#Their eyes have a trace of the eye color of the parent/family that affected them most

[theanoninyourinbox]

Sparkpelt and alderheart as feathertail and bramblestar's kits?

For an au uwu

(please please please) SPILL THE AU BEANS PAL IM HUNGRYYYYYY

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

IMAGINE..

《Catlad/Stray x Reader! HEADCANONS》

[ Mini Au at the end/separate: where Reader is Robin, while Tim Drake is Catlad! Miraculous Ladybug sorta vibe. [Vigilante Name]

-

Civilian Tim is a rich boy with neglectful parents, who often stalks Batman. But is found out by Catwoman. So, she strikes up a deal with Tim, where he becomes her little helper and he gets to meet Batman. He readily expects, becoming Catlad.

His parents don't die, but are aren't really present in his life. So Selina becomes his parental figure, she even shows off little pictures of them together when she teams up with Harley and Ivy on occasion.

Catlad Tim is cunning and witty. Often making snide remarks and cat-puns when he's confident.

Civilian Tim is shy, but popular, due to his status and smarts.

-

You smile stupidly as you gaze up at the clouds, lucky enough to make it on the roof of the apartment complex without getting caught. The warmth of the sunset tingling on your skin with the sky being painted in a cotton candy color.

"Well if it isn't Puur-incess! What's got you crawling out from your tower." A cheeky voice calls out, laughing at his own joke.

You roll your eyes, turning your attention to the thief.

"Thinking of my prince charming.." You reply, shoving him playfully.

"Oh..~" He wiggled his arms and made puckered lips. "How can I forgot, you talk about him almost all the time.." Catlad dramatically huffed.

You shrug, "I can't help it. I really like him, he's so-" Before you could rant, the cat themed thief interrupted you.

" "So sweet and nice, he's so handsome and cool! I could gush for hours!" " He mocked, trying to mimic your voice and expressions when you talked about your crush.

"Cut it out!" You yell, managing to put him in a headlock. Messing up his black strands of hair. Your face warm and hot like the sun. Smiling like a idiot.

"I GIVE! I GIVE!" He cried, pushing at your embrace.

You let go as the two of you laugh like lunatics together.

The both of you winding down as you sit together on the stony surface of the apartment building roof.

The sky losing it's pink, becoming a somber lilac..

"He'll be lucky.." Catlad utters out. "To be with someone like you. I m-mean." The sidekick said. Tracing the floor with his claw like gloves, watching you turn to face him. Full of hope, eyes brimming with love.

"You think?" You ask excitedly. Smiling like a fool in love.

"Yeah, your prince charming is probably dreaming to be with someone like you.. I would." He states absent-mindedly.

"Awww, Cat's!" You gush, quickly wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He stiffend at your touch, not used to such positive affection. But he slowly melts in your arms. (He was glad that Catwoman or any other villian wouldn't see him in such a relaxed state.)

"Maybe I should just steal you away.. But then you wouldn't get your happily ever after."

You heard him say, which in turn. Ignore, having gotten used to his flirty remarks. But wince when you felt a sharp pressures on your body.

"Cat's.. Your nails..! There digging into my skin!"

You call to the thief as his claws go deeper into your clothing fabric. He snaps out of it, retracting his claws, but not wanting to fully leave you.

"Sorry! I didn't hurt you, r-right?"

"No! Your good, just, ease up on the grip. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah.."

The two of you soon depart, watching him jump away from roof to roof.

-

[If (Y/N) was Robin Mini Au Headcanon]

You would be some kid that Dick and Jason knew. Before Red Hood and beginning Nightwing era.

Bruce wants to adopt you, but you still have a family. So Robin for you, becomes sorta like a part/full time job.

You aren't as smart as Tim, but make up for it with positive traits that has the whole Batfam love you like a little sibling.

Instead of becoming Red Robin, I would see the reader be called [Vigilante Name]/Luckybird. For the saying, 《The Lucky Bird Catches The Worm!》

Tim crushes on your Alter Ego more than the real you. He doesn't know what's your actual identity even though he knows Batmans.

Tim has considered becoming a vigilante for you.

Has often tried to gain your affections while as Catlad in front of Batman.

-

"Heya Birdy~" Catlad calls out to you, waving the rare artifact him and Catwoman had just stolen.

Batman grunts at the teen, trying to protectively shield you with his large frame. Glaring menacingly at the sidekick from underneath his cowl.

Catwoman smirks at Batman, teasingly talking with her partner in crime. "C'mon kitten, why don't we give the Bats and your Bird a little chase?" She winked at the crime fighting duo.

"On it!" Passing a fake to Selina, the two of the cat themed vilians run off into the night.

-

[Comments and asks appreciated! Thanks for reading! Maybe I'll do another vigilante villian swap again!]

[laninasinamor]

this post is an analysis of a passage in Tenoch's book . it's a lil long. contains sensitive topics. tw: racism, colorism, SA. you have been warned but if you wish to continue, feel free 😊

A PASSAGE FROM TENOCH HUERTA’S “ORGULLO PRIETO” - “BROWN PRIDE” ✊🏾🤎

Translated:

On the other hand, racist acts are not exclusive to white people or the dominant group. We brown people have assimilated the problem and have become victims and perpetrators at the same time.

In fact, when the members of Poder Prieto - a movement that seeks to raise awareness about the influence of racist practices in people's lives - have spoken about the subject, we discovered that many racist attacks that we have suffered throughout our lives they have arisen from our families, from ourselves or from other people also with brown skin.

These are daily micro-discriminations that, when accumulated, affect our moods and the way we live together and understand the world and our society, but also strengthen the monster that we seek to bring down.

Since we were children, our grandparents told us that the goal is to "mejorar la raza"*, our parents reminded us that "they treat you how they see you", our sisters confessed to us "how ugly, your girlfriend looks like a servant", or we blamed her for "look out for the güero* or the güera* from the neighborhood" and we thought that was why they were the most attractive.

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"güero" refers to someone with lighter complexion, white boy

"güera" = white girl

"Mejorar la raza" is a phrase traced back to the early years of colonization in Mexico by the Spanish.

Many Latino families still hear it today.

In English, it translates to "improve the race."

To add context, the Spanish implemented a caste system, a hierarchy of socio-racial classes, in order to keep status and power, centering the social structure around them and their culture on the top.

The highest in the system were Spanish people born in Spain. The lowest in the system were typically those of Indigenous as well as African blood. If you born either or both (Indigenous and/or African), chances are you were probably born in poor conditions and are not considered a full human being with rights.

This is where "improving the race" comes in. It centers around breeding.

The only way to elevate one's social status in the eyes of the caste system was to get married and/or bare children with someone richer in the eyes of society, in this case most commonly white/Spanish men or women. As a result, Mestizos (children with an Indigenous & Spanish parent) or Mulatos (children with an African & Spanish parent) would reap the benefits of having elevated their status by having more Spanish blood.

"Improving the race" has been used by many as an excuse for the rape of Indigenous woman by European colonizers!

These children were also considered more handsome because it erased their Indigenous or African features, replacing them with Eurocentric ones that were considered the epitome of beauty.

This would lead to HUGE resentment over black and brown people and their features.

The Result in Latin America: Harsh colorism!

Bad skin, bad hair, being ugly were associated with African features.

Being a maid, being short, being a hard worker are stereotypes, associated with Indigenous people

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They pit us against each other. That is why if you ask a Mexican who is their greatest enemy, they will respond with "another Mexican."

We have been taught to hate our black/brown skin. The colorist system implemented by our colonizers is what we must try our best in no longer partaking.

We must be okay with not worrying about tanning in the sun, or getting married with someone who is not white.

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shoutout to the Nashuri fam because we strongly are against colorist and racist rhetoric with our pro Indigenous man/Black woman ship! Love you guys! ✊🏾💙

thank you for reading my long ass post :)

[candythepuppy]

Since I do like to dabble a little in the c r i n g e, here's an MHA OC I made for fun.

Note: I am not a professional artist. So everything here was traced. I just adjusted a few things and colored it in.

Zeya / "Z"

- age 16

- female (though she easily passes as gender neutral and has been to known to fake being a boy to get in/out of trouble)

- eye color is brown, though she likes wearing red colored contacts

- tried and failed forming a villain group to rival The League of Villains

- bilingual, bisexual, ambidextrous, ambivert (generally very torn and often confused)

- has been caught smuggling Trigger (and other substances)

- orphaned only child

- was Mineta's gf for a lil bit (they mostly just pranked people together)

- walks up to any naturally white/silver haired man "are YOU my father?"

- got into UA by literally blackmailing the school with stolen personal information (attends class 1B)

- sleeps in trash cans. wears fancy clothes.

- habitual liar (only trust 1/3rd the things she says)

- will hiss at you for touching her garbage

- ADHD/Dyslexia rep!

QUIRK: "Reverse Reverse!"

She can infinitely reverse time as far back to when she last slept.

Since this quirk does not reset the vitality of her mind, if she resets too many times and for too long, she will pass out of sleep deprivation or suffer other symptoms.

If under high stress, she can create time loops; depending on the level of stress, she can even drag those she touches into the time loops with her. They will repeat the same day over and over again no matter whether she dies or not. And it only ends when she either calms down or it reaches a pre-set amount of days looped.

Under the affects of Trigger, she can use a move that only affects those she touches, giving her the ability to loop someone's day infinitely until they literally go insane. However, using this move is insanely dangerous for her mental health, as she still has to watch them suffer from afar, but just sped up.

Because her quirk does not handle well in close combat, she prioritizes using her quirk to run away from situations. She is better fit as the strategist of a team than an actual fighter. Though, she is very acrobatic and if forced to fight, can usually survive long enough for someone to come and help her out.

For the sake of street smarts, she often lies about what her quirk is and how it functions, leading to a lot of confusion.

She can use her quirk to "predict" her opponents' moves, hence her quirk often being confused with Night Eye's.

Backstory

Her mother was from a mixed family living in America, who, after the deaths of her parents, abandoned her two younger siblings to move to Japan: the home country of her mother before marriage. While her younger brother and sister grew to hate but also worry for her, Zeya's mother lived however she wanted for a whole year.

That all ended, however, when Zeya's mother (Deserae, age 20) got pregnant after a night out with too many drinks. This changed her life completely. It took having a child to finally snap the woman out of her selfishness and mature enough to take care of the little girl.

The mother Zeya knew was infinitely loving. The best mother she could ever wish for, even. The two lived humbly in an apartment, Deserae trapped in Japan for the time-being until she could fork up enough money to all the debts she owed. But, she had plans to move back to America, where she would return to her younger siblings and raise them properly, both of whom were many years younger than her, with her daughter. It was Deserae who inspired Zeya to want to become a hero in the first place.

Everything backfired, however, on a simple day to a random car crash. Zeya was four, and it was on that day that her quirk was forcibly awakened. Zeya repeated the morning over and over again, trying to prevent the car crash. She, only a little girl, had to watch her mom die over and over again...until she simply couldn't take it anymore. Zeya gave up eventually and crawled free from the crashed car. Severe guilt fueling her, she ran away, feeling like she was the one responsible for her mom's death, and that the heroes would come after her now and throw her in jail.

She lived on the streets for quite some time, only cared after by the occasional thief or stranger. Her quirk helped her to avoid most trouble, though her tendency to steal and cause mischief did get her into quite a bit of trouble with the local Yakuza. For the most part, though, she grew up seeing a more human side of villains than most. Until eventually, her childhood dream to be a hero instead shifted into a desire to become a great villain.

The great shift happened when she had fallen so deep into crime, she thought nothing much of attempting to kidnap a UA hero student. Unfortunately for her, the attempt only worked partially, and she ended up tht one taken in for failing. She realized here just how far she had fallen. And just how messed up her morals were. So..she was shocked to see the heroes actually break in and save her. There were others too, but still. She was eternally grateful for the second chance.

Too bad her moral compass was damaged beyond measure, because, now a little late to attempt to join a hero school normally, stole secret information and blackmailed UA with it. They reluctantly allowed her to become a student, but it took several months and a plethora more villain attacks before anyone could dare trust her. Didn't help that she was the most dishonest/somehow also brutally honest person in the world!

Luckily, she just so happened to have a Hero aunt, who moved to Japan long long ago just to find her.

Personality

Brash, a button pusher, charismatic - in an annoying way, and all-around obnoxious person to be around, Zeya is almost impossible to befriend. However, a lot of that is just an act. A barrier to keep people away. To the few who managed to become her friends, she is insanely loyal and clingy to a fault. Will literally die a thousand times over for whoever manages to befriend her. And she expects the same level of dedication from them as well.

When in her comfort zone, which is rare, Zeya is oddly very easy going. She's very confident in her abilities, knows her limits, and likes to dabble some in the creative arts, which for her is editing together cringe compilations or dubbing scenes from low budget movies with friends. In this state, other than making a few sarcastic remarks, she is a far easier person to hang out with than her usual persona. But it is also so different from how she usually acts that it causes a lot of whiplash in the people who witness her like this.

Her love language also consists of teasing and prodding people verbally, but handing them random gifts or offering them expensive snacks or clothing for no apparent reason. She isn't a snuggler, but will happily fight you for your attention. (She gets along surprisingly well with Bakugo.)

All-in-all, she is a very chaotic, amoral lass who would do anything for her friends.

[dojimakaichou]

SENT FROM @stingslikeabee​​​​​​​ ―         ( Daigo’s birthday 2023 / accepting )

The day of Daigo’s birthday was always eventful around the Addams’ home; with the passing of each year, the rituals grew longer and more chaotic as the children got older and started procuring their own gifts for their father, banking on their specific abilities to please their adored parent. Kazuya started the festivities with a song - a tune of his own, composed in the privacy of his bedroom and which he had not shared with anyone else (but for his mother) and which sought to emulate the environment of Kamurocho. Next, Yayoi showed Daigo a move that she had created from scratch for her MMA classes, tentatively named ‘Daigo Solution’ (a working title) and which involved applying pressure to certain vital points of the body in a way that evoked the impact of a bullet. Hikari came next - her culinary gifts were used for an incredible elaborate cake, using most of her dad's favorite ingredients (with her own grandmother helping in spirit, whenever necessary) and the top of the dessert illustrating one of his favorite kills, strawberry syrup used with abandon to emulate the blood spatters that were akin to art under the assassin’s hands. Edgar was the first one who bought his father something - a very ornate and expensive-looking cigarette case, fashioned out of silver, and which was supposed to have belonged to a hitman under the employment of the famous mobsters of the prohibition era (a claim that was likely false, but Edgar’s smile was incredibly cute while handing Daigo the present). The girls had a joint gift - as every other year. This time, it was a beautiful tapestry, depicting a graveyard under the moonlight and with two figures kneeling on the ground over a surprising bundle - a homage to the very evening where Daigo and Melissa had found the triplets and decided to adopt them. Osamu finished it off with a project of his own - a scrapbook filled with a lot of news articles and printouts associated to jobs that the hitman had carried during his life... And which were never traced to his name. The only reason that the youngest of the spiderlings knew of these was because the tales of Daigo’s former work life tended to be his favorite bedtime stories. Melissa watched the exchanges with a fond look on her honey-colored eyes, heart impossibly tight for the show of affection and dedication of her children. With the exception of some assistance here and there, they had managed the gifts on their own, somehow combining their personalities with something that would be meaningful to their beloved father. Oh, she was proud - the witch had raised these little monsters perfectly, and it was also due to Daigo’s parenting skills in no small amount. It was only late at night, when they were both alone, that the brunette chose to disclose her own present for her husband and soulmate. Melissa had been sitting at the vanity in their suite, brushing her long hair - and then paused when Daigo walked behind her, beckoning him over and linking their hands over a shoulder, conversing with the man through their reflections on the mirror. “I haven’t yet given you my gift, anata,” she tested the Japanese word on her tongue; in addition to the French that she had always favored with family, Melissa had been trying to learn some basic Japanese with the aid of Yayoi (both of them). Smirking with barely contained mischief, the witch elaborated, “Your brother is currently handling the affairs of this collector who passed recently - you may have heard of him; he was focused on torture devices. He has a guillotine that was actually manufactured at the time of the French Revolution.” Her voice was colored with excitement then; the pressure on Daigo’s digits increased as she narrated the other antiques the man possessed, as well as the actual dungeons built and a few other clever additions, “Well, I have managed to secure a weekend at his estate while Gomez works on the legal documents. Two days away - our siblings have agreed to come check on the girls if necessary, so have Shun and Azumi. We are cleared to go and explore each and every of his prized trophies ourselves, my love.” It was only then that the witch placed the brush used for her hair down, and turned around on the seat, facing Daigo. The woman picked up his hands with hers, enjoying their warmth as she always did, and inhaling deeply before kissing the back of his beautifully skilled and blood-stained digits in a reverse of the gesture he usually bestowed her with. Melissa then looked up at him, eyes filled with love and undying devotion to the assassin in the room with her. “Two days of old fashioned torture, just the two of us. I hope it is to your liking, chéri - you deserve the most beautiful screams for your birthday.”

★. ―

Daigo stretched leisurely as he stepped back into their grand home. The gray - colored sky and thick snow outside were his favorite weather, and he had gone out to enjoy shooting blanks in the crisp morning air. His pistols’ muffled noises in the snowy landscape made the assassin grin every time. Daigo sat gingerly and started to remove his boots. Halfway through the process of unlacing them, he gathered that someone else was in the room. Watching.

          As the king of the castle looked up, its princess beamed with pride. Her pink - colored lips curved into a smile. “Hello, Hikki - chan,” Daigo said, raising a brow.

          Hikari extended her hand for her father to take. “C’mon  ―  we’re all ready for you.”

          Though there were clearly questions on his tongue, the assassin got to his feet. He used to table to help him up : it was no secret that the cold made his poor, battered joints ache ( but he loved it too much to stay inside where it was warm ). Hikari waited patiently for his coarse digits to wrap around hers. She took him into the sitting room, where the rest of their family was waiting.

          Daigo grinned as soon as he crossed the threshold. His children stopped their various conversations ( and preparations ) in order to welcome the Addams patriarch. The assassin squeezed Hikari’s hand and sat beside his wife on the couch. He slipped his arm around Melissa’s waist, drew her into his side, and kissed her in greeting.

          “How did you get even more beautiful since this morning?” he breathed lovingly after, a bit of pink on his cheeks.

          Melissa leaned into her husband. “Our spiderlings have gifts for you,” she murmured, lips brushing his cheek. With a pleasant hum, she redirect her beloved’s attention back to the room at large. 

          Kazuya took that as his invitation to begin the festivities. Daigo nestled into the sofa with Melissa as their beautiful and numerous family started to honor their father. Some of the displays required Daigo’s participation ( such as Yayoi’s, who could only call on him in her search for a sparring partner that would not be afraid of her ), and he joined in enthusiastically at every request. His love for them shone in his wide, crooked smile and shining dark eyes.

          By the end of the affair, the father’s cheeks were wet. He scrubbed at them obstinately with the back of his hand, clearly moved by his children’s thoughtfulness. Melissa’s fingers rubbed soothing circles into the assassin’s arm. Their spiderlings exchanged proud looks. Daigo was the sort of man who claimed to have everything. The best gifts for him, their mother taught them early, were the ones that simply showed how much they loved him ; Daigo’s tears were a sign that their fond message made it through.

          After a moment, he cleared his throat and stood. Daigo laughed brightly at the sudden rush of his daughters, who hugged him readily. Edgar joined in, as well. Kazuya and Osamu hung back, opting instead to pat Daigo’s arms affectionately. The assassin sighed gratefully into the dark hair of one of the girls. He loved their family  ―  more than anything in this life or the next. 

          The next few hours were a delightful blur. With the taste of strawberries on his tongue, Daigo pulled a cigarette from his new case. He watched their home’s ghostly residents hang the girls’ tapestry in the main hall with their other important pieces of art and framed photographs. Inevitably, he was welcomed into the kitchen by his wife with the promise of chocolate. She stole his half - finished smoke for herself, kissed his lips, and gave him a generous slice of the sickeningly sweet dessert. Daigo chuckled and moved away to eat with their spiderlings.

          Soon, everyone drifted off to sleep or rest. The assassin followed Melissa into their suite to get ready for the night. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and promptly stripped out of his clothing. Daigo stretched, mindful of old scars that pinched with the cool, dry air of the season, before he returned to the main room. He moved toward the large bed at the center with the intention of turning down the blankets for them ; as he went, however, the witch silently asked him to pause. Daigo complied without question.

          As he listened to Melissa describe her present for him  .    .    .  it was impossible to hide his excitement. Daigo tried to imagine the score of fantastic devices that would be at their disposal, but he was sure what he thought was even less than what reality had to offer. A collector of that measure surely possessed pieces they never enjoyed prior, too.  ―  and, of course, his wife was entirely prepared. The assassin’s only worry would have been their precious girls, who did so poorly when their parents were away from them.

          Daigo inhaled sharply at the sight of Melissa kissing his hands. Long strands of hair slipped over his shoulders as his head tilted to the side. As the witch finished her gesture, Daigo sank to one knee ( not unlike the pose he once used to ask her to be his forever ). He gazed at her, awe - struck, fingers turned to clutch her own. 

          “I love it, Melissa,” Daigo said softly. With an additional squeeze of her hands, he released her digits and instead snaked his arms loosely around her perfect figure. Time seemed unable to touch her dark beauty. “You know me so well. I can’t wait to see what horrors we face in those walls. A pity that we can’t invite death inside of it  .    .    .  the triplets’ black hearts would shatter.” 

          He smiled as a bit of delicious red coloring pooled at the top of his cheeks. “Would you care to practice now, darling?”

[newtwithinternet]

Cringe tIC wyrm

needed to start talking about my ocs one day and this one was mentioned recently, so, i guess,

here is Jafar the wyrm - the lad, created by throwing trauma at the wall and looking what sticks (and definitely not by copypasting murtagh). His lore is very inconsistent tbh (due to him initially being an isekai si's dragon and me not being strong enough to cut remaining parts of this backstory off even for the sake of better rounded character). His current canon-ish version is set during the order's restoration era.

It's hard to recall any personal facts about the Nameless ones for sure, including family relations, but with Jafar the eldunarya and scholars are quite sure both of his parents were dragons of the Forsworn, even if this is hard to tell, which ones in particular (Kialandi's dragon is the best guess to be his father, but even this assumption is made by him and his ebrithilar based on scale color). This confidence, though confirmed eventually by remains of the accounts from Vroengard, initially comes from his inheritance.

You see, Jafar is completely cut off from the ancient shared memory of the dragons.

In my shaky headcanon system, this memory is formed by minds of ancient dragons, blending with magic, filling the land of Alagaesia, as the dragons pass away. The access to the memory is granted to those, who the remnants of ancient dragons perceive as akin to them - usually determined by species, blood and long lines of continual succession. And Jafar? Despite being very clearly a dragon, he is perceived by this magic as completely alien. It doesn't recognize him as a dragon, part of the land's living blood, because it'can't trace, where - who - he comes from, and therefore it doesn't grant him the dragon heritage. Due to this he actually struggles to connect to his own kind, especially the Unbound (aka Wild) ones, as he doesn't understand wtf they're talking about and struggles to read their body language, while they find his mannerisms and his way of thinking annoyingly biped-like (sinse he's got them from his Shur'tugal's mind, rather than his dragon memory) and his thoughts shallow. His identity as flesn and blood of oathbreakers being a common knowledge certainly doesn't help with building profound relationships either (in fact, him being a bonded dragon under Saphira and Eragon's protection is probably what keeps him alive and whole more, than his own fire and talons). The lack of memory also makes it hard for him to get a grasp on some of his more basic instincts (e.g. hunting).

With all the troubles he sometimes regrets he hasn't hatched, when his parents were alive, so he could take part in their deaths. (Very rarely, very deeply he also regrets he hadn't hatched when they still had names, so he could look them in the eye and ask why the fuck they did what they did. He would do anything to belong in the land and the sky, to be a part of a thunder - they had all this and yet ripped it until there was nothing left. Just how are they blood). (His Shur'tugal has some ideas - let's say that it's good that traits Jafar's got from his parents haven't got a chance to flourish so far).

