ARPG MEMORY: Make A Wish


Authors
Jesse
Published
3 years, 2 months ago
Updated
3 years, 2 months ago
Stats
2 1550 1

Chapter 1
Published 3 years, 2 months ago
780

Baby adopts the tiny wishing weed he cared for back on Green Acres. Later, he has to let little Tiny go join the annual wishing weed migration, where he has lots of emotions.

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PART I


It had been a few weeks since Baby had cared for the little wishing weed for Dahlia at Green Acres farm, and quite frankly he’d almost forgotten about the whole ordeal entirely. At least, he’d forgotten about it until Dahlia showed right back up on his doorstep like she had before, only this time she has a tiny wishing weed in her hands, which she immediately proffers to him practically the minute he gets the door open.

“What’s this?” he asks, staring at it for a good moment, despite it being all but thrusted into his face right off the bat.

“It’s the wishing weed you took care of at my farm,” Dahlia answers, “After it got better, all it’s been doing is staring at the spot you were sitting in, laying down in it, and crying.”

Baby blinks, staring into the tiny little eyes of the wishing weed that’s staring up at him with such fondness in its teeny little eyes that you’d think Baby hung the very stars in the night sky just for them and them alone.

“I figured that it was missing you,” Dahlia continues on, extending her arms just a little further to encourage Baby to take the wishing weed from her, “It’s no good having it sittin’ up there being sad all the time, and I know that you have a thing for adopting pets and all.”

“I do, but.. it’s so.. tiny..” Baby whispers, carefully taking the little wishing weed from Dahlia’s hands, cradling it gently. Its fluff is so warm and soft and Baby swears he’s never felt anything half as good before.

“Awwh, you’ll do good, though,” Dahlia chides playfully, waving her hand at him, “I’ve seen the way you care for some of the most pesky and rowdy pets in all of Midveil; I think you’ll do just fine with one little wishing weed that doesn’t cause really any trouble.”

Baby almost doesn’t even reply at first, just completely and utterly transfixed by the littlest puff of softness in his hands that he temporarily forgets his manners. He hastily apologizes to Dahlia, and makes her a promise that he’ll “take very good care of this tiny little fellow”, and she seems to believe him. That, or she’s just super busy and needs to get back to the farm, because off she goes right after, waving goodbye to him as she heads down the dirt path. Baby waves after her for a minute or two, and then carefully closes the door, keeping the wishing weed gently tucked in the crook of his elbow like he did before back on Green Acres.

“You’re such a tiny little thing,” Baby reiterates to it after walking into the kitchen, “I think I’ll just call you Tiny, how’s that?”

Almost as if pleased by the name that Baby has bestowed upon it, Tiny blinks a few times, accepting the name like the first gift it’s ever been given, and it gently nuzzles its soft little face against Baby’s palms.

He almost melts directly into the floor from the cuteness overload.

“Y’know,” he says, fetching a teacup down from the cabinet, “I’ve spent so long taking care of pets that like to act out and get into trouble that I’m almost not sure how to care for a gentle little cutie like you.” He sets both the teacup and Tiny on the counter, giving the fuzzy little fluff ball a gentle brush with his finger on the top of its head. “I try to give everyone a good home, because rowdy pets aren’t usually wanted by many, but sometimes it gets stressful. I just want to give them a home they can grow and thrive in.. and I hope I can give you that, too-- as long as you can tolerate some noise and a little chaos, heh.”

Tiny nuzzles the empty teacup as Baby guides it over to it, and then eagerly hops up to nestle itself inside the cup, feeling cozy, warm, and safe. The little wishing weed closes its eyes, and Baby feels better. The arborling picks up the teacup, holding it carefully in one hand as he walks into the living room, and tries to not look at the remainders of chaos left there from this morning by his little platoon of rapscallions. He can clean it up later. Instead, he gently pets the top of Tiny’s head, enjoying the warm softness. “Welcome home, Tiny,” he says quietly, “I’m glad you’re here.”