#when I can remember clear as day the moment my father told me he wouldn’t care if I died

[freakylilnutjob]

I hope there will be a day when someone says something nice to/about me and I can actually fully believe them.

If y’all decide to have kids, please don’t emotionally neglect and abuse them.

[dreamwritersworld]

His daughter (sully family x reader) part 2

Y/n’s anxiety was the worse growing up, if she hadn’t done it right or if her father didn’t approve she’d panic. Anything she did was effortless and beautiful but neither of them saw that. If you challenged Y/n, she’d prove you wrong immediately.

For as long as Y/n could remember everybody loved her. She never knew exactly what it was. She just knew that she had something special, something intangible, something immeasurable, and it gave her “confidence”.

However no one knew much she put into getting all her skills in check. There was so much stress in such a young girl to please the people. She saw her father as gold at the top of the mountain and her mother’s proud smile as the sweetest item amongst Eywa creations. She wanted their approval so badly..

*

Y/n had scrapes and mud along side her knees and body, it only got worse as she crawled further up the small trunk of a tree. Here she was moving her fastest as she goes against Neteyam who had been given a simpler task of obstacles. She struggled to breathe through the tight space…panicking at the realization that she wouldn’t succeed

I want it, I wanted it bad

The bloodshed and exhaustion was getting to her

but there were so many red flags

When she crawled right through, Neteyam had already been rewarded, the dirtest part of him being sweat and very little mud. Y/n’s sorrow was written all over her face, that afternoon she walked home covered in mud, drops of blood and sweat..she weeped to the empty forest that night begging Eywa to give her the sweetest reward on her…to save her and have her succeed further than she could imagine..

*

She loved her father and his approval, she wanted it more than anyone else. He knew this, he made her dependent and knew she’d crave it. If Y/n couldn’t stay with him forever, he’d find a way so that she would. Sure, Tuk was younger but Y/n was his real baby, she had almost died on him and he wasn’t going to let her go after that.

When Y/n wasn’t with Jake, she was with Neytiri. She wasn’t only her mother but Y/n’s best friend. Their relationship was so strong. On the days Y/n was exhausted she rested her head right on Neytiri’s lap as she played with her hair, she looked like a cat, calmly sleeping in her mother’s lap. It’d be hard to decide weather she was a daddy’s girl or mamas girl…but you’d have to take into consideration that when she was with Neytiri she at least provided a sense of that peace..mamas girl. It was true, Y/n spoke very highly of her mother constantly even if she had betrayed her…

*

Y/n had been speaking to one of the little girls who was asking to learn about human culture that Jake had taught her growing up..

“…mmh and Mother’s Day is the day people celebrate mommies?..”

“yes sweetheart!”

“What do you think about your mother?”

“My mom is a very important person in my life. And I think she taught me a lot of lessons in life, how to respect the public and the rest of my family. And I think it’s very important to have a mother and I want to be like her.”

Y/n’s voice was clear and you can tell she meant every word. The moment was cut short when an adult asked Y/n to aid them in healing..so she left the child alone with her mother. Neytiri’s eyes watered to her daughter’s sweet answer..

“And you? What about you?”

The young child looked dearly and innocently at Neytiri, filled with excitement to get a deeper connection between the two.

“Growing up I always told y/n to not change her way of being. You know, to all the time be humble and caring how she is with everyone..She’s a very special girl. Same as my other kids, all kids are special of course but..without her, I can’t imagine a life without her…she’s very important, she keeps my family together..”

Everything Neytiri had stated was true, Y/n made sure to develop a close relationship with her siblings. Her parents had been so connected to her and all was well with their family, as long as Y/n was there. As soon as Jake was gone she’d comfort her siblings and give them all her love. That was just the type of person she was.

*

Jake and Neytiri ripped Y/n apart. Their love was toxic to the child..

Jake would practically tell Y/n not to listen to her mother when she instructed her to stay behind during training and Neytiri would have Y/n sit on her lap while she cried, it may have seemed sweet until you realized that she was crying from the stress of canceling on her father and him yelling at her while her mother sat and watched..there’s no denying that she’d loved them until her final breathe.

They isolated her..

*

“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n! What you waiting for?”

“Please come out and play with us!”

“Y/n likes to stay in the house children..she can’t play right now.” (Neytiri)

“Oh..please let her come out and play with us now..”

“She can’t, she has important Navi’s to meet today..” (Jake)

Jake passed a smile at the young children, he heard himself say pure bliss. Y/n was being set up to meet perfect leaders that will help guide her and Neteyam as clan leaders. The child sat in silence with a saddened face, making eye contact with the children right before her father closed the curtain..

M-A-M-A-G-I-R-L

mama’s girl

mama’s girl

D-A-D-D-Y-G-I-R-L

daddy’s girl

daddy’s girl

*

When it was time for dinner in the morning, Y/n ate in silence. Her eyes were red from the crying. Jake didn’t even dare to stare longer, knowing that he too was upset..

Tsireya and Ao’nung had interrupted their breakfast to let them know that they’d be ready to teach as soon as they’re ready and to meet them at their Maui. The entire family walked in silence ready to greet the Tonowari, Ronal and their kids.

Ronal was instructing Tsireya on what’d it be best to start with today..however a certain someone in the small crowd of demon bloods caught her attention. All teens were quietly discussing amongst themselves except Y/n…she was dazed and looking right past Ronal, sheeply smiling at the home.

“Y/n!..are you tired today?”

The exhaustion was practically noticeable to the healer who can feel it. Y/n immediately glanced at her father, seeing his smile had dropped and she was now frightened that he’d be upset and start an argument right then and there.

“..no.”

She passed a gentle smile, attempting for it to wash over.

“No..okay you look a little tired.”

“Perhaps, it’s all the traveling..im sorry. I can assure you , your home and island has done me good the last couple of hours..sorry.”

Ronal was satisfied in Y/n’s answer. Soon it was time to begin training and the adults and children went their separate ways.

Ao’nung didn’t know where he’d even begin to start a conversation with her…but he found a way.

“..so not tired?”

Y/n turned and laughed at his awkward attempt, smiling at his efforts, being silently grateful.

“I am, but that’s between us! Your island is very beautiful..”

“Once you get used to it, it’ll be ordinary..normal!”

“Yea..when it’s not an everyday thing, you’ll learn to appreciate it I guess. Sorry, what’s your name? Just asking so I get it right!”

“Ao’nung, and your Y/n correct?”

“Yes Ao’nung. How about we run in the water together!”

The young boy liked the way his name rolled off her tongue, she said it as though she knew him forever. Y/n made their conversation comfortable, and she even offered a good race. The rest of the practice went well and the group got awfully comfortable. Ao’nung and Y/n connected immediately. When Y/n got home that bond seemed to be the hottest topic at the table..

“How was practice today? Everyone did good?”

“Yes sir! Everyone did great, their ways are different but good to learn.”

Neteyam spoke proudly, despite his sadness about leaving his position back at home he felt good to learn new ways of life.

“..mmh im sure of that. Anything else?”

Everyone knew Jake was trying to get Y/n to talk, but her stubbornness wouldn’t allow it. She was furious with him, he had yet to feel bad about anything he said. Lo’ak however thought it’d be best to make his twin sister smile; he just didn’t realize what he was about to say would be the wrong place to bring it up.

“Ao’nung is crushing on Y/n!”

All four siblings turned to the brother, shocked that he’d bring up the topic they thought they had silently agreed not to.

“Hehe..no he’s not.”

Y/n replied with an awkward frustrated laugh and stern voice, telling her brother to be quiet.

“…Ao’nung mmh…you know you can’t y/n-“

“I never said I would.”

Jake’s face was surprised at how quick she was to talk back and he immediately got defensive.

“Well I’m ordering you not to.”

“Im not a soldier, Ao’nung and I are just friends.”

Y/n had left a distaste in Jake’s mouth that made him no longer want to speak. The family tried moving past it while Y/n stayed silent. In the back of Jake’s mind he was panicking, afraid Y/n wouldn’t focus on training and that she’d fall behind and never learn their way. All the issues would fall like dominos…if she fell behind, she wouldn’t learn, if she didn’t learn she would become dependent on Ao’nung, if he wasn’t there she wouldn’t know what to do, if she didn’t know what to do…she wouldn’t survive at all. He didn’t even take into consideration that Ao’nung was the one teaching her the way of water, he just thought of him as some boy..oh how was he so wrong..

!🎀!

REMEMBER MY INBOX IS OPEN!!!! 💕

@ruyaas-world @neteyamyanw3 @elegantkidfansoul @adaydreamaway08 @luxiniary @venomsvl

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Them reacting to seeing you do something weird

characters: Collei / Kuki Shinobu x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: none

a/n: I decided to try and write something for two of my favorite 4 stars again since I don’t get all too many requests for them.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Collei

Among the forest Rangers in Avidya Forest, almost no one could confidently call themself a bigger expert than you when it came to the wildlife inhabiting the forest. If there was an animal living in it, you knew it, if someone needed to know how it looked like so they’d be able to recognize it, you had sketchbooks full of detailed portraits at the ready and if there was anyone that wanted to learn about them, their best choice of action was to ask you.

That being said, you had a tendency to get lost when wandering around the forest alone, and so Collei was quickly assigned to helping you keep your sense of directions when out to research, the win-win situation of you having a helping hand while Collei got the opportunity to learn from the experts beating the prospect of having to search for you day and night everyday.

“I remember the first time I ventured out into the forest, I was what? Barely ten years old? My mother always told me how panicked my father was when I didn’t return at nightfall, you should have seen his face when he found me playing with a shame lion not far from home, he was so relieved you could basically see the weight fall off his shoulders, it was great… I did get into trouble afterwards, but that didn’t stop me from going back barely a week later”, you talked about your childhood while shoving branches to your side, trying to make a somewhat clear path for the two of you, all the while Collei listened to you as if put under a spell. 

You weren’t that much older than her, probably only a few years older, and yet you were already regarded as an expert in your old field. Collei couldn’t help but admire you and yet, when she heard how early you started to get interested in the animals living in the rainforest, she started to understand the reason for your success.

That being said, not everything in your stories seemed to make sense.

“Your father was relieved when he saw you playing with lions??”, you could hear the shock in Collei’s voice as clear as day and while her reactions seemed like the only plausible one when confronted with such a detail in your childhood story, the sheer and utter confusion on your face made her question if playing with lions wasn’t as abnormal as she thought.

“Lions? Oh Archon, no. Shame lions, those small green creatures that can change their colors depending on the background. I can show them to you if you need a refresher”, you offered, shooting her a quick smile before turning your head back forwards.

“Shame lions? …Do you mean Chameleons?”, Collei asked hesitantly, hoping she was on the same page as you and didn’t accidentally insult you by implying you didn’t know how to pronounce the animal’s name.

“...Chameleons? I-is that how you pronounce that? Heh, that explains quite a few of my weirder conversations actually”, you stated with a nervous giggle, your face growing red as you awkwardly scratched your cheek, only to eventually break out into full-on laughter, worrying your companion for a moment, before your laughing eventually infected the ranger.

“Thanks for telling me, I guess the others didn’t have the courage to correct me… that or they were far too confused to.”

Kuki Shinobu

For most of her days, Shinobu was surrounded by Inazuma’s brightest, watching their sober forms do things normal thinking people wouldn’t do after drinking a barrel of the strongest alcohol money could buy the same way a child would watch an animal in a zoo, and yet, she knew her colleagues long enough to not bat an eye, no matter how stupid the predicament they found themselves in.

Hanging around Itto and his boys made her appreciate the quieter moments in life as well as thank whatever deity was responsible for introducing people to each other that you were a part of her life. You knew how to hold a conversation, were kind and always thought about how your actions impacted others and hid a brain behind those eyes of yours… a welcome change of pace for her.

So when the two of you bumped into each other on her way home, only to decide to walk along the beach in hopes just being near the water would be enough to cool you down somewhat, considering the scorching hot weather, only for you to ask her to stop for a bit so you could cool your feet in the water, refusal wasn’t on Shinobu’s mind for even a second.

“Don’t you want to step into the water as well? It has just the right temperature!”, you happily asked after putting your hand in it for a second, testing the water before quickly readying yourself to step into it, pulling your pants up a bit so they wouldn’t get wet, only to stop when Shinobu called out to you.

“Your shoes.”

Without missing a beat, you hit your forehead with the palm of your head, an embarrassed look spreading across your face as you giggled to yourself. 

“Of course, I nearly forgot. Thanks a lot Shinobu!” Your shining smile coupled with hearing her name leave your mouth was enough to make her cheeks heat up, not enough for you to notice, considering her facemask, however, something she thanked the heavens for.

Just as quickly as you had stopped, you returned to pulling off your shoes before placing them on the sand and jumping into knee deep waters… your socks noticeably still on your feet, a fact Kuki didn’t miss in the slightest, her eyes widening at the sight of your drenched socks.

