#and then i spread it to my friends but anyways

[keferon]

Writing this before I go to bed lolll anyways ~~

The ocean was much darker, much colder than Jazz had remembered. It spread out in all directions, no concrete walls to keep him trapped, no ceiling above but blue-black sky. Stars glittered, the moon’s light rippling across the surface of the water. He was free.

A few meters away, Prowl floated, gazing at the mer who’d been deprived of the sea for years. He hurt for Jazz in a way he couldn’t describe. The weight of it crushed him, knowing the mer had been kept in captivity since he was a calf and remembered next to nothing of his life before. Staring at Jazz now, Prowl could see wonder in his expression. Could see the realization dawning on Jazz that he was out, he wasn’t in captivity anymore. How could anyone do this to someone? Hold them hostage for years for entertainment? His blood boiled thinking about Jazz floating at the surface of his – their – enclosure, eyes empty and staring at nothing, bored out of his mind. He swam to Jazz’s side, concern apparent on his face.

“Are you okay?” Not the best question perhaps, but Prowl had to know what Jazz was thinking.

“I missed the stars,” the mer responded, blue eyes still fixated on the sky. “There are so many out here, I’d forgotten…” Jazz stopped then, lowering his gaze to level with Prowl’s. “I’ve forgotten everything.”

Prowl lurched at that, unsure at first how to respond. “You haven’t forgotten everything,” he told Jazz, “You have been trapped in a concrete box for years. That alone has done so much damage to your psyche.”

Jazz’s eyes lowered to the waves before he muttered, “Yeah, I’m damaged alright. Flopped fins and unable to remember my own mother.” With that, he dove beneath the waves, leaving Prowl concerned he’d scared his friend away. He dove down after Jazz.

“I am sorry, Jazz, I shouldn’t have phrased it that way,” Prowl whirled to face Jazz head-on. “You are not damaged. The way you’ve been treated is horrible, but you are not the problem.”

Jazz huffed and crossed his arms, looking away from Prowl’s unflinching gaze. “I can’t even remember their songs,” he whispered into the dark. “I can’t remember. I know my pod sang, I know my mother sang, but for the life of me I can’t remember them.”

He shut his eyes, biting back tears. He then felt a gentle pull on his wrists. Prowl pulled his arms away from his chest, taking Jazz’s hands in his. A high-pitched, warbling melody emerged between them. Prowl’s voice dipped lower, holding longer notes. He clicked occasionally, seeing through to what felt like Jazz’s very soul. The melody reawakened the memories buried deep in Jazz’s mind. He pulled at the strings, beckoning them to return to him, to remind him what the song meant. Note after note Prowl sang, and the two mers drifted together, resting their foreheads against one another. The meaning slowly came back to Jazz.

I’m here.

I will not leave you behind.

I love you.

Prowl’s voice echoed in the water around them, the melody burrowing into Jazz’s being, down to his very marrow. He felt as though his soul was being cleaned of all the dust that had gathered in the corners through years of neglect. The meaning was so clear then, Jazz buried his head into Prowl’s shoulder. The memories, his memories, of his pod and his mother and the love she had for him returned, and he ached. The need to sing erupted within him.

With a trembling heart, Jazz offered his own voice. His song was different, reminiscent of the supposed ‘calming melodies’ the aquarium played while humans were visiting. His clicks were lower in frequency and uneven in rhythm, but they fit in with Prowl’s long, higher notes. Their combined voices created a melody all their own, one that could grow and change as they did.

Prowl and Jazz held each other that way for a long time, singing softly to themselves in the dark. The ocean stopped to listen, to warm the water around the mers and keep them safe. These two, at least, had made it.

Hoping this wasn’t too inaccurate lore-wise, I haven't been able to read everything about this au, all I know is I LOVE IT. This is,,,my first time submitting a fic to someone, so I hope it isn’t terrible ^t^ thank you for reading!!! Love what you do, Keferon!!!

Oh man oh man OH MAN THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL HFCBHDBJUFD PLEASE I WANNA INJECT YOUR WRITING STRAIGHT INTO MY VEINS

[kathaelipwse]

Dancing in the Moonlight | H.Hyunjin

Genre: Best Friends to Lovers

Synopsis: A late-night walk through the quiet city turns into something more when Hyunjin, ever the romantic, asks you to dance under the streetlights. As music drifts from a nearby café, confessions slip through the cracks of a long-time friendship—changing everything in the soft glow of the moonlight.

Warnings: Fluff and more FLUFF!

Word Count: 2.3K

Authors Note: Hyunjin as the bsf to lover trope- ahh I dunno this has my heart lmao-

The city breathed differently at night. It exhaled the day's anxieties, replacing them with a hushed, almost reverent calm. The harsh lines of buildings softened, streetlights cast a warm, forgiving glow, and the air carried the faintest scent of jasmine from hidden gardens. You walked beside Hyunjin, the silence between you a comfortable, familiar language.

Your hands, tucked deep into the oversized sleeves of your favorite hoodie, occasionally brushed against his. It was a fleeting, almost accidental touch, but it sent a shiver down your spine each time. Hyunjin, his hair tousled by the evening breeze, seemed lost in his own thoughts, his hands buried in his pockets.

“I can’t believe we’ve been walking for hours,” you mused, tilting your head up to look at him. The streetlights painted his profile in a soft, golden light, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the gentle curve of his lips.

Hyunjin grinned, glancing down at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Regretting it?”

“No,” you answered too quickly, then bit your lip, a blush warming your cheeks. “I like nights like this.”

He hummed in agreement, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. “Me too.”

That was the thing about Hyunjin. Being with him was effortless. There were no awkward pauses, no forced laughter. Just the comforting silence of shared history, the unspoken understanding that came from years of friendship. Best friends, since childhood. That's what you were.

Or, at least, that’s what you had always told yourself.

You remembered the day you met. You were both awkward, lanky kids, new to the neighborhood, and he had offered you a half-eaten bag of chips, a gesture of unexpected kindness that had blossomed into an unbreakable bond. You had shared secrets whispered under starry skies, dreams sketched on crumpled notebooks, and the bittersweet ache of first heartbreaks.

But somewhere along the way, the lines had blurred. The laughter felt a little lighter, the touches lingered a little longer, and the late-night talks turned into confessions whispered in the dark.

“Wait,” Hyunjin suddenly stopped walking, and you nearly stumbled, your thoughts interrupted.

“What?” you asked, blinking at him in confusion.

He held up a finger, listening intently. “Do you hear that?”

Frowning, you focused. The faint melody of a song drifted from a cafe a few meters away. It was a slow, romantic tune, a melancholic piano melody overlaid with a soft, breathy vocal. You gave him a questioning look. “Yeah…?”

A mischievous grin spread across his lips, transforming his features. “Dance with me.”

Your brain short-circuited. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, already reaching for your hand, his fingers warm and strong against yours.

“In the middle of the street?!” you exclaimed, glancing around the empty street.

“Why not?” He chuckled, his fingers lacing with yours, effortlessly pulling you closer. “No one’s here but us.”

Your heart stuttered, a fluttery, anxious thing trapped in your chest. But you let him guide you anyway. Because that’s what you always did—let yourself be swept away by Hyunjin’s spontaneity, his infectious energy, his unwavering confidence.

He placed one hand on your waist, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you, and suddenly, you were swaying, feet moving in sync to the distant music. The world around you blurred, the city lights fading into a hazy backdrop. There was only him—the warmth of his palm against your skin, the soft pull of his touch, the way his eyes shone under the streetlights, reflecting the moonlight.

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, trying to sound exasperated, but your voice betrayed you, tinged with affection.

Hyunjin smirked, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “But you love me anyway.”

Your breath hitched. He said it so easily, so playfully, like it meant nothing. Like it wasn’t the exact thing that had been haunting your thoughts for months.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes to hide the way your pulse quickened. “Debatable.”

“Liar.” He twirled you suddenly, catching you off guard, and a laugh bubbled from your lips before you could stop it.

You hated how effortlessly he could do this—make your heart race, make you forget where the line between friendship and something more even existed. You weren’t sure when it started, this feeling. Maybe it had always been there, a seed planted in the fertile ground of your friendship, nurtured by shared laughter and whispered secrets. Or maybe it was a more recent bloom, a sudden realization that the boy you had known for so long had become a man who made your heart ache with longing.

You remembered a time in high school, during a particularly chaotic party, when you had found yourself alone with Hyunjin on the rooftop. The city lights had spread out beneath you like a glittering carpet, and the air had been thick with unspoken words. He had looked at you then, his eyes filled with a tenderness that had made your breath catch in your throat. But then, he had laughed, a nervous, self-deprecating laugh, and the moment had passed, leaving you with a lingering sense of what could have been.

And now, with his hand in yours, with the city quiet around you, with your heart screaming at you to say something, to do something—it became impossible to ignore.

Then, mid-spin, he whispered it, his voice barely audible above the music.

"I think I’m in love with you."

You froze, your feet rooted to the spot.

The words hung in the air, fragile and weightless, like a snowflake about to melt on your tongue. The music seemed to fade away, the city lights dimming, leaving you in a bubble of stunned silence.

Your feet stopped moving, but Hyunjin didn’t let go. His grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable, a mix of vulnerability and raw honesty. His eyes, usually filled with playful mischief, burned with something raw, something real.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your brain refused to process the moment, refused to believe it was real. Hyunjin was your best friend. He wasn’t supposed to say things like that. He wasn’t supposed to make your heart feel like it was about to burst.

“Y-you…” You swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. “You mean that?”

A soft chuckle left his lips, but there was no humor in it. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I just didn’t know how to say it until now.”

Your chest ached, emotions crashing into you all at once. Part of you wanted to scream, You’re an idiot. I’ve been in love with you too. But another part of you—the scared part—wondered what would happen next. If things would change. If you’d lose him.

Hyunjin, always so perceptive, must’ve seen the hesitation in your eyes, because he exhaled softly and stepped closer, his free hand reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, reassuring.

“I don’t need an answer right now,” he said gently. “I just… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.”

Your breath wavered. “Hyunjin…”

“Just…” His forehead rested against yours, his voice barely a whisper. “Tell me if there’s even the slightest chance you feel the same.”

Your heart clenched, a painful, beautiful ache. “You idiot,” you whispered back, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Of course I do.”

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes, his expression a mix of hope and disbelief. “Yeah?”

A breathless laugh escaped you. “Yeah.”

And then he was smiling—grinning, actually—like you had just given him the entire universe. Before you could overthink it, before your fear could take over, you lifted yourself onto your toes and pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to his cheek.

Hyunjin blinked, startled. “Did you just—?”

“Yes,” you cut in, flustered, your cheeks burning. “Shut up.”

He laughed, the sound echoing through the empty street, a joyful, unrestrained sound that made your heart soar. And without warning, he pulled you into the tightest hug, lifting you off the ground just slightly. You yelped, clinging onto him as he spun you around, the both of you laughing like kids.

When he finally set you down, his hands still rested on your waist, his forehead pressed against yours once more. His smile softened, his voice dropping to something impossibly tender. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

You bit your lip, feeling warmth spread through your entire body, a warmth that had nothing to do with the night air. “Then do it.”

Hyunjin didn’t hesitate. He tilted his head slightly, closing the small gap between you, and then—his lips brushed against yours, soft and hesitant at first, like he was savoring the moment, testing the waters. But when you melted into him, when your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his hoodie, he deepened the kiss, pouring every unspoken word, every hidden feeling into it.

The kiss was a revelation. It was a culmination of years of friendship, a release of pent-up emotions, a declaration of love whispered in the language of touch. It was tender, passionate, and utterly breathtaking. You felt a wave of dizziness wash over you, a sense of falling, not into an abyss, but into something safe, something real.

The city around you faded away, the distant music becoming a soft, romantic soundtrack to your shared moment. All that remained was the two of you, standing under the warm glow of the streetlights, the world holding its breath.

When he finally pulled away, his lips just barely ghosting over yours, he grinned, a wide, radiant smile that lit up his entire face. “You’re mine now.”

You chuckled, nudging his chest playfully. “I think I’ve always been yours.”

Hyunjin beamed, pulling you in again, holding you close, his arms wrapped tightly around you. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, a comforting, familiar sound that now held a new, deeper meaning.

