#writetober

[shallyouobeyme]

From the Outside

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2 (Coming soon)

Platonic!Yandere Batfam x Neglected Batsib!reader (GN)

Summary: You were living your life as a stranger in the house you were supposed to call home, an outsider in a group of people who were supposed to be your family. So you do your best to keep yourself distracted from your situation and go on with your life. But just how long will you be able to keep on with that?

! Minors Do Not Interact !

Requested by @sol565

TW: Not much in this one, neglect (obviously), loss of relatives, car crash (mentioned), cancer (mentioned), swearing, coming up to Yandereness in the next chapters. I'll try to proofread and edit once I finish the whole thing.

Last night you dreamed of your family again. It was a pleasant dream, one that had you wishing to keep on dreaming even after you were woken up by your alarm. All of you were sitting at the dinner table, enjoying Alfred’s excellent cooking. The room was filled with happiness and joy, the kind of atmosphere that has you reminiscing about that day for ages. In your dream you felt so weightless, Damian was sitting opposite you as he listened to you talk about your day, an anecdote of you leading to laughter filling the room. Your mother ruffled your hair from where she was sitting beside you and as you smiled up to her you felt filled with love. Around the table, the Waynes were actively interested in the conversation and Bruce was asking you a question leading to a cheeky comment from your left side. You knew what was said, but you couldn’t understand the voice. Confused you looked to where your father should be sitting but only a distorted shadow figure looked back at you. 

It opened whatever would be most akin to a mouth and a blaring sound echoed out of it. Your eyes flew open as you slapped your bedside table to grab your phone. 7 A.M, time to get up. This dream had been haunting you for a few weeks now, the idyllic family dinner turning into an unpleasant reminder of your situation. At first, you had woken up in a cold sweat and slightly fearful from the end, but by now you had grown very accustomed to it. Just another part of your day to get through. 

You accepted to pay the mental price for the opportunity to see your mother again, if only during the nights. 

Another look at your phone to check the notifications and you got up and got dressed. Given the time you knew that you still had enough time to join your adopted siblings for breakfast, but even Alfred's amazing pancakes and french toast could to move you into the kitchen. Deciding to just nap something from your friends during lunch break at school, you grabbed your bag and jacket before quickly making your way through the manor. Like almost every morning you silently prayed that you wouldn’t come across anyone on your way to the front door. Eighty per cent of the time you were lucky, fifteen per cent you were just ignored and the other five per cent you found yourself stuck in painfully awkward small talk with the people who lived on the same floor as you. People who were supposed to be your closest friends and confidants. People who weren’t that. People who were more akin to strangers.

Today you were in luck as you managed to slip out of the giant house you hated to call home without having to talk to anyone. Getting onto your scooter, you made your way to the school, enjoying the air in your face through the helmet and the feeling of freedom that only came to you on rare occasions. 

The school was still fairly empty when you arrived - as was expected - so you had the honour of walking through the empty halls like you owned the place. A sentiment that some of your schoolmates even believed. You wanted to tell them that you had no need for your Guardians money, no interest in his family’s name or his family’s reputation. Bitter thoughts filled your mind, leaving a taste of anger, of disappointment, of anguish on your tongue. They weren’t helped by what you saw when you stopped in front of the trophy showcase. There were pictures of some of the best former student-athletes that had attended the school, and the most recognizable was a picture that was proudly displayed right on eyesight. It was at a sporting event that had happened some twenty to thirty years earlier, one that was still held bi-annually. The winners of different disciplines were smiling proudly into the camera, arms around each other. 

Taking the spotlight was a man that every proud Gothamite would recognize as a young Bruce Wayne on one side, a different boy who people tended to overlook based on his less noticeable features and the lack of fame he had, and in the middle of both of them stood Bruce’s former best friend. Your mother. Your late mother. 

She had been a beautiful, stunning, talented woman. Everyone who had ever known her told you that. You tried to take some solace in the fact that they told you how alike the two of you were, both in looks and in personality. It did nothing to quell the underlying pain though, the pain still boiling inside you, pain that over the years had turned into anger. You weren’t angry with your mother, of course, you knew that she had not chosen to fall sick, that she had not chosen to succumb to cancer. She had loved you with all her heart and only ever wanted you to be happy. This is why, when your grandparents died in a shooting shortly after her diagnosis, she put it in her will that after her passing you were to be taken care of by her lifelong friend Bruce Wayne. After all, he already had kids and he was rich, just like she and her parents had been - money and estates that now waited on you to turn 18 to take charge of - and he’d be surely able to give you the life and the love she always wanted you to have. 

Sadly, your mother had not known Bruce quite as well as she had believed she did. She had no idea that he spent his nights as the infamous Batman, or that the kids he adopted had been turned into fighting machines - sometimes even killers. She had no idea that he was not the amazing, loving and attentive father figure she had wanted you to have. Not even close. 

You suppose he had tried at one point. When you were a young child, grieving the loss of your entire family and everything that you had known, he had taken you in like one of his own and assured you that from then on he’d protect you. Back then you had believed him. After all, your mother had told you so many great things about him, why should she lie. And with elder brothers and sisters, a Butler who made sure you had your favourite foods whenever you felt sad and a man who tried his best to be the father you never had. They did lots of work to spend time with you and to pay attention to you which would ensure you wouldn’t notice their weird habits and absences. But of course that couldn’t work forever. After a few months, you found out about their best (and somehow at the same time worst) kept secret and as you walked through the Batcave by Bruce’s side everything changed. He didn’t directly offer to train you, but he did insinuate that it was an option, though you declined. You couldn’t see yourself hurting others. You wanted to help like your mom had helped, by volunteering, bettering the world peacefully. Bruce had assured you that that was a completely acceptable decision and that it wouldn’t change anything. But he had lied. Perhaps knowingly, perhaps not. Maybe some of both. 

Once you were aware of their second life, they didn’t put in the effort to pay enough attention to you to make you unaware of their secret. At first, they still spent time with you, but over time it seemed like you were blending into obscurity like a special bottle of champagne that was planned to be open on a special occasion only. Just that the bottle was usually remembered after the occasion had passed in annoyance. You weren’t. And as you phased out of their minds and into oblivion, you made peace with your place in the family. An outsider, a stranger inside their house, just waiting until the time had come for you to finally live your own life. 