“Wha-?”

“Something’s wrong?”, you asked, completely oblivious to what caused the person in front of you to be rendered completely speechless. 

It took her a few seconds and about ten times of blinking her eyes in hopes it would all turn out to be a hallucination before she finally responded, trying her best to look away as to not constantly remember her brain of what was in front of her.

“N-no, nothing.”

[futurewriter2000]

Something Universal - pt. 1

A/N: I was just listnening to an Audiobook that really highlights subconsciousness and spiritual laws and I thought how cool would it be if Professor Trawlaney had a daughter that is very similar to her. I also am at the seaside and have literally nothing else to do than waste my phone battery and read.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

XX

When it comes to unseen, invisible and unknown power of the Universe, people like to turn a blind eye. People, Muggles, Wizards and Witches run from the universal power, simply because they cannot accept that there is something more powerful than them.

You’ve transformed yourself to suit other people’s beliefs but the urge, the curiosity in you just didn’t let you be that.

You were the apple of your mother’s eye, witty, beautiful and spiritual. You’ve never shown any gift of seeing beyond the third dimension but you have tried. You have tried so many practices but it just wasn’t in you. The gift just didn’t descend and though you were frustrated, you were also relieved. A part of you wanted to carry on your mother’s legacy, another part was relieved you wouldn’t witness the horrors the gift can bring.

Your mother was the greatest mother to be. Your childhood was brought up in muddy feet and much joy-brought adventures. There was so much light in your child years, where you can remember painting freely with your fingers, shaped cut out potatoes, sponges, brushes and anything your eye could find. Every single moment with your mother was colourful and happy- as if every day was a holiday, something worth celebrating. Your mother always asked you, each and every day, what were you thankful for and your answers were easily answered; the food, the grass, the rainy day so the two of you could spend time inside, cleaning with music on, dancing and especially… her.

Until- just a few years before your Hogwarts admission a tall, magnificent man walked into the house.

*flashback*

“Professor Dumbledore. To what do I owe this visit?” your mother smiled through an unexpected surprise.

“Mrs. (y/l/n), good day. May I come in?” He gestured, flicking his eyes to you and seeing a small glint in it. Back then your mother still had your father’s last name… all before this day.

Your father stepped in front of you, tall as he was also magnificent, he smiled and held your chin in his large hand. He smiled gently, reassuringly. He brushed his thumb over your cheek before walking to the visitor. “Professor Dumbledore, to what do we owe this late pleasure of the evening?” He smiled widely, showing his famous, charming smile.

“Well, I come on some private business- the one I think is meant for more adult ears.” He said as he walked to you, squatting to your level.

Though he was, he still intimidated you with his presence. You could almost feel the strength of his aura, blasting you away with it but you stood firmly on the ground. “You’ve got strong magic in yourself, miss. I hope you will bless our magical school with it.”

This time it was your mother that stepped in front of you, blocking the view with her long skirt. Her eyes weren’t surprised anymore, they were protective. “Go to your room, (y/n).”

And with that you ran up stairs and stopped at the end to listen. You knew you should go to your room. Your mother’s voice changed tone only when she was serious, when that was on very rare occasions.

You still stayed and listened- your intuition told you so. Your ears missed most of Dumbledore’s proposal but your mother and father talked loud and clear enough for you to hear.

“I do know I owe you my education, professor but I do not wish to tap into the future for your purposes- not for what you are about to ask me.”

“Your gift, Mrs. (Y/l/n), is extremely rare in this world. It is not to simply tell the future, it’s the prophecy of the war.”

“Exactly, the prophecies do not work as readings. They have their own power- they are simply dangerous to mind and soul.” She said frustrated and you could feel your father comforting her.

“I know of prophecies.” Said Dumbledore. “ I know I ask many of you but I also offer you, no matter the consequences or results, you and your family will be taken care of.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning your daughter would be under my protection if her gifts develop as yours did.” He said. “And this has been a thought as well before my proposal but I will be in a need of a Divination class when the old centaur retires.”

“That is wonderful news.” Your father exclaimed and you could see the smile on his face. It wasn’t easy to forget. “Sybill…” he pleaded. “Think of our little girl- wouldn’t you want to know that she is safe in the near future? In this world… in this war…” his voice got quieter.

“I never want to read into her future…” she said and you smiled because she promised you she would never and you knew you were safe forever.

*end of flashback*

Yet she did. Arguments after arguments with your father, who pleaded for stability, meanwhile your mother pleaded for safety. Your father reassured her how strong she is, that nothing can break her, not this prophecy, since she had survived many before. But she was weary, your mother, because becoming cocky didn’t belong into her character and she was afraid.

But what was one more prophecy. She promised him this one, the last one, and never again. She did not want to put the mother of her child in danger. To lose herself, you as well.

And you knew, you felt it. Something was in the air that day. It was and you knew it was a bad thing to do but she smiled and reassured you. You pleaded with your father, but he cupped your chin as always, he brushed his thumb over your cheek and he smiled. It worked like a charm. You were safe. You were always safe.

Until you were proven right.

Your mother wasn’t your mother no more. You lost her slowly. The day after, she felt “under the weather” but one day turned into one month soon after. She was pale like the wall behind her. She had no shine whatsoever.

Nothing was happy and colourful after that day. Your father tried but he never did his safe movement. He smiled but his eyes never did. Must have been the guilt.

You tried but it was like talking to a stranger.

Your mother almost went blind from the prophecy, so your father made sure she got the prescripted glasses, which took all of her facial features. Her whole appearance changed and you knew, your father didn’t recognise her as well. But he tried and he tried until there came a day when he saw the burdon it took upon you.

“I am thankful for today’s sun.” You said just before you were turning 11. You took her hand but she moved it away, her eyes bulging through those horrible glasses. Your heart broke and you could feel something hard form in your throat. “I went out to buy some school supplies with dad… we had fun so I am thankful for that too…” your voice starting to wander off as you realised you are talking to a stranger.

“That’s wonderful, dear.” She said as if she knew who you were. “And your mum?” She asked and you felt tears form in your eyes. “Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you. Is she not in the picture.”

You smiled through the tears. Memory loss was present for a few months now but still you weren’t used to it. “She’s not herself lately. She couldn’t come.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” She said, her voice wandering off as she looked into the sky. She then looked at you, confused and disoriented. “Dear… where am I exactly?”

And that was pretty much the last normal conversation you had. She had her memory of her childhood and her life at Hogwarts but you and your father were very much out of the picture.

Your father felt guilty for it. You knew. He wasn’t himself and he took up drinking. It was your auntie, his sister, that sobered him up and he turned to be hard as a rock. The guilt was there… but he hid it behind a hard exterior. He said he had to be tough for the both of you but the truth was, you needed him to be soft again. You needed his smile, his gentle hand raising your chin up when everything felt low. That never happened.

Now you sat in the Divination class, looking at your mother scrambling her things into her large purse and silently talking to herself.

You smiled… you smiled because she did that whether she was crazy or not and that comforted you. It did. It gave you hope that maybe she was still in there- after all these years.

“Khm…” you heard somebody behind you and you turned around, startled.

There was a completely different lightning when you spun around and you couldn’t see whether there was a brown-haired boy- no, red-haired, looking down onto you or a tree, taller than ever.

Until he squatted down to your level, his brown comforting eyes setting on yours and his smile, charming as ever. The feeling of seeing his face felt almost familiar… felt warm. “Thought you might now that the class is over.” He spoke softly and you smiled just as back.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” You said, scrambling your things as well and holding tightly onto your bag. “I just got lost in thought.” You got onto your feet and almost knocking yourself down as your foot got stuck onto the robe.

His hand placed itself on your waist, pulling you slightly back up. Despite that you didn’t fall, he was still ready to catch you.

He removed his hand to avoid discomfort but he eyed your mom and grinned. “Spoke to her about my last assignment. Let me go easy for not turning it in.” He said as he gestured your hand to walk in front of him.

You kindly took to gesture.

“I saw you sitting up there, thought you might entered some universal state from the way your eyes were fixated on the professor.” He said and you felt your cheeks flush from embarrassment.

“Like I said… I got lost in the train of thought.” You replied.

“Yeah, thought I might do a good deed there and check if you were alright.” He smiled and you let out a short laughter.

“No wish to go to hell?” You eyed him.

“That wish evaporated a long time ago.” He whistled for the effect and both of you laughed. “You seem to admire her though… professor Trawlaney, I mean.” He said and you stopped to look at him. “I saw it in your eyes when I looked up. Usually, people-“

“People are cruel.” You finished for him. “And she does have a special place in my heart.” You continued to walk slowly. Nobody knew she was your mother, not even the staff in this school… nobody except the Headmaster and your father. “And that’s the truth.”

He stopped at the intersection and continued to look at you. “Something… something…” he started but it was as if he was lost for words.

“Something what?” You laughed.

“I can’t put words together but something about you…”

[lmk-warrior-cats]

"To name the heavens" - LMK AU Prologue

This is an AU created by @your-average-art-dealer combining Lego Monkie Kid and Warrior Cats. This chapter takes place before the main story of LMK WC and details the day LittleCloud (MK) got his warrior name. This is my first ever fic so please keep that in mind while reading!

...

LittlePaw was terrified. It wasn’t hard to tell- from his fidgeting paws to his quick breaths, he was a bundle of nerves from head to tail. This wasn’t without reason, of course, at sunset he would be receiving his warrior name!

Except… he wasn’t a warrior, not even close. Cicada, one of his dads caregivers, had told him stories of the abandoned cities and mystic realms beyond the walls of their Twoleg’s noodle shop. The tales of great protectors, powerful factions, cosmic powers beyond the wildest imaginations, and the noble origins behind a warrior’s name.

Ever since LittlePaw could remember, Cicada has made it clear that he wanted LittlePaw to follow standard naming traditions, ensuring that he would first possess the suffixes “Kit” then “Paw” and finally he would be given an extension to his name worthy of his accomplishments and skill!- when he was ready…

He wasn’t ready. He would never be ready. He would never be worthy. He wasn’t smart, or powerful, or charismatic, or-

“LittlePaw?”

LittlePaw jumped and swiftly turned to look at the owner of the voice. It was PigBelly. Of course, it was. He could always tell when LittlePaw was worried or sick or any state of being that wasn’t his normal ‘laid-back goofball’ self, and today was no exception. 

Pigbelly jumped up onto the stone wall, sitting next to Littlepaw. “You doin’ alright, kit?”

No. “Yup! Why do you ask?” He lied, flashing a big smile at his guardian. He hoped it would be enough to fool him, but PigBelly only looked at him with concern.

“Y’know you can talk to me, right? it’s not a bad thing… to ask for help when you’re nervous—”

“I’m not nervous!” LittlePaw retorted.

PigBelly let out a heavy sigh and continued “I know you’ve built the whole ‘warrior name’ thing up in your head cuz of the way Cicada talks about how ‘important’ it is,” he rolled his eyes “But it doesn’t really matter- it doesn’t!”

LittlePaw looked down at his paws. “Doesn’t it though? Isn’t your warrior name supposed to mean something? To tell others what makes you special? To define who you are—”

“Nobody gets to tell you who you are, LittlePaw. Nobody.  Not other cats, not the universe, and definitely not some name.”

LittlePaw let a small smile creep onto his face, trying to ignore how wet his eyes felt.

PigBelly looked at him and smiled  “And if anyone EVER tries to tell you who you are-” he chuckled a bit “I’ll make sure they won’t be able to say anything ever again!”

“What?! Pigbelly!” LittlePaw laughed.

“I’m just sayin’!” he turned back to the view beyond the wall “You startin’ to feel better?”

LittlePaw blinked away the wetness in his eyes and sniffed “Yeah…” he looked back at the noodle shop behind them and then back down at his paws “Still though… What if I don’t get a name I like? I wouldn’t want to be called something I don’t like forever…”

“Then we’ll call you something you do like, how’s that sound?”

“...”

“That sounds nice…”

“Perfect! Now come on, the ceremony’s about to start.” he jumped off the wall and started toward the noodle shop before turning back to LittlePaw. “Come on, you wouldn’t want to keep the other kits gettin’ their names tonight waiting do ya?”

LittlePaw looked back up beyond the concrete at the sunlit grass and the orange and yellow hues of the clouds that he held so dear to his heart, the heart which was so heavy at this moment in time. He wished the clouds would just wrap around him and lift the weight off of his soul the same way they lifted the sun. He took a deep breath, he didn’t want his father to worry, and so he laughed “No, I guess not!” taking one last look past the wall, he jumped down towards the shop’s back door where PigBelly was waiting for him.

…

The sun was going down when they arrived at the ceremony, and LittlePaw had noted that almost every cat in the city that still followed warrior traditions was there. Most he recognized, but some he did not. PigBelly led him to where two other kits were waiting to get their names and then left to sit with CicadaWing, who had arrived before the other two.