As you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you realized something: you had spent so long wondering if loving your best friend was worth the risk, if it was worth jeopardizing the precious bond you shared.

Now, you knew.

It always was.

The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the unspoken weight of newfound love. You felt a sense of peace, a quiet joy that settled deep within your bones.

"We should tell the others," Hyunjin murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

"The others?" you asked, pulling back slightly. "You mean our friends?"

He nodded, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah. They've been waiting for this for years, you know. They'll probably throw a party."

You laughed, picturing your friends' reactions. They had always teased you and Hyunjin, their playful jabs about your "obvious" feelings a constant source of amusement and embarrassment.

"They'll never let us live this down," you said, shaking your head.

"Who cares?" Hyunjin shrugged, his smile widening. "As long as we're happy."

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, and began walking again, this time with a newfound lightness in his step. You walked beside him, your heart overflowing with happiness, the city lights reflecting in your eyes like tiny stars.

You passed the cafe again, the music still drifting through the night air, a soft, romantic melody that now seemed to perfectly encapsulate your feelings. You paused, looking up at Hyunjin.

"That song," you said, pointing towards the cafe. "It's perfect."

He listened for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "It is. It's like it was written for us."

You smiled, a warm, genuine smile that reached your eyes. "Maybe it was."

He squeezed your hand, his touch sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. "Maybe it was."

You continued walking, hand in hand, the city lights guiding your way. You talked about everything and nothing, sharing stories and dreams, the comfortable silence between you now filled with a new, unspoken understanding.

As you approached your apartment building, Hyunjin stopped, turning to face you. The streetlights cast long shadows, creating a romantic, intimate atmosphere.

"I don't want this night to end," he said, his voice soft.

"Me neither," you admitted, your heart pounding in your chest.

He hesitated for a moment, then reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was warm, reassuring.

"Can I… can I kiss you again?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, soft and tender. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a silent promise of more to come.

When he finally pulled away, his eyes were filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

"Goodnight," he whispered, his voice husky.

"Goodnight," you replied, your voice barely audible.

He lingered for a moment, his gaze lingering on yours, then turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the night.

You watched him go, your heart filled with a mixture of happiness and longing. You couldn't wait to see him again, to spend another night under the moonlight, dancing to the rhythm of your newfound love.

You entered your apartment, a smile still playing on your lips. You changed into your pajamas, your mind replaying the events of the night, each moment etched into your memory.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts swirling with dreams of the future. You imagined a future filled with laughter and love, a future where you and Hyunjin were inseparable, a future where your love story continued to unfold under the soft glow of the moonlight.

As you drifted off to sleep, you couldn't help but smile. You had found love in the most unexpected place, in the arms of your best friend, under the dancing moonlight. And you knew, with a certainty that warmed your soul, that this was just the beginning.

[bumblesimagines]

A Burning Hill

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Years after losing his family, former revolutionary gets the surprise of his life.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Arcane warnings, angst and death, lots of grieving, implied depression, silco when i catch you silco, child death (mylo, clogger)