Other stuff about him:

named himself after a fictional character he projects onto HARD*

he and his Shur'tugal have a strong mutual dislike that started due to a misuderstanding both were traumatized by the consequences of. Neither really is to blame, both understand it, but they still can't stand each other.

over time gets surprisingly good (re: manages to catch the right mood in approximately 20% of attempts) with wonderwork** - the semi-conscious magic of the dragons (comes from his attempts to understand, how the ancient memory magic works)

has an analytical mind and enjoys human and dwarven engineering a weird normal amount

he actually doesn't have any self-doubt due to his bloodline. bad luck, injustice (the elders should have thought, how the banishment of names would affect the children of the Nameless!), he didn't deserve this and definitely is nothing like them he totally wouldn't have burned the world for the sake of fame and standing out if he didn't manage to get those in more constructive ways and if his current status didn't force the bar to get lower

most lessons for young dragons that aren't run by Saphira are run by Glaedr. Jafar has personal mentor for these. Leg chopping reasons (Glaedr, being ancient and therefore calmer and wiser than young dragons, actually tries to be fair to him, but it's hard when touching minds for long).

at one point as a hatchling got lost in a steppe near his Shur'tugal's home settlement (the misunderstanding consequence), had a few fights with local predators (his fighting instincts being shit), has a mild agoraphobia since then (as nowhere to hide=disaster). It's about as easy to manage as a huge adult dragon as you may think. (Would he and Thorn be best buddies or sworn rivals due to this factor?..)

*said character is from an actual book i've read

**i like making up extra names for things that exist in canon and don't need extra names

[rainywerewolfmoon]

Tales of Fairyland

Ao3 link here Tales Of Fairyland - Chapter 2 - Princessmh9 - Original Work [Archive of Our Own]

Chapter 2: Seven Stars Later

{As the sun's rays filtered through the sheer curtains of the chambers of Ash and Genevieve, they cast a soft, golden glow on the room's lavender walls, illuminating the delicate paintings of flowers and butterflies that adorned them. Ash, with his misty silver blond hair and emerald-green eyes, lay with his head nestled against Genevieve's chest. Genevieve, with her long, flowing auburn hair and eyes the color of sapphires, held Ash close, her fingers gently tracing patterns on his back. Their love was a beacon of light in Fairyland, a testament to the power of love and friendship that bound its inhabitants together.

The chamber itself was a cozy haven, filled with the comforting scent of wildflowers and the soothing sounds of a nearby babbling brook. The bed, adorned with soft, silk sheets, seemed to embrace the couple, cradling them in a cocoon of warmth and love. Outside their chambers the castle bustled with the servants going about doing their duties. Genevieve slowly opened her eyes and smiled as she looked at Ash with a soft smile.

{Genevieve whispering} Good morning my handsome Prince.

{Ash stirred, his emerald-green eyes fluttering open as he gazed up at Genevieve. His heart swelled with love as he saw the soft glow of morning light caressing her face.}

{Ash his voice filled with warmth and affection.} Good morning, my dearest Genevieve.

{He leaned in to press a tender kiss on her lips, a kiss that spoke of a love that was as timeless as Fairyland itself. As they held each other close, the world outside their chambers continued to awaken. The sounds of laughter and the aroma of a delicious breakfast wafted in from the castle's kitchens. It was a day like any other in Fairyland, yet Ash and Genevieve could feel that something extraordinary was about to unfold, something that would change the course of their lives and the destiny of Fairyland itself.

The sounds of their chamber doors opening made them break the kiss as a bundle of excited energy bounced onto the bed in the form of their seven-star-old daughter, Elara. Elara had massive wild sunset-colored curls that tumbled around her like a cascade of fiery silk. She possessed her mother's stunning sapphire eyes, which sparkled with curiosity and wonder, but had her father's pointed elf ears and a mischievous smile that mirrored Ash's. With an exuberant giggle, Elara flung herself between her parents, her little arms wrapping around them in a tight, loving embrace. Her laughter was like music, a melody that brought joy to the hearts of all who heard it. Elara beamed at her parents' words, her excitement undiminished.}

{Elara} Good morning, Mama and Papa.

{Ash ruffled her sunset-colored curls with a gentle smile.}

{Ash} Good morning, my little star.

{Genevieve, ever the nurturing mother, couldn't help but notice Elara's boundless energy.}

{Genevieve} You seem to be filled with energy today, my love.

{Elara nodded vigorously.}

{Elara} Yes, Mama! Willow and Aurora are waiting for me by the stables. We are going to the Whispering Stream. We're going to have so much fun!

{Ash and Genevieve exchanged another glance, their hearts filled with both pride and concern for their adventurous daughter.}

{Ash his tone warm and reassuring} That sounds like a wonderful idea. Just promise your mother and me that you'll be careful and come home at sunset, okay? We want to hear all about your adventures.

{Elara nodded solemnly, her bright eyes reflecting her understanding.}

{Elara} I promise, Papa. I'll be careful, and I'll come home before the sun goes to sleep.

{With a loving hug from both her parents, Elara was off to join her friends for a day of enchanting exploration along the Whispering Stream, leaving behind a room filled with the warmth of family and the promise of new adventures in Fairyland. Genevieve turns her head to look at Ash.}

{Genevieve's voice carried a hint of nostalgia} She's growing up so fast, love.

{Ash nodded, a mixture of pride and wistfulness in his eyes.}

{Ash} Yes, she is. It seems like just yesterday she was a tiny bundle in our arms.

{Genevieve nodded in agreement, her smile reflecting the relief and joy of a mother whose child had found true friends.}

{Genevieve} Yes, it warms my heart to see how well she gets along with Prince Willow and Princess Aurora. Their friendship is a treasure.

{Ash} It's important for her to have friends who share her sense of adventure and curiosity. They make a wonderful trio, exploring the wonders of Fairyland together.

{The bond between Elara, Prince Willow, and Princess Aurora was a source of comfort for Genevieve and Ash. In a world where friendships were as magical as the land itself, they knew that these childhood companionships would shape their daughter's life in beautiful and profound ways.}

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

{Elara, dressed in a vibrant ensemble of soft greens and blues, looked every bit the spirited adventurer she was. Her dress flowed like a cascade of leaves, adorned with delicate embroidered patterns that seemed to dance in the sunlight. Around her waist, a sash of shimmering silver sparkled, matching the twinkle in her eyes. Her wild sunset-colored curls were gathered into a loose braid, adorned with flowers that seemed to have been plucked straight from the meadows of Fairyland. A pair of dainty, leather-bound boots adorned her feet, ready to carry her on countless adventures.

With a satchel slung over her shoulder, containing all the necessities for a day of exploration, Elara exuded an air of excitement and confidence. She was a picture of youthful vitality, ready to embrace the wonders that awaited her by the Whispering Stream.

As Elara bounded into the stable yards, she was greeted by the sight of King Oberon and Queen Titania's twin children, Prince Willow and Princess Aurora. Both were nine stars old and dressed in attire befitting their royal lineage.

Prince Willow was dressed in a forest-green tunic adorned with intricate golden embroidery that depicted leaves and vines. His trousers were of a deep brown, and he wore leather boots that were both stylish and practical for their adventures. A small crown of leaves and twigs rested atop his auburn hair, signifying his status as a prince of Fairyland.

Princess Aurora, with her flowing golden hair, wore a dress as brilliant as the morning sun. The bodice was adorned with tiny sparkling gems that seemed to shimmer like stars. Her skirt, the color of a summer sky, flowed gracefully around her. She, too, wore dainty leather boots, and a tiara of delicate flowers graced her head, adding a touch of regal charm to her ensemble. The twins' attire reflected the natural beauty and elegance of Fairyland, with a touch of royal splendor. As they saw Elara approaching, their faces lit up with excitement, and they waved to her.}

{Willow} Elara! We're so ready for our adventure today!

{Aurora} Yes, we've been waiting for you. Let's make today's adventure the most magical one yet!

{Hanner, the dwarf and head groom of the royal stables, had chosen three magnificent horses for the young adventurers. Each steed had a unique beauty and personality, perfectly suited for the magical journeys that awaited them in Fairyland. Sunfire, the golden-colored Arabian, stood tall and proud, her coat shimmering like molten gold in the sunlight. Her deep, soulful brown eyes held a wisdom that seemed beyond her years. Sunfire's reputation for speed and grace made her the ideal companion for adventures in the enchanting realm.

Silvermist, the dappled gray Filly, was a vision of elegance and tranquility. Her silver and white coat resembled moonlight dancing on water, and her gentle disposition made her a beloved friend to many riders. She carried a legacy as the daughter of Steel, the mighty stallion ridden by Kendra, the head guard and leader of the royal horses.

Miracle, the sleek midnight-black filly, exuded an air of power and mystery. Her glossy coat seemed to absorb the very essence of the night, and her eyes held a quiet wisdom that belied her spirited nature. Miracle was the daughter of Shadow, a stallion who was half kelpie and half normal horse, and who was the beloved mount of Genevieve, Elara's mother. Hanner, with a warm and knowing smile, presented the horses to the young royals.}

{Hanner with a respectful nod.} Prince Willow, Sunfire is for you. Princess Aurora, you have Silvermist, and Princess Elara, Miracle is for you.

{Prince Willow approached Sunfire with a sense of wonder, his eyes filled with admiration for the magnificent Arabian. He gently stroked her golden mane, forming an instant connection with the spirited mare. Princess Aurora, a picture of grace, stepped closer to Silvermist, and the dappled gray Andalusian Filly nuzzled her hand affectionately. Their bond was already evident in their shared gentleness and serenity.

Elara couldn't hide her excitement as she stood before Miracle, the sleek, midnight-black Friesian filly. She patted her new friend's glossy coat, feeling an immediate kinship with the spirited horse. Hanner watched with satisfaction as the young royals established a connection with their chosen steeds. It was a heartwarming sight, a testament to the special bond between the people of Fairyland and the magical creatures that inhabited their world.

{Hanner his voice filled with warmth and encouragement.} May your adventures today be filled with joy and wonder, my young friends. Sunfire, Silvermist, and Miracle will be your steadfast companions on this journey through our beloved Fairyland.

{With that, the trio of young adventurers mounted their horses, their hearts brimming with excitement.}

{Willow with excitement} Come on. I race you.

{Aurora} You're on brother.

{Elara} Bet you can't out race me.

{They nudge their horses into a gallop as they gallop out of the stable yards with laughter and excitement for the day.}

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{In the darkness of the Shadow Court, Queen Nocturnia sat on her ominous throne, her eyes closed in an eerie tranquility. The very air around her seemed to pulse with darkness and malevolence. The throne room was shadowy and foreboding, a stark contrast to the vibrant and enchanting world of Fairyland. In the center of the room, a table stood, and upon it, a crystal ball. The ball was a conduit to secrets and shadows, a window into the mystical and the unknown. It swirled with a dense mist, its surface like a pool of inky blackness.

As Queen Nocturnia rested her eyes, the mist inside the crystal ball began to shift and take form. It coalesced into an image of the three young royals—Prince Willow, Princess Aurora, and Princess Elara—galloping through the meadows of Fairyland. Their laughter, pure and infectious, filled the dark and silent throne room. Nocturnia's eyes snapped open at the sound of that laughter. She slowly stood up, her expression changing from one of stoic darkness to one of curiosity and intrigue. Her long, ebony robes rustled as she descended from her throne and approached the crystal ball. With wide eyes filled with fascination, she gazed into the swirling mist, which now displayed a vivid and heartwarming scene of the young royals on their carefree adventure. Elara, her own “daughter”, was among them. Nocturnia couldn't help but smile in delight at the sight of the child's innocence and joy.

Elara was out with the "annoying twins" of Oberon and Titania, and this time, it seemed, they were without guards or Kendra, the head guard. Nocturnia's eyes glittered with a sinister light as she realized the potential significance of this revelation. The dark queen watched with rapt attention, her fingers lightly touching the surface of the crystal ball. The image of the children played out before her, a tempting opportunity for getting free of the Shadows before her. As Nocturnia continued to watch the enchanting scene unfolding in the crystal ball, a sly grin tugged at the corners of her lips. This unexpected turn of events presented her with a golden opportunity to break free from the Shadows, if only for a short while.

As she contemplated her plan, the heavy doors of the Throne Room creaked open, revealing the tall, imposing figure of her husband, King Sablethorn. He entered with a measured gait, his dark robes billowing behind him, and his piercing eyes fixed on his queen. Sablethorn's presence brought an air of cold authority to the room, a stark contrast to the delicate magic emanating from the crystal ball. He surveyed the room, his gaze eventually settling on Nocturnia and the scene playing out before her.}

{Sablethorn his voice carrying the weight of centuries spent in the Shadow Court.} What has caught your attention so thoroughly, my queen?

{Nocturnia turned to face him, her expression a mask of composed regality.}

{Nocturnia her tone dripping with intrigue} A fascinating revelation, my king. Our dear Starlessia is out in Fairyland, accompanied by none other than the young royals, without the burden of guards or Kendra to shadow their every move.

{Sablethorn's eyes narrowed, the implications of this information not lost on him. He stepped closer to the crystal ball, studying the scene with an intensity that matched Nocturnia's.}

{Nocturnia her voice laced with a dangerous excitement.} This could be our chance, Sablethorn. A moment of vulnerability for the future rulers of Fairyland. We could use it to our advantage.

{Sablethorn's gaze remained fixed on the crystal ball. After a prolonged silence, he finally spoke, his voice low and calculated.}

{Sablethorn} It is a risk, Nocturnia. But it is also an opportunity we cannot afford to ignore.

{The dark king and queen stood side by side, their eyes locked on the swirling mist within the crystal ball, plotting a course that could alter the fate of Fairyland and the Shadows forever.}

...................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

{In the serene and enchanting setting of the Whispering Stream, beneath the shade of ancient willows, tall pines, and delicate birch trees, the three young royals—Prince Willow, Princess Aurora, and Princess Elara—were immersed in the magic of nature. They had ventured to the stream's edge, the babbling water reflecting the dappled sunlight that filtered through the leaves. It was a place of wonder and mystery, where the melody of the stream blended with the laughter of the young adventurers. Prince Willow, mischievous as ever, had plucked a frog from the water's edge. He held it up triumphantly, a gleam in his eye as he teased his sister, Aurora.}

{Willow with a playful grin.} Hey, sis! Look what I got! Go on, kiss it.

{Aurora, her face contorted in disgust, recoiled at the idea.} Ewwww. No.

{But Willow was undeterred. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he decided to chase his sister, frog in hand, laughing as they darted through the trees and along the stream's edge. Elara, watched the lively chase with delight, her laughter joining theirs as they weaved through the enchanting landscape. Their carefree play and innocent laughter echoed through the Whispering Stream, a reminder of the beauty and simplicity of youth in the heart of Fairyland. Little did they know that their adventures would soon take an unexpected turn, as shadows lurked just beyond the sunlight, waiting to cast their pall over the day. Amidst the joyful chaos, Aurora's laughter rang out, a delightful mix of amusement and exasperation.}

{Aurora her voice filled with playful desperation.} Elara, save me from my brother!

{Elara, always ready to be the peacemaker, dashed toward the duo, her eyes shining with mirth. She reached out and took Willow's hand, gently prying the frog away.}

{Elara} Come on, Willow, let your sister catch her breath. We're here to have fun, not scare each other.

{Willow, still grinning, relented, and the trio paused by the stream, their laughter gradually subsiding. Elara, with a gentle touch, placed her hands on the frog, and with a soft motion, she released it onto a nearby lily pad. The frog, now free from their playful antics, sat there serenely, its webbed feet resting on the delicate green surface. Elara's eyes sparkled with affection as she looked at the amphibious guest.}

{Elara her voice filled with warmth} There you go, Mr. Frog. Enjoy your sunbath on the lily pad.

{With the frog now peacefully basking in the sunlight, the young royals and their friend settled down by the stream, the gentle babble of water and the whispering of the trees providing a soothing backdrop to their shared moments of joy and wonder. Elara reached into her satchel and pulled out a small, ornate wooden box. It was intricately carved with delicate patterns of flowers and butterflies, a testament to the craftsmanship of Fairyland's artisans.

With a careful and reverent touch, she opened the box, revealing a collection of colorful stones and crystals. Each gem seemed to shimmer with its own inner light, casting prismatic reflections that danced in the sunlight. Aurora and Willow leaned in, their curiosity piqued.}

{Aurora her eyes wide with fascination.} What's that, Elara?

{Elara's smile was infectious}

{Elara pointing to a sparkling blue crystal} These are magical stones that my mother gave me. She said they hold the power of the elements of Fairyland. This one represents the waters of the Whispering Stream. And this, {touching a radiant green stone} is for the lush meadows and forests were my father came from. And this fiery red one {she say holding up a shimmering gem} symbolizes the spirit of adventure in our hearts.

{The young royals were enchanted by the beauty and significance of the magical stones. They reached out to touch them, feeling the subtle energy that emanated from each one. As they sat by the stream, Elara began to tell stories of her mother's adventures in Fairyland, tales of bravery, friendship, and the enduring magic of their realm. The stones glowed brighter with each story, as if the very land itself was responding to the warmth of their shared memories.}

{Willow} Your mother has been like an Aunt to us since we were babies. You are very lucky to have her as a mother.

{Elara} And your very lucky to have Queen Titania and King Oberon as your parents as well Willow.

{Aurora} We are both lucky we are.

{As Miracle, Silvermist, and Sunfire grazed peacefully nearby, they suddenly sensed something amiss in the tranquil forest. Miracle, with her keen instincts, looked up from her grazing and let out a snort, her dark eyes filled with a sense of alertness. The young royals and Elara, attuned to their trusty steeds' signals, turned their attention to the horses. Willow and Aurora exchanged a knowing glance, and Elara felt a sense of unease settle in her heart.

Their eyes followed the horses' gaze as a figure in a hooded cloak stepped out of the dense forest. The figure moved with an eerie silence, its form shrouded in mystery and darkness. The hood obscured the person's face, making it impossible to discern their identity. The children huddled together, a sense of caution washing over them. The figure's approach toward the Whispering Stream sent a warning signal through the forest, as if the very trees and creatures were whispering their concern. With the sunlight dappling the clearing and the gentle murmur of the stream in the background, the scene took on an eerie and tense atmosphere. The young royals and Elara watched, their senses on high alert, as the hooded figure drew closer, their hearts filled with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

As the hooded figure drew nearer to the Whispering Stream, the tension in the clearing grew palpable. The young royals and Elara huddled closer together, their eyes fixed on the mysterious newcomer, their hearts filled with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. The figure's footsteps were almost soundless, and the hood concealed their identity completely. The children could feel an unsettling energy radiating from this stranger, as if a dark shadow clung to them. Miracle, Silvermist, and Sunfire, sensing the unease in their young riders, took a few cautious steps closer, their ears pricked and their nostrils flaring. These loyal steeds were ready to protect their charges at a moment's notice.

The Whispering Stream, which had previously been a source of serenity, now seemed to murmur with a hint of foreboding, as if it too sensed the change in the atmosphere.}

{Aurora, her voice steady but filled with caution} Who are you? What brings you to this part of Fairyland?

{The hooded figure paused by the stream, their intent obscured by the shadows. For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the gentle flow of the water and the rustling of leaves in the forest. Then, in a voice tinged with an enigmatic quality, the figure replied.}

{Figure} Your Highness, please I am just a simple old fairy who wants to give to give the three young royals a gift each.

{The children hesitated, torn between their instincts of caution and the possibility of a kind gesture. Elara, always inclined toward empathy, stepped forward slightly, her gaze fixed on the figure.}

{Elara her voice still gentle yet tinged with wariness} What kind of gifts?

{The hooded figure, maintaining their disguise, reached beneath their cloak and produced a small, intricately woven basket. With deliberate care, they set the basket on the ground before the young royals and Elara. The air was filled with an eerie anticipation as they slowly lifted the lid.}

{The figure, their voice a mixture of mystery and intrigue} For you, Prince Willow, I give you... {They paused, their eyes glittering with an unsettling light as they revealed the first gift.} An amulet.

{She then pulls it out as its producing a dark, foreboding pendant from the basket. The amulet seemed to absorb the light around it, casting an eerie glow. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the moonless night sky, its surface etched with cryptic symbols.}

{Aurora, her eyes filled with concern, whispered to Willow}

{Aurora whispering} Be careful, brother.

{Willow, guided by a mixture of curiosity and caution, stepped forward with measured steps. He extended his hand to accept the amulet, the weight of its presence settling in his palm. Its surface felt cool to the touch, and as he held it, he couldn't shake the feeling that this gift carried something dark and forbodding.}

{Figure} For you Princess Aurora I give you.. {They paused, their hooded gaze fixed on the princess, their intent obscured by the shadows.} This elixir.

{Aurora's heart skipped a beat as the figure produced a small, ornate vial containing the emerald-hued elixir. Its contents pulsed with a malevolent energy, casting a haunting glow that seemed to draw her in even as it filled her with apprehension.

{Princess Aurora, her heart filled with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, approached the hooded figure with measured steps. Her hand extended cautiously to accept the vial containing the emerald-hued elixir. As her fingers closed around the small, ornate container, a surge of emotions washed over her. The elixir felt cool to the touch, its mesmerizing glow casting an eerie light on her hand. It seemed to pulse with an unsettling energy, and Aurora couldn't shake the feeling that this gift carried a heavy significance, one that she was only beginning to grasp. The hooded figure observed her with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. The figure then looked at Elara.}

{Figure} And for you Princess Elara, I have something very special for you.

{Princess Elara reached into the hooded figure's basket, her fingers searching within its depths. With a sense of anticipation and curiosity, she carefully withdrew an item that awaited her. To her surprise, she found herself holding a hairbrush. It was no ordinary hairbrush; it was ornate and exquisite, its handle adorned with intricate designs that glistened with a soft, ethereal glow. The bristles appeared to be made of the finest materials, as if woven from strands of moonlight. Elara examined the hairbrush in her hand, her eyes filled with wonder. It was a beautiful and delicate object, unlike anything she had ever seen. She couldn't help but be captivated by its otherworldly beauty.

The forest, which had held its breath in anticipation, seemed to release a sigh of relief as Elara received this unexpected gift. The Whispering Stream's gentle murmur continued, as if blessing this moment with its soothing presence. Elara's companions watched in fascination, their initial apprehension giving way to a sense of intrigue. The hairbrush, though seemingly ordinary in nature, carried an air of enchantment that left them wondering about its true significance. Elara, holding the ornate hairbrush in her hand, looked up with gratitude to thank the hooded figure who had bestowed this mysterious gift upon her. However, to her surprise and astonishment, the figure had vanished without a trace. The clearing around them was now empty, the hooded figure's presence fading like a wisp of smoke. There was no sign of where they had gone or how they had disappeared so suddenly. Willow, still holding the ominous amulet he had received, looked puzzled as he questioned Elara about the nature of her gift.}

{Willow his curiosity mirroring Elara} Why did she give you a hairbrush, Elara?

{Elara, still examining the beautiful yet enigmatic hairbrush in her hand}

{Elara with uncertainty} I don't know.

{As they pondered the mysterious gifts they had received, a gasp escaped Elara's lips as she suddenly realized the passing of time. She looked up at the darkening sky, its colors shifting towards the hues of twilight.}

{Elara in shock} "Oh no, it's nearly sunset. My Papa is going to kill me.

{The realization that they had lost track of time and that they needed to return home quickly filled them with a sense of urgency. As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, they knew they had to make their way back to the safety of their castle before nightfall. Without wasting a moment, they scrambled onto their horses—Sunfire for Prince Willow, Silvermist for Princess Aurora, and Miracle for Elara. The magnificent steeds, sensing the urgency in their riders, were swift and sure-footed. With a gallop that seemed to echo through the forest, they set off, their hearts filled with determination. The trees blurred past them, and the Whispering Stream rushed alongside, a constant companion on their journey.