Of course, you knew you could have it worse. You had enough money to fulfil every wish you had as long as it was material, always had something to wear, something to eat, and somewhere to sleep. The only thing you didn’t have was love. But especially in Gotham you knew that you got away rather luckily with that, so while you were deeply angry towards the people who had promised to treat you like family, to love you, you also tried to just get on with your life. 

It would have been easier if it wasn’t just so hard to look at your so-called siblings as if you didn’t resent them for the way they treated you, compared to one another. Somehow showing any interest in you or attempting to spend any time with you was a chore, but somehow Jason and Cass could have a little book club, Jason and Dick could go out for lunch at a cat-cafe, Steph, Cass and Tim could have Spa-days and all of them could have an occasional movie night together. It wasn’t explicitly stated that you weren’t welcome, but you had seen how they acted when you were with them compared to how they acted when you were hiding behind the door listening in. They seemed so much happier without you. As if your mere presence ruined the mood. So you started rejecting their invitations to join and it only took one of two attempts of them to stop asking completely. 

You might have been able to cope better with the obvious dismissal of your existence if it had been because you hadn’t been part of the family when they had forged their close bond, but somehow, even when Damian joined, acting like a complete asshole to everyone around him, they managed to include him and when he warmed up to them he joined their close group. 

So your newness surely could not have been that big of an issue right? Even Damian, completely new to the family and surely aggressive towards all of his pseudo siblings, seemed to know you were less than the others since he didn’t even bother to insult you, instead opting to ignore you. Completely. A glance spared, looking you up and down, and he had decided you were not worth it and his opinion seemingly still hadn’t changed. Sure by now you had talked with him a few times, but you could say the same about the fucking mayor of Gotham so you were sure that did not really count. 

Sometimes, you lay in your bed at night, wide awake, wondering just why you were worth so much less in their eyes. What you had done wrong. Two answers usually presented themselves before you. Either it was because you weren’t a vigilante, something that you might even have been willing to accept, or it was… you. Just you. And for some reason, that was the answer that seemed more plausible to you. Maybe you were just unpleasant to be around, not fitting enough for their family. Not interesting enough, not Wayne enough. 

And so you were cursed to live your life like a ghost in what is supposed to be your home. Going in and out every day, just waiting for the day to come when you could move into the penthouse your grandparents had bought you before they died, which would become your legal property in just a few years. You’d start anew. Maybe one day, after a long time and probably a lot of therapy, you’ll be able to start your own family. One that you’d promise not to fuck up like Bruce had. Until then though, you’d go on like always, spend as little time in that Manor as possible and try to distract yourself from your reality. 

You really did spend very little time at the manor. For one, no one in that house cared when you left or when you came back except maybe Alfred, but even he either knew that you could properly use the freedom or he was too busy to care. Probably a mix of both. And along with that, you had started a very active life outside of your family. You had a lot of friends, though you were not ready to call any of them close friends, always knowing about how many of them were after the publicity of your actual and current family name and the money and fame connected to it. But they were nice enough and they distracted you so you didn’t mind. Especially because you used said popularity to help the people in town. You managed to get a lot of your friends to volunteer alongside you in different homeless shelters, though a lot of them tended to post dozens of pictures which made you feel a bit icky about them trying to profit from helping others, but you knew you couldn’t complain because it did help the shelters. The shelters told you so themselves. 

Most of your ‘pocket money’ was donated and the rest of the time was spent doing different activities, be it arts, sports, parties or just wasting the day away. You did your best to cram as much into your day-to-day life as you could to keep you from thinking too much. To stop you from thinking too much about how messed up you were now, how you couldn’t even confide in any of your friends, how you didn’t even really manage to call them your friends, because you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone close to you anymore, because you knew you weren’t worth it, because you knew you’d be disappointed and hurt again. 

These dark thoughts were kept inside, slowly eating at you like termites, while on the outside you kept on being the happy-go-lucky Gotham personality that people loved to follow. Though you didn’t post a lot on your own social media, your friends and people around you did, which the public loved for some reason. And so you kept up the act, because what else could you do? Let people know you’re hurting? So they could ridicule you for your rich people's problems? Or keep out of the public eye? And have to face the lonely darkness that was your life? No, you’d rather keep on pretending like you had been for years now. Even if it meant being a piece of entertainment for other people who could turn on you at any second. 

The day at school was mostly uneventful, only a short moment of passing by Damian ruined your mood as your classmates did their usual shtick of asking if that wasn’t your brother and you trying to shrug them off, after all, how do you explain that your brother treated you like air not worth breathing? So you changed the topic by announcing that you’d go help out at a local shelter after school and asked if anyone wanted to join. Some excused themselves but a few agreed, which led to a group of five of you coming into the shelter a few hours later after some mandatory selfies so keep your friends placated. There was a bit more traffic inside than usual - a few people definitely not in need of help - which was probably because one of your friends posted your plans on their socials. That was something that you had to begrudgingly accept. You couldn’t afford their anger, so you made a compromise with them that they could post stuff like that, but that they couldn’t post the exact location (which in your opinion was just common sense, but it seemed not a lot of people shared that).

Ignoring the people only there to see you or be near a Wayne, you focused on helping those who needed your help, though aware of the effect you could have on the shelter business, you helped out in the kitchen where people couldn’t see you. You didn’t mind, you liked cooking and you and the fellow kitchen staff had a sort of harmonized rhythm. It even helped you get lost in thoughts that didn’t make you wanna cry, so when you got interrupted in your flow, you almost jumped in shock. One of the organizers had tapped on your shoulder. 

“Y/N, there’s a man outside that wants to talk to you,” Marcus told you and nodded towards the door to the front.

“They still haven’t left? I’m really sorry Marc, if you think it’s better if I leave, then I will,” you sighed, annoyed by the turn of events. 

“No, it’s not a fan. At least I think, he’s- well, he claims to have something really important to talk to you about. He gave me this to show to you, said it’ll show you he’s serious,” Marcus shrugged and held a picture out to you. It was an old Polaroid of a young couple smiling into the camera. Your breath hitched. 

“Is he the guy in the picture?” you asked with a newly found seriousness.

“Yes, at least he looks like it. Is the woman-”

“Yeah, could we use the office? Only if you’re okay with it, of course.”