divider by the-voice-beckons-below 

~~~

(Y/N) felt like a ghost on most days. He floated through the filthy streets of Zaun, ignorant to the buzzing and life around him whilst he walked from street to street until he reached his desolate home by the murky, polluted river. He preferred it, no matter how isolated from the rest of the city. It was home. Old, dull, and free from the tormenting memories the rest of the city held. Life passed him by steadily enough to keep everything at bay, anyway. 

The once-vibrant neon signs around the city buildings looked dull when he glanced at the blinking lights. Everything looked dull, washed of its original color, and rendered lifeless in his eyes. There was nothing pretty about Zaun anymore, nothing worth truly fighting for.

It didn't matter how many times Ekko visited him, all the speeches and pep talks he stubbornly gave while (Y/N) watched him only ever seeing the little boy he'd been and not the leader he'd grown into. He'd been like him once.. a long, long time ago.

"(Y/N)!" A gravelly voice called out from one of the stands lined along the rain-slicked cobble street. Mod raised a hand in greeting and then lifted a wooden bowl, the contents inside swishing and nearly dripping off the sides. He wiggled it enticingly and arched one bushy brow while a coaxing grin spread across his face. 

Somewhat reluctantly, (Y/N) approached the stand and pushed the hood of his old cloak back as he took a seat on one of the stools. Mod set the bowl before him and stuck a spoon in the fish soup. His reflection blinked slowly back at him, the bags under his eyes noticeable even in the cerulean broth. "Thanks." He muttered, his voice scratchy.

"Anythin' for you, boss." Mod chuckled heartily, thick fingers scratching at his patchy brown beard before he leaned his broad frame against the counter. There was a twinkle in his eyes, bright and mischievous. "Say, boss-"

"I'm not your boss." (Y/N) shoved a spoonful of broth with a chunk of fish into his mouth. 

Mod nodded solemnly. "'Course, 'course... I was talkin' to my pal the other day. You remember Divo, right? Well, he and his old lady finally called it quits, and I hear he's got his eye on you-" 

(Y/N)'s eyes darted up to meet Mod's hazel ones, his grip on the spoon tightening faintly. Not a single muscle in his face moved, yet Mod clamped his mouth shut instantly and turned his back to him to continue tending the stove with a nervous chuckle. (Y/N) chewed slowly on the fish, letting the flavor dance on his tongue and then swallowing.

He lifted the bowl and slurped as much of the broth as he could into his mouth before letting the bowl fall onto the counter with a clatter and wiping the leftover droplets from his mouth. He slapped a few coins on the table and slid off the stool to continue his way through the crowd, turning a deaf ear to Mod's calls for him.

Zaun was as alive as always. Kids were running about, most of them either fleeing from someone or rushing to catch up with their friends. His heart always clenched when he looked at them, when there was a straggler who couldn't keep up with the older kids.

His eyes always naturally gravitated toward them to watch, despite the stabbing feeling that pierced his gut each time. There was a reason he kept himself unfocused from the goings of the city; everything was a goddamn reminder. 

Ducking into an alleyway and dodging the rat that skittered across his path, he began making his way down the usual route to his place. He withheld a sigh when he stepped in a puddle and briefly stopped to shake the droplets from his drenched boot.

He only took a couple more steps before his ears picked up the splash of the puddle, and his mind jerked awake with newfound alertness. He bit his cheek, cursing whatever gods were watching over Zaun. The last thing he wanted was dealing with some stupid thief or wannabe thug trying to earn street cred. 

Once their footsteps grew closer, he swiftly spun around and grabbed the front of their shift, a yelp escaping the person when he slammed them into the nearest wall. His grip on their collar tightened until the breath was roughly sucked free from his lungs, every muscle in his body tensing.

He stared at the girl in his grasp, taking in the stunned look in her familiar light gray eyes and the short spiky magenta hair he knew so well. Her face was straight from his memories, only with sharper features, older features. His forehead creased in confusion, and he released her to take a startled step away from her. 

"Violet?" He exhaled a name he hadn't spoken in years, his chest stuttering with a shaky inhale.

His eyes flickered all over her face, lingering on the scars and the VI tattoo on her right cheek. No, Violet... His Violet was dead​​​​​​, just like Mylo and Clogger.. like Vander. He sucked another breath, his heart picking up into a pace that made it difficult to breathe. 

Violet stared back at him, her features softening until she looked like the fourteen-year-old girl that haunted his dreams, the little girl he lost along with his boys and husband. Her face contorted rapidly, scrunching up with her quivering lips as her eyes flooded with tears.

She gasped for air, one tear managing to escape before she fell into his arms with a sob, an act she'd done a million times before. His arms instinctively wrapped around her and pulled her tight to his chest, his own eyes beginning to sting with tears.

"Dad," She wept into his shoulder, her hands desperately clawing at his back until they bunched up his cloak into her fists. His hold tightened around her until he was cradling her as close as possible. He couldn't bear to consider if it was just another dream where she'd be violently ripped away from him all over again. "I'm so sorry."

"What the fuck."

His heart was thrumming like hell in his ears, his eyes wildly flickering over the burning warehouse by the river that looked like it'd been destroyed by some sort of explosion. He searched for anything, any noise or sign that someone, anyone, was alive and in need of help.

He searched for Vander, half-expecting him to stumble out of the ruins, but as he grew closer, with Ekko's hand tightly clutched in his, he spotted something that made his heart drop to his feet.

"No.." He exhaled and dropped Ekko's hand to rush forward, past the debris and flames, toward the corpse lying on the ground. 

His knees groaned when he collapsed onto them, but the pain barely registered in his frantic mind. Lying there, battered and lifeless, was Vander's body. It was mutated, parts of him enlarged unnaturally with prominent black veins and sickening bruises scattered across his body.

His grey eyes, the ones that always lit up at the sight of him, were pale and lifeless, blankly staring up at the night sky above them. His trembling hands took his cheeks, a sob tearing from his throat when Vander's head lolled to the side. 

"Van, c'mon, don't- don't do this, please." He couldn't breathe. Teardrops dripped and rolled off Vander's cheek, mixing with the splatters of blood and grime. His hands moved to his shoulders, and he shook him lightly, willing him to come back by some miracle. "Vander, hey, baby... c'mon. Come back to me, please. You- You can't leave me. You made an oath, Vander. You made an- an oath. You made a fucking oath."

His fingers dug into Vander's skin, once warm but now growing cold with the night air. (Y/N) held his cheeks in his palms, praying to whatever deity came to mind to bring his husband back to him, but Vander's lifeless eyes remained half-lidded and his chest remained still.

(Y/N) grinded his teeth together, his vision blurring until the hot tears tumbled down his cheeks, and he collapsed over Vander's corpse, half-sobbing half-screaming until his voice grew hoarse. 

"Please, please, don't do this to me..." He whimpered, helplessly reaching for Vander's limp arm and raising it to press his large, collaoused palm over his cheek.

The cool metal of his wedding band pressed into (Y/N)'s skin, burning like a hot iron. Their wedding day flashed clear before his eyes: the party at the Last Drop, the stupidly sugary sweet vows Vander spoke into the microphone that had him unable to make eye contact, the dancing and festivities that kept the bar alive with a happiness they hadn't experienced in ages, little Violet and baby Powder giggling along the whole night with their mother and father.

He looked down at him through blurry, unfocused vision, the heaves and sobs wrecking through his body until it grew sore. This wasn't how they were supposed to part. It wasn't. They were supposed to grow old and frail and gray.

"(Y/N).." Ekko's soft, trembling voice reached his ears. "I... I found this."

Sniffling, (Y/N) lifted his head and turned toward the little boy, a strangled noise emitting from his throat at the sight of Clogger's goggles in his hands, shattered and bloodied. He reached a shaking hand out to gingerly grab them, his thumb rubbing over the glass until his skin caught on the broken glass.

Clogger, Mylo... his boys. His sweet, troublemaking boys. He surveyed the mess around them in search of his missing daughters, but there was no sign of them. His eyes dropped back to his husband.

He'd never be able to listen to one of Mylo's rambly vents again or tend to his injuries while he huffed and puffed. He'd never be able to fix up Clogger's goggles when they broke for the tenth time or share an eye roll over someone's childish antics again. He'd never get to curl up in Vander's arms at night and listen to his rumbling laugh while he recounted his day or feel his lips brush over his ear while he muttered corny love confessions that always made him flush and roll his eyes. 

"Who..." His jaw clenched. "Who did this?"

Ekko wiped his runny nose and swallowed, his big, watery eyes narrowing. "Silco."

Silco.

Always. Fucking. Silco.

He stumbled onto his feet in an instant, the bottom of his boots slapping against the stone as he took off down the path leading back into the city. The buildings, markets, and nightlife passed him by in a blur of gray and neon as he ventured further and further toward the inner parts of the Lanes where he knew, he just knew, Silco would be. Other Zaunites leaped out of the way, with those who were too slow being shoved aside until the Last Drop came into view. His home, his sanctuary, and there were already lackeys shuffling in and out of the bar. 

He was heaving by the time he swung the bar doors open, his steps slightly staggered as he entered the familiar bar. Some of their regulars were already arguing with Silco's men; Sevika sat at one of the booths with a pained expression as someone hurriedly tended to her shoulder where her arm was simply gone; those injured from the warehouse soothed themselves with alcohol bought from Vander's hard-earned money.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. 

(Y/N) shoved Clogger's goggles into his pocket, ignoring the pain in his hand from where glass shards embedded themselves into his palm. He took in a staggering breath. "Where... the fuck is Silco?" 

Wide eyes turned in his direction. The regulars frowned sympathetically, and their heckles raised on his behalf, while the lackeys that blindly followed Silco exchanged panicked or hesitant glances. He scanned the bar, but no one uttered a word, leaving the air with a suffocating tension.

One of the younger lackeys glanced up toward the office, the office he used to plan out his ideas, and then shrunk back into his seat when he caught (Y/N) staring daggers at him. Another lackey had the bright idea to step in front of him, his chest puffed out with smug arrogance over their 'victory'. 

His husband was dead. Murdered brutally alongside the orphaned children they took in when everyone else turned their backs on them. The only feeling (Y/N) that knew better than grief was pure, unbridled rage. He'd locked the rage away years ago, worked on it until it was tamed for the sake of his children, who'd grown up seeing too much violence on the streets to see it from their protector. It brewed in his stomach relentlessly now, simmering and growing until it made his body run hot. 

The young man only had a second to react, a second for surprise to flash over his face, before (Y/N) twisted his dark hair in his fist and slammed his head into the nearest table. He dug the heel of his hand into the man's temple, and with his move, the tension broke, and people lunged at each other. (Y/N) released the stranger, watching him slump onto the floor and clutch his no doubt throbbing head, before he walked around him and bounded up the metal stairs leading up to his office.

There were thuds, crashes, glass shattering, and shouting behind him, but he was only focused on the wooden door growing closer. Silco stood inside his office in the bar his husband owned after slaughtering his family. Silco turned toward him when the floorboards creaked underneath his weight, his mismatched eyes widening before (Y/N)'s fist connected with his cheek.

Silco stumbled backward, his hip bumping into the desk covered in the papers he used for designing mechanisms and technology. He grabbed onto the desk, half-way hunched over as blood dripped down from his nose and onto his vest. 

"Felicia wasn't enough for you, was she?" (Y/N) spat out through gritted teeth, drawing Silco's eyes back to his face. They remained widened for a long second and then flickered away to the framed picture hanging on the wall of them back before her death, back before the brotherly bond between Vander and Silco dissolved. "Your ambition took my sister, my brother-in-law, but you couldn't stop there, could you? You just had to take my husband and children, too."

Silco brushed his fingers over the streak of blood coating his upper lip and straightened up, palm brushing back the dark strands that fell over his face from the hit. "I never intended for Felicia and Connol to get hurt." He said grimly, curling his hands around the hem of his vest to adjust it properly over his body. "The children weren't supposed to be there. The boys... Violet. They were... collateral damage."

(Y/N) stared at him, aghast, his fingers curling into fists once more despite the sharp pain in his hands. "Vander and I loved you once." He gritted his teeth, tears tittering on the edge of his vision.

There were faint memories of them in that very office, hunched over the desk while dreaming up what Zaun would look like without Piltover's boot on their necks. Memories of them chatting in a corner of the Last Drop until Silco practically shoved him into Vander's arms so they could dance with Felicia. Silco blinked at him in startlement.

"I thought.. You were the cleverest man in Zaun, that you'd be the one to help us make Zaun better than Piltover. But you're just a filthy, weak little fucking rat." 

(Y/N) barely registered how quickly he closed the distance until his hand fisted the collar of Silco's shirt and shoved him onto the floor. He followed him down, his knees pinning Silco's shoulders down against the floorboards as he tugged his knife free from its holster around his waist. Silco's eyes widened again, his hands clutching and shoving against (Y/N)'s legs. 

"If Felicia saw you-" Silco gasped out. "-what would she say?" 

"She'd hate you for what you did to her daughters, you piece of shit!"

Heavy footsteps quickly grew near, and a bulky arm swooped around his waist to haul him off Silco. "(Y/N), enough-" Sevika hissed in his ear, a strained, pained groan filling his ear as she staggered, weakened from the blow that'd taken her arm.

His legs kicked out toward the desk, and he used it to propel himself back into her, the weight and force forcing her to stumble back until she slammed into the wall. She released him with a cry and clutched at her shoulder with heavy breaths. 

He caught himself before he fell, his hand still clutching the knife like a vice when he turned to face Silco. The thin man scrambled to get to his feet again, but (Y/N) swiftly kicked him back down, his movements growing sluggish from exhaustion. He slumped back onto the floor, one knee pinning Silco's forearm and soaking in the wince. He was tired, too. Bastard. 