Despite their horses' swift pace and their determination to reach the safety of their castle before nightfall, the young royals and Elara soon came to a sobering realization—they wouldn't make it back home in time. The sun continued its descent, casting long shadows through the forest, and the sky began to shift into the deepening hues of twilight. It was clear that the darkness of night was approaching more quickly than they could outrun. As the first stars began to twinkle in the evening sky, the young royals and Elara raced through the town of Enchanted Woods, their horses thundering along the winding paths as they desperately tried to reach the safety of the castle.

Elara, her frustration evident, couldn't contain her anger at the predicament they found themselves in. The fading light and the growing darkness only added to their urgency. They clattered into the stable yards, where Hanner, the head groom, was waiting to receive the horses. Elara wasted no time; she dismounted from her horse before the twins and raced across the yard, her heart pounding with anxiety. She made her way to the royal gardens, taking a shortcut through the servants' back door, hoping to reach her room without being detected by her parents. The tension in the air was palpable as she moved with haste through the dimly lit corridors. However, just as she neared her room, a collision sent her stumbling backward. She had collided with Ash, her father. Ash looks at her with crossed arms and raised eyebrows.}

{Ash} And what time do you call this Elara?

{Elara, her heart pounding with a mixture of guilt and trepidation, looked up at her father, Ash. His concern for her was evident in his eyes, but there was also an unmistakable note of sternness in his voice. She knew she would have to explain herself and face the consequences of her actions.}

{Elara her voice filled with regret.} I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to be late.

{Ash sighed, his arms crossed and his eyebrows raised, as he listened to Elara's apology. His love for her was unwavering, but as a responsible Prince and father, he knew the importance of instilling discipline.}

{Ash his voice carrying both guidance and authority.} Elara, as a Princess, and one day a future Queen, you need to be on time. A Princess is never late.

{Elara looked at the ground, absorbing her father's words. She understood the weight of her royal responsibilities, and she knew that punctuality was one of the many expectations she would need to meet. Ash's sigh was filled with both understanding and love as he looked at his young daughter, Elara. He couldn't help but smile softly at her, his heart melting at her innocence and eagerness to please.}

{Ash} Well, since you're only seven stars old, I could let this one-time slide by unnoticed.

{Elara's eyes lit up with delight at her father's words, but before she could respond, Ash held a finger to his lips, signaling for her to remain quiet. His expression remained gentle but firm as he continued.}

{Ash his voice filled with warmth} But I want you to promise me, that you'll practice being on time. Can you promise me that, Little Star?

{Elara nodded eagerly, her eyes shining with sincerity.}

{Elara her young voice filled with determination} Yes, Papa. I promise to practice being on time.

{Ash's smile grew even warmer as he knelt down and enveloped his daughter in a loving hug. His embrace was filled with a deep and unconditional love that only a father could provide.}

{Ash his words carrying the weight of a father's love and devotion.} I love you, Little Star.

{Elara, wrapped in her father's arms, felt a sense of comfort and security that only her father could provide. In this tender moment, the bond between them was reaffirmed, and the lessons learned on this eventful day were tempered with the knowledge that love and understanding would always guide their path in the enchanting realm of Fairyland.}

{Ash} Come on. Your Mama is waiting in your bedroom.

{Elara nodded with a mixture of relief and excitement. Hand in hand with her father, Elara made her way to her bedroom. Her bedroom was once her nursery. The room was a vision of enchantment, adorned with soft pastel colors that seemed to dance in the gentle glow of the room's crystal chandelier. Delicate, ethereal curtains framed the large windows, allowing soft moonlight to filter in during the nighttime hours.

The walls were adorned with murals of magical creatures and scenes from Fairyland, painted with love and care by skilled artists. A comfortable, canopy-covered bed was positioned in the center of the room, its silk sheets adorned with intricate embroidery. Stuffed animals and plush toys lined the shelves, watching over the room like loyal guardians. A cozy reading nook nestled in one corner, complete with a plush armchair and a collection of fairy tales. Nearby, a small play area held an assortment of toys and games that Elara had loved since her childhood. Genevieve, with her radiant smile, turned her head away from the window as Ash and Elara entered the room. Her presence seemed to light up the room, and her eyes sparkled with warmth and playfulness.}

{Genevieve playfully} I see you found our wayward daughter Ash.

{Elara's heart swelled with happiness as she rushed into her mother's open arms, feeling the reassuring embrace of her parents and the love that surrounded her in their enchanting world.}

{Elara} Mama.

{Genevieve picked up her daughter, holding her close in a warm and loving embrace. Ash joined in, wrapping his arms around them both, their familial bond strong and unbreakable. Love and pride shone in Ash's eyes as he held his wife and daughter close.}

{Genevieve} Did you have a good day Little Star?

{Elara nestled against her mother, feeling the warmth and comfort of their embrace. She gazed up at Genevieve with a radiant smile.}

{Elara with enthusiasm} Yes, Mama. It was an exciting day. We went to the Whispering Stream with Prince Willow and Princess Aurora. I even got a special gift.

{Ash's curiosity was piqued as he listened to his daughter, Elara, mention the special gift she had received during her adventurous day by the Whispering Stream. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with intrigue, and he leaned in closer, eager to hear more.}

{Ash his voice filled with anticipation.} Oh, what kind of special gift did you receive, Little Star?

{Elara, with a sense of excitement and anticipation, reached for her satchel as her mother gently put her down. Her small fingers rummaged inside the bag until she found what she was looking for. With a triumphant smile, Elara pulled out the hairbrush, the same gift she had received earlier in the day from the mysterious hooded figure by the Whispering Stream. The hairbrush gleamed with an otherworldly charm, its presence seeming to cast a soft, enchanting glow in the room.}

{Elara with enthusiasm, holding up the hairbrush for Ash to see.} Look, Papa. This is the special gift I received. It's a hairbrush. But it feels magical, and I don't know why.

{Genevieve and Ash exchanged a knowing look as Genevieve gently took the hairbrush from Elara's hands and examined it closely. The hairbrush, with its intricate design and otherworldly charm, held their fascination.}

{Genevieve her eyes filled with curiosity.} It is a pretty hairbrush. Elara, who gave you this? Do you know who the mysterious gift-giver was?

{Elara looked thoughtful for a moment, her young mind trying to recall the encounter with the hooded figure by the Whispering Stream. She shook her head slightly, her auburn curls bouncing.}

{Elara with a hint of uncertainty.} No, Mama. The figure was hooded, and they didn't say their name. They just said it was a gift for each of us.

{Ash's expression shifted from curiosity to astonishment as he heard Elara mention that each of them had received a similar gift. His emerald-green eyes widened with surprise, and he exchanged a glance with Genevieve.}

{Ash in disbelief} Each of you? Are you saying that Willow and Aurora have received gifts like this as well?

{Elara nodding} Yes Papa.

{Ash and Genevieve exchanged another meaningful glance, their parental concern mingling with curiosity.}

{Elara} Mama?

{Genevieve} Yes Little Star?

{Elara} Can your brush my hair with my new hair brush please?

{Elara's request was filled with innocence and warmth as she turned to her mother, Genevieve, with a hopeful look in her sapphire eyes. Her auburn hair cascaded around her shoulders, and she held up the special hairbrush, eager to experience its magic. Genevieve smiled lovingly at her daughter, her heart touched by the simple request. She knew that brushing Elara's hair was a cherished ritual they shared, a moment of bonding and tenderness.}

{Genevieve with gentle affection.} Of course, Little Star. I would love to brush your hair with your new hairbrush.

{Genevieve picked up her daughter, Elara, cradling her in her arms with a loving smile. She then settled Elara down onto the bed, ensuring her comfort and ease. With tender care, she began to brush Elara's auburn hair, her motions soft and gentle. As the hairbrush glided through Elara's locks, a soothing rhythm filled the room. The bond between mother and daughter grew even stronger with each stroke, a connection that transcended the enchanted realm of Fairyland. In this tender moment of shared love and care, Elara closed her eyes, savoring the comforting feeling of her mother's touch.

As Genevieve continued to brush Elara's hair with soft and gentle strokes, a sense of tranquility filled the room. The bond between mother and daughter was palpable, an unspoken connection that transcended words and filled their hearts with love and comfort. Elara relaxed into her mother's touch, her sapphire eyes closed as she savored the soothing sensation of the hairbrush gliding through her auburn locks. In this serene moment, the worries and mysteries of the day seemed to fade away, replaced by the pure and simple joy of their shared bond. After a while, Genevieve carefully set the brush aside, the soothing ritual of hair-brushing complete. Ash, stepped forward to help with the bedtime routine. He pulled back the covers of their daughter's bed, revealing the soft, silk sheets that cradled her each night. With a contented sigh, Elara crawled into bed, her eyes heavy with the weight of the day's adventures. She nestled under the covers, feeling the warmth and comfort of her bed enveloping her like a cocoon of love.

Ash walked over to the shelves adorned with plush toys, each one holding a special place in Elara's heart. These toys had been her companions, confidants, and playmates throughout her childhood in the enchanting realm of Fairyland. He gazed at the array of stuffed animals, each with its unique personality and charm. Some were whimsical creatures from the magical forests, while others were endearing companions from her favorite fairy tales. As he took in the sight of the plush toys, memories of Elara's laughter and imagination filled his heart. Each toy represented a different chapter in their daughter's life, a testament to her growth and the love they had shared as a family. Amidst the array of plush toys, one caught Ash's eye—a cuddly unicorn with a golden horn and a flowing mane of rainbow colors. The unicorn had been a favorite of Elara's for as long as he could remember, a symbol of the magic and wonder that filled their lives in Fairyland. Ash carefully picked up the unicorn, feeling its softness in his hands. It was a toy that had shared countless adventures with Elara, from tea parties in the royal gardens to bedtime stories under the starlit sky. Its presence was a constant source of comfort and joy for their daughter.

Ash's smile remained as he returned to the bedside, the cuddly unicorn held out for Elara. He knew how much this plush companion meant to their daughter, and he wanted to ensure that it was part of her comfort and joy as she settled in for the night.}

{Ash whispering softly} Here you go, Little Star.

{She takes the unicorn from him and snuggles further into the bed as Genevieve lights the nightlight for her as she starts to sing a lullaby that Titania taught her.}

{Genevieve singing} Now the Women of the Sidhe, They are in a timeless space, They are in the heather and in the meadow, And they sing uniquely. They have a board on the back of the seal, And their food on the tip of the dog's tooth, Their womb on the slope of the rock, And they sing joyfully. They are in the storm and in the chamber, They are in the fairy hills and in the grass, They are on the tops of the high mountains, And they sing melodiously. They go with the big gentle wind, They go with the sun, They play with the whelps, And they sing playfully. They are in the storm and in the chamber, They are in the fairy hills and in the grass, They are on the tops of the high mountains, And they sing harmoniously.

{Elara, snuggled in her bed with her beloved unicorn by her side, listened to her mother's sweet lullaby. Her sapphire eyes began to droop as the enchanting melody wrapped around her like a warm embrace. The lullaby spoke of the fairy women, the Mnà-Sìth, and their timeless existence in the mystical realms of Fairyland. As the song reached its gentle conclusion, Genevieve and Ash leaned in to kiss their daughter on the forehead, whispering soft goodnight wishes. With a sense of contentment, they sneaked out of the room, leaving Elara to her dreams. In the quiet of the night, the room seemed to hold the enchantment of Fairyland itself, where love, magic, and dreams intertwined to create a world of wonder and beauty.}

[all-regarding-dogs]

American Bulldog Pitbull Mix: Energetic & Affectionate!

Are you curious about the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix? This delightful hybrid dog breed has been gaining popularity among dog enthusiasts and families looking for a loyal and affectionate companion. Whether you're considering adopting one or simply intrigued by this unique blend, you've come to the right place. In this article, we'll explore the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix's fascinating world and provide valuable insights into their characteristics, care, and why they make fantastic pets. The American Bulldog Pitbull Mix, also known as the Bullypit or Pit Bulldog, is the result of crossbreeding the American Bulldog and the Pitbull. These two breeds combine to create a captivating mix of qualities that dog lovers find irresistible. People searching for information about this hybrid breed often seek answers about their temperament, appearance, health, and how they fit into a family setting. The allure of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix lies not only in its physical characteristics but also in its endearing personality traits. This breed possesses a unique combination of loyalty, affection, and intelligence, making them exceptional companions and family pets. They have an innate ability to form strong bonds with their owners and are known for their protective instincts. Throughout this article, we'll delve into the various aspects of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix, providing you with easy-to-understand information that will help you better understand its unique qualities. We'll explore their physical appearance, delve into their temperament and personality traits, discuss their health considerations, guide care and nutrition, and offer insights into training and socialization. So, whether you're a dog lover looking for a new addition to your family or simply interested in learning more about this captivating breed, join us as we unravel the wonders of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. Get ready to discover why these energetic and affectionate hybrids have captured the hearts of many dog enthusiasts worldwide. CharacteristicInformationBreed NameAmerican Bulldog Pitbull MixSizeMediumWeightVaries, typically between 60-120 poundsHeightVaries, typically between 20-28 inches at the shoulderLifespan10-14 yearsTemperamentFriendly, loyal, playfulCoat TypeCan vary, short to medium in lengthCoat Colors and PatternsVarious colors and patterns, including brindle, fawn, black, and moreDistinctive FeaturesExpressive eyes, charming faceHealth ConcernsPotential genetic health issues from parent breeds; regular veterinary care is importantFeeding RequirementsHigh-quality dog food, appropriate portion sizes, 2-3 meals per dayExercise NeedsModerate to high; regular exercise and mental stimulation are importantGrooming NeedsRegular brushing, occasional bathing, and attention to oral hygieneTrainingPositive reinforcement training is effective; early socialization is importantLiving ConditionsRequires a safe and stimulating environment; a medium to large-sized fenced yard is beneficialAmerican Bulldog Pitbull Mix

Origins and History

Let's journey back to uncover the origins and captivating history of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. To truly understand this hybrid breed, we must first explore the rich backgrounds of its parent breeds, the American Bulldog and the Pitbull.

American Bulldog The American Bulldog is a descendant of the English Bulldog, brought to America by European immigrants. Originally used for various farm tasks, such as herding cattle and guarding property, the American Bulldog became a versatile working dog. These sturdy and muscular canines possess an admirable combination of strength, agility, and loyalty.

Pitbull dog On the other hand, the Pitbull, also known as the American Pit Bull Terrier, traces its lineage back to the United Kingdom. Initially bred for bull-baiting and later for dog fighting, Pitbulls were known for their tenacity, courage, and high pain tolerance. However, it is important to note that modern Pitbulls have distanced themselves from their historical reputation and have become cherished family pets known for their affectionate nature. The American Bulldog and the Pitbull crossbreeding resulted in the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. This hybrid combines the desirable traits of both parent breeds. The motivations behind this crossbreeding were diverse. Breeders aimed to create a loyal and protective companion with the Bulldog's strength and the Pitbull's athleticism. Additionally, the combination aimed to produce a dog with a gentle and affectionate temperament, making them suitable for families. By blending the genetic heritage of the American Bulldog and the Pitbull, breeders sought to create a versatile and well-rounded canine companion. The American Bulldog Pitbull Mix has quickly garnered attention and has become popular for individuals and families seeking a devoted and loving pet. As we move forward in this article, we will explore the unique characteristics and qualities this hybrid breed inherits from its parent breeds. Understanding the origins and motivations behind the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix allows us to appreciate the intriguing blend of traits that make them such remarkable companions. Also Read : The Unforgettable American Bulldog Border Collie Mix.

Physical Characteristics and Appearance

American Bulldog and the Pitbull Prepare to be captivated by the striking physical characteristics and unique appearance of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. As a crossbreed between the American Bulldog and the Pitbull, this hybrid exhibits a delightful blend of features that make them unique. American Bulldog Pitbull Mix Size The size of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix can vary, influenced by the individual genetics of the parent breeds. On average, they fall into the medium to large size range. Males typically stand between 20 and 28 inches (51 to 71 cm) tall at the shoulder, while females are slightly shorter. In terms of weight, adult American Bulldog Pitbull Mixes typically range from 60 to 120 pounds (27 to 54 kg). American Bulldog Pitbull Mix Coat Color and Texture Regarding coat color, the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix showcases many possibilities. Their coat can come in shades, including brindle, white, black, fawn, brown, or a combination of these colors. Some may even display unique markings, such as patches or spots. The coat is typically short and dense, providing protection and ease of grooming. American Bulldog Pitbull Mix Body Structure The American Bulldog Pitbull Mix possesses a well-muscled and athletic body. They exhibit a strong and sturdy build inherited from their American Bulldog parent, with a deep chest, broad shoulders, and a muscular neck. Their head is broad, showcasing a powerful jawline, and may exhibit variations in shape, reflecting the characteristics of both parent breeds. Their eyes are generally expressive and round, while their ears can be medium-sized and may be floppy or semi-erect. Variations Due to the genetic diversity inherited from the parent breeds, there can be variations within the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. Some individuals may lean more towards the Bulldog side, showcasing a larger head and a heavier frame. Others may display more Pitbull-like characteristics, with a more streamlined physique and a narrower head. These variations contribute to the uniqueness and charm of this hybrid breed. It's important to remember that individual American Bulldog Pitbull Mixes can have a distinct appearance, combining traits from both parent breeds in varying degrees. This diversity adds to their visual appeal and makes each dog truly special. In the next sections, we will delve deeper into the temperament, health considerations, and care requirements of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. Stay with us to uncover more fascinating aspects of this remarkable hybrid breed.

Temperament and Personality Traits of American Bulldog Pitbull Mix

Get ready to meet a loyal, affectionate, and intelligent companion in the form of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. This hybrid breed possesses a delightful blend of temperament and personality traits, making them a treasured addition to many families. Loyalty and Affection One of the standout qualities of the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix is their unwavering loyalty to their owners. They form strong bonds with their family members and are known to be fiercely protective regarding their loved ones. Their devotion knows no bounds, and they thrive on being by your side, providing you with constant companionship and affection. Prepare to receive a never-ending supply of love and loyalty from your American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. Intelligence and Trainability The American Bulldog Pitbull Mix is known for its intelligence and trainability. These clever canines possess an eagerness to learn and please their owners. They can quickly grasp commands and obedience tasks with consistent and positive training methods. Early socialization and training are key to shaping their behavior and ensuring they grow into well-mannered and obedient companions. Family Companionship The American Bulldog Pitbull Mix thrives in a family environment and truly cherishes being part of the pack. They are known to be excellent family dogs, showing affection and gentle playfulness with children. Their protective nature often extends to the entire family, making them reliable and vigilant guardians. With proper socialization and training, they can adapt well to various family dynamics and become a source of joy and companionship. Energetic and Playful This hybrid breed possesses a lot of energy and loves engaging in activities and playtime. They enjoy interactive games, brisk walks, and outdoor adventures. Regular exercise keeps them mentally and physically stimulated, preventing boredom and destructive behavior. They make great companions for individuals or families who lead active lifestyles and can provide them with the exercise and stimulation they need. Also Read : The American Bulldog Great Pyrenees Mix: A Perfect Blend. Socialization and Interaction Socialization is crucial for the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix to develop proper behavior and interact well with other animals and people. With early and consistent socialization, they can learn to be friendly and well-mannered in various social situations. They generally have a friendly and approachable demeanor. Still, monitoring their interactions and providing positive experiences is important to ensure their social skills are well-rounded. As you embark on a journey with an American Bulldog Pitbull Mix, be prepared for a loyal, affectionate, intelligent companion who will bring immense joy and love into your life. Their remarkable personality traits make them ideal family pets. They can become the furry best friend you've always dreamed of with proper training, care, and socialization. The following sections will explore health considerations, care requirements, and training tips to help you provide the best possible care for your American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. Stay tuned for more valuable insights!

Common Health Issues in American Bulldog Pitbull Mix

While the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix is generally a robust and healthy hybrid breed, it's important to be aware of potential health issues that may affect them. By understanding the common health conditions that can arise, you can take proactive measures to ensure the well-being and longevity of your furry companion. The American Bulldog and the Pitbull have their own health concerns. The American Bulldog Pitbull Mix may inherit some of these conditions as a hybrid breed. Here are a few common health issues to be mindful of: 1. Hip Dysplasia This condition involves abnormal hip joint development, leading to discomfort, lameness, and reduced mobility. Regular exercise, a healthy diet, and a healthy weight help minimize the risk. 2. Brachycephalic Syndrome The American Bulldog Pitbull Mix may inherit a shortened snout and facial structure, contributing to breathing difficulties and overheating. Providing proper ventilation and avoiding excessive exercise in hot weather is important to prevent respiratory distress. 3. Allergies Like their parent breeds, American Bulldog Pitbull Mixes can be prone to allergies, which may manifest as skin irritations, itchiness, or gastrointestinal issues. Identifying and avoiding allergens, such as certain foods or environmental triggers, can help manage these conditions. 4. Joint Issues Joint problems like arthritis and elbow dysplasia can occur in the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix, particularly as they age. Regular exercise, maintaining a healthy weight, and providing joint-supporting supplements can help alleviate discomfort and improve mobility. 5. Heart Conditions Some American Bulldogs and Pitbulls may be predisposed to certain heart conditions, such as aortic stenosis or dilated cardiomyopathy. Regular veterinary check-ups, including cardiac evaluations, can help detect any underlying issues early on. It's important to note that not every American Bulldog Pitbull Mix will develop these health conditions, and many individuals enjoy a long and healthy life with proper care. Regular veterinary check-ups, a balanced diet, exercise, and a clean and safe living environment are essential for their well-being. When bringing an American Bulldog Pitbull Mix into your family, consider obtaining them from a reputable breeder who conducts health screenings and provides health guarantees. By being proactive and attentive to their health needs, you can ensure that your furry companion leads a happy and healthy life by your side. In the next sections, we will delve into the dietary and nutritional requirements, grooming needs, and training tips specific to the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix. Stay tuned for more valuable insights to help you care for your beloved hybrid companion! Also Read : The American Bulldog Great Pyrenees Mix: A Perfect Blend.

Diet and Nutrition for American Bulldog Pitbull Mix

Feeding your American Bulldog Pitbull Mix a well-balanced and nutritious diet is crucial for their overall health and well-being. By providing them with the right combination of nutrients, you can ensure they have the energy and vitality they need to thrive. Here are some guidelines to help you create a suitable diet plan for your hybrid companion: 1. Balanced Diet A balanced diet for the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix should include high-quality commercial dog food specifically formulated for their size, age, and activity level. Look for a brand that lists meat as the main ingredient and avoids artificial additives or fillers. Consult with your veterinarian to determine your dog's appropriate portion size and feeding frequency. 2. Portion Control It's essential to practice portion control to prevent overfeeding or underfeeding. Obesity can lead to various health issues, while underfeeding can result in malnutrition and energy deficiencies. Follow the recommended portion sizes the dog food manufacturer provides and make adjustments based on your dog's individual needs, such as their activity level, metabolism, and body condition. 3. Feeding Frequency Most adult American Bulldog Pitbull Mixes do well with two - three meals per day, while puppies may require more frequent feedings. Spacing out their meals helps with digestion and prevents stomach discomfort. Stick to a consistent feeding schedule to establish a routine and promote healthy eating habits. 4. Protein-Rich Diet As active and muscular dogs, the American Bulldog Pitbull Mix benefits from a protein-rich diet. Protein is essential for muscle development, repair, and overall growth. Look for dog food formulas that contain high-quality animal proteins, such as chicken, turkey, or fish. Avoid foods with excessive fillers or low-quality protein sources. 5. Dietary Restrictions Some American Bulldog Pitbull Mixes may have specific dietary restrictions or sensitivities. Monitor your dog for any signs of food allergies or intolerances, such as skin irritations, digestive issues, or excessive itching. If you suspect a specific ingredient is causing a reaction, consult your veterinarian to determine the best course of action, including potential dietary changes or elimination trials. 6. Hydration Ensure that your American Bulldog Pitbull Mix always has access to fresh and clean water. Hydration is vital for their overall health and helps maintain proper organ function, temperature regulation, and digestion. Keep their water bowl filled throughout the day and check for any signs of dehydration, such as lethargy or dry gums. Remember, every dog is unique, and their dietary needs may vary. It's essential to monitor their body condition, weight, and overall health regularly. Consult your veterinarian for personalized recommendations based on your dog's requirements and underlying health considerations. Read the full article

[five-rivers]

Prompt One-Shot for Danny Phantom

I have an idea for a short one-shot I’d like to see you write out one day. I’d like to see Danny’s thoughts on if he suddenly saw a ghost kid who looked like him, but isn’t a clone or a duplicate. He probably sees him in some kind of magical ghost mirror. The twin brother he never had. The twin brother looks back at Danny, gives him a sad smile, then flies away from Danny.

