was also extremely worried while he cleaned up the child.

He has finally marched to his room in a huff and after he shut the door, was finally able to reveal in the fact that he almost died. He was lost in thought, finally feeling the fear and pain in every move he made as he tried to crawl under the covers when he heard a knock on the door.

In she came, with a tray of goodies she personally made,staying home from a business trip he had known she was going to go on. She crawled into the bed with him, held him to her chest and allowed him to cry.

"You may be a big brave superhero" She said to him, " But here in this home, you're my son. My baby, and you are allowed to cry if you need to. I won't judge you. I won't say a word."

And he did. He cried.

He cried because he was hurting. He cried because he was angry. Angry because he was beat up. Because he was lectured all night. Because he missed his parents.

But most of all, because he felt as if he was forgetting them. He was having such a good time at the Wayne manor, grew to love the Waynes as the parents they intended to be to him. He felt as if he was betraying his parents. The parents that had raised him up to that point.

And here he was, laying cuddled up to Christine the same way he would with his mother. But at this point the two of them are blurring together, to the point where he can't tell where his mother ends and Christine starts.

This woman, took him in and wrapped him in love.

Love that he thought he would never feel again after that tragic night.

A love that, he honestly cannot imagine never having.

It was something that he couldn't begin to repay her. He wouldn't know how. Where to start.

Rekindling his mother with the daughter she lost. Gave up.

That was the least he could do. He'd do it for her.

But, after the conversation he had with Jason, he went home and thought about it. Actually really thought about it.

The year he came into the Wayne's lives, Christine stopped going on her business trips.

Not all at once, but she would push them back.

Usually because Dick had needed her.

She pushed her trips back until eventually, she just stopped going.

She hadn't said much, just saying that she realized that she was needed at home more than they needed her over there. But even at that age, Dick noticed she was sad. She kept her composure around the family, but once Dick had seen her crying in a pantry deleting something off her phone.

He had thought it was weird but after a few months she was okay.

No crying, no sadness.

And... now that he thinks about it. While he was being wrapped up in love there was another child in New York, who's life was being completely unraveled. All because of him.

And maybe...the reason he was trying so hard to rekindle you and Christine wasn't really because of Christine.

But because since that night, the night you were revealed to be her daughter, he did the math. And he just wanted to give you back the mother he unknowingly stole away from you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Taglist:

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[tinandabin]

LET'S TALK ABOUT GAZA

At least 19,453 Palestinians have been killed in Israeli attacks since October 7, 2023. More than 6,000 children have been killed in Gaza – not counting those still missing or buried under the rubble. 

Two Palestinian boys have been shot dead by Israeli forces in the occupied West Bank. Israel's attacks have killed 4,104 children in Gaza. That's comfortably more than 100 children killed every day on average.

Children are crying out for their parents. They are writing their names on their body parts so when they get bombed- not if, but when, they can be recognized. So they can have a name and not a number. So they can still be their parent's child. 

Israel says that it is targetting only Hamas. But what is the need to kill innocent children, toddlers, infants? Why do they die? What is their sin? What did they do? 

Children are writing their will. Little kids feel the need to write their will. They are not supposed to be like this. They are supposed to be playing with other kids, coloring on pages and going to school. They are supposed to hug their mother and father. Not cry for them in a hospital. They are supposed to be held. Not buried under rubbles and stone. They are humans. They are alive. They have a name. They have a family. A mother, a father, a sibling. They have a story. They are not a number. They have a name. Each of them has their own story. 

There was a time when I believed that perhaps, there was good in the world. Maybe people are nice. But after seeing a mother wipe away her son's blood as his last remain, after seeing children cry out for their mumma in the hospital, after seeing a father search for his little girl and son in the devastating rubble, after seeing mother write their children's names so they can be recognized as a family, after seeing the hostages that were taken in as CHILDREN being released, after seeing a pregnant mother be killed by an airstrike with the baby still inside her, after seeing a mother recognize her injured daughter within a glance, after seeing the temples and mosques of the people of Palestine being destroyed, after seeing that the education in Palestine has been stopped because no more students are left, I realized the world is cruel. 

I don't know what's right or what's wrong, whether what is happening is justified or not, but we can all agree on one thing and that is that the innocent shouldn't suffer, they shouldn't be caught in the middle of a warzone.

God is watching. Justice will be served.

Please try to donate to @emanzaqoutt and to any other person in need of help if you can, if not, then please try to garner attention and make others aware about it. A few minutes out of your day could change someone's life.

https://www.gofundme.com/f/Help-Eman-start-her-study-and-escape-Gaza-genocide

[cirilla-fiona-riannon]

Galileo Galilei Main Story

Translations may not always capture the exact nuances or tone of the original text. Expect grammatical errors and inaccuracies.

Spoliers ahead. Not proofread.

After Sagredo was mercilessly executed, Galileo was taken away somewhere by the priests.

The hall where the inquisition occurred was eerily silent, as if nothing had happened.

(This is the inquisition he underwent.)

(He wasn't only branded a heretic for advocating heliocentrism, but he also lost his dear friend.)

(This is why he blamed himself so much.)

(.......)

The memory of his cries resurfaced, causing a pain in my chest that was beyond words.

(I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Galileo.)

(I touched your deep wounds insensitively back then.)

At that moment, something dawned on me.

(Wait, he said "they" at that time, but Sagredo was the only one who died in the inquisition.)

(Could it be that there are more victims?)

I never thought I would witness the truth he bore with my own eyes and the rage that made him despise the world.

Galileo, imprisoned in a cold, lonely cell, clenched his fists alone.

Galileo: "Sagredo, I'm sorry."

Galileo: "Why did you have to suffer this fate? Why?"

Though his voice trembled with agony, the strong will that Sagredo had kindled still shone in his eyes.

Galileo: "I won't give up. I'll get out of here and spread the truth to the world for you, Sagredo."

A single tear fell as he muttered.

Galileo: "What?"

He looked up as he heard a commotion outside.

There were sounds of dirt being dug up haphazardly, wheels creaking, and whispers of people.

When he looked outside through the only window in his cell, he saw two men carrying "something" in a wooden cart.

Galileo: "What is that?"

Priest 1: "Dealing with corpses is no easy task."

Priest 2: "Yeah. It would've been better if they had just burned them all."

Priest 2: "Even if they're the family of a heretic, it's sad to see them getting ripped apart by wild dogs."

Priest 1: "Sure, it's a quick fix, but I wish they'd consider those of us who have to clean it up."

Galileo: "Family of a heretic?"

The words he heard made his blood run cold, and his fingers began to tremble.

Even though he knew he shouldn't look, a dreadful premonition flashed through his mind, preventing him from averting his gaze. 

As he watched, something slid out from under the cloth covering the cart.

What Galileo saw was the scarred arm of a young child, with a tattered flower crown caught on it.

Galileo: "----!!"

Galileo: "No, it can't be..."

He began to remember.

------------Flashback-----------

Livia: "Big brother, I can't make the flower crown properly."

Galileo: "Let me see."

Galileo: "Here you go. Happy birthday, Livia."

Livia: "Wow, it's so cute! Thank you, big brother!"

---------Flashback Ends--------

Livia had been so delighted with the flower crown that she stubbornly refused to part with it. Because of this, their mother had to turn it into a dried flower crown.

Livia always carried it with her.

Galileo: "Livia?"

The white ribbon tied to the flower crown was stained with blood.

Priest 1: "Alright, let's get rid of them."

Priest 2: "Yeah."

They carelessly dumped the stuff they were transporting into the hole.

With a dull thud, the bodies piled up, and as the cloth fell away, it revealed the bodies of his sisters, his brother, and his mother.

Galileo: "No. Stop! Wait!!"

Galileo: "Livia, Virginia, Michelangelo! Mother!"

He grabbed the iron bars, shouting.

But his screams were in vain, as the sight of his beloved family was quickly buried under the earth.

Galileo: "Did you kill them? All of them?"

Galileo: "Why? Why, even my family!?"

As his cell filled with sobs and screams, the sound of a padlock being opened echoed from outside.

The priest, who had pronounced him a heretic, appeared.

Priest: "Did you witness the fate of your family, Galileo Galilei?"

Priest: "Consider this your punishment. Or perhaps it’s a mercy, for you saw them one last time."

Galileo: "You!!"

He lunged at the priest, but the priest accompanying him restrained him.

Even as he was forced to the ground, he continued to glare at the priest like a wild beast.

Galileo: "Why did you kill my family!? I'm the only heretic, am I not!?"

Galileo: "You killed Sagredo, and now my family, too. Why go to such lengths!?"

Galileo: "Is the truth of heliocentrism such a grave sin!?"

The priest looked down at Galileo with cold contempt and slowly began to speak.

Priest: "You're a heretical scholar who denies God's teachings. No, a filthy, heretical monster."

Priest: "Do you still not understand? Your true sin isn't heliocentrism."

Priest: "It's the vampire blood that flows within you!"

Galileo: "----!!"

Galileo: "So, that's why...?"

Realizing that his true nature had been discovered, Galileo's eyes widened as he understood the truth.

Galileo: "I see, condemning heliocentrism was just a front."

Galileo: "You used the inquisition to capture me, a dhampir."

Priest: "Exactly. Monsters that drink human blood must not exist in this world."

The priest explained that revealing the existence of vampires and dhampirs to the public would cause mass hysteria. To prevent this, they first captured him under the guise of heresy.

Galileo: "If being a vampire is a sin, then why did you kill Sagredo? Why did you kill my siblings and my mother?"

Galileo: "They're human!"

Priest: "Sagredo was your follower, wasn't he?"

Priest: "If you were to recant heliocentrism during the inquisition, he would've surely tried to stop you, so we used him."

Galileo: "You went that far."

Priest: "Anyone close to a vampire cannot be allowed to live."

Priest: "They might eventually start drinking blood too."

Galileo: "That's absurd!"

Priest: "We protected humanity from the vile vampires!"

