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kirammanswifey · 2 days ago

Note

Would you be down to write some reverse comfort with the Arcane characters?

Basically just make them go through one of the worst days of their lives then have the reader take care of them (I mostly just wanted to see Viktor in this scenario, but if you want to write for other characters too that'd be awesome)

Either way take your time and I hope you have a wonderful day ~☁️

arcane characters reverse comfort x fem reader

characters: viktor, jinx, vi, caitlyn, jayce, ekko, silco, mel and sevika.

writer's note: i'm always down for this kind of scenarios, make me feel like a teenage girl again. as you already know request are open ;)

Viktor

It has been an exhausting day in the lab. The experiments have failed time and again, each mistake weighing heavier on Viktor’s shoulders. You can see it in his eyes when he finally gives in, letting the tools fall with a long, heavy sigh. He leans against the workbench, his slender, hunched figure casting a shadow of defeat on the walls illuminated by the flickering equipment.

"This doesn't make sense..." he murmurs, as though the words are a burden he needs to release. His fingers drum frustratedly on the metallic surface, and you feel the despair in every tap. "I’ve made mistake after mistake... Maybe this was all a mistake from the start."

His words hit you, but it’s the tone of his voice that wounds you more, filled with a self-criticism that is painfully familiar but no less difficult to hear. You know how much his work matters to him, how much of himself he has poured into these projects. And you know this failure consumes him more than he’s willing to admit. You can't just stand by and watch him spiral.

"Viktor," you say softly, stepping closer and placing a firm yet comforting hand on his arm. "You’re a genius, and even geniuses have tough days. Today was one of those days, but it doesn’t define who you are or what you do."

At first, he doesn’t respond. His gaze is lost, searching for answers in the shadows that stretch across the lab. But then his grey eyes meet yours, filled with doubt and exhaustion. "How can you be so sure? Every day without progress... I feel like I’m wasting time, like I’m failing everyone, even myself."

Your heart tightens at his words. You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers gently, feeling the coolness of his skin against yours. "Because I know you, Viktor. I’ve seen your dedication, your passion. Every mistake, every small setback is part of the process. You don't have to carry this weight alone. I’m here to help you shoulder it."

The silence that follows is thick, but instead of uncomfortable, it’s a space where words aren’t necessary. Slowly, you see his posture relax, the tension in his shoulders beginning to ease. Without letting go of his hand, you step even closer, sensing the fragility of the moment.

"Let’s step outside for a bit," you whisper, "You need to clear your mind, get some fresh air. You don’t have to do it all today, not tonight."

He looks at you again, with a mix of gratitude and weariness, and finally nods. "Alright," he says softly, as if it’s hard for him to admit he needs the break.

You walk together to the exit, your fingers still entwined with his. The night air is a balm, cool and light, carrying away some of the day's heaviness. You walk in silence through the almost deserted streets, the distant hum of the city a constant murmur.

"Thank you," he finally whispers, breaking the silence with a voice soft, almost breaking. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

You stop, turning to face him. "You don’t have to know, because I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, through the good and the bad days. You don’t have to bear this burden alone."

He tilts his head, and for a moment it seems like he’s about to say more, but instead, he simply squeezes your hand tighter, a silent gesture that speaks volumes.

"Come here," you say, leading him to a nearby bench. You sit beside him, and for the first time all night, you see him take a deep breath, as if the fresh air could cleanse not just his lungs but also his mind and soul.

Viktor rests his head on your shoulder, allowing himself to close his eyes and savor the moment. You kiss his head and gently stroke his hair, cherishing these rare moments, knowing how precious they are when they happen.

"Today was a bad day," he finally says, his voice tinged with a quiet melancholy. "But, for some reason, it doesn’t feel as overwhelming with… with you here."

You smile softly, feeling warmth spread from his acceptance, from his openness. "I’ll always be here to remind you that even the worst days come to an end. And that you are stronger than you think."

He looks at you, and for an instant, the world seems to stop. His gaze, filled with gratitude and something deeper, envelops you. Before you can say anything more, you feel him leaning towards you, and in that moment, everything falls into place. His lips brush against yours with a tenderness that disarms you, a kiss soft yet laden with unspoken emotions.

When you part, just inches away, his eyes remain closed as if he wants to hold onto the moment a little longer. "Thank you," he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper.

You cradle his face in your hands, gently caressing his cheeks. "There’s no need to thank me, my love."

Jinx

The day had been chaos, even by Jinx's standards. Everything had gone wrong: a botched attack, crumbling plans, and to top it all off, an unexpected explosion that almost trapped her in her own trap. Now, she sat in her lair, surrounded by the wreckage of her shattered inventions, her breath short and pulse racing. Her mind, always a whirlwind, now felt like a hurricane of uncontrollable voices and thoughts.

The laughter of her imaginary "friends" echoed in her head, growing louder, mocking her. "Failed again, Jinx. You always fail." She pressed her hands against her temples, squeezing as if she could silence the voices. But the laughter wouldn’t stop, and the crushing weight of loneliness and failure bore down on her.

You approached cautiously, knowing that Jinx in this state was a minefield. But you also knew you couldn’t leave her alone in her internal storm. "Jinx," you called softly, keeping your voice low and calm. "I’m here, sweets."

She didn’t respond at first, her body tense like a spring about to snap. But as you drew closer, her bright blue eyes, wide and wild, met yours with a mixture of anger and desperation. "Why? Why do you keep coming back? Don’t you get it? I don’t need anyone. I don’t want anyone to see me like this."

"I’m not here to judge you," you replied gently, sitting down next to her without encroaching too much on her space. "I’m here because I care. Because I know that sometimes, even the strongest people need a breather. And there’s nothing wrong with that."

She let out a bitter laugh, dripping with sarcasm. "A breather? You think I can just... breathe and everything will be fine? That’s not how my head works. It’s... broken. Everything’s broken."

Your eyes softened at the pain in her words, the self-loathing and anger intertwining dangerously. Without much thought, you reached out, lightly touching her hand, hoping the physical contact might ground her somehow.

"Maybe you can’t fix everything right away," you said softly, "but at least you’re not alone in this boat. I’m on board with you, and I’m not getting off, even if we hit an iceberg." You joked to lighten the tense atmosphere.

She looked at your hand on hers, and for a moment, it seemed like she would pull away. But instead, her trembling fingers closed around yours, with a grip that betrayed just how desperately she needed something—someone—to understand her.

"Why do you care?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’m a mess. Everything I touch... I ruin."

"Because you’re more than your mistakes," you said, squeezing her hand gently. "You’re strong, creative, and even if the world doesn’t understand you, I want to be here for you, to help you see that, even when everything gets tough."

Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice breaking as she murmured, "I don’t know if I can do it... but thank you... for not giving up on me."

You smiled softly, leaning closer to her. "I’ll never give up on you. And you know what? Let’s make a deal. Today was a bad day, but just for today, we’ll do whatever you want. How about we start with some ice cream?"

Her eyes lit up slightly, though there was still a shadow of doubt in her expression. "Ice cream? Really?"

"Serious business," you said, smiling a little more. "Pick your favorite flavor. We’ll go get it, and then we can do whatever you want. You can draw, launch rockets, blow things up—whatever makes you feel better."

"Can I dye your hair blue?" she asked, her tone teasing but her eyes hopeful.

"Anything but that," you corrected, not quite understanding her obsession with wanting to dye your hair.

She burst out laughing, pressing a hard kiss to your cheek. "Just kidding, hon. I love everything about you, even your boring dark hair."

"Hey!" you playfully patted her shoulder.

Suddenly, her smile faded again, uncertainty flickering in her gaze.

"But what if everything keeps going wrong?"

"Then I’ll be here to pick up the pieces with you," you said, gently stroking her hand. "You’re not alone, sweets. Not today, not any day."

She launched herself into your arms, hugging you tightly, her body trembling slightly. "Thank you..." she whispered against your neck, clinging to you as if you were her anchor in a storm. And in that moment, you knew the only thing that mattered was her feeling your presence, your unwavering support.

Vi’s mind was still trapped in the ring, replaying the final moments of that crucial fight. She had bet everything on it—her money, her pride, her reputation. Everything hung by a thread, and she had lost. The cheers had faded, leaving only the echo of failure resonating in her head.

She limped back to her hideout, her knuckles bloodied and her jaw clenched. Dropping onto the worn-out sofa, she let out a frustrated growl, covering her face with a hand as she tried to contain the fury and humiliation. She had risked so much, and now it was all gone.

The whispers of her defeat spread like wildfire. You knew Vi wasn’t one to admit defeat easily, nor to ask for help. So, with a heart full of concern, you went to find her, worried about her state.

The door creaked open as you stepped inside. "Vi," you called gently, finding her on the couch, shoulders tense and gaze fixed on the floor. You approached cautiously and sat on the floor in front of her, your chin resting on your hands as you looked at her intently. "Are you okay?"

"I don’t need your pity," she snapped, her voice sharp but laced with vulnerability. "I’m fine. Just... need a moment."

"Vi," you said softly, "it’s just one loss. You’re incredible in the ring, babe, but you can’t expect to win every time. Besides, we learn more from our mistakes than from our victories. It’s okay."

"No, it’s not okay," she shot back, finally lifting her head to meet your gaze, her blue eyes filled with frustration. "I bet everything on that fight. Everything. And now I have nothing."

"That’s why I’m here," you responded, sitting beside her and gently taking her bloodied hand in yours, inspecting it with care. "You don’t have to carry this alone. Let me help you."

"I don’t want your help," she protested, trying to pull her hand away, but you held on firmly. "I don’t need saving. I can handle this."

"Vi, don’t be stubborn," you chided, your voice firm yet warm. "I care about you, and I’m not going to stand by while you drown over something we can fix together."

Her gaze softened, a mix of wounded pride and unspoken gratitude in her eyes. "I can’t take your money," she muttered, looking down again. "It’s not fair to you."

"Babe, if the roles were reversed, I know you’d do the same for me," you reminded her. "This isn’t about fairness or debt. It’s about caring for someone I love."

The last word hung in the air, making Vi look up again. "You... love me?" she whispered, as if it was something she hadn’t allowed herself to hear before.

"Love you? I’m crazy about you, woman!" you admitted with a chuckle, gently squeezing her hand. "And because of that, I’m going to help you through this. Take the money, just this once. It’s not weakness to accept help, Vi. It’s strength to know when you need someone."

She let out a deep sigh, her body relaxing slightly as the tension began to ease. "Alright," she murmured finally, her voice barely a whisper. "I’ll take your help... just this once."

"That’s all I needed to hear," you said, smiling softly as you caressed her hand. "We’ll get through this, together."

Vi looked at you, and for the first time that night, a faint smile curved her lips. "Thank you," she said, leaning toward you. Her hand suddenly slid to your ass, giving it a playful squeeze.

You looked at her, a mix of confusion and amusement on your face. She just shrugged, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What? It’s my way of saying thanks," Vi defended, following it up with a loud slap.

Laughing, you climbed onto her lap, leaning in close to her mouth, "Well, if I’d known your gratitude was this charming, I’d hope for favors more often."

Vi leaned in and kissed you, a tender kiss that spoke of gratitude and something deeper, needing no words. "I love you," she murmured against your lips.

"And I love you," you whispered, your lips still brushing hers.

Caitlyn

Caitlyn's office was silent, the only sound breaking the stillness was the soft scratch of her pencil against paper as she reviewed the reports that had come in. It had been a particularly difficult day for her. The weight of the decisions she'd had to make hung heavily on her shoulders, and her mind couldn't stop replaying the latest case she had been handling. Even though she tried to maintain her composure, you knew Caitlyn wasn't invincible.

You approached cautiously, gently tapping on the door before stepping inside. "Cait," you called softly, seeing her immersed in her work, her eyes glued to the desk, but her rigid posture betrayed her exhaustion.

She looked up and forced a smile. "Don’t worry, everything’s under control," she said, her voice slightly tenser than usual.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched her with concern. "I know you're working hard, Cait, but this isn’t just about work, is it?"

She didn’t respond immediately, her eyes narrowing as if fighting herself not to admit what was clearly troubling her. "It’s nothing. Just... tough cases. Nothing you need to worry about."