LittlePaw knew that today could change his life forever, for better or for worse, but he knew there was nothing he could do to get out of this, so he decided to strike up a conversation with the other two kits next to him.

“So… what do you guys think your names will be?”

The smaller of the two spoke first. “I think my name will be something epic! Like… like HawkTalon! Or HawkStrike! Or—”

“HawkTalon is NOT a cool name! Besides mine will be SO much better than yours!” The taller of the two said.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yup!” he continued “It’ll be something majestic! Maybe something like GoldenLeaf! Yeah, that sounds good!

“That name is NOT cooler than my names!” she screeched

“Yes, it is!”

Judging by what LittlePaw heard, he guessed that their names were HawkPaw and GoldenPaw—

Something in the back of his mind interjected- “Not for long though! Just like me…”

He tried to push that thought farther back in his mind as he continued to listen to the two bicker for what felt like an eternity-  until the ceremony leader, whose name he definitely learned and definitely remembered, called the kits to stand before him.

He began by stating how important of a day it was for the three kits in front of him, which made LittlePaw feel sick to his stomach, and then going on to explain the order they would be called upon and given their names. 

HawkPaw was up first. LittlePaw wasn’t really able to hear them very well over his beating heart but he tried to pick up as much as he could:

“HawkPaw, for your bravery, strength, and-” his voice was fading in and out “For your intensity and spirit-” Why was everything blurry? “your title from here until the end of time-” LittlePaw’s head shot up “will be HawkHeart!”

HawkHeart beamed and started to jump up and down, saying her name over and over again like she wouldn’t want to say anything else ever again. She was told to take her place back in line and GoldenPaw was called to step forward next.

LittlePaw started to feel a little better seeing HawkHeart so ecstatic about her name. He thought if HawkHeart got a name she loved so much, why wouldn’t he? He began to get lost in the possibilities about what kind of name he might get when—

“GoldenPool!”

The leader’s voice cut through his thoughts, causing him to jump. LittlePaw looked up to see GoldenPool looking quite happy with his new name (or at least looking decently smug about it) and he stepped back to take his place back in line with the others.

LittlePaw’s newfound excitement was starting to dissolve his worry as he was called up to receive his name.

The leader looked at LittlePaw with an unreadable expression and began:

“LittlePaw, from the moment I or anyone else in attendance is concerned, you have made it very clear to us exactly who you are since the very beginning-”

LittlePaw looked up at him with a smile, which quickly turned to a look of horror at the disdain written all over the leader’s face.

“You, LittlePaw, are scatterbrained-”

The light faded

“Implusive-”

The wind stopped

“And dimwitted.”

The clouds were gone

“Because of this, your new name-”

The sun was falling

“From now until the end of time-”

Nothing remained

“Will be LittleCloud.”

...

And that's the prologue! hope you enjoyed it, or at least felt irreparable damage to your soul afterward!

Any questions related to the AU or this specific work can be sent to the Askbox (which is always open!) so please don't hesitate to send something over there!

Also if you're wondering how the name LittleCloud relates to being dumb and impulsive, I was referencing when people say your "head is in the clouds" or "your mind is cloudy" just those general things :)

[kirausamaria]

Stolitz’ Fanfic: Boyfriend’s Therapy Session.

This is the first fanfic I have even added a fanart to, but I wanted to do something special for reaching 1000 plus followers on Twitter. Thank you so much for your love and support even when I don’t share too much art or fanfics (life’s fault), and I hope I can make you smile a little with this fanfic.

Stolas was expectantly looking at the main entrance of the palace, waiting for his dear Blitzy to arrive. Since they started dating they made a compromise of meeting at least twice a week, and until now Blitzo had kept his promise and arrived at his palace, or Stolas would visit at his place when his work finished a little later than usual. Everything was going smoothly for both of them.

‘Only 10 minutes left’, Stolas said to himself, happily looking at the clock.

10 minutes later, Blitzo opened up the door and entered with lazy legs. As Stolas stood up to receive him with a huge squeezy hug, he stopped when noticing something wasn’t alright.

Blitzo had a very tired face. You could even say he looked gloomy. Who are we kidding, the whole background behind him had a dark gray color.

‘Erm, Blitzy, are you alright?’

      ‘Of course, better than ever! Why would you even ask that?’Blitzo grumbled just clear enough and tugged himself to the living room’s sofa in order to sink his full face on it.

Stolas walked to the sofa as well and sat on the corner, silently staring at the depressed imp for a couple of seconds before opening his mouth:

‘Blitzo, are you sure you’re ok?

‘I mean, I woke up today so I guess my day was good enough’, Blitzo replied with a muffled voice because of the cushions.

‘Would you like to talk to me about it?’

‘Ugh…’

Blitzo lifted his face to see a cute Stolas smiling while gently patting his own lap. How could Blitzo refuse his invitation? He crawled a little forward in order to rest his head on it. He needed some soft head strokes from his fluffy boyfriend in order to gain some strength to talk.

‘Well, actually I had a little argument with Loona this morning at the office’, Blitzo started explaining while looking at the floor. ‘I told her she should be more careful when going out with shady guys with ill intentions because they could hurt her. She just yelled at me telling me she was strong enough to handle things by herself and to back off. I begged her not to be with boys who could be a bad influence and she answered back telling me I was a bad influence myself and she just walked away.’

Stolas didn’t say a thing, he just kept listening at his boyfriend, waiting until he finished letting everything out.

‘I mean, she is not wrong, I did a bunch of things I’m not proud of, and hurted people I cared about…it’s just *sniffles*...I’m trying to do better, I really am, but not sure if it’ll ever be enough for Loona to listen to me, to love me’.

Blitzo just stopped talking and hid his face on Stolas’ robe. Stolas could feel some small and warm teardrops falling on it, and even when he tried to look calm while listening to Blitzo, he could only imagine how he felt as father to be dismissed for things he had done in the past.

‘Oh, my dear Blitzy’, Stolas finally replied while caressing Blitzo’s head, ‘I know sometimes because of fights like that you may feel that your daughter doesn’t appreciates you, but during the times I’ve spent together with you all I was able to see it, little moments that showed me how much she cares and understands you really love her. 

‘Really?, Blitzo asked with a soft whine. ‘Like what moments?’

‘Remember when you got sick and stayed home while I tried to help with the office’s paperwork? I was actually making such a mess *giggles*, not on purpose of course. Loona got angry at me and explained to me how to do things properly so you wouldn’t have to do extra work after you came back. Then after the job was done and I was about to leave and go to your apartment…do you remember that topper full of soup I got for you to eat?’

‘Huh, yeah, you made it for me, right?’

Stolas started scratching the back of his neck. 

‘Well, actually Loona made it’.

‘Sorry, what?’

‘Yeah, Loona prepared it at the office’s cafeteria. She brought a bunch of veggies and cooked it as well as she could. She was too shy to ask Moxxie for help, I guess’. Stolas said with a wide smile staring at Blitzo who had finally lifted his head from his lap.

‘Loona…did she really do that for me?’ 

‘Of course! He was worried for his dad!’, Stolas replied. ‘She made me swear I’d say I made it, but I’m only responsible for bringing you the medication and the horsie plushie’.

‘Loona…my sweet baby…she actually loves me…’ Blitzo started sniffling again while standing up and hugging tight to Stolas’ chest trying to hide his tears.

‘Blitzy, sometimes children say things that are hurtful because of the heat of the moment’, Stolas continued while reciprocating Blitzo’s hug. ‘I’ve been there with Via as well, it’s something that happens. But do not be wrong, everytime you show them worry and caring to them they feel it, they know your love is genuine. I know you have had a rough life path Blitzy, but each one of us can see how hard you’re trying to make things change for the better. You trying so hard to move forward and improve yourself for all of us around you is one of the reasons I fell in love with you’.

Blitzo sobbed quietly for a couple of minutes before he was calm enough to look at Stolas, who patiently waited until he was ready. 

‘Ugh, my bad, I hate to be seen like this, it’s so embarrassing’.

‘Aww, you don’t have to be embarrassed for showing me your crying face at all, Blitzy’, Stolas said with a sweet smile. ‘Your softness is another reason why I love you so much.’

‘I knew you were a f**king sadist’, Blitzo replied with a low voice. His face was blushing a little.

‘Do you feel a little better darling?’

‘Yeah, I guess so. Erm, thank you Stols’, Blitzo said with a shy smile.

‘Always my pleasure my sweet little imp’.

‘Stop calling me those names God damnit!’ Blitzo started giving little punches with his closed fists to Stolas, with a face redder than before.

‘Ahahaha, I’m sorry! You’re so cute I just want to give you all the pet names in the world!’, Stolas said while covering himself laughing.

‘Mmph!’ Blitzo pouted and saw the opposite way. Stolas knew he wasn’t actually angry. Actually he looked much calmer than before their talk. But Stolas was planning to improve his dear boyfriend’s humor a little more. Giving Blitzo a happy look he said:

‘You know what darling? I feel you’re still feeling a little down. Why don’t we work a little on it? You look like you need to relax a little more’, Stolas said, getting closer to Blitzo in a very suspicious way.

‘Stolas, I think I’m good enough to move forward with it so…’. Blitzo suddenly paused and recognized the naughty look Stolas always gave him when ‘that’ was about to happen. ‘Oh no, Stolas, don’t you even think about it…no, I refuse and…Woah!’.

Blitzo didn’t move quickly enough to Stolas grabbing him and cradding him like he was a big cat. He then gave him a little nuzzle and giving happy leaps he reached the bedroom. Then he laid on the bed still holding Blitzo with one arm, long enough to hold on his legs so he couldn’t go away.

‘Stolas, I, I swear to f**ing Satan that if you don’t let me go I…’. Blitzo was stuttering and trying not to show his excitement for what was about to come.

‘Oh, my little Blitzy, no need to be shy. Just enjoy your therapy session of the day, you really need it, don’t you think so?’ Stolas mischievously said.

‘I f**ing don’t, ok? J-ust don’t do it, I…Mmmph!’ Stolas started giving him peppering kisses and smooches all over his face, focusing more on his cheeks because he knew it made Blitzo giggle almost instantaneously. Blitzo tried to make an upset face as long as he could, but it was a lost cause.

‘S-Stolas, no, I’m warning y-you, cuhut it out…no…stop…pfff! Hehehe, nohoho…’

‘Oh, you’re laughing! That’s wonderful, it seems like you’re enjoying my kisses my dear Blitzy!

‘Nohoho, I’m nohohot!’, Blitzo protested between giggles. Not very convincing.

‘Oh, maybe you need a little more affection!’ Stolas then started walking his fingers slowly on Blitzo’s stomach, trying to get a wobbly nervous smile from him, which wasn’t too hard to do. Blitzo was very susceptible to Stolas’ playful teasing.

‘Please, don’t dohoho it…, I will…pfff! Ehehehehe!’.

Stolas wiggled a single finger over Blitzo’s stomach, giving light tickles only. Usually Stolas would tickle Blitzo with all his might to the point of Blitzo falling asleep right away after his play, but on this occasion Stolas just wanted to pamper him and make him feel happy. 

‘Ehehehe, Stohohoolas! Nohohot there, hehehe!’, Blitzo said between giggles and squirms. ‘Not my stomach, hehehe!’

‘But your stomach is so soft , cute and ticklish, I can’t stop tickling it!’, Stolas replied, not using all his hand’s fingers to keep the soft tickles going, making Blitzo laugh and squirm harder.

‘Ahahahaha! Stahahahahap!’

‘I got your belly button!’, Stolas cooed while wiggling one finger inside Blitzo’s belly button, after going under his shirt. It didn’t tickle as much as the rest of his stomach but Blitzo still laughed.

‘You f***heheher, juhuhust wait until I’m freheheheee!’, Blitzo yelled before falling into more laughter. Stolas just laughed at seeing his boyfriend trying to sound menacing with no avail. 

‘Aww Blitzy! You trying to sound menacing under these circumstances is totally adorable! Please do it again!’, Stolas cooed again, while tickling Blitzo’s neck with his fingers this time, making him squirm from one side to another, trying to cover the side of his neck Stolas attacked alternatively .

‘Ahahaha, I hate you sohohoho much!’, Blitzo said without meaning it so much.

‘Oh, is that so? Maybe you don’t feel relaxed enough yet. What if we focus on your favorite spot now?’.

Blitzo knew what spot he meant, but tried to act like he didn’t. ‘Whahahat the f*ck you’re talking about, hahaha!’.

‘Oh, yes you do, my dear Blitzy!’. Stolas began playfully walking his fingers from Blitzo’s stomach to his ribs, poking in some places just to keep his excitement going, Blitzo couldn’t stop giving nervous giggles while Stolas’ fingers were close to reach that feared spot.

