Colored sketch portrait for NRool on FA!
Colored sketch portrait for NRool on FA!
Red X is for posted, white X is for requested.
Honor bound - 35 (claustrophobia) - @badthingshappenbingo - requested by anon
Ellis blinked awake. They could smell something, something like cedar musk and shampoo and something else. They rolled to one side, hand reaching out for their husband. He smelled so good. Their fingers brushed warm skin, soft clothing. They smiled gently and cuddled closer to his warmth.
They gasped. Their eyes focused on the face lying on the pillow next to them, hazel eyes and dark hair and a bruise staining their left temple and cheek. Finn. They swallowed the tears that burned their throat, their stomach clenching hard. They tried their best to smile as the wisps of their husband disappeared into their mind.
“Good morning.” They reached out and gently touched the bruise on Finn’s face. “How do you feel?"
"Ugh. Groggy.” Finn tried to push themselves up off the bed and collapsed in a yelp of pain.
“Hey, hey.” Ellis grabbed Finn’s wrists, pulling their hands off the mattress. “Careful.” Their left hand was swollen, bruised from their wrist to their knuckles. The right wasn’t so bad off: bruised, but not as swollen. They helped Finn sit up as they cradled their hands in their lap.
“Look who’s finally awake.” Sam’s face was pale and drawn with pain, but a playful smile tugged at the corner of their mouth. It’s so good to see that again.
Sunlight from the window lit the room, illuminating the walls and the mattresses on the floor. Sam was sitting up on their bed, leg on a pillow, leaned back against their hands as they watched Ellis. Isaac lay on his side, eyes half closed, unfocused.
Red X is for posted, white X is for requested.
Cw: relatively graphic bloody deaths, description of past torture
Isaac woke to a knock at the door. He stirred, confused. Was Tori expecting anyone else? He sat up painfully from his bed. His team slept peacefully around him, unbothered by the knock. I guess I should go answer.
He made his way to the door, swaying unsteadily. As his hand closed around the doorknob, he felt a chill down his spine like someone was watching him. He turned to look back into the house. The rooms were all dark. Nothing moved. He shrugged and pulled the door open.
Gavin stood in the doorway with a grin on his face. He raised a gun and fired. The bullet punched through Isaac’s shoulder. The pain took his breath away as he stumbled back, hand pressing to the wound as blood poured hot through his fingers. Gavin pushed back him into the house.
You’re never fully dressed without one~
EDIT: I had to reupload, I accidentally crossed off a chapter I have written, but not posted!
Red X is for posted, white X is for requested.
Honor bound - 32 (this is for your own good) - @badthingshappenbingo - requested by anon
Sam jerked awake as the car slowed, pulling into a long gravel driveway. They yelped as they jostled their leg. “Are we here?”
Gray nodded. “Tori’s place. I haven’t been here in…a long time.”
Sam cast a glance into the back seat. Finn was slumped against Ellis, their head on their shoulder. Ellis’s head rested on top of Finn’s. One of Ellis’s hands laid gently under Finn’s. The other rested lightly on Isaac’s knee.
Vera sat up, looking around slowly. “We here?” she mumbled.
“Yup. Go ahead and wake the others.”
She reached back, shaking Ellis’s shoulder gently. “Ellis,” she whispered.
Their head lifted and they looked around, bleary. As their eyes focused they shook Finn’s shoulder. “Finn. Finn, we’re here. I’m so sorry…I let you fall asleep, I shouldn’t have done that…”
Finn’s eyes opened slowly and they smacked their lips. “That’s a myth.” Their voice was still slurred from sleep. “Going to sleep after a concussion is fine. I guess it just worried people because sometimes someone wouldn’t wake up after that but that’s probably because they had an intracranial hemorrhage and they woulda died anyway so -” They cut themselves off as Ellis took their chin in one hand.
“It’s good to know you didn’t get rung too hard,” Ellis whispered. Finn smiled shakily.
So I really love the criminal au rp I have going on with my friend
Hav some scenes
it’s been another week of public high school where @sage-of-the-mages threatens to wrap me in bubble wrap
Red X is for posted, white X is for requested.
