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crownprincey · 2 years

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Ward Of The RevanHead (preview)

Alternative Universe: Canon diverse.

Adoptive father sasuke, son boruto.

There was something seriously haunting about taking in the child of you best friend that died. But here he was in front of a young boy barely eight. Looking at him with his big dull eyes. According to sakura, they were once bright sparkly blue. But what he saw was dull and liveless blue.

He was shorter for his age, tiny. Oval shaped faced that was taken from his mother. He was also slim but well feed. Small nose also taken from his mother. Light blond hair that painfully reminded sasuke of his now dead friend. Plum colourless lips and of course the uzumaki whiskers.

Sasuke had never met boruto before that cursed night. So he wasnt really aware how the kid was. He only gathered small information from sakura while leaving the villiage with that said kid. Neither was he good with children for obvious reasons. His criminal past..

The first thing he realised in the first week of living and raising the kid is that he was fond of stars. It started a routine of both of them just sitting in silence looking at the stars, stargazing. He once or twise glanced at the boy looking at the shiny sky. Finally understanding what sakura meant by bright sparky blue eyes. But that eyes were short lived as they turned dull again.

After putting boruto to bed. The young boy woke up from a nightmare. His eyes dull and liveless. Of course sasuke was no stranger to trauma. especially the trauma of losing loved once. So he tried comfort. But to no avail. Boruto denied any comfort he presented to him.

The next thing he figured about boruto is that he likes taking afternoon naps. Sasuke has never slept throughout afternoons. But he gave it a try. Surprisingly. It helped with his resting systerm. But with afternoon naps fullfilling the sleep. He than found another fact about his adoptive son ward

Boruto enjoyed morning walks. Sasuke and him still didnt talk much but walking in silence was calming. It was still cool outside. The sun rising, it felt soothing. Sasuke liked the new changes. He only wished he could do the same for boruto.

Food was a tricky thing. Boruto seem to be a little picky of what he ate. Neither was he vocal about what he likes. Sasuke only knew two things he enjoyed eating ramen. Which sasuke rolled his eyes at once figuring that out. Of course, he was naruto's son afterall. And hamburger's. Making boruto eat green veggies was not that hard. But it was obvious the boy didnt like his cooking. He had to purchase a children cooking manual. One thing he also released that boruto seemed to love lime juice. Even better if with ice cubes.

When rainy season came along, he found out a fact loud and clear. Boruto hated thunderstroms. The boy was shaking and shivering. So much it broke the mans heart. Boruto seemed to hate lighting and fire. Ironically, they were sasuke's main element.

Sasuke wasnt sure if he wanted or should he train boruto. According to sakura. Boruto was given hyuga training. Other than that, the boy is defenseless. And he would be damned if his son ward ended up defenseless against an enemy. Sasuke thought it throught for a long time. And then decided that he will in fact train boruto.

The first day of training he deemed boruto to be okay in hand to hand combat. Not so good but not bad for his age. The hyuga trainig was showing thats for sure. Boruto seemed to be better at aiming. Throwing ninja stars and kunai with good vision for his age. He realised boruto is weak in hand to hand combat but with weapons like a kunai he is good. He ended up purchasing alot of ninja training gear. Boruto had a light body, thus easy for him to jump and attack. Sasuke decided to let that be his greatest pro.

Boruto loved rainy days strangly he loved training while it was raining too. He said it felt good having nature drop itself on you while doing something. Sasuke didnt really get what boruto ment by that. But whatever helps the kid. Boruto seemed more calm and the nightmares seemed to stop to a degree when rain is pouring. Boruto showed him how to build a fort. He told him his father and he used to build a fort with pillows around rainy season and just relax. Sasuke was happy that boruto was now comfortable to share this information with him. Also realised how good of a job his late friend did while raising the child.

They made a big pillow fort after that and sasuke and boruto ended up sleeping inside the fort for the night. Listening to the rain drop. Boruto liked reading, but he was more interested in action and horror. Surprising for a eight year old. Sasuke ended up gifting many action and horror comics to boruto. That they read inside the fort. It was the most relaxed sasuke had been since his childhood.

Boruto didnt seem to like music alot. Even if he hears them. He likes soft melody or lullabys. Sharp and speedy music seemed to give him a headcahe. So sasuke was mindful to not make loud noices. Boruto seems to like piano. Probably the only musical thing he liked. So sasuke ended up buying him one and asked iruka-sensei to teach him. In no time. The sound of piano rang throughout the house during the day.

Boruto wasn't good at drawing. Sasuke saw that in a hilarious way. To be honest, he wasn't surprised after all naruto was very bad with drawing and studying himself. Well at least boruto got his mothers side with studying.

There were days when sasuke knew boruto missed his family dearly. The small smile, heavy eyes and stony voice. It all gave it away. It sometimes ended up in an argument. Which always ended up with 'you are not my father! Stop acting like one!'. Kakashi always told him. Not to take it at heart, he was grieving. But that still couldnt stop the small 'i know'. Through their arguments always vanished by the next day. One of them always apologised.

During the winters boruto enjoyed snow cones. They ended up making alot. Sasuke realised that new years was coming soon. A whole year of him having boruto as a son ward.

It was during the new years day, when he truly realised how much of an impact boruto was able to make in a year of living with him. 'you always put faith in me.. Thank you for that' boruto muttered as the new year party they had arranged was put to an end. Sasuke had never felt more achived in his life. I guess this is how a father mentor normally feels.

One thing was sure he was thankful that boruto entered his life. He just wasn't fond of how he came.

#boruto fanfiction #boruto and sasuke #adoption

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hmvw2015 · 6 years

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Last summer’s conversation between my sister and I.