When Stolas’ hand reached the upper rib right under his underarm and tickled  there, Blitzo jolted and let out a loud squeal while laughing and squirming like crazy.

‘There it is! There’s that happy spot! Stolas cooed while holding his own laughter. Blitzo’s laughter was Stolas’ serotonin without a doubt. Blitzo weakly tried to protect his side and squirmed on Stolas’ arm, and then let out a squeak when Stolas suddenly changed to tickle his other side.

Blitzo didn’t give any smart ass comeback as he usually did. He’d rather die than admitting that he really loved being tickled there, but the fact that he kept quiet while laughing his a** off meant he was trying to enjoy every single second of his tickle therapy. 

When Stolas vibrated both of his hands while still holding Blitzo on both sides of his ribs, he let out such a loud and happy squeal that his embarrassment grew about 150%.

‘Aww, that was such a cute sound! Please do it again for me!’ Stolas cooed while still teasing his dear mate’s ribs.

‘Youhhhhuuu…ahahaha *hic*! F*ck, hahaha *hic* stahahahap!’

‘Alright, alright, I’ll change places now’, Stolas said, holding Blitzo now over his chest. Then he started quickly poking his back, making him jumpy and squirmy all over again, especially when Stolas poked a very ticklish spot. 

Blitzo could only squirm and laugh, his face hidden on Stolas’ fluffy chest, trying not to show him his face, now red as a tomato. That changed when Stolas dug his fingers on his lower back. Blitzo instinctively arched his back, showing his face and cackling.

‘Ahahaha! Stolahahahas! Nohohot therehehehe!’

‘Why not? You love when I scratch the base of your tail’.

‘But not like thihihhis! Stahahahap!’

‘Alright, I just give you a little more treatment and I’m done’, Stolas said with the sweetest voice he could ever do, making Blitzo afraid about what would be coming next.

Stolas suddenly lifted Blitzo from his low back and let Blitzo’s waist and head hanging from the bed, making his blouse go down to his chest. Because of the force of gravity it was very hard for Blitzo  to lift his arms and protect himself from what Stolas was planning.

Stolas walked his fingers over Blitzo’s stomach at a very slow pace, making him both afraid and excited, making it hard not to start giggling in front of Stolas. First making circles around Blitzo’s belly button, then proceeded to skitter his talons all over Blitzo’s stomach and ribs, making him laugh at an instant.

‘Tktktktktkt!’

‘Nahahahah! Stolahahahahs! You’re the worhohohorst ahahaha!’

‘Oh, really? I thought I was the sweetest boyfriend ever, giving my dear imp boyfriend so much attention!’, Stolas said feigning ignorance. Then he started softly scratching each rib and then giving him soft pinches on them, making Blitzo all giggly and squirmy.

‘You’re so cute, my dear Blitzy! How was I able to get the most handsome, yet the most ticklish imp in the whole hell?’.

Blitzo just stopped fighting all at once, now too lazy to lift his arms and fight against Stolas. His tickles were too light to even care, and at this point Blitzo was having a lot of fun feeling Stolas’ caring touch. Blitzo had given up a long time ago about falling in love, even more getting love from someone, but Stolas was giving him just that right now. Every touch, every caress he received from the owl prince, made him both shudder and melt.

After almost 10 minutes of being upside down laughing and hipcupping,  Stolas lifted Blitzo and gave him a tight hug, giving him a moment to compose himself. Blitzo finally gave a long sight and stared at his boyfriend.

‘God damnit Stolas! You and your silly games!’

‘Did I go a little too far, perhaps?’, Stolas replied, tilting his head and looking too cute for Blitzo to even fake he was angry at him. He just looked away, blushing.

‘As always’, he said. Next time it will be your turn to get a therapy session, and it will be a full 1 hour session!’

‘Oh, really? Do I need an appointment for that?’, Solas replied, a little too enthusiastic about that scenario’.

‘Ugh, I forgot you enjoy anything I do to you’.

‘Wait, you don’t enjoy everything I do to you?’stolas said, faking being offended.

‘Anyways, I’m tired and I just wanna go to bed now. Can we just take a bath and rest?’

‘Of course! Let me take you to the royal bath, your Highness!’, Stolas playfully said while carrying Blitzo to the bathroom as if they were dancing in a ball. Blitzo couldn’t do anything but stare at his charming Prince’s eyes while dancing, hypnotizing him.

‘Mom, look at the new trick I learnt today!’ A little Blitzo yelled while approaching his mom with a giant circus ball. His mom just stopped what she was doing and sat looking honestly eager to see what his son had prepared for her. His little twin sister also quickly joined the audience.

Holding a little baton on his right hand, Blitzo began spinning it and then jumped on the ball, doing circles across the room while still spinning the baton. Then he jumped backwards letting the baton go, kept standing on the now still ball and holding it with his tail. 

When the act was done, both his mom and sister clapped, smiling a lot.

‘Oh, my Blitzo! You’re so talented! Everyone will love your act!’

‘Do you really think so mom?’, Blitzo said with shinny hopeful eyes, receiving a hug from his mom. ‘Do you think people will love me’.

His mom kindly smiled.

‘Of course Blitzo. Someday people will love you as much as I do’. His mom held him tightly and gave him a lot of smooches, making him giggle.

Blitzo opened his eyes to find himself in the arms of Stolas, who was already asleep. Blitzo could feel his warm breath on the nape of his neck, and his soft chest feathers warming his back. Beginning to doze off again Blitzo took Stolas’ arm and held it against his chest, letting himself be hugged by him.

Before falling asleep, Blitzo mumbled to himself while smiling:

‘Mom, I’ve finally found someone who loves me’.

Hope you all enjoyed my fanfic. If you want to support me to work on more fanfics or art you can buy me a coffee on my Ko-fi site, https://ko-fi.com/kirausamaria 

[lonesome-witching]

Married

Another wedding. This time one in the rich Robin, poor Nancy universe. If you want to read the previous parts, you can find : Part 1 here, Part 2 here, Part 3 here, Part 4 here , and Part 5 here.

Do you have any prompts yourself? Or do you want to dive into what I wrote before? You can read my previous prompts or send me some new ones.

Nancy had insisted that it would be a small wedding. Their closest family members, some friends, that was it. Nothing big, nothing expensive. Because Robin had to pay for everything. And Nancy still felt guilty about it.

She felt guilty about the expensive white dress Robin’s mom had insisted on. She felt guilty about the grandiose meal Robin’s father had picked out. She didn’t even want to know how much the Buckley’s had spent on this day.

But as she stood in the doorway, holding her mother’s arm, ready to walk out there towards her future, she felt the guilt fade away. She was going to enjoy today. This was the first day of the rest of her life. A life she would share with Robin Buckley, this whirlwind of a woman that had wormed her way into Nancy’s heart. She could barely remember her life without Robin. And there she was, at the end of the aisle, Nancy’s final destination.

“Are you ready?” Karen asked, squeezing Nancy’s arm.

Nancy nodded her head. She had never been more ready for anything. She wanted to stand next to Robin, wanted to vow to love her forever, wanted to kiss her. She wanted to start her life, really start her life. Even if she was still living on campus, even Robin was working overtime. She was worried they were beginning to mimic Nancy’s parents. They all knew how that turned out.

But Nancy wasn’t her mother and Robin definitely wasn’t like Ted. They wouldn’t make her parents’ mistake. Even if they were also marrying young. So far they had gone down the exact same path. Robin had a cushy job at her patents’ firm just like her dad had before they committed fraud, she had the money, she came from a good family.

“Mom,” she whispered softly as they took a step forward.

“Yes?”

“Did you ever love dad?” There was a fear clawing at her heart. Did she make a mistake? Maybe they should have waited.

“What? What is going through that head of yours?”

“Did you?”

Karen sighed, pulling Nancy forward. “Your dad was easy. I don’t think I ever truly loved him. It was a long time ago, Nancy.”

She loved Robin. That was the difference. She loved Robin. And Robin wasn’t easy. They would make this work. Nancy wanted to marry her. They wouldn’t end like their parents. She wouldn’t let them.

“You look beautiful,” Robin whispered once she was in earshot. Nancy couldn’t help but smile.

-

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a speech to make.” Richard Buckley stood up, holding his glass. “Tonight, my only daughter has gotten married to the woman she loves. I never expected this outcome, I will admit that. But I would be an idiot if I wasn’t happy for my baby girl. When she first brought Nancy home, it just felt like they belonged together. And here we are. A few years later, and the two of them are married. Now, I can yap on about this beautiful moment for ages, but I think we all want to get on with it. So, to celebrate these two wonderful women, I’d like to give them our wedding gift.”

Robin leaned towards Nancy. “I asked for a honeymoon to Venice.”

Richard pushed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “We’d like to give you your first home. But don’t you worry, Nancy, it is not at the end of a cul-de-sac.”

“Oh my God, dad, is this real?” Robin jumped up. He dropped the keys in his hand.

“Of course it is.”

“Dad,” Robin whispered, “I told you not to go overboard. The trip to Venice would have already been a lot. But this… Nancy doesn’t like to be spoiled.”

Nancy cleared her throat, grabbing Robin’s hand. “Thank you so much, mister Buckley. I cannot express my gratitude. Thank you so much.”

“Oh, please, call me Richard.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Robin asked. Her eyes were begging for Nancy to be honest.

“Yes, Robin, it’s alright. In fact, I think it’s lovely.”

“Alright, then I’ll pay for the trip to Venice.”

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 22 -- Harold/Bob

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober 2023, Day 22 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Exhibitionism with Harold/Bob x F!Reader

I...

This... This needed to be like 5k words longer but I didn't have time for that so here's a snippet of a much larger idea than was meant for kinktober

Anyway though, Harold is a lovely, lovely man who made me feel so many sad things when I played FO3 as a kid. Ugh, he's SUCH a great character. Aaaaand... kinda challenging to write for, idea-wise 😅 ngl, but hopefully y'all love this one!

Maybe when I have spare time one day (😂😭) I'll return and add some more to this!

Here is the link to my  Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included: Exhibitionism (kinda sorta), kissing, confessions, fantasies, forbidden love, trees, wood, um... dry humping, self actualization. TW for suicidal thoughts!

Words: 3.8k

*note: Lone and Branchtender Cypress are the same person*

--

The newest branchtender had never been shy. 

Once you became privy to the freedoms that such a place as this could offer you, when you saw the green, when you met the one… Harold, his brilliance, his sacrifice, when you saw the legacy he would leave in his wake… How could you ever have left? 

You weren't coy about your feelings of appreciation for the Oasis deity, nor your want to help, and you certainly didn't shy away from ruffling some feathers, as it were.

It was among the many numerous things that he truly appreciated about you in return.

Harold’s eyes couldn’t shift too far from their allotted position, nestled frustratingly in Bob’s trunk as they were, but you always managed to make him wish– more zealously than usual– that he could move of his own accord. That he could… maybe, just sort of… touch you? 

Yes, he’d like that very much. 

It’d been years since Harold felt another person, since someone reached out to touch him in earnest. Even Bob hadn’t felt the prod of a hand recently, since the rules had changed, since the people had caught wind of Harold's more recent… thoughts. 

Maybe I wouldn’t want to be gone if there were more who treated me like you do.

Like a person. 

He remembered distinctly the first time the two of you met, when you’d told him why you wanted to become a branchtender, when you had to convince him to let you into Oasis permanently. It hadn’t taken much, no, because when you reached out and shook his branch like it was his hand, when you looked him in the eye and smiled your broad smile, it brought back memories of genuine personhood that he hadn't felt since... what, a hundred years or so ago? Even when your touch lingered for a moment, even when Tree Father Birch had told you not to, when Harold knew how the others feared to touch him, that they might hinder his spread, or expand it– depending on who you asked-- even through all of that uncertainty, you'd only pulled away when Harold had said it was alright.

You held no such notions as the others, no such fear, apparently. Especially not now. 

Harold knew you weren’t popular among the Treeminders, the Branchtenders, even the Bloomseer wished not to permit you in Harold’s grove. But he favored you, that much was clear to everyone in Oasis. 

“I can speak to the others…” You told him, sitting on the root structure that was once his arm, gazing upon his face without flinching. 

You never flinched away from his visage, nor did you altogether refuse to look upon his face, as a few of the Oasis-goers had decided was respectful. 

To him it was… How could it not be dehumanizing?

“Maybe get them to lighten up. To see you like I do, Harold. Then you wouldn’t be alone in here so often, maybe they could even… I don’t know, touch you? L-like I did that first time, you know?” 

Harold hummed, his eyes downcast. 

“I have you.” He said, quietly. Undecided if he wanted to say it aloud at all, but sometimes Bob shoved the thoughts right out so they wouldn't take up space. 

At least, he thought it was Bob doing that. 