Cw: broken bones
Honor bound - 31 (passing out from pain) - @badthingshappenbingo
Ellis pawed at Isaac’s hand, trying to dislodge it but unwilling to hurt him. “It’s ok, Isaac,” they soothed. “It’s me. It’s Ellis. You’re safe. You got out.”
Isaac’s eyes were unfocused. His gaze slid around the car, as if struggling to grasp what he was seeing. “Not…not a dream?”
“No,” Ellis whispered. “We’re safe.”
Isaac whimpered. “I don’t…believe…” He slumped back, his hand falling from Ellis’s chest. “Please…don’t…kill me…again.”
Ellis pulled back with horror as Isaac’s eyes rolled back and he sagged against the seatbelt.
Marcelo got a soleaus muscle injury. He will miss the next 3 weeks which means he won’t play against RCD Espanyol, Club Brugge, Valencia CF, FC Barcelona and Athletic Bilbao.
Eden Hazard got a micro-rupture in his ankle. He will surly miss the next matches including the matches against RCD Espanyol, Club Brugge, Valencia CF, FC Barcelona and Athletic Bilbao.
clouds will rage in
Storms will race in
But you will be safe in my arms
In My Arms- Plumb
Red X is for posted, white X is for requested.
Cw: blood, injuries, reducing a dislocated bone (if you’re squeamish)
Honor bound - 30 (I will only slow you down) - @badthingshappenbingo
“No. No way. No way I’m leaving you. Isaac…”
Isaac left bloody handprints on Sam’s shirt as he pushed against their chest. Tears left tracks in the soot and blood on his cheeks. “You have to go, Sam. Please. If they find you… If I…killed him…”
Sam pushed Isaac’s hands away and clutched at his shirt. “No. I’m not leaving without you.”
“I’ll only slow you down. Please…” Isaac whimpered. He curled up on his side, doing his best to cradle his left arm with his destroyed right hand. His eyes fluttered shut.
Sam’s hands tightened in his shirt. “No,” they hissed through their teeth. “If they find us then they find us. I’m not going anywhere without you. Come on, Isaac. You have to get up.” They leaned back, pulling on Isaac’s shirt with all their strength, their good foot scrabbling on the ground. They trembled, still weak from the fever. “Isaac please,” they begged. “Please.” Isaac lay still at their feet, eyes closed. They heaved a sob and released his shirt, falling to their hands and knees beside him. “Isaac…please…” They crawled to his side, mewling weakly as their broken leg jostled as they moved. They curled up next to him on the ground, fingers gently brushing against Isaac’s forearm. Their fingers came away bloody. They closed their eyes.
Sorry for the long wait! Here’s 3.4k words of messy comfort (+ angst) for you guys ~~
Instead of being hastily patched up and ordered to get back to work, Andreas was told he could rest. He didn’t know for how long, or what he’d have to do to show his appreciation later, only that he was extremely grateful for it. He was so tired that even keeping his eyes open was a chore. If he were to work now, he’d only mess up, and it had already been made clear what would happen then.
There was blood everywhere. His back, his knees, his fingertips. Even his bones hurt. He briefly wondered whether he’d be able to fall asleep despite the pain, and got his answer when he almost blacked out a moment later. Leaving this body for a little while sounded great, even if he knew he’d have to return to it eventually.
Andreas didn’t know why his master had chosen not to deliver the whole punishment; the whipping was always horrible, but it was only half the job. It was what followed that made it so frightening. Having to work while bleeding into his bandages -if he had been lucky enough to be given any- and if he messed up again, having his lesson repeated the next morning, until he learned, or he was too injured to be beaten again. That was how it worked.
He really didn’t understand this place.
After his punishment, Master Victoras led him to a room that wasn’t the slave quarters. All the doors and corridors looked the same to Andrea, especially when he was exhausted and blind with pain, but as soon as they were inside, he recognized Master’s room immediately.
“Master Victora?” he ventured, very quietly.
Victoras smiled softly, but before he could actually say anything, someone was knocking on the door.
“Come in,” Victoras said quietly.