His protests fell on deaf ears as the priest remained steadfast in his stance. He blindly believed that even taking lives was justified as a righteous hammer.

Priest: "Let me tell you this again. There should be no sinful monsters like you. You need to burn in God's fire."

Priest: "But before that, I shall investigate if there are others like you among us."

Galileo stopped the priest as he turned to leave the cell.

Galileo: "Wait! What about my father? What happened to him?"

Priest: "Ah, the pureblood. The accursed one said to possess eternal life."

Priest: "He was dealt with immediately. A creature that turns bitten humans into monsters is an extremely dangerous existence."

Priest: "If he doesn't die, he will be subjected to eternal torment. By now, he is likely dismembered and sunk to the bottom of some water."

Galileo: ".........."

Priest: "Remember, this is not persecution. There is no place in this world for creatures like you in the first place."

Priest: "It's all because of the sins you were born with."

When the priests left, the harsh sound of the cell being locked echoed.

Galileo: "Father..."

The mere thought of what his father, the only one possibly still alive, might be enduring filled him with a nauseating hatred that rose from his gut.

The final images of Sagredo and his family were burned into his mind as he covered his mouth.

Galileo: "Ugh."

His father had once said, "This is our dream, as father and son."

His family's smiles, the words he exchanged with his friend, and all those beautiful memories got swallowed up by despair.

Overwhelmed by the thought of being born with sin, he eventually laughed weakly.

Galileo: "Ha...haha..."

Galileo: "Bridge, huh? It was all my fault."

Galileo: "Just because I was a dhampir, just because of that..."

Galileo: "I killed them all."

The light of determination faded from his eyes.

It was as if his brilliant dreams and hopes had all been crushed.

Afterward, the priest publicly announced his death, but in reality, he was kept alive in confinement and subjected to repeated torture.

Galileo's golden hair, which once glimmered in the light, gradually turned silver.

Guard 1: "Hey, it looks like Galileo Galilei has finally gone mad."

Guard 2: "He's like a puppet when you torture him. He's often muttering to himself; it's creepy."

Guard 1: "That living-dead monster is useless now."

Galileo listened vaguely to the voices of the guards outside.

Galileo: "I hate them. I hate them all."

He was lying on the cold stone floor, his body covered in wounds and bruises from the torture.

He muttered curses with empty eyes and a voice filled with resentment.

Galileo: "I won't forgive them. I want to kill those humans."

Galileo: "And myself."

Galileo: "Yeah, I see. This is the truth."

Galileo: "Even I, who wished for coexistence, have come to hate humans so much."

Galileo: "We can never truly understand each other. It's impossible."

With his loved ones killed, he had no way of stopping the hatred that took root in his heart.

He only understood that the hatred stemming from the human heart distorted the world.

Galileo: "Our dream was nothing but a fantasy, Father."

Realizing this truth plunged his heart deeper into despair.

Galileo: "If only I could start over."

Galileo: "If only I could go back and save everyone."

He muttered, and his eyes widened in realization.

Galileo: "Go back in time."

Galileo: "That’s right, why didn't I realize it before?"

Galileo: "The door. If I build that door and go back in time, I can save everyone."

Galileo: "I can get my family, friends, and everything back."

He rose to his feet, and a strong determination returned to Galileo's eyes for the first time in a long while.

It was less hope and more like a budding hint of madness.

Guard 1: "It's time for interrogation. Come out, Galileo Galilei. Hey?"

That day, the guard who entered the cell found Galileo collapsed on the floor.

His abdomen was stained red, and a pool of blood had formed beneath him.

By his side was a piece of sharp debris, suggesting he had stabbed himself with a fragment from the crumbling wall.

Guard 2: "Could he be dead? We need to report this!"

As the guards started to panic一

Guard 1: "Gyaah!!"

Galileo, who had been lying still, sprang up and attacked them.

Enduring the searing pain in his abdomen, he broke free from their restraints and escaped into the darkness.

Galileo spent many months in hiding and worked tirelessly.

Galileo: "Finally, it's finished."

Based on the designs and theories he had memorized, he completed the door.

Galileo: "Livia, Sagredo..."

Galileo: "Virginia, Michelangelo, Father, Mother..."

Galileo: "I'm coming to save you. Please wait for me."

Galileo: "I will change our fate."

Aware of the forbidden nature of interfering with history, he reached out to the door.

Previous Part ╎ Masterlist ╎ Next Part

[monicahar]

if he was the puppet soldier in the tale, then what if you were the ballerina? spoilers for scaramouche's teaser!

he felt something.

a tug on his chest, a swirl of conflicting emotions forming inside his tempestuous mind as something foreign inside him is desperately wanting to reach out to you—to claim you as his and no one else's.

what is this feeling? he'd wonder as he silently admired you dancing amidst the moonlight glow—basking in its light as you put your heart into your graceful movement, effectively entrapping him into a trance.

he had never felt this way before with any of his other former companions.

very much like the soldier doll in the tale, it was love. romantic, to be exact. this smoldering emotion that created an unnecessary yet deep desire to be with you for eternity.

but is it really love?

he didn't have a heart. he doesn't posses the bare minimum for what it takes to feel. he is but a hollow vessel abandoned by its creator. he shouldn't feel. he is not capable of such things.

so what was this longing he held for you? where was it coming from?

as time went on with him progressing into his grand birth as a god—he eventually brushed this whole predicament off. this was probably the result of some witchcraft you meddled with. he wouldn't put it past you. after all, you were incredibly mischievous, so it's highly possible. it'd be impossible otherwise. that's what he used to think.

but now that he's been reborn after the wires snapped, the scorching feeling of being smothered by burning hot flames in every inch of his body as he's falling to his inevitable defeat against the traveler and buer—he thinks back to the old tale the child had told him once.

a silver heart amidst from ashes of the burnt doll.

after the fire consumed him and he came to the point where he had nothing left to call his own did he finally realize—that he had a heart all along. long has it been buried underneath all his pain and suffering, now resurfaced once more as he meets clarity and is now slowly embracing his past.

the shell that encased and hid his heart was now broken—thus his pent up emotions over the course of multiple centuries are now loose. he's now a lot more open with his feelings,“but that doesn't mean they're always positive.”—the traveler commented once, irking him greatly as he gave them a slap to the back of their head. but it remained true.

call it a god complex or just plain sadism, but he still liked seeing living beings suffer. but the good thing is that it was a lot more milder than before, no longer doing it to humans “unless absolutely necessary”—nahida quoted, knowing that there will be times where he encounters unforgiving foes throughout his wandering.

he scoffed at her nagging mothering, funnily enough.

you would be proud. he thinks. he's now finally doing something for himself instead of his enraged pursuit of becoming one with divinity—all while still being himself.

dragging his thumb along the smooth and intricate ridges of his newfound anemo vision attached on a sash over his shoulder, he subconsciously lets out a small smile at his own new heart and new purpose as he stares at the world before him.

he'll wander and discover new things, then wander even more after—for him to continue doing so until he finds you once more,

so now that this time,

with his heart to act upon—he can love you all over again without anything in his way, his beloved ballerina.

[gaoau]

it is not wise to swear at a mirror

theory of the two demons warnings — none word count — 2.3k

prev. — next.

[Name] stares at the man as they fumble with the steel bracelet in their pocket and its leaf charms. they've seen his face twice before, although only in documents—once at the research facility and once when namiyo located him a few months ago. this is their father, the one they share a last name and a kanji with. he stands at his doorway, mouth agape as he analyzes the kid in front of him. for a moment, when he looks into their eyes, he thinks his wife has come back to haunt him after all this time.

it's been seventeen years.

with hesitant fingers, [Name] pulls the bracelet out from their pocket. the man recognizes it immediately. tears spill before he can even realize he's already rushing towards his child. "[Name]…?" he breathes out, trembling hands reaching for his late wife's bracelet.

they let him take the jewelry. it arguably belongs to him more than them. as he rejoices over the last piece of his wife's legacy, [Name] bows. a gentle simper quirks their lips up. "it's nice to meet you."

hearing their father speak, [Name] understands the origins of their name and where it comes from.

they stand along with him at the [Surname] family grave. their mother's and grandparents' ashes are buried right here. the smell of incense is quite familiar. they have learned proper customs as they kneel and pay respects to their family. their father recounts stories, pronouncing their mother's name so fondly, and [Name] hears another kanji to match in their name.

when he grows quiet, they turn to gaze at his face. he's a forty-something-year-old salaryman, but he looks like he's lived far too many lives in one. [Name] guesses it must be the weight of grief. [Name] guesses it must be the weight of their own actions reopening a healed wound.

he feels their eyes on him and smiles to himself. "it's not your fault, [Name]." he says it genuinely. it sounds like he's also trying to convince himself. "you'd only been born for a few minutes."

"i'm sorry."

"you didn't mean to," he reassures them, "none of us could have known." then he laughs, "it was funny, actually, seeing you bounce off the floor completely unharmed." he laughs, but it's not funny at all. he remembers his wife growing weaker by the second right in front of his eyes. he remembers her flatlining and his child slipping from her arms. he remembers growing weak himself as he held them. "i'm so happy you're alive and well, [Name]."

slowly, silently, innocently, they killed a person within an hour of being born. they watch their father fidget with the steel bracelet. they know it's not their fault. they also know their mother shouldn't have died. any words they could possibly offer would just be excuses, so they bow their head to the grave one more time. that is what life is; something that they can take and something that can be taken from them. something they want to protect for some and something they want to scorn for others. (puppies and demons.)

dusting off their pants, they stand up with unchanging, normal thoughts. "i'll take my leave now." their father stares up at them with gentle eyes. he understands he shouldn't ask questions. "thank you." they bow one last time before turning to exit the cemetery. they have finished all they needed to do.