“Yes.” You said, and your hand rubbed over a knot in his bark– Bob’s bark. “But am I enough? I can’t… Harold, I can’t be all that’s making you want to, well, you know… Stay here.” 

“But you are. Now.” 

He saw your lip give a small tremble, before you hid it with a grin. Your eyes though… they still held that sadness. 

“That’s sweet, but it's not healthy, Harold. There needs to be more.” 

He made a pouty sound at that. 

Says who?

It was nice to have even one thing to stick around here for. Couldn’t you see that? That you already did the impossible?

“I want to know something.” Your soft voice prompted him, just as one small hand reached to brush over the bark that was once his cheek. You had to strain your arm to do it, had to sit all the way up, but oh, how he wished with everything he had that he could lean into it, feel beyond what Bob allowed him to of your soft hand. 

“Hm?” 

“Tree Father and Tree Mother, they both have these ideas of what we should do with you, how we should... use you and Bob’s resources to either change the wasteland or to keep you and us safe and secret.”

He tried nodding in understanding, but all he could manipulate were his eyes. 

It didn't have the same effect, he feared.

“Well…" You continued, "They keep talking about what to do with you, like you’re… a resource and not a person.” 

“I know.” 

“Well, frankly, that’s shitty.” 

He rumbled out a laugh, feeling Bob’s topmost branches tremble slightly with the action. 

“Harold.” You said his name so sweetly, softly, like friends speak to each other, like… Like he imagined he’d want to speak to the people he loved. If he’d ever had those. 

It was hard to remember. 

“Hon, what do you want?” Your hand was still firmly on his cheek. He could feel heat permeating the layer of bark there. “I know you sort of told me the day we met, but… It seems like that’s– maybe, that’s changed?” 

“Yes.” He said, with a decisiveness he didn’t intend, but was there all the same. “It has changed. Now… The others, they can do what they please with me and Bob.”

“But–” You tried, pulling your hand away like he’d prodded you with a thorn. 

“I want you.” He finished, that decisiveness never wavering, though… despite the certainty, it did surprise him.

Never… confessed anything like this before. Not to anyone. 

That… well, that I can remember.  

Your expression stayed soft, safe, non judgmental, non accusatory, as your eyes darted back and forth, ensuring there was truth in both of his before speaking your response. 

“Harold… You’re not just saying this… Well, because I’m the only one who speaks to you like this, right? I don’t want this– these feelings you’re telling me you have, to just come from my being nice to you. That’s not fair either.” 

You held eye contact with him all the while, genuine sympathy and curiosity shining there. 

How could you think his feelings were just… by default? 

To him, anyway, it was obvious. 

Other Treeminders, branchtenders, had loved him before, been kind to him, revered him, even. But always because of Bob. What Bob allowed him to become, and maybe… maybe that’s what had drawn you to him at first as well, but now… It was Harold you stayed for, wasn’t it?

With the way you spoke his name, looked into his eyes, asked him about his wants, his needs… how could it not be him?

“Weeks.” He said, and you cocked your head slightly. 

He couldn’t help his hard-to-read grin. 

“We’ve been talking all that time. You’re interesting, kind, see me as human, yes. But more.” 

“More?” You urged him, and Harold couldn’t dream of denying you. 

“See me as a human you can connect to. We talk about many things, and all of them are interesting, so many things we have in common. Even with our… differences.” 

A small smile glowed in your eyes , and softened your expression further. Harold’s gaze never wavered, though you knew the words left him with effort, both physical and emotional.

“I want you so I may talk with you, to have your company.” 

“You will.” You answered so hastily, even tilting forward from where you sat in the curve of what used to be his right arm, almost toppling out of it. 

He tried to catch you, but Bob held firm to his limbs. As he always did. 

With you, he could almost forget. 

“You will, Harold.” You saved yourself from falling, bracing your arm against the main section of his trunk. “I’m not going anywhere, I… I love talking to you, too.” 

Maybe to save face from falling off of him, or maybe because you just wanted to, you wrapped your hands around his trunk– Bob’s– and hugged him, just beneath his face. 

Bark creaked and branches rustled as Harold made an effort to reach back, to drop his chin to rest on your shoulder, to bring one arm around your body, to lean into your touch, but Bob halted him. 

Harold felt he could scream at the opposition, but… he couldn’t startle you with his frustrations. Instead, he sat in silence, savoring what he could of your touch, relishing in the mere thought that you were doing this at all. Sharing your warmth with him, making the effort to show how you cared, disobeying everything his other keepers in Oasis would have told you just to show him you wanted to feel him against you. 

“Wish that I could return this favor.” He said, instead of crying out his frustrations with Bob to you. Like you hadn’t heard that complaint a thousand times already. 

“Hmm?” You asked without removing yourself. 

“Wish, Lone, that I could… touch you.” 

“Bob won’t let you, huh?” Now you pulled back, just enough so he could look upon your face. 

“Afraid not. He… I’m constrained by him. No matter how I try.” 

“Well… um, can I…?”

Harold blinked as you trailed off suggestively. If it were possible, his mouth would be running dry right about then. 

“Can I talk to Bob?” You finished, and a somber sort of relief washed over him. 

Harold couldn’t answer you at first. His brows furrowed, and in his mind, he tried to reach out, to find anything but the pulsing wordless communications that Bob always released, directed to him, and to the other trees and saplings that acted as his spawn all throughout Oasis. 

Their conversations were mildly distracting, especially when Harold was alone and silent in the grove, but now, with you here, the bound man had to strain to make out their strange, slow voices. 

“Not in a way that will get through to him.” Harold finally answered you, after Bob ignored his mental prodding for the umpteenth time since they were joined. 

“Alright, well… Can I then…” You ended with a distinct clear of your throat. Your body against Bob’s bark; even down to Harold’s core, he could feel the way your heart picked up, the way you flushed with heat against him. 

“Yes?”

“I could touch you, if you want? You know… enough for both of us.” 

If his eyes were wide before, now they were akin to twin moons as his mouth hung agape and he appeared to short-circuit. 

“H-Harold?” 

“Lone… You… want this, too?” 

When you nodded, he could swear that his heart damn-near stopped. 

How ironic that would have been. 

With a distinct swallow, you nodded to him. Your eyes couldn’t meet his then, either. To see you embarrassed… about anything, it was more than strange. 

Harold thought you were the freest of them all, the most outward with your thoughts, your true self, and now… to know the one viable secret he knew you were keeping was potential feelings for him? 

“I was afraid to tell you.” You said quietly, “Afraid what you might think, or say, and the others, well…” You trailed off with a lovely chuckle, and Harold’s gruff timbre of a laugh followed. 

“The others don’t matter. They only care for Bob, what he can do for them. For all the wasteland. Harold is just… an afterthought.”

“Well, you’re not to me.” 

You released your hold on him as you spoke, turning to grasp his rooted arm with your soft hands, before hauling yourself back up onto that perch. Harold, not for the first, nor the last, time this evening, wished he could break one of his hands away from Bob’s grasp to reach out to you, to help balance you, as you wavered in your place on him. 

You stood on his limb now, level with his strange face, and pondered it. 

He felt you could see right through him. Not just through Bob and into Harold’s human shell, but into him. See his soul, even. 

He didn’t know what exactly you were looking for, but you stood for a long moment, just… running your eyes over him, like he was something you could read. Just… observing. 

Truth seeking. Something in his mind offered, and if he could’ve, Harold would’ve nodded his agreement to himself. 

“I want to kiss you.” You said decidedly, and Harold tried to recoil. Still, even with your words, your hands on him, your embrace… The thought was something so inconceivable for him, so… splendorous, that it felt like a dream. 

Perhaps you did kill me, and this is just the eternal dream. 

If that’s the case, waking would be more torture than getting bound to Bob all over again. 

“Alright.” Was all he could manage, in his shock, and the grin you answered with set his chest ablaze with affection. 

You leaned forward, bracing a hand on either side of his face, your fingers catching at the knobby protrusions– also courtesy of Bob– that made up some semblance of cheekbones. His eyes followed your lips as they pursed in preparation, and he found himself wishing– more so than for anything else he’d ever imagined– that he could move, that Bob would allow him this one small favor for dragging him all across the wasteland, for letting him tie Harold to this place for eternity, just once could he move of his accord again? 

Just for this.

 Your lips pressed to his mouth, to the grotesque, always-open marionette of what used to be his proper face, his proper lips, and yet… 

There was no crude pull-away, no startled mumble against him, not even the slightest flinch as you pressed forward and sighed. 

That sound rattled through him, like the sap seeping through his veins, it poured life into him. 

“Lone…” Harold whispered to you so softly, his voice reminded him of before. 

Before Bob, before he was a ghoul, even. A before that was famously long ago.

You still didn’t relent, moving that delectable mouth over his, tasting him, drawing out this euphoric feeling that had him believing he still was human. He wished he could taste you, know what it was like to be so close, to feel your breaths wash over his tongue, to clack his teeth against yours until you both pulled back in a fit of laughter, where he wished he could then wrap both arms around you. 

Harold wanted to roll to the grassy earth with you in his embrace, out of breath from your shared mirth as you both drew back in for another taste. He would run his mouth over the seam of your own, and you would boldly answer his call. With you still nestled in his grasp, he would move his way down your body, exploring, feeling. No patch of skin, no freckle, no scar would escape his scrutiny. 

He had so much time. This? It could last an eternity and not feel like even a blink to him after all that Bob put him through. He would use every second of it to see you, to smooth his hands over you, feel your heartbeat below your skin, feel the sweat form there, see the passion growing in your eyes. 

He’d take you, there, in the grass. 

Harold didn’t take much of anything, not ever in his life. He’s been somewhat of a pushover for most of it– Bob clearly had exploited that fact. 

But he would take you. 

You lent him your boldness, your unapologetic passion, your zest for all that life had to offer; your acceptance of him… he could borrow that, too, for tonight. 

He would pull you into his lap on that sweet, quiet patch of grass, hear you moan out his name as you felt his hardness beneath you. Those stringy clothes you wore, that already failed to conceal all that much, he’d pull them apart and bare you to him until there was nothing left for him to uncover. 

Your taste there, too, between your legs… He’d spend half an eternity just there, pulling your honey past his wanton lips until his chin dripped and he was drunk on nothing but you. And if he didn’t die there, between your divine thighs, then he would use every last living breath he had to worship the rest of you. 

Then he could be happy in this life of his, no matter how long he was stuck here for. 

It was with that thought that Harold returned to himself. 

Your lips dragged over him, and he could so nearly taste your breath, he could feel the warmth of your hands–close as they were to his eyes. 

“H-Harold.” You pulled back, and his eyes blinked open to admire you. 

You were out of breath, your eyes glossy and… blown wider than he’d ever seen them. 

“You taste… like nothing I’ve ever–”

“What is this heresy?” 

You froze where you leaned against Harold, as Tree Father Birch’s voice rang clear through the grove.

“I knew this was wrong, I knew you were plotting something, Branchtender Cypress, and this…” A disgusted throaty sound finished the sentence for him, and Harold felt something stir in him. Deep in his roots, not even Bob’s, but Harold’s roots… they boiled. 

“Away from Him." The Tree Father ordered, "Now, Cypress. Away from the grove and seek out Bloom–”

“No.” Harold’s voice growled, and he felt the ground shake from the lowness of it. 

Your hands gripped at him tighter. 

“W-what– but, but your highest–”

“He wants you to go. Father.” You spat the words out, relishing in the way it made Birch's face glow red to hear you command him on his god’s behalf. 

“B-but… No. That cannot be. I am the Tree Father, I speak for what is best for–”

“Lone is what’s best for Harold." He grumbled out, like the sound of groaning wood about to be severed. "What’s best for Harold is also best for Bob.” 

Tree Father Birch shook his head, his brows creased, despondent, like he was losing a loved one before his very eyes. 

“No, no, no. This cannot be.” He started forward, moving with intent towards the pair. 

Harold’s eyes darted to your face, the way your expression was curled in a defensive snarl. He wasn’t sure if it was true or not, but Harold felt his own features held that same malice right about now. 

“She has manipulated you, your greatness. Cypress wishes to have control for herself, she came to Oasis just for that! On a whim, she decided to join us, only after seeing you. Is this a coincidence? Does she want you to sustain your people, like I do, or will she take what she can before throwing us all into the fire?” 

A growl was forming low in Harold’s trunk. The topmost branches began to shake, just as the ground groaned in protest to the tree’s movement– small as it might be on the outside, it shook the very foundations of the grove.

“It’s what the Bloomseer saw. When she looked at your fate, the day that Cypress arrived here, she saw flames and anguish and death where Oasis once stood.”

"You’re an imbecile.” You piped up, with the full intent to continue with an explanation, but it was too late. He was close enough to you now that, when your words pushed the Tree Father over the edge, he could reach you. 