Heck, you could use the idea in your ‘Danny is exploring the Ghost Zone while his parents are communicating with him’ bit.

.

Clockwork kept many things in his tower.  Wonderous things.  Dangerous things.  Curious things.  Impossible things.  Things that he just wanted, for some reason or another.  

In one room, he kept a mirror. He kept many mirrors, in many rooms, and not all of them showed simple reflections. Some of them did things that even ghosts would find uncanny.

"What does this one do?" asked Danny, inspecting the cloth-draped frame.

"It shows you a might-have-been. What you never knew you wanted and can never have."

"That... doesn't sound great, honestly," said Danny. "Who'd want that?"

"Very few people. In fact, it drove several to madness before it came under my care," said Clockwork.

"And... you want me to look at it? Really? I mean, I haven't exactly had the best track record with going crazy and all."

"It is important to know yourself," said Clockwork, putting a hand on Danny's shoulder. "You are forewarned. You are forearmed. I am here. No matter what you see, it will not affect anything in reality."

Danny nodded slowly. "But it shows something that might have happened?"

"Yes," said Clockwork. "But not necessarily something likely."

Danny took a deep breath. "Okay. I'm ready."

Clockwork reached over Danny's shoulder and pulled the cloth on the mirror away.

At first, Danny thought the mirror was just showing him an ordinary reflection. Then he noticed that there were two of him. He tilted his head. Sure, he wanted to be able to duplicate himself better and more consistently, but that was just it. He wanted that. He knew he wanted that. It wasn't a mystery.

So, that couldn't be what the mirror was trying to tell him. There had to be something else.

Dani leaned into the frame. Oh, was this about her being closer, then? He did want that, but... Again, he'd known he wanted that for ages. So, what...?

One of his doubles tweaked Dani's ear, and she laughingly reprimanded him, but...

But that wasn't Danny's name, silently passing her lips.

He stepped closer, examining the reflection more intently. His second reflection... it wasn't him at all. Looking closer, he could see small differences between himself and this almost-double. Even if he assumed the image wasn't flipped right to left... He had a scar Danny didn't, was missing others, the pattern of his freckles were different, his eyes had a slightly different distribution of color in the iris, the way he was holding himself wasn't quite like Danny did-

There was a flash of light as the half-ghosts in the mirror transformed. All three of them. With this, it was even more obvious the second boy wasn't Danny, although the first was, or a duplicate. He was a whole different person. The color of his aura was different, warmer, the constellations his glowing freckles described were different, his hair licked with faint fire at the ends, and most importantly, his symbol was different.

"I... a twin..." he breathed, breath fogging on the glass. When had he gotten that close?

Something he didn't know he'd wanted. A person who would really, truly, understand what he was, who he was, what he was going through, like even Dani and Clockwork couldn't.

The family in the mirror smiled sadly at Danny and turned away, just in time for Clockwork to let the cloth fall to cover it again. He took a deep breath that was only a hairsbreadth from becoming a sob.

A tear traced its way down the curve of his cheek. He forced himself to laugh.

"I guess... knowing myself... I guess this means I'm lonely, huh? And even with all this- I'm sorry, I must seem really ungrateful. You're-" He cut himself off, not wanting to break down.

Clockwork waited quietly.

"You guys are all great," Danny finished. "It's just..."

"I think that everyone longs for someone who can understand them completely at some point," said Clockwork.

"You think?" said Danny, the joke coming a little easier this time. "You don't know?"

"I don't read minds, Daniel. Now, shall we go? Reflection is all very well and good, but it doesn't do to dwell in them.

[mellow-em]

Bittersweet Temptations

CHAPTER 1

[special dt @bluewingedangel <3]

Your neighbors, Nathan and Elena, have been friends with your parents for years. Whether it’d be family gatherings or vacations, they were around; they were family. But when you return home from your final years of college, what will happen when you find that it isn't just them living in the house next door anymore?

_____________________________________

The murky layers of clouds that filled the grey afternoon sky, mutated into the clear blend of colors of the evening sunset.

I rolled the windows down over an hour ago, to let in the crisp breeze of the night to keep myself awake. It really was the longest drive of my entire life. Though, even if it had been drawn out to extremes thanks to the traffic on the highways, it was relaxing nonetheless.

I spin the steering wheel slightly, finally turning into my neighborhood. I let out an exasperated yawn, feeling my whole body yearning to be in my comfy bed again. I was tremendously exhausted.

I looked around at the strips of houses lining both sides of the road; because it had been around 7pm, lights remained visible within the windows, and families were most likely eating dinner.

Our neighborhood was known for being tranquill, that is, when you first enter anyway. The farther down you drive, the more lively it gets. My parents and I happened to live right towards the end of the street, where everybody knew everyone.

From when I was little all the way into highschool, we’d have block parties, barbecues, and random get togethers every chance we could get. Those would last for hours, leading into the am sometimes. It was chaotic most of the time, but I enjoyed it.

Not even a moment later I find myself in front of my house, pulling into the driveway with one swift turn in. I couldn’t even put the car in park before I heard an uproar by the front door, causing me to stifle a laugh and shake my head.

It’s definitely gonna be a long night.

I roll all of the windows up before shutting the car off, stashing my keys away into the side pocket of my shorts. While pushing the door open with my feet, I look up to see both of my parents awaiting to engulf me into a hug.

A warm smile rises on my face as I hug them back.

“We’ve missed you honey,” my mom softly said in my ear, smoothing my hair down before kissing the top of my head.

The hug had met its demise, and I turned around to look at the mountains of boxes overflowing within the backseat and the trunk of my car.

I inaudibly sigh in my head, knowing how time consuming this is going to be.  Luckily mother could probably sense my vexation.

“Your father and I were gonna help you whether you liked it or not, so come on.”

“Thank you, I’m sorry that drive just killed me.”

She looked at me with a knowing expression on her facial features, “This is why I told you we should’ve helped you with heading home.”

I rolled my eyes, “And I insisted that I could take care of it myself,” I walked around to the other side as each of us opened the other doors to the car to start unloading my stuff.

She chuckled, dismissing me with a shake of her head. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on, let's start getting this done so you can go to sleep,” she paused behind me with a box wedged in her hands, “ cause your walkin’ around looking like a damn zombie.”

I scoffed jokingly, “ Ha ha ha, very funny.”

“Get to it y/n!” she called out from inside of the house.

I rolled my eyes yet again while lifting a fairly large pack that held my toiletries, and released a frustrated huff. 

The thoughts of the future began to boil in my brain again, creating that oh so familiar, awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I knew for a fact that I couldn’t stay at my parents house for longer than a year, meaning I was going to have to figure all of my shit out within that time frame. Although it may seem like a lifetime away, the rest of my life was really on the line here.

And I couldn’t begin to admit how scared I really was.

Damn I feel like I’m being so unbelievably dramatic.

“Y/n, are you still alive over there?” The distant muffles I barely heard over me mentally walking down memory lane, became crystal clear.

My head jerked up abruptly, as I let out a small yelp, “What?”  

I notice my dad in front of me, with two containers filled with my clothes, and a small bag stacked on top of one another in his hands.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, kiddo.”

“It's fine, I- what were you saying?”

We started to travel slowly towards the steps to the front porch, as he spoke, “I was sayin’ that we're gonna be having a small get together to celebrate you being back home tomorrow night.”

“Your small get-togethers are never just small dad, do you remember your 40th birthday? You had almost the same amount of people over as the block parties.”

He snickered, “Hey, what can I say, I’m just a popular guy,” the both of us enter the house as he turns to me again, “But I will say, it will more than likely be small. You’re just gonna see a few new faces in the mix.”

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion, “Wait what? Do we have new neighbors or something?”

The both of us walk up the stairs to my room, and place the boxes alongside the wall opposite of my bed.

“Something like that,” he pats my shoulder and hurries out the door to the hallway, leaving me even more confused, “Why do you insist on being so cryptic all the time?”

“I’m gonna get the rest of your stuff!”

I groaned, crashing into the plush comforter that was laying neatly on the bed beneath me. With no delay, my eyelids leisurely closed, and I eventually doze off.

______________________

Heat radiated from my body as I woke from a peaceful sleep. I shifted uncomfortably a few times, feeling the sweat sticking to my body.

No matter how hard I try, sleeping in the heat of this room is going to be like trying to sleep in a damn sauna. Useless.

I rolled over, with the pitch black atmosphere through the windows, and around me, taking up most of my vision.

It’s probably in the middle of the damn night.

I lifted my arm slightly to let my hand feel around the bed, in search of my phone to check the time.

Just my luck, my fucking phone is missing.

I look over to the other side of the room, where the unpacked boxes and containers remained stacked by the wall. The slight glare of the moon's reflection was hitting something on top of the windowsill.

“There you are,” the words fumbled out of my mouth sleepily, while I slowly rose from what felt like my puddles of sweat on the sheets. Stumbling in the process, I made my way over to what was thankfully my phone laying down in the moonlight.

The illumination of the screen screamed at my eyes, causing me to look away for a second, “shit that was bright.”

I adjust my eyes to the light to see the clock on the top of the screen:

3:28am

“Great. Well at least I got some sleep.” I toss my phone across the room, hearing it thump onto the side of my bed.

A wave of heat ran across my arms and legs, reminding me of why I woke up in the first place, “I’m not gonna take the chance of melting any more tonight.”

I reach over to unhinge the latch on top of the window next to me, and open it halfway. A gust of polar air simmered around me almost immediately, swiftly cooling me off to satisfaction.

I close my eyes, letting the nightly winds blow over me, with a relaxed smile forming on my face.

My small moment of tranquility was rudely interrupted by a splash from outside.

My eyes jolted open, and I instantly lurch my head up to look in that direction. To my surprise, the lights were on over Nate and Elena’s; the pool lights.

“Why would-?”

I knew for a fact that it wasn’t Nathan or Elena, knowing that they have a child on the way. Both of them were guaranteed to be asleep.

So who the hell is using their pool at 3 in the damn morning? That question replayed in my head as I stared out towards the pool, waiting to see the whoever it could possibly be.

As if on cue, I watched as the figure emerged from the pool, and a man slowly stepped out while using the ladder at the edge.  

Just like that, it felt that I didn't have control anymore. My curious eyes wandered; lingering all over him.

He wore black swim trunks that were snug on his thighs in all the right places. They sunk down to the lower half of his hips, exposing his very visible trail of hair on the lower half of his abdomen.

The more I drank of him, the more it affected me.

His chest hair glistened from the pool water that began streaming down his abs. My eyes found themselves trickling over his toned biceps, and his scattered variety of tattoos that took up only a few spots on his body.

I knew I had to look away, but I couldn’t.

I finally looked up at his face.

Holy fuck.

The lower half of his face was lined perfectly with stubble, with his seemingly soft lips as the centerpiece. I traveled up his face, noticing the wrinkles that were sketched sparingly across his features.

He ran his hand through his soaked locks of hair that partially hung in front of his face, with his muscles flexed to an extreme. He wandered over to the table and chairs that were by the edge of the pool area; that was much closer to my window.

After reaching for the towel, he rubbed it through his hair, and started drying the rest of his body with it. Him doing so caused me to look him up and down once again. I looked down to his feet, and up to his head. 

Only this time around, I was met with his eyes.

I felt an overwhelming surge of panic, but I was stuck in place. I felt trapped, with no escape from this whatsoever.

I’m such an idiot. I mentally scolded myself for letting my lustful curiosity get the best of me.

The reprimands within my mind were sliced in half, as a sly smirk traced over his lips, creating a few more layers of wrinkles upon his cheeks.

This could be chalked up to be the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever experienced.

I couldn’t decide on whether to focus on his lips or his eyes; it was becoming way too much to handle. I did a frantic dance between the two.

Coincidentally, as soon as our eyes met a final time, one of his eyelids opened and closed in one smooth motion, all while his stare remained fixated on me.

Did he really just do that? Did he just fucking wink at me?

I finally got the stamina to duck away from the window and onto the floor, with my back pressed against my former dorm room cases, and my breathing becoming more irregular by the second

What the fuck just happened?

[terubakudan]

This may be an old article from 3 years ago, but these cultural aspects/observations still apply even today. And though this is strictly a Chinese perspective, a lot of these everyday life bits are observed in Overseas Chinese communities in countries such as The Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, etc. as well as countries heavily influenced by Chinese culture like Taiwan, Japan, and Korea.

I've always liked learning about other cultures and making comparisons between how things are done East vs West. Which probably stems from growing up with two cultures and Mom raising me on American movies xD

So the irony is if you asked me how many Chinese, Taiwanese, or Hong Kong actors I know, chances are I know as much as you do xD Like Jackie Chan, Andy Lau, and that's about it. But if you asked me about Western (specifically American and British) actors, then I have a useless brain dump of movie trivia and who was with who in what movie xD

Hmmm, both Taiwan and the Philippines are two distinct cultures but both look up to a certain country and are fascinated by that. In Taiwan's case, Japan and the US for the Philippines. In both cases, this is due to being under the rule of those countries in their history. Taiwan being under Japan for 50 years, and the Philippines being under Spain for 300+ years, followed by periods of American and Japanese rule. To put it simply though:

Taiwan is "mini-Japan with a very Chinese culture".

The Philippines is "former colony of Spain with lots of American influences".

But unlike the author, I've never set foot in any Western country, so my understandings are strictly what I've observed in media, which while it can be accurate, doesn't compare to actually experiencing the culture.

Some further elaboration on most points:

#1 We quite literally use chopsticks for everything. We use it to pick rice, viands, vegetables, fruit, smaller desserts, almost all the food you can think of.

But where do you put your chopsticks when you're not using them? Just put them on top of your bowl or flat on your plate. But do not ever stick them vertically. It's taboo, since it looks like incense sticks, which we use to pray for those who have passed, like our ancestors or during funerary services.

#3 The majority of Asia is obsessed with fair/white skin. In my time at the Philippines, I grew up watching all these Dove Whitening commercials and my classmates often commented on how fair my skin was, how they envied it etc. In Taiwan, girls often say they don't want to 變黑 (biàn hēi) 'become dark'. Japan and Korea too are not innocent of this either (if their beauty/skin products weren't a dead giveaway).

People here at Taiwan often mistake me for being from Hong Kong or Japan (as long as I don't speak Mandarin with my heavy accent xD). A Taiwanese classmate of mine joked that she often gets mistaken for being from Southeast Asia due to having a darker complexion. And while I laughed it off with her at that time, looking back, I now realize she was lowkey being racist. xD

And believe me Filipinas have mentioned literally being told 'your skin is so dark' here in Taiwan, or being given backhanded compliments like 'you're pretty despite having dark skin' and...*facepalms*

My point is, beauty is not exclusive to skin color. People who still think that are assholes.

#5 Not to say we don't have salt and pepper, but yes soy sauce and vinegar are the classic condiments you see on the table, be it at home or at a restaurant.

And if I may add, Taiwanese love their pepper. xD If you ever get to eat at a night market or a smaller "Mom n' Pop-style" restaurant here, some dishes/soups tend to add quite an excessive amount of pepper. Not like anthills, but quite liberally and way more than average. Enough that you see traces of pepper at the bottom of the food paper bag or swirling in your soup. xD

#6 I know this all too well from personal experience. In my years of studying at Taiwan, I always had roommates. 3 in my first school (I graduated high school in the Philippines pre K-12 so I had to make up 2 years of Senior High), followed by 2 in college, with the exception of 1 in freshman year.

My college did offer single person dorms but at around 9000 NTD ($324) per month compared to around 6000 NTD ($216) per semester. Because I wanted to save, the choice was obvious for me xD. But ah, this doesn't mean I don't value personal space, in fact I love having the room to myself, and since both my roomies would go home to their families every weekend, weekends were bliss for me xD

And you don't have to be friends with your roommates (that's an added bonus however), you just have to get along with them. I was quite lucky to have really great roommates all throughout my schooling years.

#9 In the Philippines, we do. Owing mostly to American influences and maybe being predominantly Catholic? xD

#10 *sigh* Chinese parents and parents from similar Asian cultures tend to put too much emphasis on grades, so much that kids could get sent to cram school as early as elementary. This is because what school you get into could literally affect your future job opportunities, and while that's not exclusive to any particular country/culture, I feel it's especially pronounced here in Asia. I'm really lucky my own parents weren't that strict about it. However, if your parents don't point the mistakes out to you, chances are you'll do it yourself, if you're an Asian kid like me anyway. xD It just becomes a habit.

#11 My family is an exception to this. xD We do say 'I love you' directly, but complete with the 'ah eat well ok?', 'don't scrimp on food', 'sleep well' and similar indirect words/actions of affection. We were doing 'Conceal, Don't Feel' before it became popular. xD

#13 I'm kind of confused about this but this has sort have changed over the years in which eye-contact is now more encouraged. But don't stare, especially at elders and authority figures. Sometimes it's just shyness though. xD And I've observed this with my own Taiwanese friend, especially when I'm complaining or ranting to her about something. xD I'm a person who likes to express my opinions strongly, which tends to scare/alienate some of the locals here, as doing so is kind of frowned upon. Thankfully, she does listen and offers her take on things.

#14 Ah this. xD In the Philippines, this is a common greeting known as beso-beso, and I freaked out too when an auntie did that to me. xD Needless to say, Mom lectured me later on what that was. ^^"

#16 Along with #3 another crazy beauty standard. In my view, people always look better with a little meat on them and when they're not horribly thin. Asia still has a loonng way to go with accepting different types of bodies if you ask me. This combined with modern beauty standards has made the pressure for women especially to 'look beautiful' higher than ever.

I know many people love them but please, starving yourself or glorifying eating disorders is never OK just to get this kind of 'ideal' body. I'm not part of the Kpop fandom, but even I think when idols get bullied just for gaining the least bit of weight among other insensitive comments, that's really going too far.

#17 'If you want to make friends, go eat.' <- I couldn't agree more. In the Philippines we have a greeting: 'Kumain ka na ba?' (Have you eaten?) . Similarly in Taiwan, we have 吃飯了沒? (chī fàn le méi), both of these can mean that in the literal sense but are often used as greetings instead. By then which invitation to having lunch/dinner together may or may not follow. Food really is a way for us to socialize and to catch up with what's going on in each other's lives. Not to say we don't have regular outings like going out to the mall, going shopping, etc. but eating together is a huge part of our culture, be it with family or friends.

And while I'm at it, some memes that are way too accurate good to pass up xD

Parents, uncles, aunties alike will fight over the bill xD

Alternatively:

You just space out until your name is called xD

My parents are guilty of the last one. Logic how? xD

#18 True. xD I like giving compliments out to people but I have a hard time accepting them myself, though I've learnt how to accept them much more now than before. We're kind of raised to constantly downplay ourselves so we often say things like 'ah no no' or 'I'm really not that good'. The downside of this of course is that it can come off as somewhat fake. xD

Again from personal experience, that same classmate who made the lowkey racist remark, she was good, she was on the debate team, was a honor student, knew how to mingle with people, but she downplayed herself way too much, while praising me but I honestly thought that she never really meant it from how she treated me. She wanted to keep me around her yet make backhanded compliments at me and she didn't want me socializing with my other classmate who is now my friend. *sigh* It was only after discussing this with one of my roomies did I realize how this 'excessive downplaying' might come off to people like me who more or less grew up with a more 'Westernized' mindset. I'm not saying brag about your achievements but don't be overly humble about them either, which can also be a turn off.

#20 We do tend to be a lot more realistic on how we view things, neither entirely optimistic nor pessimistic. We try to think of things practically and often analyze things on pure logic. A downside of this however, is that Chinese people can be overly practical. Taiwanese for instance don't like to 'find inconveniences' and generally keep to themselves, meaning, they won't help you in your hour of need even when they do have the capabilities. Sounds really harsh I know, but in my 6 years of living in Taiwan, while this doesn't apply to all the people, a lot of them really do only find/talk to you when they need something.

So for some people saying Taiwanese are 'friendly', that's BS xD If you ask me, Filipinos are infinitely more friendly, and again while not all, generally make more of an effort to help you when you need it. I really felt more of a real sense of community during my years growing up in the Philippines compared to Taiwan.

#21 Children do tend to stay with their parents well into college and adulthood, since Chinese families are indeed very family-oriented, in a lot of cases, grandparents often live under the same roof as us as well! And it really does save a lot of money. I see there's a real stigma in the US when it comes to "living with your parents", but that's starting to change especially because of Covid and having more and more people move back in with their parents.

Housing unfortunately is pretty much hella expensive no matter where you go, and Taiwan is no exception. Steep housing prices and the very high cost of raising a child (schooling + buxiban fees, etc.) contribute to a very low birth rate and thus an aging population like Japan. It's not uncommon to see both parents working in Taiwan.

#23 I'm an overthinker myself, but I totally agree with the author that the best is to strike a good balance between these two. Which I guess is why I love drawing or any other related creative attempts, it helps me be more spontaneous or well, creative! I like to remain intellectually or artistically inspired.

#24 Is French high school really like that? xD My friend did watch SKAM France and more or less got a culture shock from what was depicted on the show. I can confirm however that most high schools both in the Philippines and Taiwan require students to wear a uniform, only in college is everybody free to wear casual/civilian clothes.

#26 Ah this is part of our Asian gift-giving etiquette xD We always open gifts later after the event/meeting and in private. Never open them in front of the person who gave it to you or in front of others. This is to prevent any 'shame/embarrassment' that may result both to yourself and to the gift giver. I know this may come off as something weird since some people may want a more honest response or immediate feedback when it comes to gift-giving, but that's just how it is in our culture. You're always free to ask us though (in private) if we liked the gift or not ^^"

#28 I want to say the same goes to drinking, partying, and drugs however xD Those are things which are still frowned upon in our culture. And to be honest, whenever I see those in movies, it does kind of turn me off xD It doesn't mean that we're "uncool" or "boring", we just think that there are much better or healthier ways of "having fun".

#31 Is this true in France?! Man I would kind of prefer that instead of people being on their phones all the time xD This kind of goes with #20 in that Chinese are overly practical or logical, and don't read fiction as much as nonfiction. My Taiwanese friend is an exception though, she's a bibliophile who loves the feel of paper books compared to e-books, and it's a trait of her that I like a lot. Both the Philippines and Taiwan however have a huge fanbase when it comes to manga and anime though.

I'm all for reading outside of "designated reading" at schools especially. Reading fiction improves your vocabulary too, and can be quite fun! It helps you imagine and really invest in a world/story, and if you ask me something that I feel Westerners are better at, they're more in touch with their emotions and creativity, and are thus much more able to write compelling or original stories. Believe me, I've seen a fair amount of Chinese movies that rip off Western movie plotlines xD

#33 Nothing much to add on here..except that since I'm a "weird" person, Mom often jokes that she got the wrong baby from the hospital. xD

#35 True. While I agree with the care and concern that your fellow community can give you, the downside of this is we tend to only hang out with our own people, e.g Chinese with Chinese, Taiwanese with Taiwanese, etc. I've seen too that it's especially hard to make friends in Japan and Korea as a foreigner. Not only is there the language barrier, but the differences in culture too. In a way, Asians can be pretty close-minded on getting to know other cultures or actually making friends with people from other countries. I know this all too well being half-Taiwanese/half-Filipino, being neither "Filipino" enough nor "Taiwanese" enough. xD It's more of people here being too used to what they're comfortable with.

#36 Oh this is something I feel that Chinese students and other students from similar cultures should really improve on. xD How will people respect you if you don't speak your mind?