“Sure, no problem, go ahead, I’ll bring him to you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” you earnestly smiled at Marcus as you made your way to the door that led to the office. You were used to being nervous, but not quite as nervous as you were then. This could change a lot of things, everything if it was what you imagined it to be. You looked at the picture in your hand again before sitting down behind the desk and putting it down on the desk. There were steps behind the door coming closer, so you took a deep breath as you wiped your hands on your pant legs. The door opened and in came a man who looked just like the guy from the Polaroid. He seemed familiar, not just from that snapshot of the past, but something in his face rang a bell in your memories. You mustered him, trying to keep a stern exterior as you didn’t know if this was going to be what you thought it would be. 

Marcus gestured the man to sit down on the other side of the desk, before giving you an encouraging nod and closing the door as he left. 

“Hello,” you greeted the man, hands intertwined before you on the desk.

“Hello,” he responded alike and you could feel his curiosity burning through you. Had you misinterpreted this? Was this just another weird fan?

“This picture,” you looked at it again before sliding it towards him, “how do you know my mom?”

A/N: So, what do y'all think? Let me know in the comments or in my inbox ❤️ Also, I'd appreciate feedback on the title as well, not sure if I should change it or keep it.

[watercolorfreckles]

Writober Prompts 2022

Hi! I was looking for Writober prompts to cherrypick from this year (im not capable of writing something every day lol but want to write something spooky this year!) and i couldnt really find anything. So i made one!

Anyone is free to use this! Please tag me if you do, so that I can see what you make!! You can use this as a one-per-day thing (now that its almost oct 6th, sorryyy) or just pick the ones you like.

I'd love to use it as an ask game! So send in a number to my inbox, and if I get an idea for it, I'll write it!

Have fun getting spoopy.

General Taglist: @pinned-to-the-wahl  , @valiantlytransparentwhispers  , @distance-does-not-matter  , @redbircl  , @lilaccatholic  , @crazytwentythrees  , @thelazywitchphotographer  , @chibicelloking  , @lolafaiy , @thinkwrite5  , @putridghost  , @tobeornottobeateacher  , @sunflower1000  , @bouncyartist  , @feyriddle  , @yet-another-heathen  , @silverwhisperer1  , @distractedlydistracted  , @pensivespacepirate  , @appleejuicee  , @deflated-bouncingball   @maybe-a-cat42  , @m0chik0furan  , @mercurymomentum , @fairysprinkless  , @vuvulia , @amongtheonedaisy , @rose-pinkie  , @trappedgoose-in-a-writblr-room  , @scorpio-smiles  , @inkygemuwu  , @wolfeyedwitch  , @thewhumpmeisterx3000  , @ikiiryo , @moonquires , @lem-hhn  , @fanastywhump  , @smallangryfish  , @ladybookworm  , @freefallingup13  , @acaiaforrest  , @a-blue-comedy  , @puppyaddict , @a-person-who-likes-musicals  , @talkingsperm  , @qualitychaoslover  , @deckofaces ,@7eselt

[lumineescente]

seungjin drabble (slowtober)

hii im doing a thing called slowtober (made by @/oeildesaturne on instagram, french speaking folks check it out!! although be aware of tw mental health and eds talks) and i'm posting on twitter a seungjin au per word

for the third word of this slowtober we got "mixture"

For this word i just HAD TO (no but yes) make a little hogwarts au... I genuinely tried to think about anything else but my dear hogwarts au it got longer than expected and TO BE HONEST I COULD GO ON!!!!!! i could write all this!! hogwarts au are my favorite

not betaed this is just for fun <3

and if you want to read a seungjin hogwarts au from me you can check this already posted fic!

AND if you enjoyed this challenge who is now over you can vote on this form for your favorite that I’ll be writing into a full fic on ao3! (“soumettre” is “submit” btw)

if you want to check all the drabbles you can go here

"Did it work?" Seungmin pouts staring at the potion in front of him.

The mixture's liquid looks decent, the forms of the steam above it looks like the kind of description their teacher made during class earlier, but something is off. He looks back to the recipe, knowing very well he has not missed a step because he is always very diligent with his work and also because Hyunjin was checking after him, but still. He checks.

"I think it did," Hyunjin answers after getting close to the potion. His cheeks coloured in pink. Seungmin does not notice.

"You think or you're sure? Those are two different things." 

Seungmin smells the potion. This is what is wrong with it. It smells nothing. And the smell is surely the most important thing about this potion. It has to smell like things the person smelling loves. Seungmin expected to smell old books, something homey, maybe that pie Hogwarts serves during Halloween. But all he can smell is Hyunjin's perfume because the latter is so close to him right now, hovering over his shoulder. And to be honest they've spent so much time together lately, Seungmin feels like the perfume has penetrated his own skin.

One thing to know about Seungmin is that he hates not understanding. He will ask questions, make the researches, works the extra time if he has to. But he will get it. Whatever it might be. Usually it is school works, because ever since he has entered Hogwarts it had been his priority (obsession some might said). In exchange he keeps on being the best student, one of them at least, except in potions. Which makes no sense because potions surely is one of the most rational subject they have. Follow the instructions. Choose the right ingredients. Dont miss a step. And follow again the instructions.

The things Seungmin should be the best at! Not that he does not succeed. He just does not succeed enough. And Seungmin really wants to be a healer at St Mungo, he does not need to be good at potions. He needs to be excellent.

Except he is not and apparently books could only tell as much as they can - the disappointment he had felt upon noticing that is still indescribable - so he had gone to the only option left. Ask for help. Slytherin this year were no exception to the unspoken rule of them being the best in potions, in the person of Hwang Hyunjin who was mostly knows for his quidditch skills (Seungmin had had many opportunities to admire... notice those skills through the years).

Another thing about Seungmin is that he definitely lacks people skills, and because Ravenclaw do not share their potion class with Slytherin, he had no reason to ask Hyunjin for help. He knew from other shared times that Hyunjin is a very nice and approachable person, only has the looks of the mean cliché Slytherin but he's heard one day one of his friends telling him he could have been sorted at Hufflepuff and he agrees. Because when Seungmin suddenly showed up and ask for help to that boy he has barely talked to all their years, the boy smiled and said of course.

All that happened last year. When they were studying for their O.W.L.S and Seungmin wanted to make sure he got a O. And he got it because Hyunjin was a very good teacher, very patient, nice and funny. Even if he would often stumble on his words, somehow always made his point very clear. Plus he knew Hyunjin made space for him in his schedule which was already busy with quidditch practices, so for that Seungmin was grateful.