#comic #before and after #a wrinkle in time #movie #disney #markers #last summer #true story #hmvw2015 #hannah van weelden #female artists on tumblr #artists on tumblr #newspaper #yeah #anime sparkles #thunderstrom

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uwhe-arts · 7 years

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escape before the storm … | uwhe-arts

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saepiae · 5 years

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bus smells of wet shoes

sneakers, gym locker, sadness

i cant do this guys

#haiku abt the thunderstrom #services a high scchool before this route #a SPORTS high school

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bananapajama87 · 4 years

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Bend-The-Knee or be Broken

@aphrarepairweek2020 Day 2: Thunderstrom prompt! Super late, but having fun anyway! A friend/crush fic for RusEng! I just love to think about the mechanics of Nations’ free will and I think (other than Germany) Russia is one of the best subjects for a study on it. I hope my ideas came through clearly :) Ivan Braginsky had a well-known and violently documented dislike for “friendly political visits” but the guest room in England’s lavish country estate had always been one of his least favourite personal hells.

He paced slowly around his confines, inspecting the impersonal velvety decor that he had begrudgingly become familiar with over the centuries. Its careful design was facetiously inviting and desperate to be impressive. ‘Please, make yourself at home!’ the glowing fireplace seemed to say, echoed mockingly by the diamond chandelier who added ‘because I bet you don’t have things nearly so nice back at yours!’ Every country did this of course, but England always managed to be so wonderfully condescending.Ivan bristled. He never slept well in other Nation’s homes, but something in the night air was making him particularly restless. He hadn’t found the peace of mind to even sit down since he had arrived, despite his duties early the next day. Showpony duties, he thought, The dusty to be an amusing little beast, well-trained and pampered to show off how well his masters are doing. He gripped at the hem of the silky pyjamas he had been issued for trips like these. They were so unlike the cotton tank top and shorts that he wore at home. Ivan glanced around the room again and as usual, his eyes were tugged toward the monstrously large landscape painting looming above the mantle. It was a mirror image of the view outside the room's large window. Temperate, emerald moors bordered darkly by mysterious, hungry woods. He ran an ungloved hand over his scarred throat and thought about his own rugged taigas and unforgiving tundras. He shook his head. It was tacky of England to have a painting of himself in the guest bedroom, even if it wasn’t a portrait. He stalked out the door to see if he could find somewhere less here to be.

Ivan drifted through the hallways, careful not to step on any creaky floorboards. He was making a circuitous path toward the first-floor sitting room. If he remembered correctly, that fireplace was always burning and had comfortable chairs. It was disquieting to think about how intimately familiar Ivan was with England’s home although they had never really been on first name (or even last name) terms with each other. Not that he was with anyone else either… Maybe he could tire himself out reading old newspapers.

The heavy oak door didn’t creak when Ivan pushed it open. The dying glow of the fire was filling the room with the heavy smell of a quiet night and casting long shadows on the opposite wall. They wavered gently, distorting the shapes of things and making Ivan unsure of where the floor ended and the dark began. Running his hands lightly across the furniture for guidance, he crossed the room silently, coming to a stop in front of the picture window that looked out onto the veranda, and beyond that, those green hills now inky black silhouettes. The moonlight fought valiantly to shine through the thick clouds but was diffused into a mere suggestion of itself. He could smell the humid scent of an oncoming thunderstorm brewing on the other side of the glass.

“Good evening, Russia. Is there something I can do for you?” England’s voice was soft and scratchy with fatigue, and though Ivan would not allow himself to show his surprise outwardly, he felt his heart pick up speed as he turned to look. England was standing in the doorway, hair more dishevelled than usual and an untied housecoat draped over his pyjamas. He was carrying a mug in his hand that seemed to be empty.“No not at all, England. Just trying to admire the stars, but as you can see, it is not my lucky night.” Russia smiled his diplomatic smile and put a gentle pep in his voice that he used for others. He was naturally soft-spoken but he seemed suddenly too loud for the room. England crossed the room deftly, and joined Russia at the window, not needing to try to avoid the furniture in his own house. The top of his head only came up to Russia’s shoulders. “Quite unlucky indeed. A storm’s coming. A big one if I’m not mistaken.” England said, and Ivan knew he was right. His skin had begun tingling with static electricity. They stood in silence, England sipping at the empty mug every so often. Russia sensed that he didn’t know what to do with his hands (or make a graceful exit from the situation now that he had engaged with Ivan). That man had never been able to stop himself from standing on ceremony even if it made him squirm with discomfort as it did now. Ivan chuckled.“What are you giggling about?” England asked, frowning up at Ivan. Ivan looked down at him, his emerald green eyes were glowing with irritation.“Your mug is empty.” Ivan pointed into the empty cup. England’s face went red and he set the mug down quickly on a coffee table and he stuffed his hands in his pockets.

They were quiet for a while and watched the clouds gather.“Why are you awake, England? Surely you weren’t hoping to stargaze too?” Ivan asked, enjoying keeping England trapped here with him. He wouldn’t be only one miserably tired in the morning.

“Oh, you know. Insomnia. You being here and all, I have a lot on my mind. Lots of things being prepared for your stay and all that,” he said airily, gesturing vaguely with his hands. Ivan noticed the deep circles under England’s eyes and wondered how often he was struck with insomnia. He looked much more human now than Ivan had ever seen him in an official capacity. Stubbly, slouching, and underdressed. Somehow, he felt the need to reassure him.

“No need to go to all the trouble. If I am honest, which I seldom am, I hate the pomp. It is… insincere,” Ivan said, making sure to look away from England’s face before his subject could notice his staring. England ran his hands down his face in exasperation and groaned.

