that fanfiction author who never gives up despite never actually getting anyway. remaining in obscurity despite a handful of people who feel like maybe, just maybe, they should have a look and see what her writing is actually like. see whether you like it enough to click that little follow button in the top right. which you might - but you also might not. i guess you're one of those people. so, thank you. for at least giving me a chance.
Sometimes I stare at the computer screen when the words don’t want to come and I think, “Fuck, who am I kidding? This is terrible writing, and this story is shit, and no one cares, anyway.” And I close the window and go do something else.
But every now and then I get an amazing, heartfelt, beautiful comment from someone who loved something I wrote, and it reminds me that, at least for that one person, I did write something worthwhile. And so I open the window again and I write one sentence, and then another, and then I start to find my way again.
So on behalf of all fanfic writers everywhere, I want to say thank you, thank you so much, to all of the readers who take the time to leave a comment and tell us that something we wrote mattered to you, that it brightened your day or made you laugh or cry or get horny or whatever.
Please don’t think we’re ever bothered by your comment, or that we don’t want to hear it, or that what you have to say isn’t important enough. It means so, so much. And on some days, it’s what keeps us going.
Uuuh, for the Drabbles thing, how about "Drink Me"? And um, perhaps just a non-romantic fic with America and Canada? Or just any sibling set you feel comfortable writing about! Pretty please~ and thank you~ :)
but of course! i do love these two siblings uwu (i'm going to be a purist so drabbles are 100 words; this one is just dumb but hey, it's writing practice!)
“This is disgusting.”
America glanced at his brother, smiling loosely, obviously a lot more relaxed than he had been before hand, nursing a bottle of beer. “Nah, it’s really not, bro.”
Canada grimaced, sticking his tongue out and staring at the fluorescent liquid in front of him. “No. No, this is disgusting. And I’m pretty sure it shouldn’t be that colour.”
“It’s meant to be that colour.”
“Nothing is meant to be this colour.”
A clear glass cup filled with the offending, bright blue liquid was held up for the other to see, making America roll his eyes.
Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about one character trying to cheer another up.
Leave a “Break Me” in my ask, and I will write an angsty drabble.
Leave a “Call Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about one character asking for another [be it at the brink of death/in a battlefield/knocking on the front door wounded, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Drink Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about characters drinking, alone or with each other.
Leave a “Enamor Me” in my ask, and I will write a fluffy drabble characters trying to woo one another [be it out of the blue/Valentines Day, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Fight Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble out one character fighting with/or against another.
Leave a “Get Me” in my ask, and I will write a drabble about one character saving another.
Leave a “Haunt Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character watching over another [as a ghost, watching from a distance, or otherwise, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Invite Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character asking another character to join them.
Leave a “Join Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character giving another character an offer [be it a proposal for an alliance, asking them to join them in an activity (you can get dirty if you want), feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Kill Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character killing another.
Leave a “Love Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a fluffy drabble about two (or more) characters.
Leave a “Mourn Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character mourning another character’s death.
Leave a “Nurse Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character healing another.
Leave a “Offer Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character giving another a gift.
Leave a “Paint Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character drawing a picture of another [like one of your french girls~ be it painting them or drawing them, maybe offering a picture of them as a gift, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Quiet Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character trying to calm another down [be it from crying, from lashing out, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Remember Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character trying to get another to remember them [be it from an accident, meeting them after years apart, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Shag Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a dirty drabble about the specified characters.
Leave a “Tell Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character confessing something to another [be it a love confession, a secret, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Unbind Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character freeing another, or the other way around, or something among the lines [be it freeing them from jail, from handcuffs, from a trap, from a curse, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “Value Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character telling another how they feel about them.
Leave a “Wed Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about a character under the subject of wedlock [be it characters proposing to or marrying another, feel free to specify.]
Leave a “X Me” in my ask, and I will write whatever it is that you wish, [specify.]
Leave an “Yahoo Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about the specified characters celebrating something [feel free to specify.]
