night and her daughter sleep

Day 2- Sunrise: Before Dawn

Series: Fairy Tail

Pairing: Gruvia

Rating: K

Genres: Romance and Fluff

Words: 828

Read on Ao3 and FF.Net


Juvia awoke in the morning curled up against her husband after a full night of sleep. Their youngest daughter was only just beginning to make it through nights without a fuss, and the feeling of being so well-rested was both foreign and welcome. That being said, she had still awoken before dawn. It was taking some time to get back on a comfortable schedule.

As she snuggled closer to Gray, she felt him shift as well. He turned to face her, eyes foggy with sleep. “‘Morning.”

Juvia smiled. “Good morning.”

“How’d you sleep?”

Juvia took a deep breath, stretching her shoulders and pulling herself farther from her dreams. “Mmm. Good. Too good. Juvia feels like she hasn’t moved in a decade.”

Gray smirked. “Or a full night.”

“Something like that.” Juvia closed her eyes again, leaning into Gray as he wrapped an arm around her. “What about you?”

His words came in a warm breath against her ear that drew a smile to her lips. That her ice mage could be so comfortable never ceased to amuse her. “Fine. I woke up a few times expecting a crying toddler or two, but nothing. I thought I’d woken you up a bit too.”

Juvia glanced up. “Really?’ Her brow furrowed. “Juvia doesn’t remember.”

“That’s good. It means you were probably just talking in your sleep. As usual.”

“Juvia thought she didn’t do that anymore.”

“I think it was just that you weren’t fully falling asleep for five years straight.”

Juvia made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan and nuzzled closer to her husband. “Agh. No more babies.”

Gray made a noise of agreement, tracing his hand down her hair. “Never thought I’d hear that from you. What happened to thirty?”

“Three is enough. Not to mention all our nieces and nephews. Juvia loves our children so much she doesn’t think she has any more room in her heart.”

“Even for me?”

“Of course for you. You were the first.”

Juvia swore she could feel the pride raise in his chest. “Still, I’m pretty sure you’ll always have more room, anyway.”

“Hmm. That might be true. Natsu and Lucy are expecting again after all.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Another one of those brats running around.” But she heard the teasing in his voice.

“Oh, be nice. You adore Nashi.”

“Ur doesn’t.”

“Oh, yes she does. She just doesn’t want to admit it.” Juvia sighed wistfully. “Juvia knows how these things go. Enemies to friends, friends to lovers,” The daydreams drew her as far from sleep as she could be as she sat up to face the dawn. “I can already see their wedding.”

“Juvia, they’re five.”

“It’s never too soon to fall in love.”

Gray didn’t answer, only gazed at the ceiling, an arm still around her waist. She guessed her was still somewhat asleep, even as sunlight began to stream through their bedroom window.

“Gray-sama, look,” She touched his face softly, encouraging him to sit up and follow her gaze.

“It’s dawn.”

“Isn’t the sunrise beautiful?” Juvia’s eyes glowed.

“I guess. It happens every morning.”

Juvia smirked and faced him. Juvia sees Gray-sama every morning and you’re still just as beautiful.” His blush and grunt of acknowledgement made her giggle, despite all the years she had seen such a reaction. “Besides. When’s the last time we’ve gotten to watch it like this?” She leaned back against his chest. “We’re always sleeping like the dead or tending to the children.”

Gray only hummed in response, relaxing against her. They rarely got a moment like this, serene and safe, between time spent with their children and fighting with the guild. Juvia swore she’d almost forgotten the feeling, and she treasured it even more for that reason, no less than she treasured the rising sun itself, unhidden by the clouds and the rain.

No less than she treasured her family, who very suddenly and all at once were barging into her room. Ur, their eldest, was holding onto River in the way that young older sisters do, barely able to contain the baby girl that was now nearly half her size. Their brother trailed behind them.

“Mama, River’s awake now, we wanna go to the guild!”

Gray nearly groaned as the quiet peace was broken. Juvia only held slightly more self control. “Oh, darlings, wouldn’t you rather sit with Mama and Papa and watch the sunrise?”

Ur pouted fiercely and impatiently. “We can watch it at the guild, I wanna beat Nashi there!”