By the end of the year Seungmin knew he had made a friend. Which had not been the case since his first year. This plus the O.W.L.s results, his fifth year was a success. He really thought it would be the end of their lessons but it was Hyunjin who came back to him and asked him if he wanted to continue. He said yes because he genuinely enjoyed it and, if he was being honest with himself, he was scared he would have no reason to hang out with Hyunjin if not. And he really liked hanging out with Hyunjin.

This is how they ended up making amortentia from scratch on a Tuesday evening, because Seugmin completely failed making the mixture during his class in the morning.

"I'm sure it worked," Hyunjin insists, "everything seems fine."

"I cant smell anything," Seungmin tells him.

Hyunjin frowns, "get closer."

Seungmin does so, even if it is useless. He takes a deep breath it but once again all he can smell is Hyunjin's perfume. Floral, probably with lavender undertones, and a bit overwhelming at first but comforting. He shakes his head.

"Do you smell anything?" He asks his surrogate teacher.

This time he does notice the blush on Hyunjin's face.

"I do," he mutters.

Seungmin's never been a really into gossiping, he hates personal question about himself so he does not pry.

"Well, that does not make any sense," he mumbles almost to himself, "go away for a bit, please."

"What?" Hyunjin chokes up.

"I didnt mean it like that... just can you go to the other side of the room so I can focus."

If the request is odd to Hyunjin he does not protest it and do as told. Seungmin stares at the pretty forms the steam makes above the pearly mixture for a moment, deep into focusing on his senses. He closes his eyes to make sure of it. Hyunjin is not in his personal space anymore so there is no reason for his perfume to linger that much, at least he hopes so. He gets closer and closer to the potion but his nose only picks up the same scent over and over. When he opens his eyes back he is frustrated and it probably shows.

"What's going on?" Hyunjin asks him, worry in his voice tone.

"Its just all I can smell is your perfume and I dont get..."

He stops his sentence when he sees the look on Hyunjin's face, the way his blush expanded and his eyes were round. There is a moment of silence during which Seungmin is not really sure what switches in the air what kind of tension gets itself comfortable between them, nor why does it mean. Things in their relationship have always been very easy, even with Seungmin struggling in social interactions, even during the very first lesson Hyunjin had easily broken the glass between them and made Seungmin very comfortable. There is no overthinking when he is with him. It is so relaxing, so freeing.

"Seungmin," Hyunjin eventually says and it is obvious he is trying to suppress a smile on his lips, "you're the smartest person I know... but..."

Seungmin opens his mouth to protest whatever is coming after the "but".

Hyunjin shakes his head and comes back to his previous place, close, very close to Seungmin. It shuts him up because suddenly everything is different.

He sees the look in Hyunjin's eyes, the way their hands could brush against each other if they decided to, and Seungmin is paralyzed.

"I think the potion works very well because I can smell the scent of old books in the library and sugar quills."

This time Seungmin feels himself blushing. Hyunjin always buys for him sugar quills if he goes to honeydukes without him, because Seungmin likes them so much. They are basically just sugar but the way they taste and feel are very calming somehow. He has never really thought a lot about Hyunjin's actions, just categorized him as the nice kind of persons who care a lot about everything and remember little stuff. He never thought it was something special. Just something endearing about Hyunjin like so many things.

"Uh.." he clears his throat. He never is at loss of words, he knows so many words!

Hyunjin smirks and Seungmin tries to look away but Hyunjin is too close and he is everywhere in his personal space and field of vision. It is overwhelming but he does not not like it. He just does not know how to respond to it. And he is still not sure he understands it. While Hyunjin seems to understand everything. That is embarrassing.

"I really thought I was obvious and that you were acting like it was nothing because you were being polite and you didnt want to embarrass me..."

Hyunjin is slightly taller than him, he has noticed, just a few centimeters really nothing in their day to day life but right now as Hyunjin very carefully moves his head closer to Seungmin's, he feels so tiny.

"But you were just very oblivious !" Hyunjin concludes with a smile, "because you are so smart, I never thought it could be that."

"Book smart and emotions smart are different things," he breathes out.

Hyunjin laughs and it makes Seungmin's heart race. He always seems to manage to make Hyunjin laughs so brightly like that, when he has never been known to be a particularly funny person.

"That's right," Hyunjin tells him, "so I'm going to ask you then. Seungmin, do you, perhaps, like me more than just a friend?"

Seungmin knows very well that his entire face is red by now, "I never.. thought about it," he confesses.

Hyunjin smiles very gently, "I did. I actually thought about it so much I lost sleep over it because all I could think about was you and how much I like you."

Seungmin's ears are ringing and he can only hear the loud beating of his own heart, "you did..."

Hyunjin once again looks at him with those doe beautiful gentle eyes and smiles softly and Seungmin feels like he is both melting and burning.

"This might be a bit overwhelming, so..." Hyunjin says and his voice is a little less confident than before, "maybe you can think about it and I can take you out on a date this Saturday at hogsmeade... and if you dont like me then I'll never bother you again with my feelings."

"That's.... thats a very good idea."

The face Hyunjin makes is better than any academic success, Seungmin thinks.

[farming-for-affection]

I put together this prompt list for writing some short fanfics, but use it for anything you’d like! :) I went with the most Stardew Valley theme I could think of, so it’s loosely based off of seasons and festivals, with a couple of dialog and vibe prompts for variety. Have fun!

"Welcome to the Valley!”

Rain and Mud and Something Else

The Egg Festival

Asleep on the Job

“I didn’t know you needed glasses.”

The Flower Dance

A Friendly Rivalry

“I don’t get it but I’m glad it makes you happy.”

The Sun: Good or Evil??

The Luau

A Pile of Feathers on the Ground

“Wake up and come get breakfast.”

Regrets

Dance of the Moonlight Jelllies

A Favorite Beverage

When the Farmer Needs Saving

“Here, I got you a gift.”

The Stardew Valley Fair

Movie Night with the Gang

Pumpkin Spice and Apple Cider

Spirit’s Eve

The Valley’s Kids

“Was that a ghost?”

The Festival of Ice

“It’s your turn to do the dishes.”

The Nth Time They Said, “I love you.”

The Night Market

Something to Keep Out the Cold

A Photograph

The Feast of the Winter Star

“Let’s Go Home.”

[krankittoeleven]

'Tober Prompt #2 - Custom

1989

Fandom: The Sandman (TV Show, I guess, cuz it's fresh in my mind)

Pair: can be seen as the first flickerings of Dream/Hob or completely non romantic, see it as you wish

Rating: G

Warnings: None, really. Just a quick drabble of some of Dream's musing during his stay at the Burgess estate.