"Vander... Vander thought you were redeemable, even after what you did to Felicia and Connol. He wanted to talk, to make amends, and you slaughtered him like a pig, you-" (Y/N) inhaled sharply, frantically blinking away the tears building in his eyes. Silco froze at his words, stiffening fully underneath him and staring up at him with big eyes. (Y/N) scoffed, disgusted just by looking at his shock. "It should've been your body lying there, forgotten and alone."

(Y/N) raised the blade yet hesitated, his quivering lips pressing together tightly as his eyes flickered between Silco's eyes. The blue-green of his right that'd once been warm and gentle made his stomach churn violently.

For a moment, he found himself staring down at the Silco he used to know, the soft-spoken yet sarcastic young man who'd sit with him while he sketched and offer pointers with a small, tender smile. (Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut and brought the knife down, listening to it embed itself in the floorboard. Silco released a quiet, shaky breath.

Swallowing harshly, (Y/N) opened his eyes to glare down at him. "Where's Powder?" 

"My baby girl," (Y/N) carefully cradled her face in his hands, stroking his thumb over her pale skin as a manic laugh fell from his lips. She was real. "They told me you were dead. I-I thought you died with Mylo and Clogger that night. I should've- I should've looked harder. Where- Where have you been?" 

Violet wrapped her bandaged hands around his wrists and nuzzled her face into his palms, her shoulders lightly trembling as she took in a staggered breath. "Stillwater." She whispered, her teeth gently biting at her bottom lip as her eyes flickered away with a wince. "That Piltover officer.. the one that worked with Grayson, he.. he took me there. Kept me there this whole time." Her jaw clenched.

(Y/N) bit his tongue and took in a slow inhale, his eyes closing briefly. Marcus. He'd always hated the asshole, even more so after his promotion. "How- How'd you get out?" He blinked his eyes open, his brows knitting together in bewilderment. "Did- Did you escape?"

Stillwater was notorious for keeping a tight hold on its prisoners, and even if one managed to escape, the treacherous waters surrounding the small island would kill anyone who tried fleeing via swimming or boat. Violet had always been resilient, but even she couldn't have possibly escaped alone.

"No, I-"

"Violet! You have got to stop disappearing like that!" 

At the end of the alleyway, a young woman stumbled toward them, her fingers tugging the hood back over her head when it slipped after her clumsy attempt at wriggling free from the crowd. She kept her gaze pointed toward the crowd before she turned to look at them, her lips parting to speak, but she quickly closed them when she noticed him. She froze, stiff like a plank, and then slowly raised her hand to give an awkward wave. 

"Dad," Violet began, her lips twisting into a sheepish, hesitant smile. He frowned. Nothing good ever came out of a smile like that. "This is Caitlyn Kirraman."

"Kiramman?"/ "Dad?!"

(Y/N)'s head turned back to the dark blue haired-girl with a squinted gaze that only made her stiffen again. He raked his eyes over her slender figure, taking note of the clothes beneath the draps hanging onto her shoulders.

Her skin was too clear, too perfect. Her hair was too sleek and shiny. Her clothes were prim and delicate, not a hole or tear or washed-out color on a single article. Her hands looked smooth, free of callouses. Her body flinched with each loud noise that came from the night market, like a mouse in a den of vipers. Topsider, and given the weapon strapped to her back, she was an Enforcer.

He snapped his attention back to Violet and tore his hands from her face to set them over his hips disapprovingly. Violet's sheepish look grew, and she dropped her eyes onto the ground, where she lightly kicked a pebble aside. "You're with a Enforcer?! Violet! You just told me you were at Stillwater- I- Ugh." (Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose. "What am I going to do with you, Vi?" 

"Love me?" Violet proposed with a little, cheeky smile. 

(Y/N)'s shoulders sagged, a huff of amusement slipping past his lips before he tugged her into another tight embrace. "I missed your smartass comments, you little asshole." Violet's laugh sounded muffled against his shoulder, her arms sliding around his waist in an equally tight hug. "I always knew you'd be hard to get rid of.. like dog shit that gets stuck on the bottom of shoes." Violet laughed again, this time lightly pushing at his chest and rolling her eyes. 

"Ahem," Caitlyn shuffled forward toward them, her eyes jumping between their faces before she focused on him and stuck her hand out for him to shake with a polite yet strained smile. "As Vi said, I'm Caitlyn Kiramman. I helped your daughter get out of Stillwater Prison this morning." 

(Y/N) eyed her outstretched hand. "Why?"

"I.." Caitlyn trailed off, her fingers curling inward before she dropped her hand back to her side. "I need her help.. and yours, I suppose. There is an... ongoing investigation regarding stolen shipments that I have reason to believe have been orchestrated by the man you all know as Silco. If I gather enough evidence, we may be able to put him behind bars for once and for all." She firmly nodded. 

(Y/N)'s mouth drew into a taut line, his front teeth dragging along each other. He could still hear his own sobs echoing in his ears, the hoarse screams into his pillow the following weeks after the warehouse incident. He was so tired. He stared down at the stone ground beneath them, watching the water covering it reflect the neon signs lining the tops of the buildings above them.

His head shook lightly. "Don't bother."

"Dad, c'mon... You still have power here. People still respect you; some still fear you." Violet placed her hand over his shoulder, her fingers gently squeezing it. "If you rallied the people-"

"Your father was the leader, Violet. I was the follower, the one who took orders, the one who had to be patched up constantly. Everything and everyone I fought for is.. is gone. I have nothing left in me, Vi, I don't. All I do is wait for the day I can reunite with Van and be done with all this." 

The corners of Violet's brows angled upward. "You- You have me. I'm here, Dad. I'm- I'm back... and Powder.. she's still here, right? She's okay, right? Tell me she's okay, please."

"It's complicated, Vi. She.. She's alive." The relieved, breathy laugh that escaped Violet made him wince. He raised his gaze off the ground to look at her, the pained frown on his lips wiping the relief clean from her face. "I see her, sometimes. She pops by when she feels like it. Sometimes, we'll bump into each other and talk. She... she hasn't gone by Powder in a long time. Powpow doesn't exist anymore, Vi. She's one of Silco's lackeys now."

"What?"

"I've tried getting through to her for ages, even Ekko's given it a go, but she's stubborn. She's not well, Vi.. and Silco- Silco refuses to see it. I've told him time and time again but-" (Y/N) rubbed his fingertips over his forehead, soothing away a building headache. Their countless arguments rang clear in his ears. It was like talking to a wall on most days. "Our talks never go anywhere. I hate him too much, and he knows it. Uses it as a reason not to believe me. It's hopeless, Vi."

"No... No, no, I don't-" Violet turned away from him, one hand raising to clutch her chest while the other braced against the wall. "I-I don't believe that. She- She'd never work for him, not after what he did. You're wrong. I can help her, I swear. I-I can get through to her. I can prove it."

"It's not that simple, Vi." 

"I'm her big sister." Violet's hands curled into fists, and her head raised to look at him, the determination in her eyes startlingly similar to Vander's. It made his throat tighten. "She's my responsibility."

"You're my girls, Vi. You two will always be my responsibility... but things are different. If I push too hard, I risk losing her forever." He stepped toward her, reaching out to delicately touch her chin and remind himself she really was alive. Alive and no longer the little girl he'd taken care of since she was a newborn. "If you go running after her and Silco finds out, who knows what he'll do. I can't lose you again." 

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I can take care of myself." A tender smile spread on Violet's face, her hand enveloping his reassuringly. "I'll bring Powder back, and we'll be a family again, I promise."

[trippinsorrows]

dreamland: the rough patch

authors note: idk. i wanted to write something. this is what came out of my opening google docs. been sitting on this concept for a while anyway, so why not?

not really tagging anyone, cause idk, this is too short for a taglist. if ya see it, ya see it. 😭

warnings: angst

*** gif belongs to @dejameflorecer ***

words: 1.7k (see, i can write short shit!)

The door being closed does nothing.

It muffles, but it doesn’t sound it out completely. Doesn’t provide the soundproof barrier prayed and hoped for by Leya who sits on her bed, her baby sister pressed up against her side, the story book of the night on her lap.

Though something tells her that Aroha isn’t paying attention to the tale of a beautiful princess and the handsome prince who came to save her.

She’s paying attention to something else entirely.

“And the princess said to the prince—”

“Leya?” 

The minute Aroha’s soft voice interrupts Cataleya from finishing her sentence, she knows what’s about to be asked. She just does.

Leya does her best to maintain her smile. “Yes, Roro?”

Aroha’s previously neutral expression slips into something solemn and almost fearful. “Why are mommy and daddy fighting again?”

Leya’s eyes shut. 

She knew it.

Knew it was only a matter of time before it was asked. Aroha may only be five, but she has eyes. Eyes that can see every time their parents avoid eye contact or minimally interact when in the same room. Can see every time it’s Leya who knocks on her door to read her a bedtime story cause mommy and daddy are “busy.” Ears that can hear the arguing that’s transpired more often than usual for their parents. 

Arguing that’s been happening the past two weeks. Increasing in frequency. And intensity.

But, Aroha is also only five, thus she doesn’t need to know all the ins and outs. Truth be told, Cataleya doesn’t either. She tries not to think too much about it, as it spikes her own anxiety. Causes her to face what could be a devastating reality. 

A knock on the door leads to it opening, followed by a set of faces. Leya and Aroha’s siblings. All of them. 

And, they all look the same sans Tama and Lina.

Worried.

Wordlessly, the kids load into Leya’s room, Lina closing the door behind them. Samaria is the first to speak.

“They’re fighting again.”

Leya casts a glance over to her twin, grateful for her sudden presence. Lina has always been much better at handling things like this.

“Couples fight sometimes, Aria,” she supplies, forcing a small smile. Leya and Tama see right through it. “It happens.”

Koa is the first to speak up, poking a hole in the defense. “But, they’ve been fighting a lot.” He looks over at his twin, prompting Kai to supply his own counter as well.

“And mom and dad never fight.”

Leya doesn’t say anything. That’s not necessarily true. She’s definitely seen them argue on an occasion or two. 

But….never like this.

It’s never been like this.

“They’ve just got a lot going on, you guys.” Tama attempts to cheer up his younger siblings, seeing the worry on all their faces. “That’s all.”

But, it’s Aroha who says and voices what all of the Reign’s kids are secretly thinking, just afraid to say.

Looking up at Leya, Lina, and Tama, her biggest siblings, she asks in the most innocent, heartbreaking voice, “are mommy and daddy gonna get a divorce?” Just hearing it makes Leya’s stomach drop. A shared sentiment for all the kids.

Still, she does her best to remain calm. “Aroha….” Cataleya closes the book, pulling Aroha onto her lap as the rest of the kids sit on the edge of her bed and the seats spread across her room. “Where—where did you learn about that?”

Aroha pouts, her voice so soft and sweet in nature. “My friend Raya’s mommy and daddy got a divorce, and now she only sometimes sees her mommy and sometimes sees her daddy.” Aroha’s eyes begin to water, followed by sniffling. “I don’t wanna live with mommy or daddy. I wanna live with mommy and daddy.”

“Oh, Roro….” Cataleya welcomes her into her chest, allowing her to silent cry, to let out her emotions. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“Mom and dad would never get a divorce….right?” A tentative, nervous question asked by Samaria but issued to the OG’s. 

“They would never split us up,” Kai says with a level of conviction that wavers and fumbles as he too falls victim to his fears. “Right?”

It’s only then when the indecision washes over to Lina that she takes charge. “No.” She says, voice firm, drawing the attention of everyone to her. “Mom and dad are not going to get a divorce. No one is separating us. We’re a family, and that’s never going to change.”

Tama nods, recognizing that even if he’s struggling with his own anxiety about the unexpected onset of his parents' marriage problems, there’s no need to worry his siblings more than they already are. “Lina’s right. Mom and dad love each other. They’re just going through something. They’ll figure it out.”

Words that seem to somewhat settle Samaria, Koa, and Kai. Aroha requires a little more consolation from Leya, gentle kisses pressed to the top of her bonnet covered head. 

But, as the Reigns’ children work to comfort each other, the cause of said distress continues, thrives, prolongs longer than necessary down the hall, behind closed doors but never out of hearing distance.

Not from the children.

“Roman.” Solana closes her eyes and rubs her temples. This all feels so circular. “I don’t understand what you’re not understanding.” Because, she truly doesn’t. “I’m just asking you to commu—”

“Communicate with you, I know,” he cuts her off. Solana focuses on him. He looks just as exhausted as she feels. “I heard you the first time, Solana.”

“Then why aren’t you doing it?” She snaps, shaking her head. “Why do I have to keep repeating myself?” Without giving him a chance to respond, she continues, pointing out, “it takes five seconds to text me and tell me you’ll be home late—”

“Yeah, well, sometimes I don’t have five seconds, okay?” He cuts her off once more, running his hand over his face. “I text you when I can, Sol. I always do.”

She scoffs, looking away before crossing her arms. “A half hour after dinner time is not soon enough, Roman.” She points out what was an issue once again just earlier this evening. “I’m worried about you. The kids are wondering where you are—”

“They should know I’m working,” he counters, adding with a level of a defensiveness. “You should tell them I’m working, so they don’t worry.”

“Yes, of course, I’ll just add it to the list of the other 50 million things I’m doing.” Solana says with all the sarcasm before switching back to seriousness. “Roman, I am stretched so thin right now—”

“And you don’t think I am?” He challenges. “Why do you think I’ve been getting back so late?”

Solana hesitates to respond, readying for a generic answer but ultimately settles on the truth. “I don’t even know anymore.”

If she didn’t have her husband’s attention, she most definitely has it now. Roman’s face drops. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

She doesn’t say anything at first, partially wishing she hadn’t let the intrusive thoughts win. But, with the genie out the bottle, there’s no backing away from it now.

“You’re secretive. You come home much later than you have before. You….you don’t talk to me like you used to, and and you—you haven’t touched me—” She stops herself, hating the emotion building up. One minute she was angry with him, and now she’s on the brink of tears. “I just don’t know what’s going on—”