Gray gave her a long suffering look, but rolled out of bed after she flashed him a warm smile that told him she had given in to their children’s pleads, as usual.

Their life was anything but relaxing now, and Juvia doubted it ever would be again, at least not for any longer than a few fleeting moments. But it was bright now, and beautiful, fulfilled by their family and their guild, shining beneath dawn-coloured sky.

A Mothers Love

Jaimie Lannister knew his oaths. Had repeated them over and over in his head while the King raped his wife when he burnt ‘traitors’ alive. He had repeated them over and over again while he watched Elia Martell keep her chin high and eyes clear of tears as her Goodfather brutalized her with his words: of her brown skin and brown blood.

He knew his oaths.

But he was tired of them.

He knew his oaths and he was keeping them.

His oath to little Rhaenys when he told her that his job was to keep them safe. And so, in the middle of the night he had packed Elia Martell and her daughter, still sleeping, and given her son a drop of dreamwine to keep his cries at bay. She stared at him with terror and joy, and he carted her away with the last of her handmaidens. He paid the barn keeper enough gold to escape as well: for the King would burn anyone caught in this ploy.

And he rode off into the night, Elia before him, clutching her small babe to her chest and Rhaenys before her handmaidens. They rode until the sun came up and kept riding until the babe began to cry. But it mattered not, for they had made it to the Reach and hid. He gave them all bland dresses, coverings for their faces and he traded his armor for leathers and then they were off again, moving faster than comfortable. But Elia Martell did not complain. She hushed her babe before her, she quieted Rhaenys curiosity. And they rode and they rode and they rode.

Jaimie Lannister may have been an oathbreaker.

But the look on Elia Martell’s face when she passed through to Dorne, was enough for him.

For he’d never seen a woman so grateful, a woman so kind and loving to her children as his mother. But he only remembered her golden hair and green eyes.

He did not think of Cersei: because that ached and burned in his gut.

He did not think of the sister that he loved, more like a lover than a sister, because he knew that everything she had ever done was for her: not for him. And when he’d seen the joy and love that Elia had for her son and daughter, he thinks he prefers that to the alternative of a selfish lover he seemed to be addicted to, rather than in love with.

And so he forced her from his mind.

And he continued to Sunspear.


Tywin Lannister dies a bloody and vicious death. Or so he hears. He stays in Dorne, as Princess Elia’s and Queen Rhaella’s sworn sword. Lady Lyanna is brought to Sunspear, once Elia and Rhaella are told of what is true.

She is not treated unkindly, though there is a fire and fear in the girls eyes that reminds Elia of her brother, who is off to war. The girl is nearing her end of her pregnancy, and protects the babe fiercely. But Elia shows her kindness in simple ways.

He will be a Royal Bastard, of course, but she has a birthing outfit made for him of the grey of the Starks. Lyanna almost cries when she sees it: but she does fall to her knees and beg Elia forgiveness.

But Elia only smiles.

“There is nothing to forgive, child.”

Because she is a child. She’s not even sixteen yet, and won’t be when she births her first child. Her hips are a bit too small, and she carries the babe with issue. Much like Elia had with Aegon.

Elia promises to protect him as a Sand should the time come of it. She promises to pass him off as Oberyn’s son, though he’s not given her permission to. But she knows her brother, and he’ll do as she wills. Rhaella only watches with ghost-like eyes.

“I never wanted to marry him,” she tells them both. Her voice is not what it was even five years ago, when Elia first met her. She has scars over her back and her neck and chest. But not her face: the only place that his wickedness had not poisoned. “I was in love with another.” She tells them. “And after Rhaegar, Shaena, and Daeron, I begged him to stop.” Lyanna wept for her, silently. “And then he forced me Aegon, Jaehaerys, and Viserys. I loved them all: Rhaegar’s melancholy, Shaena’s beautiful smile, Daerons laughter, Aegon’s beautiful violet eyes, Jaehaerys dimples, and Visery’s inquisitiveness. But now I only have Rhaegar, Viserys, and the child I bare.” She had whispered. “He forced me, child after child, to bare him children. I bore him so many stillborn children…” She began to laugh, shaking her head. “And still, after I’d done everything he asked, he broke the one promise he made to me.”

