futile pleading

Without You: Bloodstone (Part 1)

Genre: AU, werewolf, fantasy, angst

Warnings: language, violence, suggestive content

Word Count: 3.2k

Summary: Werewolves, contrary to popular belief, are usually gentle creatures. Except for a very specific set of circumstances, they would never hurt a human (on purpose). The few unfortunate times when mistakes were made put a permanent dark mark on the beasts and people began labeling them as monsters. What the human population failed to recognize was the fact that they were protecting us from something much more sinister. Luckily, a few survived and the gene was passed down hereditarily until one day finding its way to me… in the form of my best friend.

Link to: Storyboard (reference pictures)Prologue | Masterlist | Next

Originally posted by tbhobi

Loyalty is often as blind as justice should be, as unstable as a lightning storm ought to be, and as misplaced as an opinion in the truth.

Chapter 1:

The night air is crisp, burning slightly but pleasantly in my throat and lungs with every rapid inhale. Overhead, the full moon casts a delicate, silvery glow on the surrounding trees, dappled pattern changing with every soft breeze. Leaves crunch under my shoes, making it easy to trace not only my whereabouts, but also his, even at a distance. I lighten my steps, hoping to buy myself a couple meters and thus a few more seconds.

The bag in my hand is heavy, but I force myself to put up with the weight a little longer. Taking my lips between my teeth, I press myself against one of the many trees that peppers the forest, sparse when standing among them, dense when taking it in as a whole.

I can hear him pause, listening for me.

Suddenly, it’s too quiet. The leaves have stopped rustling and my heartbeat sounds like a drum. Trying to further muffle my breathing, I place my free hand over my mouth, ears straining to find any sign of life. Where is he-?

My scream cuts through the night air as his warmth wraps around me, pinning my back to the rough bark, but stopping me from falling with a sure yet gentle grip. Jungkook’s nose presses into my hair, putting his lips right next to my ear as he says, tone teasing, “Gotcha.”

I push him away playfully, making sure the bag hits him, “How do you DO that?”

Pulling off the scarf I had wrapped around his head, covering his eyes, he shrugs, lightly rubbing his upper arm from the impact, “Maybe you’re just really bad at hiding, Eun-ah.”

“Yah! No, that’s definitely not it,” I laugh, walking around him; yet glancing over my shoulder to make sure he follows. “But if it makes a difference, that was the fastest one yet.”

Jungkook smiles as he jogs to catch up, “I’m getting better.”

“You’re getting CREEPIER,” I tease, eyes searching for the clearing, “Now help me find it.”

“Remind me why I’m doing this?”

“Because I play YOUR stupid games all the time and this only happens once a month,” I hoist the bag over my shoulder, a more comfortable resting position for its heavy contents. “I know you know where it is.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, wrapping his fingers around my wrist and guiding me forward, “I do.”

Despite us having gone there only twice, Jungkook guides me with the surety of a professional navigator. Within the first thirty seconds, I give up trying to recognize the trees that all look the same, instead choosing to watch my companion’s face. His features are tensed in concentration, but I’ve always thought the expression suited him.

Living in a rural town with a population that is constantly teetering on the edge of one thousand means it is easy to become best friends with a next door neighbor, especially one as sweet and smart (and handsome) as Jungkook. It also helps that we are two of less than sixty people around our age within a ten mile radius, but I still count myself as fortunate.

“You’re the best,” I tousle his dark hair before sprinting forward, into the field sprinkled heavily with bright purple and blue Hepatica flowers.

Jungkook follows me hesitantly, glancing at the tree line as if he’s expecting someone to emerge, but I ignore him, opting to throw down the heavy bag in the middle of the clearing and start sifting through the various rocks and jars of herbs.

“Eun, are you sure you should be messing with stuff like this?” his low, apprehensive voice makes me pause. Squatting like the well-mannered girl I am, I swivel around to look at him with a questioning expression, but my friend’s attention is locked on something above us, presumably, the moon.

“You were fine with it last month.”

A small, uncertain noise comes from the back of his throat, “Yeah, but this time, it feels different. Bad.”

“It’s not like I’m summoning demons,” I scoff humorously, locating and taking out the old leather bound book I had somehow found on Ebay of all places, “Divination is harmless.”

“Really? Because standing in a flower field at midnight during a full moon…” his sentence trails off as I find the second object I need, a cloth pouch, removing the smooth bloodstone carefully, running the pad of my thumb over the bright crimson speckles.