Leave an “Zip Me” in my ask, and I’ll write a drabble about one character dressing another, or the other way around [this can also be used for shutting them up as well, but feel free to specify.]
That the time where all of the nordics are independent, no more wars or fights. And then they decide to fall asleep on the same bed like they used to, all of them cuddled to each other with soft smiles on their lips.
And then theres Denmark in the middle, smiling happily with his eyes closed, with happy tears streaming down his cheeks because his family is back together. uwu
He’d lost track of hoe long it had been, since this had last happened. They had been apart a long time, and every second it was clear in the mind of the pseudo-immortal. When emotion during those periods had ranged from drunken bliss to blistering anger and uncontrollable sobbing, with everything in between, he could hardly be expected to forget. But now they were back in their usual huddle under blankets and quilts, trying to get enough warmth to fight off the cold winter air.
It was harder now, he had to admit. They were all substantially bigger than he remembered them being – they barely even fitted on the bed now. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected them all to grow; it was just that he hadn’t expected it to be that much… Had they really been that young, last time they had perfect peace? Had they really been that young when the wars started?
He could feel someone pulling closer to him, and even if he couldn’t quite put his finger on whom, it made the saddening thoughts drop from his mind. He could feel Norway’s bony fingers clinging to his shirt, most likely in a state of absent thought, considering he would never show such affection normally. His head lay on Denmark’s shoulder, having been shoved away from the pillow almost completely by Sweden, who despite everything had ended up completely wrapped up in the other nation, arms around his waste and pulled close to his back. He couldn’t figure out how either of them were comfortable, but bare arms pressed against his own made it a little easier. It had been a long time since either of the two of them had been this close to him, and after centuries of having and losing he was just happy to have it.
On the other side of him, Finland had tried to claim the edge of the bed, not quite willing to be close to the people when he was sleeping. But then Iceland had blatantly refused to be anywhere near his brother, but at the same time refused to be on the end, so in the end Finland had ceded to allowing Iceland in next to him. It was hard to believe they had been the same age at one point, when they were awake, but now it was obvious, and Denmark felt the familiar feeling of protectiveness shift in his heart.
It was nice, seeing his family wrapped up in each other again. A little too nice. For all he pretended to be the perfect modern tough guy, Denmark could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He’d waited for this, and for so long. The smile that pulled at the corners of his lips was perfect, as he rolled onto his side, feeling Iceland wrap copy his older brother’s actions, clinging to the back of the shirt he’d more or less forced himself to wear. He could feel Finland shifting to get closer to both of them, and could just about feel fingers lacing together on his back, though he couldn’t figure out who’s.
Denmark's arms wrapped around Norway, unable to stop the little tears, just happy to feel so many pairs of arms belonging to all of the people he cared about, wrapped around him and holding him close; showing how much they cared. Together at last.
The scrambling of hands made it harder and harder to stop what was happening. Neither of them seemed to be fully in control of their actions, but for the desperation of getting at skin that they couldn’t reach. Tongues clashed and teeth collided in a few uncomfortable moments, and Iceland groaned appreciatively when Norway pulled them closer together, his fingers digging into his thighs. There were getting closer and closer, battling for something that neither of them really knew, nails scratching down Norway’s spine, as one hand moved up to yank on his hair. They jutted together, completely in synch with everything from their pounding hearts, to their presses, to the stupid sarcastic remarks they would never be without.
Iceland hissed something under his breath, craning his neck and arching his back, giving the other the clue to what he wanted. As Norway nipped down his neck, he hummed his approval, eyes closing behind the soft black fabric he had been so graciously blindfolded with. He was stuck in a world of hearing and feeling, which he was more than completely okay with.
A hand traced over his tailbone, making him twitch in anticipation. He could practically feel the smug smirk gracing the Norwegians lips. (Though, he supposed that could be attributed to the fact that he was currently kissing along his shoulder, and that made it easier to know what his lips were doing.) Biting his tongue for a moment, he let go with a pained hiss, not having expected the shock of a finger probing against him just yet.