Madness, Elia and Lyanna understood. Her one promise she got from him was that he would not succumb to the madness. She kept her promise, but he could not keep his.


Lyanna gives birth to a beautiful baby boy. He has dark hair and grey eyes. A solemn face and Rhaella weeps that it is like Rhaegar’s. Elia wants to agree, but Lyanna is sure when she says no.

“No, he looks like Ned. My sweet brother,” she says through her tears before he is taken from her. The Maester spends three days with her, nursing her back to life.

Lyanna will never bare children again, the Maesters tell her. She’ll be weak for the remainder of her life. But she is grateful, for that. Even if they wonder if he’s a Targaryen, he looks nothing like his true father. And never again will Lyanna be forced to marry a man she does not want. But little Jon, Lyanna decides, looks so much like the North it quells her fears.

Rhaenys may have had her mother’s dark coloring and hair, but her face and her indigo eyes were her father’s. As well as her shape. In truth: she didn’t look anything like Elia. And Aegon, with his beautiful blonde hair and indigo eyes, was a picture of his father.

But little Jon looked like Lyanna, and perhaps even a bit of Rhaegar’s solemness, too. But he was of Stark coloring. And Targaryen had strong blood, but it seemed he was meant to be more Stark, if anything.

It would be said that Rhaegar may have stolen her, but to all that would look upon her bastard son, they would see Stark.

Ser Arthur Dayne says that his own sister gives birth to a girl, of the same coloring. But his sister cannot bare to look at her. No: she like little Jon, is all Stark.

Lyanna says she wants her. She wants her niece, all that she has left of Brandon.

Elia begs Doran to allow it, and he cannot deny her.

And so together, with Rhaella, Elia, and Lyanna, they burrow together with the last of their children. Viserys does not understand it, but Jaimie and Ser Arthur Dayne take great care in re-wiring all the evil that his Mad Father has instilled in him.

She names the nameless girl Elianna. Elia smiles, but she comes to rest against her as they watch the children all around. Viserys is gentle with Rhaenys as they both play Queen and King to little Princes and Princesses.

Rhaella watches from afar, but her body slowly wastes away in what will be her last pregnancy. Elia and Lyanna pray every morning, every lunch, and night that she will survive.

But Rhaella is glad to almost be done.

For she has suffered far too long.


Jon and Elianna Sand could be twins, Lyanna decides on the day that they say the war is over. Elianna has hair curled to her scalp, and Jon has it as well. His eyes are grey while hers are Violet, like her mother’s. She wonders, idly, if she is more Targaryen then he. But she knows she is her brother’s daughter. She has beautiful dimples and makes Jon smile more than anyone else can. (Except Rhaenys, of course, but that little girl could make a dying cynic grin like it was his happiest day.) Viserys is a bit jealous, but he will have Dragonstone, Rhaella assures him. Their ancient home, stemmed in magic and old blood. For that, he seems excited. He begs goodsister Elia to show him to be a good Lordling, and she smiles sweetly and promises him that she will.

Rhaegar is dead and so is Robert, but the Targaryens and Baratheons are not. It is Jaimie who kills the King, in the end, on Rhaella and Elia’s decision. They call him Kingslayer, but behind closed doors Elia kisses him and tells him that he is her Knight. Cersei hates him: but she is married to Jon Arryn. She quickens twins quickly. It’s a good thing, as well, because Jon Arryn is slowly dying. Lysa Tully is married to  Robert Baratheon’s younger brother, Stannis. Cersei is furious, Elia knows. But she also knows that Stannis would have had her thrown her out of Storm End quickly, had he known her straying ways.

Rhaella takes the crown, but names Aegon and Elia as her successor, bypassing Viserys who she knows is just too vulnerable for the throne. She rules with Lyanna, as well, who will stay in King’s Landing, with Jon and Elianna. Lyanna, behind the scenes, mends the broken ties between the North and South. It is painful, but Elia protected Lyanna more than anyone else. And she was a Dornish woman, the most Southron of them all. And she had protected her more than she deserved.

Ned weeps when he sees his sister, frail and young, two babes by her side. She cannot lift a sword as she once did, nor perform archery, but she can sing and she can love her son and niece. And so that is what she tells him that she will do.