You knew her too well. Something wasn’t right. Caitlyn always maintained her facade of strength, never showing vulnerability, but you knew even she had limits. You decided to step closer, gently removing the papers from her hands and sitting on her desk, right in front of her, catching her off guard. Her hands instinctively found your thighs, her fingers pressing into your skin as a silent sign of her pent-up stress.

"You're not doing this alone tonight, Cait," you told her firmly. "I know you feel the pressure, but you don’t have to carry it all by yourself."

She tried to smile, but the gesture only highlighted her fatigue. "I can't afford to show weakness. Everyone expects me to have the answers."

"That’s precisely what makes you human," you replied softly, cradling her face and appreciating her delicate features. "The burden of leadership, the tough decisions... it can’t all rest on you. If you need a break, you’ll take one. If you need to talk, I’m here."

Caitlyn remained silent, her gaze now locked onto yours, as if considering your words for the first time. You could see her defenses slowly crumbling, her breathing easing into a calmer rhythm. "Sometimes I feel like no one understands... how hard it is to keep everything together, always being the one expected to know what to do."

"I understand," you said, gently holding the hand that gripped your thigh. "And you don’t always have to have all the answers, Cait. It’s okay to feel lost. You can lean on me for these things and anything else."

She didn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you, and for once, her face displayed a vulnerability she rarely showed. Finally, she sighed, letting the tension in her face melt away.

"I know," she murmured, almost as a confession. "Sometimes it’s just hard not to feel like a burden."

"You’re never a burden to me," you assured her, leaning in and wrapping your arms around her, your fingers tenderly running through her hair. She responded with a soft sigh of relief. "You’re the strongest person I know, Cait. And that strength doesn’t make you invulnerable. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You carry so much responsibility and expectation, and you handle it as best you can. You can share that with me too, love. I’m not in your life just to enjoy your company and admire your beautiful face."

With an intense gaze, Caitlyn gently squeezed your hand, displaying a rare tenderness. "Thank you," she whispered, her tone much softer than usual. "Thank you for this. For always being there when I need it. For knowing what I need when I don’t even know myself."

You moved a little closer and, without thinking, kissed her forehead, a warm and comforting gesture. "I’ll always be here, Cait. You don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

She closed her eyes for a moment, allowing herself to rest in your presence. And although the day's worries wouldn't vanish immediately, there was something about that small gesture, that silent connection between you two, that made her feel less alone. She knew that, no matter what, she would always have a refuge in you.

Jayce

The door creaked open, and instantly, the tension that Jayce carried with him filled the room like an unwelcome guest. He stood in the doorway, his figure worn down as if each step of his day had chipped away at his strength. His face was a canvas of frustration and exhaustion, the lines of weariness on his forehead barely hidden by his tousled hair. The warm light of home contrasted sharply with the cold night air, but even the comforting ambiance seemed powerless against the heavy burden he bore.

Without a word, you moved towards him, your presence a sanctuary in the storm he was weathering. You gently took his cold hands in yours and led him to the couch, where he sank down with a deep, weary sigh. The weight of the day clung to him, a cloak of responsibility and fatigue. He barely acknowledged you as you spoke.

"Rough day?" Your voice was gentle, laced with concern.

Jayce exhaled sharply, his exhaustion evident as he turned his head to you. "More than you can imagine." His tone was rough, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Viktor and I... the experiment in the lab was a disaster. Then, the Council meeting... a complete mess. I’m not even sure how I made it back here tonight." His voice cracked for a moment, followed by a bitter laugh. "And tomorrow? I have to give that damned speech to the entire city. I haven’t even started writing it."

The air felt thick, laden with everything he couldn't put into words. You squeezed his hand, holding it with a tenderness that cut through the fog of his mind. "Breathe, Jayce. You don’t have to solve everything at once. One step at a time."

Instinctively, you sat behind him, guiding him until his back rested against your chest. You began to massage his shoulders, feeling the tension slowly seep from his muscles. Each movement of your fingers seemed to ease his burdens, though his sighs suggested the thoughts still swirled in his mind.

"I’ll help you with the speech," you offered softly. "We’ll write it together. You don’t have to face it all alone."

Jayce closed his eyes briefly, as if clinging to your words to prevent drowning in his thoughts. "But... it all depends on me. If I screw this up, the consequences are massive. I can’t afford to fail." His voice broke, and he sat up abruptly, anxiety gripping him once more.

"It’s just a speech, Jayce. It doesn’t define you." You wrapped your arms around his torso, holding him from behind. "What matters most to me is that it doesn’t destroy you. The city needs you, yes. But you need yourself too."

A long sigh escaped his chest, a release of some of the weight he'd been carrying. "How do you stay so calm through all of this? How do you have the patience to listen to my problems over and over?" His tone softened, a realization of what your presence meant to him.

"Because I love you, you big lug. And because I respect you," you said without hesitation. "Now... first things first. Dinner. I made your favorite." You whispered in his ear, the warmth of your embrace surrounding him, offering a sliver of peace. "Then, I’ll draw you a bath. You need to relax, to stop thinking about everything for a while. We’ll have dinner together, and afterward, we’ll stay up as long as you need. I’ll help with the speech. And if you need to rehearse all night, we will. The important thing is you’re not facing it alone. I’m here, Jayce, because I know how much this means to you."

Jayce let the silence hang for a moment, absorbing your words, your support the anchor he desperately needed. Slowly, he turned to look at you, his face finally showing signs of easing. "I don’t deserve you," he murmured, a small pout forming on his lips.

"Don’t be ridiculous. You’re my spoiled giant baby," you teased with a soft laugh, cupping his face with care.

Jayce chuckled, a low, grateful sound that was music to your ears, and you hugged him tighter, feeling the anxiety that had gripped him start to dissipate. "Can we stay like this a little longer?" he asked quietly, his tone vulnerable, more human than ever.

"Of course, love," you whispered. "There’s no rush tonight."

And there, between tender laughs and promises of unwavering support, time seemed to pause. In that moment, there was only the two of you, the warmth of home, and the certainty that, no matter what the next day brought, you would face it together.

Ekko

The sound of gears grinding and tools sparking filled Ekko's workshop, a familiar symphony that usually brought him a sense of calm. But today, the rhythm was frantic, almost as if he believed that focusing on the intricate mechanical details could help him outrun the weight pressing down on his heart. It wasn’t working.

"Ekko, what’s wrong?" Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet it cut through the tension hanging thick in the air. You could sense something was off, not just from the hurried way he moved but from the pallor that had taken over his face in the past few hours.

He didn’t answer right away. His fingers continued their precise dance over the wires and components, but there was a distant look in his eyes, a clear sign that his mind was far from the task at hand. Finally, he looked up, and though he tried to hide it, you could see the frustration and pain etched into his features.

"Things are... out of control," he admitted, his voice heavy. "The people of Zaun keep dying, and we can’t do anything about it. The illnesses are spreading, the air is becoming unbreathable, and the solutions... they seem further away than ever. How am I supposed to lead them when I have nothing to offer?"

His question lingered in the air, a cry of desperation in the stillness. Ekko had borne the weight of leading the Firelights since their inception. It was his strength, his refuge, yet also his greatest burden. Every day, he witnessed more of his people falling victim to the oppression and the harsh realities of Zaun, the toxic air swallowing those he cared about, and the seeming futility of their efforts gnawed at his resolve. What could one do when everything seemed stacked against them?

"Ekko," you approached him, gently taking his hands in yours. "Listen to me. I know what you're thinking. I know it feels like everything is collapsing, like there’s no way out. But you're not alone in this. You have the Firelights, and you have me. Caitlyn Kiramman might be able to help with this problem."

Ekko raised an eyebrow, confused. He knew Caitlyn, as an Enforcer, symbolized the oppressive system that had kept Zaun in misery, but he also knew you didn’t speak lightly. You must have had a plan.

"I don’t trust Piltover," Ekko muttered, his tone firm. "Or their damn Enforcers. How am I supposed to ask someone like Caitlyn for help? After everything they’ve done to us?"

"I know," you said, gently stroking his hands to calm him, "but hear me out. You're not just asking Caitlyn for help. You’re asking the person who owes me a few favors. Trust me. I think we can secure some supplies, maybe some of the medicines we need, at least to keep us going for a while. Something to help the Firelights keep fighting. Don’t see it as surrendering, Ekko; it’s a step towards giving us a real chance to make our voices heard."

For a moment, Ekko stared at the ground, lost in thought. It was clear he struggled to trust anyone outside his circle, especially someone like Caitlyn, who embodied Piltover’s oppressive power. But your words resonated with him, and for the first time that day, something inside him eased slightly.

"Maybe you’re right," he finally said, his voice low, as if only partially convinced. "But this... it can’t just be words. We need to do something real, something that actually makes a difference."

"We will," you assured him with a soft smile, trying to instill a bit of hope. "Together, step by step. Let’s start by talking to Caitlyn and see what we can secure. I don’t know how, but I believe we’ll make it happen."

Ekko looked at you, and for a moment, everything in his expression changed. The usual anger gave way to a mixture of gratitude and, perhaps, a hint of relief. He was exhausted, but the idea that not everything was lost gave him a tiny spark of hope.

"Thank you, babe," he murmured, his voice softer than before. "I don’t know how you do it. You always know what to say."

"That’s because I’ve learned how to deal with your stubborn, grumpy self," you said with a light laugh. "Now, how about we take a stroll through the city? Maybe a few hours of disconnecting will help."

A trace of a smile appeared on his face, though still tinged with fatigue. "What? Are you planning to make me forget all this by tagging the walls with graffiti?"

"Exactly," you responded with a mischievous grin. "That way, at least for a while, we can forget the world and do whatever we want."

Ekko finally gave in, his soft laugh filling the air as he grabbed his hoverboard. "You know, that sounds like a great idea. Let’s go before I change my mind."

And as you wandered the streets of Zaun, the weight on his shoulders didn’t entirely vanish, but for a while, Ekko could relax, paint his frustrations on the walls, and most importantly, remember that he wasn’t alone. Sometimes, all it took was stepping back and breathing, even if just for a moment.

Silco

The air in Silco's office was heavy, thick with the unmistakable scent of Zaun: metal, sweat, and burnt chemicals. Yet beyond those familiar odors, the room was saturated with the tension of recent events. The sting of failure clung to him, unsettling the usually composed mastermind. His meticulously laid plans had unraveled, and while his followers proclaimed loyalty, cracks in their devotion were becoming apparent. Zaun teetered on the brink of internal rebellion. The Firelights, the Enforcers, even the streets themselves seemed to be slipping through his fingers.

But what truly unsettled him, what gnawed at his very core, was the ever-present specter of betrayal, the fear of losing those who mattered most. In these moments, when chaos felt imminent, you chose to enter.

Silco stood with his back to you, staring out at the city’s dim lights through the window. You could sense the disquiet within him. His silhouette was somber, almost ghostly, with one hand resting on the glass. He seemed like a man who had lost faith in everything around him. Without hesitation, you approached him with a calmness that contrasted starkly with the storm raging within him.

"Silco," you began, your voice gentle but resolute. You refused to let his fragility consume him, not now. "We've faced this before. You don’t have to bear it all alone."

At first, he remained silent. The tension in his frame was palpable, and you could tell he was fighting a battle he wasn’t ready to share. Yet, you knew that struggle all too well. Beneath his layers of hatred and ambition lay a man as broken and vulnerable as any other.

Finally, he turned toward you, his eyes, usually burning with disdain, now dulled. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice low, roughened by a restrained fury. "This isn’t like before. It’s not just about winning anymore. It’s about maintaining control, about not losing everything. If I fail now, all we’ve built will be for nothing. What’s looming isn’t just a challenge—it’s war, and I need to be ready."

You stepped closer, studying the exhaustion etched into his face. His words were a glimpse into the turmoil that consumed him. "You will be ready. We will be ready. But isolating yourself in this downward spiral won’t help."

Silco’s gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, vulnerability surfaced. He appeared more human, less the monster Zaun feared. But his pride fought to keep that part of him hidden.

"I don’t need your pity," he said, though his words lacked conviction, a feeble defense against the truth you were unveiling. "Spare me the empty reassurances."

"They’re not empty," you replied, your voice steady. "I know what you’re feeling. This isn’t just about controlling Zaun. This is about you."

A heavy silence followed, thick with unspoken truths. Silco’s brow furrowed, not in anger but in contemplation. "It’s a war I can’t win. The city hates me, even my own daughter—"

"Don’t speak of her as if you’re some monster," you interrupted gently but firmly. "Jinx needs you, and you need her. This war isn’t just against Piltover, Silco. It’s against yourself. And if you keep fighting it alone, you will lose."