Birch lunged forward, his gnarled hand met your ankle, and he pulled hard against it, until you toppled, falling in between Harold’s trunk and his rooted arm. Through his and Bob’s connection, Harold felt the way bits of your skin tore against his bark, he heard your pained sounds, and his eyes glowed red and angry as hot coals. 

“Enough!” He bellowed until the grove’s voices went silent, the grassy ground ceased its whispers, the trees paused their conversations, Bob stood at attention, and Birch…

Harold didn’t know how it happened, couldn’t have said quite when, but his hand… His hand. Harold’s left hand was wrapped around the Tree Father’s throat. 

The man’s eyes were nearly bulging from his head from the force, and Harold released him just as suddenly. 

He paid no more mind to the Tree Father as he slid to the floor. Harold could only do as he had dreamt of, do as he’d wished, do what he thought would be impossible all night and every night before or since you met, since he and Bob became fused to this spot.

He reached out for you. 

“Lone?” the bark above his eyes seemed to crease with worry, as he noted the scrapes on your soft skin. 

“Harold, how did you…?” Your voice was a squeak, partly from pain, and partly from the disbelief that strained your throat. “Hon, you moved. You're moving now, it’s… this is incredible!”

You sprung up as he helped you, crashing your body to his in a hug that he returned. 

If it were possible, Harold knew he would’ve wept at the way he could hold you now. 

“Lone, are you alright?” 

“Better.” You smiled at him, that glowing smile that held the stars, and Harold couldn’t help himself. 

This new discovery of his, who knew how fleeting it would be? While he had it, he was going to take advantage of it. 

He scooped you up into his hold, easing you close to his face again, and pulled you near enough to kiss. 

It would’ve been a fool’s hope, he knew, to wish to move his face, his mouth, more than he already could, but he wished for that too, nonetheless. 

What's the harm in wishing, really?

Your hands went back to his face, and in the peace of the night, in the stillness, he could feel your breath, hear your soft sighs, he could even… could he taste you? Cool spring water and edible flowers, the juice of a mutfruit, and… a tinge of him, of Bob, that brash oakiness and sweet syrup. 

To taste a bit of his likeness on you was a pleasure Harold wouldn’t soon forget. 

A gasp released from the both of you, as your hips began to… move. Harold had seen this likeness before, in dances, in strange rituals, in… perhaps in another life, but to feel you on him, your heat grinding into his large, bark-gloved hand as your lips stayed locked to his, it lit that boiling feeling in his belly until he feared he really would go up in flames. 

Harold blinked open his eyes, slowly, reluctantly, to plead with you to carry on, to ask what you wanted from him, to beg to give it to you, anything and everything he was, he’d give to you, because without you, well… You both already knew where he’d be. 

Then his gaze caught the undesirable stirring of the man on the ground at his feet–roots. 

Birch was groaning, still only half conscious from the force that’d been on his windpipe, but his eyes were slowly blinking open. 

“Harold.” You pulled his attention back easily. “Don’t even look at him, okay? Birch doesn’t matter. All those people out there, who treat you like nothing more than an extension of Bob? They don’t matter either, okay?” 

The grip of his hand tightened over your backside, keeping you pressed firmly to his front. 

“It’s just you and me now.” 

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 30: blindfolded / obsession / gift

Day 30 for @augustofwhump.

Life has decided to be hectic but I'm so close to the end, so we're going to free style it on the order and post them as soon as their ready.

Day 29 comes tomorrow hopefully.

Back to Caged Founder, but not for the last time this month.

follows on sometime after resigned obedience

Tristan has a gift that forces Elijah to think of his place.

----

Elijah had been enjoying a peaceful if boring evening in his office until a presents had slipped in and settled behind his chair.

“What are you working on now?” Tristan asked as he leaned over his shoulder, he had been watching Elijah write for several moments now but he seemed to reach his patience end.

“Food banks.” Elijah answered without looking up he wanted to finish his newest proposal before giving Tristan the attention he desired, he was still annoyed by Tristan and Aya taking over his plans for Mystic Falls.

Really?” Tristan snorted.

“Yes.” he replied curtly as he reached his conclusion of his piece, “some of us remember growing up hungry; we can't all have servants.”

“I hunted.” Tristan huffed. “Besides with your father, Finn, you and your younger brothers’ you can’t have gone hungry much.”

“Father’s rules, from the moment he started taking us hunting we only ate what we took part in catching.” he explained, during the summer only, in the winter they had shared what they had collected but father had never had an issue with reducing their share if they had disappointed him.

“He started that for your brother.” Tristan mused likely meaning Niklaus, normally he wouldn’t have been wrong most of Father’s stricter rules had been started to spite Klaus but not this one.

“Me actually,” Elijah confessed as he placed the pen down, he had hesitated twice in front of father, not wanting to kill the deer in his sight, the bruised father had dealt him took weeks to fade. He had learned to stop hesitating when Father started using the same rules for Niklaus and Kol, Elijah was always the better aim and he couldn’t face letting his little brothers go hungry.

“So what can you do for you this evening, My dear lord Martel?” he asked, twisting enough to see as Tristan failed to hide his reaction at the address, his open smile widened into a true smirk at the sight and the annoyed-embarrassed glare Tristan sent him as he noticed.

“Close your eyes." He's told a moment before one of Tristan’s hands covered his eyes for him, he sighed and allowed Tristan to do as he wanted, apparently just to lift the hand he had been writing with and slip a ring onto his index finger.

After a few seconds of darkness the hand was removed to allow him to see.

“What is this?” he asked, flexing his hand, the ring looked simple enough, nice but not the over ostentatious Tristan usually gifted him and Aurora, Aurora liked the style Elijah preferred the simpler kind which this was.

A neat dark silver band with some kind of inlay, and an enchantment lain on it was well. 

“White oak ash set in viking steel.”

“What?” he choked wordless at the implications, Tristan would use something as rare as white oak ash, one of the few things able to harm him or his siblings. 

“It’s protection.” Tristan explained, “as long as you wear that the daggers are just that, daggers, no more threat to you than a normal one.”

“Why?” he questioned in clear disbelief.

“Even if you leave me I have no desire to see you laid low by your brother.”

“I could run to him and no longer fear being daggered, you're giving me an escape.” he explained in confusion this- this was out of character, Tristan was possessive and controlling, he'd never-

Tristan’s claims of wanting them to be equal repeated themselves in Elijah's head, for once he wasn't able to shake them off as easily, proclamations of desire and ideas of love were just words, easy lies.

This was solid evidence.

This was beyond the obsession he had cultivated to grow to ensure his own ease of life.

“You’d still need to find a way to take it but yes. It’s no longer a choice between a prison here and a box there.” Tristan echoed what Elijah had once voiced in one of his darkest moments, lost in despair and searching for a way to the emptiness of it. 

Before Tristan had started pulling him from the cell to spend days in the centre of the closest city, wasting his time simply sitting with Elijah as he watched the humans live their lives. Reminding him time moved on around him, that the world still continued and he was a part of it.

“It’s a choice between us, the strix and all the good you can do here and him, managing his temper.” Tristan added with a smirk when Elijah was quiet for too long.

Yes, he had noticed that, he frowned at the smug face, because even if he calmed Klaus and explained to him he hadn’t betrayed him, he would be stuck with him, still helpless against anyone from his sire line and without the power and resources of the Strix to continue his projects, like the food banks.

Even Tristan’s romantic gestures were a move in a chess game, Elijah pulled Tristan’s tie, Tristan allowed it as he followed before it could force him.

It wasn’t like Elijah couldn't also play like that.

[ofassuredrisk]

@timtestsdontscareme

The man in charge, the man that followed rules. One after the other, a good head on his shoulders. Tim once said to himself the only one  you can count on is yourself. He knew what it was like to be let down; to not be chosen. His family  wasn’t the picture  perfect, he had his sister, his  father was a man he never wanted to know again. He was a man of action, he put each one of his rookies through hoops and hoops. Angela thought he was nuts; that he was deemed to be a tad crazy. And this is why he always found himself riding the shop on his own. No Rookie had been tough enough to ride out his great Tim tests. 

That was until Lucy Chen was given the shot. She wasn’t afraid to call me out or to show me up. Her very first day I hated to admit but I was impressed. She stood her own ground, she passed each test as if it was second nature to her. Sometimes I felt like she read my mind; our banter tended to balance on its own. Tim was a hard ball never admit when his partner was right; never liked the idea that he might remotely care about her. It all occurred in moments. A moment of care when I put myself on the line I’d rather be the one to be hurt over her. The memory of that house, locked bedroom as I exposed myself to the Virus, I knew what I was doing when I closed the door on Lucy her  shouts of reassurance of asking if I was okay filled my ears. Holding my  breath as I tried to calm the bystander down, the virus was contented in this room. Safe from the world; and I was someone who constantly jumped into the line of fire, it’s who I was. Obviously or I wouldn’t be the cop that I was. Tim was selfless at times, that was only one of the many rare occurrences that he did show up for his partners. 

This time around it was a gun worn down to his head. He flinched at last minute. He remembered trailing the guy down; weapon in hand. Feet molded against the dry pavement. I spoke into my radio, I knew Chen was on the other end, I told her cross over to the other edge; that this ally was a circle. And fingers gripped against the trigger preparing myself as I came to a pause outside the ally, aim at the target; Liam was his name, I remembered the file Angela had clued me in on when we hunted down this guy. “ Lower your weapon.” I shouted the memory clear as day to me. I was about to lower mine when his fingers flinched against his gun; I heard Lucy, she was just arriving attempting to cover her pending breathes. It all happened fast; I saw it; I saw his fingers pressing against the trigger I had this ache in my chest believing Lucy was about to get shot, and I ran like a speed of light. I ran to jump in front and I heard the gun shot, and ultimately yhe bullet pressed against my chest. 

Caught in the line of duty. I cared, I liked to play a game of hard ball but I’d jump in line each time to protect her. Eyes slowly  came to open now as the memories of flashes flickered through my mind. The accident. Eyes adjusted to the light, a loud huff escaped my lips one from being in the hospital again. And from the ached that formed on his abdominal from the bullet that was freshly removed. A groan heard as he tried to bite down on his lower lip, eyes finding its way to a sleeping Lucy tucked into the chair, her legs folded under her frame as her elbow kept her head up. Had she stayed all night? 

Brows pushed together; as his  hues lingered almost fixated. He told himself he’d let her rest; he knew Lucy she was feeling the weight of this case of my shooting, she probably hadn’t slept in hours..

[skkfujoshi]

Oh Lord,oh Lord,I’m begging you please,don’t take this sinner from me

“…wake up.Chuuya,wake up.” “Elise,he’s been out for two weeks.I don’t think you can force it.” “Shut up,Dazai.” “Both of you shut it.”Chuuya grumbled shutting his eyes even tighter

He relented after a few moments,only to be hit by a bright light and assaulted by a hug from Elise,her arms like a vice around his neck.

“‘Lise!’Lise,you’re choking me!” “Good,you deserve it,you idiot!What were you thinking sneaking off like that!?I had to spend the whole day with this moron looking for you and then I got shot!”she said,squeezing even tighter

Chuuya coughed as he hugged her back,laughing despite the discomfort.It was nice to be home,even if it was mildly painful.

Speaking of…

“Where’s dad?” “Unfortunately,your father’s been very busy,short stack.”Dazai said,fiddling with his bandages”Putting stitches on my head,setting my nose back into place,trying to snuff out whatever splinters of that little cult are left,making me do pages upon pages of reports on the whole incident…The works.”

Chuuya sighed,rubbing his neck 

“He’s pissed isn’t he?” “You can’t really blame him,Chuuya.He was worried sick.”Elise scolded  “Yeah,I’ve never seen Mori so frazzled.”Dazai confirmed  “Damn…I’m gonna be punished for life…”

Elise smiled coyly,shrugging her shoulders.

“Not necessarily.” “Hmm?” “Dazai mentioned you used corruption to solve the problem and…” “And?” “Rintarou said he was very proud of you for finally getting the hang of  it.”

Chuuya perked up.

“He did?”

The little girl nodded emphatically.

“Yup.Besides,he’ll probably be relieved to hear you finally woke up.So your punishment probably won’t even be that bad.Speaking of,I’ll go tell him the good news.” “Wait!You’re just gonna leave me with this guy!?”him and Dazai exclaimed in unison “Just do a headlock or whatever it is boys do to show affection.”she said over her shoulder,shutting the infirmary door

Chuuya sighed,rubbing his forehead,sinking back into the pillow.

They sat in silence for a few moments.Chuuya cleared his throat.

“So…Anything else happen during those two weeks aside from you doing more week then than you ever have in your entire life?” “Well,Herbert and Doyle have gone back to America.The boss offered them a job,but they declined.” “Did they take Milton with them?There has to be some prison they can throw him into on the way there.I heard Mersault is pretty great.It should be on the way.”