“I need to concentrate, strong smells help with that, I like the smell of Hepaticas, and this is the only place we can find a whole bunch of them,” I explain as I stand, glancing down at the text near my feet for further instruction. “And the book says the full moon will bring me closer to the spirits.”

The lack of protest from my usually highly responsive companion catches my attention and I can’t help but pause, turning to see if something is wrong. Unmoving, painted in the harsh, highly contrasted, yet grey tinted colors of night, Jungkook stands with his back to me, gaze still fixed on the unobscured moon above us. Suddenly, I notice how eerily silent it is, the air itself seeming to hang, suspended, stifling, which makes the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

“Are you okay?” I ask hesitantly, but receive no response. I’m not even sure he heard me, so I try again, taking a step toward him, “Yah, Jungkook-”

My friend immediately collapses.

Keep reading

I love that this fearless daughter who ignores her mother’s orders because she wants to fly is also the believer who can do the impossible, who constantly testing the limits of this something special she knows is flowing in her veins, is also curious enough to overcome her snobbery, who dares to believe the odd boy who spins outlandish, fantastic stories about a magical world, is also the witch-the real witch-who squeals with delight, eyes flashing in triumph as she reads her letter, is also the daughter whose cheeks flush when her mum calls her their special, wonderful, darling girl, is also the awestruck eleven year old who beams when the wall disintegrates and her world is revealed for the first time, whose lungs burn from sucking in so much air and fingertips tingle for hours after she finds a wand-her wand, who steals the calendar from her dad’s den to mark the days until September 1st, is also the schoolgirl who chokes back tears on the last day of term because she must leave behind her friends, home, family to step off into the unknown, and although she does it bravely, she learns that a new start often means a bittersweet end, is also the student who excels, who relishes her lessons, who doesn’t squirm at the beetle eyes like the other girls, is also the mudblood who realizes with that one sharp, awful word that for some people, she is different, less, who allows herself one good cry before raising her chin in defiance and refusing to let them break her, is also the girl with a fierce temper and a quick tongue, is also the protector who refuses to tolerate injustice, who stands up to prejudiced gits and idiot bullies alike, is also the betrayed who realizes, painfully, that it’s not her job to save someone and to let go of toxic relationships, is also the muggleborn who returns home term after term to a strained relationship with her sister, who struggles to keep her temper and magic in check, especially when provoked, is also the charming student who sasses her teachers when they’re looking and bends the rules when they aren’t, is also the loving daughter who adores her parents but cannot seem to bridge the gap that grows with every year spent in a different world, is also the head girl who falls for her friend-this reckless, funny, loyal, charming, sweet, brave boy who was never really that bad and who, imagine that, still fancies her, is also the eighteen year old who refuses to submit to fear and instead signs up to fight, is also the lover who marries her boy, jumping in with both feet not because she believes in happily ever after, because she doesn’t, but because she believes in them, is also the soldier who puts her career on hold to battle for those who can’t, who barely escapes with her life not once or twice, but three times, who is plagued with nightmares but keeps trudging forward, even when it seems like they aren’t making any ground, is also the grieving daughter who loses both parents to death and a sister to bitterness, is also the teenager with sweaty palms clinging too tightly to her teenage husband’s hands when the charm confirms their suspicions, but who cannot bear the thought of giving up this slice of happiness, of normalcy, however terrifying it may be, is also the protective mother-to-be whose heart stops when the words from the prophecy shatter around them, marking their child-and by extension, them-for death, is also the soldier who now must now fight her instincts rather than the enemy and stand still, hide, even though it chokes her, suffocating her, to let others fight, is also the woman who thinks she’ll be able to keep her cool during labor but loses it completely, nearly coming unhinged at the pain and at the thought that he is going to be born as the seventh month dies after all, just when they were so close, is also the wife who learns with her husband, clumsily, how to turn from a couple into a family, is also the loving mother who holds her baby boy close, more tenderly than she thought capable, singing off key melodies by day and whispering her love in the quiet hours of the night, is also the comrade who mourns the fallen, shut up in her house, unable to do anything but grieve and cling to her boys more tightly, is also the Evans who still masochistically sends cards to Privet Drive, knowing they’ll be discarded but clinging to the hope that her last link to her old life hasn’t been severed completely, is also the pen pal who writes charming letters to her friends, bragging about her son and her husband and the slice of happiness they’ve been able to carve for themselves, is also the worrier who breathes a sigh of relief because they are really, truly safe after the charm has been cast, is also the woman who can’t even spare a glance for her husband as she rushes up the stairs, baby in her arms, is also the widow who screams when she hears the thud that means her love is gone, who cannot let herself succumb to the madness that wants to overtake her because she is also the last stand between her child, her baby, and him, death, so she is also the mother who throws boxes against the door, who casts her arms out wide in front of the cot, who counts her numbered heartbeats, who knows it’s futile but pleads mercy anyway, who refuses to stand aside and instead lovingly, bravely, intentionally gives her life rather than watch her son die.