The room was still, the weight of your words settling in the air. Silco’s expression softened, touched by a realization he couldn’t deny. He wasn’t accustomed to being seen so clearly, to having his inner battles laid bare.

You took another step forward and, without allowing him time to withdraw, you took his hand. "You don’t have to do this alone," you whispered. "Not now, not ever."

For a brief moment, conflict flickered across his features, but then it happened—he relented. It wasn’t the surrender of a defeated man but of someone willing to trust, if only for a moment, that there was more to life than his solitary fight.

"I don’t know why you persist in keeping me upright," he murmured, his voice softer, laced with weariness. "Sometimes… sometimes it feels like too much."

"It’s not," you assured him without hesitation. "We’ll face it together. I won’t let you fall."

Silco said nothing more, but he didn’t pull away as you held his hand more firmly, a silent acceptance of your comfort. And for the first time in a long while, the cold steel of his demeanor cracked, if only for a fleeting second.

Mel

Mel's balcony was as sleek and cold, a testament to her meticulous nature. The soft glow of lanterns cast a gentle light over the cityscape, illuminating the endless sea of Piltover's lights below. Yet, amidst the serenity of the night, an unseen storm brewed within her. Tonight, her mind wasn't consumed with political maneuvers or strategic plans. Something far deeper gnawed at her: the weight of her ambitions had begun to manifest in ways she hadn't anticipated, threatening to fracture the carefully constructed facade of her life.

She stood by the railing, gazing out at the city that never slept, as if the twinkling lights could somehow chase away the growing void in her heart. You could see it—the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers gripped the railing a little too tightly. She was a picture of composed authority, yet the subtle cracks in her armor betrayed the turmoil within.

"Mel..." Your voice, soft yet firm, broke the silence. You approached from behind, your footsteps light but deliberate. You didn't need to be loud; she had always been attuned to your presence, as if you existed in a part of her consciousness she couldn't ignore.

Mel turned slowly, her face a mask of unyielding calm, but her eyes... her eyes told a different story. They held a flicker of vulnerability, a silent plea she wasn't ready to voice. "What is it?" Her voice was cool, almost detached, but you knew better. The detachment was a shield, one she had crafted over years of political warfare.

"What’s wrong?" you asked again, your gaze unwavering as you closed the distance between you. You could sense her struggle, her reluctance to admit that something was amiss. "I can see it, Mel. You're not okay."

She sighed—a sound so heavy it seemed to carry the weight of the city. It wasn't frustration; it was the exhaustion of someone who had carried too much for too long. "It’s Piltover. My role in the Council... I can't keep up with it all," she admitted, her words slow, measured, as if each one was a reluctant confession. "I’ve been playing this game for so long, but the pieces are moving in directions I can’t control. And..."

Her voice faltered, and she didn't need to continue. You understood. This wasn't about Piltover alone. It was about her, about the toll her ambitions had taken on her soul. Here, on this balcony, she wasn't the indomitable Mel Medarda. She was a woman, weary and yearning for something she couldn't quite name.

"Mel, not everything needs to be under control. Not everything needs to be perfect," you said gently, stepping closer. "You can handle what’s happening in Piltover, but you don’t have to carry it all on your own."

Her eyes darted away, as if looking at you would make her break. She was so used to being the one in control, to bearing the burdens without complaint. "And if I fail... what then? What’s left after all of this? I've given everything to Piltover… everything."

Her voice trembled with a sadness that cut through you. Despite her steely exterior, you knew there was a part of her that longed for something more—connection, peace, perhaps even love. But the world she had built around herself left little room for such indulgences.

"If you fail, Mel, you’ll have the chance to start over. You don’t have to keep fighting for something that's slipping through your fingers," you said, your voice steady as you reached for her. "Sometimes, letting go of what we fear losing the most is what sets us free."

Mel's eyes met yours, and in them, you saw a vulnerability she rarely showed. She wasn’t used to conversations like this, to empathy. But in your gaze, she found something she hadn’t seen in a long time: safety, support, and perhaps... the promise of something different. Something better.

"I know it’s not easy," you continued, your hand gently brushing her arm. "But you don’t have to carry the weight of Piltover alone. You have people who respect you, who admire you. There are other ways to move forward without losing yourself in the process."

The silence that followed was thick, but not oppressive. It was as if the night itself was holding its breath, waiting for her response. For a moment, Mel said nothing. Then, her lips, always so carefully set in lines of authority, softened. "And if I fail… what happens to you?"

"You won’t fail," you said with a conviction that only you could have. "But even if you did, I’d be right here, helping you rebuild. Because what really matters isn’t the power or the control. What really matters is you, Mel."

For a second, she looked at you as if seeing you for the first time. The iron-willed woman everyone knew, the strategist, the leader, was now gazing at you with a newfound sense of recognition. And in that moment, she allowed herself a rare indulgence: she let her guard down.

"Maybe... maybe it’s not always about winning," she murmured, more to herself than to you. "Maybe you're right."

You smiled softly, knowing that Mel had just taken a step towards something beyond ambition—towards her humanity.

Sevika

The night had fallen with an oppressive stillness, but Sevika couldn’t find peace. The hours had dragged her into a whirlwind of stress and frustration. Each minute felt heavier than the last, and the air around her seemed thick, as if the city itself was pressing down on her chest. The decisions she had to make, the moves she had to plan, the constant need to watch over and protect her people… all of it had left her exhausted. But what weighed her down the most was the lack of control over her own life.

The shadows of the streets seemed to stretch out, enveloping her with an invisible pressure. Silco, as if things weren’t bad enough, was more erratic than ever, his paranoia brushing the edges of madness. To top it off, Jinx had played one of her twisted jokes: locking her in a room with a bomb that looked ready to explode. Sevika had been on the brink of death, only to discover that the bomb was a cruel joke, the kind only Jinx could conjure. If she had the time, she would have made sure the girl paid for it. She despised feeling vulnerable. But there was more. She had to deal with some of Silco’s men, and her day culminated with a direct punch to the face, leaving a visible mark on her otherwise stoic features.

On any other day, Sevika might have sought solace or at least retreated into the quiet of solitude, but today was different. No matter what she did, the sense of losing control gnawed at her insides. She needed to see you. She needed your presence, your calm way of looking at her and making her feel that everything, even if just for a while, would be okay.

Finally, the door creaked open. The sound of your footsteps was a balm to her weary spirit, and Sevika lifted her gaze. The damp night air lent a melancholic intensity to her eyes, now etched with fatigue and disdain. Though she tried to maintain her tough exterior, you quickly noticed the bruise marking her face.

“What happened?” Your voice, soft yet filled with concern, echoed in the room. Sevika tried to muster a smile, but it was futile.

“Just another day, you know?” she rasped, moving to lean against the table. She wasn’t about to crumble in front of you, but the exasperation in her tone was unmistakable. “Silco’s paranoid as ever. Jinx pulled one of her idiotic pranks… locked me in a room with a fake bomb about to explode. I thought I’d die there, amidst confetti and laughter. And if that wasn’t enough, one of Silco’s guys managed to land a punch on me.”

Your gaze, laced with worry and tenderness, softened instantly. You stepped forward, cupping her face gently, trying to ease the storm swirling inside her. Sevika stood still, unresponsive at first, but the hard lines of her face began to relax, even if only slightly.

“Why didn’t you call me?” you asked, your eyes never leaving hers, your words carrying a silent concern. You knew she hated appearing weak, but it didn’t matter; you would never see her that way. Sevika closed her eyes for a moment, letting out a long sigh.

“You know I don’t like to worry you.” Her tone was sharp, but softer than before. She could feel how your warmth affected her in ways she wasn’t ready to admit, but needed more than she was willing to acknowledge.

Without missing a beat, you acted. With a small smile, you stepped back a little, creating some space to prepare something that might bring her some comfort.

“Tonight, I’m making something special for my strong and sexy warrior,” you said, a mix of tenderness and teasing in your voice. “It’s not much, but I know you’ll like it.” You headed to the kitchen, and instead of a typical meal, you decided on something you knew would make Sevika smile: a homemade chocolate cupcake, with a hint of vanilla and a soft cream topping. While the sweet treat took shape, you thought about how this small gesture might lighten the night. The smell of freshly baked chocolate began to fill the air.

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress a slight smile. “A cupcake?” she asked, almost playfully, though her voice held a softness rarely heard. “Am I a child needing comfort now?”

“Maybe,” you replied, smiling as you set the table. “Sometimes we all need something simple and sweet.” You playfully tapped her nose.

With the cupcake served and a cup of aromatic tea, the two of you sat together, letting the calm settle for a moment. As she savored the cupcake, your fingers brushed hers gently, as if that simple touch could convey something deeper. Sevika’s gaze, usually so hard and closed off, softened as it met yours.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost with a humility that was unlike her. “I needed this more than I thought.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you said with a gentle smile, intertwining your fingers with hers.

And in that moment, it didn’t matter what was happening in the outside world. For an instant, everything else faded away. Only that small space between the two of you existed, where love and understanding felt like the answer to all the burdens Sevika carried within.

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osokasstuff · 3 days ago

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[ID: 1 screenshot in initial post and 3 screenshots in reblog.

initial post: tweet of Tiberius @ecomarxi. tweet is commenting on reddit post: "i work in pediatric neurology. we have UHC deny seizure medications that we can definitely tell will benefit patients based on their EEG results because it's not UHC's preferred medication. patient has to fail the preferred medication first. and by fail, this means that patient has to have a shitload of seizures. so these kids have to seize their fucking brains out to get a medication that we know will control their seizures. fuck health insurance companies." tweet comments: "when i say capitalists actively harm people for profits i mean it in the most literal sense."

replies in reblog:

from @/le-chaire-de-lune: #us politics #health insurance #not their preferred medication is one of the worst parts #like let's make you suffer for no goddamm reason before we give you what we know works

from @/theconcealedweapon: even from purely a financial perspective, it's much more efficient to just give them what they need. making them take another medication before they take one that's proven to work is not only cruel, but it's a total fucking waste of time and resources. there are a lot of complaints about how universal healthcare or other socialist policies would be "inefficient." but here we have clear evidence of capitalists intentionally being inefficient.

from @/astralikacastle: ah, but see, from a purely distant and "logical" standpoint, if they pay for the cheaper medicine and it works, then that's saving them money forever! never mind that it has literally never shown to work and that you always save money by listening to doctors and there's never a cost analysis of whether something not working will cause other costs to show up like, say, a kid having another fucking seizure causes them to need more medicine, or emergency treatments, or get a whole new set of problems that cause new forevercosts. because they're not people to UHC. doctors are not in the business of saving you money, and sick people are not meant to be sympathized with. if the cheaper medicine doesn't work that's (italics) their (end italics) problem. it's cheaper, so it'll save us money, so we're doing it that way.

#also while we're here: what's a long run? #here's the sheet with this quarter's profits #maximize that #then you'll maximize the profits on next quarter's sheet /end ID].

i've heard that they delay treatment/aids/whatever for people, especially terminally ill, so these people die, and they don't have to cover it.

#us healthcare #united healthcare

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ultimate-marysue · 3 days ago

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I think a really funny part of Jayroy we don't really talk about is the Dick Grayson of it all. I don't mean as in "How does Dick react to it", I mean as in "we're both really close to Dick but have completely different ideas of who he is".

Roy is Dick's friend. He's been Dick's friend for so long it's ridiculous. They've grown up together, they've seen each other at their worst, at their most awkward phases. They've supported and teased each other through relationships, family drama, tough times and near death experiences. Roy may not be the single closest most knowledgeable person on the subject of Dick Grayson...but he comes pretty close to it.

Not only that but there's no worship involved. Roy knows how amazing Dick is, of course, but even when he's feeling self deprecating he still considers himself his peer. Dick treats him as his equal and he's also acted as a leader for the Titans. He's in a position to understand intimately just how absolutely mundane Dick is for all his greatness. Roy didn't have front row seats to the creation of the legend Nightwing is today, he was behind the curtains staring at the real human behind it and helping him with the props.

