#Because you know no adult is going anywhere near the “demon child” to teach him how to read

[tetraandtheapples]

RghghgrhrRGHRGHR HOW AM I ONLY SEEING THIS NOW UGHHH

Can we have a more in depth look into how you think Dream and Nightmare experience autism and how it affects them?

YESSSSS LETS GOOOOO!!!!

Ok before we start this ramble, I’d like to emphasize how important the time period Dream and Nightmare grew up in, it was a time period in which anything mental health related was immediately connected with “demons” and “possession”

I like to say that the twins are masked Autistics a lot, but in truth, I like to think they both started off without masking their Autism at all, they never saw anything wrong with the way they behaved (cause there indeed wasn’t anything wrong), they were comfortable with who they were and how they behaved, it was their normal in a world that saw it as abnormal, but it was when the villagers started getting in the picture that problems started

Nightmare experiences his Autism through his special interest in learning new things and reading books, hyper empathy, isolation, avoiding eye contact, semi-repulsion to touch if he wasn’t the one to initiate it, understimulation, extreme difficulty in understanding his own emotions (and by extension, difficulty in expressing them), generally being blunt, brutally honest and direct, and selective mutism, Nightmare mostly stims by repeating certain sounds or phrases and humming

Dream experiences his Autism through his special interest in nature (especially flowers), precious stones as well as sewing, difficulty understanding social cues, selective mutism, extreme sensitivity to bright lights (he has a love/hate relationship with the sun) and loud noises, overstimulation, low empathy, and learning difficulties especially when it comes to language, Dream tends to stim by flapping his hands or stomping his feet

Both the twins perfer to follow a routine, however, Nightmare tends to plan his days carefully, and finds any change in his routine extremely distressing to the point it can cause him to experience a meltdown if he couldn’t think of a quick solution

Dream finds a change in his routine distressing too, but his reaction is a bit milder, he tends to get anxious and starts stimming to calm himself down all while he works on a way to get his routine back on track

Speaking of meltdowns, whenever the twins are extremely distressed, Nightmare is more likely to experience a shutdown while Dream is more likely to experience a meltdown, that doesn’t mean the opposite can’t happen sometimes, but it really depends on the situation

Then the villagers came and abused Nightmare into masking his Autism, using his Autistic traits as an excuse to demonize him, made comments about how he must be “possessed”, meanwhile they abused Dream into masking by making sweet tainted mean spirited comments about any behavior he exhibited that felt “abnormal” to them, they’d say things like “honey, it’s rude not to look someone in the eyes when speaking to them” or how he should “use his words” when Dream felt like he couldn’t

Both Nightmare and Dream internalized such comments deeply, and started subconsciously masking their Autism, they were children at the time after all, and especially after the apple incident, Nightmare truly believed he might be a demon or at least possessed by one for centuries after, cause for so long Nightmare couldn’t find a logical explanation in his beloved books for why he behaves the way he does

The word “Autism” never even existed back then, Nightmare spent years of his life researching for any logical explanation only to hit a dead end each time, and now that he’s out in the multiverse seeing how many people don’t really exhibit the same behavior he and his twin do, he was trying desperately to reassure himself that he can’t truly be a “demon” considering Dream exhibits the same “abnormal” behaviors (it rarely made him feel better about himself), even as an adult, the thought of being a “demon” distresses Nightmare so much that he sometimes experiences a meltdown cause of it

Nightmare eventually gives up trying to understand himself and instead starts consciously masking his Autism, he starts forcing himself to look people in the eye when he speaks or spoken to, he stops himself from stimming, he forces himself to speak when he’s overwhelmed, he starts hiding his love for his special interest (he has an entire big library of books yet he’d force himself not to spend most of his time there), he stops isolating himself and forces himself not to avert from anyone touching him, all to appear “normal”, all while it’s physically painful and emotionally draining to him

Same thing with Dream, except Dream never consciously masks, it’s all subconsciously, he forces himself to make eye contact, he stops stimming when people are around, he forces himself to act “normal” when he’s overstimulated, he forces himself to speak even when he feels like he can’t, he hides his special interest and puts on a mask of empathy even when he can’t truly understand/ tune in with the pain or feelings others experience but rather only able to understand their pain in a logical manner (and it makes him feel so damn guilty, cause Dream loves to help people, he thinks that he should be able to feel sad when others do), he pretends to understand social cues when in reality he only mimics how others act in social situations, he blames his learning difficulties on “time constraints” and how he simply doesn’t have the time to sit down and learn

Sometimes both the twins’ masks slip away when they’re extremely overwhelmed, other times, they let their masks slip when they’re alone, and it only adds to their stress cause they feel a sort of fucked up guilt and shame over not acting in a “normal” way, other times it’s a guilty pleasure, they almost reached a point in which they think their Autistic traits are some sort of privilege, punishing themselves if they mess up by not giving themselves the relief of letting the mask slip when alone (like forcing themselves not to stim)

The fucked up truth is, their masks also really impairs them socially, cause sometimes they get anxious thinking about being normal, that it might distract them or cause them to lose track of things

And even when the centuries passed by and science developed and changed and the idea of demonic possession became outdated and mental health became more prominent, and the word “Autism” came to be, neither twins really know they have Autism, neither of them even know what Autism is, Dream doesn’t have the resources to understand what it is, and Nightmare gave up trying to understand himself a long time ago to realize he’s not demonic for it

Will they eventually know about it, understand themselves better and get the support they deserve? It’ll probably take as many years to undo the damage done but I like to believe they do

A kinda part 2

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Melinda with baby Sebastian?

this wasn’t supposed to get so long…

Demon families are rare as anything, and almost exclusively one-parent affairs.

