ANONYMOUS submitted
In the beginning.
Tino sighed and returned to his seat at his desk, propping his feet up on the small craft box kept underneath for safekeeping. It was his day to take the children back to the orphanage, and though he didn’t mind taking the sweet kids the four blocks down the street, he was just exhausted.
Plus, today was date night with Berwald, since they had finally convinced Alfred to go spend the night with Matthias. Tino was looking forward to spending a nice, quiet evening with his husband. They hadn’t had the opportunity to spend some time together for quite a while, and tino had been looking forward to it for weeks.
He just had to take the kids down to the orphanage, and…
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nunaasiilasooq sent:
Three sentence fic for for Iiliit and Peter b/c why not UuU
“Iggu, are you ready for this?” the Greenlandic grinned wickedly as she strapped Peter’s helmet on—but Peter was looking at her with wide, worried eyes. Iiliit rolled her eyes and grinned as she picked him up and nestled him in her lap, wrapping her arms around his tiny body as she got the go kart in position.
“Ready—set—go!”
rakivecay sent:
(You’re the) Devil in Disguise--- Maybe that Peter finds out Sadik hunts with Iraklis?
(You’re the) Devil in Disguise - my character discovers something terrible about yours [can be chosen by you, or left for me to decide]
“Mister Sadik…why do you kill people for fun?”
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I’ll Make a Man out of You - my character decides to try and shape up yours.
It was probably the most excruciating training Peter had ever gone through in his entire five years of life.
The child could feel the sweat slicking down his neck as he huffed, pumping his legs as he tried to keep pace with Alfred. He huffed and puffed and tried to at least stay side by side with him, but Alfred’s legs were too long and he had too much stanima. It had already been fifteen minutes since they had started running, and Peter could barely keep up with Alfred’s never ending energy.
Alfred, at sixteen and at the prime of his high school career, was every parent’s dream child, along with his twin brother Matthew. They were both heavily involved in sports, straight A students, and sociable to boot. Matthew preffered winter and spring sports like hockey and lacross, while Alfred was more into the activities in the summer and fall, like track and football.
Of course, as Peter was barely qualified for elementary school, he only had a vague idea of these things. So when Alfred asked him one night at dinner if he’d like to join his older brother in his track training, Peter happily agreed, not realising the type of workout he was in for.
Alfred had woken Peter up at six in the morning with a loud yell, ripping the covers off of the child’s body, and picking him up to spin him around. Peter had been jolted from sleep and promptly threw up from dizziness.
But that hadn’t deterred Alfred. Instead of putting Peter back to bed, the teen had set Peter up with a big breakfast, telling him not to eat too much but to get just enough. Peter had hastily nibbled on some pancakes that Matthew had made the previous night that Alfred heated up in the microwave, and drank some orange juice before hesitantly following his all-American brother outside.
That was then, this was now. Peter huffed and puffed as he tried to keep up, but he was losing steam and slowing.
“Haaa…..haaa—Alfred, don’t wanna do this anymore—”
At that, the blond teen slowed down to a stop and looked down at Peter. It took a moment, but the smile slowly grew back on his face as he plucked Peter right up and set him on his shoulder, cradling him with his hand as he kept jogging. Peter quickly wrapped his arms around Alfred’s head on instinct as the other quickened up.
“You did good, little guy! But next time, maybe we should just use the treadmill at home.”
Second Chance — Write about your character finally moving on from something that’s been holding them back/ some sort of emotional turmoil they’ve been dealing with,
“You know, Daddy…I think, for a long time, I blamed you. But it’s okay now. I think that it’s okay.”
It had started after Arthur had tucked in Peter for bed. The child was staying over for one of his visits—somehow, Matthew and Arthur had arranged for it that Peter would spend one weekend every month in England, with his father, and two weeks together during the summer, along with holidays and whenever Peter gathered up the courage to ask Matthew if his father could come and visit.
Arthur, who had been quite pleased that they managed to arrange this sort of living for Peter without getting at each other’s throats, gently stroked his hands through Peter’s hair, which despite how many years he lived away from the shore, away from his fort, always smelt like sand and was coarser then one would expect. The man shifted his legs so he was half cradling the child, while Peter was still tucked safely into his bed.
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Anonymous sent:
Mattie has passed away
It started out like a normal day. Peter woke up early, just as the sun was creeping into the window, and yawned as he stumbled out of bed. Akaik licked his ankles as he passed, and Peter smiles just a bit, rubbing the sleepyness out of his eyes as he came into the kitchen.
However, when he went to knock on Matthew’s door, there was no answer. Peter waited for a moment, thinking he was maybe sleeping, but after ten minutes with no sign of Matthew waking, Peter took the chance and opened the door.
There was no one there.
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musicandteddybears submitted:
(The Rishi is sad/upset/in need of cheering up. So! I shall do my best to chase away the blues. Have more cute fluff, which could be considered a sequel to the last thing I wrote you. :D Also, hear that? That is the sound of me not caring about not having to write something. It’s never an imposition, so hush. :| )
“Alright Peter, let’s not do this tonight. It is bedtime. You are going to get a drink, use the potty, brush your teeth and get into bed, and get settled. I’ll read you a story, turn on the night light, and you are going to sleep by yourself.”
“Nuh-uh!”
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She didn’t think she made a very good mother, but whenever Peter was over, he always made sure to try and prove her otherwise.