I felt bad especially for my Spanish teacher in college, granted it was an introductory course (Spanish I and II) but the amount of times that our teacher had to prompt a student to recite/speak even with clear hints already made her (and me too) extremely frustrated. The thing is, these are college students, I personally feel they don't have any reason to be so shy of speaking and technically by not doing so they're slowing the pace of the class too much and a lot of time is wasted.

Unfortunately you can't always be very vocal with your thoughts and opinions in most Asian cultures. I would say strive for that, but at the same time, play your cards well, especially if you're in a workplace setting.

If you made it to the end, thank you for reading and here's a cookie! 🍪 I'm not perfect and there's bound to be something I missed so please let me know if you spotted anything wrong. Feedback/questions are very much welcome and please feel free to share about your country/culture's differences or similarities!

[dnf-fic-recs]

Do you know any more long fics? I saw your last post and devoured the fics in it, and I was wondering if you have any more

The Dream Doll by PeppDream (pep_pizza) is 10 chapters long, completed, and adorable!!

When George bought that creepy doll from that creepy antique shop, he had planned on stuffing it into a drawer and never having to look at it again. The last thing he expected was for the doll to become a blonde boy wearing a piss-colored hoodie.

There's No Mistletoe Above Our Heads But I'll Kiss You Anyways by jungkooksfic is 15 chapters

“I’d love for you to come George, but you do realize that I’m not out, right?”

Ah, there it is. The fact that Clay isn’t out until his family. A minor detail.

George, before fighting better judgement, says, “we could just pretend we’re not dating?”

Clay has the grand idea to take George home to meet his parents, but there's one teeny-tiny detail he didn't tell them about:

He's gay, and George is his boyfriend.

(Or, Clay and George have to pretend they haven't been dating for nearly two years, and George is a really terrible liar.)

Like Magic by KangarooKen & SpiderSpawn is 26 chapters and ongoing

“Don’t you get it?” Dream said to him in an excited whisper, eyes alight with joyous realization. “You—you’re magical, George!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re like me!”

When George first met the tall, freckled child who called himself Dream, he thought the other boy was bonkers. Strange clothes, a foreign accent, a closely-guarded secret — what was George supposed to make of his new next-door neighbor?

Despite the newcomer’s strangeness, the two boys quickly forge a friendship. George soon realizes that he and Dream have a lot more in common than he first thought.

//Dreamnotfound Hogwarts AU//

Crown of Straw, Sword of Gold by opheliaboo is 46 chapters and completed

It was an odd feeling, to be around someone you neither liked nor were liked by nearly twenty-four hours a day, but George had grown used to it. When his kingdom is invaded and his life thrown into chaos, King George begins to realize how hard it is to maintain enemyship with the man who keeps saving his life.

Dreamland by tbhyourelame is the ever popular Heat Waves & Helium fanfiction! Heat Waves is 12 chapters and Helium is 10 so far and ongoing! I know it's a very common fanfiction but it is incredibly well written, so if you haven't already check it out I would!

Heat Waves - Mature

Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.

A breath of frustration escapes George’s lips. “I don’t do that.”

“You do. It’s okay,” Dream says. He feels pinpricks of warmth building in his chest. The words rise up faster than he can temper, laced with soft honey, “you’re so cute.”

The call falls silent.

They heard it. The affection in the tone of his voice, different than usual, no trace of humor. The way it came from the hearth below his heart, glowing with secrecy and shame—for George, and George only. They had to have heard it. -- inspired by the song "heat waves" by glass animals

Helium - Mature

After years of online calls, late night texting, and out of sync sleep schedules, Sapnap and George finally visit Florida. Dream's aspiration to truly know himself is met with the return of missed chances, and uncertainty. Placed in the dead center of his humid, overwhelming life, he and George are bound to confront the inevitable.

“Has it rained?” George asks suddenly.

Dream’s thoughts snap away from the drifting green and cloudless sky, returning to earth once more. His lips part in silence.

George’s voice was soft when he'd uttered the words, and for a reason he cannot place, Dream finds himself glancing to the back of Sapnap’s head before responding, “Since...summer?”

[thedistrictsleepsalonetonight]

Cupid is stupid (Or Weiss asks a lot of questions and finds love in all the softer places)

Falling in love, Weiss discovers, rather inconveniently in the middle of a fight, is a lot like wielding a weapon.  

There’s the push and the pull, the drawing blood and taking of it. Weiss is rather inclined to think of it as a violent, bloody dance — the way she’s almost constantly tripping over her own feet trying to follow her partner when she has no idea what her next move will be. Then, of course, there’s the fact that whoever she’s dancing with is equally as clumsy as she happens to be, which Ruby definitely is.

“Thank me later,” she quips, after she’s done saving the idiot’s ass for the millionth time in her life. And then it hits her right in the chest, not a Grimm’s blow, not a weapon, and worse that Cinder’s fiery spear that had impaled her a couple days ago — this is affection. Not the kind she feels for Yang or Blake or any of their other friends, it’s the kind that turns her inside out whenever she so much as sees a malevolent force heading towards Ruby. The kind that automatically reaches out to touch Ruby when she’s near, that draws her eyes, unbidden to search her out in a fight.

Ruby catches her a while later, holding onto her hand as she hangs off a moving train, and Weiss can do nothing other than blink back at her — at her bright eyes, and her hair whipping around in the wind. She then proceeds to whisk them both to between two train carriages, in a flurry of red. When Weiss tries to step away, to catch her breath, she finds she’s stuck to the ground, or more accurately, entangled with Ruby. They’ve got their arms wrapped tight around each other, and with every movement, strands of Ruby’s hair land onto her face. Weiss doesn’t know it then, but all of her molecules have indeed just been rearranged. She has a feeling that stupid thing in her chest has been put back together to form Ruby’s name instead.

*****

It’s almost offensive how easily she feels the cold when she’s supposed to be the Ice-Queen. Yang would say something stupid about her not having a thick skin because she grew up in the literal lap of luxury (and she would be right, but that’s beside the point) and Blake would probably punch her in her arm, but thankfully, nobody’s noticed yet. So she stands in the corner of the porch, looking out at the rapidly falling snow outside the creepy house.

“You’re cold,” Ruby murmurs when she sidles up to her.

Of course. Of course Ruby sees. “Everyone’s cold,” Weiss says back.

Ruby shrugs, gently reaches for her hands, her eyes on Weiss’ the entire time. Is this okay, she seems to be asking, and Weiss, helpless, can only nod.  

Ruby covers Weiss’ hands with her own, raises it to her face and like it’s a secret, breathes warm air into their cupped palms. She’s no longer looking right at Weiss, instead focusing her attention onto their hands, and Weiss, like any other time she’s lucky enough to get to stare at Ruby freely, takes this opportunity to do so. The cold in her bones has instead been replaced with warmth — Ruby warmth, the particular shade that she can only find around Ruby — and even the tremendous crash of Qrow and Jaune breaking down the door registers to her as though coming from far, far away.  

Ruby blows one last gust of warm air into their hands before they make their way inside. She doesn’t let go, though. Weiss realizes she didn’t want her to, anyways.

*****

There are around ten people in the house besides the three people who actually live there, and not enough beds. It’s a logistical nightmare.

“Or,” Nora says, smirking in a very wink-wink-nudge-nudge way while she side-eyes Ren, “it’s an opportunity.”

Ren colors, fiddles with his collar until he’s sunk half into it. They’re all polite enough to look away; the sight of Ren, embarrassed is physically painful to witness.

“We’ll — we’ll manage, won’t we?” Ruby pipes up, smiling brightly, and Weiss sees them all smile back in reflex. Sometimes she wonders if she’s the only one Ruby can twist around her little finger — other times she is reminded that she just has that effect on people. Why else would they follow her to the ends of the planet? When Ruby talks, people believe.  

(When Ruby talks, Weiss physically feels her heart careening out of control, skidding into a blind curve with no idea what lying ahead. On and on and on, like Ruby’s running up ahead and Weiss follows, with just her voice for company)  

They end up cramped in two rooms — Maria gets the bed in the guest room, in honor of her being practically a fossil, a fact that gets Yang’s ears boxed when she says it aloud. Oscar, Jaune, Nora and Ren plant mattresses on the free space on the floor and are snoring in fifteen minutes. Qrow claims he won’t sleep much, and finds a rocking chair that he pulls close to the window, and he sits there, swigging rum ominously every once in a while. The rest of them decide to concede the couch in the living room to Ruby, who looks the most exhausted. And when Weiss gets up because she can’t sleep, she sees Blake and Yang snoozing next to each other, their hands loosely held close to Blake’s chest.

“Can’t sleep either, huh?” she hears from somewhere beside her when she goes out to the porch, and whirls around, only to see Terra sitting in the corner. Adrian is perched on her lap, watching the soft snow drizzling outside.

Weiss smiles at her, feeling a little awkward about the entire thing. Shrugs. “Shouldn’t he be.... asleep?” A quick glance at the clock confirms her suspicions. It’s almost one.

Terra chuckles. “He conked out at seven. He wakes up in the middle of the night at least once. This — this helps him go back to sleep. Plus,” she pauses to bend a little and deposit a tiny kiss on top of his tiny head, “it’s one of the few minutes I get to spend with him in the day.”

Weiss thinks of her own childhood, of nightmares and staying up all night terrified, because there was no way, absolutely no way she was allowed to wake her parents up for any reason besides imminent death. The Schnee estate was vast, confusing and filled with entirely too many showpieces no one would ever use, full of winding staircases that lead nowhere close to comfort.  

This house is tiny and full of love. Every dent on the couch talks of tickle fights and places someone was so happy that they bounced their way into almost breaking it; the lower parts of the walls are scribbled over with crayons and blue hearts and stick figures of smiling people. She thinks back to dinner when Oscar and Nora burned whatever pie abomination they were supposed to be baking and then they’d all crammed into that tiny space to try to salvage it, and Weiss could’ve sworn even the tiny gaps between them were overflowing with love.

(This is a house someone would want to walk into at the end of the day. A place of shelter. A home)

“Jaune did mention you, you know?” Terra says, after a while, and Weiss is startled out of her train of thought. “In his letters to Saphron when you kids were at Beacon. He was particularly effusive in his description of you.”

“Oh dear lord,” she says, burying her face in her hands because that phase of her life seems so far, far away now. “I’m so glad he got over it. Not before singing an awful made-up song on his guitar, though.”

Terra laughs, softly, and Weiss notices that Adrian’s fallen asleep against her chest, his head resting on the arm she’s moved awkwardly to brace him.  

“Saph worries about him,” Terra says. “He makes sure to text her updates, but she can tell when he’s left a lot out. He’ll text her something like roadtrip and she knows to translate it to we’re on the run and have no idea where our next meal is coming from. He’s her only brother and kinda the baby of the family. And she.... she frets.”

“And when she worries, you worry,” Weiss completes.

When Terra looks up at her next, it is with all of her emotions plain on her face to see. Weiss reads consternation, affection, helpless desperation and blinding, blinding love before she bites at her lip and wipes it clean. Nods.

Weiss goes back inside a couple of minutes after they do, Adrian’s head hanging off his mother’s shoulder as they make their way to his room. When she walks in, she catches a glimpse of Qrow, snoring with a blanket now thrown across his torso, and movement off the corner of her eye. Oscar gives her a boyish grin, holds up a finger to his lips, before he disappears back to the guest room. She climbs over Yang and Blake, and finds her way, inexplicably, to Ruby’s side.

At some point in the night, Ruby had apparently kicked off her sheets and they now lay half-thrown over her legs. Weiss kneels at her head, looks on. At her impossibly young features, and her mouth that has fallen open, and the few strands of hair that are strewn across her forehead. Weiss wants to kiss the spot where they meet, wants to kiss the tiny freckle just beside her nose, her snoring mouth. She flushes, and balls her hands up into tight, wanting fists.  

When the urge passes (passes in a way that thirst in the desert passes, always there beneath the surface, just pushed back down enough so one can concentrate on more important things), she pulls the sheets up over her body, and tucks the ends, carefully over her shoulders. Her fingers wander, unprompted, to Ruby’s face, where they trace the path of her hair, and brush it away. Once. Twice.

And Ruby stirs beneath her hand, and then is staring at her, wide-eyed. There is no fanfare to how she wakes up, no protracted sigh or stretching. Weiss guesses it’s a product of their on-the-run lives — when there is no time to breathe, one gets used to waking and sleeping easily. In the end there they are, with Weiss kneeling next to Ruby, their faces shrouded in moonlight, staring at each other.

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” she whispers, after a beat. Her hand is still resting on Ruby’s face. When she moves to bring it back, Ruby stirs. Her hand comes up to cover Weiss’, keeping it there.

“It’s okay,” Ruby whispers back, still holding her goddamned hand close to her face. Weiss can feel her breath tripping all over itself, like it’s not sure what to do in such close proximity. It’s almost intimate, she imagines, the both of them with their heads huddled together. If she leaned forward a smidge, their foreheads would touch. A head tilt — and here the thought makes her feel hot all over — and they would be kissing.

(The distance suddenly feels almost awfully unbearable to her)

Ruby’s still staring up at her, her eyes still wide and serious. When it all becomes too much, Weiss moves her hand to cover her eyes.

Ruby’s lips curve up in a sleepy smile. “What?”

“Stop,” she says, flustered, “stop looking at me.”

“But I like looking at you,” Ruby tells her, sounding amused and Weiss is one hundred percent sure she is going to die tonight.

(She doesn’t mean it she doesn’t mean it she doesn’t mean it she doesn’t — then — she means it in a different way than what you’re hoping for so shut up shut up shut up)

“Shut up,” she says, finally, then adds. “Dunce.”

Ruby giggles, then her mouth stretches open into the hugest yawn ever. Weiss laughs, boops her nose, because she simply must.

“Sleep, okay?” she says, one last time. Then, without thinking too much about it, she leans down and presses her lips to Ruby’s forehead.

She’s not sure, but Ruby looks a little like she’s blushing. She blinks a few times, then says: “Now I will.”

Weiss’ mattress is just below the couch. Five minutes after she lies down on it, she feels Ruby’s hand travel down and rest on her head. It is to the continuous motion of her hand through Weiss’ hair that sleep finally takes her when it does.

*****

Winter is all angles and bones. Not just physically, but also in the way she carries herself. She is sharp edges and words that cut easily. Weiss knows it’s not just her — the Schnee family tends to make knives out of people and then set them upon the rest of the world to hurt and maim. Weiss knows that better than anyone else, knows that some blades draw blood unwillingly.  

Also knows that Winter is trying her very best to change.

But her posture is still ramrod straight, refusal to relax written into every single one of her cells. They’ve all split up after their celebration for their newest promotion to Huntsmen and Huntresses: Yang and Blake having disappeared on a trip to explore the city, Ren, Nora and Jaune off to gorge on Atlesian delicacies, and they’d left Oscar practicing sparring with Ruby. Winter had dropped in to invite her out to a celebratory dinner at Atlas’ finest dining establishment, and so here they were, sitting awkwardly in front of each other, eating whatever was on their plates.

Weiss wonders if Winter would die of shock if she dared to reach over and steal one of the dumplings on her plate. The Weiss of two years ago wouldn’t even have entertained the thought.  

Today, she thinks about it maybe five seconds before picking one up and shoving it into her mouth.

Winter’s eyebrows are arched. “You know Father would disapprove of the declination of your table manners.”

“Good thing I don’t care, then,” she replies, flippantly. “Do you?”

Winter rolls her eyes, takes a sip of her wine. “You’re my sister, Weiss. You could take half my liver and I’d only call you a boob. Or something equivalent.”

That’s how Winter Schnee loves. In casual gestures, in standing behind Weiss, ready to sacrifice herself at a moment’s notice. It is not the unwavering, adoring devotion of Yang and Ruby — Yang wouldn’t even entertain the thought of a potential hurt coming her sister’s way, jumping into action to save her before she even asks. Winter, however, needs to make sure Weiss can take care of herself, only hanging back in case things get too dire.

She smacks her hand with the chopsticks when Weiss reaches for another one. “I offered up a liver, you go looking for my heart? Behave, Weiss.”

It makes her laugh.

And it’s this foreign.... ease, for lack of a better word, that has Weiss’ tongue loose enough for her to shoot Hey, Winter, you ever been in love before an hour later, when they’re walking back to the military complex.

Her sister seems to be choking on thin air — she coughs and squawks and makes all sorts of undignified noises, before smacking Weiss on her head to make her stop laughing.

“I’m sorry,” Weiss says, when that hysterical bout is over. “Just wanted to see the look on your face. You don’t, you don’t have to answer that if it’s too personal.”

“Imbecile,” Winter mutters, but she turns to face her anyway. They’re almost at the building that has their apartment, and they stop almost simultaneously, standing in front of each other and trying very hard to avoid looking into each other’s eyes.

Winter hesitates, then speaks again. “Really want to know?”

Oh. Wow. Okay. “Yes,” she nods, trying to look casual about the whole thing.

“Once,” Winter tells her, running her hands through her perfectly coiffed hair in a very uncharacteristic move. “Before I joined the military.”

“And what happened?” Weiss asks, after a prolonged pause.

Winter’s smile is both sad and amused. “Father found out about her. What do you think?”

And she doesn’t know if it’s the easily dropped pronoun, or the way she can still read the utter loneliness in her sister’s eyes, but Weiss finds herself taking a step forward and wrapping Winter up in a hug.  

(Winter is all angles and bones)

And stiff limbs. “What,” her sister says, hesitantly, “Weiss, what are you doing?”

“Hugging you.”

“We don’t do that,” comes the prim response.

“We also don’t steal food off of each other's plates, Winter,” she replies, easily, still acutely conscious of the way Winter is just pressed against her stiffly. “As far as major changes go, I personally wouldn’t mind seeing a lot more of this.”

Winter’s arms come up, finally and hang loosely off her shoulders. As far as hugs go, it’s not the most comfortable one.  

(As far as hugs go, it’s one of the best Weiss has ever had)

And that’s' the moment, she becomes aware of movement from somewhere up high. Winter’s back is facing the building, so she’s in the perfect position to tilt her head up and see—

(What in God’s name?)

Oscar, Jaune, Nora, Ruby, Blake and Yang and crammed into the same window, peeking out at them, and appear to be giggling furiously. Ren, thankfully, seems to have enough dignity to not stoop to the level of these utter pains in her ass.

“What the—”

“Weiss?” Winter asks, still awkwardly hugging her. “Something wrong?”

She laughs. “Depends on what you define as wrong,” she says, and disentangles, so Winter can turn around and see for herself.

“Oh dear.”

A chorus comes sailing from above. “Hi, Officer Winter!” they all say, and then disperse, laughing madly. Only Ruby remains in the end, waving at them shyly.  

Winter, to her utter surprise (and really, it shouldn’t have been. If the evening had taught her anything, it was that she didn’t give her sister enough credit), waves back. When she turns back to Weiss, she’s even smiling a little.

“I like that one,” she tells her, eyes glinting with what Weiss can only define as mirth.

“Everyone likes her,” Weiss replies, shrugging.

“Do you?” Winter’s eyebrows are raised, and Weiss cannot help dropping her gaze, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of her neck. Winter’s hand falls on her hair, ruffles it up a little.  

Her parting words are Be careful, you boob. Weiss pretends not to understand.

*****

Blake and Yang are easy to figure out. Even Weiss, who has a general tendency of being clueless in these matters, can see the way Blake kind of — withers, when Yang isn’t around. There’s a light in her eyes that’s only visible when Yang’s close to her, a subtle confidence in her shoulders that says Yeah, I’m good now. Blake and Yang carry their love in their bodies, always moulding themselves to the other’s relative position. Weiss is sure even they don’t realize it yet, the way they always seem to come together when they’re in the same room, this unconscious meeting of opposite poles that ends in relief. They’re tangled hands, arms resting around shoulders, feet nudging each other, eventually leading up to secret smiles in team meetings.  

Sometimes, Weiss is sick of the whole thing.

Oftentimes, Weiss wants them to be happy so, so much that she fights the urge to push them into a room together for two hours.

“They’ll be back soon, you know?” she tells Blake, who hasn’t moved from the window since they finally made contact with the rest of the team. Blake whirls around, relaxes, then accepts the coffee Weiss is holding out to her.

“Thanks,” Blake says. “I just—”

“I know, I know. You worry.”

“I just,” she says, tugs at her hair with her free hand, “I just, I don’t know how anyone does it. Stay away, I mean, I — it’s like I can’t breathe properly when I don’t see her.”

And Weiss has done it once, a long time ago, although the magnitude of her feelings wasn’t known to her back then. Back when her father had locked her up in an ivory tower and she had no idea what Blake or Yang or Ruby were doing, if they were even alright. But she still stayed up all night, wondering if Ruby was okay, if she had eaten, if she was thinking about Weiss.

She imagines having to leave Ruby for a moment now, and the melancholy that washes over her almost brings her to her knees.

“Some hypocrite you are,” she says, teasing Blake gently, “with all the find yourself schtick you gave Nora earlier.”

She laughs, and Weiss finds herself hoping it’s taken her mind off of Yang for at least a little while.

“I like your brother,” she says, then. “He’s adorable.”

“Can you say that to him, please?” Weiss begs her. “And can I please be in the room when you do so?”

There’s another moment of levity. “Hey,” she starts, frowning a little. “Do you know where he is right now? Haven’t seen either him or my mother after the whole Grimm debacle.”

“I last saw him with Ruby,” Blake says. “I think he’s.... quite taken to her, actually.”

Weiss sighs. “Of course.”

(Ruby is the pied piper, after all. Everyone would follow her to the ends of the planet)

(Weiss? Weiss would walk with her beyond it)

Blake grins at her.

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she says, mischievously. “Seems he’s not the only Schnee who’s quite taken with her.”

(Blake deserves the massive bump running headlong into the glyph Weiss conjures up in the next second. No doubts about that)

*****

The end of the world comes after the night before the end of the world.

Like a protracted moment of utter calm before the cacophony starts, they all comes together, and eventually split up to the places that give them the most peace. Weiss takes a tour of the house once. Her mother’s sleeping on a chair next to Whitley’s bed; Weiss covers her with a blanket before she moves on. Jaune and Oscar are sitting guard over Penny, next to Ren, who has squeezed himself in beside Nora. Yang smiles at her warmly when she comes upon her and Blake in another room. Blake’s fallen asleep with her head resting on Yang’s lap. She wanders around for a little while more, until she finally comes upon Ruby in her bedroom.

“Why is it,” Weiss says, “that most of the time I meet you, I have to tell you to go to sleep?”

Ruby turns, smiles at her, but the smile is fractured in places. Weiss takes a step forward, closer.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“Nothing, nothing, I,” Ruby takes a deep breath, looks around. “I can’t believe you lived here.”

Weiss lets her change the topic. “What’s so unbelievable about that?”

“Just doesn’t look like you, that’s all.”

“That’s because I don’t exactly belong here.”

“Where do you belong then?” Ruby asks, looking right at her.

With you. “With all of you,” she says. It’s true. “Blake and Yang. And Jaune and Nora and Ren and Oscar. And even — that stupid alcoholic uncle of yours. And—”

“—and?” she asks, a lopsided grin on her face.

“And you.”

Ruby sighs, steps forward so they’re in each other’s personal space.  

“Weiss,” she says once, quietly.

Weiss closes her eyes, takes a step forward of her own, blindly, feeling Ruby’s steadying hands on her shoulders, her back, her hair. She feels a hand carefully moving against the scrunchie holding her hair together.

“Can I?”

She nods, feels her hair pulls free. Ruby helps detangle it, the braid, and ends with tender hands, smiles.

“I like your hair,” she says, then makes a soft sound in her throat, urgent, wanting. “Weiss.”

“Yes, Ruby?”

“Weiss, Weiss, Weiss,” Ruby says, again, and now her forehead is tipped against Weiss’.

“What, darling?” Weiss murmurs, and feels Ruby’s shuddering breath in response. There’s a small, desperate kiss pressed to her hair, then her forehead, and amusingly enough, her nose.