Jason on the other hand... Let's start by saying he's not as starstruck as Tim or even Damian. That being said, he's also obsessed with his older brother. It's a very complicated mess of feelings that stems from pure adoration but is also tainted with jealousy and disappointment. Dick is the Golden Child, perfect in every way that matters and yet unable to help him. Sometimes Jason's Hero Worship and desire for a cool older brother take over, sometimes he resents him for setting such an impossible standard. Dick cares for him and yet he makes him feel lesser than just by existing. He's so morally perfect and effortless in his goodness, and Jason is just a monster next to him.

So I just think it would be hilarious for Jason to just, monologue about his complex feelings on Dick and how he doesn't know how to feel about it, all the while Roy's like "Who!?!?? Dick?!?! The guy that threatened to kill himself after one (1) awful date with Supergirl???? That guy?!?!?"

#jayroy #jason todd #roy harper #dick grayson

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fawnsflowerbed · 2 days ago

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♡ It's The Most Wonderful Time-out! ♡

A/N: is this late? 100% but it's time for some CHRISTMAS HYBRID TIMEEEEE!!! A HUGE thank you for the patience from my amazing sunshine anon for this commission <3 Personally I think the title is hilarious, do- do you get it- the most wonderful time of the year- plz laugh-

Warnings/content: 2nd person (you/yours), fem pup hybrid reader, puppy's first Christmas! Grumpy ol' man Vendetta Leon, Leon is referred to as daddy! Reader in time-out, visiting the hybrid park, angst and fluff, mentions and descriptions of gore, all gets resolved in the end!

Word count: 7,430 approx.

┈•┈┈•┈୨୧┈•┈┈•┈

December 23rd

Time out. Oof, those words. They were enough to take the swing right out of your tail.

This definitely wasn’t your fault. On the scale of 1-10 you’re like, a -5 when it comes to being in trouble. Totally. It wasn’t your fault it had rained, or your fault you wanted to jump in the the new layer of snow and got all wet and muddy, the only part that might have potentially, potentially been on you was tracking said mud and sleet through the living room. The living room rug to be exact. The rather expensive, difficult to clean because daddy sometimes ‘truly can’t be fu- bothered’ rug. That was the one rule; he could deal with mess on the floorboards, the tiles, but not the carpet. The stains were just too hard to get out.

Leon could handle dirt and grime absolutely, he’d take it over guts and gore any day of the week, public holidays and Christmas included. But coming home from work after a long day, hands stinking of gunpowder and grease, only to find muddy streaks and pawprints all over the rug was his last straw. The coffee machine in the office had been broken, his magazine clip had taken three different attempts to click into place despite the million times he’d done it before, and the armoury’s practice range had been down for maintenance. This was just the gasoline flavoured icing on his flambe flaming shit excuse for cake.

Woosh. Fire.

So, there you were. Plopped back into your pen, favourite squeaky toy just out of reach sat beside Leon’s chair as he scrolled through whatever’s on his phone. Teddy was right there, all worn out fluff and stringy neck ribbon, you were being taunted! This was torture, punishment of

the worst degree. The only thing that would make it even more awful was going to bed without a kiss goodnight. But even Leon wasn’t that cruel.

Don’t get it twisted, he was feeling guilty about this too. The face you made when he walked through the door told him plenty. Big, round eyes, head bowed and tail anxiously thumping. You knew you’d gotten carried away. But you also knew better. And it’d been so long since he actually disciplined you. This was long overdue, half chewed toys left sopping wet in the bath after tub time, weeks of chased squirrels and rabbits, staying up way past your set bedtime. This was what really sealed the deal though. So, you do the time, you do the crime.

Even now he could feel your eyes boring into the back of his head, like two teary, glossy lasers set to melt his old hardened heart. Every half-hearted thump of your fluffy tail, every scuttle of your nails against the floorboards as you got comfortable, every tiny whimper you seemed hesitant to let out. Not to mention your poor attempts at being ‘completely and totally cool’ with your timeout since he often caught you staring up at him through the bars, eyes following each swipe of his fingers over his phone screen. And when he craned his neck to check on you, you were swiftly looking in the opposite direction, swearing you weren’t just tracking each of his movements. How couldn’t you though? You were obsessed with your owner, Leon was your daddy at the end of the day no matter how many play pens or crates he had to put you in so you’d behave.

His poor princess. You were killing him, really. He’d survived well over 15 years of bioterrorism just to die at the hands of his pup-hybrid’s big wet pathetic gaze. Could flood a village with the amount of tears you shed a week, but he loves you and that tender heart of yours.

The real question was how much longer could either of you take? Leon knew it was a ‘you do the crime, you do the time’ type of deal, but was this truly teaching you anything other than how to master your pouty bottom lip? You’re his favourite fluffball, fuzzed up and huffy, chuffing and rolling over onto your back like you’re ready to play dead if it gets you out.

And honestly? He was caving. He was only a man after all.

You’d softened him, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Three years ago he’d have scoffed at the thought of even owning a hybrid, let alone being this attached. But now you were glued to his side. Now he just felt like an old man, worn and tired, your sunshiney attitude and warmth had thawed through him like no heater had. He’d been frostbitten before meeting you, whether he’d known it or not.

He couldn’t bear it. Yeah, time was up.

So his heavy footsteps muffled through socks padded across the floorboards to you, although you tried to act like you didn’t care (and failed miserably). It was pretty obvious how much this mattered to you, because your tail was whipping something fierce, so hard it had your hips wiggling.

“C’mon, darlin’. Think you’ve learnt your lesson.”

Those big eyes pierced his very being and soul as you gazed up at him from behind your lashes, ears all floppy and face streaked with past tear tracks. God, you’d been crying over this too? Might as well just rip his heart from his chest and stomp on it.

Even as he turned around and sat back down on the couch, looking over to you expectantly, you seemed to hesitate at first. Glancing at the spot where the rug had once sat in the centre of the living room, right in front of the coffee table, with guilty furrowed brows. Then it was back to looking at Leon, back to melting him with those heartbreaking watery eyes.

“Oh, my sweet puppy.” He couldn’t help but croon as you made guilty little steps over to him, every tap of your feet filled with shame, tail swaying with embarrassment. You were a walking heap of emotions, and he was ready to scoop you up and put you back together. “Here she comes, there we go. Tough day for our girl.”

You’d missed it, oh how you’d missed it. At your heart you truly were just a puppy, in need of the loving praise and sweet words that only he could provide. You weren’t the mushiest pup in the litter, but there was nothing like a good hug from your daddy. That much was clear from the way you melted into Leon’s body as soon as you were sat in his lap, your tail thumping delightfully against his knees while you burrowed into him. Paws kneading his shirt so you nestled into him just right.

“I know it was rough, honey. M’ sorry. But sometimes daddy has to discipline you, y’know?” the thick pad of his thumb encased your chin just enough to tilt your gaze upwards, his hand sliding over the curve of your face so he could wipe your tears away. “And it hurt, didn’t it?” “Yeah..” “So next time you think about stepping on the rug with muddy feet, you’ll remember how much we both hated this, and you won’t do it, isn’t that right?” “,,Yeah.”

“That’s right, baby. My poor girl.” That last statement came out as a small sigh, rubbing the soft fuzz of your floppy ears tenderly between his fingers. Even now as he gave you a talking down your tail never stopped thumping against his leg.

No matter what, you loved him. That must’ve been why they called it puppy love. And it made his heart ache something fierce. You were too good.

Leon felt like the worst daddy in the world sometimes, he wasn’t gonna even try to lie about that. Sometimes he scratched behind your ears too hard, or you didn’t understand one of his jokes and ended up getting pouty and upset, sometimes he didn’t throw the ball right or pick out the right snacks. But all of that was nothing compared to the biggest issue.

His intoxicated escapades were at the very top of that list.

Raids of the fridge and mumbling to himself, slumping his jacket off only to pass out on the edge of his bed. Leon knew you didn’t like when he got drunk, it was probably what hurt him the most about all of it. Not the gunshots echoing through his skull when his shot glass hit the table, or the recoil of a pistol wracking his shoulder when he ran into a wall too hard.

No, it was the look on your face.

How you seemed to curl yourself back into your pen, watching with a lowered head and a hesitant gaze, tail somewhat tucked. The foggy memory of the face you pulled when he was too rough petting you or spoke too loud while sloshed. That’s what ached, what truly stung like a bitch.

He was supposed to be the one protecting you, caring for you, and because of his own problems now you’d seen a side of him he never wanted you to. He’d made your hands awaken to the crack of eggshells beneath them when you stepped towards him, you were familiar with the shell’s powdering like that of bullet sulfur, and inner yolk gold as the streaks in his hair back then. Knew of the blood that sometimes hung in the middle of it all, and in the worst scenario the curling of bones left over.

But still at the end of the night, drifting between a muddled haze of asleep and awake, he’d hear you make your way slowly towards his bed, the mattress dipping when you climbed up and curled up at the bottom of the duvet. Because, despite it all, you wanted to be close to him.

Because, despite it all, he was your person. So he dumped what he could of the remaining bottles, stashed a few shitty cans for safe keeping in case things got too hard, and stopped being a regular at Jerry’s bar.

He was doing it for you, maybe only for you.

Now he had you sat in his lap, buried in his shoulder and curling in as small as possible. Trying to become one with the skin of his arms and fabric of his shirt. You wanted to crawl up under his jacket and be carried as one with Leon, you’d do it if you could.

He had to do something.

“What am I gonna do with you, huh?” Oh, that voice. Despite the icy weather outside, despite the cold that hung in his chest from time to time, his tone always tried to be warm with you. Soft. like those mutts learning to gentle their snarls and unclench their teeth, to stop growling. He was so used to the sneering, the sarcasm, snapping when someone got too close or said the wrong thing to him. But you were so fluffy, so fuzzy to the world, so unaware and loving. So he had to wear a muzzle, and he learned how to adjust.

Why? Because he couldn’t be a violent dog if he had his very own puppy. “I dunno..”

A lopsided smile spread across his cheeks at the look on your face, chin tilted and tail squirming as you look to him. There’s still the matter of that guilt still hanging in your face, stray strands like an unruly mop of hair.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna squeeze ya.” While you were still processing Leon’s comforting words and the lull of his voice, he was quick to gather you in his arms and press you tight to his chest. Immediately you were bathed in the scent of his shirt, the natural smell and comfort of his body. A warm blanket of safety had been draped over your blankets in the form of his presence. He squeezed your body nice and close until you squeaked out a yapped laugh, the fluff of your ear squished against his stubbled cheek.

“Oooo, good squeeze. Get all those nasty feelings outta you.”

“Daddyyyy, you’re smooshing me!” These were the moments he really cherished, ones where your tail swung and you squirmed in his arms with that smile of yours.

“Awww, well that’s how you know that it’s a real good squeeze,” His voice waved every time he swayed you slightly from side to side, bringing bubbly giggles from your throat that drifted up into the air and popped right at his heart. “It’s like juicin’ an orange, gotta shake and twist you till you’re all better.” “I don’t wanna be juice!” You howled out playfully, throwing your head back like the dramatic little thing that you were.

“Oh you don’t huh? Then you gotta keep smiling for me baby, it's just that simple.” He pushed his cheek up against your own. God, how he loved that smile, the sound of your tail thumping across the fluff of the sleek couch. There you sat, cute as a button, curled up atop his legs and snuggled in close like the sweetest, softest stuffed animal. “Tell you what, we get you one last snack, and then we’ll tuck you in, and tomorrow we’ll go into town. Catch everything before it all closes up.”

You were already half asleep in his arms by the time he’d finished talking.

December 24th

Planning the day out was the easy part, executing it was hard. Not only because Christmas was right around the corner which came with its own chaos, but because you were- well, you. Overly loving, over committed, overly loyal and lovely you. Leon swore you must’ve been the cutest looking leech or tick in a past life.

You insisted on putting together an outfit that yes consisted of your favourite bows and daddy’s most comfiest shirt that smelled like him. But even his ‘I’ve worn the same blue shirt for 3 years’ ass could tell when things didn’t coordinate together. So he did the gentlemanly and not-wanting-you-to-look-like-a-disaster-oustide-ly thing and helped you into some cute fleecy stockings, complete with a soft sweater and your favourite skirt. Gloves of some sort were a must, you had a thing for pawing at whatever you could get your hands on no matter how cold it was, and you were in your fuzziest boots. Adorable. Like a Christmasy puffball, a fluffy ornament. All you needed was a pair of angel wings and a halo and you’d be ready for the top of the tree.