UPDATE: Now Also Available on AO3, with minor editing.

it does not seem to be my Destiny to free myself in time; and it does not seem that my Desire be strong enough, though I would churn my Delight into Delirium if I thought it would set me free

1989

The day is close at hand, I know this to be true.  Even here in my wretched prison, I can taste it in the sour, stale air.  Something significant is happening and I am absent from its sphere of influence. 

Was it yesterday?  

Is it tomorrow?

Is it today?

I do not know for certain the hour, the day, the week, the year.  Except I do because I know the day is near.

I hope you do not blame yourself for my absence.   

Much to my utter disappointment, it does not seem to be my Destiny to free myself in time; and it does not seem that my Desire be strong enough, though I would churn my Delight into Delirium if I thought it would set me free.

Unfortunately, my siblings have never been that helpful, at least not to me, as it were.

It pains me to think you might blame yourself for the way our last meeting ended, when it was I who was the cad, the scoundrel; the heel.  If I were human, I would probably be plagued with nightmares of that meeting.  I think about it often.    

I do so miss the dreaming.  You humans dream of marvelous, frightful, incredible, beautiful things when you are not torturing yourselves.  Much better than birds or goats or bees have ever dreamed.  Would that I could walk with you, through the dreaming.  Not the one in your head, but the one in mine.  

For now, though, I remain trapped like a rare trinket in an expensive bauble, put on display for all the world to see; surrounded by the vast emptiness of loneliness and the echoing eternities of immortality.  The boredom is enough to make an immortal wish for Death.  If only my sister would be kind enough to oblige.    

When I look beyond the glass of my confines I see stars, though not the stars that I am accustomed to.  Nevertheless I wonder if, at that moment, you see the stars too.  

And I wonder if you know that you were right, Hob Gadling.  

You were right.

I should very much like to be your friend.

--------------------------------

It's just a first stab at writing Sandman fic. Perhaps there will be more in the future.

[lectordemaldiciones]

Oct 21 – Jack O´Lantern

Ella sería artista y él lo sabía.

Aun si el público en general opinaba que Jesse debía ser un amante de una festividad como el Halloween, lo cierto del caso es que él pocas veces lo había celebrado (si no es por decir que nunca lo había celebrado). Zyonn había conocido ese secreto desde pequeño, pues él mismo había pasado de tratar de pedirle dulces a los demonios en el infierno.

Ahora la vida era mucho más mundana y si bien su tienda era visitada a menudo por compradores necesitados de pociones o amuletos de buena fortuna; la guerra ya no olía como hacia años. Después de todo, debía ser así, su hija no existiría si la guerra no fuera ya una mera historia para contar.

— Linda, dame el cuchillo. – La voz melodiosa de Kyle pronuncia, sus manos toman el cuchillo de plástico de su hija y lo deja en la mesa. Él saca la lengua y termina de formar el ojo que tanto le había costado a la niña. – Yo creo que papá debería apurarse con ese pastel, no es posible que estemos por terminar el tallado y aun no huela a calabaza.

— ¡Sí, pastel!

Jesse se giró, estaba agachado frente al horno y tenía el cabello lleno de harina. No dijo nada, pero todo se le leía en los ojos.

Púdranse, quería susurrar.

Su hija comenzó a sonreír a lo que volvió a tomar su cuchillo para acuchillar a la calabaza.

— Creo – Dijo él. – Que aun cuando eres malditamente buena tallando, mi corazón no resistirá por mucho si sigo viéndote sostener un cuchillo.

Kyle rodó los ojos, volviendo a quitarle el cuchillo a la niña y mostrándoselo a Zyonn.

— Se varios cuentos de dos niños que usaban más que cuchillos de plástico a su edad. – Le acusa Kyle. – Deja a mi ahijada divertirse con su tallado.

— Hey, tío Kyle, no le hables así a papi, luego se pone triste.

Su hija no tenía que saberlo, pero aquello no lo ayudó para nada, su mejor amigo volvió a fijar la vista en él y tomándose el vientre, comenzó a reír.

…

Vestida de maléfica, una niña de ocho años no debería verse adorable; sin embargo, Zyonn descubriría que poco esfuerzo debía realizar una pequeña de poca estatura y cabello tan rubio como el trigo para poder verse menos que adorable. Ava opinaba que todo se debía a su buena genética, pues la niña parecía más su gemela que nada. Ahora bien, el disfraz, lo había diseñado Kyle, mismo que ayudaba a cargar las linternas de Jack que con tanto esfuerzo habían tallado entre todos.

Caras tristes, alegres y desdentadas fueron dejadas en puertas de villanos y superhéroes. Zyonn se percató de cómo Dick, el padre de Jesse, trataba de ocultarse tras una ventana mientras veía a su nieta dejarle un regalo por Halloween, también cómo las cámaras de la mansión Wayne viraban hacia ellos justo en el momento en el que se acercaron, cómo Pamela había despejado su bosque para su su tránsito fuera mucho más seguro y cómo una villana vestida de arlequín se había reído al observarlos.

Aquello no fue idea de Jesse, Kyle o Zyonn, no, ellos quedaron perplejos cuando la niña había declarado que lloraría por una semana si no la dejaban convertirse en el espíritu de la noche de Halloween. Esto todo era culpa de ella, todo idea de ella.

Sí, la vida era más tranquila, Jesse sonreía mucho más, Kyle podía permitirse gastar litros de pintura si así quería, y las niñas mágicas, ahora podían ser Santa en la noche de brujas.

[shaynarlambert]

Writetober 2023 Day 5: Flies

[ofbrokenstarlight]

#writetober2023 day 5: sweaters

-

I pulled the sweater close to my chilled frame, delighting in the way the breeze swept through my blonde curls. Some would have called me insane for standing out here in such frigid weather, but in my opinion, they simply didn't understand the feeling this cold brought with it. I had waited nearly 5 months for this... 5 months of agonizing over the humidity and the sweat and the heat that caused my body to feel heavy with oppressity. Many a day I had spent inside the fan-fueled rooms of my cottage, watching from a window at the world outside... so lovely yet so unattainable. You see, it wasn't until the autumn months that I was allowed out of my cottage. That was when my magic re-ignited, starting the fire inside of me that would burn until the snow began to melt in April. During the cold months of my future, I would dance about the wood, fall colors and crisp breeze following in my wake. And now, those days had finally arrived.