A servant entered the room. Andreas thought he recognized him, maybe. He was holding a large bag to his chest, and looked a little uneasy. He didn’t look older than he was, though he was taller and not nearly as scrawny. His face was pale, and he had black hair and ice-blue eyes.
Beautiful, Andreas thought absently. So strong and healthy-looking. He looked nothing like him.
“Sir Victora,” the servant greeted with a short bow, walking further into the room. Andreas definitely knew that voice; he had heard it count to forty-five.
“Dimitri,” Victoras greeted. “Thank you for coming.”
Victoras nodded and turned to Andrea. “We’ll be taking care of your wounds now, if that’s alright,” he said. “And then you can rest, I promise.”
Did they really need two people for that? And that large bag? Surely, that wasn’t for him. But if not, then why had the servant brought it? Perhaps there was some obvious reason that Andreas did not see. His thoughts were fuzzy.
“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.” He turned to the servant. “Sir.”
“Please, call me Dimitri,” the servant said quietly. “You look like you’re my age.”
Andreas stared at him in confusion. “But you’re my superior.”
“Hardly,” the servant said. He was fidgety, and his left hand kept reaching for the nape of his neck, then lower, to his back, as if it was terribly itchy.
Andreas did not agree with Dimitri at all, but he stayed silent. He wouldn’t talk back to a free man; pain and exhaustion had made him disoriented, not reckless. Or stupid.
Victoras eyed Andrea thoughtfully, then turned to Dimitri. “I will have someone make him something to eat. Can you start without me?”
The servant nodded dutifully. “Yes, sir.”
In a moment, Victoras was gone, and Andreas was left alone with Dimitri. The servant placed the large bag on the table, put a towel on the seat of a chair and asked Andrea to sit on it. He was silent as he opened the bag, and Andreas saw him pull out bandages and a towel, which he assumed was going to be used to clean the wounds.
So the bag really was for him, then. Could it be that the mansion was terribly understaffed? He didn’t see any other reason they’d be so careful with a thief. Or willing to keep him around after what he had done.
Right from the duke’s tray. Andreas had trouble believing his own audacity. How could he have done such a thing? He had been suffering, starving, but the duke hadn’t been punishing him unfairly. He’d spilled that drink, after all. He should have taken it in silence, instead of reaching out with his filthy hands and taking what was not his. Even Master Victoras would think of him as a thief now, even though he had never stolen anything else. Andreas supposed he deserved that, too.
The servant spoke unexpectedly, startling Andrea out of his thoughts. “What was it like?” he said. He was still looking into the bag.
“Ah– My apologies,” Dimitris said, seemingly equally surprised with himself, and once again reached out to feel the skin on his back. He didn’t seem to realize that he was doing it. “I was just… It was my first time seeing something like that, and…”
Andreas winced. He hadn’t asked to be whipped in public, or for this one servant to be there to witness it, but he still felt responsible. He was the one who had chosen to steal, after all. “I am very sorry you had to see it. I hope you can forget about it quickly.”
He probably would; they always forgot about it in a day or two. Andreas had learned to do the same. Or try to.
“No, I…” Dimitris paused, bit his lower lip. He briefly scanned the room, as if the words he was looking for could be found scattered amongst the furniture. “I don’t want to forget about it,” he finally said.
Oh? Had he… enjoyed it, then? Once again, Andreas wasn’t sure he understood. He never was, these days. He was finally hungry and scared and in pain, and it was familiar, but for some reason he still didn’t get most of it. Only the crowd out there, that had been easy to understand. Only the crowd.
“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Dimitris continued. “What it looked like. What it must have felt like. And just for a…” He paused, swallowed hard. “…a loaf of bread. It was– it’s scary.”
He sounded upset.
“That’s okay,” Andreas heard himself say. “I was scared, too.”
“But you’re not anymore?”
Was he? This time had been different from every other time, but somehow still the very same. The pain was not unfamiliar, and the fear hadn’t gone anywhere; it just felt right by now, like it belonged. Used to it.
“Not until next time,” Andreas finally said.
Dimitris didn’t reply to that, only politely asked him to turn so he could start cleaning his wounds. Andreas did, hissing quietly when something cold touched his back.