“Fuck!”
Above him, Norway laughed. “As eloquent as ever, brother dearest.”
“D- don’t call me that when you’re f- fucking me, bastard.” He answered with a sharp tug on the blond hair in his grasp, eliciting a curse.
“I’m not fucking you yet,” he pointed out, sounding a little breathless all of a sudden, as he bit down on his collar bone hard, making Iceland mewl and squeak. A nice little red mark was forming, and Norway couldn’t help the feeling to pride, as he ran his tongue over the sensitive skin. “Lube?”
Iceland made a little noise of affirmative, apparently losing his ability to speak. He groped sideways, shaking his head when Norway tried to stop him, and reaching out to grab whatever it was, that was apparently over the edge of his bed.
Neither of them quite realised how close to the edge of the bed they were before Iceland managed to get caught on thin air and started to slide sideways. There was a scrambling for something to grab a hold of, and a few moments of devastated grumbling as they realised they probably weren’t going to catch themselves.
One loud thump later, and they were in a rather uncomfortable pile on the floor.
Iceland let out a rather loud noise of complain, reaching up to pull of his blindfold, and shoving Norway surreptitiously off him. And Norway just let him, sitting up in a dazed manner, coming down from the high of foreplay into the pain of wooden floors. “Nothing wants us to have sex at the moment, do they!”
Norway hummed slightly, murmuring under his breath his agreement and shuffling uncomfortably. “The Powers are against us…”
“Would you stop shifting? I’m sensitive enough as it is!”
He just stared for a minute. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Arrgh shut up!”
Norway rolled his eyes, before shifting a little so he could remove whatever was jabbing in his arse. The little clear plastic bottle took a moment to register, before he broke down into a fit of laughter that he couldn’t quite stop. Iceland gave him a look of complete and utter annoyance, only to receive a bottle of lube thrown at his chest.
I don't think I've got anything to say but be prepared for badly written, cliche fluff.
Merry Christmas, Manon! God Jul uwu
The air was cold, but neither of them really noticed, one too busy wrapped in the world around him and one stuck with his own thoughts. The windows around them were lit up with fairy lights, making them look as Christmassy as possible. They sparkled off the glass, despite the sunlight that was counteracting most of the light they emitted, washing out the fake snow and Christmas trees on the displays inside. It was garish and unnecessary, but such was the Yuletide holiday, the Dane supposed.
“Hey, Norge,” he spoke out loud, pausing for a moment to blow into his hands and rub them together. “Why do you think everyone is so obsessed with the consumerism of Christmas?”
The Norwegian groaned, pressing gloved fingers to his nose. “Denmark, honestly, I don’t think I could give you an answer.”
He hummed something under his breath, before reaching out to take a hold of the cold hand beside him, only to have it tugged away at the last moment. He pouted, but didn’t say anything. “Oh, come on, Norge! You have to have some idea.”
“It’s just one of those things,” Norway huffed, completely ignoring the other in favour of watching the people milling around them, though his eyes looked glazed over. “Something that has developed through the generations, which while I’m sure people have theorised as to why, it is just one of those things that come with the strange need humans have. Can’t we just leave it at that?”
The Dane seemed to mull it over a moment, before shrugging. He didn’t seem to have an argument against that. Gently shoving the other sideways, he pushed open the door to a nice looking coffee shop, and watched for a moment as the warm air from inside gushed out and covered them both, making Norway hum with bliss, and smile his happy little smile, it only for a moment. Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but Denmark did. The tension had dropped him his shoulders and he could see how relaxed Norway had become.
Directing the other to sit, ordering took only moments as Denmark tried to avoid the usual banter he had with serving staff, instead just wanting something warm to drink and something good to eat, so that he could sit back down.