companion to this piece

I know this is ridiculously long but I love Lily and it is her birthday.

Devil!Yoongi. 1945 words. Fluffy Angst.

Originally posted by hugtae

Blood-stained hands shake the boy awake, a desperate voice calls for his name, willing him to open his eyes and tears drip onto his bruised, paling cheek. The headlights of the battered car, might as well call piece of junk now, bathe you with light that the moon can’t give. Having deemed that he’s still not waking up, you then return to what you were doing before.

Placing your left palm onto your right fingers on his chest, you then start doing the compression all over again. The taste of metal still lingers in your mind from your lips that are once clamped against his as you breathed into him.

“Stay with me, Jimin.” You mutter a soft prayer.

Keeping him alive is all that matters; the cut on your left side burns with every motion you make and defile your beige colored dress with ugly crimson. At least, you could do at least this until help arrives.

“He’s dead, fool.”

You’re uncertain if it’s your realist side talking or if someone else is really here. But two words are all it takes for your walls to break down and let reality weighs them out until they crumble to the point of no repairing. Your actions come to a halt as you look up at a mint haired boy standing five feet from you and Jimin; just standing there.

“Help us.” You whisper in a futile plead, disregarding the insult he offhandedly strum.

His eyes glazes over your boyfriend’s body that lies on the asphalt, bruised, bloodied and most of all; dead.

“Please, help us!” You raise your voice again as the waterworks defile your dirt-smudged cheeks.

“I can but there will be a price to pay.” He divulges.

And rather than the rational part within you, you opt to listen to the impetuous thoughts, ones that cling onto a wishful thinking.

So you more than willingly comply,“Anything.”

He crouches down, smiling with devious satisfaction of what, you know not.

“When he wakes up, he won’t remember you or even recognize you. You’ll be gone from his life; puff. But only you, he won’t remember. And in return; your soul will be mine. The question is, are you willing to sell your soul to the devil?” If it weren’t for the circumstances, you’d be swooning over how attractive he is, he was attractive before but now, with that smile he’s wearing, he looks like an angel of mischief.

You don’t even think twice when you agree to it.

“Yes.“You breathe.

His eyes squints a little when his smile widens. Before you can even comprehend what’s happening, his face inches closer until you feel his lips on yours, soft yet spiteful. He tugs your bottom lips teasingly, asking for entrance that he already knows is granted.

It’s wrong on so many level; your boyfriend is lying dead on the ground right in front of you, you’re kissing a man whom you never even seen before over his body but what’s more wrong is that it felt so right.

And on that cold night, you seal the deal with a kiss.

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

There’s a slurp- like the obnoxiously loud slurp when you’re basically sucking more air instead of your drink kind of slurp.

Then another.

And another.

"Can’t you drink any louder?” You snap your head at Yoongi’s, the devil you made a deal with, direction.

He glances down at you mockingly and starts making an abominable sound that doesn’t even sound like slurping anymore. You take in a deep breath, balling your hands into fists and clenching them tightly to restrain yourself from punching the air in the middle of the hospital lobby. Because he can materialize and disappears anytime he wants. So any sudden movement you make may direct unneeded attention to you and earn you a one way trip to he asylum.

“You are insufferable.” You confess.

“I sure as hell ain’t here to give you sugar, spice and everything nice. Because if you’re looking for that, then you made a deal with the wrong angel, sweetheart.” He retorts.

“I thought angels are pretty, not utterly unbearable to look at.” You cheekily smile a fake smile. “But wait, you’re the devil now so it’s in your nature to look as unpleasant as your presence.”