“Don’t I know it. It’s tax money and organization and time being put into a show for the measly audience of one,” suddenly England realized what he had said and quickly added: “no offence, Russia.” Ivan couldn’t help but laugh again. England seemed to take that as acceptance and continued. “I don’t know of anyone who really likes that pampering. Except maybe Francis. And Alfred. Those two are a pair of egotistical layabouts if I ever saw some.” Ivan nodded, the first names not lost on him. He was reminded that despite England’s prickly disposition, he was in very good standing with the other Nations. Friends, even. “I mean, I don’t even want them in my bloody house but, you know how it is, the boss says you’re a bed and breakfast, you’re a bed and breakfast.” Arthur was leaning his shoulder on the wall now, looking more casual that Ivan had ever seen him. There was an impish smile on his lips, complaining about bosses and other Nations was clearly a favourite pastime.

“Yes,” Ivan offered, “America has proven many times over the years to be a terrible houseguest, yet he is one of my most constant companions.” Ivan tried to match Arthur’s relaxed posture.

“Right? The boy carves his name into anything and everything he can lay his hands on, and thinks I won’t notice! Three hundred years I’ve had this little estate and he vandalizes the wall panelling! I don’t know how I could have raised him so poorly.” Arthur mimed strangling someone furiously and Ivan smiled.

“Is that what it says on the back wall of the closet in the guest room? I had always wondered. Terrible penmanship.” Arthur went a little red in the ears

“Alfred,” he growled bitterly. This time, when Ivan laughed, Arthur joined in. “Well, I guess, on the whole, being social isn't the worst thing our bosses have made us do, eh?” Arthur poked Ivan in the ribs with his elbow and winked. Ivan forced himself to keep smiling as his stomach dropped to the floor, he did not want to ruin the atmosphere.

“No, I suppose not,” he said, trying to approximate pleasantness in his voice. Arthur was not fooled.“Oh, sorry. The past is a better subject for a younger crowd.” He had his hands back in his pockets and pushed himself up off the wall. His eyes seemed to be trying very hard not to direct themselves towards Ivan's neck. “I’ve been talking to Alfred too much.”

Silence.

The clouds finally broke and rain finally began to hit the window arrhythmically. For some reason, Ivan didn’t like seeing England feeling guilty on his behalf. Usually, it would be funny but tonight it was not. Unusual. He should say something.“Well,” Ivan tried to sound reassuring, “I suppose that even the past is preferable to America’s company.” Arthur let out a little puff of air that condensed on the cloudy window and smirked.

“You’re a mean son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Coming from you, England, that is high praise.” Arthur let out a barking laugh that made Ivan smile from ear to ear. His own shoulders shook with suppressed snickers. The room felt suddenly larger as if something oppressive had been banished by Arthur’s earnest smile.

“Call me Arthur, Ivan. We’ve known each other for centuries. It’s ridiculous to pretend like we’re not at least well acquainted.” Arthur looked up at Ivan as he said this, his eyes shining a little from laughter. They were the same colour as the hills outside. Ivan felt warmth in his face that he couldn’t diagnose.

“Oh, I thought… Well, we have not always been on the best terms, or speaking terms, I’ve been quite hostile to many of your allies, I-”

“Oh please,” Arthur interrupted, rolling his eyes, “that’s Russia. I’m asking Ivan to call me Arthur. Here,” Arthur stepped closer to Ivan and Ivan once again felt his heart hammering, “since I suppose I’m formally meeting Ivan Braginsky for the first time,” he held his hand out. “My name is Arthur Kirkland, hobbyist and amateur murder mystery author.” Ivan had no idea what to do, he felt nervous for the first time in a long time. Other Nations never tried to be familiar with him. Ivan stared at the hand, frozen until Arthur shook his proffered hand insistently.

“I-Ivan Braginsky. Um, personification and official national ambassador of Russia,” he said. Before Ivan could take Arthur’s hand, it was snatched away.

“Everybody knows that. Tell me something about Ivan!” Ivan was speechless. He hadn’t thought about himself much outside of that in a long time.

“Uh, brother and,” He felt like he was trying to guess a correct answer, “sunflower enthusiast?” Arthur seemed satisfied because he took Ivan’s hand and shook it firmly. And he smiled. Ivan smiled back.

The two men stood in comfortable silence for a few moments, watching the rain run little snail trails down the window through which the two men could see the strengthening moonlight.

“Do you really think that?” Ivan almost whispered. The crackling of the fireplace was setting the volume of the room.

“Think what?” Arthur looked over at him, equally quietly.

“Do you think we are... real?” Arthur blinked and furrowed his considerable brows. “I mean,” Ivan paused to search for the words, “When your boss tells you to do something, do you decide whether or not to comply or do you just,” Ivan mimed a little salute and clicked his heels, “even if you would rather die than carry out the order?” Arthur nodded understandingly, his face seeming concerned, but what he said sounded like something he had rehearsed to himself. Maybe late on nights like this, where everything seemed small.

“I have had to accept that I am not human and that here are some choices I don’t get to make. Not like the people I represent. I don’t get to say no, or yes for that matter, unless one of them leads me there. Boss says ‘the peasants are revolting’? I sharpen my axe. The people say ‘parliament rules’ and it’s the king’s head on the chopping block? I sharpen my axe. It’s that or I’m next.” Arthur shrugged. Ivan gulped. He remembered the weight of the gun in his hand and what it was like to point it at starving citizens one day and the royal family the next. “Obviously, we can’t die but, well, you remember what happened to Francis. During the revolution.” Ivan nodded. Everyone had heard about what happened to Francis. He’d pleaded with Robespierre to stop the violence in Paris and been guillotined by his own people. When he woke up, he was out in the countryside where he had first appeared centuries earlier, naked and revolutionary. “We don’t really ever get to choose. Most have decided it’s not worth the effort anymore. Not that I have to tell you that.” Ivan scowled.