This is true for MELINDA Michaelis and her son, who has taken on no real name because he’s too young to make a contract with someone who would name him. (Maybe when he’s a little older. He’s got to learn sometime; perhaps another year or two will see him making and fulfilling quick, simple contracts so he doesn’t have to wrestle his food away from Reapers trying to fill their quotas.)

Affectionately, Melinda has been calling her son by a nickname ― CORVUS,a simple moniker fashioned from his heritage, meant to identify him from other demon children they might come across and to make it clear when she’s speaking to him. It’s something she can call in a sharp tone to warn him away from something, or say firmly while scolding him, or coo in a dark lullaby as the two of them lie in a makeshift nest.

To her displeasure, her child has been growing increasingly inquisitive lately, especially about the world outside the two of them.

He asks about his father, only to be told that his father wanted nothing to do with him, which is the truth, as far as Melinda is concerned. The raven she mated with wasn’t the slightest bit interested in the fact that their tryst might produce children, and in fact it would have been unusual had he stayed with her long enough to even find out whether or not he had sired a child. She’s glad not to have him around. His too-soft nature would have tainted the way she’s teaching Corvus how to survive.

He asks about the Reapers, curious as to why the two of them can’t just ask to take one of their souls for a meal. “Surely they have so many,” he says, “they could spare one for us to split?” This is perhaps the most frustrating thing he wonders. If he doesn’t understand why a Reaper collects souls, why they wouldn’t give one up to a hungry demon, then she hasn’t imparted into him wisdom yet. He’s nowhere near an adult, but he also isn’t a clueless infant, and he ought to know the answer.

He asks about angels, to tell her that he saw someone dressed entirely in white, that this woman emanated a cloyingly sweet smell accompanied by a bright golden aura that glowed at her fingertips. He tells his mother that the angel smiled at him and called him a poor lowly thing and that her touch was painful on his scalp when she tousled his hair. That is the incident which prompts Melinda to keep a much closer eye on her son; how dare an angel think they can show such blatant disrespect to a being who is easily ten times as strong as they are?

What disturbs her most of all is his apparent fascination with humans. He’s been watching them a lot recently, and he mimics their actions as if he thinks he’s one of them.

Case in point, as they walk past the shops today, Corvus pauses and tugs his mother’s hand. “Mum, may I have a piece of candy?”

“No, you may not,” Melinda huffs as she yanks him past the windows. Whatever human designed these to appeal to a child’s desires, she’s going to find then and consume their soul, because evidently it also works on demon children. “Sweets are for humans. They’ll coat your soul with sugar. Do you want a sugar-coated soul, Corvus?”

The disappointed look on his face suggests that he doesn’t really care about that, but he doesn’t dare argue with his mother. “No.”

“And if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times. You call me Mother,” she adds. “Mum makes you sound like one of those hideous East End urchins.”

“Yes, Mother.” Though clearly not happy about it, he marches along behind her, unsure of where they’re going.

As far as Melinda is concerned, she’d rather not be inside the town’s confines at all. Thankfully, she only needs to be here long enough to locate a suitable soul for their next meal. It should last the two of them a full week if she finds one that’s tormented enough. So she drags her song along behind her, eyes darting anywhere and everywhere as she searches.

After a few minutes of walking, Corvus speaks up again. “Mother, when am I going to learn how to make contracts?”

She doesn’t even spare him a glance. Her tracking has picked up a whiff of a soul that seems absolutely perfect and she needs to stay focused. “Why?”

“Because… you always get our food. I want to be able to help you… because you’re my mother and I love you. You always do everything, so…” He’s started to sound a bit unsure, then follows through with finishing his sentence. “― So I should do something. You deserve a rest.”

“Do I?” Melinda takes a turn, targeting the soul inside of a rather unattractive young man down a particularly empty street. “Perhaps you’ll be ready soon.”

When he next speaks, there’s a tinge of excitement in his voice. “How soon? Tomorrow?”

She snorts softly, and pushes against the side of a building. Such a naive little boy she has on her hands. Maybe she can use that and turn it into actual skill. “In a few weeks, perhaps.”

“So I can hunt like you?”

“Hunt? No.” Her eyes are locked on the soul, making sure he never gets out of her sight. “Only the strongest demons hunt and fight for their souls. You are only a child, and very weak.”

“But Mother, I’m not―”

She holds up a hand, long nails shimmering in front of her child’s face. “Hush, Corvus. Children are weak, even demons like you. In time, you might become strong enough to handle some weak Reapers and hunt occasionally. For now, you must stick to forming contracts in exchange for a soul. Once a contract has been made, it is spiritually binding and Reapers cannot interfere. It’s the safest way to get your meal for someone who is weak.”

Her son takes a deep breath in, then exhales it in a sigh. “I suppose, if it’s how I can help you.”

“Very good, my darling boy.” Melinda shifts her hand to set on top of his head, combing through his dark locks. As she does, it occurs to her that his hair is getting long. She’ll have to take care of that later.

“Now, you just stay put while Mother fetches dinner.”

The child bows his head. “Yes, Mother.”