[Surname] [Name] has never disliked Dazai Osamu. they have plenty of reasons to hate and curse him, but they also have just as many counterarguments. they don't dislike him; they dislike the blood, the bandages, the wavering smiles, the look in his eye. they dislike the fact that an excruciating pain pushes him to bawl like a child and yet he doesn't. they dislike that he's just a kid. they have wanted to hate him as much as they have wanted to hold his hand to cross the street.

they realize they're up against something bigger than them. they realize Dazai is bigger than himself. alone and alienated, made lonely by thoughts so normal.

the theory of the two demons states far too many things [Name] doesn't agree with. an allegory Dazai blurted on a whim sounded heavy, but nonetheless easy on the ears. they glance up at the ceiling as they rest against the farthest wall from the door of the training room. it's all imprinted in their brain. the lights don't blink anymore. the bulbs that once burnt out have been replaced. it's quiet. they bring their knees up to their chest as they undo the buckle of their choker. the smooth leather feels somewhat comforting.

they think they should consider the people around them a little more. earlier this morning, Q rambled about how boring it is to be confined. they listened, because it's all they can do without boasting freedom at their fingertips. yesterday, Chuuya congratulated them on meeting their father over a few drinks. they smiled and thanked him, because they can act ignorantly with him.

their phone rings and the screen lights up with Dazai's number. they turn it off, knowing it won't take much longer for him to find them here. they wait, resting their forehead against their knees, listening to their calm breathing fill the room. then the lock clicks open.

aggravated, Dazai sighs. he spots [Name] against the wall instantly. they don't take up any space, almost as if they weren't there at all, and although he's grown used to their selfish anger, it still is impossible to miss. they unhide their face to meet his eye. a familiar, passive, silent glare to contain and appease the sharp waves of ire contaminating the air. he opens his mouth to chew them out on their poor punctuality, but he stops when he quickly senses something is off.

one, they're not wearing Chuuya's choker. two, they're holding a gun. three, they're starting to take up space as they stretch out their legs.

he stares them down quietly for a moment. they wait as he measures his words. Mori said he wouldn't be mad. "you're wasting our time," he states, bored, airy voice unusually stern, "let's go. we have work to do."

even as he turns to head out the door, [Name] doesn't budge from their spot. he halts, glancing over his shoulder, urging them with his gaze, hurry up. they cock the gun in their hand and the sound bounces off the walls. "you already know one of us ain't coming out alive of this room, right?" they're Dazai's mentee, after all, however outdated that title might be, and they're just as childish.

"[Name], you can't beat me. you know that."

"that's true." they nod their head solemnly. it's funny that they have to crane their neck up slightly to look him in the eye while he cautiously approaches. he's always felt ten feet tall to them—it will hit harder when he drops. they'd laugh if it wasn't bitter. "but one day, you'll meet your match, Dazai-san. and when you do, i hope that you win. you'll be alone on top of the world for the rest of your life. you don't deserve to die with the rest of us."

Dazai processes all their words as soon as they hit him. he lets them filter through his skin and sink deep into the marrow of his bones. he thinks there's a semblance of truth in [Name]'s common thoughts, reflecting back on his own. he stares down at them with a darkened glare. [Name] knows he would have already killed anyone else to say this to him, but they don't fear death when they know it's waiting right outside the other side of the trigger. so they stare back at Dazai and the void in his eye.

he's just a kid. he's nothing more than a young boy, torn and tattered over unattainable happiness slipping through his fingers, trapped in lonely darkness creeping up his ankles like deadly vines. but it doesn't kill him; it never will. it's that empty look in his eye where [Name] catches glimpses of a small boy so alone and so afraid. they wish they could have held him like they once held Q, let him shed the tears that are rightfully his. but this boy is Dazai, and he would never allow anyone to even look at him when he hides his face in his knees. 

"who knew you could be so vocal? are you done?" 

"no. i will in a moment. this is the last thing i need to do." with a tired sigh, [Name] rises to their feet. their choker hangs from their fingers and the buckle jingles quietly. the gun is heavy in their hand. they start, "you say there's no point in living, Dazai-san," keeping their voice steadily soft. Dazai's chest is still fragile, whether they care or not. "then, pray tell, why are you still here?"

he's getting bored of this question. "you've asked me this already." he's getting bored of this question, not only because he's heard it a billion times before, but also because he's running out of answers. the words he used to dodge their accusations the first time have no place here anymore.

"it's 'cause you're a coward." their voice hangs in the air. Dazai doesn't want to blink. he chuckles to himself. it sounds bitterly jovial. [Name] lets him, knowing if he wanted to defend his own ideas, he would. so they lean back against the wall, shoulders loose, and continue spouting all they've kept quiet, "out of anyone in this city, you fear death the most. you play games with it, get a little too close; you let it follow you like a shadow. and you pretend it's not there."

Dazai doesn't want to laugh. he'd rather twist and turn himself inside out so that he won't be special in anyone's eyes anymore. he doesn't want to laugh, he's not amused at all, but he lets it flood over his lips. the normal thoughts he shares with [Name] are not a product of his actions. only a coincidence. only a mirror. (it's true, he realizes, familiarity breeds contempt.)

[Name]'s blank eyes flash with pity he avoids reading. there's a ghost of a sorrowful grimace on their furrowed brows. "here it is, though." the barrel of the gun is cold against their jaw. "dying is a part of living, but you, Dazai-san, are living wrong." is it excruciating pain or restrained anger? it's earnest concern.

"and you aren't?"

"i've been proper." they shrug. Dazai's glare sticks to the gun they're using as a rest for their chin. Mori said he wouldn't be mad, he knows. "i've been careful. i've been you."

"[Name], put the gun down."

"i've been responsible. i've finished all i needed to do."

"[Name]."

it burns.

[Name] has never disliked Dazai. they hate the similarities, they hate looking in a mirror so real, they hate the bloody and demonic intelligence. however many puppies he has killed or however many scars he has given them, they can't dislike him for matters that are not his fault. the same way they forgave Q's tantrum when they massacred their allies, they can try to understand all of Dazai's childish fits—not completely, because Dazai stands on his own where no one can reach him, but enough to scold him. they are so, so sorry. they won't let him take this to his grave.

"life hates you, Dazai-san, so you'll never die."

their pulse doesn't tremble when they pull the trigger. it's rather unexpected, although nothing is ever unexpected for Dazai. it's all that he expected from [Name].

the gunshot echoes in the room, followed shortly after by the choker buckle clinking on the floor when it slips from [Name]'s fingers. death is here again. Dazai watches their body slide against the wall and drop with a dull thud. he thinks he's seen this sight before; blood pours from their mangled jaw and pools around them. their eyes are wide open, staring right at him. death is here again and it's not for him, because it enjoys staring people that want to die in the eye. it sits and stares. it does nothing more than sit and stare.

("lucky dog.")

death, right now, is sitting and staring. how many more years is he going to hold back his tears for?

an exasperated sigh slips from his lips. he'll have to report this to Mori. "come on," he starts, voice airy and light, dancing with notes of sardonic laughter, "that's such a cursed thing to say." he offers [Name]'s unblinking corpse a smile. it's the smile of a child, innocent and ignorant. it's heavy.

it burns and it will never stop burning, [Name] knew.

"that's all," Dazai finishes his report. silence hangs as he quietly waits for Mori to dismiss him. he's given the boss every detail of [Surname] [Name]'s suicide. he has other more important matters to attend to.

with a smirk curling his lips, Mori asks, "so, did it work?"

Dazai blinks. "did what work?"

"i left [Name]-kun to you for a reason."

"for a reason?" he repeats in a mumble. he ponders over a vague sentence. it processes in his brain in a millisecond. "ah, for a reason. for a reason, huh? for a reason, i see." Dazai doesn't bother to wait and dismisses himself. he heads out the office, muttering, "yes, for a reason. for a reason, of course. for a reason."

Mori chuckles to himself as the doors close behind Dazai. he knew this scheme of his would work out.

note — surely you didnt think mc was gonna live lol. if dazai can avoid death so much, you bet your fucking ass im gonna rub it in his face and sink my fingers into his wounds wack ass hoe. for the record this is before odasaku bites the dust anyway the chapter title is a translated quote from the light novel "the day i picked up dazai" said by dazai when speaking about a man mocking odasakus confidence in his abilities during a critical situation. i thought itd be ironic to use dazais words against himself, not to mention fairly comical on another note, i dont really think dazai is afraid of death tbh. its kinda hard to tell, cause hes died like three/four times already and he didnt seem particularly worried about it, but that might be just because he trusts someones gonna fix it (which they always do). so idk bro this man is exhausting. its true tho that hes still alive which same bestie sometimes you try to kys and it just doesnt happen and suddenly you have responsibilities. im sure it tears him apart to know hes on his way to outlive the age odasaku was when he died lmfao (i wish i was dead) so thats that. this is the last chapter. what follows is an epilogue. thank you for reading this far. have day 

[mydarllinglover]

Stars Collided || Twelve

Previous

The two had returned in the early hours of the next day.

Lovisa hadn’t done anything but sit around and wait for them, she couldn’t even sleep, and refused, where Beru had offered her a bed.

The Princess’s chest ached, as she watched Anakin carry his mothers body, towards the farm, and without saying anything to his new family, he continued, into their home.

"Snips." Lovisa looked at her friend, who seemed deeply troubled, she was breathing heavy too, and her hands slightly shook. "What happened?"

"Lovey." Ahsoka grabbed hold of her wrist, and pulled her away from the three, so that they could talk in private.

"What happened back there?" Lovisa asked, once again, now that they were alone.

"Vis, it was horrible, no child should have to see their parent like that, like she was. She was still alive, when we got there, but, oh, god, it was bad, so, so bad, she had been suffering for so long, tied up to some rack. Then she… she died in his arms."

"Fuck." The princess cursed, completely taken back, as she clutched her chest.

"That's not all, after she died, something in him just sort of snapped, I couldn't break him out of it, I couldn't, I tried, Lovey, but I failed."

"What? What did he do?" Lovisa asked, growing even more worried.

"You should ask him, yourself, I can't repeat it." Ahsoka then walked away from her, shaking her head.