“Look at her, look at that posture and stance. Look at that trot. That’s a well trained leash dog right there.” A smirk tugged at Leon’s lips as he watched you pad in step with him, the lacy trim of your skirt swaying whenever your foot met the sidewalk. This was the very same puppy who sat staring at him from her crate with the most pitiful eyes yesterday, rolling over onto your back like you might die from lack of attention. And now you were practically skipping, a bounce to your tail with every step.

You were lucky enough to live in a small enough part of the city. Not too urban, but definitely not rural. An outskirt area that was a nice walk away from the nearest hybrid park, long enough to get you warmed up for the real fun. And even after Leon had you off the leash you were staying in step with him, glued to his side with the sweetest smile on your face. In fact it took a little coaxing and the presence of some other pups for you to finally run around.

Leon knew you could be sociable when you truly wanted to be, but even for such a smiley little thing sometimes you simply preferred his company to anyone else’s. You could be skittish, a bit shy, and it truly threw him off guard when that part of you poked its head out from behind the warm rays of sunlight that radiated from your very being. It was adorable, really. Watching you curl into his leg with a slightly swishing tail of fluff, giving a small wave only to burrow into him. But today you were doing well, today you chose to shake out your jitters. And yes, he wouldn’t admit it, but he was proud of you.

No matter how many times Leon brought you out here, letting you experience the wonders of a normal domestic life, it never stopped being nothing short of magical to watch you shine. You had this magnetic aura that always seemed to follow you around, people were drawn to you and that sunbeam that clung to the smile on your face. The warmth that you spread to those around you.

You truly were his sunshine.

“Leon?”

A voice he hadn’t heard in a few weeks thanks to his time off work caught his attention, and sure enough as he looked over his shoulder there stood Ingrid Hunnigan. Bundled up in a long overcoat with a recyclable cup in her hands, steam wafting from the lid in smooth swirls through the crisp cold air. Already her glasses seemed to be fogging up again, despite so clearly being cleaned only recently. Yeah, he didn’t realise how lucky he was to have decent vision despite all the bullshit he’d been through. Glasses on top of the trauma and broken bones might’ve done him in.

“Hunnigan? The hell are you doing out here?” It wasn’t defensive or aggressive, moreso confused. Intrigued, interested. It wasn’t often he actually saw her out and about. A little silly in all honesty for him to think that, Ingrid always had some sort of plans around Christmastime. Her holiday decorations, complete with lights and glowing reindeer atop a tiled roof, were nothing to scoff at.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen the snow in person, I figured I’d go for a walk to get a feel for it.” She shrugged, hands tucked into her pockets.

He was listening, or at least some part of him was. The other part was blurring through his peripheral vision to make out the blob of colour and wagging tail that was you balling up snow as you ducked behind a tree, playing with one of the other hybrids. If you asked anyone in his line of work, they’d say Leon is a hardass. He’s committed to his work and gets his job done, and he’s passionate about what he does whether that’s good for him or not.

But with you? With you he was just a man. Just your owner, your person. And that was such a relief.

“How’s she doing?” Ingrid asks out of habit. Every woman in the office can’t help but ask Leon about his perfect princess. And of course he laughs, shaking his head.

“Spoiled as ever. Really enjoying my time off with her.” Much needed confirmation, he knows he’d never hear the end of it if he dared tell Hunnigan about the time out incident. Best to keep it lighthearted now. Even as her face seems to.. Falter. What was that about?

“Listen, about the Phillis report..”

And then that lightheartedness was gone. If it weren’t for the icy chill that surrounded him, Leon would’ve gone a new shade of pale in the cool winter light.

It never used to bother him. It never phased him on the outside. But now? With you?

The Phillis report. A family with a hybrid that had been a target for a bioterrorism attack.

A hybrid.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw you smiling, the red tips of his ears pricking at your laughter, the soft crunch of snow beneath people’s feet feeling much louder now as they passed. Everyone’s footsteps were unique, every thud and crush that left a print. Evidence. Clues. Cases. Work.

A hybrid like you. Everything was muddling together into the nastiest shade of grey water freezing over into ice. He hated his job. If he could pull the pin on a grenade, jump on top of it and coat the walls of that godforsaken office in his blood and guts he would. Because that’s what they were asking from him. They were asking him to die for them. Jumping from subject to subject, he was playing jump rope and hopscotch with his morals and intrusive thoughts over one simple statement in the middle of the holidays. How the mighty so quickly fell beneath twinkling lights and atop brightly wrapped presents.

The pulse of his heart had managed to spike, thundering fast and heavy in his chest. Eyes half an inch wider, pupils shrunk.

It could’ve been you. It- “Please, don’t. I’m just- I’m trying to not think about all of that. Not with her here.” It came out a bit too rushed, like his body had forced each syllable from his lips to get a point across. A safety measure, a precaution for his well being.

Leon had already spent countless nights tossing and turning over the paranoia of you being caught in his work. Now it had gotten so bad that even the mention of a hybrid being involved in a case made him sick to his stomach.

Because what if that had been you?

His throat almost closed itself off to the world as he got his words out. Ingrid’s face was creased in worry at the state of him. How had one statement so quickly pulled him through a 180? “It’s our first Christmas together, I can’t ruin that. I can’t.” Swallowing felt like choking down gravel but he managed to nonetheless.

Hunnigan’s gaze softened, because she knew exactly how much it would ruin a perfectly good day if she were to stretch this out. She knew you were bouncing around somewhere without even looking for you amidst the snow and differently shaped animal ears and noses. You were the centre of Leon’s world, even if he didn’t know it. But those around him, those like her and Claire and Rebecca, could see what a difference you’d made. “I get it. Just.. don’t worry about rushing it, okay? It can wait until next year.”

“Yeah.. Yeah, thanks.” Automated. Robotic. Leon felt like he was backseating his own life as he responded, hearing Hunnigan’s shoes click as she prepared to walk back to her apartment complex. The sympathy ebbing from her expression only made him feel more sick, and yes that would’ve made him feel bad if it weren’t for him being on the brink of what was most likely a panic attack.

“Merry Christmas, Leon. Take it easy.” He couldn’t get the words out, settling for a stiff nod. Work. Work, work, work. It followed him everywhere no matter how fucking hard he tried to escape it. Think of something else, he scolded himself through the deafening heartbeat in his ears. Anything else. Think of you.

Padding your way over the snow, he watched on in an attempt to calm himself down as you bounded around the park like a bunny. Maybe a fox, the type that burrowed deep under the flurries of fresh powder with yipping laughter. All he knew was you were enjoying yourself, and that was all that mattered. That was all he focused on as his breathing steadied. With a short, still somewhat breathless whistle, your ears stood on end. Immediately your head thwipped to him, and you were merely a blur of pink and white that came scampering towards him. Yeah, that got a snort. Good. He needed to laugh more.

“There’s my girl.”

And there you were indeed, practically barrelling into his leg so he let out a hoarse ‘oof’ at the impact. Complete with a whispered “Hi daddy,’ that somehow managed to calm his heart in ways no medication or therapy could. Maybe he could start you out on service hybrid training, get you certified. Nah, you were too cuddly for that. Plus the vest would have to be pink or you just might refuse to wear it. So for now, he figured he may as well treat you.

“How about some hot cocoa, hm? You were a good girl after all, took your punishment like a champ.” Lie. Big, fat lie. If the ladies at the office ever caught word of how Leon had put you in timeout he’d be getting the most gruelling of death glares. His grave would be trampled on as they sprinted their way over to comfort you. He couldn’t really blame them, though, how could you not run someone over to pet someone as precious as you. You, currently sticking your little tongue out to catch the delicate snowflakes floating down from the sky as you approached the cafe. That’s what he had to keep reminding himself of in this moment. He did all of this for you. Trying to drown out the sinking ache in his stomach as if he’d swallowed an anvil, that son of a bitch must’ve been hidden between the bubbles of his saliva, or maybe the frost that dripped from the roof.

So yeah, he was using you as the most sweet looking distraction right now, watching your wide eyes take in the wood grain and sleek walls of the coffee shop tucked into a corner of the park. On your best behaviour as you both stood in line until you got to the register. The metal tang in the back of his throat definitely had nothing to do with the gut weight still lingering after talking to Ingrid. Nope. Must’ve been the cold.

“Yeah, can we grab one long black and one.. Hm.” For a moment Leon caught himself rethinking his decisions. Was it really the best idea to give you something that had ‘cocoa’ in the name? You guys had yet to test how you’d react to chocolate after all. Taking the time to test and breakdown what food and beverage you could eat or simply didn’t like was a meticulous process, but better safe than sorry. “Wait, that was on our testing list..”

“Daddy?” Sorry puppy, daddy’s too busy having a small crisis over whether or not you can actually drink what he was ordering for you.“Is it- It should be safe for you to have hot cocoa, right?” “Daddy.” This time it was flatter. Unimpressed.

“I mean you haven’t had a bad reaction to anything yet despite being part puppy but, it’s technically chocolate to some degree so-

“Daddy!”

The tugging at his wrist was enough to get his attention back on you, the draw of your big dewy eyes and scrunched nose luring him in like a fish to bait.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” “Turn brain switch off.”

Sometimes he thought you were pretending to be as curious and innocent as you are, because you so easily sensed when he was anxious or worried. Like an instinct. Sure, he loved you to bits, but you weren’t the brightest bulb in the- light store? Batch? He’d come up with a better analogy later. Either way, the point stood. And yet you always did that little head tilt when something seemed off. That bulb flickering to life.

“Right, puppy. Daddy’s turning the overthinking switch off.” Leon reassured as best as he could. And it seemed to satisfy. “Good daddy.”

He couldn’t help but snort again at that. “Thanks, baby.” Being praised for his minute efforts in managing his thoughts by his very own puppy hybrid. By the time you hit the register he was still smiling despite the storm in his head. “One long black and a hot cocoa, please.”

But oh, how quickly it faded into thunder clouds. Even as he gave the barista his name for the order and walked over to wait for your drinks, it lurked over him. A sickening thickness in his throat, like tar tobacco and nicotine had clogged his windpipe. He was on auto pilot when he collected the recyclable cups and placed one of them into your eager hands, not recognising his own voice as he warned you about it being hot.

Leon was stuck between reality and dissociation, his feet leading both of you on the path back home that you’d taken enough times to have memorised. And even as you blew on the surface of your cocoa through the spout of the cup’s lid, you could see it in his eyes. That distant look. Deflated, the same as when you chewed on your favourite squeaky toy too hard and it popped.

“Daddy? You’re all droopy.”

Your voice was high and puzzled, all floppy ears and arched brows in confusion. Did he not like the park? You’d had a wonderful time making snow angels and bounding through the white powder like sweet icing sugar atop a winter cake. Maybe daddies just didn’t do parks well, like how you didn’t do the vet too well.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Daddy’s just thinking about things.” It had him staring out so far his eyes hit the end of the sidewalk, through the ice and snow to the cement. One hand held your leash, the other swiping past his lips. Hoping to wipe away the residue of his frown.

It didn’t work. “But the switch..” Oh, don’t give him that tone. So heartbroken, so worried. It broke him.

“I know, I know the switch honey.” Already he was rubbing over the crease between his brows. This conversation couldn’t happen, not here and not now. “But sometimes- sometimes it’s not that simple, you know? Sometimes the switch doesn’t work.”

You supposed that made sense. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder. And pry, just a smidge. You could be a little pushy and shovey, whether you meant it or not. “Well, whatcha thinking about?”

What wasn’t he thinking about was the real question. It was all blurring together.

He simply shook his head. Made the bangs of his hair sway when he did. “Don’t worry about it, pup. It’s a conversation for another time.”

Well, that didn’t seem right to you. Usually Leon was so open with his feelings towards you, so you couldn’t help but nudge him. This time not with your nose or paw, but with your words. “But..”

And then his voice was lighter, as if he’d dropped the weight he’d been carrying over to one shoulder. Giving the illusion that things were better, that things were normal. But that shoulder still slumped. “Hey, weren’t you telling me something about Jill’s dog Carlos showing up on his own today? What was that about?”

It still dragged.

At first you were very willing to tell him, the very concept of a hybrid on their own both bewildered, confused and excited you. Carlos was a big shaggy furred fella, he always played fair and shared the good treats Jill handed out.