“Little Jon and Sweet Elianna,” she introduces him. “My son and Brandon’s daughter. I need to stay here: with Elia. After it all, this is what I owe her.” Ned begs her, but she only shakes her head. “Come to the Capitol with my nieces and nephews, when you have them. I cannot travel very far anymore, brother.”

He stayed with her for days, before he set back home.

The realm was not settled, but she was glad that it had fallen this way, instead of another.


Daenerys Stormborn was born in the middle of a hurricane. With her, brought the death of her mother. But it was peaceful. She held Daenerys and Viserys and told him all the things she loved him for. All the things she thought him great for. She told him the man she wanted him to be: kind, gracious, reasonable, and loving. She told him that things would be different from now on, but that he was to take care of his sister.

There were tears, of course. The little boy had no mother or older brother or father. But he was sweet, sweeter than Aerys had ever been. And that, Rhaella thought, that was all she wanted. A sweet son. She had seen too many of her children die. But she knew, as Viserys molded himself around what she wanted for him, that Viserys would take care of her Daenerys.

“I promise Dany,” he murmured as he kissed her crown of silver blonde hair. “I promise I will be a good brother.”

And Rhaella fell asleep. But she never woke up.


Jon would have the Tower of Joy, Doran had declared, when the boy came of age of course. He would take a new name and he would serve Dorne. Elianna, as she got older, would decide on marriage or perhaps another path. But the way that Oberyn Martell planned to train her, she prayed that she lived a life of freedom like Oberyn raised his daughters, rather than how Lyanna had been raised.

Aegon would be King, but Rhaenys not his wife. It felt like a cheat, to Elia, but she did not speak against it. Not for the lack of marriage, but because Rhaenys was the true Queen. But it seemed that the future laid before them was still a restrictive one.

Rhaenys would marry Willas Tyrell, Aegon a Northern bride, hopefully, should Ned Stark ever father a daughter. Even Jon, perhaps, would marry and become a Lord. Although he loved to lie beside Dany, and beside him was the only way that she would sleep fitfully through the night. Elianna, of course, was the easy babe. A happy one too. Daenerys was sweet, but a bit shier. Between Elia and Lyanna, they nursed their babes at their own breasts. Elia often wondered what would become of her, the only living daughter of Aerys the Mad. But for now, Elia, Lyanna, and Rhaella’s babes would be raised together, with Ashara Dayne’s child. It was all she could do for the poor woman who had fallen to the mothers melancholy. Perhaps one day it would fade and she would wish to see Elianna again. But they were together and  at least this ending, was sweet.

anonymous asked:

If you're still doing the flower prompts, would you consider Kingcup (youth, innocence, dawn) for Garp and the Shanks/Makino family? I was taken with the image of a long retired Garp handling baby Ace in 'A New Tide In An Old Bottle'. And mildly amused once I considered that a retired Shanks can longer avoid Garp whenever he visits Foosha village.

A PORT AND FOUR WALLS // shanks x makino // kingcup; youth, innocence, dawn (I love writing this family, anon, bless you for requesting this)

It’s a commonly held belief that retirement brings peace – the chance to sit back and relax, a legacy sowed and reaped, and little of the sea to contend with other than the occasional tide, and news from abroad.

Of course, sometimes the tide brings more than just news and sea foam.

“Garp called,” Makino announces one morning, before he’s even finished walking down the stairs. “He’s coming for a visit.”

Sleep deprived with a six-day beard and baby sling in place, Shanks just looks at her – notes her cheerful smile and perky, up-with-the-sun-even-with-a-screaming-infant-at-the-breast disposition, and tries to remember the many horrors he’s lived through on the sea that have had worse odds than this. He comes up short.

“Is it too late for me to un-retire and go back to pirating?” he asks, and spares an idle thought to how far he could get by rowboat with one arm. “We could bring the kids.”

Keep reading

You’re only human.

Draco had always known he wanted to have a child, wife, and a beautiful home. He envisioned his future world where his son would look up to him, similar to how he had done with his own. That his son would forgive him for the terrible things he had once done, that when he shared that part of him that he had done enough good in his life to be seen as a good father. 