“I’m sorry. This will probably hurt.”
“It’s okay.” He probably didn’t feel all of it, anyway.
Dimitris finished cleaning his back, hands and knees a few minutes later, and was just about to start on the bandages when Victoras returned.
Andreas stood quickly, not paying any mind to the quiet noise of surprise that Dimitris made. It was important that he showed the respect that was due in his master’s presence.
“Thank you, Dimitri,” Victoras said upon entering. “I can take it from here.”
“Are you sure, sir?”
Dimitris stared at Andrea like he wanted to say something to him, but in the end stayed silent. Perhaps because Andreas wouldn’t meet his eyes now that the master was here.
The boy doubted that he was allowed to casually chat with the servants in his free time, and he figured that it would be wise not to confirm that right then.
“Yes, sir,” Dimitris said, slowly. He headed for the door, leaving the bag on the table.
The servant stopped. “Sir?”
“I have asked the cook to make a soup. Could you go to the kitchens in thirty minutes and ask for it?” He paused, then added, “It’d be preferable if you mentioned my name only.”
The servant left and Victoras promptly took over his task, gesturing for Andreas to sit back down on the chair. “Dimitris has already cleaned your wounds, yes?” The boy nodded and Victoras smiled faintly in response.
The man didn’t speak another word while he worked. His hands felt stiff but careful as they slowly wrapped the bandages around the boy’s torso.
After a while, he spoke. “My fath-” He paused, cleared his throat. “You have permission to rest for three days, but I’m afraid you will have to go back to work after that. You will start with the simpler tasks until you have… fully recovered.”
That was kind of his masters, Andreas thought. The previous master he had served had used to allow them the remaining day to rest, and they returned to work the next morning. Didn’t want them to get used to laziness, he’d said. Victoras was truly a kind master…
“Yes, Master Victora.”
Victoras didn’t reply immediately. “Do you think you could eat?”
He was very hungry, but the idea of putting food in his mouth made his stomach clench. Still, his master seemed to want him to eat. “I can try, Master.”
“Don’t push yourself. If your appetite returns later, I will ask the cook to prepare another meal. You just focus on recovering for now, okay?”
He shivered, and Master seemed to notice.
“You should put something on before you catch a cold,” Victoras said. He went to fetch a new shirt for Andrea from his own dresser. “Would you like me to help you?” he asked, looking down at the white shirt in his hands.
“That wouldn’t be necessary, Master,” Andreas said softly. His master hadn’t wanted to do any of this in the first place; the last thing Andreas wanted was to trouble him even more than he already had.
Victoras looked a bit hesitant, but handed him the shirt. It was one of his own, too big for the boy’s small frame, but Andreas wasn’t about to complain. In fact, he should’ve probably politely refused it, but he was too cold and exhausted to do that.
His back was still on fire, but he managed to put it on without making a sound. He even succeeded in keeping his expression mostly neutral.
When he looked up, however, Master was watching him like Andreas was currently attempting to walk on the edge of the mansion’s highest balcony. His eyes were wide and full of concern, and sharp as they followed the boy’s every move. Which was… rather odd, Andreas thought, because no master had ever whipped his back raw and then looked at him like that.
He waited a couple minutes to make sure his master didn’t require anything of him, and then stood up again. Victoras looked at him, a little surprised, but before he had time to say anything, the boy bowed deeply. “I am sorry, Master,” he said.
He would have fallen to his knees, but he wasn’t sure he’d have the energy to get back up after, and really didn’t want to risk it and find out. Victoras had never seemed too pleased by his kneeling, anyway.
Andreas had planned on holding this position for a few seconds and then straightening up again, but Victora’s silence made him hesitate. When he did raise his head, he saw his master frowning down at him.
“What are you apologizing for?” Andreas wasn’t sure if he’d imagined the emphasis on the word ‘you’.
The boy swallowed hard, worried he might have said something wrong. His master certainly did not look pleased.
“For making you punish me, Master?” He had not meant for it to sound like a question, but at least he’d managed to not slur his speech.