“What are you accusing me of, Solana?” A pointed, straight-forward question that he answers for himself, the devastation, hurt, and anger all palpable. “What, you think I’m fucking cheating on you? Is that what you think?”

Solana shakes her head, standing up from the bed. This is too much. “I can’t do this right now, Roman.”

“No.” He stops her, moving before her, blocking her path from the bathroom. Her destination. “We’re gonna have this discussion right now—”

“I said I don’t want to, Roman.”

“I don’t care.” 

The wrong answer, because as saddened as Solana was before, she’s irritated now. Stepping past him, she stalks over to her dresser, pulling out a change of clothes. “I said no, Roman.” Swallowing, she turns around and matches his intense gaze. “You used to listen to me when I said that.”

A slap in the face. It’s evident in the hurt that flashes in his eyes. That’s heard as he replies, evenly, “and, you used to trust me.”

A devastating blow. On both ends. One that renders both silent for a good moment or two, before Roman is back at it.

“Solana, we need to talk about thi—”

“I can’t, Roman—”

“Avoiding it isn’t going—”

“They found something when I went in for my mammogram.”

Probably the most unexpected thing to leave either set of mouths and most definitelysomething Solana didn’t want to share. Not right now. Not like this.

Because the look on Roman’s face is something she can barely stand to tolerate. His tone and volume have shifted almost entirely. “Wh—what?” She looks away, the tears finally spilling over. “What do you mean they fo—”

“I have follow up testing next week, but in the meantime, I need to not deal with all this stress.” She clasps her hands together, taking a deep breath, voice cracking at the end. “So, when I say I can’t deal with this shit right now, Roman…I can’t deal with it.”

Solana could and maybe should give him more than that. Should elaborate on what is easily the biggest bombshell he—and she—have faced in a while. If, she’s even facing it, because the fact that she’s been sitting on such a thing for almost two weeks speaks volumes. Roman’s correct in that they need to talk, need to sit down and actually try to conversate without it turning into an argument. 

But, not tonight.

Tonight, she can’t and won’t think about anything. 

Because thinking about it means confronting what could easily be a terrifying reality. 

One she refuses to acknowledge.

Not….not unless it becomes something.

[daegall]

☆ unexpected company.

➷ in which the Gods give your boyfriend a shitty past few weeks, and you attempt to make up for it.

pairing: son of poseidon!jeno x daughter of apollo!reader

genre: reverse hurt comfort, fluff, angst, established relationship!AU

warnings: mentions of injuries (i think???)

word count: 2k words

a/n: jumpscare guys omg what the fuck i havent written since christmas 2 years ago LOOOOL um anyways........ comeback ? everyone say thank you jeno bc he is always and will always be my inspiration <3

btw this is basically . pt.2 of late night company so if you wanna go read that for just a little bit of context go crazy!! (you can read it without it tho)

The last few weeks in the infirmary have been busy, buzzing with clumsy teens and kids who carelessly run around in a sparring with someone clearly much stronger than them. You guess they get it from their god parent. As much as you love the infirmary and taking care of people, you're tired. Really tired. However, your (finally official) boyfriend for 2 months has always been there to help you through it.

Jeno Lee is someone you never expected to be so loving, but really, you should have known when he gave up his own team's flag just to go help you fight off Clairise during a capture the flag match. Despite his very busy schedule, Jeno loves to hang out around you, cracking jokes when you tend to crying, injured kids, getting you water when you don't realize you need it, and always attentively listening to you, whether it be a rant of frustration, or just a chat. Your favorite part is when he kisses you and tells you of how good of a job you've done.

As mentioned, Jeno has a very busy schedule. As expected, from a child of one of the big three gods. However, recently it's been… really packed. When Jeno does have the mercy of free time, he's always sleeping. You haven't seen him in two whole weeks. He's never talking to his friends, you never seen him swimming anymore,a nd worst of all? He's not eating. He loves to eat─and he's not eating. This calls for an emergency visit.

If only you had the ability to. You're in charge of the infirmary, however, and can never seem to find a replacement since your siblings always avoid the job and run away. You contemplate running away from your duties. For Jeno. You could send Jaemin to check up on him… no, he'd end up flirting with any girl (or guy!) he sees on the way. Damn Aphrodite kids. Finally, you decide to act on the former thought.

You don't even make it to the door, before you notice a very familiar presence by the door.

Your breath hitches as your eyes meet Jeno's. They look… tired. Nonetheless, you can still sense the love behind them, and it stirs something in you. You feel a small flame light in your heart, as if he's the one that set it on fire. The fire spreads to your feet as you make your way to him, to your fingertips as they reach out for him, and it's as if that fire has radiated on him, because he instantly melts into your touch, his nose bumping into your palm as he sighs out in what you can only make out to be satisfaction.

Despite his happy demeanor, you still can shake off the feeling of worry that stirs within you, noticing how his shoulders are tense─how he limps as you escort him towards a bed, how exhausted he looks. You wonder if this is how he felt when he saw you that night, on his dock, crying. If so, you'd never want him to feel this way ever again.

"I was just about to come to you, you know," You laugh softly, as you take a seat next to him and grab his hand in yours. It's warm, you've missed how warm it was.

Jeno's fingers instinctively curl between yours, and you feel the callouses of his fingertips on your skin, and it's oddly comforting. His head leans against yours, and he's strangely touchy, as if you were his battery source─like sunlight to a sunflower. "Oh? You were going to sneak out for me?"

You roll your eyes fondly. "I'd do anything for you."

"I know,"

And when his lips press against your temple, its you who melts this time, transforming into a giggly, grinning mess.

"I've missed you, you know,"

Jeno knows. He hopes you know that he's missed you even more. He's missed you every time he sees a band aid, he missed you every time someone made a lame joke, he saw you in every sunrise and sunset, he missed you when he gazed into water─which happens a lot, as a child of Poseidon. If he could, he'd abandon all these missions─what the hell are camp counselors thinking anyway, sending a kid off to beat the largest, most hazardous of creatures? He guesses that's the price of having power.

Jeno doesn't want power, however. He wants you. If power is in the way of him seeing you, he'd rather give it all away to the first person who asked, he'd give everything away for you.

"I've missed you too, baby,"

Your eyes tear away from your connected hands, trailing up to meet his own. They're longing and earnest. You smile, in hopes to comfort him.

It works, it always works. Jeno grins back, his other hand reaching up to brush your hair from your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. He notices a small chunk of your hair is shorter than others, and thinks back to the letter you sent him, the one where you ranted out of frustration when your siblings pranked you during your sleep and cut your hair. He smiles.

"Tell me about your missions," You mumble, encouraging him to fill you in on everything you missed out.

"Well… I kicked ass. Got my ass kicked. End of story?"

Jeno yelps and laughs when you punch at his shoulder. "Fine, fine, it was… fun,"

"Really? But isn't it scary to be doing that all alone?"

In an instant, Jeno's face changes. Alone. He's been feeling that lately.

"uh… yeah, you could say that."

You notice the way his lips curl down, how his brows just furrow slightly. It tugs on your heart.

You squeeze his hand gently, head dipping down to chase his gaze. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Jeno's lips curl back into a smile, and though its weaker than before, it's still there. "Nothing, just a little tired." You nod at his words, processing and attempting to dissect his intentions. "…okay, do you wanna rest here? I can watch over you,"

At your pure intentions and even purer heart, Jeno melts, pulling you closer with a shake of his head. "No need, just want to be here, with you. No longer alone…"

"Hey," You give him a look. He knows that look. You've caught him red-handed. "I'm here for you, you know that. Tell me what's wrong…"

Jeno cracks almost instantly. He could never be dishonest when it comes to you─he could never hurt you. "I just… I was so lonely on those missions. Yeah, I was out at sea, and sure I did talk to my dad a few times but it's… it's not the same as camp, you know? Where you could spar endlessly just for fun, where every meal was full of laughter and not some cold, prepacked plate of literal shit. Where fighting never had me thinking that this could be my last fight."

He pauses for a moment, breathing in deep breaths, but you wait for him. You know when to talk, and now is not the time. Instead, you rub up and down comfortingly at his back, something he's always loved. You feel his breathing slow, and his muscles relax. Then, he continues.

"Nobody understands me. I'm the only Big Three child here, and I hate it. I hate that I'm the only one who doesn't get to join bonfire nights, I hate that I'm the only one that has to constantly live in fear of constant death, I hate that I can't love you the loudest─just to keep you safe! God, I hate that I can't give you everything… to tell you the truth… I hated it out there. I hated every second in solitude, I hated how my thoughts raced for no reason, and how I could hear my heartbeat in my ears, and how empty I felt. I know I'm an introvert, and I love my personal time, but out there… I wasn't alone. I felt like death was creeping up on me, keeping me company. I didn't want death's company─I wanted your company. I missed you, Y/N… so much… and it killed me to know that you missed me too."

Your heart shatters at his words, and the glassy look in his eye, indicating his tears. Your palms envelop his cheeks, despite his tight grip, and you gently direct him to look down at you. "You're here now, aren't you? I'm here, with you," You start with a shaky breath. "and don't you dare say you don't give me everything. You give me everything and more. You'd give me the whole universe and still think it's too little, Jeno," You laugh airily, squeezing his cheeks fondly. "and even though you were away, I always felt loved. You don't need to be here physically for me to know, you know, that how much I trust you. So trust in me too, please. Trust that I'm satisfied, trust that I can take care of myself and that I want you to love me without any fears because we shouldn't have to have fears. Let go, you uptight man, and live! There might not be a lot of people out there who get exactly what you're going through, but people will relate on some level. People are just like that, empathizing and loving. Don't hate who you are, please, because you'd be hating something that I love, something I know is always worth my time and attention and something I will never give up on. Okay?"

Jeno stares at you, his eyes glossy with a tint of red on the outer corners of his eyes. He still looks handsome. He's always handsome. His hand are on your waist, his thumbs rubbing gently over the material of your t-shirt, gently tugging you towards him.

"…shit, did I ramble? Was I too fast? Do I need to say it all again? Gods─um, you give me everything, and more, and I trust you, and I─"

Jeno shuts you up effectively, nudging away your hands holding at his face to dip his head down and connect his lips with yours. They're salty with tears, and so soft, moving gently against yours as you reciprocate the kiss, your hands finding comfort in his hair. He kisses you with yearning, and he thinks that if you came just a millimeter closer, you'd feel the ache of his heart and his craving for you. Your comfort, your hugs, kisses, your smile and your gentle touches, your appreciative glances, your love. He craves your love, and now that he has it, he won't ever let go.

He makes it clear as he chases your lips when you pull away in what is, in his opinion, way too fast, gently maneuvering you closer to him, your chests pressed together and arms wrapped around one another. You wouldn't be surprised if your heart reached out and merged with his.

When Jeno does pull way, it's only to shower your face with kisses and hug you even tighter.

"I'm always here for you, Jen,"

"I know, baby."

You grin, taking his hand in yours as you gaze into his eyes. "Stay the night? I've missed your cuddles."

Jeno's nose bumps against yours as he nods, his smile mirroring yours. "Never wanted anything more."

As you lay in an infirmary bed, wrapped in Jeno's arms, you realize that Jeno has already given you the universe. The warmth you identified as a flame of adoration in your heart has grown into a sun, and Jeno's orbiting around that sun, keeping you loved and cared for. Much like how he is your moon, and you are the tide, constantly gravitating towards him. You like this universe he's gifted you.

[for-my-reasons]

Saltwater

Love and Deepspace, Rafayel x Sylus

On Ao3 here

A/N: Got the idea from @napa-the-yappa, and had a friend beta read and help me out on posting it here.

Summary: Sylus and Rafayel go on a underwater date.

Content: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Established Relationship, Not Canon Compliant

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the sandy beach and the sparkling ocean waves. Rafayel stretched lazily on a beach towel, his dusky purple hair catching the sunlight as he tilted his head back. His white shirt was unbuttoned, fluttering gently in the breeze, while his rolled-up trousers were already speckled with sand. He glanced over at Sylus, who stood a few feet away with his arms crossed, his black blazer draped over his shoulders despite the heat. The silver-haired man glared at the ocean as if it had personally offended him.

Rafayel smirked. "You know the water won't bite. Unless you're scared of it."

Sylus shot him a sharp look, his red eyes narrowing. "I'm not scared. I just don't see the point of wading around in saltwater like some mindless fish."

Rafayel chuckled, standing up and brushing sand off his pants. "Oh, come on. You’re telling me the great Sylus, leader of Onychinus, can’t handle a little swim? Or is it that you can’t swim at all?"

Sylus’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Rafayel thought he might deny it. But then Sylus muttered, "I never needed to learn."

Rafayel’s eyes lit up with mischief. "Oh, this is too good. The mighty Sylus, brought low by the ocean. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. Consider it a favour from your favourite artist."

Sylus rolled his eyes but didn’t protest as Rafayel grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the water. The waves lapped at their feet, cool and refreshing, and Rafayel grinned as Sylus stiffened at the sensation.

"Relax," Rafayel said, his voice softening. "It’s just water. I’ve got you."

Sylus huffed but allowed Rafayel to guide him deeper, his usual confidence faltering as the water reached his waist. Rafayel turned to face him, his blue-and-pink eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Okay, first lesson: don’t panic. Just float. The water will hold you if you let it."

Sylus raised an eyebrow. "Float. That’s your brilliant advice?"

Rafayel grinned. "Trust me. Now, lean back. I’ll support you."

Sylus hesitated but eventually leaned back, his muscles tense as Rafayel’s hands steadied him. The water enveloped him, and for a moment, he looked almost peaceful—until a wave splashed over his face, and he shot upright, coughing. Rafayel burst out laughing.