The day he was handed Scorpius he felt as though a part of him awakened, an instant emotion cascading through his blood as he stared down at the pale baby in his arms. Watching with each day as his son laughed, cried, giggled and smiled. 

Draco would be lying to say he didn’t struggle with being in his own mind, a good father because he did. There were nights where his wife would come down their stairs, take the tumbler of Firewhiskey from his hand and escort him to bed. Holding and whispering all the right things that convinced him to sleep and leave the self-loathing behind him. With each milestone reached a new level of hatred rising in himself, reprimanding him for having the life he had that he did not deserve. With each candle blown out with each passing year his son asked him far more questions and he dreaded internally him ever asking what he was like as a child. 

Truthfully he knew he had been a rotten child. He had been vile, cruel and obnoxious. He had tortured, near killed fellow students and participated in the killing of an innocent man. By definition, he was a bad person, undeserving of a wife who loved him immensely and a child who wished to be like him. 

And then they were told of a second blessing, a blessing that they never thought they would have, knowing their troubles with having Scorpius. 

They were pregnant again. 

Their pregnancy was different than the previous, her cravings and her manner changed. Draco watched on helplessly as she insisted upon caring for Scorpius without help, the toddler tiring her immensely with each passing day. He helped where he could, trying to bottle his emotions and worries about telling not one child, but two what he had done. 

“Am I not asking too much? For too much understanding?” Draco asked his wife one night in bed.

“I think you need to look in the mirror and see the person you’ve become. The person you was would not be in this bed with me, would not have a son and another child on the way. I don’t think you’re asking too much Draco,” her eyes meeting his as she turned on the pillow to face him, “I actually don’t even think you have to ask for anything, you made this life yourself, you weren’t given it.”

He found peace in her words but it never felt enough to shake his worries, deciding to be a good husband and care for his family. His daughter Lyra came into the world a few weeks after their talk in bed. A beauty he never thought he’d see. He came to find that his initial woes of having a baby girl washed away when her first word was “ da-da”, her bright grey eyes on him as she thrust her pale arms up in the air as she swept down to retrieve her. He found himself wrapping her in his arms, playing tea parties and dress up with her just to see her smile. 

Even with all of this, a part of him never fully felt whole, he assumed this was to do with his own baggage and view of the world. But when his wife collapsed, his hand wrapped around her frail fingers, her sparkling eyes staring at him full of questions and fear he felt it vanish. Finally accepting what was done was done, that he couldn’t allow this sadness and loathing to ruin any more moments. Draco found something inside of himself that made him able to be there for his wife, telling her the right things, doing the right things. The Healer coming in, his brain already thinking the worst as he was told of their third blessing. A miracle by any means as their previous two pregnancies had done a number on his wife’s body. 

She wasn’t as able this time around, something he knew his wife struggled with as she had always prided herself on being ready to conquer anything thrown at her. Her own deep seeded inadequacy causing them both to argue. Their fights starting as something small, that would twist and morph into their own worst fears until he saw the droplets of tears down her face and held her close. That he was failing her. Failing to make her feel like the Queen she was, it eating away at him until he became frustrated and near destroyed the nursery that had taken days to build.

But she came back to him. Her arms wrapped around him as he pathetically sobbed into the brave woman he loved. Her hands on either side of his cheeks, her eyes firmly staring into his as she said,

“You are only human Draco, you made a mistake. If you do not forgive yourself, if you do not try to let it go, it will eat you alive day by day. Use your mistakes as a platform to be better, not to pull yourself down into the depths you made them in..” 

That night he lay listening to her sleep, his arm around their daughter after a nightmare, their son eventually sneaking in and laying between them. The moonlight cascading over his family. He thought back to her kind words when he wished to write how sorry he was for the hurt he had caused those at school. How brave she was as she met his parents and stood firmly as they bashed her for being less than they expected. How kind she was to each person that ridiculed her for standing by him, for loving him. 

And as the following day, their third miracle was born into the world early he held his wife’s damp hand. Crouching down close to her ear as she looked at him scared for their small baby wrapped in pink blankets, her tiny breaths that sounded pained and forced.