Dazai blinked at him,uncovered eye widening.

“Chuuya…You killed him while you were using corruption.Don’t you remember?" “…I told you,Dazai.I don’t remember anything when I use it.Not then and not now.”

Chuuya ran his hand trough his hair with a sigh,before running his hand over his face.

“Fuck…” “Look,Chuuya,you-“ “Don’t.You don’t have to.”Chuuya muttered

He squinted at the ceiling,unwilling to look at Dazai’s pitying expression.Crying in front of him after they killed Randou was clearly a mistake.

“I’m fine,just…I guess I just think it’s a shame is all.” “A shame?” “Did Herbert tell you that-“ “He was Milton’s father?Yes.” “Good.Milton told me while I was affected…I just don’t understand how family could come to hate one another that much.”

Chuuya scratched his neck.

“And now I’ll never know why or how.Or if…”

He shook his head,sitting up again.

“Forget it.”

It was worth saying,an important enough concern…But he hesitated to say it to Dazai.Even though the other boy saved his life,he was still a conniving bastard.

And even if he wasn’t…Chuuya didn’t want to really hear the answer.

Was it possible that,under certain,very specific circumstances him and his father could also come to hate one another?And if such circumstances did exist what were they?

And could they be avoided?

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that.”

-

“What?” “About your father.”

Chuuya scowled.

“I wasn’t-“ “Of course you weren’t…”Dazai muttered

He sat onto Chuuya’s bed,taking his shoes off before Chuuya could complain about his ‘bad manners’.

“Relax mutt.”he said,putting his feet up”My point is…”

He licked at his lips,before he scoffed.He lied plenty of times,this really shouldn’t be any different.

“I don’t think those two ever really got the chance to love eachother,the way you and Mori did.Hardly comparable at all.”

Chuuya blinked at him,then chuckled,a small smile forming on his face as he moved to look at his hands.

“Guess I got pretty lucky in the whole dad department,didn’t I?”

Dazai scratched at the bandages around his neck.

“Guess you did,chibi.” “Don’t call me that.”

A few silent moments passed before Chuuya asked:”Dazai can I ask you a question?”

“Kinda already doing that aren’t you? “Whatever,just…Consider humoring me,alright?”

Dazai rolled his eyes,but gestured for him to go on.

“It’s a bit…vain,I guess,but…When I used corruption I didn’t turn into some giant monster,right?”Chuuya asked,ending off with a nervous laugh

Dazai leaned back into the bed,humming in thought.

“You were…”

What could he say?What should he say?That Chuuya was so stunning in his power,so much larger than life that it made Dazai consider that maybe there was something bigger than the mundane miseries of it?

Yeah,that wasn’t an option,unless he wanted to utterly embarrass himself.

“Yes?”Chuuya asked,leaning closer

Dazai cursed at him internally for it,mostly because it utterly derailed his train of thought.

“You were…Amazing.I’ve never seen anything like it.”

-

Chuuya blinked,leaning away.He stared at Dazai’s face intently,looking for any sort of deceit.

But Dazai didn’t flinch, his own gaze intense and surprisingly…present.

Often Dazai’s eyes were just a flat plane of nothing.If some people had resting bitch face,Dazai had resting corpse face.

Often he’d just stare blankly but now there was actually light there.

Not a lot of it,granted,but it was more than Chuuya would’ve ever expected,which must’ve meant that…For once,at the very least,he was being genuine.

Chuuya looked away,embarrassed.

Absentmindedly he scratched at his cheek.Was it really that warm?Fuck.

He heard Dazai clear his throat,the bed squeaking as he jumped off the bed.

“Well,I’ll leave you to rest.I would hate for you to get cranky” “Wait,before you leave…Just one more thing.”

Chuuya sighed,turning to look at his partner who was standing at the door,brow raised.

“Yeah?” “…Thank you for snapping me out of it,Osamu.”

The name rolled off his tongue unexpectedly,though strangely it didn’t feel tacked on.He hadn’t planned to add it,but somehow it just flowed naturally along with the rest of his words.

Dazai’s eyes widened,Chuuya thinking he even spotted a blotch of pink on his cheeks.Dazai grinned,putting his arms behind his head.

“Hey,what are partners for?”

First overall AU info post

Previous fic part <— Next fic part —>

[ladylooch]

Does liv act any different after she ends the call with Luca ?

And Luca, will you know hit Ryder a little harder next time they're on the ice together ?

The coolness of Luca’s Wild shirt covers my back and shoulders as I pull it on. It’s a synthetic, work out type material that temporarily feels nice against my skin. Then the extra fabric begins to build sweat between my shoulder blades. I’d take this discomfort over my boyfriend calling me out for being… flirty with another man in front of him. 

How could I have been so blind to how we looked together? I’m so embarrassed. Luca took it in stride, even ending the call by suggesting a sexy FaceTime later. I’m so lucky to have him. I stare at the closed door of my bedroom. On the other side is Ryder in my kitchen… baking banana bread… shirtless. Fuck. I shove my face into my pillow, letting out a frustrated yelp. I feel bad about kicking him out. It’s not like we did something wrong, or that he overstepped. That doesn’t seem fair and I don’t want Ryder to think Luca told me he had to go, especially when Luca has been so chill and understanding. 

I open the door, tip toeing out to the kitchen. Ryder is leaning against the counter, phone in his hand, scrolling for a new song. His shirt is back on. He looks up at me and gives a shy smile.

“Everything good?”

“Um yeah.” I nod, biting a corner of my lip nervously. “Definitely good. How is the bread looking?”

“I have no idea.” He is sheepish. “I tried to look again, but it doesn’t look quite burnt enough?” I laugh, going to the oven door and opening it up. Warmth washes over my face, making me stick my tongue out at the added heat to an already hot apartment. They need to fix this heating issue ASAP or I’m going to go sleep at Lio’s tonight. Ryder comes closer. My cheeks start to turn pink as his shoulder brushes mine when he looks in too. 

“Not done yet.” I confirm, shutting the door quickly.

“The cocktail is done if you are ready to try it?”

“Yeah!” I nod enthusiastically, a little too enthusiastic to over compensate for the awkwardness I feel. He hands me a glass with ice cubes, pink liquid, and a salted rim. Tequila slaps my pallet on the first sip, then bright citrus and a good, balanced sweetness coats my mouth to finish. “Oh….” I murmur, then trail off. “Very good.”

“Thank you. I think in another life I could have been a great mixologist.” 

“If you weren’t a Hughes kid?” Ryder’s eyes cloud over a bit in resentment. Not much of his life wasn't chosen for him by his family lineage.

“Yeah… well you know.”

“Lio probably more than me, but yeah.”

“I’m glad we have reconnected as adults. We had fun when we were kids.” I barely remember those days. So much has happened since we lived in New Jersey and our fathers played together in the NHL. Most of my childhood memories revolve around Switzerland.

“Yeah, I’m glad we have become friends.” I answer honestly, looking down at the top of my drink.

“Are you… sure everything is good? I can leave if…” He trails off.

“No. Everything is great. I just. Um. You know I really value our friendship.” I purse my lips afterwards, meeting his gaze head on. He stares back at me for a moment. The understanding is clear in his eyes as he nods. We are friends. That is it.

“Yeah. Me too, Livy. You’re kinda becoming my best friend here. I wouldn’t jeopardize that.” I nod in response. “I, uh, should probably head out to grab our food. Do you need anything else?” I take another long sip of my drink.

“Maybe some air conditioning?” I joke.

“Yeah, this is rough. If you need to, you can come stay at my place tonight. I'll sleep on the couch."

“Oh, thanks. But, Lio said I could go to his place.”

“Oh perfect. That’s closer for class tomorrow.”

“Mhm.” I nod as he puts his shoes back on by the door.

“I’ll be back.” He steps out of the apartment.

The door clicks softly shut behind him. I tap my phone screen to check the time, seeing the lock screen of Luca and I laughing into our kiss this past summer. I miss him so much my chest feels like it cracks open down my sternum. 

6 more days… then I’ll be in his arms again.

[thislovintime]

Peter Tork, on his own, with his mother (in Washington, D.C.) in 1943, and with his brother Nick and their father during their time in Berlin in 1947.

“My childhood was pleasant. My parents are tickled now about my success, but my younger sister thinks more of me as a Monkee than she does of me as a brother. I remember a couple of times when my father vented his emotions on me because of circumstances. He didn’t mean it the way it sounded to me then. If I had never realized this, it could have left me with a traumatic wound for the rest of my life. Like the time when I was minding my little sister and she went off without my knowing it because I was reading comic books. When he discovered she was missing he yelled at me but later I realized that he did it because he was so worried about her absence. Or the time he shouted, ‘Be calm!’ at me and brought his fist down on the table with such force that I trembled all over. I am told that once — I was too young to remember — I was climbing up on the phonograph and he shouted at me just before the lid of the phonograph struck my head. For many years I couldn’t go under anything that had a lid on it without lifting my arm and holding it there to make sure the lid wouldn’t fall down.” - Peter Tork, Seventeen, August 1967

“[M]y parents were together all my life and I had to put myself through an incredible school of hard knocks before I came to any sense of self-worth. I'm still coming to grips with the feeling that there is support for me in the outside world. I'm still relating on a day-by-day basis with my own loneliness and isolation. I've had some bleak moments, of course, and I'll continue to have them, but I trust that if I stay in contact with my source, that my bleakest moments will be a prelude and a vehicle to other times.” - Peter Tork, When The Music Mattered (1984)

“Tork said he argued continually with his cold, unemotional father, came from a dysfunctional family, and drank to drown his loneliness, sorrow, and feelings of being left out and different.” - San Jose Mercury, 1996

“Every time I thought I did something good, my father said, ‘Don’t break your arm patting yourself on the back.’ [...] Twice I‘ve seen colors. Once I was so totally in love that everything was pink; I mean, rosy, like that dusty pink that is the rose color. I swear to God, rose-colored glasses, man. It was, I swear to God, it was as if a pair of rose-colored glasses had been implanted in my eyes. Everything had this hue, and it was just, you feel, ‘Okay!’ And then once, I came downstairs, and my parents had had a lot to drink the night before, and the air was black. And incidentally, on our [Shoe Suede Blues] last CD, Saved By The Blues, is the song ‘Saved By The Blues,’ which contains all this stuff. A friend of mine, I’d been, I’d just talked to a friend of mine the way I’m talking to you, and he went home and wrote a song, and called it ‘Saved By The Blues.’” - Peter Tork, Music Groups interview, 2007

“There never was a time I couldn’t drink. My parents let me drink wine if I wanted with dinner, or a sip of cocktails or a bit of beer, nobody ever cared, and I never got too deeply into it when I was young. But it’s pretty clear that everybody’s... that alcoholics have a curve to their disease, to their syndrome, that is basically not affected by life or by anything else, just it’s genetic, it’s in their bones. And I guess my curve hadn’t taken over me, it didn’t... I didn’t even notice I was in trouble until my late thirties. One or two friends of mine knew I was in trouble before that, but not many. [It appears there’s a genetic history] My father died at 86, you know. It’s hard to say that he died of alcoholism, because alcoholics at best die in their sixties, or early sixties, you know, most alcoholics who can survive, who don’t die of anything else, who just die of the organic damage alcohol does to them, die in their sixties. So it’s hard to say, you know. But I think the best teller of the disease; well, there’s two good tells, I think. One of them is: do you drink when it’s against your better interest to do so, and when the information is there that lets you know that it is. And the other is: personality changes, you know. And I used to see my father with personality changes. My mom drank like a fish, but she may not have been an alcoholic, it’s hard to know. But almost certainly my father was. And that’s the only genetic information I have.” - Peter Tork, Take 12 Recovery Radio, (late?) 2000s or early 2010s

“I firmly believe that a low self-esteem did not make me into an alcoholic. It’s far likelier that I was born a pre-packaged dry alcoholic, and was just waiting to develop into a full-blown sopping wet alcoholic; low self-esteem was probably a function of my alcoholism, rather than the other way around. Similarly, it wasn’t reversing my low self-esteem that enabled me to get into recovery. I began my recovery after seeing with the starkest clarity that I was well and properly crushed by the alcoholism. It was in recovery that I began to gain any self-esteem I have now. In other words, I didn’t think my way into well-being, I began to learn how to behave well and then began good thinking (better thinking, anyway,  heheheh).” - Peter Tork, Ask Peter Tork, 2008

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 55

Gif by @ashley-jones

Taglist: @stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon

Tw: implied offscreen murder and sexual assault of children(a.k.a blood and cheese)

She is too nervous about this.

There are giggles, touches she initiates and the moment the door locks, Aemma changes into a riding habit she had made a month ago, it is snug over her belly, but it fits and that is all that matters.

“Fly to Stokeworth, they are loyal to your mother.” Aemond orders as he leads her down the same path she had taken weeks before. “The distance here will not be too taxing for you and allows you a respite for your travels.”