[ibijau]

it’s Bad timeline time, y’all! Although we’re getting to the people who actually see their fate improve a bit, yay!

He's just a boy, Huaisang thought, staring from a distance.

Of course, he'd always known that Xue Yang was young. He'd heard he wasn't more than sixteen or seventeen at the time of the massacre of the Yueyang Chang Clan, and that would have been years in the future.

As it was, the Sunshot Campaign had just finally ended. It had taken half a year more than it had last time, it had cost many more lives too, but it was over at last. 

The next part of Huaisang's plan was to make sure no conflict could erupt between the Nie sect and the Jin one and... that was going well so far. Most of the problem had come from the Yiling Patriarch's legacy, and Wei Wuxian was too busy running a sect with his sister turned wife to ever think of demonic cultivation, nor would he need to. Jin Guangshan was still capable of creating problems, but Huaisang was getting ready to take care of that too. He had the means, he just needed the occasion.

Without his father's influence, Jin Guangyao would be much less of a threat, so that would be killing two birds with one stone.

Still, while he prepared for his second murder in cold blood, Nie Huaisang had found himself wondering about the person who, in a few years, would have become the catalyst for the divide between Nie Mingjue and Jing Guangyao: Xue Yang.

Without the support of the Jins, Xue Yang wasn't much of a threat. And without the need for demonic cultivators, the Jins would never lower themselves to take in a street rat like him. Still, Huaisang felt slightly guilty that by his fault, a monster like that one remained at large. He knew what Xue Yang was capable of. He'd heard what had happened to the Chang Sect. He'd seen what he had done to Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen. He's witnessed the games he'd played in Yi City.

Huaisang's soul had been blackened this much already. A third murder wouldn't be much. Since he had not learned cultivation yet, it would be easy to kill Xue Yang.

He had arrived in Kuizhou a few days earlier, and set down to work to track the monster. It had been surprisingly easy. A disturbingly smiling youth with a missing finger? There were not many of those, and Xue Yang had never been known for subtlety. Huaisang had had no trouble finding which parts of town he was most active in.

So there he was now, sitting inside a sub-par tavern, staring through a window toward a group of teenagers. Xue Yang was easily the youngest of the group, but already he was rather tall. How old could he be? Twelve, thirteen at most? Perhaps younger, it was hard to say with a face like his. And yet there could be no doubt that this group of older boys was under his thrall. Young, but already good at manipulating people.

Nie Huaisang tore his eyes from the teenagers and took a sip of tea.

He knew he had caused the death of children already. There had been a war, and that war had dragged on longer than necessary. To make it worse, it was only too well known to him how many Wens had died, were dying, would die in the Jin work camps, many of them no more than toddlers. He knew because he'd been there in secret once or twice to try and see if he could find Lan Sizhui, but he'd never discovered the right group of Wens. Too much had changed, Wen Qing's people had been taken to a different place. More deaths to weigh him down.

But none of these children had been directly killed by him. He had killed adults, yes (it was a war, and in fairness they would have killed him too given the chance) and he had murdered Jiang Cheng who had still been so young but... but never a child, never an actual child. He hadn't fallen that low yet. Even a monster had things he wasn't willing to do, especially when he couldn't be sure what Xue Yang would become in the future.

A criminal, certainly, as he already was one and he had no one to put him on a better path. But how dangerous would he be? And who could say he wouldn't make a fateful encounter than would change his ways, leading him to become a good man. He was impossibly clever after all, nearly on the same level as Wei Wuxian. With the right training, the right mindset, Xue Yang could perhaps revolutionise the cultivation world in all the ways Wei Wuxian wouldn't get the chance to.

That train of thought was broken when someone pulled on the chair on the other side of Huaisang's table and sat down across from him.

The boy smiled so widely it revealed an unsettling smile with an empty slot where one canine was still growing.

“I hear you've been asking about me?” Xue Yang asked in a voice that had not yet broken. “I've got to wonder what I've done that they'd send a cultivator after me this time.”

Huaisang maintained a neutral expression, but already he was impressed. He had his sabre with him of course, but aside from that he'd made sure to dress up like an merchant to avoid bringing attention to himself. For most people, changing his clothes and hair was enough. Xue Yang, no matter how young, wasn't most people.

“Are you very used to be chased, then?” Huaisang asked.

He already knew the answer of course. Part of what made it so startling to see Xue Yang was that his reputation was already impressive, and he had always escaped being captured by authorities. He wouldn't be caught by anyone in his life, not until a righteous cultivator dedicated himself to the task, never knowing how much it would cost him.

“I'm used to a lot of things,” Xue Yang replied dismissively, grabbing Huaisang's tea and shamelessly drinking it. He inspected the adult a little longer, and grinned too wickedly for someone who didn't have all his real teeth yet. “You don't look like someone that's going to cause me trouble. So I guess what's happening is you want me to cause trouble for you. Can be arranged. I ask to be paid first though.”

How terrible for a child to already know to make that demand.

“Why do you think I'm a cultivator?” Huaisang inquired.

“Saw your sword when you walked in the street. Normal people don't have one like that. Also, you stopped a moment in front of that old house, the one that's haunted. Most folks just walk faster, but you stopped and you frowned and I bet if you hadn't been more interest in me, you'd have done something about it.”

“You are a very observant boy,” Huaisang noted.