“You, my love make me happy in a way no one else ever could or can. You have given me more than I ever thought I wanted or deserved,” his finger stroking softly their youngest daughters tiny cheek. His eyes moving back to his wife’s. “It may have taken me a decade to realise this but without you I am weak, alone I can do so little, but together we can do so much… we, together, can get through this.”

“You really mean that?” she asked, her eyes full of fear and woe at the prospect of their youngest child’s survival. 

“I really do,” Draco smiled.  “She’s a fighter, we need to fight for her.”

For the first time in their ten years of marriage, he was truly present. Having forgiven himself and accepting that he too deserves to be happy.

Headcanon that dudley’s daughter cries to sleep the night she gets her hogwarts letter because grandma thinks she’s a freak and grandpa wouldn’t want to visit anymore, but uncle harry calls her and tells her all about the magical world and everything she can do and all the adventures she will go through and that she will be with james and albus and they would make sure she’s okay all the time,then ron takes the phone and is like “don’t worry about what your grandma thinks, she though harry was a freak and he saved the world”.

Okay, the last Naruto chapter lacked in many interactions we’d like to see, but it left so many doors open for us to wonder and imagine

cause imagine:

 - Naruto and Himawari, cause you know Himawari is the sweestest thing, that shows Naruto her drawings, Naruto would freaking melt and hang her drawings everywhere and kiss the tip of her tiny nose and make her giggle

- Hinata and Boruto, cause he’s a little brat with Naruto, but with his mother, he’d be so sweet I’m sure and hug her whenever he can (okay maybe not in front of his friends, but at home where it’s safe) he’ll be a momma’s boy I am sure

- Naruto coming home one night, pretty late because of all the work, and he just drops on a chair, exhausted, and Hinata comes behind and massages his tense shoulders and kisses the top of his head and he just melts. Then he asks about the kids and she says they’re in bed already, and he goes and kisses their sleeping children goodnight.

- Sasuke coming back after being who the fuck knows where doing who the fuck knows what, and Sarada kind gives his the cold treatment. Not exactly ignoring, but kind of ‘i don’t care about you’ attitude. Sasuke pretending it doesn’t bother him, but on the inside he’s crushed…

- Sakura wrapping her arms around Sasuke and kissing his cheek saying that Sarada will eventually forget about it

- Sasuke subtly trying to win Sarada’s affection back, going like 'sarada do you want me to teach *insert some ninja thing*?’; 'i kinda bought this book during my trip, I already read it, so you can have it if you want’

- Sarada finally giving in, and Sakura comes home one night to find her daughter in her hudband’s lap, both sleeping and open book on her lap and it’s adorable

- Sarada loves to play with little Himawari, so she goes to her house many times, but first stalking the house to make sure Boruto is not there, cause he’s annoying

- Boruto getting jealous when Himawari starts talking a lot about Sarada, cause 'himawari’s my little sister, not yours!! Get your own!!’

- Sakura and Ino hanging out at the house of one of them, and their kids doing homework together, cause Sarada and Inojin look like the kind of kids who do don’t fuck around in school. Sarada calling Ino aunt Ino, and Inojin calling Sakura aunt Sakura *u*

- The new Ino-Shika-Chou generation hanging out. Inojin constantly stressing cause the other two don’t seem to want do much, but 'Shino-sensei said we should practice this’ or 'mom said we have to learn this’ and the other two are like 'naaaah’, and he’s like 'whyyyy’ (okay we don’t have to imagine this one, it happened, but imagine it happening constantly)

- Shikadai being lazy like his father, but at the same time bossy like his mother, so he’s just like just sitting there, doing nothing, but always having comments like 'no you’re doing it wrong’, 'it’s not like this, it’s like that’, and the other two going insane sometimes, cause 'WHY DON’T YOU DO IT THEN?’

- Shikadai playing Shogi with his uncle Gaara, cause with his dad it’s boring, cause he can never win, but he loves to play it, so Gaara indulges him

- Shikamaru coming home one night tired and frustrated cause Naruto messed something up and he had to stay with him to fix it, and Temari is like 'oh yeah I know how to cheer you up’ and sitting on his lap, going for a hot kiss, but then she notices Shikadai standing there by the door staring, and she’s like 'GODDAMMIT why aren’t you in bed sleeping’ and Shikamaru growning and thinking 'I’m going to send him to the sand village to his uncles for a week or something’

- Kiba is Boruto’s and Himawari’s cool uncle and they love him and akamaru and akamaru’s spawn. He’d be so great playing with them.