He is a worrywart, always has been. During the progress he was always hovering over her fearing the worst and now Aemond fears she might hurt herself if she flies directly to Dragonstone.

A ship takes roughly three to five days to get there, a dragon ride was about half a day and a heavily pregnant woman who’s been confined to a bed will not be able to handle a direct flight of six hours.

“I’m not an idiot.” She said as she followed behind him. He had put himself ahead of her, in case they find someone in here, but the ratcatchers won’t care and if they do, Aemma will be gone by the time they find someone to tell. “I will fly to Stokeworth, then to Duskendale and then to Spicetown. I’ve made this flight a dozen times, Aemond.”

“Take my hand.” Not a suggestion, but a command which she protests.

“I need to know where you are, I cannot see well, remember.” He reminded her and she conceded.

His hand is clammy, they always are when he is nervous. She used to tease him about it when they were little and still did until now.

“You’re scared.” She points out and fought the urge to tell him everything would be fine.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he throws back as he hands her his dagger unprompted. “One or all of us could die tonight.”

“We won’t die, I promise you.” She said taking his dagger and noticed she hasn’t recoiled from the disgust.

She hadn’t that morning either when he almost tried waking her up with a kiss. She had almost wished to have let him take a few more liberties with her, pregnancy didn’t mix well with separation.

The path had yet to be cleared completely, but it was wide enough for them to walk side by side. He still holding her hand and she no longer trying to slap it away.

“I know you hate me and think me a craven, but I cannot lose you.”  He turns and she can see it in his eye that he is putting her above his family, and she wished this moment had not come so late.

“I don’t hate you.” Aemma said quietly, as if it were a secret he was not to know. “I have tried, but I just, I just can’t.”

To hate you, I’d have to cut out my heart. She wished she could tell him the agony he has caused her. Unable to rid herself of her stupid and weak womanly heart who loves him even after what he did.

“I killed your brother, I broke my promise to you and our son, it goes against reason.” He points out, as if she didn’t know that.

“Love, the greatest gift the gods gave us.” She said sarcastically and Aemond still looks at her as if she lost her mind. “I want to hate you, I cannot forgive you, but somehow I cannot find in my weak womanly heart to hate you.”

“You’re not weak, don’t sell yourself short, Aemee.” He says and for a moment it’s as if nothing had changed between them.

“I know my limitations, Almond.” Aemma used that old nickname that usually annoys him. He hates almonds and hates it that one time his father wrote almond instead of Aemond on a letter.

“If you were weak, you would have married Stark as your mother wanted instead of going against her and marrying me.” He reminds her.

“If I had been strong, I would have taken matters in my own hands and stopped this fucking war by before it even started. Instead, I let the adults order me around like a puppet.” If only she hadn’t listened to her grandparents and Teora, if only she had told Aegon and her mother none of this would have happened.

All the deaths, all the hurts, all that senseless destruction is her fault for being a weak little girl.

“We cannot stop fate, Aemee. We can just ---” he stops abruptly when they finally get into the hidden doors in the saddle room.

The dragons are frantic, Dreamfyre who is as passive and meek as Silverwing is roaring bloody murder and the twins’ hatchlings are not faring any better.

“Something is wrong.” She whispered and she knew her worry was mirrored on his face even if he refused to stop trying to get her into her saddle.

Morghul, Jaehaera’s dragon, shrieks as if it were being murdered and his mother snapped and bit at the dragonkeepers who tried their best to see to the hatchling.

His sister, Shrykos, keeps them away from him and their mother as if defending them from this unseen assaulter.

“We need to turn back; your sister needs us.” Aemma tugs him back and for a second, he thinks of listening to her. “Jaehaera is in danger, your niece needs you!”

“Aemond.” She pleads with him, and both come to a stop. A part of her knows that this is her only chance to escape.

But she would gladly give it up for Helaena and her children.

“If we turn back, you will be the one in danger.” Her husband holds her by the shoulders and then took her face in his hands when Aemma still urged him to forget her and run to his family’s rescue. “I cannot lose you.”

Aemma could lie and tell him he won’t, that his family won’t kill her or hurt their son, but both know the truth. The moment the baby is born she is dead.

“The moment I know you are away from this place, I will make sure they are safe, I promise you.” He tries to convince her that they are doing the right thing to ignore the cries for help the hatchlings make.

Morghul grows quiet and yet continued giving pained cries, but then Shrykos lets out a shriek so awful before she falls dead.

“Jaehaerys.” Aemma clings to Aemond and begs him to turn back. “Someone’s killed him, Aemond, please, Helaena needs us.”

Someone had hurt and killed the King’s children, someone who wanted revenge. Just the notion that someone would harm an innocent child makes her sick to her stomach.

Her mother wouldn’t do this, no, mother genuinely cared for Helaena and would never hurt a child.

But then there was the man who killed his own wife and Aemma’s own father.

Could Daemon be so cruel as to order innocent children to be killed?

“Henujagon.” He orders the moment he’s finished securing the chains on her saddle. “Sōvegon.”

Leave. Fly.

And her dragon, takes his orders as if they had come from her.

[marvelmaniac715]

This fic is simply called “The Bedtime Story”. I hope you enjoy.

————————————————————-

“What? Oh, a story. Yeah, I can do that, no problem. What story though… I could do Peter Pan… no, way too long, we’re both tired and it’s late. I’m not doing some sappy fairytale crap, that stuff pollutes your mind y’know. What story could I… oh, I know! Okay, I think we can start now, so…

Once upon a time, there was a little boy called Charles Lee Ray. From the moment he was born it was clear that he wasn’t like the other kids. For instance, he was a lot more interesting, intelligent and (in my personal opinion) good looking than the other little brats who went around picking their noses or whatever.

Until he was seven years old he lived with dull, boring parents who refused to let him have any fun. On his seventh birthday he tried to whack a piñata, but people got scared for some reason and poor Charles got told off despite the fact it was his birthday. His saving grace came one night when a serial killer (the Hackensack Slasher to be precise) broke into his house and killed his father. 

Charles’ mother decided that it would be a smart idea to hide in a closet and make unnecessary noise, smothering the boy in the process. But little Charles- god this is weird for me- Charles had snuck a pocket knife into the closet, and when the moment was just right, he stabbed his mother till she fell down dead. A few moments later, the Hackensack Slasher found him and showed him the proper way to clean a knife to cover your tracks, and that’s where it all began.

Charles grew up a bit, and when he was a teenager staying in a Boy’s Home he killed a janitor and chopped off his hand like Captain Hook in Peter Pan. That’s when he met Eddie Caputo, a spineless little rat who would turn on him in the future, that asshole got what was coming to him. But anyway, he ran from the Boy’s Home and lived on the streets for a few years, strangling people and stealing their stuff to pass the time and make money.

As an adult, he’d stalk nightclubs to find girls to kill- it’s always fun to interact with the victims and build a sense of false trust before you see the fear and betrayal in their eyes as you stab them in the stomach- and that’s where he met Tiffany. At first he’d wanted to kill her, but when he tried he realised that she was a lot like him, they had the same interests, that sorta stuff. So they killed the other girl he’d brought to the room together and began dating.

Charles (now Chucky, but that’s not really important) and Tiffany (now blonde, hard to believe she was ever a redhead) moved into an apartment together, and they were happy for a while. But Chucky- still so weird, why did I decide to do this?- wasn’t happy. He fell in love with a woman named Sarah Pierce who had a little girl who was about two or three years old, can’t remember.

He thought Sarah was his true love as stupid as it seems, he wanted to start a family with her and raise her kids as his own. But she betrayed him, called the cops and caused Charles to get gunned down in a toy store with Eddie Caputo nowhere to be seen despite the traitor being his get-away driver.

Chucky put his soul into a Good Guy doll because he practiced (and still practice to this day sort of) voodoo, and that meant he wouldn’t die. He ended up with some kid called Andy Barclay who was honestly one of the worst behaved little brats in the world, and after a few years of torment he met up with Tiffany again. Tiffany became a doll, they got married, all that fun stuff. The next time Chucky woke up he was in Hollywood and found out that he and Tiffany had a six year old son called Glen, and that’s pretty much it, the end. What did you think, good story?”

Glen shook his head fearfully. The little doll trembled in his bed, looking at his father with wide, scared eyes. He’d asked for a bedtime story because in the few instances he’d seen the outside world from his cage in England, he knew that bedtime stories were a good bonding activity between parents and children, and he wanted to be closer to his father. He wasn’t expecting that. Chucky’s face fell, and he sighed heavily, getting to his feet and turning to leave the room.

“How the hell are you my son? It just doesn’t make sense- ugh, this was a waste of time. Goodnight kid.”

Unsettled and disturbed by these revelations about his father, Glen fell asleep.

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2023

Day 03 - Family

The sun was already setting and painted the sky so many shades of yellow, gold and orange that you almost couldn’t tell anymore were the desert dunes stopped and the sky started. It turned the Forgotten Springs into quite a stunning view only rivalled by a clear night sky full of stars.

But the strange little Miqo'te child that was sitting by the Aetheryte didn’t seem to have an eye for it. U'laqa wondered if maybe he came from an even more beautiful place than the oasis and if that was the reason he seemed so indifferent.

His mother and a few other hunters had brought him back home earlier that day when they returned from their trip to the desert. They all had looked rather serious when they came back, some of them even sad, and U'laqa’s mother had carried that little boy on her arms. Even then he did have that same strange expression, like he wasn’t looking at anything at all.

U'laqa, always the most curious one of his siblings, had immediately run to his mother and asked: “Who is that, mommy?”

She had put the little boy down at the steps of the Aetheryte and shooed her son away.

“Come with me, Laqa. Leave him be for now. He needs some rest first.”

Then she had taken her son’s hand and had walked with him towards their house. But U'laqa‘s curiosity was too great, so he asked: “Where did he come from, mommy?”

She had ruffled his bright blonde hair and put on a thoughtful face.

“I don’t know, sweetie. We found him in the desert but I think he’s from somewhere far away. I will go and talk to your father about him. I think it’s best if the poor boy stays with us, because he doesn’t have a family anymore. You go and play with your siblings a little more.”

U'laqa had done as she said and played with his little siblings, although most of them were not much fun to play with. He wondered if the boy by the Aetheryte was more fun to play with but his mother had said to leave him alone. But if his father allowed him to live with them he would kind of be like one of his siblings, wouldn’t he? So was he really disobeying his mother when he went to talk to him now? She had said that he needed to rest but he wasn’t even resting, he just sat there and did nothing. He had to be horribly bored.

Slowly he sneaked closer to the child always looking if somebody was watching, until he stood right in front of him. To U'laqa’s disappointment he didn’t seem to notice him at all. He slowly blinked every now and then but without that U'laqa would have thought the boy was sleeping.

He reminded U'laqa of one of the toys his father had brought home from one of his visits to Ul'dah. The boy looked just like that tiny mechanical mammet when you forgot to rewind it, shoulders and arms sacked down, head tilted to the floor and his eyes entirely unfocused.

But he also looked like a real boy and not like a mammet, U'laqa thought. He examined him from different angles and then crouched down to get a better look of his face.

The boy was about his age and had tangled red hair with some orange streaks that almost reached his shoulders. There were freckles around his nose and he had eyes with such a vivid green color U'laqa had never seen before in his life. Did real people have eyes as pretty as that? Maybe he was a mammet after all?

U'laqa stretched out a hand and waved it in front of the boy’s face looking for a reaction.

“Hello? Can you hear me?…Hellooo?”

The boy blinked. Once, then twice and then looked up very slowly.

“Hey you!”, U'laqa exclaimed happily but the other child just stared at him with wide fearful eyes, as if he just noticed him now. Then U'laqa remembered what his mother had told him.

“My mom said you are from far away and don’t have a family anymore. Is that true?”

The red haired boy kept staring at him for a moment, then he just nodded wordlessly. He looked kind of sad.

“Sorry about that…”

U'laqa imagined what it would be like not to have a family and found that it sounded really lonely. Then he had an idea.

“Well, but you are here now! And mommy said that maybe you can stay! So I can be your family now! What do you think?”

For a moment the other child sceptically glanced around the place and then at U'laqa, but finally just shrugged.

U'laqa took that as a yes.

“Hooray! Soooo… what’s your name?”

Barely audible the child whispered: “A'viloh…”

“A'viloh? Okay, nice…” he thought for a moment and then added: “but I think I’m just gonna call you A'vi. That’s shorter and after all we’re family now, right?”

A'viloh shrugged absently yet another time and once again U'laqa interpreted it the way he wanted to.

“Great!”

He beamed and threw his arms around A'viloh in a tight hug. Once he let go of him he added: “I’m Laqa by the way and I’m soooo happy you’re here!”

And just like that a tiny smile crept across the sad boy’s face.