Sylus glared at him, water dripping from his silver hair. "This is ridiculous. I don’t need to swim. I’ve survived this long without it."

Rafayel’s laughter subsided, and he stepped closer, his expression softening. "But you’re missing out on so much. Let me show you."

Sylus sighed, his resistance wavering. "Fine. But if I drown, I’m haunting you."

Rafayel grinned. "Deal. Now, for the next part…" He hesitated, his cheeks turning a faint pink. "You’ll need to, uh, kiss me."

Sylus blinked. "What?"

Rafayel rubbed the back of his neck, his blush deepening. "It’s a Lemurian thing. I can share my ability to breathe underwater, but it requires… physical contact. A kiss, to be exact."

Sylus stared at him for a moment, then smirked. "Is this your way of getting me to kiss you, Raf?"

Rafayel’s face turned even redder, spreading to his ears. "N-no! It’s just how it works! Don’t make it weird!"

Sylus chuckled, clearly enjoying Rafayel’s flustered state. "Alright, alright. If it’s necessary, I suppose I can endure it."

Rafayel muttered something under his breath about ungrateful dragons but leaned in anyway. Their lips met, soft and brief, and Rafayel pulled away quickly, his face still flushed. "There. Now you can breathe underwater. Don’t waste it."

Sylus smirked, clearly savouring Rafayel’s embarrassment. "Not bad, fishy. Maybe I should pretend to drown more often."

Rafayel groaned, splashing water at him. "Come on, let’s go before I change my mind."

Hand in hand, they waded deeper into the ocean. Rafayel’s excitement was visible as he pointed out schools of colourful fish and vibrant coral reefs. Sylus, despite his initial reluctance, found himself interested by the underwater world Rafayel revealed to him. The way Rafayel’s eyes lit up as he explained the different species, the passion in his voice—it was impossible not to be drawn in.

As they swam deeper, sunlight filtered through the water, casting patterns on the ocean floor. Rafayel’s movements were fluid and graceful as if he were born to be in the water, while Sylus, although still somewhat stiff, was gradually mastering the technique.

Rafayel glanced back at Sylus, his blue-and-pink eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "See? Told you it was worth it," he said, his voice carrying a playful tone even underwater. He reached out and took Sylus’s hand again, pulling him gently toward a cluster of coral. "Over here, look at this."

Sylus followed, his red eyes scanning the intricate structures of the coral. Tiny fish darted in and out of the crevices, their scales catching the light like jewels. For a moment, he forgot to be annoyed. "It’s... impressive," he admitted grudgingly.

Rafayel beamed, clearly pleased with himself. "Told you. The ocean has its kind of magic. It’s not just about survival—it’s about living. You should try it sometime."

Sylus raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting I don’t know how to live?"

Rafayel shrugged, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I’m just saying, you could stand to loosen up a little. Not everything has to be about strategy and control."

Sylus snorted but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out and brushed his fingers against a passing school of fish, watching as they scattered and regrouped. "I suppose there’s some merit to this," he conceded. "But don’t think this means I’m going to start frolicking in the waves every chance I get."

Rafayel laughed, the sound bubbling up like the currents around them. "I’ll take what I can get. Baby steps, cute. Baby steps."

They continued exploring, with Rafayel pointing out various sea creatures and sharing stories about his time in the ocean. Sylus listened, occasionally offering a dry comment or sarcastic remark, but his gaze was curious. For once, he wasn’t thinking about plans or power—he was simply present, caught in the moment

They floated in silence for a while, the gentle currents carrying them along. For the first time in what felt like forever, Sylus felt a strange sense of calm. It was unfamiliar, but not entirely unwelcome. He glanced over at Rafayel, who had closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. The sunlight filtering through the water made his dusky purple hair shimmer, and for a moment, Sylus found himself captivated.

"You’re staring," Rafayel said without opening his eyes, his smile widening.

Sylus quickly looked away, his usual composure returning. "I was not."

Rafayel laughed, opening his eyes and turning to face him. "You’re a terrible liar, cutie. But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Your reputation is safe with me."

Sylus sighed, though there was no real annoyance in it. "You’re tolerable. Barely."

Rafayel grinned, clearly taking that as a win. "I’ll take it. Now, come on. There’s one more thing I want to show you."

Before Sylus could protest, Rafayel grabbed his hand and pulled him deeper, toward a hidden grotto lit up by bioluminescent algae. The walls glowed softly, casting an ethereal light that made the entire space feel otherworldly.

"Welcome to my secret spot," Rafayel said, his voice tinged with pride. "Not many people get to see this."

Sylus looked around, taking in the shimmering walls and the gentle hum of the water. "It’s... remarkable," he admitted quietly.

Rafayel smiled, his expression softer now. "I knew you’d like it. You’ve got a thing for beautiful, mysterious things, don’t you?"

Sylus glanced at him, his red eyes narrowing slightly. "Are you calling yourself beautiful and mysterious?"

Rafayel laughed, the sound echoing softly in the grotto. "Maybe. But I was talking about the grotto. Unless you think I’m beautiful too?"

Sylus shook his head, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "You’re impossible."

"And yet, you’re still here," Rafayel said, his tone light but his gaze steady. "Maybe you’re starting to like impossible things."

Sylus didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either. 

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, they returned to the shore. Rafayel flopped onto the sand, exhausted but happy. Sylus sat beside him, his usual smugness replaced by a rare softness.

"Thanks," Sylus said quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "For today."

Rafayel smiled, leaning his head against Sylus’s shoulder. "Anytime, cutie. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you next time you act all high and mighty."

Sylus chuckled, wrapping an arm around Rafayel. "Wouldn’t dream of it, my little fishy.”

[whoredyceps]

"OH LOVER BOY!" || 28 Days of Love: A Valentine's Challenge + Series

day twenty-eight: "we could get caught-!"

ᰔ pairing: oberyn martell x reader

ᰔ summary: there's nothing you despise more than feasts held in the king's landing. rubbing elbows, the scrutinizing stares of those around you, everything about it. good thing oberyn's good at getting your mind off of it.

ᰔ author's note: a bittersweet goodbye to this series and february as a whole! i want to say a huge thank you to everyone who has followed along and supported this series. i love writing, and this was so much fun to do, and i made a ton of new friends through it ♡ i love you all and thank you again!!!!! time to finish it out with my #1 pedro boy (also thank you to @ananonymousaffair for being my oberyn bestie 💛)

ᰔ content warning: 18+ /// MDNI!!!! it's oberyn all bets are off, afab!reader, fingering, hint of vouyerism, nondescript reader, loose got lore/canon

"I still don't understand what this little song and dance is all for," you admitted. "If you hate the Lannisters, why must we attend the feast?"

Oberyn had his hand on your back as the two of you walked into the maze of tents and tables. As much as you hated to admit it, it was beautiful. It was no Martell festivity, but you admired the decor all the same.

"Doran insists we still remain pleasant for the sake of our people. Shake hands, kiss ass, all in the name of peace." Oberyn spoke under his breath; he nodded to those he knew as the two of you weaved through the crowd.

"And that means we are the ones to do the ass kissing?" You asked with a huff. You had learned many things during your time with the prince, but no amount of etiquette could hold back your snark.

"Only for this feast, then we'll be back home before you know it. You know how much I detest the King's Landing anyways," Oberyn sighed. "The only thing I hate more is a Lannister."

You rolled your eyes, unable to stop yourself. Next time, you'd drag Doran by his chair and make him deal with the consequences of peace. Even Oberyn's touch couldn't help— not when you had to defend your very existence.

Among the rumor mills, everyone knew of the Dornish prince and his way around the bedroom. When you became his partner, the word began to spread that you had been corrupted.

Once a 'proud product of the North', now you were known as the whore prince's cockwarmer. Nothing got under your skin more, the idea that you were boiled down to some thing Oberyn kept around. Your value was inherently linked with the prince.

And so what if you did warm his cock? You were more than that. You were more than anything they said about you. While you knew that, and Oberyn was more than eager to remind you of that, it still made your blood boil to know that people had reduced you to something lower than the shit on their shoes.

You remained silent at Oberyn's side. While that was not who you were, you also understood the importance of your reputation. Anything you did reflected back onto your partner, and that alone kept your mouth shut. Even in front of Cersei, you gave her a tight lipped smile and bowed when the time called for it.

"If I smile one more time, I believe my lips may fall off," you muttered in Oberyn's ear. The two of you moved to the outskirts of the feast, closer to the edge of the nearby brush. While you enjoyed the desert and arid land you called home, you did take to the greenery that surrounded you.

"We can't have that," Oberyn tutted. "I enjoy those lips far too much." He hooked a finger under your chin and tugged your lips towards his. You let yourself loosen a bit, your thoughts lost in the whirlwind that was the prince.

As you kissed him, you felt a new sensation. Something you detested, almost. You pulled away to look around. While no one directly stared at you, you felt the side glances and sneers sent your way. It was a new feeling, something sour that sat in your gut.

You never had a problem with people watching before. This was different. In Oberyn's bedchambers, you were no stranger to a few additions with wandering eyes. Though here, you felt the cloak of shame they wrapped around you.

You looked around with knit eyebrows. Every murmur from the mouths of those around you felt like scrutiny, like the tarnishing of Oberyn's name. Your thoughts clouded, unaware of the hands that wandered down your waist. Lips pressed against your neck, trailed up and down every bit of exposed skin.

"I can hear you," Oberyn muttered against your skin. "Your mind is so loud despite how quiet you are. Care to clue me in?"

You sighed under your breath. He knew you like the back of his hand. There wasn't much you could hide from him— not that you wanted to.

"It's like I can hear their voices just over my shoulder," you admitted. "Their glances are like pin pricks." You felt Oberyn's kisses stop, his hands slowed as they settled on your hips. He glanced up to see what you were talking about.

"If they like to watch, I can give them a show." Oberyn's lips were back on your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed as he suckled on the sweet spot right beneath your ear.

"Oberyn," you breathed. "Not here. What was that about pleasantries?" It was hard to use logic, considering the way Oberyn filled your senses. His touch made your mind beg for more, beg for anything he was willing to give you.

"I do not know if I can wait any longer."

All at once, the kisses and touches stopped. Your eyes widened and your expression soured. Though you didn't have time to harp on it as Oberyn grabbed your hand and tugged you deeper into the brush.

After a few feet, Oberyn's lips were back on yours. The two of you were close enough to hear the music and chatter, but hidden by the thick trees that kept the feast secluded. Your back was pressed against the trunk of a tree, his body flush against yours.

"We could get caught—!" Your concern was cut off by Oberyn's hand as it slipped underneath your dress and cupped your cunt.

"Let them catch us. Fuck them," Oberyn spoke under his breath as he looked at your lips. As he spoke, one of his fingers ghosted over your clit. You shivered, the feeling too good to deny yourself of the pleasure.

"Fuck 'em." You kissed him again, this time sloppy and full of lust. One hand tangled in his hair, the other on the back of his neck.

The slow, tantalizing circles Oberyn drew around your clit made the noise melt away. Between the kisses and his fingers, it was easy to forget what had gotten you so worked up. He always seemed to know how to clear your mind, your senses, of anything but him.

Oberyn kissed along your jaw, a silent worship as he teased your entrance. You tried to bite back a moan, but it was easier said than done. He let out a deep chuckle.

"Let them hear you, my love. Let them know you are well taken care of." Oberyn watched as you fidgeted, your hips bucked as you tried to chase the feeling of his fingers.

"Fuck—! Oberyn," you whimpered. "Harder."

You felt Oberyn smirk against your neck before he obeyed your request. As his fingers quickened their pace, you buried your face in his shoulder. Your hand, buried in his hair, tugged at the locks as you felt that tight knot in your stomach.

"What beautiful sounds you make," Oberyn murmured. "How sad that others must go on without hearing them." While he found it true, there was this greedy part of him that reveled in that fact.

He was the only one who got to touch you like this, see you as you came apart in his hands. Sure, the two of you had taken a few men and women to bed, but you didn't make noises like this when they touched you. They didn't know you like he did. No one did.

You gripped Oberyn's robe tight as pleasure washed over you, the sounds he loved so much muffled by the golden fabric on his chest. Your shoulders heaved as you tried to catch your breath. Even as you came down, his fingers still worked your sensitive clit.

Instead of responding, you finally looked up and kissed him. His fingers moved away, much to your disappointment. It had worked, his ulterior motive. Oberyn always knew how to get your mind off of the present, off of whatever had your head in the clouds.

"Do we have to return?" Your voice was low, a desperate plea from your lips.

Oberyn shook his head. He helped steady you before he began to guide you back to the feast.

"What was it that I said earlier?"

You thought for a moment, a bit confused. In a post-orgasm haze, your mind was anything but useful. It took a beat, but you finally nodded with a slight smile.

"Fuck 'em."

Oberyn smirked. He kept a firm hand on your back as you two reemerged from the brush. Eyes were on you, but you didn't care. You knew what waited for you the moment you were in closed quarters.

[willowdumbdumb]

Heyyy I'm posting this on tumbler ahhh omg wow

(ART BELONGS TO MY FRIEND @lilavod GO CHECK THEIR ART OUT. NOW) ANYWAYS BACK TO THIS

------Sweet Valentine----

Valentines' day. A day full of love, many types of love. A great day to show your loved ones they are, well, loved!

Every toon was pretty easy to get gifts. Goob gets cookies. Teagen gets pastries for her tea parties. There was even something for Shrimpo! There was only one toon that Cosmo still couldn't figure out what to do for…

Sprout.

In concept it sounds easy, but the moment it was attempted. It sucked. Every idea Cosmo even thought of, someone was already doing it or it just wasn't great enough.

New baking supplies? Eh he already had so much, plus Sprout got plenty last year.