Picking up your pace, you tread towards the familiar hallway of doors until you spot the one and stand still in front of it first, composing yourself before you slide the door open and wear your brightest smile.

“Hi, Jimin.” You saunter inside, coming to a stand next to the bed where a ginger haired boy sits with his shoulders slightly hunched.

He shoots a polite smile your way and you feel your heart clench at the sight of it. Gone are the devious smiles that he used to give you, replaced by one that only exists as means of being court. He really doesn’t remember you.

“No flowers today, _____?” He asks to which you flush in vexation.

Noticing your discomfort, Jimin laughs lightly. “I’m just kidding.”

You join in the laugh, having your chest fill with lightness. Maybe he can’t remember you, but you’re thankful enough that he’s not freaked out that a stranger comes visiting him every week, bringing him the same kind of flower all time;lilies, the flower that the both of you decide for your relationship on one fine evening when you both entered a flower shop. You hoped that it would at least trigger something in him.

It’s been two months down since the accident; since you swear his heart stopped beating at the scene and since he sucked in a breath right after the kiss is broken and the ambulance arrived.

You talk for hours until you notice that the sky is dark and the lights illuminate the city through the window in his room. Though you’re basically a stranger to Jimin, he still asks about you, listens to your occasional rant about your history professor being a hardass for not giving you an A on your assignment.

“Will you come again, sometime this week?” Jimin asks, a tinge of red coating his cheeks.

He’s always been the shy type; too darn slow to even make a move on the first year of college that you finally decided enough was enough and went over to his table where he’s having lunch with his friends and straight out demanded him to go on a date with you.

“Definitely.” You beam.

You walk out, feeling a ray of hope flicker in the deepest depth of the part of you that you locked up so you wouldn’t be expecting anything from him that might hurt you.

“Something happened.” Yoongi asserts.

He’s leaning on the wall directly in front of the door you just slid shut behind you.

“You didn’t come out ready to cry yourself out for days like the usual.”

“I think Jimin’s finally accepting me. Maybe not in a romantic way but he’s accepting me into his life. I only came once a week because I don’t want to annoy him with my visits but he actually asked if I’ll come again.”

Yoongi silently listens to your babbles of nothings. His eyes are glazed though it’s nothing new.

“Maybe I’ll come this Friday?” You look over your shoulders as you’re walking a few steps ahead of him, waiting for his two cents that you’re going to ignore if they happen to be rude- but he’s always rude anyway.

Disinterest has always been a comrade to him; it makes him who he is and helps mask the ghastly intentions of his demons.


He won’t let you.

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ 

“You’re not going.”

The words that flow out of his mouth hits your ears and leaves the room in a foreboding silence. Clad in black, he stands facing you with eyes that you dare not interpret as pleading; you’ll be damned.

As everything sinks in, the shock fritters away, making anger rear its ugly head.

“How dare you.” You speak, barely above whisper with a hoarse voice.

“Your soul belongs to me.” He reminds nonchalantly.

“You may have ownership over my soul but that doesn’t mean you own me, Yoongi.” You hiss between your teeth, eyes boring into his, daring him to challenge you and when he doesn’t, you push him away, striding past him and making a beeline towards the door.

It’s been three days since the visit, you would’ve visited the next day but you don’t want to look overexcited or anything. But the fact is, you’re thrilled that Jimin wants to see you on his own accord, not because he feels obliged to do so because you’re his girlfriend- heck, he doesn’t even know who you are and you asked his families and friends to keep it that way- but because he actually wants to.

Then out of nowhere, Yoongi appears in your room while you’re applying make up -you never do but today feels like a special occasion- and trapped you between the makeup table and him when you turned around to face him.

You’re halfway to the door when you feel yourself come to an abrupt halt and feel the control leave your body until you’re like a puppet that functions off strings. You feel your feet moving and you see Yoongi getting closer to you, or rather, you ambling closer to him despite your inner protests.

“Actually, I own your entire being.”

He grins lazily.

“Let me go.” You demand, making a tacit promise to keep him where the sun doesn’t shine the second you get control over your body back.

“You don’t even love him anymore.” He states, as if it’s a known fact to the whole world except you.

“Listen here, Min Yoongi, you may own my soul and even have control over my body but you don’t know shit about my feelings. You’d need a heart to feel those and a devil that goes around feeding off and taking advantage of people’s desperation sure as hell doesn’t own one.” You hotly retort.