But you knew this tactic. It was the same as when you’d ask him questions and instead of giving you an answer he’d pick up the nearest squeaky toy and suddenly you were playing fetch instead of talking. This time you were all the wiser.

“You’re trying to distract me! I don’t get it, when people say certain things you go stiff and wonky.” You couldn’t help but frown up at him. It didn’t feel fair, not knowing these things about him. A whole year together and yet sometimes he looked more like a stranger, dodging your questions and petting your ears so you’d move on. But you weren’t expecting him to furrow his eyebrows and sigh low in his chest, the way his forehead creased and nose flared. It was the same look you got before time out, only this one seemed more defensive than the last.

“Not now, sweetheart. Please.” Leon’s tone was flat, no room for argument no matter how much your wriggled and squeezed your body between the cracks. Your tail’s wag deflated, slowing to nothing more than a slight sway. The snow felt a little colder after that.

December 30th

Christmas had been nothing short of a success in the Kennedy household, with Leon’s living room being covered in scattered wrapping paper and a whole new variety of toys in pastel colours. He was delighted. This may have been one of the few times he actually enjoyed a holiday rather than loathing it. Maybe it was because you were there, so he wasn’t spending it alone like he usually did. The way you’d spun in circles and yapped happily about it being Christmas morning.

It had been your first real Christmas ever. Your first Christmas not spent in a cage, where you got toys and ate warm meals with the man you loved, with Claire and Becca and Chris and Jill coming over for lunch under the fluorescent glow of the Christmas lights you’d insisted Leon put up. You’d sat by the tree unwrapping gifts with the fastest wagging tail Leon had ever seen, ears perked to attention and eyes wide and sparkling. He was glad, honoured really, to witness this moment of pure unbridled joy for you.

The two of you spent most if not all of Boxing Day lazing around the house in your pajamas, cuddling by the fireplace and bundling under blankets for more than a few naps. Lazy days, oh how you both loved them. Soon it was the 26th, then the 27th,so on and so on.

Now, the christmas paper had been collected, the tree’s decorations were slowly taken down in day by day intervals, and you sat politely by the glass door to the backyard watching the snow. Leon figured if there was ever a time to truly explain to you the truth behind his career, it was likely now. A tough conversation to have, but one that needed to happen. He just couldn’t leave you in the dark like this, not any longer.

“Hey, sweetheart?” “Hm?”

There it was. That innocent lilt, the curve of your neck as you craned to look at him. You were something too pure to be sitting on the floor of his home. You deserved mattress upon mattress like the princess and the pea, only he wouldn’t be an idiot like the ones in that book. Leon knew better than to leave under the bed unattended in case there were coyotes trying to nip at his sweet girl’s toes and tail.

Softening, that’s what he was doing. Cracking. This wasn’t going to end well and he knew it. “Y’know how daddy doesn’t like to talk about work?”

Uh oh, now you knew it was time for a serious talk. Not like when you dirtied the rug, this time you weren’t in trouble. Still you looked at him so gently, with such trust while that mountain of fluffy fur behind you swished. Because if it was serious, it was important. “Yeah.”

Leon patted the spot on the couch beside him, complete with a pretty pink bone print blanket for you to settle on, to which you trotted yourself over as dainty as could be. Hopping up next to him, a tail curled around your back. Getting yourself cozy under his arm with your head nestled right next to his chest. Listening to the steady thrum of his heart as his pulse picked up. Doing so much, yet so little, and it all comforted him.

It was starting to sink in. He was telling you. He was opening the casket, dragging the corpse of his past through the dirt to pose for a real, living person. How was he supposed to break this to you? How did you even word his job without saying ‘I might die one day’?

“Well, that’s cause what I do is pretty dangerous, puppy. I don’t want to worry you with all the stuff I have to do.” The violence, the bloodshed, the screaming. Flashes of red that haunted his dreams, the ones you’d nudge at his face over until he’d wake up because you heard him muttering in his sleep.

“Why?” You were so oblivious to his little inner world, the one he made sure to hide from you. The one filled with guilt and shame. He wanted to keep it that way, but what choice did he have? How could he keep you safe if you had no idea what you were being kept safe from? You should be worried about what colour skirt to wear, or if your collar matches your outfit, not this bullshit.

“Because it’s just better for you to sit and wait for me to get home at the end of the day, baby.” It was better for you to expect him home every day.

It was better for both of you if you just always thought he was coming home.

It made his heart break so hard his ribs snapped thinking about you sitting by the big bay window, tail flicking and throat weeping whimpers if he didn’t show up for a few days. Then weeks. Then eventually someone would have to take you in, pack up all your toys. They’d find the list he kept stashed on the top of the fridge just in case; instructing anyone who found you on just how you liked your food and which stories to whisper in your ear at night when the thunder got too loud.

You’d never go willingly. Someone would have to leash you and tug you out the door to their car. You’d cry. You’d cry so hard your throat would die out hoarse. It would probably be Claire or Chris or Becca picking you up, he’d have to hope. The thought of some stranger from the DSO taking you from his home, your home, the home you shared together, had him swallowing down a lump. He knew you’d never recover from it. It would shatter you, after sitting in a kennel alone for so long and finally crawling out of your shell, just to lose the person you so clearly loved more than anyone else. Fuck, Leon could feel his eyes watering.

But he couldn’t do that to you. He just couldn’t. It would be the cruelest thing in the world for him to abandon you without any choice in the matter. If he were a stronger man he’d have retired by now. But he wasn’t stronger. He had no backbone when it came to his job, the government, the United States as a whole. Some fucking hero. He was more like a lapdog, breaking his neck for a board of people who didn’t give a shit about him. Taking the scraps he was offered.

“Daddy, you’re crying..” Your sad voice pulled him back into reality, where you were now taking those soft hands of yours to wipe away his tears. Wet streaks that lined the creases forming in his scarred over skin. He was getting too old for this. Too old to be bottling up these feelings for days on end. Wearing himself down for the sake of denying what he felt.

“Fuck, sorry sweetheart. It’s just.. It’s my job to keep you safe. But it’s also my job to keep everyone else safe, too. And your daddy’s been through everything, honey. Zombies, parasites, bioterrorism, war, the whole five yards. I’ve had so many people turn their backs on me or- or look to me for help for so long that it drives me crazy to even think of you worrying about me not coming home.”

How long had it been since he’d cried? Really cried? How much more could a man like Leon take? Sure he was strong, he had to be. Built up from broken beginnings on bloodied glass, shitty past relationships and world-ending catastrophes. But he was only human for Christ’s sake.

And maybe he was finally starting to sober up to that realization.

“I always think you’ll come home..”

Of course you did. Of course you, this sweet angel of a puppy girl, looked up at him with those watery eyes filled with confidence in such a statement. As if you loved him so much it almost poured from your lash line in heart shaped droplets. You had such hope despite where he’d adopted you from. Had he done that? It was odd to think about. How someone as shitty as him (in his perspective at least) had gotten you to blossom and bloom into the sweet thing you were today.

“Yeah, why’s that honey?”

“Cause you’re Leon, and Leon is the strongest person I know.”

The weight of your head now resting against his shoulder was like an anchor that stopped Leon from washing out on the beach of his despairs. He wasn’t left to drift off into oblivion, to drown in his sorrows and regrets. He had you. You had him. A hand came out to instinctively pet over the warm fuzz of your floppy ears, and he seeked out the comfort that came with your presence.

It was comforting, the quiet. Not tense or awkward. Like the waves of the ocean sloshing to a slow and serene sway after a tsunami or a tidal wave. To know you saw him as your hero, that you held him in such high regard. It made every grey hair and creased feature feel worth it. Everything he did, he did it for you. And for once it didn’t feel like a pressure, or a burden, it was a responsibility he was glad to shoulder. Like he were your knight in shining armour.

“Why’d you never tell me you went through all that stuff?” Even now as you spoke your voice was low and soft, sweet to his ears like a drizzling of warm honey right to his cochlea. Those homemade remedies for aches and pains.

Even now he found himself chuckling to get through this, an ache in his chest with each exhale. Someone had set a cinderblock on his chest, and you were mustering up all the strength in those little paws to ease it off. “And ruin what we’ve got going on right here? I wasn’t gonna risk that.”

Apparently that was the wrong answer, because now you were perked upright with the slightest of pouts perched atop your lips. Disagreement etched into your features. “S’ not ruined, dummy. It just means I get to say I love you a whole lot more.”

Now it was his turn to snort sincerely. Always so stubborn. Adorable, sweet, but stubborn. "Oh, is that so?”

“Mhm. So when things are yuck it’ll be easier to remember that I love you. Cause I’ll say it as many times as I gotta until you believe it.”

You ruined him, and not in a bad way. You took the world’s smallest pick to the world’s coldest iceberg and chipped back his layers sliver by sliver. Sculpting him back into what he once was before the world dumped cold water onto him and froze over the softness that lay within.

Leon’s hand stroked aimlessly over the curve of your head, tracing over the edges of your hair gently. Even with the scrapes on his knuckles and bruises on his palms he always made sure to be soft with you. His voice, half cracked and brimming with affection, was quiet as he whispered back. “I love you too, puppy. You’re my best girl.”

Firewood crackled in a low, jagged white noise in the background, smoothing into a quiet simmer that cast a warm orange glow against the walls. Bathing the room in heat, one that you both let wrap around you like a safety blanket. You found haven in each other, because no matter what, you always came back to one another. Leon was your owner, after all. It was his job to ensure you had the best life, with all the comforts you could ask for and then some.

And he planned to do just that. Whether it meant dumping out all the alcohol in his house or not.

“So.. Do I get more presents?” It’s a teeny voice against his shirt that had him tilting his chin down to look at you.

“Well no puppy, the next holiday is New Years Eve. We don’t give presents then, only Christmas.” A pretty straight forward explanation, or at least that’s what it felt like to him.

“Why?” Another chirp.

His brow arched. “Cause Christmas is only once a year, sweetie.”

“Why?” And another. “Okay, we’re not starting this.”

God, just wait until you find out about birthdays. Then he’s done for.

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youngbounty · 3 days ago

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I'll See You in Your Dreams

Anyone lucky to have a soulmate will see them in their dreams. However, sometimes, they will wake up only remembering a few things about their soulmates. Jonathan Kent cannot remember a single thing about his soulmate. Meanwhile, Damian is placing a spell every time he sleeps so his soulmate won't remember their shared dream or what he looks like

Many of the lucky ones found their soulmates at some point in their lives. Sometimes, it was as children and others as adults. It was unfortunate if it was never at all, but the lucky ones would find their soulmates through their dreams. These dreams came periodically and would bond one with their soulmates. It was like the Disney movie Sleeping Beauty, where Aurora met her prince once upon a dream.

The problem was when the dreamer would not remember that dream or only fractions of the dream. Only a few people ever remembered the exact description of their soulmate. Lois Lane was one of those, being how she knew Clark was her soulmate the moment they first met at work. It took a while for him to realize Lois was his soulmate, having thought it was Lana for a long time.

For Jon, every time he dreamed of his soulmate, he'd wake up not remembering his soulmate. He'd wake up from the most wonderful dream meeting his soulmate without knowing a single fraction of this person. Jon would curl in his bed and cry in his pillow, grieving from the loss of whatever memory of his soulmate he had. If only he could remember something! Anything!

After some months of this, Jon became disheartened and depressed. He just couldn't figure out what to do, so he could remember his soulmate. He tried laying a notepad on his nightstand to draw his soulmate, but the instant he woke up, he'd forget what his soulmate looked like. He even tried to keep the vision of his soulmate from his dreams, only for it to vanish the moment he opened his eyes. The worst part was that Jon couldn't remember anything about the dream with his soulmate outside of how happy and wonderful it was.

While sitting on the roof of his house, his dad came floating next to him.

“Hey Jonno, what's the long face?” Clark asked, seeing his son sitting on the roof looking out on the fields of Hamilton.

Jon shrugged, “Just thinking.”

“What are you thinking about?” Clark asked, sitting next to his son.

Jon sighed, finally confessing, “I've been having dreams of my soulmate for the past few months.”

“Oh?”

“But, every time I wake up, their memories just... vanish.”

“Hm...” Clark responded, understanding Jon's frustration. “I was about your age when I started having dreams of your mother. Of course, I thought it was Lana at the time.”