They had held a small funeral for Shmi Skywalker, Anakin had been the one to dig his mothers grave, and bury her beneath.

Lovisa and Ahsoka had stood by the side, as her family surrounded her.

"You were the love of my life." Cliegg spoke. "Kind, gentle, and generous, to anyone who needed it, no matter what situation was going on in your own life, you taught me to be a better person, and my biggest regret is not having enough time with you."

Anakin had requested some time alone with his mother, and they had all granted it to him.

But eventually, Lovisa had decided she’d given him enough space, and it was time to get answers.

She had found him in one of the farms workshops, he was stood at a work bench, messing around with some parts, fixing them, she realised.

"Life seems so much more simple, when you're fixing things." He said, his voice came out harsh, as he held back all his emotions, his throat was dry, as well, from the desert sand.

"Anakin..." Lovisa started. "What happened back there?"

Anakin kept his head down, as he continued to work on some sort of charm.

"Ani" She sighed, taking a step closer to him. "Whatever it was, Ahsoka seemed really troubled by it. Whatever happened, you can tell me. Please, please tell me."

Her heart beat loudly, as she waited for a reply, she slightly chewed on her lip.

"I told her not to come, but she didn't listen."

"I asked her to go with you." Lovisa replied.

"You shouldn't have done that." He glared at the girl.

"I just want to understand." She laid a hand on his shoulder.

He took a deep breath, before seeming to change his mind about calming down, turning on her, sharply.

"I killed them." He snapped at her. "I killed them all. Not just the men, but the women, and the children, too, I slaughtered them!" His voice rose, as did his anger, at the memory of last night. "They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals, every single one of them. I hate them!"

Lovisa gasped at what he had admitted, what he confessed to her.

"They tortured her, for a month, she suffered and I couldn't help her, they wouldn't let me go to her! They're jealous of me, the council and Obi-Wan, they're jealous of me, and they're holding me back, I could have prevented it, but they wouldn't allow it, made out that I was the weak one, but If I had done something, she'd still be alive. I'm stronger and more powerful, than them, and they can't stand it."

Lovisa had nothing to say to him, she couldn't offer anything, she stared at him in pure shock.

"She's dead, my mother is dead, and I didn't help her." His anger had changed into sadness, as tears pulled from his eyes. "She's gone, she's gone forever, and I'm never going to see her again." He wept.

In his anger, Anakin had stepped closer to the girl, and now, as he allowed his grief to consume him, he fell into her arms, dropping his head onto her shoulder, as he continued to cry for his mother.

Lovisa wrapped her arms around him, offering him comfort that he soar out from her.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, as she soothingly played with it.

"It's okay." She whispered to him. "It's okay, she's at peace now, she's not suffering anymore, it's okay."

Anakin hadn’t been able to pull himself together, for some time, and Lovisa had held him, her fingers rubbing his scalp, as she rubbed his back, saying soothing things, into his ear, until eventually he rose to his full height, and was able to carry on with life, as if any of it hadn’t happened.

The three had decided that they would need to return back to Naboo, and to the Lake district, seemingly as their chapter had been wrapped up here, and there was still a threat looming over the princess's head.

Lovisa sat between her two friends, no one would say anything, but the tension was thick.

"We need to stop, for the night." Ahsoka decided, suppressing a yawn.

"No, we'll keep going." Anakin refused, as he fought to keep his eyes open.

"We haven't slept in almost four days, Skywalker, you've drifted asleep enough times to know we should stop, and Lovisa can barely keep her head up."

"She's fine, she can sleep if she wants to." Anakin rolled his eyes, as he kept the arm that the girl was currently leaning on, still.

"We're stopping." Ahsoka pushed.

"It's more important that we get back."

"We're stopping?" Lovisa shot up, seeming alert, at the prospect of sleeping in an actual bed.

"Yes."

"No."

"Look, there's an Inn, over there, at least until sunrise, we all could use it, even the pups."

"Yes, we'll stay at the Inn, for the remaining of the night, it will do us all some good." Lovisa decided.

"Vis-" Anakin went to refuse, but when he looked at her, he knew he couldn't. "Fine, but as soon as the sun is up, we're gone."

Upon seeing the three teenagers, the innkeeper, a plump elderly woman, had given them two bedrooms, one for the boy, and one for the two girls, as she had told them that it was improper for the three of them to share, and so they had no choice but to accept the keys, as they hid their puppies under their cloaks.

"Did you talk to Skywalker?" Ahsoka had asked, as the two laid in bed, together, facing one another.

"I did." Lovisa admitted.

"And?"

"He told me what happened." She sighed.

"What, and that's all you have to say about it?"

"What else am I supposed to say, Snips?"

"Lovey, he killed an whole village of people, I watched him do it, there were innocent people there."

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it, when he dealt with those men in the forest."

"Because it was a completely different situation. They were trying to kidnap you, and they weren't children."

"They killed his mother, kept her alive enough to torture her, and then she died in his arms. And Cliegg said himself that they were barely human, but monsters."

"But the whole village? Not all of them could be."

"I trust Anakin, he did what he thought was right."

"He did it for revenge." Ahsoka cut her off.

"Were they really innocent if they were there, they would have just grown up to their surroundings, done it to others, others who are innocent, no one deserves to go through what Shmi did, it could happen to you, or me, or anyone. Anakin would never kill someone who didn't deserve it."

"He's a Jedi, Lovisa, it's against the code to kill an unarmed person."

"He will never do something like this, again, I promise you, Ahsoka, he's a good person. He's the chosen one."

"Look, I like him, Lovey, I do, but can we really trust him?"

"We can, he would never do anything to harm us, God picked him, for a reason, and he wouldn't make a mistake, like that. We have to keep this to ourselves, and pretend it never happened, he did the world an favour by getting rid of such evil creatures."

"You really believe that?"

"I do."

"Then I guess I can convince myself of that, too." Ahsoka looked down, as she chewed on her lip, deep in thought.

Lovisa sat up, lifting the duvet off of her.

"I should go check on him." She thought out loud.

Ahsoka didn't reply, instead, turning around on her other side, her back facing the princess.

Lovisa took this as a good response, to leave.

She stood in front of the door to his room, for the night, in just a pale blue silk night gown, thinking about what she was going to say to him.

She forced herself to knock on the wood, before thinking about it, and as she begun to regret her decision, and call herself all sorts of insults, it opened.

There he stood, he wasn't wearing an item of clothing on his top half, and was in his black trousers, like always.

Lovisa felt her cheeks grow red, as she pried her eyes off of his chest, and looked up at his face, his hair hung in front of his eyes, as he looked down at her, leaning his forearm on the door frame.

"Vis?" He asked.

She blinked. Twice.

"Anakin." She said, she couldn't think of anything else.

"What are you doing, here?" he studied her. “Awake.”

Lovisa swallowed, before taking a breath, then remembered why she did come here.

"I wanted to check up on you, make sure you're doing okay." She told him. "Are you doing okay?"

He looked past her, not having an answer.

"I am not sure." He replied, honestly.

"Would it help if I kept you company?" Lovisa found herself saying.

"You wanna come in?" He furrowed his brows.

"If you'll allow me."

He nodded, his eyes on the floor.

"I'd like that." Anakin looked at her, as his eyes swam with emotion.

She smiled at him, a kind, comforting smile.

Next

[mirimiramiri]

… in a hopeless place

The shadows of the fighters looked like long brush strokes drawn by a restless hand on the dusty canvas of the castle courtyard. In the hazy red light of the evening sun, the master trained his student to prepare him for his great test. Their steps were quick and silent, only the singing of the swords disturbing the peace.

“Folken is good, isn’t he, Mom?” 

“Yes.” Like his father, Varie thought. The dark waves of loneliness once again overwhelmed her inexorably. Using strength that she no longer possessed, she fought her way back into the here and now. 

From one of the castle's countless balconies, she watched the progress of her firstborn. Her youngest son keeping her company. Mother and child were alone, only little Merle was sleeping in her bed in a room behind them. She was exhausted from raging. Once again Van - her tireless playmate - had followed her throughout the castle. Maids complained in secret about the children's wild antics, but the queen didn't care. 

Little did she care about anything these days.

It was slowly becoming autumn. The world was immersed in a cheerful sea of various colors, but red was the most present. Like a harbinger of doom, the forest's crown of leaves turned crimson, as if blood were streaming down the sacred mountains of Fanelia. 

The queen was shivering and the thick cloak around her shoulders did nothing to stop it.

“He will definitely be able to complete the ritual,” explained her youngest son with the confidence of childish inexperience. He reached for her hand as if he sensed her slipping toward depression. "Certainly." 

Folken narrowly avoided a dangerous blow from Vargas, but the tip of his sword robbed him of a few strands of his silver hair. Varie frowned as her son was reprimanded by his master. In her opinion, they shouldn't train with real weapons. It was negligent, an accident could have happened too easily. Goau would surely have laughed at her womanish clucking... 

“Mom?” Van tugged at her fingertips and with difficulty she tore her worried gaze away from her firstborn, who had grown up far too quickly. There stood her second son, the long-awaited latecomer, her late miracle. When she had already buried any hope along with his unfortunate siblings. In the evening light his big eyes shone like two rubies. He looked very serious. 

“Yes, what is it?” she asked and decided to give him her full attention now. She was neglecting him, that much was clear to her. But it was often so painful to dedicate herself to him. She only ever saw his father in his face, his fuzzy head, his thoughtful look. Even his high child's voice sounded like Goau's deep baritone and tore her heart into a thousand shreds every day.

“Once Folken is king, what will become of me?” “Oh, a fair question,” were her words of praise. She cocked her head a little. From his mouth it sounded as if he had not the slightest doubt about his brother's success.

 “Don’t you know?” he pressed impatiently. 

She knelt down. Her blue robe cascaded across the floor. Her long hair flowed over it like a second cloak. Not a single white thread ran through her blackness, even though she was already the age of a grandmother by human standards. 