He hoped he’d ordered the right kind of coffee, when he placed it in front of the other and saw the scrutiny it was getting. It must have passed whatever test he had for it, however, because moments later Norway was drinking deeply, sighing happily as he moved the cup away, making Denmark smile himself. They were seated in a rather secluded and dull corner, and as Denmark looked over the mismatched furniture he started to realise why. He couldn’t see the counter from here, or the majority of the customers. By picking seats all the way in the corner, Norway had provided himself (and, in turn, his beloved Dane) a safe haven from the prying eyes of the world.
The man opposite him pulled him from his thoughts, however, by tapping his nails against the cup in his hands in an automatic way, which, while irritating, Denmark chose to take in his stride. “Distracted, Norge?” Two deep blue eyes glanced at him, and he smiled automatically.
“Something like that.”
Trying not to frown worriedly, he continued. “Is something on your mind?”
He glanced away, finger tightening on the white ceramic. “… Yes. Something like that.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
The sharp scrape of the chair was completely unexpected and made Denmark jump in shock. The coffee had been abandoned on the table, pushed in his direction. For a moment he’d thought he’d crossed a line, until the other began to move around the table, and he watched simply as the Norwegian played to whim and pushed himself onto the bench beside him. He didn’t dare move, wondering whether he was about to be told off for prying; his tendency to seek approval bubbling to the surface.
And then he watched as Norway leant down to lean on his shoulder, pulling one of Denmark’s arms around himself. Their fingers laced together, and he couldn’t help the confused look that crossed his face. Norway sighed.
“It’s cold.”
Denmark opened his mouth, about to retort that, really, Norway should have been able to deal with the cold. And then he realised that was probably beside the point. Excuses for public displays of affection would always be common between the two of them, and he knew what would happen if he questioned them.
He could feel the other shifting against him, happily adjusting himself and relaxing against the other, his spare hand going to take some of the ginger cake that Denmark had almost completely forgotten about, sighing happily.
He laughed, pressing his lips into the hair on the top of his head. “Oh, you’re adorable.”
The little flecks of red on his cheeks were almost invisible, unless you knew what to look for.
anyway, this is my entry for Surstrommiakki on dreamwidth. i wrote it in about three hours, so it's not great, but i didn't have much time - the funny thing is, i used the prompt i hadn't planned for at all, on a whim that i'm glad i had!
prompt: fire
Finland had never been afraid of fire. It had always had a strange sense of mystery about it; a force that could be created in so many different ways, that he had never truly understood. Even when science had explained why fire was started, he had still never understood. It had always just been a force of nature that would be held in reverence and without questioning.
But it still wasn’t until he was faced with a life or death situation that he truly understood why he should have been afraid of fire.
The date was September 4th. It was getting late, almost nine in the evening, and Finland, who had been faced with a day of paperwork and organisation, under the official name of the Grand Duchy of Finland. Russia, who at that point had been his mentor and friend, had been helping him with the paperwork, still teaching him despite the fact that it had been almost twenty years since he had slipped under the Russian’s wings.
It was only around five minutes later that he could hear someone pounding on the door of his flat. He had hardly expected it, considering his neighbours were rather like he was; hard working bachelors that were making a name for themselves before (or while) looking for a partner to share their life with. They weren’t unsociable, but they definitely weren’t the kind of person to turn up without announcing before hand, and especially not on a Tuesday, considering they would all have work in the morning.
The man behind his door was in a surprising state of undress, wearing only a shirt and waistcoat, not even wearing a tie or a jacket. But then the words left his mouth and suddenly it made sense.
“Fire. In the northern quarter. They want us ready to move in case they can’t control the flames.”
He nodded, not really listening to what was happening in terms of detail as much as the vital word that he needed. Fire. And it was heading towards them at a steadily growing pace, which they wouldn’t be able to outrun if they were caught in the middle of it.