He'd known that about Xue Yang already, of course. He had known a lot about Xue Yang, but it was different from experiencing it. He also took note of the pride that flashed on the boy's face at being complimented, even if Xue Yang tried to hide it. No matter how clever or wicked, any child liked to be acknowledged.

“So, what d'you want me for?” Xue Yang asked, his grin turning greedy. “I can do anything, or I can have it done by someone else. It's easy.”

“Have you ever thought of joining a sect?”

The question startled Xue Yang enough that, for a brief moment, he looked like nothing more than an innocent child. In fairness, Huaisang too felt surprised. This wasn't part of the plan. He was supposed to kill Xue Yang or leave him alone, not... do whatever it was that he was now thinking of.

But of course, plans changed.

“Sects don't take people like me,” Xue Yang protested, nearly pouting in a way that could have been adorable if Huaisang hadn't known what that boy was. “And I'm too old.”

“That's not a no. And some sects take older disciples, as well as people who don't come from cultivating families.”

“Does yours?”

Huaisang hesitated. Qinghe Nie took in anyone as long as they were tough enough. With their founder a butcher, it would have been hypocritical to turn away people because of their birth.

At the same time, he did not want Xue Yang in his sect. First of all, Mingjue would hate that boy so much, as had been proven in their other life. Secondly, the thought of someone like Xue Yang anywhere near Lan Xichen made Huaisang sick to the core. He'd seen and heard what had happened to Xiao Xingchen who like Lan Xichen trusted too easily. He could not take that risk.

What Xue Yang needed was a place that could canalise his wild temperament without stifling it so much he'd run away, and people who could teach him that, actually, human lives other than his own did matter.

Ah.

Well, he'd ruined their lives this much already, what was a little more?

“My sect is not recruiting at the moment,” Huaisang explained with a hand wave. “But I have some friends who are in dire need of disciples. You've heard of the Sunshot Campaign?”

Xue Yang scoffed, as if that weren't even worth answering.

“You might have heard of the Yunmeng Jiang sect too, then.”

From the way his eyes widened, it was obvious Xue Yang had heard of them.

“Listen old man, you're pushing the lie too far!” he protested. “Even kids know that the Jiang sect is this big! What are you going to say next, that you're friend with its leader?”

Huaisang couldn't help a smile. A very clever boy indeed.

“Friend might be pushing it, but I know Jiang Yanli and her husband. I'm from the Nie sect myself.”

Xue Yang's face turned to a mocking grimace.

“You're lying too big again. You don't look anything like a Nie.”

That stung a little more than Huaisang would have expected. He was used to hearing that sort of things, it had been thrown to his face often enough... though mostly in his other life. Since he had fought in the war this time, people were a little more respectful of him. He'd proven his worth as a cultivator, and he was a little less scrawny than he had been when he avoided his sabre... but of course, Xue Yang was right: he'd never look like he belonged in his sect.

“And you're overconfident if you think you can school me,” Huaisang scolded lightly. “Believe me or not, I don't care.”

He rose from his chair. He had seen what he had to see, heard what he needed to hear. Xue Yang was already on his way to becoming the monster he had grown into, in another life, but it might still be stopped. The only question was how to get Wei Wuxian to come in this part of Kuizhou... though for once, trickery might not be the way. He knew Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian. If he told them he had met an orphan who showed promises for cultivation, they'd be interested. They were that sort of people.

He ignored Xue Yang as he made his way out of the tavern, but the boy wasn't done with him. Xue Yang actually ran after him, shouting and grabbing his robe to catch his attention.

“Hey, master Nie, you forgot that,” he announced, showing off a small box. “How much will you give to have it back?”

Huaisang glared, not at the boy but at the box. It had been stupid, a mistake on his end. An old habit that was difficult to shake off.

He always used to buy souvenirs for Xichen when he travelled but... Lan Xichen didn't even live with them yet, wouldn't for some more years, and even when he finally did, he wouldn't want gifts from Huaisang.

“It's just candies,” Huaisang snapped, pulling his robe away from Xue Yang's hand “You can keep them for all I care.”

He started walking again and to his relief, Xue Yang did not try to follow. When Huaisang turned around after a moment, he spotted the boy exactly in the spot where he had left him, greedily digging into the pretty box, gorging himself on the delicate candies. He'd get a stomach ache if he didn't slow down but... that was not Huaisang's concern. Xue Yang could choke on those candies and die, it would be a blessing for the world.

Still, Huaisang was determined that he would try to speak to Wei Wuxian.

He knew about being a boy too clever in a world too cruel. Perhaps, with the right people to guide him, Xue Yang might turn out less monstrous than Huaisang had.

[evolutionsvoid]