“Weiss, I have to tell you—”

“—wait!” she says, not moving. It’s not like she could. A Grimm could be standing in the room right now and it couldn’t draw her away from Ruby. She touches Ruby’s cheek gently, feels Ruby sigh and sink into her palm. “Please — please don’t say what you’re about to.”

(A part of her, the stupid, hopeful part knows what it is and craves it, dreads it, mourns it already)

“And what am I about to say?” Ruby asks, her eyes burning with something Weiss can’t find the words to define.

“Something incriminating, I fear.”

“You fear?”

“Yes. But I also — I hope.”

“Then let me say it,” Ruby implores. She removes her arms from around Weiss, grabs her hands and raises them to her lips. Kisses her knuckles carefully. “Weiss, you know already. You must know.”

“I do, sweetheart, I do,” she says, resting her head against Ruby’s collarbone. The two of them have been circling each other in some dance that Weiss hasn’t been able to pin down yet, have been hurtling, at alarming speeds towards unknown cliffs, and the same way that Ruby has to know that Weiss would split herself end to end for her, that if cut into pieces, Weiss would bleed for her happily, Weiss knows.

(All love is violence. She knows that better than anyone)

“Tell me,” she starts, “tell me when there is peace.”

“But there will never be peace!” Ruby says, and her voice cracks. Weiss raises her hand blindly to press at her cheek and feels the warm moisture sticking there.

She rises on her toes so they’re level again. “There will be.” Weiss would make sure of it. For Yang and Blake, who need time to get their fledgling love off the ground. For Ren and Nora and Jaune who have lost too many friends already. For Oscar, who deserves a chance to grow up and for Qrow, who deserves a chance to feel young again. For Penny and Maria and Pietro and her mother and Whitley and Winter.  

For the girl she loves.

For Ruby.

When they kiss, Weiss thinks she’s shattering into a million pieces, like she would never be the same again, even if reformed into someone who resembles Weiss Schnee on the surface. How could she, with the memory of the movement of Ruby’s lips now imprinted on hers, her fingers tracking indelible marks through her hair — tomorrow, she will remember, a week later, she will remember, if somehow, she couldn’t see Ruby for another thirty years, her skin would remind her, every day.

*****

The end of the world comes before the day after the end of the world.

Weiss wakes up in the woods, empty handed. She wakes up, and thinks of Ren and Nora and Oscar, hopes they got to safety. Of her mom and Whitley and Winter. She thinks of Jaune who tried carrying her to the door. Of Yang who fell infinite miles into the void before Blake fell an equal distance to her knees, of finding Gambol Shroud and trying her very best to gather her courage to honor her teammates best.

Weiss wakes up in the woods, stumbles to her feet, looks around. There’s water to be searched for, and sustenance to be gathered. She’s got a long journey ahead of her, after all.  

Ruby’s waiting for her.

[ms-indifferwnt]

I’m Cold

“I'm cold"

"And?"

"Can't you give me your jacket or something?"

"Can't you accept my proposal and marry me already?"

In which Prince Donghyuck's parents are forcing him to get married and he decided to propose to the first girl he sees to shut his parents up

Genre: Prince!Lee Donghyuck x Maid!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Arranged Marriage (kinda), Slowburn

Warnings: Curse words, Suggestive (I'll add more if there are)

Notes: Chapter 3 of Im Cold. Sorry this one took longer, hope you guys enjoy

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

Prev / Chapter 3 / Next

Y/n was screaming in frustration o to her pillow, Damn the Prince's good Looks, Damn the Prince's words, Damn the Prince's Kindness, Damn it all!

Y/n sighs after screaming on to her pillow, she flips over back against the soft covers, she couldn't help but think about how the evening end up like this. How could she say yes? After Prince Donghyuck has asked for two Weeks what happened?

"No" Y/n replied and stood up

Donghyuck grabbed her by the wrist, it wasn't forceful nor was it tight, Prince Donghyuck gave her an opportunity to pull away, to take her wrist away from the Prince, But why didn't she? "Please" He pleaded and Y/n's eyes widened "At least think it over, if you are still determined to tell my parents I will gladly assist you but please, at least until we're done eating dinner, think it over"

Y/n was shocked to see the prince pleading, asking her to think about it, was this that important to the prince? She nods, fine after dinner she'll reject him, she was getting fed up with how stubborn he is, it wasn't just messing up with the royal family's values, it was also bothering with her life, her own private life, how she is being seen, how people address her whole life went upside down just because the prince lost his temper

Donghyuck nods and stands bowing towards her, "I'm sorry, I know I have troubled you" He confesses and Y/n grabbed him by the shoulders to make  him stand straight but he wouldn't budge "I know that by making you do this I have placed you in a hard position" she shakes her head and tears start trickling  his eyes, it was all overwhelming, her feelings and the Prince' words being all too heavy on her conscience, the tears weren't necessary nor was it intentional but before she could realize, a sob leaves her lips and Prince Donghyuck's reaction was quick, he stood up straight hands out to hold her as she starts wiping her face

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying" she whimpers and keeps wiping her face with her hands, The prince pulls her hands away and uses his handkerchief to wipe her tears, no words were exchanged, not until she calmed down

Neither noticed it but the Prince'd hand always hovered near the girl's as if waiting for the right moment to hold her hand. The Prince looks at her and she was staring at the cloth in her hand, it was simple, laced in golden thread "Do you like sweets?" The Prince suddenly spoke making her look at him and she nods, he smiles softly and takes her hand in his "Let's go get some ice-cream"

       Morning comes and Y/n wakes up to the sound of Prince Donghyuck's voice "Hana, which one is better?"

Y/n opened her eyes to be greeted by Prince Donghyuck looking through her closet "Goodmorning" he greets and moves to kiss her forehead, Y/n still freezes at the action but smiled "I've chosen your outfit for today so we can match" Donghyuck pats his thighs to show off the color and smiles, standing up to hold her hand and help her out of bed, "Wear this" he shows a pretty blue floral lace Bardot dress, pattern adorned with white and pink roses while lace covers the edges the color matching the Prince's blue-ish dress pants "Get her dressed Hana"

And at the Prince's words, Hana leads Y/n to the conjoined bathroom, helping her clean up and get dressed fixing the way it hugs her curves, and Hana smiles, applying a bit of touch-ups on her skin and fixing her hair. She was done and Y/n looked into the mirror, Hana has fixed her hair into a half-up bun style making it look messy yet classy, the hairstyle complementing the dress

They both left the bathroom only to be greeted by the prince facing away from the bathroom door looking at his phone "Done? Can I turn and see?"

Y/n blinks, the Prince purposefully turned away to give her space and privacy, she smiles softly "Yes you can turn around now"

The prince turns around and he smiles at the sight, but then he wrapped one arm around his waist as a support for his elbow where he places his chin on his palm eyeing her "Something's missing" he mumbled

Y/n blinks and tilts her head as Hana turns to look at Y/n "Jewelry?" Hana offers and the Prince nods, with the Maid immediately reacting walking to get the Jewelry box from the vanity, "Milady has a wide assortment of jewelry here, my Prince" she says and turns only to gasp at the sight

The Prince had invaded Y/n's personal bubble, him being so close their chest could be flushed against each other, her hair was out of the way while the Prince had his arms around her neck as he tries and clasps the necklace. In all honesty, if he wanted to help her wear it he could've done it from behind not doing it while almost hugging Y/n

Y/n could feel the Prince's breath fan against her neck at the close proximity, she blushes and moved to hold on to the blazer in front of her until finally, the prince locks the necklace tracing a cold finger against the chain, she tried, she just couldn't help but feel the goosebumps rise against her skin where he had touched "There, you look pretty" he smiles his finger stopping at the pendant only to return tracing against her collar bones and down her arms. Y/n would be lying if she says the prince didn't have an effect on her, cause, oh how her heart raced at the action, silently willing them to stop, he traces lower 'till he holds her hand looking at her wrist "Let us get you a bracelet" he lets go of her only to look through the jewelry box

Hana stood there in shock, cheeks a shade of red at the display of affection, standing off to the side, knowing that she shouldn't react unless Y/n or the Prince might need her

The Prince would take time, looking through the wide assortment of bracelets and looking at the Y/n to look at her wrists and then dress, only to resume his search. Y/n on the other hand had examined the pendant of the necklace, it was a flower, a white flower pendant with delicate details on to its petals, making it look as if it is blooming "It's called a gardenia flower"

She looks into his eyes "what?" she blinks a bit surprises

He points to the pendant "That a gardenia flower, do you like it?" he asks and stands up fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves

She nods shyly "It's a pretty flower" he nods and takes his watch  off, it was a simple watch, it had a golden chain strap along with its case, a black tint on the watch itself  "You have a pretty watch" she murmurs and the Prince smiles

"Good, cause you'll be using this today" he replies and walks up to her  so he can hold her wrist, placing the watch on and locking it in place "Its a bit big on you," he laughs as if finding the whole ordeal cute "Remind me later, lets go on jewelry shopping ok?" Y/n nods silently and he examines Y/n, nodding in approval at the sight he smiles and locks there fingers "Lets go, lets have breakfast together then we can go out to my schedules ok?" he says as he leads her out of her room and into the dining hall

Letting him lead her out, "I'm sorry, My Prince-" she starts but the prince cuts her off

"You should get used to calling me Donghyuck for the next two weeks" he murmurs and turns his head to look at her and smiled "What were you saying?"

She clears her throat and avoided eye contact "Why do I have to come with you on your schedule?"

He hums as if thinking of the right words to answer her question "well, It would be great to show my parents that I am 'serious'," He makes air quotes with his free hand "about you, a plus to make them believe that i need time to heal when we do break up. And, it gets lonely when I'm the only one going"

       "Where is this meeting being held exactly, My Prince?" Y/n asked as she turns away from the car window to look at the Prince only to get a raised eyebrow in return "Donghyuck" she corrects and he nods in approval

"At a café, we'll be meeting with someone, he claims that this project he proposes will help a lot of people"

"Then why must you be the one to interview them? wouldn't it be better for the King and Queen to address that matter themselves?"

"Well, Yes. But not everything will go through the King and Queen, first they have to go through me to make sure its worth seeing by them and then the decision is ultimately theirs"

"Ah" she hums softly and nods "I understand" she smiles and Donghyuck couldn't help but smile back

Once they arrive, The Prince leads Y/n by the hand to a man dressed in a fancy suit he stands and bows towards the new arrivals "My name Johnny, thank you for giving me a chance to speak to you your highness"

Donghyuck bows and smiles "Of course,. I'd like you to meet my Fiancé, Y/n this Suh Johnny, a dear friend and at the moment a benefactor" he smiles informs and Johnny bows in her direction with her mirroring the action, "Please sit." They all obeyed

Johnny was very convincing and honestly, the Prince liked his proposal but as Johnny excused himself to go to the bathroom, Donghyuck turned to Y/n "What do you think?"

She blinked in confusion "Sorry?" she tilts her head slightly and Donghyuck had resist the urge to grab her by the chin so that he can adjust it "But why are you asking me, my Prince?"

He frowns "Donghyuck, Y/n, please call me Donghyuck, you earned the title of being my friend in this predicament you and I are in" earning a nod from the girl and he hums "but to answer your question, its because you might know what's best" she watches him as he spoke "I have not once tried living as if I wasn't a prince, I've never went to the market or done house chores, but you have and you do, compared to me you know what can help improve the way my people work and move, so I'm asking you, what did you think of his proposal?"

Y/n lets the Prince's words sink in as she looks down at her lap, she never thought that it'd come to this, The crowned prince asking her opinion but here she was "Yes, It'll be of great help" she started and started explaining the points on why and how it could improve, stating facts and sharing little stories along the way with her explanation as the Prince attentively listened and nodded

After she spoke, the Prince nodded and smiled at her "that is great Y/n" he moves to hold her hand cupping them "Thank you" he beams he opens his mouth to speak only to be stopped by Johnny returning and the Prince drops her hand

"I'm sorry" Johnny says and sat down "May I continue?" and the prince nods "As I was saying adding homes, giving the people their own job that is cleaning up our parks can lessen our rate of jobless citizens and also lessen out the homeless-"

Johnny was cut off to the prince swerving to the side and looking at his Fiancé "What's your favorite cake flavor?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Cake flavor," he repeats and nods towards the different displays and grins "What is it?"

She looks at Johnny who smiles at her "Mocha" she answers and he hums "you really do have a sweet tooth hmm?" he raises a hand to flag down a waiter "and coffee?" he turns to look at her then stops "No, Sorry you hate coffee... One Mocha cake and," he hums going back to when he bought ice cream for her and smiled "two cups of Hot Chocolate please, would you like anything Johnny?"

"Just coffee" He replies

"Black Coffee for him" Donghyuck says and the waiter bows, "Sorry, continue" and with that Johnny continues

Donghyuck is now to make a decision, if he says yes, Johnny will speak to his parents about his proposal and he hums, giving his and Y/n's words to careful consideration, his eyes drifting to Y/n as she took a bite "feed me" he says out of the blue making Y/n and Johnny look at him surprised

"I can't think without sugar and I drank my milk, just one bite" he coaxes and, Y/n offered him a bit which he happily accepted, looking at Johnny he grins "I hope my parents like your idea as much as we did Johnny"

[everlarkficexchange]

Just Close Your Eyes, You'll Be Alright

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 154: Soulmate au where your soulmates injuries and scars show up on your body tinted in their favorite color. Katniss through the years as she discovers new marks, pondering what it could possibly be, finally figuring out that her soulmate is being hurt way too regularly and in very specific places. Do her parents figure out Peeta is being abused? How do they find and “rescue” him? Or does Peeta live his whole childhood being abused before turning 18? Does he runaway? How do he and Katniss find their way to one another? [submitted by @lovely-tothe-bone / @peetamewllark]

Teen and up

AU- Modern setting (but like without cell phones). One Shot. 

Warnings: Canon typical violence, Language, child abuse and neglect, injuries, implied (non-descriptive) underage smut. Nobody dies! Unbetaed. 

-lyrics of Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift, Feat. The Civil Wars - Songs from District 12 and Beyond (2012)

Author’s note: Thank you to @lovely-tothe-bone for her inspiring prompt and to the organizers of EFE, for bringing the challenge back so faithfully, you ladies rock! 

KPKPKPKP

“Look at her!” Papa screeched at the policeman, lifting the back of my favorite pink polka dotted shirt. “You have to do something about this, Sheriff Cray!” Papa demanded, angrily.

  The man just watched, like he didn’t care. Then sat back down lazily, “There’s nothing much I can do, to be honest. Unless you can produce the child sporting the actual bruises, my hands are tied.” Said the policeman.

  I had no idea what the problem was, I felt fine, but ever since my 5th birthday, every time Mama helped me out of my day clothes for my bath, she wept and held me close to her chest, whispering “No child deserves to be treated so poorly,”

  Papa too always made a face and looked sad and angry when Mama showed him my back after my baths. 

  It was funny how bath time could easily be my favorite time of day, but it made the grown ups upset somehow. I just liked that mama would rub ointments on my back, bottom and thighs, carefully and without fuzzing about the time she was spending away from my baby sister, Primrose. Is not that I didn’t like Prim— I thought she was as lovely as a doll— I didn’t mind sharing mama’s snuggles with her either, but it was nice to just feel mama’s warm hands caressing me to sleep every now and then. 

  Either way, I wished someone would tell me what was so wrong with my behind that had the grown ups acting so weird. 

  They were starting to scare me, really.

  “There has to be something we can do! There are genetic tests to determine matchless people, couldn’t we use the same technology to find the markers matching my daughter’s counterpart to identify him?” 

  “Mr. Everdeen, I’m not a geneticist. I wouldn’t know about anything like it… and who’s to say we could use it to find your girl’s soulmate? Then we what? It’ll open an unknown Pandora’s box situation, people would start tracking soulmates illegally or something less than honorable. It’ll certainly set a precedent we cannot foresee the ramifications of!”

  “You’re telling me that there’s some kid out there, somewhere, getting beaten week in and week out, and you’ll do nothing about it?! You’ll allow the abuse to continue uninterrupted?” 

  The man nodded slowly, “You said it yourself, Mr. Everdeen. The kid’s ‘out there, somewhere’, we don’t even know if he’s local, or his age. In any case, I only have jurisdiction over District 12, and I can’t very well launch a country wide investigation on an alleged case of abuse, specially if  we have no victim,”

  “But my daughter’s soulmate is suffering! Who knows what permanent damage this poor child may have as an adult! It’s my daughter’s future we’re talking about!”

  “Most unfortunate, sir. I don’t wanna seem unsympathetic, Mr. Everdeen, but unless your little girl can figure out a way to communicate with her soulmate, find… an address— at the very least a name— there isn’t anything we can do to help.”

  Papa huffed, his nose flared, “Fine. Thank you for your consideration…Sheriff.” Papa put his big ol’ hand on my shoulder and guided me away, “Come on Katniss, it’s time to go home.”

  I looked up at Papa and reached for his hand. I smiled at him, “It’s okay, Papa. Mama says to give grumpy people time, and they may be nicer the next time we talk to them.”

  Papa smiled at me, but it didn’t crinkled the corner of his eyes, like real smiles did, “That’s nice sweetie… although, that usually only applies to people just waking up from naps, like you and me,”

  I giggled when he picked me up and tickled my tummy. 

  Papa kept talking to grown ups about my back, but nothing was ever done about it. 

  ———————-

I was 11 when our world pitched upside down. 

  Papa was one the foramen on shift at the town’s coal mine when the earth shifted and an entire tunnel collapsed. 

  Prim and I were in school when the sirens went off. There’s nothing worse than to hear the end of your world being advertised so loudly and without mercy. 

  I grabbed my sister’s hand and rushed to the mines; we found our mother there, clinging to the yellow tape cordoning off the site. 

  I should’ve known something wasn’t right when I was the one seeking Mama out, trying to comfort her, instead of the other way around. It was the first time the concept of a soulmate stopped being an abstract notion, and became a reality, because my mother stopped functioning altogether the moment she realized Papa had been hurt.

  I saw how much a soulmate could affect you. It wasn’t only the marks on the skin— those came without conscious pain— it was the fear of knowing that someone you loved was hurting, sometimes badly, and not being able to do anything about it. 

  Mama’s left leg started glowing pink from the shin down at first, and the color began to shift to a darker red the longer Papa laid underground. 

  Unbeknownst to us, my father had been pinned under fallen rock and dirt after pushing a man to safety, risking his own life. The sharp end of a pickax perforated Papa’s leg in the cave-in. The pickaxe worked as a plug, keeping him from bleeding out while he waited for the rescue crew to reach him. 

  Papa laid on the floor of the very last lift to surface with rescued miners. He was unconscious. Had suffered extensive blood loss. The lone medic in the rescue crew couldn’t fix him up right away, but Mama was a nurse, and like a switch flipping on, she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, and tied a tourniquet around my father’s thigh, saving his life at the cost of his limb. 

  My father lived, but his leg had to be amputated. 

  He couldn’t work in the mines anymore, and what little money we got as compensation from his injuries, were put into paying off the mortgage, because Papa decided that having a roof over his family’s heads was far more important than having a leg. 

  The rub was, a roof didn’t fill our stomachs or put a coat around Prim’s shivering shoulders. Mama put a hold on her nursing career, obsessing over Papa’s care, despite his protests. Someone had to pick up the pieces, and that someone turned to be me. 

  I started selling everything I could carry out of the house in my arms: tools, kitchen appliances, small furniture, etc. But we never had many possessions to begin with, so my wares ran out soon, and I turned to our closets for their meager treasures.

  I sold my parents best clothes, along with my sister’s winter boots that didn’t fit her anymore. I looked at my own shoes with longing, but put them into Primrose’s shoe rack, deciding I could manage with Mama’s boots, if I stuffed them with newspaper. Mama never left the house anyway. Neither did Papa for that matter, but he wasn’t dead, just convalescencing, so I left him a pair of footwear just in case, and sold his work boots and his Sunday loafers. 

  The day I was down to the last pair of clothing, we had been slurping on mint tea for the third day in a row from a few old leaves I found in the very back of the pantry. It was the last of our food, besides Papa’s bland diet, but I refused to let on on how precariously stocked we were, until absolutely necessary.

  But, nobody wanted the hand-me-down baby clothes I had for sale, nor the slightly beaten stroller I was pushing around with my ‘merchandise’. 

  Icy cold rain, soaked me to the bone. I was so tired and downtrodden, I ran to the first awning I found, unwilling to go back home to Prim’s sunken blue eyes and chapped lips, asking for something to eat, while my hands were empty. 

  I tripped and fell face first on the umbrella stroller, breaking it irreparably and soiling the few onesies I’d been trying to sell. 

  With my wares ruined, and winded by a sharp pain shooting through my elbow, I limped towards a scraggly apple tree a few feet away. I recognized the place as the alley behind the town’s bakery, just by the smell alone. 

  I cupped my elbow, wondering if I’d broken it or merely banged it up? That’s when I saw the dumpster. 

  Big ugly thing, dirty and smelly. I climbed a wooden crate to dig for anything edible inside, but before I could lift the lid, a screeching voice shouted at me.

  “Get out of there, Seam brat!” 

  I jumped off the crate, startled, and cowed behind the dumpster when I saw the baker’s grumpy wife sneering at me from the warmth of her kitchen’s back door. 

  A boy about my age— I recognized him as one of my classmates from school— peeked his towheaded face around the woman, and although they were a good five yards away, I could see his blue eyes widened as he took me in. The boy slipped back inside, as his mother spewed threats of calling the police on me and whatnot.

  I started debating whether I wanted to trace back and drag my broken stroller over; pretend I was merely trying to dump it in the garbage, while inspecting the trash for food… but the baker’s wife was nicknamed the Witch by all the neighborhood children for a reason. 

  Before my mind was made, a loud, metallic bang resonated into the street from inside the bakery. Yelling ensued, then the sound of a meaty hand against a small face. 

  A few seconds later, the witch was chasing the boy out the back door, “Toss it in the trash, you stupid creature! Nobody will pay money for burnt bread anyway!” 

  The boy scurried by with his head down. 

  My eyes stuck on the bread in his hands, was probably the reason I missed the shiner under his eye. He stopped right in front of the dumpster, but instead of throwing the ruined loaves in, he tossed them in my direction. 

  I didn’t wait around to ask if he meant for me to grab them. I just scooped them up and fled like a bat out of heck. 

  When I got home, Mama gasped in horror. She grabbed me by the shoulders and pressed me to her chest. “Oh no! It’s getting worse. They don’t even care to hide the bruises anymore!” 

  Mama lathered my face with all the medicinal herbs she had at hand, while apologizing profusely for abandoning me and Prim to our own devices. She vowed to find a job, and to take better care of us. 

  “No child should ever suffer like this!” I couldn’t tell if she meant Prim and I, or whoever my soulmate was.

  Mama interrogated me about my whereabouts and how I came upon the bread in my arms, but she seemed to rest easier after a while. 

  When I was finally able to look at my face in the mirror, I was horror struck by the deep orange bruise swelling under my eye. It took three days for the bruise to go away completely even with mama’s careful fingers.

  Coincidentally, the baker’s son didn’t show up to school for the next four days. By the time he did, I had lost any confidence in myself to go up to him and thank him for the bread that fed us for a few days; the loaves were perfect! Only the crust had been charred, but I had a hunch the boy knew that when he threw the bread to me; I was also convinced he burned the bread on purpose, I was just too chicken to ask him why? Which made it even harder to hold his gaze when we crossed each other in the school hallways. 

  All I knew was that because of the selfless actions of the boy in my year at school, my mother seemed to wake from her single minded obsession. The boy with the bread gave our family a sense of hope, despite the fact that it would take some time for Mama to find work and produce enough money for the family. Papa’s medical needs had to be met as well, and he was due a new leg. 

  While those thoughts churned in my head, my eyes focused on a bright yellow bloom across the school yard. The first dandelion of the season! I picked the cheerful blossom, and the idea on how to feed my family until Mama was back on her feet, came to me. 