“You said before. I figured it was because of her name, but at least you remembered something. Even a name. But, I don't even know mine's name or anything. I tried leaving a notepad on my side table, but every time I wake up, my soulmate and the dream is gone,” Jon cried, hugging his legs tightly in frustration. Clark hugged his soul warmly.

“It's alright, son. I never met your mother until many years after I had my first dream. You'll meet her.”

“Erm... I don't know if it's a guy either.”

“Him. Her. Son, you'll find this person. It might take years, but you will find something to remember when you have more of these dreams. Sometimes, with these things, you just need to wait it out,” Clark promised as Jon sniffed, nodding his head.

Jon wanted so much to remember who his soulmate is. He'd give anything to keep a memory, any part of his soulmate or even a name. He'd take a sliver of his soulmate that he would keep in his heart and lock it tight so he'd never forget it. Even if Jon had to wait years to meet this soulmate, he just wanted to keep something of this soulmate to remember forever until they meet.

The dreams came more frequently, but the memories of his soulmate were left a mystery. Jon would purposely take short naps just to see his soulmate and find something to remember. Unfortunately, nothing came, except some words. He couldn't remember the sound of that voice, but he remembered words. Jon wrote each and every one of them down that he could remember. They weren't much, but they were something. Some of these were words of endearment: Beloved and my Love. There was also that sound he did with his teeth.

“Tt,” Jon sounded, trying to match the sound he remembered from his soulmate. He wanted to remember this and lock it in his heart. “Tt.”

Damian had been having dreams of his soulmate ever since he moved in with his father. He had known about soulmates through his mother and grandfather. His grandfather often was the one to tell these stories, being his grandmother was his grandfather's soulmate. However, since leaving the Al Ghul's, he cared not for soulmates, except to reproduce eventual offspring, which this one would not be able to do. There were always other options, but outside of spreading his seed, he did not wish to partake in lovemaking.

It was annoying, because Damian was a lucid dreamer, meaning he knew it was a dream and remembered his dreams and soulmate perfectly. The first time Damian saw his soulmate, he was taken aback by the reality that his soulmate was not a girl. He had never thought or explored the possibility of mating with another boy. However, this one was special and did things to his heart and emotions.

Every moment Damian was with his soulmate, Jonathan Kent, they would being lying under the stars on a grassy field, riding on a horse or sitting on a tree together in the depths of the forest. Jonathan was always pushing Damian to become lost in their dream where they can be whatever they wanted. It was crazy, wild, fantastic and beautiful. There was so much color, so many diamond stars and those beautiful eyes that would stare right back before feeling a chaste kiss on his lips.

In order to release himself of this boy that would make him feel weak, Damian placed an enchantment so this boy would never remember their dream or what he looked like. He preferred it that way and it seemed that Jonathan didn't take much notice. However, he was beginning to act restless. Damian ignored it, not wishing to lose himself into this dream if he can help it. No matter what his heart was doing, he refused to allow himself to lose himself to this boy.

“Hey Dami,” Jon grinned playfully in Damian's dream, flying to Damian before lifting him from under his arms and up in the air.

“Put me down!” Damian commanded, squirming his way out of Jon's grasp, then stopped as soon as their hands touch.

“I don't want this to end, Dami. I want to remember you,” Jon said blissfully, almost pleading as Damian found his eyes on Jon's violet ones. He found himself lost in them, before turning red and looking away.

“Tt.”

“Hm?”

“Beloved, we're in a dream. Once we wake up, we will forget any of this,” Damian said, shyly gazing his eyes back to violet ones that showed true determination.

“Then, I'll find something to remember forever. I want something to take with me,” Jon said quietly and something about his voice made Damian's heart skip.

“Tt.”

Why did Jon always do this to him? They haven't even met and already Damian's heart was doing backflips. It was only a matter of time before they woke up and Jon would forget all of this. So, why did Damian not want to wake up? Why did this fleeting dream feel like a nightmare from the thought of waking up?

The moment Jon met Damian for the first time, he knew it was his soulmate. It was a mix between a dream and a nightmare with all the fighting. However, Jon felt himself continually gravitating to Damian every single time and they could never avoid each other. Not even Damian could avoid Jon. He had eventually stopped using the spell on Jon to remove his memories of their dreams.

Jon never called out or pointed out Damian using any spell to remove memories of their dreams together. If anything, it seemed as if Jon was becoming more affectionate and loving. Damian had to ask.

“Why?” Damian asked in a quiet voice.

“Hm?” Jon asked, whose head was leaning on Damian's shoulder.

“Why do you remain with me? I'm... I know you remember our dreams together,” Damian said, looking away shyly, while still feeling Jon's fingers lacing through his.

“Yeah. I also knew we'd meet eventually. You are the son of Batman.”

“But... aren't you angry I made you so anxious for all these years?” Damian asked, glaring at Jon, who wouldn't help but smile brightly with big violet eyes.

“Not really. Even in our dreams, I knew I would meet you one day and show you that no lack of memory of you would change how I feel. You're my soulmate and I will always meet you in our dreams.”

“Jon...” Damian said in a whisper as Jon hummed. “Please don't leave me.”

“Never,” Jon promised in a whisper, placing a single kiss on Damian's lips.

It felt so real as if those lips belonged together. Damian wanted nothing more than to sleep again, knowing Jon will always meet him in his dreams.

“Say it again,” Jon pleaded as Damian rolled his eyes.

“Tt,” Damian responded, making Jon hum.

#jonathankentshipweek #day 2 #soulmate #love at first sight #damijon #dc #dcu #dc comic #dc universe #jonathan Kent #jon kent #damian wayne #superboy #robin #super sons

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lulublack90 · 1 day ago

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Prompt 8 - Physical

Wolfstar, January 8, word count 722

Previous part First part

Everything was delicious. Remus had three platefuls to Sirius’s amusement.

“Where is it all going?” He asked, prodding a finger into Remus’s flat stomach. Remus shrugged as he swallowed another roast potato.

“No idea. Mum used to say I had hollow legs. She used to joke that she’d never managed to fill me, I just kept eating.” He hadn’t talked about his mum for a long time. It usually came with pain as he remembered her, but with Sirius, talking about her filled him with warmth.

Once they were finished, Remus dutifully took their plates to the kitchen and began washing up. Sirius slid in beside him and began drying what Remus had washed. They worked in comfortable silence, but Remus could tell Sirius was building up to ask him something. His eyes kept darting towards Remus and his mouth kept opening and shutting without any words coming out.

“So, erm, this Sunday my parents are hosting an event for MS and I wondered if you might want to go with me? You don’t have to,” He added quickly, seeing Remus wince.

“It’s not that I don’t want to go with you because I do. I just agreed to work Sunday night, and if I cancel, I might not get asked again.” That was the problem with his other job. If you turned down the work, then the next time you’ll be the last person on the list they ask and right now he couldn’t afford that.

“Oh, alright,” Sirius said sadly, reaching up to put the plates back in the cupboard. Remus opened his mouth to explain further, but right at that second, his phone went off. Olivia Newton-John singing ‘Let’s Get Physical!’ On repeat. It was James.

“Sorry,” Remus apologised as he answered the call. “Hey James, what’s up?”

“Hey, babe,” Remus could hear the smile in James’s voice and found a smile of his own creeping across his mouth. “You still up for Saturday then? Lily wanted me to check,” Shit, he’d forgotten about Saturday. It was Lily’s birthday, and they were all getting together for a party at theirs. Remus suddenly had an idea. He turned to Sirius and, holding the phone against his shoulder, asked. “Do you fancy coming to a friend's party with me on Saturday?” Sirius’s face lit up and he nodded yes. Remus put the phone back to his ear and found James rabbiting on about all the decorations he’d bought and how it was going to take him forever to blow up all the balloons. “Hey, James, would it be alright for me to bring somebody?” The line went silent. “James?” Remus asked, pulling the phone away and checking the screen to make sure they were still connected.

“What, like a date?” James asked curiously. Remus looked at Sirius. He had no idea what their relationship was. Sirius held out his hand and Remus passed him his phone.

“Hi, James, is it? This is Sirius. Remus doesn’t know it yet, but I’m his boyfriend… Yes, that’s right, the one that keeps inviting himself over for sleepovers… Oh my god, yes, Sweeny Kebab, right?… He totally is… I did, it was the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth… No seriously… Did you get one of those hand pumps? One of those would make it so much easier… We could come around early and help you set up… Yes, of course, I can’t wait to meet you. I’ve only met Remus’s father… Oh, yeah… He left pretty quickly once he found out who I was… Oh, erm, Sirius Black… Yeah, yeah, that’s them… Really?… Damn, James, that's, that's so sweet… Yeah, see you on Saturday… Bye.” Sirius handed Remus his phone back.

“I love him, Remus, I demand that you keep him,” James told him as soon as he put the phone back to his ear.

“Yeah, I think you’re right,” He answered, watching Sirius move about his flat with easy familiarity. The little weirdo had completely enamoured Remus. His boyfriend. It felt right somehow, even if they’d only known each other for days, it felt like so much more. “See you Saturday,” He said to James, before hanging up and going to sit with Sirius on the sofa. Sirius immediately cuddled up to him and Remus pressed play on his DVD player.

Next part

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chaotic-orphan · 1 day ago

Text

Whumpuary No.7

Unfair fight // Insomnia // “no one is coming”

This was a long one, hoi boi🫡 but she’s done…

“Hero…” Second in command said softly. Hero didn’t reply. She just kept walking after their team across the rocky terrain to the shelter that Navigator spotted a few kilometres back. “Hero.”

“What?” Hero asked. There was nothing sharp about the question. She didn’t snap. She didn’t sigh or demand an answer. It was empty. A sound that carried no meaning behind it. She was tired. She was beyond tired. She just wanted… she just…

“We’ll get them back.” Second told her. Hero didn’t reply. She just kept going. That’s all she could do. Keep walking. Keep breathing. Keep going until they somehow managed to rescue Vigilante from Supervillain.

Nobody that Supervillain took had ever been seen again, nevermind… nevermind— she buried that thought under a hatch in her mind and padlocked it down. Getting emotional wouldn’t get Vigilante back after all… no… she just put one foot in front of the other. It was easy. It was quiet. It was…

She was…

Leader, Navigator and Medic had dropped their packs and started setting up a camp, rolling out their bedding on the smooth rock. Rogue and Youngest were already gone, to fetch some wood for a fire no doubt when Hero and Second arrived.

Hero disengaged from the group and went to the cliff edge outside the shelter and settled her back against the rock of the cave. She heard the usual routine happening behind her, without her.

Then he appeared like an apparition in front of her. Translucent but full formed, a shadow of Villain with his self-satisfied smirk and gleaming eyes. Hero didn’t say anything as he approached her.

“Hello darling. You’re looking worn, drained.” Hero looked through him, literally, as he crouched down and pressed a phantom hand to Hero’s cheek. She wished she couldn’t feel it. She knew he was able to not let her feel it, but he was a sadistic fucker. “My my, have you been sleeping, pet? Your bags have bags,” he noted, pulling down her eyelid.

Hero batted his hand away, but her hand went straight through his projection and she huffed out a breath and looked away as Villain laughed.

“You know damn well why I’m not sleeping.”

Villain released her and sat in front of her instead. He tilted his handsome head to the side. “Is it Vigilante, hmm? The guilt of knowing you could have saved them but didn’t.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oh shush. You know how much I enjoy our little chats, Hero,” he said, waving her insult away. “Besides,” his eyes sharpened. “We both know what else I could spend my time doing if you don’t feel like talk—“”

Hero lurched forward a hand out that went through Villain’s visage. “No! No! I— I wanna talk.”

Villain grabbed Hero’s hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. His eyes danced with a gleeful satisfaction. “So desperate, Hero. So needy. But don’t worry. I’ll stay with you. We can talk all night long.”

Hero wanted to punch him. She wanted to cry and scream and wrap her hands around his throat because she didn’t know how much longer she could take this. The taunting, the teasing, every night, once the sun set, Villain would appear to her and force her to chat with him through the night so she couldn’t sleep. The first few days it was fine. She could catch an hour before and after Villain appeared, and she was fine. But they were travelling for two weeks now, and Hero had had to start sleeping by day to the annoyance of their teammates.

The worst part was she couldn’t even tell them about Villain, or Villain promised he’d make Vigilante pay and let Hero see all of the torture for herself.