In the end, he simple replaced his clothing, before grabbing his satchel. There wasn’t much that needed to be placed in it; a lot of his precious items of clothing that been removed when he had left the Swedish Empire. But he still had a few things, that didn’t seem that important normally but now he realised that he couldn’t live without. The last thing he took was the three little, leather bound notebooks that he carefully took a hold of. One that was full of drawings of flowers and birds and plants that he needed to keep an eye on – a book of edible nature that could only get more helpful. Then there was the little book of history, which he had filled with stories that the others had told him, ever since he was little, making his mind remember the stories that he hadn’t heard in years when he was away from the other Nordics. The last he had filled up in the past few years, drawing scenes that he could remember only somewhat when he closed his eyes and thought about it hard enough. He couldn’t have left them behind.
There was another banging on the door, and this time Finland knew that there wouldn’t be someone behind it. They were simply telling him to get a move on, before he lost his chance to leave completely.
Outside of the building, he could see the flickering lights of the flames further behind them, and in some horrible way it almost looked like there would definitely be some damage to where he was staying, and he honestly hoped that he had taken everything that he needed.
It took three hours for him to start burning. He couldn’t understand it, but he could feel a strange tingling under his skin, as he continued to pull off the stuffy clothing that was suffocating his skin. His temperature was rising; something which he couldn’t quite understand.
His skin felt like it was burning alive, peeling away as he burned. He could feel himself moving around erratically, chest tightening as he tried to draw in breath that he didn’t have, and wrapped himself up in a systematic failure of his limbs and organs. He couldn’t understand what was happening, as his mind told him that the fire had been a long, long time ago, and yet he was burning in a way that couldn’t be stopped. He was going to keep burning. He was going to keep burning and die.
He could feel his limbs being pinned to his sides, making him screech indignantly as his body rejected the putrid air around him, each breath burning as the heat scorched his throat and lungs. His chest was growing tight, as if he was inhaling an unknown smoke, even though it wasn’t actually there.
His body dropped as his nerves became desensitised, so burnt up that the sensation of pain made them short out, sending him into a state of numb bliss, that he could hardly argue with.
And then his eyes shot open, and he jolted up from where he was sleeping. The pressure moving itself away from his arms, allowing them to jump to his throat, clutching at it as he gasped for breath.
After a few moments, however, he could feel his eyes moving back into focus, and he glanced around in confusion. His mind couldn’t gauge where he was. At a desk, yes, but there were no specifics about the room that he could tell. He definitely wasn’t at home – and he definitely wasn’t at Turku either, either, thank goodness.
A hand placed itself on his shoulder, and he jumped higher than perhaps warranted. He couldn’t figure out who it would be, before the muted English mumbling told him exactly who it was.
“Y’okay, Finland?”
“Sverige…” he muttered back, moving himself to lean against the other. “Are you seriously speaking English? That’s rather insulting. Do you find my Swedish that appalling?”
The other man laughed, dropping into the seat beside him and pulling himself closer, before swapping to his native tongue almost immediately. “Why is that the first thing you think of? You were having a nightmare, and you’re more worried that I dislike your manner of speaking.”
“Wouldn’t you be?” he pointed out with a shrug, before shuffling closer himself, settling his head onto the Swede’s shoulder. “And I wasn’t having a nightmare.”
For a minute he could sense an argument brewing, but the other didn’t press it. They both had explosive tempters, even if Sweden would hide his with an air of ease, on the contrary to his Finnish partner, who could never hide his temper. Instead, a pair of arms wrapped around Finland’s waste, pulling him closer to the other, and allowing the Swede to tilt his head to one side and rest it on top of the other’s. It was there that they sat for a few sweet moments, before they started talking again.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Finland huffed, tilting his head so that he couldn’t see the other, even if that meant burying his head into the other’s shoulder. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“It’s better to talk about this. Are you sure you don’t...”
“Yes.”
“We could just-”
“No!”
The sharp answers drew the other to a halt for a moment, making Sweden pause, and allowing the other a few grateful milliseconds to stew over what was happening. But then the prying started again, and he was once again mystified by how much the Swede could glimpse from him, despite how obtuse he acted.