- Shino being the weird uncle. But Himawari loves him and she gives him flowers for him and his bugs and Shino definitely tears up, cause she is so sweet and she never forgets him and she pays attention to everything he says

- Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke dumping their kids on Kakashi one day (maybe they go on a double date, maybe they just want their kids to bond with Kakashi) and Kakashi being so done, because Boruto and Sarada are like Naruto and Sasuke at the beginning all over again and he’s too old for that shit now. Himawari is a cute little thing, but she’s so curious, and he has to keep a close eye on her, cause she could dive into his shuriken drawer

- Ino still works at the flower shop ocasionally, and she teached Sai about flowers and how to make arrangements and he actually loved it, so he works for the shop when he has time free as well

3

Waking up one morning to find your child gone must be one of the most atrocious experiences a parent can live. So it’s not hard to imagine what Louise Bell’s parents felt when the morning of January 4th, 1983, they realized their 10 year old daughter had disappeared during the night. Her sister, who’d been sleeping in the same room, hadn’t woken up, but the open window and other signs pointed to an intruder.

A few days later, a man called a woman who lived in the same neighborhood than the Bells, in Hackam West, South Australia. He told her that he had Louise, that she was happy with him, but she needed medical help. He implied the girl had been raped. To prove what he was saying, the man told this woman where to find Louise’s earrings, hidden in a particular spot. The same woman later found the pajamas Louise had been wearing the night she went missing neatly folded on her lawn.

At the time, this evidence didn’t lead anywhere, and Louise’s case went cold. A known peadophile named Raymond John Geesing was at one point convicted of the crime, but later acquitted. Then, in 1990, a likely suspect appeared. Dieter Pfennig, a math and science teacher who lived in the same neighborhood than Louise, was convicted of the abduction and murder of Michael Black (10), who’d disappeared while fishing. Pfennig also confessed to abducting and raping a 13 year old. He was sentenced to life for those crimes.

It took more than 15 years to find concrete evidence to tie him to Louise’s case, though. New DNA techniques were able to find his in the girl’s pajamas. Pfennig is currently on trial for her murder, and has pled not guilty. Among the witnesses against him are his own daughter and a prison mate who said Pfennig had told him about the murder and that he’d hid her body in the same place as Michael Black’s, who’s never been found, but that he didn’t see a point in telling the location since he’s spending his life in jail anyway.

For Leelah (complete)

If I should have a son,
who one day comes to me and tells me
of the daughter living in those bones -
the flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood
I will take her chin in gentle hands
and kiss her forehead with soft lips.
I will whisper nothing but,
“You are beautiful.
You are beautiful.
You are beautiful.”
I will bury the ashes of my shattered son,
and rise on the wings of my phoenix-born girl.
I will speak her chosen name with confidence -
I will say it like a prayer each night as I tuck her in to sleep.


If I should have a daughter,
who one day comes to me and says
there is a boy breathing with those lungs  -
the ones I built, cell by cell
that this chest is heavy with excess tissue,
I will show him how to bind it safely, and
when he says that this hair grows far too long,
I will be the first to grab the scissors.
….Then grab the keys, and take him to a barber
who can fix the mess I made -
When I made this body with my own,
When I lost the blueprints of the person he was meant to be
He helped me find them, years after the project was considered
a completed success, helped me realize that I am not
a perfect architect, but that accidents can be beautiful -
My son is not a mistake. Will never be a mistake
I pray
that he will know, always know,
I will move heaven and earth to keep him safe.


If I should someday have a child, who fails to fit into society’s
cookie-cutter boxes of gender conformity,
I will not blame them for breaking the mold,
will not agonize their excess, or lament them not enough.
I will pull out my old photos, teach them words like
genderqueer and androgyne.
I will learn a new language – new pronouns
falling from my lips like drops of rain onto parched soil,
and they will grow.

Above all,
My children will grow.