Their first son, by a quirk of nature, had hair like an old man, but Van looked just like his father. A hand stroked his fluffy, shaggy head, ruffling it even more. “You, my little dragon, can do whatever you want with your life.” His eyes grew even larger. 

"Anything?" 

"Exactly." She tapped his tiny nose, making him giggle. “But most likely you will get married, have a family and take over the administration of one of the southern territories.” 

“Marry?!” Van shouted loudly as if the idea were the most absurd thing in the world. “A girl?!”

 "Boys usually marry girls," his mother smiled. She immediately thought of the day of her own wedding, when she walked down the aisle under countless critical looks and swore eternal loyalty to the man of her life. With great difficulty she withdrew from this all too sweet past. 

“But girls are yucky!” her son complained, putting his fists on his sides. The wooden sword at his hip, a gift from Vargas, clacked just as indignantly. “For example, these two boring blonde princesses from Asturia…” he murmured under his breath because it wasn’t really appropriate to gossip. 

“But certainly not all of them,” said Varie indulgently.

Van seemed to have to ponder this for a long time. He furrowed his little brow and she almost thought she saw smoke rising from his ears. 

“Merle is also a girl and not yucky,” he combined extremely astutely. “I’ll just marry Merle.” 

“Oh Van.” Now Varie laughed. It sounded rusty, her body had forgotten how to do it. "Unfortunately this is not possible." 

“Why not?” Now he crossed his arms and looked at her sternly. 

Varie sighed. Children were truly excellent verbal duelists with inexhaustible endurance. Van was no exception. He may not have been nearly as eloquent as Folken at his age, but he made up for it with his tenacity. 

“Merle is not like us,” she explained gently. But that only made him seem even more determined. True to the motto “especially now”. “Dad wasn’t like you either and you still got married.” 

“That was different…” his mother began, but then she stopped. Wasn't she teaching her son exactly the same kind of prejudice as those who had always met her? Who had almost prevented her marriage to Goau? “You know what, you’re right. If you really want that and Merle does too, then you’ll get married one day.” 

She stroked his hair, which no matter how often she combed it would always remain an untamable tangle. Secretly she wanted nothing less than for him to change his mind when he grew up. If the relationship between her and her husband had already been under difficult circumstances, what about between him and the cat girl? Van should have it easier for once. Easier than her and Goau and also Folken. Without the burden of the crown on his head and the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. Hopefully one day he would meet a nice, uncomplicated girl from Fanelia with whom he wanted to marry.

 “Yes, I’m definitely marrying Merle!” Van seemed very happy with himself and his decision. Then his mood changed abruptly. “Are you going to get married again?” he wanted to know sadly. 

Varie swallowed. She hadn't expected this question. "Why would you ask that?"

 “This lunchtime… a few maids were talking about it. That you find a new man and disappear with him. And that they can’t wait for it to happen.”

20 years. 

For 20 years she called this castle and this country her home, the humans her people and yet in their perception she was a parasite. The black widow who dragged the king into misfortune. It was probably only because of the respect that Master Vargas enjoyed among the citizens that they had not been chased away. Sometimes she wondered whether her sons wouldn't be better off without her... and whether there wasn't something to the curse that supposedly fell on the descendants of Atlantis. 

Varie's heart felt heavy. Then she forced her lips into a smile. It certainly seemed tense, but it was all she could manage. “Didn’t I teach you that it’s not appropriate to eavesdrop?” 

Van waved his short arms indignantly. “I can’t help it! I hid and they talked right next to me! I… I…” He blushed. “I even covered my ears, but they were really really really loud.” 

His mother nodded. “I believe you,” she assured and he stopped trying to justify himself. "And to your question: I won't go away with another man." She tickled his chin and he squirmed back and forth, giggling. “Your dad was my great love and that will only go away when the stars no longer shine at night.” 

And sometimes, in dark hours, she cursed Sora for her prophecy, forever chaining her to the human world and a man who had been taken from her far too soon. 

If she had known this beforehand, would she have avoided her fate? Would she have never gone to that mountain lake that night? Or would curiosity have ultimately driven her there? So that her treacherous heart immediately focused on that tall, beautiful man who climbed out of the thicket to her. With that face that was nothing but stunned admiration. Although she immediately showed him her true, feared nature. But he had loved her wings, the mark of her curse, as fiercely and deeply as everything about her. Despite, or perhaps because of, she was different. 

“The stars will always shine, so will you always love daddy?” Goau’s second son concluded after a long time of thinking. 

“Always…” she confirmed.

Prince Van grinned broadly. In doing so, he revealed a gigantic gap from which the last baby tooth had recently fallen. The clanging of metal resounded from the courtyard again. Mother and son turned their attention downward. Folken now held a round shield in front of him. With this he fended off the attacks of automatically fired bolts that drilled into the ground behind him in a grotesque pattern. He moved quickly and deftly. His spectators watched the exercises in admiration. 

A window was slightly open behind the queen and prince. In the room beyond, a small figure lay in a bed. Her long ears twitched frantically. Merle was wide awake. It wasn't appropriate to eavesdrop, but the two of them were talking nearby. No challenge for her excellent hearing. She heard her own heartbeat louder than anything else in her ears. 

Marry? That's what two people did to stay together forever? Out of love. And her prince wanted to marry her. That meant he loved her. Van, her prince, loved her. 

Merle hugged her pillow and imagined it was her Van. Her future husband. Who worshiped her and carried her in his hands. Inspired by this wonderful future, she felt like the most valuable creature in the world. No longer an orphan, an outlaw, neither animal nor human, a servant, an oddball. She was still looked at askance for it, but soon people would look up to her. 

That she would be Van's wife and great love. She pressed a kiss to her pillow and couldn't wait for his promise to finally come true.

Note: Vargas is the German name for Balgus.

I found the huge age gap between Van and Folken remarkable and wondered if their parents might have had problems conceiving and with miscarriage. I had a lot of fun with small Van and will write more about the little rascal in the future, probably together with his father. He reminds me of Calvin and can join the G.R.O.S.S club :D

Huge thanks to wonderful @eireanness!

[anotherqueersnailowner]

My mother just told me (transmasc) that if I died she'd bury me in a wig and a dress.

I was showing her the enclosure I got for my ball python, how big it is. to demonstrate, I laid down in it. Seeing this, she chuckled. "Its just like a coffin," she said. "A big glass coffin. Like the kind they put the incorruptible saints in."

She laughed at this.

"yup, just like that. You'd be holding a rosary though. And I'd put a wig on you of course."

She knows damn well how uncomfortable this makes me. Her religious bullshit, her trying to mold me into the cis girl she wishes I was (or rather-the severely depressed and suicidal gradeschool child I was before I knew I was trans that she, for some sick reason, desperately wishes I still was)

I told her that wouldn't happen, that I intend to put in my will instructions for them to cremate me. She laughed again.

"What're you gonna do to stop me? Once you're dead, I'm the one arranging the funeral."

I tried to argue against this. I shouldn't have had to. I've made it very clear time and time again that I want to be cremated, NOT buried. She doesn't fucking care, and she doesn't fucking respect it. Any of it. Not a fucking goddamn thing!!!

This back and forth went on for a couple minutes, her smiling, laughing, like it's some kind of fucking joke, that she'd dress up her trans son as a girl for his own goddamn funeral.

It's fucking sickening.

Finally, as she leaves the room, she turns back to face me and says it.

"And I'd put you in a dress too. so dont you try anything."

Then she just leaves. Like this is fucking normal, and fine. Like this isn't some sick, twisted, disgusting thing to say to your trans child.

I feel so fucking pathetic. I felt so fucking horrible. I was hyperventilating, shaking when I was alone in my room again. I took some pills again (nothing to serious, don't worry). I was sitting on my bed, rocking back and forth, fingers tapping anxiously, leg bouncing, using every ounce of strength I had to keep my arm still instead of ripping, clawing agonizingly at my own fucking flesh. I tried to cut myself, but the scissors I grabbed weren't sharp enough. I took more pills.

I don't know what the fucking to do.

Should I even be upset? I don't fucking know anymore. I never thought I'd make it this far tbh. Waiting tIL it can get out of this house it cans fucking awful sometimes. So many times.

Whatever. I have work in the morning.

Good night, tumblr.

[yummycrummy]

⚠️ TW for character death ⚠️ Based on my Lesley is dead AU

Roy couldn't believe it. He just couldn't. It had to be some sort of messed up joke, a prank. He knew his Pa that well that he would do something like this to him.

He..he had to see it for himself. Even if he didn't want to believe it. 

The young boy ran down the dirt path through the darkening street, the small houses lining the way making it look almost claustrophobic as he hurried along. Her house wasn't far, he would be there soon. Lesley was fine, she was okay, she was alive- 

Red and blue flashing lights ahead almost made the small puppet stop in his tracks. 

His breathing came out in harsh heavy desperate gasps as he ran to reach them, his vision becoming blurry with welled up tears that stung his eyes. His chest burned and his legs ached but he didn't stop. 

The sight of many police vehicles and many yellow tape that surrounded the scene finally caused Roy to stop, nearly barreling into a few onlookers as they too surveyed the awful scene. Roy panted and stared, wide eyed as he took in his surroundings. He could see a few familiar people and puppets. Not too far away he spotted Lesley's mother and father, talking to a police officer. Her..her mother was crying as her dad held her. 

No, no it couldn't be true- please- 

The boy's wavering gaze fell upon the many police men that were about, before finally landing upon a white sheet that lay on the ground. Roy could feel his heart drop into his stomach, a horrible sickening feeling rising up and causing him to stumble back.

Was- was that her? 

Roy's legs buckled beneath him and he fell to the ground, tears finally falling down his face as he gasped for air. He didn't even care if people were looking at him now, he wasn't even aware where he was anymore. All he could see was his best friend's corpse lying there, her small body splotched with her life source, blood everywhere. Oh god it was everywhere- 

It was all his fault. It was ALL HIS FAULT. Why hadn't he asked if she could've came over, he could've walked with her. She had been all alone, she had gotten hit and it was all his fault. 