The little five year old would shower her with love and tell her how much he adored her, and that she was a great Mama, and that he would stop by again really, really soon when the time to leave finally came.
She still didn’t think she was good at motherhood, but for those hours, she thought perhaps she would be able to manage it.
mommyocean:
Nestled in a cave made of coral once lived the ocean. She was big and small at the same time.
Her hair and dress were the tides and she, she had loved a magic man.
So she had been blessed with a shiny pearl with a baby inside.
This baby would be her prince. Brave and curious. She nestled the pearl between sea weed and shells and sang songs to it.
When her baby hatched he was everything she expected him to be.
He learned to swim quickly and learned to tickle fish soon after.
But she could tell that what was around him wasn’t enough. He’d look up at the shifting waves and sigh.
So when she woke up and saw that he was not in his bed, she knew she would have to look for him above water.
Her curious baby would be getting into trouble and she had to make sure he was safe. Even though it hurt her that she wasn’t enough to keep him happy, if he was loved she could let him go.
So she followed him.
And watched.
X-ray: Your muse broke a bone during an activity that our muses shared.
“Mister Alfred, are you really sure that you’re okay?”
“Yeah—no worries, buddy! After all, I am a hero—this stuff is to be expected when you take risks!”
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Yell: Your muse is getting bullied and my muse intervenes.
“I told you kids to get the hell off my yard!”
Sadik scowled as he burst out his front door, slamming it against the wall, as the half dozen or so boys flinched at the loud noise and scattered. The Turk—thirty five and feeling much, much older— rubbed at the back of his neck, easing out a sigh.
“Fucking kids, Jesus—”
Then, a pause, as he noticed that there was one, much smaller figure curled up, keening over by his post-box. Sadik was about to yell again, but something made him stop, and trek over to this child to see what was the matter.
Jogging up to the child and placing a hand on his shoulder, Sadik nudged him. “Kid? What’s wrong with you?”
The blond hair shifted as the boy turned, and Sadik saw exactly why the child hadn’t run—there was a big bruise on the side of his face, along with a split lip and a bruised eye. The older man blanched, unable to say anything for a moment, before his eyes softened at the child’s tears, which were starting to grow in number.
It was then that Sadik noticed that he looked exactly like one of his co-workers—a workaholic by the name of Kirkland, who would often work long hours and well into the night. The Turk’s nose wrinkled as he inhaled sharply through his nose.
“Hey—hey, kid, I’m not going to hurt you,” he mumbled, reaching out to cup the tiny child’s head in his hand, bringing him to his chest so his growing sobs would be muffled. “Shh, shh—come on, let’s get you cleaned up. And once we do, we’re going to your father so he can have a talk with those boys.”
Anonymous sent:
Fem!England/Greece, the English lady and the pool boy.
She developd a fondness for him, somehow.
Of course, while her husband was out at social events or on business, the foreign boy who cleaned their pool every Wednesday was happy to keep Alice company—and kept her company he did.
Honestly, the Greeks knew more about sex then the French ever would.
A Little Sleepy: Your muse falling asleep on my muse.
He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.
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mommyocean:
She was water, the ocean, she knew about rhythms.
People and the beings like people had moods, seasons, tides. There is a time when things will happen, things that ‘should happen’ and are as natural as rain, sand or atmospheric pressure.
Her boys.
Her special boys.
She knows where they are. On a moment of spontaneous inspiration she decides.
It’s time for her to visit.
Not that they would welcome her.
But still.
She goes anyway. She concentrates, she touches soil and she walks.
It’s dark by the time she finds them. There is a light on in one of the rooms, she sees through the kitchen window. Most of the house is dark, but the faint light shines on. Casts away shadows and seems to shine a way to what she needs to see.
She walks along the parameter of the house. Bushes, well watered. She smiles, touching the happy plants.
She finds a better view. Arthur is asleep in a large chair; Peter is asleep on his lap. The book that he must have been reading is about to fall from his hand. Her baby has a stuffed toy in his sleeping arms and Arthur is drooling slightly.
If…
If she could. She would take the book.
She would gently run her finger through Arthur’s hair. And kiss the crown of her baby’s head.
She would pick him up and put him in a bed, tuck him in. Then hold Arthur’s hand until he woke up and they would go to bed together.
There is a time, a rhythm to things.
She has seen it a million ways with her own eyes. Finally her boys were together. The time has come, it was overdue. But the time, when she could actually be with them…
Hold her baby. Her precious baby. And walk beside her love….
It won’t come.
It’s unnatural. Like the plastic bottles that littler her body and order to chaos. There’s no place for it, for her. Not here.
She tries to hold this image of the sleeping two, hold in her memory. This hard earned moment that she has to turn away from. It’s only natural that they remain separated.
Didn’t make the ache inside her any easier to ignore.
musicandteddybears submitted
(I heard something about Daddy Arthur and baby Peter. :3 so have some fluff~. also, Peter’s mom is just a random woman. as an added bonus, the feeding part is very much based off of experiences at my daycare. XD seriously, some of the babies I work with are very smart for their age. )
It’d been such a cliche scene, really. He’d stepped outside to collect his mail, and had tripped over a basket on his doorstep. Said basket had proceeded to reveal its contents by a loud, eardrum shattering wail that sounded more like a siren than anything else.
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