  After school, I took Prim’s hand and a clean bucket in the other; together we scoured the yard and the woods nearby for all the dandelions we could fit in the bucket. That night, we gorged ourselves on dandelion salad, and the next day, I pulled from under my parent’s bed, the only thing of value we had left in the house, Papa’s hunting bow. 

  “Are you sure you can handle it, pumpkin?” My father asked, watching me carefully.

  “You taught me how to do it,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.

  “I taught you with a smaller bow,” he pointed out, “why don’t use yours?”

  I shouldered the heavy bow, and took a few loose arrows in my hand, “I sold it. These are all we have left now,”

  After a handful of days practicing, I actually shot  something worth eating. Seeing my mother’s blue eyes pop in surprise when I dropped the dead rabbit on the table, was priceless. 

  ——————-

  One early morning, right before summer break, I happened across another hunter… a trapper, to be precise. 

  A lanky, scowling boy, with three fat bunnies tied to his belt, and a fourth hanging in the air by a simple— yet elegant— wire snare. 

  I’d seen his traps before, his prey with their dead eyes and lolling tongues, just high enough off the ground to keep other animals from taking off with them. Papa told me that hunter etiquette was to be observed; if I happened across a trap that wasn’t mine, I was not to touch it, out of respect for my fellow hunters. That still didn’t discourage me from looking! After all, the snares looked like works of art, and I had no idea how to set any on my own.

  “Stealing is a punishable offense, you know,” Snapped the boy, and suddenly I realized just how tall he was. 

  From up close, I could see the beginning of some stubble under his chin. 

  “I wasn’t gonna take it…” I stepped away from the twitching bunny, with my hands raised in surrender. “Admiring your work, that’s all. By the way, I’m Katniss Everdeen, what’s your name?” I asked, trying to be friendly. 

  “Name’s Gale. Hawthorne. So… you know how to use the thing hanging from your back, Catnip, or is that just for show?” He practically bumped me onto my butt, stepping passed me while pulling a knife from his belt to cut his kill down. He turned to watch me, smirking. “That thing looks bigger than you, are you sure you can lift it up?”

  I scowled at him, wondering if he was expecting to see me squirm or something. I was smaller than the average 12 year old, but I was fast and scrappy. 

  “My name is KatNISS. I can shoot my own food thank you very much,” I held my bow aloft and moved so he could see my quiver full of arrows, “my weapons aren’t props or fakes,” I said, haughtily.

  “Yeah, well, it still looks bigger than you,”

  I rolled my eyes, fed up. Any other time I’d meekly shy away, and let him be; but I was feeling stubborn and confrontational, so I pulled my bow, nocked an arrow and let it fly, all in a fluid motion. 

  Gale gaped with a hint of fear in his gray eyes. 

  I felt smug and satisfied. 

  I wasn’t aiming at anything in particular, I just wanted the obnoxious boy to shut it, but by a stroke of luck my arrow pierced a falling leaf, and imbedded itself deep into the knot of a gnarly looking tree trunk. 

  “Wow! That was amazing, Catnip!” Gale said in awe. 

  “It’s Katniss… I’m okay, my father was better,” I said, puffing my chest a little, “I haven’t managed stealth yet, not like Papa before the accident, anyway. He doesn’t hunt anymore.”

  Gale frowned. “Was your dad in the cave-in?” He asked grimly.

  I nodded. 

  “So was mine. He almost didn’t make it.”

  “Same.”

  He just stood there, staring at the ground for a moment, then I tried to play cool, “Hey, I’d be willing to spare some shooting lessons, in exchange for some snaring techniques,” 

  Gale watched me, intently. He finally nodded and stuck his hand out for me to shake, “Deal!” 

  I smiled. Papa always said that good hunting partners were hard to find, and while I didn’t want a new hunting partner— I already had my father!— I could always exchange knowledge with a fellow hunter and improve my game. 

——————-

Papa was fitted with a basic prosthetic leg. He couldn’t run or swim with it, but having the ability to walk without crutches gave him a “new lease in life”, as he called it. 

  He found work doing odd jobs for Haymitch Abernathy, a hermit drunk, with more money than he knew what to do with, and no family to spend it on. The man needed someone to talk to every now and then, and seeing as he and my father were close in age, they developed a strange rapport between them. 

  Still, Papa wasn’t completely confident with his fake leg, no matter how many physical therapies he attended; he still walked with a pronounced limp. Yet, he always had a word of comfort for Mama. 

  My mother often blamed herself for Papa’s disability. 

  He’d tell her that she did the right thing, that it was thanks to her torniquete he was still alive, and she should never doubt her own healing skills. But every now and then, my mother would catch a glance of her permanently grey skinned leg, and silent tears would slide down her exhausted, pretty face.

  By then, I was old enough to know that the soft orange marks hidden under my clothes, meant a kid somewhere in Panem, probably my age, was getting beaten on a regular basis. It was sad to think about, but I’d grown so used to the marks, they felt like a distant happening without a meaningful connection to me. The bruises were there… just shy of a shirt sleeve, or around mid thigh, where they could be concealed by shorts; the way I saw them, they were like oversized freckles that came and went. A nuisance. That’s why watching my mother weep over her shadowy leg, was always unnerving and a little odd. 

  Was I supposed to despair the same way she did over my own soulmate marks? Was I broken or heartless if I didn’t feel as strongly? 

  Until I saw my mother’s grief over her soulmate’s leg, it didn’t register to me just how much the orange bruises were supposed to affect me. 

  I started to think if I wasn’t any better than the person dispensing the punches.

  One day, I was leaning on my parents bedroom door, watching Mama applying soothing oils to her gray leg with the utmost love and care.

  “Why do you rub so much medicine on your leg? It doesn’t seem to be bringing back your normal color,” I asked, staring where her fingers massaged into her flesh. 

  Mama stopped and called me over, to stand on her side of the bed. 

  “Papa is fast asleep, do you see?” She pointed out, kindly.

  I looked past her shoulder, where my father was sprawled on the mattress on his stomach, dead to the world. 

  I nodded.

  Mama smiled, “Do you remember all we’ve told you about soulmates? I’m sure they’ve taught you at school other stuff as well,” 

  Again, I nodded, just a little puzzled. “Soulmates have a very strong bond. They can’t feel when the other hurts, but they can see the marks, tinted in their favorite colors. That’s how we identify our soulmates, because we match and they can see themselves reflected back.” 

  “Exactly.” Said my mother, beaming. “Now, your papa and I are soulmates, and we love each other very much. When Papa’s leg was separated from his body, my body reflected that loss, despite still retaining my own leg. We match. The one thing most people don’t seem to realize, is that the connection goes both ways. I may not feel the physical pain Papa does, but I can still do things to my leg to help him feel better.

  “For example, when he feels phantom itches, I scratch and his itching sensation goes away. When he can’t fall asleep because he’s uncomfortable without his leg, I massage lavender oil on mine, until he relaxes and goes to sleep. Everything I do to heal my body, and take care of it, helps my soulmate feel better.”

  “Is that why you put lotions on my marks? To help my soulmate feel better?” 

  Mama’s lips thinned out; she didn’t like talking about the orange marks on my body. 

  “Katniss,” she said very seriously, “I tend to your bruises because I love you. I worry about your soulmate, because I love you. I try to keep you as healthy and happy as possible, because that will help your soulmate heal faster… because I love you. I can cure your soulmate’s body through yours, but I cannot protect his heart, mind, or feelings. Right now, you both are too young to feel the pull of your bond, but one day, when your bodies have matured, you’ll have this… yearning, to find one another, and then, I just hope, whoever your soulmate is, knows we tried to help.”

  I cocked my head, “Should I be sad every time new marks show up?”

  Mama inhaled a deep breath, “We should feel sad every time a child is mistreated, darling, no matter how we’re related,”

  From that day on, I paid close attention to every child in my class for bruises matching mine. I also kept pomades and tinctures in my school bag, in case I ever saw another kid getting hurt. I wouldn’t say I started to develop deeper feelings for my soulmate after that, but I did feel deeper empathy for my classmates… I just couldn’t stomach big injuries, gore or vomit, but smaller cuts and bruises… those I could manage. 

————————

“Silver Anderson figured out her cousin was dating her soulmate!” A girl in my year was telling a cluster of other 15 year-old girls in the locker room. “Do you remember how Silver has been wearing a turtleneck for the last two days with this darned awful heat?”

  The other girls hummed their yeses. 

  “Well, is because Silver’s soulmate had a hickey on the throat, given by Silver’s cousin, who was his girlfriend or whatever. But apparently the cousin went over to visit Silver with her boyfriend, and one look at the guy’s neck, and Silver recognized the mark!” 

  There were gasps all around. 

  It wasn’t rare to hear of soulmates having relationships with other people before finding each other, but it was almost unheard of a relative dating somebody’s soulmate so close.

  I finished tying up my shoelaces, and started rebranding my hair, making a mental note to double shampoo, to get all the sweat out.

  “What an idiot! Who gets hickeys from their ‘whiles’?” Snorted somebody. 

  I wasn’t much for gossip, but even I had to agree. 

  ‘Whiles’, weren’t permanent romantic interests, they were just to pass the time while waiting to find your soulmate. ‘Whiles’ were people to satisfy ones curiosity about dating and that kind of stuff, with no strings attached or substance; ‘whiles’ had a bad connotation associated with. 

  “Oh, the boy had never gotten one mark in his body that wasn’t his, so, he assumed he didn’t have a soulmate, and the cousin has already been confirmed to be a matchless.”

  A big “Oh!” Swept the room. 

  Matchless were born without a soulmate, which meant they could choose to be with whoever they wanted as long as they were matchless as well, or with nobody at all. 

  Sometimes I envied their freedom to choose, but other times I felt a sense of safety, knowing there was a person somewhere in the world meant just for me and me to them. 

  Soulmates were genetically evolved to complement one another, but some just wanted to experiment before settling down. Lately, though, matchless births were growing in number, and that upset people for whatever reason, as if the freedom of choice was scary or a curse, then again matchless were usually whiles and those were looked down on. 

  “That’s awful!” Said a girl.

  “I knew Silver’s near freakish obsession with keeping her skin pristine and hidden would bring her issues finding her soulmate someday,” Declared another.

  “I don’t think she wanted to find him,” whispered someone else.

  “Oh well, they did find each other! You can’t hide from your destiny. That’s just silly!”

  “Either way, I feel bad for the cousin, because apparently she and Silver’s soulmate were talking about marriage, since they thought they were both matchless.” Informed the first one. 

  I lost interest in the conversation when it turned speculative, and stood up to shove my P.E. uniform into my locker. 

  Someone suddenly called, “Everdeen, how about those orange blooms on your arms?” 

  My eyes widened, and immediately, I dropped my arms, pulling my sleeves as far down as they would go to cover my soulmate’s private marks.

  “Oh… um… yeah. My mother thinks my soulmate might be an athlete,” I stuttered; Mama had only said such a thing in passing once, when a couple bruises appeared that didn’t match the usual ones. “Also, he seems to work with his hands. Lots of nicks and scrapes.” I wiggled my fingers in front of me. That much was true, my soulmate probably wore those marks freely.

  “Oooh!” A girl, Delly Cartwright, reached to take a closer look. “Could be a carpenter. Or a locksmith? Maybe a farmer!”

  “It could be the blacksmith’s son! Doesn’t Silver have an unmarried brother?” Asked another girl.

  “Yeah… a kid like 10! Ugh, Everdeen, I really hope he’s not your soulmate… can you imagine being so much older than your soulmate?!” Interjected the same girl that spotted my bruises. 

  I scowled. Age was a stupid thing to complain about. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to have an age gap between soulmates… my father was six years older than my mother, and Mrs. Sae from the Soup Corner at the market, was a handful of years older than her soulmate. 

  Still…

  “No. My soulmate is most likely my age. I’ve gotten his marks my whole life,” I shrugged, absently rubbing my arm, where the brand new bruise appeared that morning. 

  “Oh… at least that’s something. Knowing that your soulmate isn’t so much younger than you, and that he might at least have an apprenticeship somewhere,”

  “Right,” I said, turning away, wondering if it was awful of me to wish for a boy who never got marks on his body, like Silver’s pristine skin? At least that would mean my soulmate was safe and treated fairly. 

———————-

Papa and I shared many qualities. I inherited his coloring: olive skin, gray eyes, dark, straight hair, our penchant for singing mountain ballads, and the same quickening of the blood when we got a kill during hunting. Prim favored our mother more closely, with their fair skin, blonde wavy licks and blue eyes, they also were more skilled as healers and more soft-hearted towards animals. 

  The day Prim brought home a half dead cat, riddled with fleas and missing an ear to be patched up and adopted into our family, my first instinct was to drown the orange pelt and be done with it, but Prim got upset and worked up, and I just couldn’t stomach her cries over what I considered to be the world’s ugliest cat… his face was flat, like it’d been smashed against a wall…

  It took a long time to calm my sister down, and Papa made me pinky promise that I wouldn’t kill the fur sack and pretend it ran away, which I only did reluctantly, because I loved my sister and didn’t want her to be crossed with me. 

  Papa asked me to walk with him into the woods, afterwards, which I did readily. 

  Before he lost his leg, we used to go hunting all the time; everything I knew about hunting and foraging, I learned from him. But after losing his leg, we’ve only gone to the woods to hike and get him used to his prosthesis in the uneven terrain. 

  It was good exercise for him. The fresh air seemed to lift his spirits too. 

  We didn’t hunt together anymore. Papa’s tread wasn’t feather-like the way it used to be, prey scattered away before we even saw it.  

  It was alright. We enjoyed being out there together, and he still had lots to teach me about edible plants. Sometimes he’d find one of his old spiles, and then it would hit me: all his knowledge would’ve been lost if he’d died in that cave-in. I would’ve never known where to look for those spiles; I wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to harvest sap and turn it into syrup. 

  Sometimes, I had to sit down and catch my breath when those thoughts knocked the wind out of me. 

  I was having one such moment, when out of the blue, my father spoke in a low, calmed tone. 

  “There’s a new chief of police,” he said while sitting on a log, next to me. 

  “I heard.” I wasn’t trying to be snippy with him, but every time a new chief or sheriff was appointed to our district, Papa wanted to run back into the precinct, and demand they look for my soulmate. 

  Appealing to the police never led anywhere. It didn’t matter if they had new staff, they always gave us the same spiel: can’t investigate an abuse case without a victim. They couldn’t go looking for a person without a name or an address. 

  After a while, one just started feeling like it was an impossible task, to help one child feel safe. 

  Papa sighed. “We could try ourselves. I’ve been saving some money, and we could—“

  “What? We could what?” I snapped. “We could go door to door visiting every little town in Panem until we find the bruised up mutt matching me?” I was at the verge of tears. 

  Mama said that once my body was matured enough, I’d start feeling the pull. Well, I kinda felt it, calling desperately. It started around my 14th birthday, when I started having a regular cycle, and puberty was at its summit. 

  First, I was curious about my other half and began cataloguing all the soulmate marks I could see easily. Suddenly I had whole maps of my hands and arms, and legs. Mama suggested I keep track of my hidden marks too, just in case. The curiosity persisted and evolved into an incessant wondering: where was he? How was he getting along? How could I help him protect himself? 

  “Haymitch may have a way, sweetheart. He knows people, and he likes you… he says you’ve got spunk,” Papa smirked.

  I’d met Haymitch Abernathy countless times. He was rude and sarcastic. I usually responded to him in kind, earning myself a host of reprimands from my parents— although Papa still couldn’t hide his pride, despite trying his hardest. 

  “What would he know about soulmates anyway?” I muttered.

  Papa shook his head, standing up, “Haymitch lost his girl, mother and brother all at once during a special outing. There was a car crash. Haymitch was badly hurt, but survived. His family didn’t. His soulmate was 16, so was him. The government paid him excessively for damages and the loss of his soulmate, because it was proved the city had skimped on roadside safety that caused the accident. But money didn’t fill the void of losing his loved ones. Haymitch never recovered. 

  “He told me once that losing a soulmate is akin to drowning. Except you’re still breathing without filling your lungs with oxygen…” Papa picked up the bucket we brought to collect sap, and smiled sadly at me. “Katniss, I may be exaggerating by hounding the police about your soulmate, but sometimes I worry that if we don’t find that kid soon, you could very well share Haymitch’s fate. Believe me when I say that I’d do anything in this world, to keep that from happening to you.” 

  I turned 16 that spring.

  I started carrying a small mirror on me, to try and look over my shoulders into places I couldn’t reach, obsessing over every little mark that sprouted anew on my back. 

  I wasn’t sure if the all consuming watching, and the doubts that kept me up at night, not knowing what was being done to my soulmate, wondering if he’d survive another day, was the pull Mama talked about, or simply terror at becoming the next Haymitch Abernathy. Either way, I became more vigilant for injured teens around me, but a sinking feeling in my gut started nagging at me, that my soulmate was an expert at hiding in plain sight by now… how would I ever find him if he was as adept at camouflaging as I suspected?

—————————

“This spot is perfectly in the middle of the turkeys’ path.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest to glare at Gale, “You just spilled a bunch of blood there. No critter is gonna come this way anymore with that stink.”

  “Turkeys aren’t that smart, Catnip,” Gale looked up from his belt after securing his new catch— his pants were covered in gore from where the rabbit nearly cut its own foot off trying to fight the snare’s grip. “I’m more than confident that if we set traps here, we’ll catch at least a fat Tom…more if we set up a system wide enough,”

  After a somewhat rocky start, Gale and I learned to respect each other’s skills, even joining forces for certain seasons, like deer and turkey hunting. We also fished together on occasion. It was safe to say we had a friendship after three… almost four years of partnership in the woods. At 18 Gale was less obnoxious, but still a stubborn ass. 

  “And I’m telling you, the path is tainted now. We need to put feed on the other side of the bushes, to keep them in the area.”

  “That’ll take weeks!” 

  “Then you shouldn’t have let that bunny bleed to death in here!” 

  “Listen here, Catnip—” whatever he was about to say, died in his throat.

  “What?!” I demanded, angrily, when he just stared at me horror struck.

  “Your nose!” He roared. “Your eyes!” He tumbled forward, and squished my cheeks in his one, long-fingered hand. “There’s more coming!”

  I yanked myself away from him. “Cut it out!”

  “I think your soulmate is getting the shit beaten out of!”

  I grunted and brought my fingers to my face, as if I could feel the changes. 

  Gale had seen some of my bruises, enough to be sure I had a soulmate, but not enough to realize my soulmate was being abused.

  I rubbed under my nose, and the tip of my index came back bloody. 

  I gasped. That had never happened before. 

  “How bad is it?” I asked Gale, frantically. 

  “Um… orange keeps popping up all over your face. There’s some running up your arm right now.” He sounded careful, but frightened. “It’s like… burn marks,”

  I looked down, where indeed, long, fat tongues of intense orange glowed up my left arm. I’ve seen glowing marks before, but always in the tip of my fingers or the sides of my hands, I never connected the glowing with fire— burn marks— but it made sense. I guess my soulmate must handle fire regularly. 

  “What’s happening?” I pulled my little mirror from my pocket, to see my face, and nearly sobbed at the sight.

  One eye was completely covered in orange. Burn marks ran all the way from my elbow up to my cheek, and part of my forehead. My nose had a tiny, bloody smear, and my lip had streaks of orange here and there. 

  Whatever happened, was bad.

  “Fuck… Do you know where he is, by any chance?” Gale winced. 

  “No… but I’m about to find out!” I looked around for a place to sit, then pulled my small knife out of my boot. 

  Once seated, I examined my forearms. The flaming marks started at the elbow on my left arm, and went up on that side, my right arm was free of injury, except for my palms. Both were glowing orange, but not too bad. 

  “Okay… here goes nothing!” I gritted through my teeth, placing the tip of my knife to my arm, I traced the word, “WHERE?” crudely, and just deep enough to break the skin.

  Gale made a face, but crouched closed by, staring intently. “Do you think it’ll work?” He asked dubiously. “He might be unconscious for all we know,” 

  “We’ll see.”

  The minutes rolled by and no answer came. I was starting to panic; all I could think about was would that be the day I became the next Haymitch Abernathy? At least he got to meet his soulmate and have a relationship with her before she died; I had no idea who mine was. Was it worse that way, knowing them and then losing them, or was it worst to never meet them at all? Would I become soulless? Would my entire body turn gray? Would I ever find another soulmate? Haymitch never said if he ever looked for another, but I knew it was possible to get a secondary soulmate if enough time went by. 

  “Look!” Gale shouted. 

  A shaky “D12” appeared under my message. 

  A relieved gasp left my mouth. 

  “District 12! That’s good! He could’ve been all the way in District 4, and then what were you gonna do? Call the authorities there?” Gale muttered, clearly invested in what was happening to me.

  Tears stung my eyes. I wrote: “ME 2” 

  We’ve been in the same district the whole time, and I still had no idea where to find him! 

  I turned the knife back to the first word, and traced a line under it “WHERE?”

  The answer came back faster. “S H”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I moaned,  “What kind of abbreviation is that? Ugh! I’m trying to help you!” I screamed at my arm as if my soulmate could hear it.

  “Seam House?” Gale mused… “No, there are hundreds, if not thousands of houses in the Seam,” he said.

  The Seam was the poorer part of the district, where people like us lived: low income families, miners, laborers and the such. 

  “Ah! Ask if he means Slag Heap? If I was trying to pick a fight with someone, that’s where I’d go.”

  “He didn’t pick a fight!” I snapped, defensive and angry. “He’s been beaten every other day, since I can remember. My parents used to go to the police station every year to see if they could do something about it. Nobody ever did! They always said we needed to figure out a way to communicate with him… well, I’m doing it now!”

  Gale frowned, “That’s shitty. I’m sorry to hear that. The Slag Heap could still be it, though. Many people go there to be alone… if they’re running from someone, there’s plenty hiding spots,”

  That sounded logical, “Okay… but the slag heap isn’t exactly small, and there’s some woodsy area to consider too,”

  “Mmm… asking has been working so far,” 

  “Yeah, but the whole mutilation part is getting to me…” I glared, he wasn’t the one cutting his arm, “I’m starting to get woozy,” 

  “You’re a hunter, Catnip! Blood is nothing,”

  “Animals, Gale! Not my own blood,”

  “There’s no difference,” Gale cupped my face in his hands, to keep my eyes on his gray, steely ones. “we’re all animals. We all bleed the same. Your soulmate needs your help, if I knew who mine was, and I knew she was in trouble, I’d be rushing to them… you can do this, Catnip,”

  I took a deep, cleansing breath, and nodded. “I’ll ask him. As soon as we know where to go… could you please fetch my father? He’ll know what to do,” 

  “You got it, Catnip!” He let go of me, and I felt renewed courage after his weird pep talk.

  Once again, I trace the tip of my knife on my skin, “SLAG H? WHERE?”

  “YES    NE”

  “North East! I told you it’ll work!” 

  “Yeah,” I grumbled, spelling making one last message: “W8 4 ME”

  “K”

  With half a plan in motion, Gale rushed to find my father, and I made a mad dash to the slag heap, where years and years of dumping dirt and rocks removed from the mines had formed small hills and mounds at the edge of the district. 

  “Hello!” I called out loudly. “Can anybody hear me?!” 

  There wasn’t a whole lot of vegetation in the slag heap, only hundreds of disturbed soil pits and little mountains… some were tall and wide enough they’ll easily conceal a person or two looking for privacy. 

  “Anybody here?” I called again.

  A weak cough answered in the distance. 

  I rushed in it’s direction, hoping it was my soulmate, and not a couple trying to steal away a few minutes alone. 

  “Please, tell me where you are!” I called before another round of coughing reached me. 

  “Here to finish me off, sweetheart?” Came a weak, raspy voice from behind me.

  I turned around but saw nothing besides dirt, and sticks, and moss on rocks. 

  I swallowed, “Where are you?” I stepped closer to the heap in front of me, and then…

  “Well, don’t step on me!” 

  I jumped back and looked downwards, and finally saw dirty pieces of flannel and denim, incongruous with the area, and under all the debris, I realized a person had dug a little wedge at the foot of the hill, and thrown the stuff he’d dug out back on top of himself. The disguise was clever, camouflaging himself into the terrain. 