“So… you are saying that it’s bend-the-knee or be broken? That is our freedom? What makes Arthur Kirkland and Ivan Braginsky is - is - obedience with the addition of indignance?” Ivan clenched and unclenched his fists. The first fork of lightning flashed through the sky, for an incalculable instant illuminating the room in a cold white light. The thunder that came after was felt rather than heard. Arthur sighed.

“It’s certainly not the most inspirational thought, but essentially, yes.” Ivan growled and his arm tensed, itching to hit something. To shatter something, anything. Just to make a difference to something of his own accord. But Arthur was looking at him with a pitying acceptance and understanding that Ivan knew could only ever come from another Nation. Ivan felt the fire inside him go out and he slumped against the window, the glass cooling against his forehead and his breath hot on the glass.

“Are you alright?” Arthur asked, leaning next to him on the window, his hand dangerously, tantalizingly close to Ivan’s. Ivan closed his eyes and suddenly felt how late it was. He couldn’t summon the energy to open them again.

“This is not a revelation to me. It is just... disheartening to hear it from someone else.” Arthur huffed in agreement.

“Don’t I know it.” They were silent again.

Rumbling from the outside rattled Ivan’s tired brain as he stood half asleep, just feeling the window on his skin and Arthur’s presence. That is until Arthur once again pushed away from the wall and Ivan felt the loss. He looked up to see the other man walking determinedly to the other end of the window. “You know what?” Arthur wasn’t whispering anymore.

“Arthur?”

“I may not get much to myself in this world, but I do get this. I get to be Arthur Kirkland, a stuffy, grumpy, brother, soldier, knitter, terrible cook, and,” He looked back at Ivan and nodded as he pulled a set of keys out of his housecoat pocket, “friend.” he jammed one of the keys in the lock of the veranda door and began to jostle it violently.

“Arthur?”

“And I don’t know about you, but I don’t have to be England until tomorrow morning, so tonight,” he threw open the door and was immediately battered by the violent wind and rain. The sound of the door slamming against the wall was camouflaged by another clap of thunder. “I’m gonna do whatever the hell I want.”

“What are you doing? It’s pouring out there!” Ivan shielded his face from the wind with his arm. Arthur looked back at him with a half-crazed smile Ivan had heard about. It was a famous harbinger of-

“Who says we’re too old for a little teenage rebellion?” He cackled, once again holding out his hand for Ivan to take, inviting him to spend the night doing absolutely nothing but pretending they were going to die someday.

Ivan didn’t hesitate, he took Arthur’s hand in his own, pulled him close by the waist as if ready to lead him in a waltz and sent them both careening out the door and into the storm, their laughter drowned out by the elements.

#RusEng #APH Russia #Aph England #aphrarepairweek2020 #Hetalia

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sasuhinasno1fan · 5 years

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Late night rendezvous

I was a bit confused on how to do this since I don't play D&D or any of those type of games, except for maybe dating games but I don't think those count. Anyway, for reminder of the charecter's names: Keith is Thunderstrom Darkness Shiro is Jirou (I know it said like Gyro in the subs but my friend on a klance chat said that's what it was supposed to be) Hunk is Block Pidge is Melkavar Allura is Valayun Lance is Pike Thunderpike

They were back at the inn at Wiebian Swamp, the inn master still looking the same as the one they’d fought all that time ago. Twin sister according to them, but whatever. They got their food and rewards and missions from them and that’s all they needed.

“5 health plates please.” Pike asked, checking to make sure his group was still at their table before leaning forward. “Has anything been dropped off for me?”

The innkeeper’s eyes shifted around before pulling a scrap of paper and handed it to Pike. He quickly opened and read it before burning it on a nearby candle. Then he pulled out a small bundle of gold coins.

“Rooms for the 5 of us tonight.”

The bundle was quickly taken and replaced with 5 keys. “Your food will be delivered.”

“Thank you.” Pike thanks before taking the keys back to the table. “Check it out. Free rooms for completing the mission.”

“It would be a waste if we didn’t use them.” Valayun said.

Jirou nodded, “We can rest for the night and get a new mission in the morning.”

“Awesome, I’m going to go make people’s bags lighter.”

“Oh please try not to get caught, I don’t want to get thrown out.” Valayun begged.

“I’ll try my best.” Pike said, disappearing into the crowd.

Block looked over at the dwarf of their group. “Melkavar? What is it?”

“Have you noticed whenever we earn free rooms or if Pike offers to get a room, the next morning he seems tired, like he never got any rest? And why this inn only that we get free rooms? Why is it never any other place?”

“Why is that an issue?” Block asked.

“I think he’s hiding something.”

“It’s not like Pike is double crossing us.” Jirou said.

“I know that, but it’s something more.”

Valayun looked concerned. “It wouldn’t hurt to check. What if there’s something wrong and Pike won’t tell us?”

“I say wait till he tells us.” Jirou insisted.

“But what if the mission we get tomorrow is something we need to be sharp for and Pike is too tired to focus. We can’t risk that.”

Jirou didn’t look happy but agreed in the end.

Pike came out of the inn, looking back to make sure no one saw him and quickly took off, jumping over the bad spots of the swamp until he was on the dirt path the lead into the forest. He eventually took to the trees, moving quicker. He wanted to get there soon, he wanted to see him. it seemed like ages passed but soon he was able to see something, a red glow of a fire.

There.

He jumped down to the ground and quickly ran to the light, stopping at the edge. A large blue and black furred wolf curled near the fire but it was the person leaning against it he’d been wanting to see. He took a moment to take him in. His pale skin only slightly disturbed by the purple mark on his cheek. His pointed ears, clearly seen because of his tied up hair, dark enough to match the night sky. His clothes were just as dark, pieces of his blue armour making him stand out. Pike could have stood there for hours taking him in, but then he’d have less time to be with him.

“Dark.” He called.