He almost looks hurt. Almost. But it was gone as soon as it came that you even wonder if you’re seeing things now apart too. Yoongi leans close enough for you to notice every little detail of his face, his bleached hair that drapes over his forehead, his eyelashes that brushes the top of his cheeks when he blinks and his nonchalant look that you’ve only finally noticed hides a thousand unvoiced thoughts.

His lips almost brushes yours and lingers there, barely touching. You feel shivers run down your spine and you don’t know if it’s him; if he’s the one making you but you tilt your head up just slightly and meet his soft lips, they feel just as soft as last time and they taste just like him; minty and just nice.

Melting into the kiss, you didn’t realize that your hand goes up against his chest and grips his shirt until you pull away for air. It’s then that you put two and two together; you’ve acquired command over your body the moment you tilt your head to kiss him. You want to kiss him.

Your gaze is locked with his and that’s when you finally see Yoongi for who he is underneath those sarcastic remarks and bickering you two have shared over the past two months; the reason he’s acting like an ass now, the reason he’s preventing you from going to Jimin; he’s asking you to stay.

With him.

“Don’t I?”


Based on “Imagine Thorin singing you a lullaby when you have a bad dream” from Imaginexhobbit 

Song lyrics belong to Tolkien.


You were so high in the tree. Much too high.

Smoke stung your eyes and rasped your throat as you looked down through the haze of sparks and ashes at the hellish scene of flames and howls and savage shouts far below. The beasts circled, their fangs snapping, their eyes glowing eerily in the darkness as the orcs gibbered and taunted.

You could see no sign of your friends. You were alone, helpless. The tree shivered as the largest of the wargs threw itself angrily at the trunk, butting it with all of its strength, and tears streamed down your cheeks as you cried out in terror. You were pleading futilely, begging them to leave you alone, spare you – you may as well have craved mercy from the flames themselves – when you saw him.

The pale orc.

Keep reading

latteloverlazyguy  asked:

Of course you should do the "Send me a ship and I will tell you…." thing. As for the pairing Kaneki/Hide. (i need some: they are happy and alive fluff in my life. ~(>_<~) so sorry)

YES, PLEASE! This will be long, though, you better sit comfortably.

Send me a ship and I will tell you…

The parents -

Who first brought up having/adopting kids? Hide. Kaneki never really realizes he indeed has a chance to have a family of his own, one composed of people who love and care for him as he is, imperfect and dangerous and broken and all. When Hide tells him about adopting, his first reaction is a terrified ‘No’ - he can’t ruin a kid’s life, how can he take care of a kid?, he can’t, he’s dangerous, he can’t, it is already too much dangerous for Hide alone! - but slowly Hide manages to convince him to at least give it a thought. Their adoption of a kid happens almost by mistake as Hide saves a kid during CCG mission and he brings him home because “Neki, I swear, he had a Kakugan, I saw it, when the others came it wasn’t there anymore, but I’m sure I’ve seen it! We can’t hand him to them!”, but Kaneki, in the end, doesn’t regret taking the kid in.

Which parent is most overprotective? Kaneki. Hide would throw the kid up and Kaneki’s kagune would shot to wrap around him even from the kitchen, his heart pounding crazily as he thinks about all the worst possible outcomes; Hide would try to wash the kid and Kaneki would be hysteric not to let water get into their ears; Hide would walk him to school and Kaneki would look out with his kagune ready to pierce through the belly of whoever dares to approach his kid.

Which parent is most supportive? Hide. Sometimes the kid has some idea that is not exactly the safest - like deciding to go to that kid three years older to tell him to stop bullying his friend - and in this cases Kaneki is all but supportive: he’s more like ‘Let me take care of it’, while Hide knows that sometimes their kid needs to prove himself and lets him, even if being ready to help.

Which parent expects the most from their child? The only expectance they both have of him is to survive. They don’t want anything else from him, they’ve seen and lost enough. Just, not him.

Which parent is more likely to spoil their child? Kaneki. When it’s not about something dangerous, Kaneki will never say ‘No’. He would prepare the kid’s favorite dish when he feels like eating, cuts the best slices of meat when he’s in need of “ghoul’s food”, hunts for him, play with him, everything. As long as the kid is safe, he’ll do anything for him. Hide tries to be a bit stricter, but he often fails, to be honest.