Victoras shook his head, his lips moving soundlessly over words Andreas could not read. Finally, he said, “You are not the one who made me do that, Andrea.”
“I stole from your father,” Andreas said softly, hoping it didn’t sound too much like he was trying to correct his master. The words still sent shivers of cold fear down his spine, even knowing he had already been punished for what he had done.
“Of course you did,” Victoras said, and Andreas flinched.
Had his master always thought of him as a thief? He had never stolen anything else. He wouldn’t dare do it again. But it was useless; he couldn’t prove it. If his master thought him a thief, he’d be treated like one. Not that he didn’t deserve it.
“Of course you did,” Victoras repeated. “He wanted you to. That’s the only reason he was starving you.”
“B- But… I was being punished, Master,” Andreas said, aware now that he was openly contradicting his master. He really had to stop before he earned himself another punishment, but he just didn’t understand.
“For what? For tripping? Do you think that is fair?”
Yes, Andreas thought, but his master clearly wanted to hear the opposite. But that was not what Andreas had been taught, and now he had to choose between lying, knowing his master would probably realize it, or telling the truth, knowing that his master was going to be displeased.
In the end, he just nodded, even thought at this point he didn’t even remember what the question had been exactly. Was he saying that yes, this is normal, or that yes, this is not normal? It didn’t matter. He just hoped that whichever it was, he had gotten it right.
“Andrea,” Victoras started, but whatever he had been about to say was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. “Who is it?”
“Sir,” came a quiet voice from the other side of the door. Forty-five.
“Come in, Dimitri.”
Dimitris slowly opened the door with one hand, and soon Andreas spotted the tray he was balancing on the palm of the other. It didn’t look very steady, and Andreas held his breath as he watched Dimitri close the door behind him, the bowl on the tray shaking.
“I have the meal you asked for, sir,” Dimitris said, finally facing them and taking the tray in both hands.
“Thank you,” Victoras said, smiling faintly. Turning to the slave, he asked, “Where would you like to eat, Andrea?”
The boy stared at them, a little confused. He hadn’t been certain that the food was for him until now, since his master had apparently ordered it for himself. Was he actually going to be fed food that had been made for the master? What was Victoras going to eat? “Wherever you please, Master.”
Victoras nodded slightly and took the tray, carefully placing it on the bedside table. “Come sit on the bed, if you like.”
Was this a test? It didn’t feel like one. “Th- The floor would be alright, Master,” Andreas said, regretting not having suggested that sooner.
“Nonsense. I will not allow for one of my slaves to eat on the floor, injured and on the verge of collapsing.”
I would not collapse. I have been made to work after punishments twice as severe and not even half of the kindness that you have shown me afterwards. “Thank you, Master. You are too kind.”
Victoras shook his head once, a brief motion that Andreas didn’t know the meaning of. Then he gestured for the boy to sit down on the bed, using the spoon to stir the soup with his other hand.
“Careful,” Victoras murmured as he lifted the spoon. “It’s hot.”
Andrea’s stomach had mostly settled by now, and his appetite had fully returned after he had smelled the soup. This wasn’t tasteless gruel, after all. It was the master’s lunch.
The boy parted his lips and allowed for Victoras to feed him the first spoonful. It was hot, just as he had told him - hot enough to burn his tongue, perhaps, but Andreas did not care. He was hungry, and he had never had food like this before. Warm food.
And when his head finally cleared enough for him to feel the wrongness of being spoon-fed by his master, he still didn’t say anything, because Victoras looked so focused on his task that Andreas decided it would be better not to disturb him. He just opened his mouth whenever the next spoonful came, risking a grateful glance at his master every now and then.
But Victoras didn’t seem to notice. He kept his eyes on the spoon, the bowl, the boy’s mouth. He only paused a few times to ask Andrea if he could eat more.
Once Andreas had emptied the bowl, the constant ache in his stomach having eased for the first time in days, Master turned to Dimitri, seemingly surprised to find he was still there.
“You can go if you like, Dimitri. Thank you for your help.”
Dimitris bowed. “Shall I take the tray, sir?”
“Please,” Victoras said, handing it to him.