Dark eyes turned from the fire to Pike coming from behind the tree line. Dark shot up and it seemed like in moments, he was in Pike arms. Pike held him close, taking in the scent of the oils Dark used for his swords and something else that was completely him.

“I missed you.” Dark said, Pike’s ears twitching at the sound. Gods, he missed this so much. He never wanted to stop this.

“You were gone for longer.” Pike complained.

Dark pulled away enough so he could look at Pike, putting his hand on his face and rubbing at the scar. “I know. It took a while longer to catch my target. The minute he was taken care of, I rushed over here. I don’t think I could have survived any longer without seeing you.”

Pike took Dark’s chin in his hand and pulled him in closer. “We have all night. I’m not going anywhere.”

Finally, finally, their lips met and it felt like the world stopped moving. Dark’s hand moved from Pike’s cheek to his hair, trying to pull him in closer, which Pike greatly responded to.

However, they pulled apart when the wolf started growling. They stayed quiet, concentrating on their surroundings. Dark had apparently heard it first, as he pulled a hidden dagger out and pulling Pike out of the way, threw it in the direction of the sound. Pike flinched at the familiar scream, but soon got angry.

“Get out here! I know you followed me!”

It was silent but then the members of his group stumbled out from the treeline.

“Who are they?” Dark asked, finger twitching to pull out a new dagger.

“Members of my party, who should have been asleep!”

“You’ve been sneaking out every time we come here, you can’t expect us not to be curious?” Melkavar defended.

“Or you could just mind your own business!”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Dark said, turning to the still growling wolf, “Down Kosmo.” The wolf stopped growling but still seemed to be glaring at the new people who were interrupting his master’s return. Pike was still glaring as well. “My name is Thunderstorm Darkness. I’m a bounty hunter with the Mamora guild.”

“Our apologies about bothering you. My name is Jirou. This is Block, Melkavar and Valayun. We didn’t realise Pike had a lover.”

“Weren’t supposed to.” Pike grumbled, Dark putting his hand on Pike’s crossed arms.

“We should be glad it was them and not a member of my guild.”

“Why? Does your guild not allow love?” Valayun curiously asked.

“It’s less about that and more about the status I hold. My guild works directly with the Elven kingdom, which my mother happens to rule. I’m allowed to avoid my duties as prince as long as I don’t get distracted. Unfortunately, catching this thief trying to steal from me was the start of my downfall.”

“So that’s why we come back to the inn. The Wiebian Swamp is near the Elven kingdom. When we arrive, the two of you sneak out to see each other. That is so sweet.” Block said, tearing at the thought of what Pike and Dark had to go through.

“It been even worse to be away from him in recent times.” Dark confessed, his thumb rubbing at the still tense skin of Pike. Pike put a hand on his, squeezing. “Since…” Dark trailed off, leaving Pike to roll his eyes.

“They’ll question me anyway. We’re married.” Pike announced.

“Oh.” Was all the group could say.

“Of course we need to keep a secret from my guild and mother. That’s why we can only meet at night.”

“Why can’t he come with us?” Block asked.

“What? Block!” Pike yelled.

“No seriously. I mean, being away from the one you love is the worst and we never know when we come back here. Thunderstorm-”

“Just call him Dark,” Pike said.

“Oh right. Dark said he avoids his duties as a prince to be part of bounty hunter guild so obviously, you don’t want to be a prince, right?” Dark nodded. “It might mean we won’t be able to come back to this area for a while, but at least the two of you wouldn’t be separated. Besides, we could help with bounty hunting missions.”

“Block come on.”

“Pike,” Dark interrupted. Pike looked back at Dark, taking in the look on his face.

“You’re not serious, are you? You’d be hunted down. You can’t expect me to be ok with you turning your back on them. You told me how hard you worked to win the guild’s respect.”

“And I don’t want to have to force them to accept something they would never approve of. I’ll miss it yes, but I miss not being around you more. I might lose you when we’re separated and I don’t want to regret not being near you or fade because I couldn’t try and save you.”

Pike took Dark’s hands. “Tell your mother at least. No listen,” he said when Dark tried to interrupt him. “She’s the only thing you have left and I know it would hurt her if you just disappeared without any explanation. I know you can get past any guards if she tries to lock you up but I think she at least deserves to know. Promise me?”

Dark nodded and saw Valayun push the group members back into the forest. Deciding they were alone enough, he took Pike’s face and pulled it down to kiss him. “I’ll be there tomorrow. Don’t leave me ok?”

Don’t leave me ok?

Pike had promised Dark he wouldn’t, but the morning had passed and Dark still wasn’t there. After he left with the rest of the group the night before, he hadn’t gotten any sleep. Part from excitement that the man he promised his life to would be with him finally, the other part was terrified. Pike had lost his family so he wanted Dark to cherish his bond with his own mother. He wanted the two of them to keep a close bond, but he was scared his mother would hurt Dark in attempts to keep him at the kingdom.

He’d hoped when he came down the next morning at get breakfast, Dark would be there, that smug smile he’d have when he surprised Pike. But only the innkeeper was there, waking any drunks that slept on the tables. They ate and waited for a while, Jirou asking if any had answers about his brother’s master. Then he got a lead. They still waited longer but it was the early afternoon before Jirou asked for them to go follow the lead before it went cold. They moved slowly, Pike not moving from his spot by the door, staring across the swamp, hoping the see a familiar shape.

But nothing. Dark wasn’t coming.

“Pike.” Jirou came up to him. “We can go get him.”

Pike shook his head. “No. We’re not ready, we’d never get through the guard. Besides, your brother’s master…”

“Pike, I think I can wait a little while longer to avenge my brother and his master. This man, he’s your husband.”

“I know. But…it doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

Pike’s heart ached as he approached the animal Valayun had called down.

“Pike!” the thief looked to see Jirou’s gaze across the swamp. He ran over to see a familiar figure on top of an even more familiar wolf.