  I gasped and dropped to the ground, pulling handfuls of earth out of the way. A jolt of recognition hit me when a pair of bright blue eyes blinked open and shut, slowly, as if fighting off fatigue. 

  “Don’t go to sleep!” I warned.

  “I’m sorry, but it might be too late for that already. There’s an angel hovering above me, and I’m not sure I’m not dreaming it,” a row of white teeth appeared from the soil.

  My knee-jerk reaction was to chuff and roll my eyes, but if he was throwing me those cheesy lines, it meant he was somewhat lucid, and it was imperative to keep him that way. 

  “How do you know is not a nightmare?” I countered.

  “Because Katniss Everdeen coming to my rescue, and being my soulmate could never be a bad dream. On the contrary It’s only my deepest, most desperate hope, really…” he trailed off, and closed his eyes again. 

  I was momentarily frightened.

  “Keep talking,” I ordered, brushing dirt off his head. Some of it mixed in with his blood and sweat, turning into a thick mud. I could see more of his battered face; my heart beat erratically against my rib cage, there were so many bruises. “Peeta, keep talking,” 

  His untouched eye opened slowly, a lazy, sideways smile greeted me, warming me up. “You know my name?” 

  I chuckled, startled, “You know mine,”

  “Everyone knows you, Katniss ‘the huntress’ Everdeen!” He reached up, tentatively, and touched the tip of my braid, whispering under his breath, something that sounded like: unreal.

  Just saying his name felt otherworldly; like breathing for the first time. I’ve never uttered it before, for fear of bringing forward memories of that awful day in the rain, by the bakery’s scraggly apple tree. 

  “And you’re Peeta Mellark, the boy with the bread. I’ve known your name for a long time, baker’s youngest son, whose kindness saved my entire family from starvation,” I cupped his injured face in my hands, and I couldn’t help the slight tremble in my voice. 

  He seemed to melt at the sound of my voice; then his hands came to touch my face. “I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you found me!” He said, an edge of incredulity and awe colored his tone, but then his face fell, “But, your sweet, beautiful face… it’s all…” a fat tear rolled down his muddy cheek, while his thumb gently caressed my temple and the side of my face. “I’m so sorry, Katniss… I never wanted you to look like this! I always tried to shift positions, so you’d never had to see how bad it got. I’m so sorry,” he was crying so hard, he started to shake and cough.

  It took inhuman strength not to cry myself; I knew he needed me to protect him, and there would be time later to fall apart and feel emotional. 

  “Shush, I’m here now.” I knelt next to him and locked my arms around his head, pulling him against my chest, so he could hear my heart beating only for him. “I’m going to take care of you.”

  “I really hoped it was you. I really did…” he heaved into my neck, his arms wrapping gingerly around my waist, “thank you for finding me,”

  “Of course I found you… I’ve been looking for you for ages,” I whispered, finally giving in, shedding some tears, relieved that the tension, fear, uncertainty, and frustration were finally gone. My soulmate was in my arms, where he belonged! “My parents started looking for you when we were little. But we’re together now,”

  Peeta calmed down some, but he was still breathing too fast, “Now that you have me… what are you gonna do with me?” He asked meekly. 

  I smiled down at him, “I’ll put you somewhere safe, where you can never get hurt again,” 

  He closed his eyes. “I’d like that…” 

  “Peeta, you can’t go to sleep just yet, okay?”

  “I’m so tired, Katniss,”

  “I know,” I cooed. I had no idea I was capable of speaking with such softness. “My father will get here soon, and then we’ll patch you up real well.”

  “I can’t go back to my house though—“

  “You ain’t going there, kid!” Papa said from a few feet away. Gale and two police officers followed closely. 

  I must’ve been completely enthralled with my soulmate, because I never heard them coming, 

  “Even if it’s the last thing I do, I won’t let you go back to that place!” My father stated. 

  And that was that!

  ——————————-

“Tell me what happened,” Officer Darius asked in a soft tone, trying to be encouraging.

  My soulmate inhaled; one eye was so swollen it was completely shut, his other one roved around the room nervously. Peeta locked his gaze with mine, beseeching, and I offered my hand in support. He clung to it like a lifeline. 

  “My mother asked me to burn a pile of leaves and branches in the backyard that had been there since fall, but the branches were damp and it was taking me a while to fire it up. Since it’s the last week to burn stuff, my mom got impatient. She screamed at me, called me incompetent and useless… the usual stuff—“

  “Does your mother call you names regularly?” Asked the officer. 

  “My mom calls everybody names. I guess that’s how she was raised. Her mom used to call her names too…” Peeta shrugged.

  “That’s no reason to keep the cycle going,” my mama grumbled quietly, so only I could hear her.”

  “After insulting you, what else happened?” Prompted the police woman, Officer Purnia.

  Peeta scowled. “I told her I’d pour some lighter fluid on the pile and let it soak for a few minutes, but she wouldn’t hear it. Said I was doing it wrong, I was too stupid, I would never accomplish shit if I couldn’t even light up some dead branches… and, well. I got fed up. I told her she could start the fire herself if I was doing such a lousy job… my mom… she—She doesn’t like to be talked back…” He sagged on his hospital bed, and turned his face away. 

  “What do you mean?” Asked officer Purnia, taking notes, trying to keep an impassive mask on.

  “The first slap landed across my ear because I dared to move away from her flying hand,” Peeta said tersely, “She didn’t like that either, so she took aim again, but with the bottle of lighter fluid on her palm. She practically smashed it against my face.” He stopped to gasp for air, while his good eye filled with tears. “I think fluid squirted everywhere, I smelled like my hair and clothes had been doused in the stuff,” he raked a shaking hand over the singed hair at his temple. 

  I caressed his arm to sooth him. 

  He smiled gratefully at me, and faced the officers to continue. “I’d just put a piece of burning cardboard into the pile. I guess the leaves caught fire during the squabble with mom, and I must’ve lost my balance after taking a plastic bottle full of liquid to the face, because next thing I know, I’m bracing my hands on the ground, on burning sticks, and then I’m on fire myself.”

  Peeta sustained first degree burns on the different spots from his left forearm, up. Luckily, his wounds were managed as soon as we got to the emergency room, and his treating doctor said he would recover, with minimal scarring.

  “How did you end up at the Slag Heap?” Asked Officer Darius. 

  Peeta sighed, “My mom kind of freaked out when she realized I was on fire. She picked up a rag from somewhere and started hitting me with it…” he paused, “in retrospect, I think she may have actually been trying to help me, but… I just saw it like she was still trying to beat me, so I ran off. I tripped, fell, then rolled on the ground, she started calling my name, coming closer to me. I was scared. I took off again and didn’t stop until I fell at the foot of that mound of dirt in the slag heap. That’s when I noticed my soulmate’s note.”

  Officer Darius quirked up a reddish eyebrow, “Your soulmate’s note?” 

  “Yeah… these,” Peeta tried to peel back the bandage over his arm, but my mother put her hand over it, and shook her head. 

  “Here!” I said, immediately shoving my own arm in front of the officers. 

  Both examined my arm. “How did you think of doing that, Miss Everdeen?” 

  “I was inspired by your bosses actually,” I snarled.

  “Katniss!” Mama chided, and then politely addressed the officers. “You see, my husband and I have come to the authorities for many years, urging them to find a way to locate our daughter’s soulmate. You see, she’d started exhibiting her soulmate’s bruises from a very young age, which in my professional experience, were inconsistent with normal toddler scrapes and bumps—“

  “The chief of police always said to find a way to communicate with him, ask where he was… so I did,” I interrupted, haughtily. “I got you a real life victim to investigate. You’re welcome.”

  The officers stared at me, flabbergasted. 

  Mama made a dismaying noise in the back of her throat, but Peeta’s face— burnt, bruised and swollen— lighted up, with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen a person direct at me. 

  Mama interjected, conciliatory, “My husband and I believe, your department should have enough evidence to investigate Peeta’s case, now?” My mother’s searching blue eyes seemed to x-ray the officers. 

  “Well, Miss and Mrs. Everdeen, Mister Mellark, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you for your cooperation. We’ll be in touch.” Said Officer Purnia snapping shut her notebook. 

  “Mr. Mellark, your case worker, Miss Trinket, will be in as soon as the matter of your emergency custody is settled.” Informed Officer Darius, right before wishing us a good evening.

  Peeta frowned, “Are they sending me to like a home or something? What about my brothers? They can’t stay home with my mom… she’ll go nuts on them!” 

  “No, no, Peeta,” Mama spoke softly, “Miss Trinket is already on it. Haymitch Abernathy has offered his house for your brothers to stay at for a few days while things get sorted out. You’re welcome to join them, of course, but your injuries need supervision and several cleanings daily, so Mr. Everdeen and I feel it is in everyone’s best interest if you stay with us, at least until you’ve healed enough.” Mama hesitated, and then patted my soulmate’s hand, “I hope that’s okay with you, but if it isn’t—“

  “It’s absolutely great, ma’am! Yes, I—thank you,” 

  Mama nodded, “Well, I’m gonna go get some stuff taken care of, and check on that case worker. Then they’ll hopefully let us go home… Katniss, I’ll need your help with something before we leave, alright?”

  “‘kay.” 

  “Mrs. Everdeen…thank you,” Peeta said meekly. 

  Mama just stood stoically by the door, “You’re family, Peeta, it’s the least we could do for you.” The door clicked shut leaving me alone with my soulmate.

  We were both silent for a minute. Then Peeta said half amused, half shyly, “I think the guy cop liked you. I caught him smirking a couple of times after your ruthless answers.” His smile was crooked. Boyish. I almost swooned. 

  I shrugged. “I don’t think he cared that much,”

  “Are you serious?” Peeta laughed, “Katniss, you have no idea the effect you can have,”

  I scowled at him, and he just shook his head. I couldn’t tell if he was teasing me or complimenting me. He changed the topic before I could decide which. 

  “So, you’ve been looking for me then?” He sounded nervous, and a little uncertain, “isn’t it weird…we are soulmates, but the only thing I know for sure about you, is that your favorite color is green?” He rubbed his fingers together, then showed me the tips, where he had dark green spots, exactly on the same place I had permanent calluses from pulling on my bow string. 

  I bit my lower lip, studying the thin spidering of green nicks and scratches, were I surmised my own marks have appeared after my daily trips into the woods. 

  “Your favorite color is orange. Not bright, but muted…”

  “Like the sunset,” he finished for me. 

  Mind bonding wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities between soulmates, but my understanding on the matter was, that the bond had to be physically sealed before a pair could develop those empathic connections, where soulmates shared perfectly synchronized thoughts, as if they had one mind. Peeta and I weren’t there just yet, but it felt like we understood each other pretty well already. 

  He just stared at me in fascination, before his face fell, “I hope you don’t get permanently disfigured, if my burn scars don’t go away completely… you are so pretty.”

  I rolled my eyes, pleased that he thought I was pretty, but not really knowing how to respond graciously. I’d never been called pretty by a boy before, not that it’d have the same effect as when Peeta said it… “You’re just saying that I’m pretty because I’m your soulmate,” 

  He smiled sadly, “No… I really mean it. I’ve had a crush on you since I can remember. I just new I belonged to someone since I was like 4, when I saw my first soulmate scratch on my knees. Your favorite colors back then were teal and pink. Your marks were always swirls of the two colors. I liked them. I liked that I belonged to someone who enjoyed colors, like myself… I wondered what your marks looked like, but then, I hoped you never had to see my marks. I was ashamed of them.”  

  My chest tightened, I climbed onto his bed, and pressed my side right against his, “Hey… I’ve like your marks.” I stuttered, “my parents never let me see the ones on my back until I was older, but I liked the ones you got in normal places. Yours appeared as rainbows where we were little.” I held his hand in mine. “I don’t care if we stay fire mutts forever, Peeta, the important thing is that we are together now,” 

  “Thank you for finding me,”

  “Thank you for leading me to you,”

  We leaned our heads together, and fell into an easy silence.

  “Katniss…”

  “Mmm,”

  “We are soulmates.” 

  I tilted my head away, to look at him, “Yeah. We already established that,” I said suspiciously.

  Peeta smirked, “You know, we’re supposed to be madly in love…so, it’s okay to kiss me whenever you want to,” 

  I snorted and rolled my eyes, but he was right. In any other circumstance, I’m sure we would’ve already progressed into couple-y, lovey-dovey stuff. 

  “If you’re already fishing for kisses, that means you’re healthy then!” I kissed his forehead. “But let me tell you right now, cheek and sass won’t take too far, sir,”

  “It won’t?” he pouted, “then I’ll just have to swoop in when I see an opening,” he leaned into me, and I let him plant a peck, full on my lips. 

  My first kiss ever, and all I could register was how chapped his lips were… besides the small fluttering of butterfly wings in the pit of my stomach, of course. 

  “Well, time for a sip of water, and you should rest some too.” I said feeding him the straw in the Styrofoam cup full of icy water by his bed. 

  After he drank, we gravitated towards each other, meeting in the middle. Our second kiss was short, sweet, and full of relief. 

  I liked it. In fact, I wanted another, but Peeta was drowsy after the day we’ve had. 

  “I remember you used to sing, so beautifully, even the birds would stop to listen,” Peeta said, shyly… “would you… mind singing for me?”

  “I don’t sing all that much nowadays, but if that’s what you want…”

  He stared at me expectantly, so I had no other choice. I combed back his freshly washed hair, and started.

  “Just close your eyes;

The sun is going down.

You’ll be alright;

No one can hurt you now.

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound...”

  When Mama came back, Peeta was asleep, and so she took me outside while my father sat in the room with the case worker, signing in my soulmate’s release papers, waiting for him to wake up. 

  “I want you to take these,” Mama produced a packet of medicine from a white, pharmaceutical baggie. 

  “Birth control?!” I groaned, embarrassed. 

  “Don’t look so scandalized, Katniss,” Mama rolled her eyes, “You and Peeta are healthy, newly acquainted teenaged soulmates, who will suddenly coexist together in close quarters. Papa and I agreed that starting you on contraceptives is the right thing to do,” she fixed me with a stare that broker no protests, “That said, we are not giving you carte blanche to act on pure hormonal instincts, Katniss. While we aren’t so naive to believe you won’t explore intimacy with your soulmate, we fully expect you to use caution, and make responsible decisions. Is that clear?” 

  I nodded, and snatched the pills from Mama’s outstretched hand. My face was burning with mortification, but I was grateful for my parents’ wherewithal and openness. 

  The next few days proved harsh and blissful at the same time. After 11 years pestering the authorities, Papa finally got the law to prosecute my soulmate’s parents for abuse and neglect. To call it a victory, was understatement. 

  Peeta’s father was declared another victim of the Witch’s abuse, but court ordered him to see a therapist and get evaluated by a professional, before he could come back home to his sons. 

  Mrs. Mellark was charged with endangering a child, battery, abuse and arson. She was court ordered to seek anger management and psychological counseling. She had been abused as a child too, and after watching her son in fire, it finally clicked in her head, that she needed to put a stop to the cycle… late as it may be. She went willingly when the police served her arrest warrants. 

  Since Peeta and his middle brother were still minors, they were temporarily placed under their eldest brother’s care; but the eldest brother was only 19 and had no idea how to be a father figure, so strange as it was, my parents insisted on having them all bunk in our tiny house, which was comically insufficient. Thank heavens Haymitch Abernathy was still willing to help. 

  The grumpy old drunk invited the lot of us to stay at his place for as long as we needed, and after cleaning up all the empty bottles and general messes around his huge house, we could enjoy the place at our leisure. 

  The boys kept working at the bakery, since they needed a source of income, and something to keep themselves occupied. Mama said they needed the normalcy of their business to cope. 

  It was a good thing Haymitch’s house was so big, since Peeta started having horrible nightmares after his mother was released from holding, after making bail; her trial was still pending, but my poor soulmate suffered severe PTSD from the events that brought us together. Neither of his brothers wanted to share a room with him at night…which allowed me to slip in when I heard him crying out desperately and fearfully.

  Peeta would only go back to sleep after I laid beside him and sang, while carding my fingers through his sweat-damped, ashy blond waves. 

  “I’m not okay until I can see you’re safe,” he told me once. 

  After the third night in a row of this happening, I just stayed with him in his bed. My parents didn’t exactly approve— we were still 16— but there wasn’t much they could say to stop us. After all, our soulmate bond trumped any other familial bond; we just couldn’t legally get married and apply for housing until we were both 18. 

  Peeta still woke up in cold sweats at night, but my arms were there to fend off the terrors, and so were my lips. 

  On the night I felt a hunger so consuming and devastating, gnawing at me from my core, radiating to the tips of my being, I was glad my mother put me on birth control. 

  My soulmate gently, but steadily joined us together, cementing our physical bond for the rest of time, while branding his love and adoration to me into my very skin, with fevered lips and shaky hands. We gasped and whispered vows of devotion to one another, and then an explosion of feelings and emotions went off… I couldn’t tell where his life force started, and mine ended. We were one. Sharing a single soul. 

  After, we laid tangled together, our hearts beating as one. Peeta kissed my knuckles, and asked.

  “You looked for me, for years. Real or not real?”

  “Real.”

  He kissed my forehead, “Will you sing?” 

  “Of course,” I combed back his hair with loving fingers, and sang.

  “Just close your eyes;

You’ll be alright;

Come morning light,

You and I’ll be safe and sound.”

[hypnomicimagines]

For Honor [Samurai!Yamada Ichiro/Reader] - Chapter 1

Having a handsome bodyguard wasn’t a negative.

You had rejected the idea of hiring someone outside of your normal circle, why couldn’t you simply be protected by the guards you’ve come to know rather than a total stranger? Once it had been explained that you needed someone who knew the terrain much better you had quieted down, knowing that defying your parents would only make it worse on you. You were to go to a neighboring kingdom through an off the road path with only this bodyguard, your parents swore he had a great reputation, to your new husband. You wouldn’t be married as of yet, this was supposed to simply be a test, but you hadn’t been too fond of the idea.

You didn’t care enough to fight it, however.

You set off in the early morning hours without even seeing your bodyguards face as you’re escorted into the covered wagon behind him by your father, who wishes you safe travels before handing you a large pack of food that should last you. There’s a change of clothes as well for you to change into once you’ve reached the castle, your looks should be impeccable upon first entering, though there are likely people waiting to do your make-up and such before you even catch a glimpse of the prince. First impressions were as important as your safety and you supposed it was lucky that you weren’t the fussy type of princess who would object to not arriving in style. The weather for the trip is at least cool enough that you don’t complain about being shoved into the back of an oversized wooden box, drawing the curtains to look out at the scenery when your imagination starts to bore you.  

“What’s your name?”

“…Yamada Ichiro.” He didn’t strike you as the strong silent type but he hadn’t offered up much in the way of information since you first started traveling together hours ago, leaving you even more curious about him. You’d only seen the side of his face when he had turned to look towards rustling trees, analyzing a potential threat, spotting an interesting eye and a beauty mark right under it. “Are you uncomfortable?”

“I’m okay.”

“We’ll be stopping for the night soon, princess.”

“Understood!”

After another hour passed the journey was on pause for the evening and you find yourself sitting directly next to Ichiro who had started a fire, saying you’d have to cook and warm up quick so he could put it out before you’re caught. He was making a small meal out of the rations your parents had packed for the two of you, feeding the horses nearby before returning to sit by your side. The sun hadn’t set quite yet which meant you had more of a chance to see your bodyguard’s face, gasping as you catch a glimpse of red and green.

“Are your eyes two different colors?” You reached over to grab his chin, turning his face towards yours so abruptly Ichiro nearly dropped the meat he was cooking into the fire. He’s clearly startled but you’re paying his facial expression no mind, instead peering deeply into his eyes with a fascination he’d seen on countless others. “They’re beautiful…”

“…You should ask for permission before grabbing someone like that.” Ichiro was fighting to keep a straight face, placing a rugged hand over yours and gently removing it from his face. You must not have been used to asking, simply doing as you wanted when you wanted because of your status, so he couldn’t fault you too much. It wasn’t a harmful action, but having his visual eccentricities pointed out always managed to embarrass him; it certainly had nothing to do with the fact it was a genetic factor that tied him strongly to a father he’d much rather forget.

He wasn’t used to beautiful women touching him either.

He couldn’t chase the thought of how soft your delicate hand was, especially when it was compared to his; when he had touched your hand earlier you had seemed surprised at the roughness, but that was the life of a swordsman. Before he’d become a samurai he had led a far less honorable life, one of hurting the innocent just for the sake of money, but he had turned himself around. His hands still felt like they were stained by the blood of those he should’ve been protecting rather than collecting money from but there was no point in staying in the past. If he hoped to ever make up all of his misdeeds then he’d have to keep moving forward, starting by taking care of his brothers and protecting those that needed help.

He had actually checked into your family before he’d taken up this job offer, knowing he couldn’t turn down his nose at money but if he were to help a family who was infamous, he would never forgive himself. You yourself had seemed pleasant enough in the short time he’d known you even if you had hardly talked, something that he predicted would be changing now.

“So, do you have a family? Tell me about them.”

“…I have two little brothers who are waiting for me at home.”

You nodded your head as Ichiro recalled some of his fonder memories he had with his brothers, talking about their shaky relationship but how he was sure they would protect each other when it truly came down to it. You can see the fondness for him shining through in his eyes which only made you feel a little more… confused. The love of his brothers was attractive, as was the fact he had turned such a bland meal into something edible. You could listen to this man talk for an eternity if you had to, another plus that he managed to tell stories in such a captivating way that didn’t have you bored to tears. The number of men that tried to woo you with the most basic tales of heroics were innumerable but the ones who talked so fondly of their family and their home were few and far in between.

Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed a flustered look on his face and Ichiro looked away.

“I didn’t mean to talk so much… I apologize.” He coughed into his hand, shifting uncomfortably on the ground as he tried to regain his composure. It wasn’t normal for him to be so thrown off by someone staring intently at him but there was something about your gaze that made him the slightest bit nervous.

“I feel like I could write on your life now. The great tales of Ichiro.” You smiled at him as you tried to steady your heart. “I didn’t mind listening to you at all.”

“My life is… hard to describe in simple terms. I’m sure you understand the sentiment.”

“I think my life is far more boring than yours!” You laughed, placing down the rest of your food. “I’ve been stuck within walls my entire life, the outside world is only books. I’ve done my best to speak with others from different walks of life but once they learn I’m a princess, they always become so stiff and formal. I much prefer someone who’ll freely speak about jumping in the mud on rainy days with their brothers rather than someone who thinks throwing big words at me will make me swoon.”

There was an implication there that Ichiro picked up on, that you were comparing him to those that had actively tried to woo you, and he was worried for a second that he was appearing more unprofessional than he’d like. He bowed his head again in an attempt to apologize but you held out your hand, patting the top of his head briefly before withdrawing.

“Sorry, I should ask to touch, right? But that’s a sign of affection, correct?”

“I- uh, yeah. I ruffle my brother’s hair all the time…” It was certainly different having you do that to him though, the vice like grip around his heart tightening further. You looked even more beautiful in the light of the setting sun, the fire highlighting your eyes; he had been speechless, antsy, when he had first laid eyes on you and he was thankful that you had given him a few hours to get his bearings together before you tried to talk to him. You had made such a strong impression upon him that he knew he wouldn’t be forgetting you soon; you reminded him of the princesses in old fairy tales that he would read to Saburo at night.

“Should we sleep? Are you joining me in the back?”

“I’ll keep watch out here.” Ichiro began the process of putting the fire out, helping you up the wagons steps the minute he’s done. He watched carefully as you settled yourself in before closing it up tightly, only the front portion with slightly parted curtains giving you a glimpse of the moon. You can hear him shuffling about as he wiped away any traces of the two of you being there before he settled himself on the front of the wagon, leaning back against the wood and allowing his eyes to slide shut.

You caught one last glimpse of your bodyguard before you fell asleep, hoping you’d get to ask him even more questions tomorrow.