The servant placed a hand on the door handle, but hesitated. “May I…” He glanced at Andrea, who did look back at him this time. “May I come see him again soon, sir?”
“I have no reason to forbid you from doing so,” Victoras said, “but I don’t think I am the one you should be asking.”
Dimitris appeared to understand immediately and he looked away from Victora at once, training his eyes on the boy instead. “Is it okay if I visit you? When you’re better?”
Was it okay? Andreas glanced at his master anxiously, looking for some indication of what he was supposed to say. But when the man did look at him, all he did was nod encouragingly.
It’s really up to me?
Did he want for Dimitris to visit him? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t mind his company, but he also didn’t see a reason why the servant would want to see him again. Not knowing made him nervous.
In the end, he just lowered his eyes and nodded slightly. “I… would not mind that.”
When Andreas looked up again, Dimitris was beaming at him, apparently very satisfied by that answer. And for some strange reason, Andreas suddenly felt pleased, too.
After mouthing what Andreas understood was a silent 'thank you,’ the servant pressed on the door handle and disappeared with a quick bow. Victoras was also smiling, if faintly.
“Why don’t you get some rest?” Victoras said after a while.
“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master,” Andreas said and got up, but Victoras stopped him.
“I would not send you to the slave quarters in such a state. Please, use my bed,” he said, and seeing Andrea’s bemused expression, added, “or at least, the couch.”
“I will lock the door and be gone until late in the evening. You will not be disturbed.”
“I couldn’t possibly–”
Victoras silenced him by placing a hand on his shoulder. The touch was gentle, and Andreas found he had not expected anything different from this man. Which couldn’t be right, given that this man was his master.
“I insist. Please rest.”
He really didn’t deserve this. “I… could I please sleep on the couch, Master?”
“Of course. I will fetch you a blanket.”
Andreas had already fallen asleep on his master’s bed once, back when Victoras had brought him to his room after that party and told him to rest. He had let him sleep, and woken him once the party was over, hours later, so that the overseer wouldn’t go looking for him.
He hadn’t been angry, hadn’t even mentioned Andrea’s falling asleep where he had. The boy even faintly remembered his master being the one who had guided him on the bed that day.
Still, Andreas had spent days thinking about how that could’ve ended if Victoras had actually cared about correcting his behavior, and wasn’t planning on making the same mistake just because he was tired. The couch was already so much more than he could hope for.
“Thank you,” Andreas said when his master handed him the blanket, along with a large pillow. He knew that he still hadn’t thanked him enough.
The couch wasn’t any less comfortable than the bed, and still larger than the spot where Andreas slept at the slave quarters. When he lay down, his stomach was full, he wasn’t cold, and he could ignore the pain on his back enough to sleep.
His last thought before he fell asleep was that if this was what being punished meant, he should get whipped more often.
Tag list (which I’m still very flattered by btw, like woah): @whumpthisway @comfortforthepain @whumposaurus @justanothermaltesegirl @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @nervous-writer @deluxewhump @dragonwasser @haro-whumps
Also @whumping-every-day who isn’t in the tag list but said she wanted to read this part! <3
Thank you for reading! ~
Joanne dragged herself along the forest floor, roots and stones scraping through her tattered clothes over her chest. She kicked her legs once or twice as she clawed at the dirt, but it was no use. They were definitely broken, and she had no adrenaline left to force them to work anyway.
Her skin was scraped, pierced, and torn, her limbs mangled. But she had to keep going. What she’d been through was nothing compared to what those townsfolk would do if they caught her now after already having escaped once.
She had to find Emil. Nobody else could help. Nobody else would help.
He’s a tragic guy😅
i don’t know what i fucking want in this life, and i wish it wasn’t mine, 2019, fossickly
alt title: everything i draw sucks donkey ass and my life is plagued by dysphoria
Part three! This is the third part of my starwitch series. You can find the last part here. Again, the starwitches aren’t my species, they are @fallingstormphoenix species (and i honestly highly recommend their blog). Also, I’m so sorry that the last part was so short, I tried to make this one longer.