Which parent does the child go to to get their way? When, often, Kaneki says, or is surely going to say, no, the kid runs up to Hide. Puppy eyes, threatening tears, trembling lip and Inspector Nagachika is kissing Kaneki’s neck. Which is a sign. Kaneki sighs and lays whatever he’s doing. “What do you want?” Hide always tries to deny, but it’s futile. When Hide pleads for him, the kid always get what he wants.

Which parent is the best at singing lullabies? Kaneki. He was awkward and embarrassed at first, but just a few seconds are enough to knock the kid out cold and after nights and nights and nights completely deprived of sleep, Hide was not going to give up in their only solution and thus forced him to sing by threats of tickling. Kaneki now sings for their kid out of his own free will.

Which parent finds it harder to let go? Kaneki. It’s strange, since he was the one who didn’t want to get a kid, but when he sees the child finally grown up and dressed in his “Re:” waiter uniform, ready to go to work, he manages to smile just enough for the kid to get out of their house, then he crumbles and cries in Hide’s arms. “What if anything happens to him?! He’s half-ghoul!” “Then he’ll come back here, Neki. He knows he’s got some kick-ass fathers ready to fight for him. And don’t worry, you’ve already scared off of him three quarters of the ghouls in the whole city.” “… I should take care of the last quarter…” “Neki, no.”

The kid - 

What the kids name is and the meaning behind it. His name’s Akio. It means “bright man” and he sure is, he’s so bright he completely lighted up Kaneki and Hide’s life.

What traits the kid has that doesn’t reflect their parents. He’s a bit sneaky, always know what to do to get his way, and he doesn’t hesitate in pretending; but he wouldn’t do it without a good reason. Also, he’s extremely determined, strong-minded and ready to take decisions even if those means heavy consequences. He’s the ideal leader and always speaks his mind without hesitation. Touka sometimes smacks him but even she is clearly proud.

What the kids favorite clothing style is. In between Kaneki’s sweaters and Hide’s absurdly bright colors, the kid came out quite normal, much to Touka’s and Hinami’s relief. He usually likes to wear bright shirts above sober T-shirts, but sometimes he can wear some…peculiar clothes.

What their favorite cartoon is. “Spiderman” and it was all good before he started trying to use his kagune, really similar to Kaneki’s, as spider’s legs to hang himself from the ceiling. Hide approved; Kaneki not. 

What skills their parents try to pass down to them. Kaneki manages to pass down his love for reading and the kid really devours books one after the other, even some that are incredibly tough for young kids, and even how to draw. When Hide tries to bring him to the dark side of his favorite songs, though, the kid deems them ‘ugly’ and goes back to reading and drawing with his other father. Hide still can accept he didn’t manage to pass his musical tastes down to the next generation, but at least he slowly manages to transmit his ability to make disgusting coffee-that-shouldn’t-even-be-called-dirty-water despite the good ingredients Kaneki provides.

What their future might be. He’s going to be a librarian. He wants to create a library that can work as Re: does, but in another yard. Kaneki calls him thrice per day and if he just as much as miss a call - whatever the reason - he finds his fathers at his door in no time and they usually refuse to leave for at least a week.

The family - 

Who the child’s godparents are. Touka for Kaneki’s part was kind of a given, but when Hide asked Nishio even after all that happened everybody was a bit confused. Hide shrugged it off with a “I was told far too many times about how he fought for Kimi. If there’s anyone I want to take care of my kid if something happens to us, is someone who is willing to get to those extents for their loved ones”. Kaneki didn’t oppose and Nishio grumbled but didn’t refuse. Kimi turned out to be the sweetest aunt Akio could hope to get.

Do their parents plan on giving them any siblings? No, for as much as they would love to. Kaneki wished he could have had at least three kids and enjoy bringing them up, but he’s far too realistic and Hide doesn’t want to push him. To have Akio has been a miracle itself already, but one should not push his luck. Kaneki doesn’t want to bring other kids in his world, if he can let them have a good life.

What is the child’s first pet? Does Hide count? Because Kaneki has found him more than once with Akio sitting on his back and riding him as a “unicorn”, or making him bark and fetch the ball like a dog, or howl with him at the moon - in full day - so… yeah, Hide is Akio’s first pet.

How do they get along with any extended family members? There’s a silent agreement in the circle of friends around Nagachika and Ken “Hide is an idiot, Kaneki is freaking too overprotective and Akio is the best to protect but not too much”. Everybody would die for the kid, though, so yeah, they get along nicely.

