y’know , if he weren’t the one bein hussled by the brat , he might’ve been proud . maybe . just a bit . only in some circles .

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y’know , if he weren’t the one bein hussled by the brat , he might’ve been proud . maybe . just a bit . only in some circles .
olivia rushes to give her dad a tender hug the moment he walks through the door— chirping, so lovingly earnest in her excitement to see him.
* OH SWEET CHILD , YOU ARE SO YOUNG , FULL OF SO MUCH TENDER YOUTH . skeleton thinks of her a flower , blooming , so many petals , golden faced and green roots / how she sings of gentle love he will never deserve . like a flower , a flower , a flower FOR ALL IT’S EYES , WATCHING YOU , SPLIT GRIN AND SHARP TEETH .
( in the end , we all return to the dirt . )
( but blooms in the cracks , they eat until you are nothing but bones . )
he’s come home empty handed and skull hollow to a blossom that he tends to like a garden , but a weed in his home , his heart , rooted in his soul and crept through his ribs . OH , WHAT SUNLIGHT DO YOU FIND THERE , IN THE BROKEN CRACKS OF HIS FACADE ?
her hug is met by a slow , dusty hand settling on tangled snarls of hair . the rest of him is still , rusted ax , oh , dropped so gently .
( it slams to the floor . )
“ * i’m sorry, ” a voice says , and the carpet is hell on his weak , breaking knees . oh , it’s his voice , quiet against child’s throat , nasal ridge tucked against her chin , fingers creeping in . “ * i’m sorry. ”
he doesn’t know what dead creature speaks in his voice , but they mean it .
they mean it , clutching beloved weed close .
unprompted asks . /@bravest
she looks fearless in the light of stars . where did she come from ? he’s stopped asking : GUILT may tear at those hearts of his , but he can only account for so much of it . at least , here in the bathed light of open doors and spanning sky , bravery will find a better home .
she belongs here . he would not take a child from it’s home , not with that heart of hers , snug betwixt his and master’s both . “ isn’t it past your bed time? ” mirth lines the words , not a hint of malice . isn’t he , too ? somewhere their companion rests , but here he finds her standing on the edge before galaxies , his long fingers trailing through hair , gentle as he sits .
“ what do you think? the barixta galaxy, home of the flungoons. rather like that word fluuungooons. whole race powered by sunlight since birth, growing to be shapers of the very stars themselves. ” a breath : words to fill the absence , “ ... that and they make the best banana pudding this side of the universe. ”
starter call . / @bravest