What about sewing a new scarf? Sprout would surely love that! Well, it was a great idea until he spotted Shelly working away on a scarf also for the strawberry.

A new recipe! Cosmo could just go look in the library for a recipe that they haven't tried yet, Sprout loved making new things. But who gives something for their partner to make for Valentines' Day? That wouldn't work. Not in cosmos mind.

He would just bake something for Sprout like he was doing for everyone else. But Cosmo wanted it to be special.

Sprout’s vagueness with everything he liked didn't help at all.

Flowers? “They're ok”

Chocolates? “Mmm aight.”

Jewelry?!?! “Okay”

“God damn it, why do you have to be so hard!!” Cosmo banged his head on the table while exclaiming, notepad and pencil next to him. Things were scribbled down, then was immediately scribbled over. (Say gex/j)

Every. single. Idea.

He lifted his head and glanced over at Sprout, walking from the elevator towards the kitchen. “Sprout, what are you doing down here?” He questioned while pushing the notepad away.

“Eh, I just thought I should stop by and see you. What’re you doing anyway?” he pushed himself to lean onto the table Cosmo was sitting at. Sitting up in his chair, Cosmo responded, “I’m trying to figure out some valentine ideas...”

Sprout held a smug smile on his face, “For someone special?” The words made his eyes shot open.

“Of course not! Its uh for everyone!”

“Whatever you say” Sprout replied and rubbed the top of the swiss roll’s head, then he got an idea. “How about we work on it together? Pass over some of your ideas!”

Cosmo jumped at his yell, scratching his hand. “Uh...” think think think- “Baking a bunch of pastries” shit. What if sprout agrees to that plan?

“A bunch of pastries for everyone...” Sprout raised his chin and looked over at the oven and counters that were for the common toons. “...How about instead we do a valentines themed picnic lunch? I could ask Dandy if we can use the garden”

Cosmo gripped at his hoodie, a dribble of frosting falling off him. “Yeahhh sounds great.” He gritted his teeth together, Sprout reached over to fix his frosting. “Yeah? I'll go ahead and ask the flower and you jot down food ideas!”

His smile faltered when sprout finally went inside the elevator and left. Cosmo slammed his head against the table. Why in the world did he agree to this.

—-----------------------

Cosmo screwed up. The two spent the day before Valentine's Day baking and cooking for the picnic. The whole day. Not a minute was left for Cosmo to go continue thinking of a gift. So now here he was on Valentine's Day, with no gift for his best friend.

“Think we got everything?” Sprout spread out the large blanket on the soft fake grass. (The bakers will have to thank Dandy again for letting them use the garden.)

“Yeah, everything's set.” His focus was set on other things, the picnic not being it. “I'll tell everyone lunch is ready.” Sprout shuffled up, stretching his arms and walking off. Leaving Cosmo to his thoughts again.

‘What would be a good last-minute gift...’

He looked at one of the containers. A cylinder metal container containing some cookies.

His eyes lit up, Cosmo knows what to do! He might've said it wasn't good enough before but now It was all he had. Cosmo jumped up and ran towards the elevator almost running into the poor strawberry.

“Ey Cos’ what are you in the rush for?” Other toons walked past them, heading to the picnic area.

“I uh. I forgot to bake something!” Sprout raised an eyebrow, eyes questioning the swiss roll’s forgetfulness “I can help you do it—”

“NO!” sprouts eyes widened at his yell. “I mean– no! You focus on having fun, I'll be real quick, ok?” Before Sprout could even resist Cosmo ran off, only just letting his friend watch him.

The strawberry’s eyes softened, and his mouth curved. Even if he was upset about Cosmo ditching them for a short time, the sweet swiss roll had a tight rope on sprouts heart that couldn't make him that angry.

—---------------

The plan was absolutely perfect! Cosmo would make a cupcake quickly and use some frosting to frost it as sprouts face! Ok it sounded weird but the two made a cookie with Astros face, so it had the idea.

‘Just whip up some batter, pop it in the oven..and fix up some frosting.’

He reached over for the ingredients and got to work!

—-----------------

Sprout sat relaxed on the corner of the blanket. Everyone had finished the food, now just chatting along themselves. It mostly contained more gift giving. He let out a sigh, wishing for Cosmo to be there.

He gripped at his own hand. What was so important he had to do now? All the toons had gotten all the pasties they were gifted. What in the word had Cosmo forgotten about...

“Uh hum.” A cough came up behind him, making him turn his head, kicking him out of his thinking and looking up at who was there. “Cosmo! You're back!” Sprout jumped up and wrapped his arms around him.

“I saved some food for you, didn't want you to be hungry,” he said and gestured to where a plate sat next to where Sprout was sitting. Cosmo looked down at the plate, “oohh sprout how nice of you...”

“Now” Sprouts hands gripped the others’ shoulder. “What was so important you had to go?” Oh. Right.

“I'm so sorry again–”

“Ah ah just tell me. I'm dying of curiosity ‘ere!”

Cosmo lowered his gaze and brought out a small brown box with a red ribbon around it. “I uh... I had to get you something...”

Inside the box was a cupcake with Sprout’s very own face on it. “I understand you don’t like it. I made it very last min—”

“I love it! It\s so cute!” Sprout joyfully chirped and set the cupcake down on his plate. “You went to do that?”

Cosmo blinked a few times and looked away, “Well, yeah, I needed to get you something! I didn't want to show up to you empty handed so I made that really fast” A laughter broke his rant, a booming laughter.

The strawberry was laughing.

“Why- why are you laughing?”

“Cos’ you didn't need to get me anything! I'm serious!” Sprout hugged onto Cosmo. “I appreciate the gift, but you didn't need to... “

He tilted his head and pecked Cosmo’s cheek, lips brushing against the stars on them. “You being here is enough for me ‘aight?”

Cosmo’s eyes started to tear up and he tightened his grip around Sprout. “Why are you crying??”" I'm sorry I just- I just love you so much”

“Oh, my goodness Cosmo. I love you too, ok?"

He held back a sniffle and turned to face him. "Really?”

Sprout smiled and held the others hand, "I love you a lot Cosmo. Happy Valentine's Day”

[thedreadvampy]

Sorry about your loss :( when youre feeling up to it, I'd love to hear some memories about Otis.

well as often happens in these situations one thing I'm finding is I didn't take enough pictures of him while I had the chance.

Otis, as my friend said in some distress when I told them last week that he was sick, was The People's Boy. Everybody loved him and he loved people, he was enthusiastically ready to meet strangers and greet friends. He was an exceptionally sweet and chill man and he actively enjoyed handling, so he converted several people who weren't sure of snakes at all into huge Otis fans.

He was an incredibly beautiful boy - he was very big and muscular before he got sick, and he had creamy white and dark brown patterning that made him look like tempered chocolate. His belly was this lovely graphic checkerboard and he had a face that always made me think of a rabbit's face - big brown eyes and a pinkish nose and a little moustache pattern that gave him :3 face.

He liked to climb all over you, and he particularly liked to climb long hair. he would reach himself out so far his whole body was trembling. but he wasn't ever really trying to get away, he was just enjoying exploring - the corn snake we had until 2020 was always gearing up for a dash, but Otis was a pootler, he liked to wander around and smell things.

we got Otis in 2021 from the SSPCA and he was about 3 then. We think they'd misjudged his food requirements cause they told us he had one mouse a week, but that he'd scarf up any leftovers the other snakes didn't eat. and when he moved in with us he fell on food immediately (which was nice cause we'd just lost a baby corn snake who never learned how to eat at all) but then he'd stay activated and looking for more food instead of settling in to digest. also he did this.

literally tried to eat both me and Sam multiple times which was no fun for anyone involved. lots of blood and prising off of jaws with a credit card. anyway then we upped him to two large mice a week and he never showed the slightest signs of aggression or biting ever again. he was literally just starving.

he also grew literally another foot once he was getting enough food, which came as a bit of a surprise cause at 3 we figured he was mostly done growing, but he grew so much we had to get him a bigger viv because he was doing frustrated circles around the old one.

we took him to the vet like a few months or so into having him, because he stopped eating over the winter, which we didn't yet know was normal for him, and because he had a scar on his head when we got him which seemed to be spreading (in retrospect, probably just because he was growing so much that damaged skin was splitting).

First off, the vet loved him. Whenever Otis had to go to the vets, all the nurses would see him through the window and come in to fuss over him.

On that early visit, the vet used the phrase "startlingly healthy" - he was on the biggest end of male kingsnakes and he was basically pure muscle. We called him our long himbo because he was both exceptionally fit, super sweet-natured, and kinda dumb.

I remember one time we gave him a mouse, he leapt on it instantly then dropped it, and he looked back at us in confusion with his tongue flickering like "mOuSe? sMeLl MoUsE? wHeRe MoUsE?????" and we were like buddy. It's on your butt. I can see it. It's draped over you.

he loved to burrow and he loved to swim. Not so much recently, because he was prescribed daily baths to help with his gut issues and he came to find it quite stressful, but in the past if we put him in a bath he'd settle in happily and swim laps around the box. he spent a good chunk of his life buried in between the paper layers in his viv (occasionally terrifying, he was good at hiding) but he refused to stay in pockets, because when he was out and about he wanted to keep an eye on everything.

he was so chill. He didn't mind being handled or kissed on his back, and he'd just do little bleps right on your face. He seemed almost impossible to scare, he'd just wander straight up to things. He did like an explore but he was also totally happy to sit in your lap or around your neck while you got on with things, and he'd often refuse to get back in his viv after. He really really liked people, and he liked us.

I'm really struggling at the moment because for years now when I'm sad and exhausted and out of energy I'd take him out and hold him in my lap and he'd help me feel more safe and present. And I would really like to be doing that again and I can't. I miss his weight and warmth and smoothness and the way he smelled and I miss talking to him. He was the goodest boy.

[acti-veg]

Hi! So uh, first of all I just wanted to say thank you for everything you do :) your book and your blog were some of the main things that even made me go vegan in the first place and I still learn a lot from your articles and posts!! You’re an amazing activist! Seeing people like you restores my faith in humanity tbh so thank you again so so much 💗

Anyway, I’m writing this ask because I’ve been struggling a lot emotionally as a vegan and I feel like I need advice from someone more experienced. I know you must spend a lot of time interacting with carnists when advocating for veganism. You’ve been doing this for years and still you’re going strong, so I just wonder how you manage to stay positive and not get too hurt in the process…

My problem is that whenever I see animal products or hear people spreading carnist views I react overly strongly. Often, I almost feel physical pain and can’t bring myself to interact with those people, it just hurts so much. Animal cruelty is everywhere and it feels like I can’t do anything about it. It’s heartbreaking, horrifying, depressing, and the worst part is how normalised it is.

It feels like there’s no escape. Somehow I can’t go outside without walking past a meat market, I can’t cook for myself without seeing a chicken corpse in the fridge, I can’t even play a video game without seeing images of animal products, etc... All these things are supposed to be normal, but they’re just so distressing to me. What makes me feel especially horrible is seeing/hearing anti-vegans spreading misinformation and such. I feel like if I see another post saying that "leather is good and sustainable actually" I’m going to explode. Is it just me or are other people that affected as well?

This would probably be easier to deal with if I had an ethical vegan friend or two who’d understand how I feel, but I don’t have any. I live with four carnists and even my partner apparently hates vegans (tried to tell them about my feelings and they got personally offended). And I know there’s a big community of vegan people out there, but there’s not nearly enough of us and I still feel so isolated and alone in my experiences.

I’m so sorry for venting. What I meant to ask is, do you ever feel like that? Is there anything that can help me not feel depressed whenever I see animal products? And thank you so much again for doing what you do. You are truly a wonderful person and I hope life treats you well <3

Thank you for the kind words, I’m so glad my blog had an impact on you!

I’m sorry to hear that you’ve been having such a bad time of it, I wish I could say that this isn’t common but I’ve had dozens of asks like this one. I firmly believe that going vegan is an extremely positive decision, but there are negatives that come from knowing what we know, and trying to exist in a society that is built on the backs of exploited animals. We have all felt like this, myself included.

Honestly, it sounds like you may consuming a bit too much vegan content, or possibly spending too much time engaging wifh and thinking about veganism specifically. Do you have any hobbies that help relax and distract you? Reading, gaming, exercise? I find all of these really helpful for clearing my head, especially exercise. There is such a thing as overexposure for vegans, and I’ve definitely been there myself.

What helps me most is trying to focus on the positive side of being vegan. Follow more positive content like sanctuaries, rescue centres, recipe creators, plant-based fitness blogs - whatever makes you happy. Avoid engaging with upsetting content, that includes graphic footage of any kind, anti-vegan content, debates and arguments. Create a little bubble for yourself that you can escape in, even if that means having seperate accounts for when you’re feeling this way and just want some escapism.

Try and visit an animal sanctuary, even if you have to make this a long term goal if there isn’t one that is accessible to you. I can’t describe how helpful this is an experience, to remember who this is all about and the fact that not all animals are suffering and unhappy. Seeing wild animals in their natural habitat can achieve the same thing.

For me, the best balm to this sort of feeling is activism. It is a big part of why I do this, it isn’t all altruistic. Turning some people of that negative towards something positive can help you feel much less helpless. See if there are any animal rights groups in your area (you’d also make vegan friends) but if not, try doing some of your own work, even if that is just online, signing/making petitions, blogging, letter writing - whatever you can do.

I’d also recommend this talk from Melanie Joy about activist burnout, which something close to what you’re experiencing, and she has some really helpful advice. That pain and disconnect from others will always be there, but I hope you manage to find some tools for coping with it that work for you, that is really all any of us can do. Take care of yourself, anon!

[mzannthropy]

Anne of the Island Book Club Chapter 28