A smile broke out on my freckled face, delighted laughter spilling from my lips as a particularly chilly gust of wind caused my sweater to try and escape me. I held it tighter, making my way further towards the wood as leaves crunched beneath my feet. It was time for my season of magic to begin... It was time for me to feel alive once again.

[takethemonetandletsgogh]

a poem about grief and religion

[sox-in-fox]

Day 4: Mute

The needle goes in

The needle goes out

The needle puts stitches into my mouth

The needle goes out

The needle goes in

Now I'll never talk again

[mysticsparklewings]

Inktober 2022 Day 10: Crabby 🦀

I had my doubts about this prompt when I saw it on the list, but I’m actually  NOT at all “crabby” about the results. 😆

More about the art & my process here: https://www.deviantart.com/mysticsparklewings/art/Inktober-2022-Day-10-Crabby-932631716

[shallyouobeyme]

Fortune

Platonic Yander Malfoy!Family x Dragon!reader (GN)

Summary: A long time ago there lived a species of dragon-hybrids with magical gifts. You - one of these hybrids - had the gift of bringing good fortune to whoever was close to you, but as you'd soon learn, using your gift to help others would only endanger you...

! Minors do not interact !

TW: Not Canon Complainant about the Malfoy's backstory, imprisonment, manipulation, kidnapping, infantilisation (kinda), I do not condone this - this is all fiction

One or two Centuries ago, when muggles still believed in magic and fantastical creatures roamed the earth almost freely, many more kinds of species lived in nature. Some of them were closely related to creatures still on this planet in the present. One example of such a case was a kind of dragon that had long since left the face of the earth, one that shared many similarities with the humans around it. In fact, these dragons had the ability to shift from their full dragon form to that of a bipedal, humanoid dragon-person hybrid. Further than their ability to shift though was their ability to innately use magic.

Now, their abilities were not like the abilities of wizards and witches who could put their magic into words and gestures, using their magic as a medium to achieve many different goals. Instead, they tended to be born with a specific magical talent that differed from case to case - some could control different elements (since these dragons did not naturally have the ability to breathe fire or water), some could communicate with nature, some changed the weather, and others could use their scales to make themselves invisible to any living and dead being.

One of these dragons, still a young fetchling when this story began had a rare and sought-after ability - the ability to attract fortune. Something every dragon with a knack for hoarding (so almost all) would kill for, which was why the little dragon-hybrid was told from a very young age to keep hidden from creatures that would use them and their powers for their own gain. This young dragon was you - and often, when you now fell asleep, you still dreamt of the night that would turn out to be the one to doom your entire life.

You had barely just started to fly without your parent's supervision and after being kept at home for your entire (short) life in hopes that no one would try to use you, your curiosity for real life and everything beyond the mountain you called home grew restless. So you did what any curious child with the ability to fly would do and you took off to where you knew the nearest village to be. You landed a few miles away from it, well aware that your parents would be furious beyond belief if you went into town and let your existence be known to humans. After all, your parents always did make a point of mentioning just how greedy and selfish humans tended to be.

You were a fool to not believe them. You were in your humanoid form - comparable with a human child of about eight or nine years - as you stepped into a clearing. The sound of sobbing echoed through the trees around you and your eyes fell onto a form hunched onto the floor in sobs. They looked similar to you, but a lot smoother, and without any horns or wings protruding out of their back. Honestly, they looked really strange, but your parents had described something similar to what you were seeing and they had said that these smooth wingless things were humans. Obviously, you were intrigued.

"Why are you crying?" you asked in your young, squeaky voice and the human jumped up, turning to look at you in shock. Their eyes widened even further at your appearance, but they seemed too shaken to properly realize what was going on.

"You-You're a - You're a dragon?" they finally stuttered out, their tears long forgotten. You couldn't help but giggle, of course, you were a dragon, what else were you supposed to be?

"Yes I am, and you're a human, right?" you asked and they only responded by nodding, "then why were you crying, human?"

"I-" They seemed to question their reality for a second, probably wondering if they should tell a random little dragon-hybrid their sorrows, but they responded nonetheless, "My mother... She's very ill and I don't have the money to buy the medicine she needs, I fear that she'll pass away soon and then I will be all alone in the world."

As their tears build up again, you feel yourself sympathize with the human. Sure, you had your parents, but they were travelling all of the time, leaving you to your own devices and even your siblings had been allowed to leave the nest and make a way of their own, it was just you who was kept alone in the cave under the pretence of protection. So you very well knew how it felt to be alone, to be lonely. And so you knew that if you could do something against someone else feeling like that, then you would.

"I can help you!" you exclaimed excitedly at the thought of doing something good.

"What? How?" the human - you decided that if humans were at all similar to your own kin then they must have been a man - asked, completely perplexed as you walked towards him, stopping just a step away.

"It's my gift, I can bring fortune to people, I can help you make the money you need for the medicine," you were smiling brightly now, but the human still seemed confused. 'How,' he just asked and you told him to kneel down. Usually, your presence alone was enough to attract riches and riches beyond most people's dreams, but you knew that if you wanted to help someone attract fortune without being near them, you had to use a different tactic. And so, once the man had knelt down, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and a shimmer of silver light sparkled over his face - the same silver of your scales.

After that you left for home, but before you could take off the human called out to you: "What's your name? Will I see you again?"

"I'm Y/N - and I don't know, I hope so," you responded as you took flight and the last thing they shouted to you before the distance was too large to hear them was that their name was Layton Malfoy.

After that, you used every chance you had to fly to that clearing where Layton was usually already waiting for you - he'd tell you all these amazing stories of his life and he'd entertain you, trying to be your best friend. At least you thought that was all he wanted. What you didn't realize was that slowly but surely he was trying to keep you by his side longer and longer, always finding another reason as to why you should stay, telling you how your parents were using you, about how they weren't these amazing dragons that you thought them to be. And maybe because you were just a lonely child who was just desperate for the attention or maybe because Layton was your first friend and you didn't believe friends would lie to each other, you believed him. And so after he kept telling you all these things about how he was the one who would actually protect you, about how he'd finally let you live a normal life, you left the clearing with him towards his home town - thinking about how you'd return home one day and tell your parents about how wrong they were about humans and about all the great things you lived through.