“It was the Fire again, wasn’t it?”
“… Maybe.”
It wasn’t something that could be hidden, as the other pulled him in just a little closer than perhaps necessary. Turku had been a bad memory for both of them, if only because at the time the University had been burnt down; something which had been a wonderful connection to his time under Sweden, even if he had been rather resentful.
He could feel the other nuzzling into the hair on the top of his head, pressing gentle kisses in an overly soothing manner. “You have that nightmare a lot, don’t you.”
It wasn’t a question, but he was going to take it as one. Finland was not one to admit defeat over something as simple as a nightmare.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry,” he muttered, glancing up and around the room for a moment. “But what are you doing here? I didn’t expect you to be here…”
“You feel asleep in the middle of a meeting.”
“I what?”
He could feel his cheeks heating up, as he jumped upright in a way that must have dislodged Sweden was his perch. The arms around his waist tightened, but his own slammed down on the table in protest. He didn’t want that, not at all. He could slowly feel his mind piecing the information back together, and seeing where it had all come from. They had been meeting with the other Nordics, for the sole purpose of the fact their bosses made them, so while it hadn’t been the most important, it was something he couldn’t have skipped, as tempted as he knew he had been that morning. And now, by the sounds of it, his body had made him skip it anyway, and not in the way he had wanted, either!
(Truth be told, the way he had wanted had been rather dumb in his own mind; not much of a romantic, but still wanting to take the other away with him to somewhere a little nicer, and hopefully be able to sit any watch the sunset and the stars of evening over Stockholm like he and Sweden always used to.)
“Oh, God,” he whispered to himself, hands moving up to hold his head, as the other stroked fingers through his hair. “Denmark, Norway and Iceland. Where are they? I didn’t interrupt the meeting, did I?”
He could feel the Swede shrug behind him. “The meeting was over. Told them I’d look after you. Didn’t think you’d want them around when you woke up… Didn’t expect you to have a nightmare, though.”
He could feel the other getting stiffer as much as his sentences became clipped, probably stemming from Finland’s tension moving to Sweden, in some weird connection that Finland supposed they must have always had, but that he could never understand.
“They’re pretty common,” he replied, not getting any louder than before. “Don’t know how you could have ruled one out.”
“Didn’t. Just didn’t expect you to have one now.”
He leaned backwards, allowing himself to sit comfortably against the other, and place his own hands over Sweden’s, so that their fingers could mingle on the top of his stomach. Sweden took advantage of his craned neck, pressing small kisses just underneath his jaw. “Don’t think they minded.”
“Urgh, I don’t care whether they minded. It’s just embarrassing to pass out in the middle of a meeting, you know?” He stretched himself out completely, allowing himself to loll back even more. “As long as they didn’t see my nightmare.”
“They didn’t,” Sweden laughed, before shaking his head. “Bet they wouldn’t have known what to do, if they had. Even Norway isn’t that good.”
“He would have managed,” the other disagreed, humming his approval as he felt the other grin against his skin. “But let’s not talk about it. We have some spare time. Go somewhere?”
There was a moment without words, where the other seemed to think about the offer, before shaking his head. “As long are your okay.”
Finland laughed. “I’m always okay, remember? But what time is it? You must be getting starving.”
”Not really,” the Swede admitted, before conceding. “Let’s just go and wander around the city. Can find somewhere to sit and talk for a while?”
He shot the other a smile, and watched as the other smiled back at him, before he wiped the smile away in a sweet, but pressured kiss, that showed the strange and desperate connection that they had to each other. It was a feeling of necessity and need, as well as a burning passion for closeness that made him grab the other by the shirt to keep him as near as possible.
”Sounds perfect.”