It is sad to see how many people have bad feelings towards trolls, including folks who have never even set foot near the habitat they dwell in. Tales and superstition have done everything they can to make these creatures seem like vicious monsters, despite the fact that they are rather peaceful when left alone. Valiant "heroes" seek to protect towns from these beasts (though I suspect most just use that as an excuse for a hunting trophy) and miners complain of how destructive and terrible these "pests" are (ignoring the fact that they were the ones doing the territory invading and home destroying). Hearing all this rubbish and seeing how wonderful these creatures actually are, I have kind of taken it as a personal mission to help their image and spread better information. One of the big things that I think would help people change their mind about trolls is telling them about their sociability and the strength of their family bonds. Though others like to pretend that trolls are destructive loners that seek only malice, they are actually incredibly sociable creatures. As they travel, eat, sleep and look for partners, trolls will always happily take the company of others. The grunts, snorts and bellows they let out to each other may sound crude, but it is a form of communication between them. Even competing bachelor males may take the time to size each other up and get a few playful pushes to see who is the toughest. If such a meeting escalates, they do not go into fisticuffs, rather they perform feats of strength to intimidate the other. The most common is picking up a large boulder and hoisting it high in the air, just like they do when trying to attract females. The one with the heaviest rock wins, and the winner can puff their chest out with pride and let out a cocky snort. Those who do not have families of their own will often travel in groups, both for extra protection and so that they have others to interact with. They may partake in social grooming or playfully bat around rocks with each other for amusement. If something curious is found, the whole group may gather round to check it out and give it inquisitive pokings. While this type of social interaction is leaps and bounds more than some other species, you haven't seen such a bond until you have watched a troll family. When trolls pick a partner during the breeding season, it is often for life. The male and female will rarely leave each others side. This can be seen when the female undergoes the birthing process, as the male will guard her rocky shell with every ounce of his strength. When it comes time for her and her trogling to emerge, he will help crack open the cocoon and protect them as they re-adapt to the outside world. Once one or more troglings are added to the family, they will become inseparable. Mom and Dad will watch over their young and help rear them until they are big and strong. The mother will be the one who provides food for the youngsters most of the time, vomiting up digested rocks into a mushy "slag" that the troglings can eat. The father may provide as well, especially if the female is sick or tired. Both parents will work to teach their young the ways of locating tasty rocks and smashing apart large boulders with their forearms. In some cases, they don't even need to try and form a lesson, as troglings tend to mimic their parents in an utterly adorable manner. When one of the parents is cracking open a chunk of stone with their arms, you can see the young try to copy them using much smaller stones. Lacking the strength of the adults, it becomes somewhat comedic when they try smashing their rock apart with little avail. It is kind of like watching a toddler with a toy hammer try to act like their blacksmith parents! If there is any part of trolls that could warm anyone's heart, it is the troglings. These young ones are absolutely bursting with energy and curiosity, so much so that it can tire me out just watching them! They absolutely love to play and run about, and they especially love to act like their big and strong parents! You should see them when the family is on the move, as the young ones try to imitate the big tough aura of their parents. They will hold their head high, puff their chest out and strut along with comically high steps. It is both hilarious and adorable to watch! When it isn't imitating mom and dad, it is time for play, as troglings never seem to stop moving. They are either knocking a bunch of rocks around, or scampering around their parents or finding something to chase and wrestle. I don't know how the folks keep up with them! Sooner or later they will tucker themselves out, and the folks will carry them on their backs, but it takes forever to reach that stage! When dinner time comes around, the mothers practically have to catch them and hold the squirming little ones until they realize they should eat. It is extra hard to get their attention when they come across another trogling. Be it a sibling or a child from another troll couple, troglings become friends almost instantly and will quickly get down to playing and wrestling. The two latch on to one another and go rolling about as they "fight," letting out playful snorts and barks. They tumble about with such speed and energy that you would be hard pressed to tell the two apart! While this playing is adorable to watch, it is not something I would suggest taking part in. Though they are babies, they are still incredibly strong compared to other species. I once got into a scenario where a trogling thought I was a playmate and it nearly snapped me in half. Their roughhousing and bear hugs are harmless to other troglings, but to the rest of us it is quite the opposite! I think the only species who could really play with a trogling without having their bones crushed would be demons, and even then it would have to be an adult one!