You never returned home though, in fact, you never saw your parents again. Decades later - you were now comparable to a human teenager - Layton's grandchildren had told you that the dragon-hybrids had been declared extinct after they had been hunted for their powers and their horns. The Malfoy heir told you that he was so happy that his grandfather had 'taken you in' and how the entire family just felt thankful that you hadn't been hunted as well. He elected to ignore the fact that you were shackled to a wall in a secret Cellar below their large estate - possible only because they had you locked away to attract them money,.

After finding out about the cruel fate of your kin, you shifted into your dragon form attempting to not give the Malfoy any sense of result by responding to them or even just paying attention to them. You rolled into yourself, closed your eyes and stopped things but eat, drink and sleep. No matter how often the ever-evolving generations of Malfoys tried to get you to interact with them, you just stayed silent. Honestly, you were surprised that after decades of silence, they still tried to talk to you - wasn't your presence in their cellar enough? You were still attracting fortune for them, what more did they want? Over the years they tried to get you out of your shell by decorating your cellar with numerous pillows and blankets and things that dragons loved in their hord. Your Chamber probably had more money, jewels and riches in it than their bank account. And yet, as much as you secretly appreciated your new horde, you stayed silent.

At least until a new Malfoy was born and old enough to come down to you on his own. Lucius was just a child when he saw you for the first time lying curled into yourself in your pile of riches and pillows and blankets, but even he could see the sadness in your form. And so he tried to talk to you, but like his parents and grandparents had told him, the dragon in their cellar did not talk. But he didn't stop, he told you about how he thought the family had enough money already, about how he thought they should let you free and how you'd be able to breathe fresh air again once he became the patriarch of the family. Maybe it was the earnestness in his voice or the fact that he reminded you of yourself when you were a hatchling, still trusting in the world around you, but you caved and you shifted for the first time in what must have been over 100 years.

It was safe to say Lucius was ecstatic and the two of you soon became close. You talked to him and him only, and he enjoyed it immensely. He tried to spend as much time as possible down with you and was so close to you that you actually let him nap with you in your horde (he always got to lie on the parts with lots of pillows and blankets, because you knew humans were a lot more sensitive than you). And as he grew older you tried to remind him of his promise and at first he agreed, but the older he grew the more unsure he seemed. Still, he agreed - probably knowing that you'd stop your friendship with him once you realized that he didn't intend to keep his promise anymore.

It was only once he came down, dressed all in black, now an adult with his own child, telling you that his father Abraxas had passed because of a case of Dragon Pox - a cruel wink of fate as you couldn't help but think - that you excitedly ran towards the bars of your cage, believing that you'd finally be let out of this horrible prison. Only that Lucius didn't open the door. 'Why?' you asked him, silver streaks of tears streaming down your cheeks, 'Don't you have enough Fortune? Is the money really worth it?'.

"It was never about the money, at least not for me if it was just that I would let you go in a heartbeat, but I know that the second I let you out you'll be gone. You'll leave me behind, here without you, and I don't think I can do that Y/N. I need to know that you're here, safe, where I always know you're well cared for. I hope one day you'll be able to forgive me - even if I'm not there to experience it."

That was the day you realized that Lucius and Narcissa - and after his son Draco as well - would never let you go. They did try to make your living 'situation' more comfortable, changing out the bars to your cave with an actual door after putting enough spells on you to keep you from ever leaving the premises of their mansion, keeping you from kind of violence against them and keeping alerting them should you ever be in any kind of distress or danger. Soon they had integrated you into their everyday life, treating you like a child to be protected and not like you've had lived longer than they could ever imagine. Even Draco - who grew up with you as a constant in his life - developed the same sense of protectiveness that his parents had, as if he wasn't a literal child, and when it was time for him to leave for Hogwarts he insisted you writing him at least once a week, because otherwise he was sure he'd go insane with worry (at least that was what he said).

And so, while for a few decades, you had actually thought freedom was close, you soon realized that you had just switched one prison against a slightly more glamorous one - and it seemed that as long as there were Malfoys, you'd never be able to escape it.

A/N: This is based on another great idea by @sol565 so I wanna give them a big thanks and a big shoutout ❤️❤️❤️

[herebewonder]

thorn in my side

I have a very good memory when it comes to mistakes I've made (Background photo by me) Writetober Day 12: Today's prompts were "a good scare" and "thorn".

[overlyegoistic]

Writetober 03: Éterický

"Jsi éterická jako…" "Jako olej!" "Ty sou esenciální ne?" "To máš fuk, protože na takovej zahajovák stejně žádnou neulovíš." "A to mi říkáš po hodině a půl útrpný umělecký agónie?" "Co na to říct? Přemohla mě morbidní zvědavost." "Asi vezmu tu propisku a budu morbidně zvědavej na anatomii tvýho oka."

[dannymultipersonaje]

¡Cybertober! Ink/Write-tober | Español/English

Estaba buscando un Inktober para escribir este año y vi que no habia de Transformers asi que decidi hacer el mio.

(in english lower)

1.- Lord

2.- Prime

3.- Conjunx Endora

4.- Animated

5.- Cyberverse

6.- Humanos

7.- Swap AU

8.- Shattered Glass (este esta de numero repetido pero es el 8)

9.- Humanformers Au

10.- DJD

11.- Comics

12.- Crossovers

13.- Amica Endura

14,- Post Guerra

15.- Autobot

16.- Decepticon

17.- Pre guerra

18.- Policias y mafiosos

19.- Autonomos

20.- Mentirosos

21.- Allspark

22.- Cambio

23.- Aceptacion

24.- Celos

25.- Orion Pax

26.- Breakdown

27.- Chispazos (Bebes)

28.- Rugido de motor

29.- Animales

30.- Traidor

31.- Politica o Discusión

-

I was looking for an Inktober to write this year and I saw that there was no Transformers so I decided to make my own.

I don't speak English but I tried to translate the most faithful to the intention of the word of the day into English, to see if more people were interested

1.- Lord

2.- Prime

3.- Conjunx Endora

4.- Animated

5.- Cyberverse

6.- Humanos

7.- Swap AU

8.- Shattered Glass (this is a repeated number but it is 8)

9.- Humanformers Au

10.- DJD

11.- Comics

12.- Crossovers

13.- Amica Endura

14,- Post war

15.- Autobot

16.- Decepticon

17.- Pre war

18.- Police and mobs

19.- Autonomous

20.- Liars

21.- Allspark

22.- Change

23.- Acceptation

24.- jealousy

25.- Orion Pax

26.- Breakdown

27.- Sparklings

28.- Engine Roar

29.- Animals

30.- Traitor

31.- Politics or Discussion

[lectordemaldiciones]

Oct 19 – Espuela de caballero.