And then they were kissing again, and his body felt warm. The burning was almost as painful as it had been in his dream, but at least this time he knew that the consequences would be good.
i thought you might want to see what you were letting yourselves in for.
note: this is nanowrimo - while the work has been spell checked, that's it. i haven't read it since i wrote it. it's probably rubbish. but oh well.
current word count: 1,745
The trees were tall, the sky was blue, and the landscape was covered in sheets of shimmering, damp green. Unlike in most forests, the trees were quite far apart, trunks spindly and reaching upwards rather than outwards, competing for sunlight, while the leaves spread out in glistening fans of needle like green. The moss was moist, helped by the rivulets and streams of water that criss-crossed through the entire landscape, especially after the melted snow of the Scandinavian winter. The whole floor was damp, soft, and squidgy enough that it was slippery to stand on. Flattening in its own weight, the mushrooms and fungi stood outright and simple. The fresh shoots of plants were masked in the constant green. Little patches of brown and grey stood upright. Sprigs of silvery green leaves were beginning to sprout upright.
It was unusually quiet for the time of the year. Hibernation season was over - animals were waking up, smelling the fresh air, and heading out to find their first fresh meal of the year. All of the greens were there for the picking, revitalised in the beauty of spring. But the nature of the forest was hiding, making itself silent and trying to hide itself from the strange noises coming from the forest floor.
He clambered around, slipping and sliding as his bare feet - skin fresh, young, and smooth - failed to grip the ground that held him in place. He could have cried, the pain of the cold and the freshness and the startling colours overwhelming the young mind that had never before seen the light of day.
He choked a few times, sobbing tears that he didn't understand. He didn't know what caused them, or what they were. All he knew is they hurt everything. It wasn't like the red lines on his arms and legs and hands and feet - accidents he'd had over and over since he had woken up on the sharp rocks and rough bark. They were real pain; pain that coursed through his body and made him want to collapse to the floor and return to the ground from once he came.
The world was overwhelmingly beautiful.
He didn't have a name. Or an age. Or a home. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know where he'd been. All he knew is he had to move. His breathing was a mess, harsh and sticking, and painful. Another part of his body hurt as well. His stomach. It ached for something he couldn't understand, almost as much as his throat scratched and stiffened.
His feet slipped from under him, and the boy hit his legs once again, the sharp pain jolting through his bones. Warm, red liquid ran down his leg. He made a noise of complaint, patting against the limb gently. He couldn't understand why his leg cried tears of berry red, while his eyes cried tears as clear as the sky. All he knew is that the pain made them cry; made different parts of him cry. Was that why his stomach hurt? Was it crying?
What was crying? Why could he suddenly understand what was happening? Why was his mind suddenly telling him things?
His head hurt as well. The overload of senses and information were brutal, painful in a way that a boy without words could never fathom to describe. His whole body ached with pain and misunderstanding and understanding... He couldn't do it. He just couldn't do it.
He wretched, hands reaching out wildly to find the nearest rivulet of water, hands cupped together in a quivering mess that wasn't tight enough to hold the water. It ran out straight away, the sharp cold of melted snow making him squeak from over stimulation. He tried and kept trying, slowly becoming frantic as his body tried to make him throw up something that wasn't there. He could feel more than he'd ever felt, as his mind slowly settled in to the painful ability to feel everything and everyone who belonged to him; even now when it wasn't many, it was a painful reality that he couldn't cope with.
Throat tightening and loosening as it tried to make him vomit something that wasn't there, the boy gave up on the water, leaning down far enough that his face was touching the ice cold liquid. He couldn't figure out what to do past that, but in his lack of understanding he did something that felt like breathing, but the water didn't enter his throat. The rest was automatic, the pain hurting but the relief even better. His head jumped upright, head flicking backwards, water dripping down the strands of his light-blond hair, making them stick first to each other and then to his face.
He gasped a few mouthfuls of air, before diving straight back in. He couldn't help it. It was beautiful. Wonderful. He didn't understand it but he needed it. And he had to keep doing it.