Their eyelids fluttered open. There was a bright light above them. They squinted and raised their arm to shield their eyes, there was stuff coming out of their arm. They put their hand down after they were used to the light. They heard someone near them and turned their head to see who it was. It was the guy, who saved them. They were surprised that he was still there, wasn’t he disgusted by now?
“Oh, you’re awake. That’s good. You were asleep for a few days. You weren’t in good condition when we found you.” The man said, their voice like thunder, a loud rolling sound.
Please, please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean to, I should have asked first. I’m sorry I-I didnt mean to, I’m sorry. They sent torwards the man, they didn’t want to risk saying anything.
“No, no, I’m not gonna hurt you bud, why would I want to hurt you.” The man said kindly. They let out a breath of relief. The man probably thought that because they were already hurt he wouldn’t hurt them until they healed. “So that was you huh? Amazing.” They nodded their head. Something changed in his eyes and he suddenly asked, “How you feeling buddy?” They looked around, there was no one else there, he couldn’t be talking to them. They were vermin, not something to talk to, and he already talked to them. They raised their hand and gestured torwards themself, asking if he was talking to them. “Yeah, you buddy.”
They shrugged their shoulders as they saw someone walk through the door. They turned, frightened. They relaxed when they saw that it was the woman who saved him. The man stood up and walked over to the woman. They looked away, anything that went on between them wasn’t their business. They had no place eavesdropping.
“Hey.” The woman said sweetly, they looked up, they were confused again. Why did they keep talking to him? Didn’t the woman and man know that they were something to get rid of? “You can call me Ellie, and my husband, the man who was just here is Peter.” The woman-Ellie, was kind. Ellie. They mouthed the name and it seemed to fit. Ellie was smiling at them. “So, honey, you feelin better? When we found you, you had many broken bones.”
They felt more comfortable with Ellie, than with the man-Peter. So they sent, I-I don’t, don’t really know ma'am. They added the ma'am because maybe that was the right answer. Ellie smiled kindly. She reached torward them and they flinched away. She pulled her hand away, they were so confused. Why didn’t she hit him? It obviously the wrong answer, why didn’t she punish him?
Ellie didn’t seem to know what was wrong, she thought and subconsciously twisted her ring. The ring caught their eye, they liked sparkly things. Sparkly things were pretty, things that people wanted. Unlike them. They thought that sparkly things were made of stars. They had been punished for saying that once, so they never said it again, it must have been wrong. Star?! They sent torwards Ellie without thinking.
“What? Oh my ring?” Ellie asked, confused and then amused. “No, no, it’s not a star. It’s a diamond. You can hold it if you want.” They were entranced by it, eyes seemingly lighting up when they were allowed to hold it. They held out their hands shakily. Ellie smiled as they studied the ring. “It’s my wedding ring, Peter was so happy when he found that one. He said that it was perfect. Being perfect it obviously cost a fortune, but he paid that no heed.” She was lost in memories and all they could focus was the word “fortune”. They shouldn’t be holding it, they would ruin it. Infect it somehow. They gave it back as quick as they could, as if it burned them. Ellie was concerned.
She was about to say something when a cry came from a carseat by the door. Ellie rushed over and picked up a baby. They ridiculed themself, they should have never touched it. They probably made it tainted, and all of the other stuff that they are. They thought that maybe because she tolerated them she wouldn’t mind as much, they knew that they were being idiotic. Who could ever want something tainted, something messed up, something like them?
“Hey honey, do you mind holding her for a sec? I need to grab her bottle from the car.” Ellie asked, obviously stressed out. They nodded and reached out for the baby. They liked babies. Babies were like blank canvases, just waiting to paint their life. They held the baby close to them and didn’t notice when Ellie left. They pressed their forehead to the child’s and looked. They looked through the child, it was a fuzzy feeling. It felt different though. They liked this feeling. This child-Liea, they found out-was special. Leia was going to change the world.
They looked down at the fragile child and started to sing. Their voice was rusty after not using it for so long. They sang, they let the words flow and the magic as well. The song that the stars dance to as well. They showed Leia the edges of the universe, stars dancing through their eyes and the air around them.