Giró la perilla tratando de hacer el menor ruido posible, lo menos que quería era despertar a nadie. Se coló en la habitación sintiendo el corazón latiéndole en el cuello, ella era un ladrón en una casa que debería sentirse como suya, pero no lo era. Una brisa fresca de playa entró de paso desde una ventana abierta, y ella, como fiel creyente que el sereno y la brisa fría podía atraer malos sueños, no pudo evitar acercarse y cerrarla.

Trac, la madera crujió.

Ella esperaba ser descubierta, pero no en tan poco tiempo.

Una sombra negra comenzó a tragarse el suelo, se escurrió por entre grietas y las paredes, besó el techo y comenzó a espesarse en el corazón de la habitación. Se acercaba, rápidamente, ella no tenía hacia donde correr. La sombra la tomó de los brazos y ella estuvo ciega, todo era negro.

Había cosas imposibles de combatir sin importar lo poderosa que fueras: las zonas sin vida, las piedras que son tu debilidad o la casa de un brujo que no te ha dado permiso de entrar en ella.

Rachel Roth no podría morir ese día, pero recordaría perfectamente la sensación de una sombra tratando de arrancarle la piel. Unas manos de oscuridad se cerraron en su garganta y unos aguijones invisibles perforaron su mente. Ella estaría rota en dos segundos si fuera otra persona, nadie sobreviviría ciego, sordo y sin poder respirar por mucho tiempo.

Un sollozó destapó sus oídos.

Era un llanto débil y poderoso que retumbó, retumbó y retumbó.

Ella cayó al suelo.

Cuando sus ojos se abrieron, la mirada de odio que recibió por parte de su hijo, le helaría la sangre. Ella casi quería revivir el momento en el que ella estaba atrapada para no tener que enfrentarlo. Casi.

— Voy a preguntarlo una vez nada más, Rachel. — él no grita, pero eso es aun más preocupante. La ve desde arriba y ella puede jurar que él la odia, que quiere que jamás vuelvan a coincidir. — ¿Qué hacías en el cuarto de mi hija? Juro por dios que, si escucho cualquier mierda acerca de querer reunir a la familia, te regresaré en pedazos. No vas a reclutar un nuevo miembro. Ella nunca lo será.

Jesse es un chico alto, delgado y bello, si lo quieres definir así. Raven muchas veces quiso definirlo solo así, como alguien alto, delgado y bello; pero Jesse siempre fue más. Jesse siempre era más. Ante ella, un hombre duro y letal la veía como una pieza prescindible. Ella podía ser alguien que entrara a medida en un ataúd si eso significaba la seguridad de su pequeña familia. Raven lo respetaba por eso. Lo respetaba por más.

Ella nunca podría ser su madre, se había perdido tantos momentos como para llegar a serlo, no, aquel titulo solo lo podría ocupar una sola persona y el puesto ya no se encontraba vacante. Raven no supo de su existencia o su parecido con su único amor hasta que ya fue demasiado tarde, hasta que la vida ya había tratado a aquel bello muchacho como le había dado la gana.

No era justo, ellos no tuvieron ningún chance.

— Ava siempre habla de ti. — Esa no era la respuesta que él esperaba, si algo le dice su ceño fruncido, tampoco es la que ella misma esperaba, si es sincera. – Ava habla por horas y horas de cómo le alegra que pudieras crear una nueva vida con tu esposo, Ava habla de ti y tu serpiente, Beto, también de tus plantas y tus tazas de té.

— Detente.

— Tu hermana habla mucho de ti, jamás me pareció raro y jamás la hice callar. Me gustaba escuchar de ti, aun si me dolía que jamás pudiera acercarme lo suficiente para conocerte como ella lo hace. – Ella suspira, sonriéndole tristemente. – Ava habla mucho de ti, pero Dione es bastante egoísta contigo, odia compartirte conmigo y a veces pienso, que es porque en parte me culpa por no haberte protegido.

Ella levanta la mano, viendo la necesidad del muchacho de refutarle.

« La entiendo, en serio. Ella es protectora, siempre lo ha sido, desde pequeña estuvo dispuesta a recibir cualquier cantidad de morados con tal de que Ava no sufriera.

« Como decía, Dione nunca me habla de ti, pero hace días… llegó llorando, pensé que le sucedió algo, algo grave, pero no era ni por asomo eso.

« Me abrazó y dijo tu nombre, también el de tu bebé, me contó que vino a visitarlos al saber que por fin había llegado, me dijo que aplicó unas mil protecciones más y que realmente esperaba visitarte muy pronto. Dijo que jamás te vio más feliz, que nada podía ser mejor que el futuro que estamos viviendo.

Ellos quedaron en silencio, lejanamente, ella sabe que el esposo de su hijo se encuentra en la otra habitación, caminando de un lado a otro, esperando que nada malo pase.

« Solo quería conocerla, no fue mi mejor momento, pero sé que no soy una persona de tu agrado. No podía pedírtelo, no me debes eso. – Siente que la voz se le quiebra, pero ella no va a tratar de arreglarlo. – No tienes que decirme que sí, le traía un ramo de flores, espuelas de caballo me han dicho que se llaman, muy bonitas. Al parecer son propias de los nacidos en julio, así que son de su propiedad.

Silencio, eso es todo lo que ellos son, es todo lo que les queda.

Pasan segundos o minutos, horas o días.

Jesse suspira y le tiende la mano. — No vuelvas a entrar a mi casa de esa forma, te maldeciré de por vida. – Los ojos de Jesse brillaron, aquello no era una amenaza; sin embargo, algo en su voz era diferente, menos afilado — Zyonn probablemente agregué otro centenar de maldiciones, solo dios sabe lo loco que está por esa mocosa.

— ¡Hey!, compórtate, te estamos escuchando.

Su hijo rodó los ojos, pero ella lo sentía, él por fin era feliz.

— Puedes venir a verla, simplemente no la despiertes, no hay quien la pare.

Unas puertas dobles se abrieron en aquel momento. Un ojeroso Zyonn le saludó con una sonrisa, pero los ojos de aquella mujer ya anciana, aun si los años no podían tocarle, estaban fijos en las mantas que el muchacho abrazaba contra su pecho.