This was so good to write and KANEKI DESERVES A HAPPY FAMILY!

tails & talons - bumpy ride

This was supposed to be a short one, but now it’s almost 5k words? Oh well I wanted to give you something nice, and because today is the first Nalu Week bonus day, I thought I’d kick my own butt and finish it! ^-^
nalu week | bonus day 1 : shine

(Also the collab is coming along nicely. Very nicely. I’ve got 37 pages on my part so far,a nd the other two have around 60! :o We will be done fairly soon! Probably for nalu week hehe. Look forward to it. :> )

Part (22) of my NaLu Florist/Tattooartist AU series
read on ff.net: here
check out the amazing art for this fic: here
read more chapters: here

The exhaust pipe puffed out a small cloud of smoke as the machine chugged along the roadside and turned onto a small, bumpy path, where it finally came to a halt. A wall of trees made further advance impossible - at least for anything with wheels attached.

“Why are we stopping?” Lucy called over the noise of the motor. She was answered with an indecipherable mumble jumble.

“Whaat?” Natsu turned the key, and with a last little roar, the motorbike came to a complete standstill. She could hear the motor sizzling  as it began to cool off; could feel the heat that radiated from it and warmed her calves. “Because it looks nice,” Natsu repeated, voice still raised.

Lucy clutched at her ears and smacked his back. “No need to shout now, you idiot.”

He just laughed, jumping off the bike in one swift motion. With a surprised shriek, Lucy clutched at his arm, in fear that her feet alone would not be enough to keep the machine standing. They barely reached the ground.

But of course, Natsu had kept his hands on the handlebar, propping the machine upright even as it inclined heavily towards him. In a desperate flurry, accompanied by his laughter, Lucy scrambled off the machine.

She had sat on it as the motor had roared and the landscape had passed by in a blur, and its power instilled a great amount of respect and terror inside her.

Now that her feet stood on safe, solid ground again, she felt euphoria creep into every fiber of her being. The rush of adrenaline surged through her once more, and she found herself beaming at Natsu.

“This was awesome!” she called out, and then, as logic returned to her, added, “terrifying - but awesome.”

Keep reading

gomboc123  asked:

Ooooohhh if you're still doing those starter prompt things, could you do royai for "You're worth any fight."?

“I need you” sentence starters

Thanks, Rhiannon!! <3 So just a bit after you gave me this prompt, the wonderful @riza-hawkqueen answered an ask in regards to a palette challenge. Her art was so beautiful and gorgeous that I just had to combine the prompt with it. I hope you don’t mind!!! Also, there’s no way Roy didn’t get through that day without a broken bone or two, so I incorporated that in as well (even though I’ve forgotten to do so in my other Promised Day fics lololol it’s fine). This is mostly just a drabble, but I might expand it at some point, idk.

“You’re worth any fight.”

“Lieutenant.” The Colonel’s voice was soft, but firm, and made Riza stop dead in her tracks. “Are you alright?”

She debated this; yes, she was alive, yes, she was breathing, but was she alright? Every part of her ached, her torn shoulder and neck most of all. The emotions she had painstakingly blocked all day were beginning to press at her stomach, and bile surged up into her throat. She swallowed it back with a grimace, disgusted with herself for being grateful that her Colonel could not currently see.

But her body betrayed her; her muscles tensed and shook, and her grip on the Colonel loosened momentarily. Riza cleared her throat (which proved to be a very bad idea when she tasted blood) and replied, “Yes, sir. I’m just fine.” Her voice made a peculiar pop through the last words, and suddenly she was on fire. Though Roy held her under his arm so they could support one another through their blood loss and his broken bones, a ravenous sense of longing for him roared within her, and all she could think was I need him to be here I need him to be okay I need him to be real.

With no warning the sobs burst from her and threatened to take her away completely. That awful conglomeration of pain, fear, and anguish surged through her veins and she could feel the panic soaking every inch of her. Half formed apologies and futile pleadings spilled from her mouth as Roy gathered her into his arms and quieted her, murmuring words of love and kindness into her ear. Riza could feel his tears falling onto her head, and she knew he needed this as much as she did.

“I’m sorry,” she heard him whisper, so broken and afraid, and her heart shattered. The shards settled in her stomach, and she instinctively held Roy tighter.

“Don’t be. You’re worth any fight.”