Roy let out a pained sob, burying his face into his hands. He didn't even realize an officer was above him, along with two other puppets as they tried to speak with him. Everything was so overwhelming, and he couldn't breathe. It felt like this was a nightmare.

Maybe that's what this was. Maybe he was just asleep and he'd wake up in his bed, and he'd eat the yummy pancakes his mum always made. Then he'd go out and play with Lesley, and she wouldn't be hurt. And then maybe he wouldn't have to feel this horrible...

He..

He hadn't even gotten to tell her how he felt.

His vision went temporarily black for a moment before Roy jolted, and he realized he had been moved somewhere else. He was still outside, but now he had a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and he was now sitting in the back of an ambulance, his small legs dangling over the edge. His face was still wet and stained with tears, and he felt so sleepy. 

He had the distinct feeling that he shouldn't be here, but he felt too drowsy to understand why.

The blue and flashing lights of the police cars almost began to lull him to sleep until he heard a familiar voice call out his name from afar. Roy looked up, startled, and he saw his mother running over to him. 

"Roy! Oh, my baby boy, there you are-" Charlene hurried toward the ambulance as she embraced the small boy tightly in her arms. Roy immediately hugged her back, trembling in her hold as the tears that stung in his eyes still rushing back down his cheeks as he held his mom with all the strength he had left. 

"S-She's gone, mama," The little puppet wept heartbrokingly into the woman's shoulder. The pain was unbearable now. Everything hurt so, so much. "She's, s-she's gone, i-it's all m-my fault.." 

Charlene continued to hold the child in her arms, rocking him gently. She shook her head, tears also falling from her own face. "N-No, no baby, don't say that. It's not.." she shushed him softly as Roy sobbed helplessly. "Come on..you need to come home…you shouldn't be here." 

"All m-my fault..it's a-all my fault.." Roy felt himself be picked up, and he clung to his mother as he kept his face buried into her shoulder. Charlene carried him along, her heart breaking as he kept uttering those words to himself over and over like a broken tape. 

[lazybunny2024]

It's been few weeks or months that i have been obsessed witha idea about a mdzs x svsss crossover where after sj death in svsss he reborn as female wwx twin sister.

Sj kinda remember his past life but slowly means that he remembers that he shouldn't be this small and this isn't his world but couldn't put his finger on it.

Anyway he got reborn as a female and was quite happy cuz of his past life so *she* was more happy here but not as chaotic as wwx.

Her name is wei xing/wei wuyan( i saw it in a video on YouTube so hope i didn't offend you)

Wcz choose her name since his other daughter name already chosen by his lovely evil wife( baby seriously a-se) so he named her xing as in prosper,and wuyan i don't know what it means but thought it would suit her.

She was really happy cuz not only she didn't have that cursed name and actually has a real birth name not a number but a real name with a loving family she was really happy so much that she couldn't believe it

This peace ended with that faithful nighthunt after getting kicked out of inn wwy went to seach for them with wwx and find their corpses wwx Burst in to tears and keep promising to be a good girl and listen to them wwy tried hard not to but was unsuccessful cuz wei couple were the first adult who treat him kindly in his both lives not with pity not with underhand motivation nor were they expecting anything in return,they gave her a life she always wanted a name with them she understood the meaning of love and family so he cried, cried like child he was they cried for a few hours then begin to bury their parents and since wwy could read and write from her past life she manege to write their names so they could visit them.

After that wwy and wwx to always protect each other and stayed side by side in everything. Wwy might be smart but wwx was sturdier than her sister so they have to be in tune with each other to survive.it wasn't that hard wwx might be a child but she learn really quickly and unlikely yqy ,wwx trusted wwy this made wwy to be both proud and emotional since she never had someone like that in her past life so she became even more overprotective of wwx . And since wwx wasn't alone she didn't have that much fear from dogs but they still made her uncomfortable and made her flinch her sister was always there to protect and teach her and she protect here in her own way .

She knew her sister was little too smart for her age but she didn't find anything wrong if anything it made her happy that if anything happens to her her sister is smart enough to protect herself so to not be a burden she listened to her all time except maybe sometime when she scolded her for sharing her food with other beggars but she couldn't help it she was kind like that and always smiled that made wwy soft and so hard to be mad at.

After few years jfm found them wwy distrust him cuz he kept reminding her of yqy but for her sister she would do anything so she didn't put much of a fight.

After reaching lotus pier and meeting madam yu who was so angry and utter thousands of insult about their parents wwy couldn't take it anymore and spit as much venom at her so much that made jfm to lose his balance wwx tried to shut her up cuz she was afraid that the madam would hurt her and yes almost did by brandishing zidan on her if jfm hadn't stop her . After lots of arguing and fighting neither parties apologized .

After jfm finding out aboout wwx condition aboout dogs he sended them away. jc was angry so he lash out and wwy lash out in return but not only that she bring up her parents, about what a failure of couple they are and with everything like money and status they still aren't happy and how his mom jealous of a dead woman who had nothing but was always happy unlike her.

Jc brust to tears after hearing this jyl chose that moment to come and said what was wwy said was out of line and should apologize but wwy said your mother hadn't spare a though about us losing our parents and still speak ill of in front of us she just returning the favor in kind to see how does it feel hear your parents get badmouth and you could do nothing about it .

Well this as much i could think.i would be really happy if someone could make a fic out of this or something close.

[palladiumfragments]

liminal spaces, paradoxes, and conundrums of growing up

it came without warning, like a red flare in stygian darkness, and i’m supposed to hit the ground running or i’d waste away in the very shore that tenderly held the hopes i carried around in a bindle. i must have not seen it coming because there are wounds from my youth i'm still trying to close, things i'm still trying to come to terms with. but it doesn't matter now because it's here and i've dragged my heels long enough.

growing up is a series of last times, little deaths, fumbling for familiar feelings, and listening to the same songs over and over again refusing to admit it's a prayer just to feel at ease with your skin again. despite the years that have graced this body i am still a child, leave me to my own devices and i would just constantly breathe through things that are bruising me and live with the exhaustion. how do i gracefully let go?

i'm thinking of the time my mother picked me up from school and neither of us knew it was the last time. i wonder if she had the same thoughts when she was my age. there was a day i wore that particular jumper for the last time, put away my toys for the last time, said goodbye to a friend for the last time. i wonder if i would've done anything differently if i knew. but there's something anachronistic about childhood that there are moments you feel 10 again before you blink and you're back to being 22.

the things i swore i wouldn't get over from, like the boy from high school who doesn't know he made me a poet or when my sister had to leave to get away from our vampire of a father. it's not that we do not mean forever, it's we say forever but it is as long as nothing changes, but god everything changes and we have no control over it so we learn to whittle down a particular forever into something we can lower to the ground because the sky shouldn't fall and we have school tomorrow.

i didn't want to leave the cliff that looks out to the sea in Bali because i couldn't believe there are places where breathing doesn't hurt. i'm drawn to places vast and infinite, the ones that show me how small i am in comparison, that this life is over before some god falls out of love. the labyrinth beneath my skin shifts when the perspective changes. did i tell you Billy Joel's Vienna and Taylor Swift's You're On Your Own, Kid feel like comforting words from a stranger in a train station you'll meet once in your life?

at 18, i met a boy. i told him of the anger i inherited from the man who sucked the life out of my mother. how it turns me into someone like him, how helpless you'll become when you are the beast and the cage together in one flesh. he didn’t pretend he could save me, he knows what i'm made of and he’ll be there when i blow this prison up. i wonder why i rarely say “i love you” to people i actually love. i think i’m doing a bad job at showing them too. it must have been the bite.

the truth is i didn't have the nerve to leave the scene of the crime, it just collapsed in on itself that summer around midnight. but not before it cut to the bone, not before i could take back the curious little girl who took in stories like a lungful of country air. i'm sure she would've made me kinder. the basilisk in every mirror i look at wouldn't exist. but her skeleton lies in my old closet, buried under a heap of blankets that will never warm her again. forgive me for turning my chest into a graveyard, the first funeral i attended was mine.

i blinked and that was six years ago. i'll be out of school soon, and my life after that is a delicate subject i try to avoid in conversations. this is the longest stay i had in a liminal space and i think it's haunted. the waters are murky, something moves in the shadows, and the rules have changed. i spent my first year in college living on autopilot and the rest in front of a screen because the world has dirt in its lungs, a year later i emerged to a place i can barely recognize. i guess some things you wanted so much when you were 12 don't seem half so wonderful when you get them a decade later.

but maybe our early 20’s isn’t about seeking answers to million-dollar questions or losing our minds over the complexities of our existence. maybe it's simply about making sure i'm getting enough sun and recognizing pomegranate seeds from the underworld when i see one. maybe it's okay to eat pasta straight from the pan when i'm too sad to even swallow and watch Dead Poets Society again and pretend it's the first time. the thing about this kind of melancholia is you cannot let anybody in. it's just you despite the warm words from the people on the porch. maybe you just need to repeatedly cross some lines until it stops being the feeling you dance around to and vomit into poems.

sooner or later it will make sense why i had to leave to stay or break to become whole or die to live. but if it doesn't then that's okay too. i'm not burying anything this time. i'm here and i'm scared but that also means i'm alive— a mosaic of moments, memories, feelings, and dreams. for the meantime i'll sift my fingers through that new book, get that coffee, take a walk at twilight, and when i find a lonely lighted window i'll softly slip into its warmth.

