𝐋𝐘𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍 .ᐟ

you're all mistaken， mother， can't you see? i was not taken， mother， i chose to leave.

which one .ᐣ { teasing, leaning against a tree, faux—casual. and, without waiting for an answer, } might i offer a proposal .ᐣ

ah, out wandering alone at night, yet again .ᐣ tsk, tsk.

"heh." he gave her a little squeeze with a grunt. "borin' is good, right? means shit's normal, y'know? trust me, kid, where i go, it ain't a life ya want."

.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ :D

his smile grows in warmth and he chuckles. "well, shit, kid. sounds like ya like me or somethin'. any time ya need a hype man, i'm the guy in your corner. ya know that, right?"

"i have to because none of the assholes around here hype you up enough." his other hand came up to rest on her head, smiling softly. "yeah. me, too, kid. how ya doin'?"

"and that's all the reason we fuckin' need to celebrate!" gives her a one armed hug and pats her back. "what can i say? 'm proud of yah."

EVERYONE CLAP. THAT'S MY FUCKIN' KID RIGHT THERE.

[ her hand, hot with fever, stopped him from delivering the next spoonful. his head tilted a little at her words of gratitude, and then she dropped off into sleep. he swallowed hard and looked around before he set the bowl to the side and got up. he made sure she was+

[ that got a grin from him, though it was apprehensive. taking care of her, of someone sick, took him back to his past. to memories he treasured, but also avoided. ] . . . my wife used to say that. [ there was a little pain in his eyes as he said it. ] so i'm+

you're bossy. [ he shoots back, smiling despite the worry that has drawn his brows together. ] here, gotta sit up a lil, kid. [ he tucks an arm behind her to ease her up just enough to tuck pillows behind her and prop her up. he immeditely sits on the ground beside+