It is strange to say, but if there was any danger to be had from trolls it would come from the curious troglings. I am not saying that they are a menace, and don't you dare think this is fuel for your anti-troll crap! What I am saying is that despite their cuteness and playful nature, one should be mindful to keep their distance from troglings. I say this because adult trolls do not have the energy the young do, and they are not ones to go bounding off towards every little thing. If you were to stroll past a group of adult trolls, they may watch you but they will rarely give chase. The young, however, will go after every point of interest. A marmot dashing amongst the rocks will have troglings scrambling after them, eager to chase and play. Unfortunately, troglings are not accustomed to their strength, and the small critters they catch often wind up crushed. Once again, this is not done out of malice or hate, but it is just young ones not yet grasping the idea of delicacy. That is the reason why one should keep a safe distance from family groups that have troglings, as you have a chance of catching their curiosity and attention. This advice may sound weird, but I suggest you act as boring as possible when you encounter a nearby trogling. Do not run or make any fast movements. Do not show bright colors and make any weird sounds. Try to be slow and dull, so that they don't find you worth checking out. If you somehow do have a trogling bounding towards you, do not run. Instead, go limp and do not make any effort to fight back. They are in a playful mood, and any struggling or fighting will be interpreted as play and they will keep going. If you go prone and do not react, they will hopefully get bored and go back to mom. The one thing to NEVER do, and I mean NEVER, is try to harm or hurt the trogling. Some folk suggest jabbing or hitting them in the eyes or respiratory orifices to scare them off, and it is advice that will land you straight into the grave. The other reason not to tangle with troglings is because mom is incredibly protective of them. Even if she is laying back and chewing on a hunk of slate, her eyes and ears are constantly on her young. The second they get anywhere close to danger, she is bounding after them and scooping them up in her arms. If she hears even the slightest yip of actual pain, she will be on the warpath. You don't know fear until you see an angry troll mom barreling straight towards you! A colleague of mine got to see this protectiveness when he went to tour the mountains. He hired a "guide" (I say this because I am pretty sure this idiot was just looking for some easy coin) to take him out to the plateaus and vistas. When they spotted a troll family, my friend was eager to watch and learn. The "guide" coaxed him into getting closer, boasting about how knowledgeable he was in the field of trolls. As they approached, the young one noticed them and went bouncing over to investigate. My colleague was terrified, but the "guide" told him there was nothing to be afraid of. Mom and dad were busy crushing rocks, and the young ones could be easily scared off. When the trogling got too close for comfort, the man took his sheathed sword and used it to smack the young one right between the eyes. The poor thing let out a frightened yelp and went scrambling back to mom. The "guide" turned to my friend with a smug grin of "see? I know what I am doing" right before a boulder the size of a horse turned him into a red mist. From the story, it sounds like my colleague was inches away from the huge missile as it sailed past and wiped the fool from existence. Turned out mom was watching and she wasn't happy that someone hurt her baby. The tale ends with my friend running for his life as an angry mother pounded her fists against the ground and bellowed louder than the thunder. So if you don't want to be paste, leave the young ones alone and keep your distance! One last thing I wanted to mention is how all trolls interact with their young. While it is easy to see why the mother and father care and protect their troglings with their lives, it is not something they do alone. From what I and many other researchers have seen, it seems that all trolls show a level of kindness and protectiveness towards troglings, even those that do not belong to them. Trolls outside the family group will allow the young ones to run about and even clamber all over them with hardly a complaint. They will even share food with them if the young ones appear hungry. Slag is not something only females produce, as males can regurgitate it too if a trogling needs something to eat. If tragedy occurs and a trogling is orphaned, practically any troll they encounter will take them in and care for them. All females will immediately take a parentless young one, even if they have some of their own. Lone males will even allow them to hang around, feeding them and protecting them until they find a female to pass them off to. So while other species may hold grudges or dissent towards young ones that are not their own, trolls will not follow such rough ideals. No matter what happens, they will stand with one another and will do what they can to help out their kind. A heartwarming thing to think about, I say! Now bring that up the next time someone wants to talk ill about trolls! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian --------------------------------------------------------------------- I love my trolls and have always wanted to draw up what young one would look like. It turned out adorable.    

[hazusreaderinserts]

Legacy [Naruto Reader-Insert]

You’re definitely a Yamanaka, aren’t you?

Family and Village secrets run rampant. All you wanna do is survive long enough to see Naruto become Hokage and to find out who you really are.

[Fem! Reader x Various]

Warnings: Long Plot, Slow-burn, the slowest of burns

Crossposted on Wattpad and Quotev Masterlist

Chapter 5

You quickly walk through the narrow roads to the Uchiha compound. The journey was long and winding but it didn't stop the enthusiasm that you had about the visit. Despite being one of the biggest clans in Konoha, their main residence was much more further away compared to the other big clans. 

But the strange thing is that their clan compound is close to the outer edges of Konoha. Normally all the big clan's would be stuck near the inner circle but not the Uchiha.

The Uchiha Clan is huge. Bigger than your own. You had heard of the stories that they tell of the clan, how it produces elite shinobi, generation after generation. The Hyuuga clan comes a close contender to the Uchiha, but they will insist that they're better. It's all subjective, really. The Byakugan makes it easier to track and figure out enemy weak spots while the Sharingan makes it easier to perceive your enemies' movements? You don't know. You'll check it out in depth later.

You feel jealous. You would have preferred being born in such a clan with a powerful kekkei-genkai. But you play with the cards you were dealt and you didn't get a good draw. You had read about Uchiha Shisui and Uchiha Itachi in a couple of the Intel reports (that were definitely not for you to read) and mission logs stored in your clan's private library. Relics of the Third Shinobi War. The reports, you mean, not the boys.

They are prodigies. One of the elite. Elite even among the elites. E with a capital letter.

Shisui is famous for his shunshin. A war vet. He is said to be so proficient in his technique that it became his title in the bingo books. The reports you read also mentions that his shunshin is so fast that he could produce solid afterimages that he used like shadow clones. He is almost as fast as the Fourth.

Itachi is a war vet too. Experienced war in the front lines at four. Proficient in almost all categories and graduated the first year of academy four months after enrollment at the top of his class. Intelligent and strong, with the experience to prove it.

How is that fair? Facts say Uchiha are genetically superior.

You have always wanted to learn Shunshin to that level of proficiency. And you do. Courtesy of Shisui.

You ambush him on your first visit. He was coincidentally at Itachi's house at the time, just a quick visit to drop off some equipment for him. You take advantage of his kind and trusting nature and he eventually agrees to train you in shunshin techniques, some genjutsu and the basics in kenjutsu. 

You didn't know that he only agreed to teach you because you were persistent. Persistent to the point of using petty manipulation tactics that he is sure is too advanced for a seven year old like you. He's taking a really big gamble, to train you like this.

 The both of you meet after your classes and if he was free for a couple of hours on a daily basis for training.

 Itachi joined the both of you once and you saw them spar against each other. It was safe to say that you were lucky that they were both shinobi of Konoha. You would have been obliterated in a couple of seconds. They moved faster than your eyes could follow and performed feats beyond your wildest imaginations.

This was your fourth-no, fifth time visiting them since these couple of weeks were really busy for Brother and Mother. 