It didn't stop his stomach hurting, though. It didn't feel like it was crying, though. It felt like it was squeezing itself; trying to get something that it needed but didn't have. He mouth moved automatically, open and closed a few times around nothing but air. But it didn't just feel like opening and closing. It felt like it wanted something in it. Something solid, that it could bite through.
His hands moved automatically, scraping at the floor as hard as possible. Pieces of the moss pulled off the ground, covered in dirt and squishy. He pulled at the green, dragging it apart in the hopes of finding a bit that looked good. As the green slipped apart he stuffed a piece of the spongy material into his mouth, gagging and choking against the sticky material. It swelled with liquid, but was already so full his saliva (or what little he had of it) that it couldn't take any more. When he bit into it, the dirty water leaking into his mouth, tasting bitter and murky.
It wasn't enough. It wasn't what his body said he needed. Not even a little. Crawling on hands and knees he scrambled for something better, something closer to what he needed. When he came up with nothing, he could feel the tears rising again, overwhelmed by the feelings and the situation and everything just getting over his head-
A roar broke through the trees.
Loud, low and guttural.
The boy jumped. His feet pounded against the ground, slipping over and over as he tried to move. He couldn't pull himself up, as the dark brown shape moved closer and closer towards him. Unable to move properly, it soon became obvious that he wasn't going to out move her. In fact, the opposite was being true. It was going to catch him.
He was barely out of the open space that he'd found himself in, before the bear swiped a paw around him, pulling him back against its - her - body.
He screeched, not really able to scream but able to make enough noise that other animals took it as a warning cry, copying the noises of distress into their own. Everyone was echoing into the background; the distress of one, tiny boy bouncing into the hearts of everything that could hear.
But the bear didn't jump badly, instead pulling the smaller boy in close, moving to lick a rough, leathery tongue against the top of his head, blond hair sticking upright thanks to rough movements and saliva.
After a few more moments of flailing around, the boy stopped, shaking against the hold and against himself as he tried his best to figure out what was happening. After mere hours of being alive, filled with pain and confusion, something snapped into place. Everything seemed to calm down in his mind, and fingers interlaced themselves with thick strands of brown fur. She was warm, and comfortable, and the boy buried himself against her in the hopes of getting closer to the comfort her was now feeling.
The mother bear made sure to keep him warm and clean for another few moments, before she moved away from the other. His fingers didn't remove themselves from the place they were knotted. Instead, she manoeuvred herself until he was on her back, easily seated and securely attached before, really, the force of a bear is much more than the force of any man, be it one born naturally, or one born of the earth. So he had no choice but to move a little, before his hands cemented back into place.
As she moved, the small boy squeaked, trying to find the position that meant he didn't fall, or bounce around to much, rather following the sleek, arcing movements that the bear's shoulders and spine naturally made. Claws managed to dig their way into the ground with a lot more ease than human skin had, not slipping on the moist mosses. Thick hide made her immune to the sharp, cutting edges of various stones and plants, that he had easily fallen prey to.
Within only a few moments, he was yawning. The bear made a quiet, keening noise. He head lulled, nodding back and forth in an attempt to stop the rocking rhythms from keeping him awake. Every so often he would fall forward, arms holding him upright releasing as the muscles relaxed, making him drop, only to jolt upright seconds later. Small children have small bodies, that can hold very little energy compared to what if necessarily needed to keep them awake.
By the time they came across the cave system, he was silent. No reaction came as she laid on the floor, adjusting herself to make the other fall against her limbs and the hard, stone floor that made up her home and her nest. She had spent the last few days awakening, and the change between hibernation and life caused her own exhaustion levels to rise. Adding a child into the mix made it worse. At least now she would have some company other than the males who would turn up soon enough, wanting her for one reason and one reason only.
He let out a quiet sigh, cuddling further into the soft fur. It was warm. Warmer than he had ever felt. Faced with a world of cold, he'd suddenly found warmth. And he liked it.
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