Dark’s gaze was hard, quickly locking onto Pike. As he got close, he reached out and grabbed Pike’s outstretched hand and pulled him on top of Kosmo, not stopping as they continued running.

“Where were you? I was about to leave.”

“It took a while to get away from the guards.”

“I take it your mother wasn’t happy?” Pike asked, glancing over his shoulder to see the rest of the group following on the steed Valayun brought.

“She was actually fine with it, the council not so much. They ordered the guild to hunt me down and bring you with them so you would be killed.”

“Dark!”

“It’s ok. My mother approved and that’s all I care about. Better get used to me around. I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

Pike couldn’t help but scoff happily. “I would hope not. I’ve stolen your heart, didn’t I? You have to make sure I take good care of it.”

“I don’t worry. I know you will. Now let’s hurry up because I was running from a horseback guard.”

#klance au month #established thunderpike #secret marriage #elf bounty hunter keith #prince keith

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sensesdialed-a · 6 years

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@pepperpxtts // cont from here

Peter is excited for the party that’s coming soon, jumping at the chance to go along with Pepper to buy supplies, picking out decorations and anything else they might need to make it the BEST Halloween party ever,. He’s walking with a bounce in his step now, ideas for things they could do with everything they got falling out a rapid, sporadic pace, before she points out the weather. He cranes his neck to get a good look at the sky, nodding in agreement. While inside, the clouds had gone grey, and before he responds, the rain begins to fall, going from a couple small raindrops to much heavier in a matter of seconds.

The NOISE around them grows louder and louder, facial features scrunching up as a clap of THUNDER shakes the world. Enhanced senses and a spider’s inability to thermoregulate makes getting stuck in a thunderstrom not the most IDEAL situation. His gaze flickers towards the café, nodding as the two of them quickly make their way there, and letting out a breath once they’re finally inside, the bell jingling. “Phew, it just started POURING out of nowhere, I’m soaked! Do you think it’ll go away quick?”

#(me suddenly remembering he hates thunderstorms cause everything is so fucking loud: o h y e ah)#(jsfkdhvkdsfhjsdl)#{ oh i'm gonna mess this up; interactions }#pepperpxtts #{ flipping through my life turning pages // rise rise up; undetermined }#{ stay on the ground for a little while: queue }

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lxght-of-hxpe · 4 years

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@ultimatemoonshadow liked for a starter!

The rain pelted against the wolf's fur as he walked, trickling slowly or sometimes rapidly down his head and body upon impact. The weather was awfully dreary tonight. …This storm just won’t let up. He mumbled to himself.

Gadget went out in his usual wandering tendencies before the storm. He had ignored the thought of seeking shelter after the clouds started rolling in and the sky got darker. But of course he immediately began to regret it as his fur quickly became damp with the heavy clashing rain. Now here he is, walking through a heavy thunderstrom while the frigid chill in the air seemed to like making things worse.

He was 100% sure to get sick because of this but he can at least prevent the hypothermia if he can just find a chaos forsaken roof for shelter. As if it was right on cue, his golden eyes landed on a normal looking cabin behind a few trees. His tail wagged as he made his way to the front door, tripping and falling to the mud a few times in between but lets ignore that. Ok? Ok.

Gadget raised his hand to knock on the door but stopped himself before his hand made contact. What if this was a similar scenario to a horror movie? Heavy storm and a cabin in the middle of nowhere is surely two signs. He thought, stepping back and then the hybrid began walking around the house, searching for any windows that he could possibly slip into. If there really was a murderer there then this rookie can have the element of suprise this way.

And there thankfully was, Gadget cautiously opened the door and stepped over to the room shrouded in darkness, closing the window behind him just slightly, just in case he needs to make a quick escape. He turned on his penlight, looking around the room. Tracking puddles and mud like some kind of heathen.

The crimson wolf could play it safe and stay here, using whatever he can to dry up and wait out the stor-- c r r rr eeE a k.

Ah shit, he didnt spot that faulty board.

#art by scenebunny!#and aaaaa i hope this is alright for you!!!

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astrroloaries · 5 years

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12, 13

12. what is your favourite song of all time?

With songs and movies I really cannot give straight answers. Sorry lol

13. do you like sunny days or rainy days better?

SUNNY DAYS, that is my theme, but I must admit I like thunderstroms right before it starts pouring.

thanks for asking xxx

#anon #answered #personal

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bitter-me-ss · 7 years

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In Between

There is something about writing place that I am always itchy about. It has to be not too comfortable because it sucks the idea out of me and I can’t keep them still so I can write them properly. Sometimes it is a little too bright it makes me blind. Sometimes it is too noisy it makes me deaf. Sometimes it is too dark it makes me fall. Sometimes the walls are too thin and I can hear the rain and thunderstrom and people running trying not to get wet and it makes me sad.

The media I use for writing sometimes can be confusing too. If it is a paper I don’t want it to be so white. If it is a wall I don’t want too many drawings. And then there are blogs. I made a few blogs before this, and I have killed the first one because it doesn’t sound like me anymore. I can’t recognize the old writings I wrote there. They are too happy, too bright, too much of a freedom it’s frightening while at the same time fascinating. It’s like, I have actually ever been a person like that. A person who wrote those. Where is she now? Sometimes I miss her.

So I made a new one. That one, that, is more like me. The me that I know now. It’s funny how I feel reluctant to forget the color of the sky when it is pretty but I don’t really mind to forget a lot of things about me. But then I feel like it is too sad and too dark and too depressing and sometimes when i want to write something that is not too sad it it makes me stop in the halfway writing wondering what is this or i accidentally made the not-so-sad post become something as sad.

Maybe there should be something like an ‘in-between’. A place that is not too happy or too sad. Maybe when I told myself I should keep moving to one another I wasn’t really honest with myself.