Mother is attending a series of medical jutsu conventions where the heads of all the hospitals in the Land of Fire come together to compare notes about any recent findings or research and the such. They are held on a bi-annual basis.

Having Mother away from home was normal for you. She hasn't been home for longer than three months since your seventh birthday.

Brother is sent to many long missions consecutively. He gets back, rests for barely a day or so, then gets shipped off with Hound, the person that brought him back that time he was drunk. He doesn't tell you Hound's real name of course. ANBU protocol.

Brother doesn't seem to like him that much anymore after all those missions.

No rest for the wicked, Brother says. 

There seems to be some disturbance within the political powers of Konoha itself. Some whispers here and there from the adults in your clan, and you only had the vaguest of information.

But you know for sure that waves of unrest will hit Konoha soon. The Uchiha are starting to grow discontent.

The Uzumaki kid wasn't the the most talked about in town anymore.

Regarding Uzumaki Naruto. To you, he seems like a kid who is looking for attention in the worst ways possible. He pulled pranks on almost all the Sensei, pulled pranks on the Academy principal and you even heard about the time where he pranked the Hokage. You had doubts about the latter, but you don't put it past him to try.

You don't talk to him much but you knew that Shikamaru and Choji invites him to hang out and play ninja with them on occasion. The sight of the Uchiha gates breaks you out of your thoughts. Your lips curl into a smile. You are pretty excited to be here despite the fact that Sasuke hangs around and is generally being a pest. You know that he hates that his brother showed you courtesy since you were his senpai's kid sister. He has a pretty big brother-complex in your eyes, and nothing could change your perception of him.

 You have every intention of teasing him with it in class later.

Class ended pretty fast and you skipped Kunoichi lessons for like the nth time today. Ah well, you'll just tell Ino that you were at Sasuke's house and give her something to squeal about.

You put away your slippers by the porch and made your way further inside, past the dinner table and living room.

" ... A hazard to Konoha and her people.. "

You strain your ears at the sound of a voice but you only manage to catch some words. The doors were thin. Paper thin.

" Father, Hokage-sama let them in for a reason, " A more youthful voice protests. A boy. He continues, "They're in the care of Konoha's best. You shouldn't talk about them that way."

Your throat becomes drier than the dunes of Suna. Were they talking about what you think they were?

 You push closer to the shoji door, as close as you could get without creaking the floorboards that will alert them to your presence. You strain your ears, they don't seem to be talking as loudly anymore.

 " The sword is a wild card and should not be in here with us. The demon child is bad enou-"

 A hand clamps down hard on your shoulder, shocking you out of the focused state that you needed to be in to hear the rest of the conversation. You almost let out a scream. Your heart jumps and you had to will yourself not to make a sound. Both of your hands clamp over your mouth to not make a sound. The skin around the surface of your skin crackles with static as you feel your chakra coils twist and tighten within you.

 Please don't be Sasuke. Please don't be Sasuke. Sasuke will tell on you. Please, please don't be Sasuke.

 You pray to whatever god above that this wouldn't get you into trouble. An odd feeling in your stomach makes you feel like you need to throw up. You don't think you prayed for your life as much as this moment. The idea of being caught eavesdropping in the Uchiha house makes you feel very unsafe.

 The hallway is dark, but you recognize the eyeliner on his eyelids anywhere. A sigh of relief that you didn't know that you were holding escapes from between your lips.

 Bright red eyes stare back at you, his hand still firmly around your right shoulder. The smile dancing on his lips contrasts the hard look he has in his eyes. Hurt festers in your chest when you realize that he has his Sharingan out.

 He places a finger to his lips and single-handedly signs in a language that you didn't recognize. He signs again when you don't respond. The conversation happening behind the paper door dulls. The loud thumping in your heart drowns everything else down. You couldn't hear anything else between the sound of your heart beating against your rib cage and his slow breathing.

 He furrows his eyebrows in annoyance when you realize that you couldn't understand what he is saying and tries again. This time in a language that you do recognize. 

 Hostile? Objective? Shisui gestures with both of his hands faster than your eyes could see under the dim lighting, but you could deduce what he wants to ask you. A language that was developed in the Third War. Brother had taught this to you when you were young. Well, younger than now.

 He is suspicious of you.

 You don't blame him. A stranger enters your household with your best friend and demands you, a famous shinobi, to teach them your strongest non-kekkei-genkai jutsu and you catch them snooping around in said best friend's home. You yourself would be pissed.

 Area. Clear. Canvassing surroundings. Friendly. You fumble a bit with your fingers because of your nervousness but you hope that he can make out what you are trying to say. He searches your eyes for ill-will or anything other than fear but finds none.

 The shoji door shakes and slides open. Shisui drags your body into his arms and shunshin away.  The world melts before your eyes and the colours seem to blur together in a mishmash of blobs. The scenery stabilises and your feet touch the ground. Shisui lets go and you drop to your knees, clutching at the grassy greens beneath your palms. Your pupils were shaking, and it wasn't because of the speed.

 The killing intent that was coming off Shisui made your coils go out of whack. You couldn't get up.

 "You know there's a time and place for everything right, little mouse?" He kneels down on one knee and taps your forehead with his fingers.

 Your pupils were still shaking. Scared. Scared. So scared. Your body doesn't want to obey you. Your arms and back tenses up as you dry heave onto the grass. It was mostly bile, you haven't eaten for the day. Shisui lifts your chin up with a finger and looks into your eyes.