[tasty-soda-pop]

The Way I'm Sure Mice Are Meant To Die

I'm not always sure what God's I worship

I'm not always sure of my own morals

I'm not always sure of my theories of the afterlife

But something I am sure of and always have been is my belief in mother earth

And my hatred of cruel glue traps

I know the mice are not meant to be here

If I were fast enough to catch them to release I would

But I know I am not

So if it must come to a trap I will use something that is fast

Because between a quick bullet to the brain execution or a long tortureous death of struggle and starvation

I think all of us would choose the first choice

Mind you this creature is dying for such a petty crime

Just trying to survive somewhere they don't even know they shouldn't be

When it's over I'll bury him

The mouse in my room that will soon be in a trap that I've set

And I'll feel bad for murdering something more innocent than my own kind

But I will feel better knowing he did not suffer

And that I return him to the earth from which he came

Become throwing a creature of earth

of flesh and bone once granted life

Into layers of plastic with the pollution bound for a graveyard of garbage

It feels so wrong

Even as a child I knew that

It goes against all nature and worse starves earth of her meal

It's take with no true give

I'll likely repeat this to deaf ears of family

When they find me digging a hole for a pest

If I had a choice I'd be buried with no coffin

But I know I don't

So all I can do is hope for the cheapest one

Made of the softest wood

Something easy to rot

I'd rather not keep mother earth waiting long for her meal

For now I'll give her back the small mouse that wandered away from her to my own den

And hope she sees his death not as unatural cruelty but as predator sharing prey

The way I'm sure mice are meant to die

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Redemption

(A side follow up to Broken Bird in @idiotwithanipad 's Gore AU, set before her fic Connections. Ft her oc Amy briefly)

I hate you.

Those three little words hurt him more than her punches and slaps and kicks could hope to.

Why? What did it matter?

Not his. Not his cub. Shouldn't matter. Doesn't matter.

Just carry on. Patrol woods. Look out for threats. Hunt for fresh pelts- No, idiot, can't do that anymore. Food? No, not that either. Spear other tribe who get too close? No spear but claws will do. Yes. He can do that. He has a purpose. Not completely useless.

Protect tribe. Except he has no tribe. No family. No cubs. Just Mistress. Mistress and her runt.

Do as Mistress says. Obey. Make her happy.

Then she takes away the pain.

Her brat is not important, not to him. Just a means to an end in attaining Mistress' favour. She gave him a command. Bring her back at first light and not a minute later. He'd obeyed. Or at least, he'd tried. The little wretch had tried to fight him and he'd been caught between a rock and a hard place. Because being more forceful in containing the girl or fighting her off might have hurt her and then Mistress would banish him from her woods. Never again would his head receive her sweet medicine.

But Mistress had come to him, once she'd settled her daughter's wailing. She'd said nothing, only looked at him with more sadness in those scorched eyes than he'd ever seen before. It was worse than anger or disappointment. Mistress was wounded, same as him.

Her black tendrils of smoke had pierced his cranium. They'd stopped the ringing and the searing agony. For now. Then she vanished.

His head is fine, as can be. He'd laid down to rest upon his rock and closed his eyes only for-

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Mistress. He needed to find Mistess and ask her for more relief. In his chest, this time, where a strange burning agony bloomed against his ribs, as if the sky fire had returned to smite him once more. A new sound had replaced the ringing in his ears.

I hate you. I hate you. Ihateyou. IhateyouIhateyouIhateyou.

Whimpering, he covers his ears with both paws. The witchling must be sending these messages through her mind because they're louder than memories.

You gave me away.

Ungrateful little cow. Would she have preferred he dragged her to the house? She might do now because her and the spiked collar one would be together. But would she be happier sleeping away from Moonah? Would she be happier without Mistress to fill her heads with fantasies of magic realms and pretty dresses? Would she be better off without a mother who loves her with all the powers of Hell at her disposal?

He'd been trying to tell her that. If only she stopped that incessant giggling then she might be able to listen, even if he can't truly speak. Never learned. Did once, in a sense, in the way his people communicated...but that got lost, along with the memory of his sister's face.

Didn't matter. None of it mattered. The brat could hate him all she wanted. He hated children anyway.

His own were long gone so why should he give shi-

Did you hate every child that wasn't your own? Or am I just broken?

The beast slaps his temple.

Leaf. They'd named him after that which his first tribe had tried to bury him under. Morons. If they'd been trying to suffocate him then they'd done a poor job. If they'd gone for mere exposure why not leave him near a bears den? Perhaps a quick abandonment, a desperate mother. Rogh didn't know. Rogh didn't care.

Riva had rolled her eyes as he'd returned to the cave with the baby gurgling and kicking in her brother's arms, as if he were a boy with a habit for bringing home strays. She didn't even try to dissuade him, especially when he was already beckoning their other children over to meet their new little brother.

One of the elders had spoken up. Food supplies were low at this time of year. Rogh had said he'd give up his rations, both to the child as he grew and to whatever woman could help to nurse him until he's weaned.

He'd asked the elders if they truly would have preferred him just to leave the baby there? Would that have pleased Moonah who had led him to hear the little one's cry?

The elder had just given him a sad smile, then placed a knuckle to his brow.

One day soft heart be Rogh's End.

Thousands of years on, he still didn't know what she meant by that. It no longer mattered. His heart was a heavy, lifeless rock. It neither beat nor felt anything except pain.

And yet three cracks had formed from the child's words.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Argh! He growls and tries to beat his fists on the rock only for them to fall through. He can't even get that relief.

There must be a way to make it stop. Think. Think, dumb creature.

The dancing girl was upset. Upset because the black robed girl hadn't come out to play. He'd sat by the tree, in good view of his charge, watching the girl twirl and call out for over six hours. At one point he'd rested his head on his paws and fought the urge to sleep. Clearly the cloaked one's child wasn't coming. How could he blame her? It wasn't like he enjoyed the giggling brat's company much himself. The other girl was lucky to have a house to hide away in.

When it was time to take the dancing girl home, she'd turned on him as if he were the reason for her failed play date...

The dancing girl thought no one wanted her.

Leaves passed him by in a random gust. A baby cries.

Damn it.

If the dancing girl wanted the black haired girl to cheer up then fine! He'd retrieved her once before, a second time should be easier. This time he just had to remember to watch for the spiky collar.

He creeps his way back towards the East Wing bedroom. There's silence. If she's asleep it will be easier. Especially if her father is too.

Just bring her to the dancing girl. Dancing girl will say she doesn't hate him anymore.

He can rest.

As he passes through the door, he notices that the girl is awake. She's sat on the bed with her hood pulled up. Tears of blood line her puffed cheeks. She's trembling. Trembling as bad as the little ones would in the depths of winter when they struggled with the fire and the darkness seemed inevitable. In her arms she clutches the head of the cloaked one, who seems to be asleep. This will be tricky.

Maybe he can do this without another scene.

The beast shuffles in, moving on his knuckles for support. He grunts.

The girl looks at him. She screams.

Bright liquid gushes from her mouth and drenches her father's head. Humphrey splutters and blinks, startled.

"Amy! Poppet, what is it? Have the guards returned?!"

The girl points a shaky finger in the beast's direction whilst clutching the head closer.

"Oh god. Oh Christ..." The head bit fretted as his eyes fell upon the beast.

The creature gave a roar. This didn't concern the head bit. He just needed the girl.

But the girl was gesticulating her fingers, making some sort of crude signs for her father to understand.

"Took...me....before." the head bit reads and then gasps; "Oh. Oh, my poor girl, why didn't you...." His eyes widened and looked back to the creature; "You. You kidnapped my daughter?! Look what you've done to her! She's scared out of her wits because of whatever you did, you savage beast! Stay back!"

Kidnapped? No, that wasn't...

Okay she was a kid and he'd taken her against her will but only briefly. More of a delivery service. Trafficking? Oh...

He gets it now. There's been a huge mistake.

He shakes his mane and tries to stand, awkwardly, on two legs. Like a man.

It only causes the girl to scream again and run to the corner of the room, huddling down as small as possible and holding the head for dear life. She was absolutely terrified of him.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

"Please...Please, I beg of you. If there's any humanity in....whatever you are," the head bit pleaded, as pale as his child, looking just as fearful; "Don't hurt my little girl. Don't take her away, please..."

Don't hurt. Little girl. Take away.

He hadn't hurt her. He doesn't hurt children. Can't hurt ghosts but...only held very tight. No hurt. No blood, not from her, not that he cause.

And he hadn't taken her, he'd only brought her to Mistress who let her go back anyway, how had...?

The creature looked at them both. Daughter and crippled father, shaking and mewling in the shadow of a monster. Begging and pleading to be left alone.

Once, there had been a cave.

The cave had belonged to a rival tribe. Mean bunch. One time they went quiet and Rogh had been sent out with two others to scout it out, see if they'd left or been attacked. Could be a trap but he'd gone prepared. If there had been something dangerous enough to take out these guys then their own tribe needed to get going.

There had been bodies everywhere. Warriors who Rogh had tangled with before and barely made it out alive after scrapping for hunting grounds. No animal marks. Lots of stab wounds, cuts and smashed bones.

Whatever had slaughtered them had only left one survivor. Or rather two.

"Please. Please no hurt my little girl." A young mother had wept as she crouched in the corner, filthy and covered in blood, clutching her newborn close.

Rogh had given her a smile and crouched before her, placing his club at her feet.

"She bootiful. What name?"

"Nim." The traumatised teenager had uttered.

Rogh stroked the baby's head; "Hello Nim. You and Mama come home with us, yes? Cave much more tidy."

The mother had looked at him with disbelief, then overwhelming joy and relief as he'd helped her to stand. She'd leaned into him and uttered her thanks, over and over, till she passed out from hunger. His fellow hunter had carried her whilst Rogh soothed her baby.

"Mummy just need rest and food. You safe with Rogh, little one." He'd promised.

The creature had nothing to offer the ones who trembled before him now. He's no longer the man who saves little ones from the monsters.

He is the monster.

Before he can try to communicate in some way, to attempt some garbled form of speech from what he'd observed over the years, or sign his words, a pair of arms wrench him off his feet.

He's thrown out the door and into the hall by an impressive bout of strength.

Grizzling, he turns to see what dared to lay hands on him.

A raging body of bloodied red robes stands over him. It stomps its feet and gestures in a threatening manner for him to leave. Now.

The creature snarls. Dancing girl wants the black haired one. He needs to-

The body grabs him by the mane and hurls him out through the wall.