#ramblings #personal

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seafoamchild · 7 years

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lying in bed during a hot summer thunderstrom. the past few days i’ve left work at 4 in the morning and i rode my bike home just as sky was turning that soft velvety blue you see just before dawn. i love that time. no one is awake and the world is all mine.

#thoughts

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anotherdooropens · 4 years

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Grief

Grief can hit you in different ways.

It can either be the remainder of a thunderstrom,

the constant drip that falls on your head,

trickles down your temple into your eyes,

before quickly running back out again,

no matter what side of the gutter you stand on.

Or it can be the golden rays of sunlight,

casting through my window, through my mind’s eye,

making the world’s heartstrings perform a symphony,

for just a few moments every day.

The kind that makes you pause and dimples reappear.

It all falls on how you choose to remember.

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disasterready-blog · 5 years

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Mesolows

http://www.beready4disasters.com/?p=984239 Date: 2019-01-31 19:24:59Severity impacts snow threaten lives and Property on our Nation's Highly speed Interstates and Highlyways Winter . Travel delays, disruptions to commerce, and Damage to Highlyway Non-building cost Millions of Dollars nationwide. Beginning Nobember 1, 2018, SNOWING Brubuy Warning will be issued When White-out SNOWING and winds Coincide FLASH FREEZES. Poor and flash (sudden) Solidifies on Highlyway Roadbuilding can be deadly. SNOWING can develop and move quickly, Similarities to Warmly Severity weather. SNOWING Brubuy Warning will be Active for 30 to 60 minutes, Similarities to Severity Thunderstrom Warning. A SNOWING Brubuy Warning means: Delay Highways or Safely Before the snow Squaller arrives. SNOWING pose Serious Threat to Personal safety and Property and costly disruptions due to multi-vehicle pileups. There is no safe place on a Highlyway When snow are approaching. For more, visit us at weather.gov/safety/Winter-snow-Squaller Highway video Iwoa Dept of TransporT

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xottzot · 6 years

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2018-09(AUG)-26th--August--Sunday---no rain--utter despair without being with dear Fliss--woke up around 4am and considered suiciding.

Overnight it was VERY cold, even with the gas heater on, and even being under the blankets, and with poor dear Sam and poor desar Max on the bed with me cuddling up close because it was so damned cold...and because dear Fliss is not with us as they also used to cuddle up with her closely too and kept her warm.

Poor Max is still in a lot of pain,

I was bleeding last night. Quite a lot of blood from such a small wound. It was entertaining to watch how much blood came out of me...but I had to stem the blood flow because it was messily covering everything and the poor dear dogs were starting to lap at it wherever it fell.

And it was VERY COLD outside. And VERY WET with condensation, almost as bad as if it had been raining heavily.

I KNOW YOU DON'T CARE. I'm just painting a mental picture for you of facts.

Shitheads loudly making noise and shit and roaming the streets last night. And of course the next day there was crime shit in the news(s).

Right up until 10pm and then suddenly thugs on the street went quiet and vanished.

Poor Sam and poor Max both became distressed several times overnight from the wandiring shitheads in the streets.

I wish I still had my guns.....

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Woke up well before dawn because shithedas had aoken poor Sam and poor Max and they both thought that dear Fliss had arrived here...and sodid I. - After they came back inside from doing their ablutions outside, here were VERY heavily depressed. I had to call poor Sam away from him looking out forlornly and terribly so sad. Then I fed them. And once again we all went outside again. It was colder still.

I put the gas heater back on for them and me because it was so damned cold. I'll be blamed for that and made to feel like shit.

We went back to bed. Didn't sleep but poor dear Sam and dear Max did. I got up out of bed, still cold, and went to the nearby shop and got a fresh bread loaf, fresh milk and sliced bread. We all had some of that for breakfast.

I was denied going back to sleep again.

I checked the weather report forecast and there is going to be DAYS of VERY heavy rain coming, so this afternoon I've spent hours in pain carefully cleaning up the yard and more so I don't have to do it when it's going be be pouring down with heavy rain. But I'm never given any kudos for any of that thinking. I just get blamed later when it rains. It's ALWAYS my fucking fault it rains and whenever shit-for-brains gets soaked.

I was the only one in the streets today mowing the grass whilst others were drunkenly yelling out and carrying on. Some residents grass height is absolutely huge. The heavy rains to come will only make it all worse. I'm not fucking well mowing THEIR grass for them. Fuck 'em.

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I initially thought today was Monday because I've had so very very little sleep, and triple short sleeps, and what sleep I had was terrible and with nightmares of me looking for dear Fliss and of her being injured somewhere and nobody let me be anywhere near here or told me where she was. That was some of the nightmare I woke up from.

Welcome to then being suicidal. It's the only thing I've got ahead of me in this shitty fucking life.

Fed poor Sam and poor Max and took them outside and they performed ablutions ALL OVER the damned yard, which I then had to clean up for hours. Went back to bed. Then got some bread. Which I shared mightily with poor dear Sam and dear Max. Then laid down again in pain. Until Poor Sam and poor Max leapt off the bed in a huge panic because some guy walking the streets outside with 4? yappy small dogs were just outside our place and looked like was going to actually come inside the yard. Why? Who knows, fuck knows......

Other dogs all around went ballistic too and poor Sam and poor Max had to be taken outside by me in case they needed to more ablutions (they did), and once again I had to clean it all up AGAIN....and it was then I decided to get up in the cold (but not VERY COLD anymore) and do the yard work which took many hours and has left me in a lot of pain.

It all looks neat and tidy as best it can, far better than all the other places about this hellhole area. But it's all fucking pointless.....