 You don't resist. You couldn't.

 He dispels the genjutsu that you are under and your body sends you a meter away. You reach for the kunai that you hid under your skirt and hold it in front of you in a defensive kata. It was an immediate reaction. Your legs react as soon as you regain control over your physique.

 Your eyes are trained to his figure and he doesn't seem to be following up with an attack.

 Shisui looks at you with a proud expression on his face. You blink twice to check that your eyes weren't playing tricks on you. He shunshins again, closing the gap between the both of you. This time you appreciate the hours and love he put into his famed technique. From the time he used his jutsu, you didn't see him move, only the after-image of his body was left behind. Before you close your eyes to blink. he is standing before you.

 If he were an enemy. Your life would have ended even before you saw him move.

 "You could've killed me." You admit.

 Shisui laughs and places an affectionate hand on your head, "It's good that you can discern your opponent's strength. But next time do something about your chakra when you wanna eavesdrop. It's different from everyone else's you see. Consider this your last lesson."

 You swallow and look towards your feet. What did he mean that your chakra is different? Was it a hint? A warning? But most importantly, what did he mean by last?

 Your chakra control is meager at this point, nobody had taught you how to use any jutsu yet so you didn't see the point of training. You lack knowledge about chakra. Did that mean sensors could sense you no matter where you are in the village? It would make sense. Nobody seemed to care when you didn't turn up for certain classes. Now you know why.

 The fact that you were lacking in so many ways burned bitterly into your brain.

 Both of Shisui's palms cup your cheeks and forces you to meet his gaze. "I'm going to tell you this only once, got it?" He says under his breath, like he was speaking to an accomplice about something that he is plotting. You nod as much as you can in his firm grip. He brings his lips to your right ear and whispers.

 "I'm going to die soon. Someone is going to take my life."

 You grip his wrists. No, you can't let it happen. You can't afford him dying. Was these few months that he had been training you, a waste?

 People don't just tell you that they were going to die out of nowhere. There has to be a reason. Was this a trick? A test? Was he testing you? Your will? Your abilities? To check if you could be trusted with his secrets?

 Someone, he says. Who is this someone? Someone from his clan? Someone close? Someone from higher up?

 "I know that look, little mouse. " Shisui murmurs your nickname dearly. He has never used this intimate tone before. "This can't be helped, I can't change my fate and the fate of my clan. " Emotion swims in his black, black eyes and you feel a knot forming in your throat. His tone is so soft. And so sad.

 "Don't go." You manage to choke out a few words from your uncooperative larynx. "Don't leave me." Your heart feels desolate. Desolate like an empty vessel in a large expanse of water, unable to be filled.

 Shisui shushes you with a finger to your lips. "I'm going to give you something as a farewell gift, okay?" He studies your features closely and adds, "I'll miss you." Like any gift could heal your heart of what was going to happen.

 You sense chakra flaring from him and you see pinwheels in his red eyes. He allows you a moment to take in the situation.

 "Goodbye."

 A gentle brush against your forehead and he is gone.

 The youngest Uchiha boy finds you staring into space with a vacant expression in one of the fields he and Itachi frequent. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks at your curled up form, squatting by the side of a particularly gravelly part of the road. You looked small. Even smaller than usual. Smaller than your nickname reminds him of.

 "Hey, what's wrong?" Sasuke says, after a long silence. He stuffs his arms in his pockets and adjusted his weight to his other leg. He doesn't really know what to do with a girl who seems like she is upset. 

 You wipe your face with the hem of your haori and turn around. Sasuke could see the puffiness of your eyes. He wasn't dumb. He knew you were crying.

 You bite your lower lip, contemplating whether to tell him or not. This is his clan business, he should have the right to know. But you don't think he will believe you. It was Shisui's word against yours and Shisui would win.

 Sasuke's eyes pierces into you. Something in you snaps, and you run. Run as fast as your stubby little legs could carry you. The Uchiha boy says nothing as he follows your figure into the distance with his eyes.

 The sun has set and the cawing crows are echoing in your ears. Like they were laughing at you.

 You go back to an empty home crying your eyes out, as much as your shinobi pride will let you. Regardless of what he said, Shisui has made it clear that he didn't want to see you anymore.

 That night, you dream of Shisui.

 His hair is dark and shaggy like you remember. It had only been less than a day but you want to forget. Forget everything. And just pretend like he never existed. Like he never taught you in the first place. It had been pure luck that he had agreed in the first place. Manipulation was not your forte but you like using it to get what you want.

 ForgetforgetIwanttoforgetgoawaygoawayyoudontmatter.

 The moon is bright and it lights up Konoha's dark streets and he is there by your wooden windowsill. Eyes, well, eye hard and red, red like the blood moon. His left eye is hollow and empty. Just darkness. The way he carries his left hand makes you think he is holding something.

 Shisui is by your bed now. His body looming over yours. His fingers dig deep into your left eye-socket and you let out a blood curdling scream.

 You wake up to nothing of course. Shisui isn't there. Nobody is. Your room is empty. No tracks. No sign of anybody being in here. It is just you, your futon and your sparsely decorated desk by your window. A bitter laugh escapes your lips. Of course you dream of him. You miss him. It's a given. You didn't expect it to be a nightmare though.

 You press your fingers to your cheeks. It's damp.