A good one today!

Not only have I titled a post on my photography blog after this chapter, I have also quoted Anne and Marilla's exchange about June in the said blog post. It is indeed a pretty month, saying this as someone who has been doing photography for 13 years. Anyway.

Aunt Atossa croaks; as was to be expected, nobody shed any tears. Mrs Lynde says "The Elisha Wrights are thankful to be rid of her"--Mrs Elisha Wright was one of those women who visited Anne the day before her departure for Redmond to tell her college will be bad for her. I wonder if this was just a woman who turned bitter from having to have such an unpleasant person as Aunt Atossa? Mrs Lynde is a better person than me bc I would not have pitied Aunt Atossa. She chose to be like that, stupid name or not.

Davy is so funny. "Milty said his mother said Aunt Atossa would be sure to rise up in her coffin and say sarcastic things to the folks that come to see her buried. But Marilla said she didn’t." Did he believe it would happen? He'd certainly want to know.

I like people to have a little nonsense about them.

A good line from Anne! You've got have a bit of a nonsense, sometimes. Reminds of when Matthew told Anne to keep some romance, when she swore off it after her Elaine incident.

The fact that in her childhood Diana wanted to marry a bad man so that she could reform him makes me laugh in view of our current times' 'I can fix him' meme. I have zero opinion on Fred Wright owing to his zero characterisation. I don't think he ever had a line of dialogue... did he?

Now I'm coming to one of the lines in this book that have stayed with me ever since I read it for the first time.

I wouldn’t want to marry anybody who was wicked, but I think I’d like it if he could be wicked and wouldn’t.

You have to have a dark side so that nobody will mess with you. At the beginning of The Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantes is a young man, naive and idealistic and you want to shout at him: "watch out for the snakes!" So yes, one should marry a good man, but one who could be wicked if circumstances arose.

Reading this chapter today, it occurred to me that Avonleans would find out about Anne refusing Gilbert eventually. At Redmond, people had to know, bc everybody would have noticed their relationship had changed. (Especially after she met Roy and he started to hang out with Christine.) And this would easily travel to Avonlea. Sure, Gilbert has spent two summer holidays in a row in Kingsport, but he would have been home for Christmas of Junior year and everyone would have noticed he is not visiting Green Gables anymore. It doesn't take a Miss Marple to guess. I mean, the narrative tells us that Moody Spurgeon's mum spread the news that Anne had a new beau, so logically, Gilbert is not her 'beau' any longer.

Also like. Okay. Anne told Miss Lavendar that Gilbert wanted to be more than friends but she didn't. But Marilla had to hear it from the local gossip...? Was Anne afraid to confide in her adoptive mother?

Lol at Mrs Rachel losing her faith in the Providence.

I can't say I relate to Anne's feelings about Diana getting married (I've never really had close friends and I moved to another country at the age of 22 so didn't go through the seeing your peers get married and start families thing anyway) but like Anne, I can imagine it. I've been listening to the book The Let Them Theory by Mel Robbins, who also touches on friendships. It's completely normal for childhood friends drift apart once they reach young adulthood and it's nothing personal. It's just life. And it's really the theme of this instalment of Anne series.

Btw I find it interesting that Mrs Barry insisted that Diana won't marry until she is 21. We're not given the reason why, but it worked for Diana and Fred bc in that time, they got to know each other well.

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Accurate description LMAO. I need the AU's to kick in faster, my red solo cup is getting filled by my tears of frustration and agony.

Jasper's pause after the tool statement is absolutely sending me, if you ever wrote a SUF/SU fic I'd be so down, omg. Steven accepting her stalking presence is such a treat, also let him be a little snarky, haha! Meanwhile, Jasper is a towering, bright orange security team of one.

Truly don't know what they got going on either, I think I just don't know enough about Aunt May is really say, but they'd be vibing for sure! Peter as Mark's science tutor is everything to me omg, but Mark not figuring it out until Peter hints at him or blatantly says it would be also everything to me, personally. Especially since Peter's whole face is covered in comparison, while Mark's face/hair is exposed! Nolan as the mysterious, vaguely mentioned figure as a build up reveal would be so incredible omg. Peter sees him, Omni-Man in casual clothes just at his Aunt's house and is ready to lose his entire shit in a second, because who do you think you are threatening my Aunt--only for Mark, Debbie, Aunt May to be mad casual.

Nolan doesn't even have to put it together, he's just being dragged here, silently plotting about Spider-Man in some woman's house while Peter's right fucking there. Spidey sense going crazy and he's just gotta be normal LMAO. Mark doesn't know what's up with Peter but he's enjoying this family vacation. Debbie is catching up with her buddies in the city, thriving.

JJ, Art, Nolan would be legendary omg. The pure awkward hostility while Nolan does not have enough experience about relationships to really recognize it's even awkward in the first place. JJ really would clock Art's success as suspicious, because it is, Art being definite Spidey defender, especially for the costume is so neat omg, and may a little annoyed JJ's trying to investigate him, like, buddy, I make costumes for everybody, you don't wanna even try investigating into me, do you want villains threatening you? And JJ don't give a fuck he'll print the truth if it's there. Meanwhile Nolan's vibing. He has 2, count 'em, two whole friends. It's nice.

I can see the inciting incident just being Nolan has to maybe some kind of disaster that makes GoG/Cecil to fly up to where Spidey is, incidentally, and ends up flying into Spidey, with a face full of web (spidey senses are screaming and he's casaully ominious anyway). Nolan has been pissed every since. Spidey is ofc snarky and mouthy, and depending on how wide spread Guardians knowledge is, either is aware Nolan Will Kill People, which fuck you get outta my city then, or doesn't know if he's a hero, which the murderous vibes and screaming spidey sense are not helping. Cecil tells Nolan not to worry about it, just leave, and Nolan cannot let it go. How could some red-blue brat can catch him off guard during the week he was going to kill the Guardians? Diabolical. He refuses to accept this. Nolan keeps coming back, Debbie suggests if he likes the place so much why don't they take a little trip, and boom, Guardian-slaughter put on the back burner. Mark is happy with the family vacation!

S3 refusing to move stuff around and elevate a story that's like 20 years old (I think?) is so crazy to me. You have a chance to make it incredible and you refuse. Why????? WHY. TELL ME.

AND YES THE PUBLIC KNOWING WOULD BE SO FUN. Gimme Debbie changing the plot! The ramifications! Let her DO things to change the narrative oh my god!!!! The way the show is never consistent about if secret identities matter except for when it wants drama is so stupid. Nolan openly shows his face. Mark says his goddamn name. Hero names actually utilize their real names. Who cares!!!! Why don't you have Mark hostile about someone trying to step in or replace his Dad, while Debbie doesn't coddle him, 'cause yeah, if you wanna be here I'd step around that wound lol. It feels so weird about these type of things because like why do we have them? Why is this here? And if we have to have it for some fucking reason, why not add onto the characters, build on them, instead of throwing shit at the wall that makes no sense. Why is Debbie coddling some random stale man instead of being a menace? Let her have a drinking problem or SOMETHING. Let her be angry and petty and vindictive and RECKLESS. LET HER DO SOMETHING OH MY GOOOOOD.

It will never not be charming if villains were so desperate to appease the Graysons, while wounded people + heroes are giving Mark the side eye. Cecil is stressed out of his goddamn skull. Debbie doesn't give a flying fuck. She's off to travel with her new villain/ex-villain friends who understand her grief for fucking once and validate her frustrations. LET HER DO SOMETHINGGGGGG. PLEASEEEE. Let her and Mark even go in conflict, even! Have Debbie know/impact the order faster than Mark will ever know about them. Have the Rock Guy realize he has to deal with the shifting power dynamics in the city, and Debbie is something to watch out for. Mark, he can mess with, but Debbie is reckless, angry, and she has connections. Heck, we discussed Art having connections, maybe he's giving her even more contacts just for the fun of it, he makes costumes for heroes and villains, he's not really concerned with rigid morality here, perhaps more entertainment.

Mark is having a morality crisis in the background, because that's his Mom and Oliver wants to be a crime boss like Debbie, and he wants to say that's wrong but it's really not hurting anybody, and in fact it's really beneficial since he gets tips to take down villains. Cecil is having an aneurysms. Please, having Oliver accepting oh, just keep the people I care about safe is so fucking funny, and I'm screaming because it's probably a lesson he can absorb easier than Mark screaming about how murder is wrong. Debbie has a point and Mark cannot articulate why this feels wrong and just kinda spirals.

I NEVER STOP THINKING ABOUT THAT EITHER. HE DIDN'T APOLOGIZE. He has done some nonstop diabolical shit and hasn't even said the most basic thing in the world, like bro, you snatched your kid up, the one you said you would replace, to use him to fix you a mess you made and couldn't even say sorry. You guilt trip him, while being worshiped like a fucking god, insert yourself as a immortal king for a people's generations, and have a whole new kid. LIKE HELLO? WE DO NOT SPEAK ABOUT HOW FUCKING WILD THAT IS??? Oliver should hate Nolan's fucking guts.

No for real, it's so annoying because he could have been SO interesting and they refused. WHY. WHY. WHY. WHY. WHY. Bashing my head into a wall. WHY.

Debbie is so truly suffering like why isn't she a person anymore? Why is she so chill? WHERE'S HER RAGE? Where's the woman that stood up against Nolan without a fear in the world? "Let her be a bit of a dick to Oliver. let her get more aggressively competitive at work and piss off her coworkers. let her have fucked up villain friends. let her still struggle w drinking." <- LITERALLY. GIVE IT TO HER. LET HER HAVE THIS. LIKE, PLEASEEEEEEEEEE. Let her hit someone with her car lol, I'd honestly love exploring that. Graysons and their kill counts lol. Have her villain friends or Cecil cover it up, tho I'd love the former more than the latter.

Let Debbie be INTERESTING AND HUMAN AGAINNNN. LET HER BE MESSY.

While I'm not too familiar with the DCU- your batfam meta posts are intiguing- so in transfering some of the broader strokes from them- I think you tackling a 'Mark isn't Nolan's biological son' fic would be fascinating. Sort of a step to the side of the 'what if Mark never got his powers' fic that sometimes pop up in the fandom

OOOOOO chewing on this currently, hm, the much a distinct flavor of exactly what you’re talking about, but the potential for more family drama depending on WHO knows. Does Mark know?? Is he waiting every day only to be crushed? Does he confused non-Debbie features with Nolan’s? I suppose I’m not the most enthusiastic about non-power AUs, but I think there’s something very fun to explore about Mark having to settle with, if he knows all his life, he will never have powers? I think the trajectory of his dreams will obviously shift, I can see him still having that distinct fatherly idolization, but perhaps embraces being useful to the GDA? Cecil’s number one intern—only intern—curtesy of nepotism, ha! There is something tickling me about Mark taking the Robin Route/Role for the Teen Team in terms of having no powers, just insane skills, BUT there’s something way more delicious about intern Mark when s1e01 happens and Mark tries snooping around to find out the truth about what happened to his Dad.

I wonder if, with Mark having a whole another father, if they’re more or less distant relationship, depending on WHEN Nolan entered Mark’s life? Like if Debbie met Nolan later for this, or just for fun, they dated once, separated (Mark being born during then), then they happened to stumble into each others lives again and Mark’s already been born, anywhere from tween to teenager so there’s a gap in how close they are. I feel like one important aspect of the whole Family Drama is how close they’re supposed to be, a functional, loving family turned upside down? So I wonder what more distance does. I wonder how Nolan copes when his family is entirely human and he can’t project onto Mark.

I love thinking about these, omg.

[arillusionist]

“happy inej

sad wylan

mentally disturbed matthias

super nina

drama jesper

big ol’ llama kaz”

-my 10 yr sister who has never read six of crows

[ducktracy]

there are a lot of evil people in the world and a lot of darkness in the world and so it’s very important for me to stress that now more than ever is the time to spread kindness and compassion. combat the evil by not only not partaking in it, but actively refuting it. destroy the notion that being compassionate or generous or kind to someone is uncool or embarrassing or even scary. be the change you want to see. start a chain reaction. positivity only breeds more positivity. do an act of kindness for someone so that that person who is too afraid to do it themselves can see you, realize that they’re not alone, and perhaps sheepishly follow your example. and then the next person who is too afraid but sees that person can do the same. when bad news comes out about bad people or horrible atrocities in the world it’s such an easy impulse to despair, and obviously it’s important to feel what you need to feel. grieve. be angry. be sorrowful. be empathetic. but dust off your pants and get up and be a part of a chain reaction that, no matter how small the scale, and spread compassion and love and care. all the reasons why you might not—“it’s hard! it’s scary! people will make fun of me! it’s useless because there’s too much evil!” are all grade A arguments as to why you should. you have no idea how many people you could inspire to do the same. even if it doesn’t get you anyway far, you can at least say you have the nobility of trying. please choose love and please choose life. you are worth loving and you are worth inspiring others to love

[writer-room]

Dragons Rising really is the best sequel series for diehard Lloyd enjoyers, cause, yes, we acknowledge that he has panic attacks, crappy mental health, and also he's the grandson of God, but you know what really gets me? Lloyd is tired.

He's plagued with migraines (the visions are also migraines don't @ me), he's bemoaning about never getting a good nights sleep, hes struggling so hard to be a good leader and clearly doesn't have all the answers, and he's just some 20yo who's been cursed with saving the world since he was younger than his own students.

That's the realest way Lloyd could've ever been written in a future-series. It's what he is. But he's not angry (usually), he's not telling everyone to deal with it themselves, and he's not giving up. I love when Lloyd has finally had enough, but the real, genuine Lloyd? He'd never stop caring. He cares so much it'd kill him. He's tired and by god does he refuse to quit. I love that kid. Please get him a warm blanket

[jamiethebeeart]

Lineart by @ovytia-art which was such a blast to color - I love the entire vibe of all of them hanging out together so much @green-with-envy-phandom-event