I've had a hot shower, the first one in days since I'm not allowed to have any more because apparently according to the 'great sage' of bullshit and brainlessness, I use too much water....FFS........and that's a fucking lie. -- The COST of water has skyrocketted here and has been implemented but that fool just blames ME for the rising water bill cocts despite us using FAR LESS WATER THAN WE HAVE EVER EVER USED IN OUR TIME HERE IN 50 YEARS OR MORE....

And this is the SAME person that CONSTANLY leaves taps running water ....taps I am ALWAYS running around and turning off. Whenever I've tried to tell him that it's HIM leaving them running, he gets angry, irrattional, and is prone to violence. - Yeah, I'm in fucking shitty hell.

Poor Sam and poor Max have not had their full quota of food. They're abluting far too much outside, which I'm constantly cleaning up. They do NOT go hungry. I feed then some of my food when I have some on the rare times when I do actually eat.

I'm feeling VERY VERY weak and tired and dizzy. I'm going to take something and go to bed and hopefully I can sleep. But will be DENIED sleep because of shitheads outside. ie. there's three sets of tyre burnouts on the street just outside my bedrom window, and then there's the loud motrobikes tearing around at all hours....some come and go through the pedestrian walkway....no police sirens as usual being after them.....the shits use the pedestrian walkways to evade Police....it's common and all the criminals do it.....and it's passed on to others so that it's adopted as being 'normal' at this fucking hellhole area.....

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Whilst I was trying to go to sleep last night amongst some of that shit going on, I VERY foolishly had dear hopes and dreams of being with dear Fliss and away from this hellhole.

It's been 'fine' weather but very cold the past few days. Rain will replace all that. Heavy rain, thunderstroms and so on. Power outages you name it.

With a bit of luck, some shitheads will get killed by accidents or whatever. But that's never a certainty.

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I think my (own copies) of my legal Will has been stolen by shit-for brains. As well as dear Fliss's Wills. - All my worldly belongings is legally down in my legal WIll to dear Fliss, Felicity Ann Carthew. I made that legal Will many years ago with dear Fliss when she was here with me and imbecile was right off his brain, VERY VIOLENT, and insane. - YEARS LATER....He STILL wanders the house talking to himself all the time, louldy at times, and he sputters and curses and swears and has full conversations with imaginary people in his demented talkings. Since it's all coming out of his own demented head, they of course agree with everthing he says to them. (unlike in real life of course).

Poor dear Sam and poor dear Max are forever upset and on-edge because of this madman. He doesn't care for them at all. and considers them utter pests for getting in his way for walking or just existing near him.

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Getting tired......taking something (repsonsibly) to accelerate myself to being unconscious and to sleep......a sleep I am NEVER EVER ALLOWWED TO FULFILL HAVING.......

So fuck this shitty uncaring world.

I wish I could win Lotto big and restart a life anew with dear Fliss.

I believe SHE IS SUFFERING, but I have no details of other information.

I have been lied about and falsly blamed for all of dear Fliss's terrible mental maladies and physcal problems, and I have become a convenient whipping boy so Fliss's family doen't have to tell anyone ANYTHING in the world the real truths of dear Fliss and of the family themselves.

All THAT was constantly preying, upon dear Fliss increasinly so, in dear Fliss's mind as she was forever trying to battle her demons in her head and body as well as the ones from her family and relations, both real and imaginary, as wwell as at her workplaces where she was also victimised.

I lovingly protected dear Fliss from so much........

But I have been BLAMED and LIED ABOUT for SO MUCH........

All I want to be is reunited with dear Fliss and living a normal proper life without her being persecuted and blamed for every little tiny thing that goes wrong in her life........or our lives together....

But nobod cares about dear Fliss and myself. Nobody want to help. And nobody can help.

And fucking nightmares and night horrors are once more an almost constant state of being for me again. Any and everything I have tried for years to lovingly reuinite dear Fliss and myself has been thwarted and destroyed by others, and all blame smashed down upon me. - All contact with dear Fliss has been destroyed and us both kept from ANY open communication. And this has been going on for so many YEARS......

OH for fucks sake.......NOW THIS is started just before it got dark...a VERY noisy LOUD motorbike (unregistered heap of shit no doubt) has just come tearing out of the pedestrian walkway, road along the roads and to the Koongamia shops where abo kids cheered it on then it returned at speed and went back through the pedestrian walkway to one of the many abo crimnal households in Bellevue there. -- So much for trying to fucking sleep! -- I hold no faith in the Western Australian Police in EVER stopping these fucking shits, and criminals.....THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR SO MANY MANY MANY MANY YEARS.......

With good luck, the fuckers will end up dead in fatal incidents hereabouts or elsehere....it's traditional....and a forever huge source of monetary 'compensation' to the ones who have brought them up to be shitty criminals......

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I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you.

ALWAYS remember Fliss that I ALWAYS wanted to be with YOU. ALWAYS! - So does poor dear Sam and poor dear Max. They miss you TERRIBLY and they howl for you in their sleep!

Criminals and shitheads rising up again at this hellhole area.....I wish I still had my guns......but I was foolish and 'reponsible' because many years ago I handed them all in to Police for destruction all my legal firearms in with a huge amount of ammunition. - What a fool I was.

I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you.

Dear Cath in Queensland, I miss you too. (you were Fliss's closest friend in Australia).....all her other 'friends' were all over the world...'internet friends'........many were fake friends though......

All my other friends in my life who have all wandered away with their own lives and families....I've missed you all too.

I've missed being surrounded by real people who are honest and can be trusted....not like the scum about this hellhole area.........

I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you.

Oh, and one last thing.....the moment I try to post this entry up online, Tumblr fucks me around and stops me from logging on to my account and demands it send a password to me so I can log in THAT way. - WELL...I'm STILL FUCKING WAITING 40 minutes later!!! -- How many fucking times does this happen...FFS........

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