Landing out on the driveway, the creature rubs his head and quickly moves up into a defensive pose. The body exits the house through the same wall and keeps stamping its foot. It's not going to let the creature inside again.

The creature growls. It had glimpsed the cloaked body stumbling around over the years but never had to contend with it himself.

Shouldn't be too hard. He had claws, teeth and twenty years of stone age life working for him. What did this blind and deaf body of some rich fancy man have to beat him?!

"It's all right, Poppet. It's okay."

The creature glances to the window. The girl is watching, holding onto her father's head for dear life.

"He won't let it back in. Don't worry. You're safe with Daddy."

Safe with...

The creature lowers his hackles and claws. He looks at the enraged body. It might not have the skills at his disposal...but it has something that the creature doesn't.

He falls back onto all fours. Even though the body can't see, he dips his head all the same.

Surrender.

Turning, he slumps back to the forest. Half way across the field, he turns and watches the body finally retreat back into the bedroom. He sees the girl approach it, cautious at first, then embraces it, letting it wrap her tight in its cloak. Protect her from the beast.

From him.

A few hours later, after having paced the land enough being tortured by his thoughts, he finds the dancing girl on her bed. She's laying face down, giggling into the flowers. It's not until she raises her head at sound of his movements that he sees she's actually weeping, tears on her cheeks. Same as the dark haired girl.

Both crying because of him.

"If you're looking for Mummy, she said she's gone to do something important." Despite the grin on her face, her words are empty. Devoid of hope and joy.

Broken.

Is it because I'm broken that you didn't want me, she'd asked.

The creature shuffles closer, giving a soft grunt.

Not Mistress who he look for.

The dancing girl sniffles and wipes the blood on her nose with her velvet cuff; "Me? Why d'you want me? Mummy send you to watch me again? Hehehe."

Another grunt and shake of his head. After all these years, despite their....complicated relationship, the girl had learned to understand his grunts and grizzles somewhat. She couldn't see into his mind as intimately as her mother, but she seemed to have learned to grasp his meaning.

And her self-taught ability to see using the sound waves of her laughter was...a little impressive.

The girl's jaw clenched; "I'm sorry I hit you. That was mean. But I won't apologise for what I said. Because it was all true. Wasn't it? You didn't want me. You don't care about me. Let's just be honest about it, yeah? Hahaha...Because I'm sick of everything around me being a pretty lie."

Fair enough. If there was one thing he disagreed with, though never voiced, was how Mistress swaddled her cub in too many sugar coated delusions. She was already blind, why make her even more vulnerable?

Not his business. Not his child. Doesn't care. Shouldn't care.

Yet here he is.

"I don't hate you. That bit wasn't true. I just don't like you very much." She admits. Somehow, that hurts as much as hate. "But I respect you. Because you don't lie to me. You don't treat me like a baby."

That he didn't begrudge his Mistress for, even if she sometimes took it too far. No matter how old children grow, they remain babies when you look at them. Worse for Mistress, because she believed dancing girl was baby that she thought she put in the ground many years ago.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Dancing girl asks.

The creature grunts gently for 'yes'. He inches a little closer to her bed.

"...Whenever I go to dance on the fields...when it looks like I'm laughing...I'm actually crying." She then let's out a giggle, two tears falling; "Don't tell Mummy. She thinks I'm just enjoying her spells and the dresses and worlds she makes for me. And sometimes I am, but...then it wears off...Like the medicine she gives your head. And I know I should call out for her to make it better, but...It's the only place I can be allowed to cry. To feel sad. To be aware of how fucked up this all is...Isn't that silly? Hehehe....Hehehehe."

Crying. She was crying.

All those times he'd watched over her, babysat as her mother had ordered, keeping one eye open as he'd rested nearby and tried to blot out that inane, skull-splitting noise. He'd never really looked at her face. Not once, not enough to see the sparkle of teardrops on her cheeks.

A child...A blind child had cried before him for twenty years...and he'd done nothing.

The memories buried deep within his shattered mind begin to reform.

He doesn't retrieve the baby from the leaves. He leaves it to cry, to choke on the dirt and foliage, to be torn apart by wolves.

He doesn't carry the teen mum and her cub back to his tribe. He roars at them, shakes his club in the frightened girl's face, threatens to smash her teeth out with it if she dares to follow them back and leech off their supplies.

When the kids that don't have his hair and eyes run towards him, little fists reaching out to be scooped up, he thrashes his arm at them and gives them a warning snarl. Stay away. He only has enough love for the ones he's certain are from his seed.

No. His chest tightens. No that's not...That wasn't his life. Wasn't him.

I hate you. I hate you.

His own fists beat at his skull.

"Are you okay?" The dancing girl asks.

Stupid brat. Of course he's not okay.

"Do....Do you want me to call for Mummy?"

Yes. No. He shakes his head. He can bear the pain for a little longer. Mistress has important work to do, important enough to leave her child. More important than him.

The girl shuffles closer to him. She reaches a tentative hand towards him. He flinches, expecting another blow to begin with, then feels her fingers massage his scalp.

That...That's not bad, actually.

"Better?"

He leans into her touch. Then nods. Little bit.

Her smile twitches; "I used to do this to my dog Jess, when we took her to the vets. It was the only time she'd ever get scared."

He grizzles. He hates that comparison.

"She acted like less of a beast than you. She was gentle. She was kind. And she was my best friend. So shut up and be grateful that I'm not leaving you in pain like you always did for me."

That humbles him. He dips his head. He had no idea how bad she...But he'd never cared enough to look.

Easier not to care. Easier not to feel.

Her careful ministrations are almost as magical as her mother's dark powers. The tension eases from his skull and he settles upon her bed. Carefully, not wanting to push his luck, he shuffles closer to her.

"I don't need you to love me. I have Mummy for that. She's probably all I'll ever have. But if...you could just be a little kind to me. If not for me, for her...then I'll try to annoy you less. But most of the time I can't help it. Hahaha, see?! Do you really think I want to be laughing right now?"

No. He can see that. It must be maddening, to be forced to mask how you really feel. And the cub has only been here two decades. Give her another century...Shit. She'll be worse than he is.

He paws at her lap, patting at her stained skirt. Another grizzle. Sorry.

"...I know you understand. Funny. The only ghost who knows what it is to be mad is the one who hates me."

Hate. Hate.

He bumps his head against her arm. He shakes it side to side.

Then he starts to draw with a single claw into her thigh.

N O

H A T E

The dancing girl frowns; "Are...Are you...writing? Y-you can write?"

L I T E L

A N E E

T E E C H

Or rather, she'd taught Mary and he'd poked his nose over her shoulder, curious. And she hadn't shoved him away. Annie had been one of the few ghosts not to fear him. In fact she'd laughed at his attempts to raise his claws at her.

He missed her. So much.

N O T

P U R F E K T

A small giggle; "S'okay. Just try your best. I think I'm getting it."

The creature gently took her hand. It was easier to write the letters into her palm as he'd watched the black haired girl do.

D I D N O T G I V T O M U M

C O S N O W A N T

She looked skeptical at that.

G A V E C O S M E NO C O P E

H E D T O O S O O R

M U M B E T T A F O R M O O N A G U R L

Her cheeks twitched; "Even if that's true...why do you always have to be so mean? Other than Mummy, you're my only friend..."

He nudged his forehead against her shoulder.

F O R G E T H O W B K Y N D

S C A R D L O O S M O O N A G U R L H E R T M O O R I F C A R E

That made her laugh. Truthfully, he thinks. It does feel pathetic now that he's admitted it.

W A S D A D

L O S T B A B Y S. M E N E E.

C A N N O T A G E N.

"I'm sorry. I am sorry you went through that. But you shouldn't take it out on-."

M E N O.

He took a deep breath, grumbling with sorrow lodged in his throat.

S O R E E.

She creased over then, more tears falling despite her giggles. He ignored them now, focusing instead on the pain leaking out from her. Front row seat this time. No way to turn a blind eye unless he wanted to be the wicked beast they thought him to be.

He could tell her that scaring the girl wasn't entirely his fault. His Mistress gave the orders. She gave no instruction to be gentle. Mistress had threatened and terrified the girl too.

But he won't. The girl adores her mother, sees past the smouldering remains to the beauty within. He wont take that away from her, crush the one remaining happiness she has.

Instead, he slowly puts his arm around her shoulders and tries to gesture for her to lay down. She does, miraculously, and he curls himself around her. As a wolf would to his pup.

She is his. His foundling.

He might have rejected being her father, but Mistress has always kept them together, said that she's as much his responsibility as her own.

The dancing girl sobs and shuffles into his fur.

She weeps; "I don't want Mummy to think I'm sad with her. I'm not. I love her. I just..."

He grunts and nuzzles her.

W U N T

F R E N D.

She feels the words he writes into her back this time as he holds her close.

The dancing girl nods.

G O T

M E

She scoffs at that but he huffs, indignant, giving her side a poke to say he means it.

Letting out a sigh, she buries herself in all the pelts of fur, her reaching hands careful to avoid his bleeding claw wounds from the bear.

"Thank you, Mr. Floof."

He rolls his eyes.

R A.

She tilts her head up.

"Ra? What's Ra?"

Bad pronunciation. But as close as he'll probably get. He takes her hand and places it against his chest.

"...You? That's your name? Ra?"

He nods. It will do. Anything other than that stupid nickname.

Resting his chin atop the girl's pink fringe, he closes his eyes, thinking he might be able to finally rest for a bit until Mistress returns from whatever she's doing. The girl has another two nights before she has to sleep, but she seems content to rest in his arms.

No hate. No hate.

She giggles; "You told me your name...Thank you. Ra. Raaa. Hehehe. Don't worry. I'll keep it a secret."

Good. It's not something he let's out to just anyone.

Only Mistress knows and she never speaks it, which is fine. He prefers it to remain something special. Something hidden, kept safe, only shared to those he...

His tribe. His family.