How many times had she debated telling her team? How many times has she wanted to scream about it to somebody, anybody, but Villain somehow sensed that too after the fourth day.

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked her head back after she challenged him. “Maybe Vigilante’s life isn’t enough of a threat, hmm? You know… Youngest in your team seems quite—”

“No!” Hero screamed, struggling against a ghost.

Villain leaned down, craning Hero’s neck all the way back but she didn’t drop eye contact with him as he hissed: “then behave.”

Dinner came and went. Hero denied any food. She felt too sick to eat. Almost woozy from the insomnia, and when she did eat it was like she was pumped of adrenaline that only led her to crashing later.

“Hero… you should really eat. You’ll turn into skin and bones if you don’t,” Villain chided with a smile.

When it came time to sleep, Hero said she’d take first watch. Leader came out and stood above her. “Hero, no.”

“Oooh,” Villain cooed from behind Hero, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “Your boss is so forceful Hero. But tell him you insist.”

Hero shivered as the phantom hand settled on the nape of her neck. “I- I insist,” she said quietly.

Medic came out after Leader.

“Hero, get inside. We need to cover a lot of ground tomorrow and we can’t have you dozing off when the sun comes up again! We’re losing time to save Vigilante.”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” Hero cried, hands flying to her hair and pulling. “I— I want to save Vigilante more than anything.”

“She’s right you know,” Villain purred, standing behind Medic. He started whispering in Medic’s ear, loud enough for Hero to hear. “She wants to save poor Vigilante more than her circadian rhythms demand.”

“Please!” Hero cried. “I— I- I need to stay awake.”

Villain’s violet eyes flashed at Hero over Medic’s shoulder. “That’s right. Good girl. You tell them.”

Hero swallowed hard. Leader frowned and looked over his shoulder to where Hero stared, almost as if in a trance. Medic found his gaze, erudite eyes coloured with concern.

Leader looked back at Hero.

“Alright.” Leader said. Hero relaxed, breathing out a sigh of relief that seemed to be the only thing holding her up. She swayed as the world spun around her and would have fallen if not for Leader catching her halfway to the ground.

“Please,” Hero said with a breath, not entirely sure she didn’t blackout for a second. “Please, trust me,” she pleaded.

Leader nodded and sat her back against the rock. “I trust you, Hero. I know losing Vigilante has been hard on you, but there’s some leftover food and you will eat some of it if you won’t sleep, do you understand?”

“I—” Hero protested. Leader spoke over her.

“Or I’ll have Rogue take watch and ask Medic to force—”

“Okay! Okay!” Hero rushed out, panic seizing her heart. Leader smiled and tucked her hair out of her face.

“Good. I’ll grab you a plate. And you will eat it all, Hero.”

Hero nodded stiffly. “Okay.”

The two disappeared back into the cave. Hero could hear Medic berating Leader as they retreated but she didn’t really care about what they said anyways. Villain walked back in front of her and plopped himself down in front of her. His eyes alight with a dangerous amusement.

“You’re so good at taking orders, Hero.” Villain purred. “So pliant and malleable like this,” he said. He propped his elbow on his knee and his head in his hand. “Oh, if only I thought of taking Vigilante sooner. Maybe the heroes wouldn’t have given us as much trouble when you’re distraught and sleep deprived.”

Hero didn’t answer. A hot tear dripped from her eye onto her cheek. Maybe that was answer enough. She was going mad, she knew. Villain was driving her mad, making her seem crazy, torturing her for his own cruel enjoyment.

“Oh Darling,” Villain cooed as Hero started to cry silently, her shoulders shaking up and down and letting out silent sobs that sounded only like gasps of breath. He moved towards her and pulled Hero into his arms, his legs on the outside of hers as he pushed her head into his shoulder. She didn’t move. “Darling, shush. Crying will waste so much of your energy.”

Hero continued to cry. “Oh you poor sweet angel. There, there. I know it’s hard,” he said, patting Hero’s back. “I know, pet. But you’re just so stubborn, hmm? This can all be over if you like.”

Hero stiffened in Villain’s arms. “W-what?” She asked wetly, mucus clogging her words.

Villain pulled Hero back and smiled down a kind smile at her, but his horrible eyes betrayed him. “Darling, have you had enough?”

Hero nodded. Villain softened. “Words, doll.”

“Y-yes,” Hero sniffed. Then she jumped a little and shook her head. “But— but I don’t! I don’t want you to hurt Vigilante, please!”

Villain crushed her into his chest again. “Oh I know you don’t. I know you’d do anything for them, wouldn’t you?”

Hero nodded against Villain’s chest. “Words,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I know, darling. So how about we make a deal?”

Hero pulled back a little and stared into the monsters violet eyes. “A- a deal?”

It was a bad idea. Even in her state she knew it was a bad idea, but what else could she do?

“Yes,” Villain said, phantom fingers wiping away Hero’s tears. “A deal. A trade. You for Vigilante.”

All warmth drained from Hero’s body. She didn’t recoil or so much as flinch, she just stared at Villain who sat drinking in every minuscule muscle twitch across her face.

“What?”

“I asked Supervillain already. He said he was fine with the trade, and would put you under my care just like Vigilante is. But I wouldn’t torture you, sweet thing. We would chat, and be like this,” he said, as he tucked a piece of Hero’s hair behind her ear. “Together. In person. You won’t have to worry about a thing. I’ll release Vigilante and you won’t have that guilt plaguing your mind either.”

Hero’s mouth went incredibly dry, like she was inhaling glass. “Will— will you l-let me… will—” Hero fretted, “I- I need to sleep.”

“As soon as you’re in my arms, darling, my real arms I’ll let you sleep, hmm? Would you like that?”

Hero nodded. Her cries turned into a sudden sob she couldn’t catch. “Pl-please… please. I- I would. Ple—”

“Shush, shush, shush. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll do the rest.”

This time, Hero recoiled. “N.. no. You can’t— my team is… my team is here and—”

“Okay,” Villain mused. “Then pick a spot you know, where you can slip away and I’ll come pick you up.”

“And let Vigilante go?” Hero asked, hope colouring every word. Villain shook his head. Hero deflated.

“Once I have you we can talk about Vigilante’s release. I don’t want any nasty surprises in case you try to ambush me with your team.”

God, Hero didn’t even think of that… she was drained. Wholly and completely, her body on autopilot and her mind switched off.

“Okay…” Hero murmured. “Okay… I can meet you by the ruins to the old church in the black valley.”

Villain nodded. “I think I know that area. Okay. I’ll be waiting.”

Hero stiffened. “I- I won’t be able to go until they’re asleep.”

Villain chuckled. A warm, hearty sound. “I know, sweet thing. It will just take me some time to get there so I’ll trust you and leave you to find your way.”

Hero sat out of Villain’s embrace, pulling her sleeve over her hand and wiping her cheeks. “O-okay.”

When Hero arrived at the old church a car was waiting for her. A silhouette of a figure she knew too well was waiting, perched against the passenger side door. Hero froze in place.

Oh god.

What was she doing?

This man had… he had tortured her psychologically over the last two weeks, playing dirty, fighting unfairly, depriving her of sleep just so he could pull something as horrid as this… something she would never have agreed to if she was of sound mind.

And… oh god. She hadn’t gotten used to the cold feel of his fingers and hands on her, everytime he touched her it was like a zap of electricity, or an icy shock to her system that made her gasp but seeing Villain in person now…

He looked very much real.

Strong too. Stronger than he appeared when he projected himself to her mind and even then he could overpower her.

“You know,” his velvet voice called over the short distance between them. It sounded smoother in person, like melted chocolate in her ears. Warm and soothing. Not the voice of a villain. “In your state, I could always catch you if you tried to run.”

Hero couldn’t move. Her body wouldn’t let her step closer. A cold hand settled on the small of her back and pushed her forward. “There you go, that’s a good girl. Do you still have your bow?”

Hero swallowed. Nodded. “Words, darling,” he purred. Hero trembled.

“Y-yes.”

She was so close now. She could make out some of the features on his face, his long hooked nose, his deep set eyes and his dark hair that fell a little over his eyes she could feel more than see were focused only on her.

“Good. I will need to take that off you for now, but if you behave I will give it back so you can train. Keep your skills up. Would you like that?”

Hero didn’t answer.

Five steps.

Four steps.

Three steps.

Two.

Her heart screamed at her to run, to flee, pumping adrenaline through her body to get her to escape.

But it was too late. Villain put his hand on her cheek. It was warm. Hero couldn’t suppress the flinch.

“Oh you are just an angel, aren’t you?” He whispered. Hero didn’t answer. His eyes went to the road Hero came from. She had the good sense to go around the church so he wouldn’t know which direction her team was. That wasn’t part of the deal. “And any teammates follow you?”

Hero began to shake her head, but stopped, looked at him. Words. “N-no… it’s just me… no— no one else is coming.”

Villain’s smile cut into his face, exposing his white teeth. “Excellent, Hero.”

He took her quiver and bow from her shoulders and opened the door for her to the passenger seat. Hero climbed in. Villain shut the door and walked to the boot, throwing her weapons into the trunk before he climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Hero bristled. “I… I won’t be any trouble, I swear,” she pleaded. “Please, I just… I just want to sleep.”

Villain smiled sympathetically at her. “I know, Hero. I just need to make sure you don’t get any ideas of escape while we drive back to base. Surely you understand?”

Hero’s bottom lip trembled. She bit it to stop from crying and nodded. Her eyelids threatened to drown her if she didn’t close her eyes soon. “Good girl. I’ll just cuff one hand, okay?”

Hero nodded again. Once she was secured and he was sure she couldn’t go anywhere, he nodded and started the engine. When they pulled off, out of the ruins and onto the main road he said: “okay, little Hero. You’ve been so good for me. And good behaviour gets rewarded.”

Hero’s eyes widened. “I can sleep now?”

“Yes darling,” Villain said with a smile in his voice. Hero settled back into her seat, resting her head against the soft, leather headrest.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Villain smiled into the darkness. “My pleasure.”

Hero was asleep before she heard the words, for the first time in two weeks, her mind, blissfully, switched off.

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qin-qin16 · 3 days ago

Text

I'm glad you liked it :3c That was a LONG critique about what I wrote, but I loved the comments heheh

It's easier for me to talk about Murder Time Trio by putting them under Nightmare's command (not as BSP, take that BSP away from me), because, for now, it's the only way I think they would meet each other — and also the most famous, let's face it. I took the headcanon that Kei would teach both Horror and Murder how to survive around Nightmare from @/howlsofbloodhounds, because it's something he was ordered to do — it’s his duty to teach the new tools what to do, and Kei is responsible for any mistakes they make, because he’s the one who taught them

But over time, I think Kei would come to enjoy teaching them things, especially activities he usually does in secret when Nightmare sends them somewhere to cause more negativity — like golden flower teas or coin tricks.

And yes, what they are suffering is slavery (I don’t remember writing Horror referring to what they do as work, but I’m sure I did when I wrote that at 2 in the morning lol); it’s unpaid work, with the worst possible conditions and environment, and against their will. HOWEVER, I think they would see it as a “““““job””””” as a coping mechanism, to make them think they still have a bit of freedom, that they’re still living beings and not property.

A point I thought about while reading your analysis of my text: Nightmare chose Murder precisely to disrupt the balance that was happening between Kei and Horror — even if it was minimal, Nightmare didn’t want his tools to get along to the point of creating positive feelings.

Horror doesn’t show it, but he is grateful for Kei’s teachings (grateful yeeeeah, he at least admits to himself that he’d be dead if it was just him and Nightmare), while at the same time, he thinks Killer is a complete abomination — more because he can see the human in Killer as well, that red soul gives him chills, even though, over time, he’s come to even admire it somehow.

I won’t say much about Murder because he appears more in part two (tee hee), but he and Horror will get closer after Kei’s departure from the group (or rather, his escape).

Murder Time Trio as a poly... or something else

NOTE: This was supposed to be a relationship chart, but I couldn't find any that I liked, and I got frustrated trying to make one, SO I decided to do it in the form of text and headcanons and is slighty ooc because i can’t write them realistic, its against my policy

Before I elaborate on my thoughts about Murder Time Trio poly, I will present to you a summary of the BACKGROUND that I will use for my upcoming discussions about this trio.

In this post I share a bit about that thought and there is this au created by @what-have-i-unleashed named Mermaid Bunny AU, you can find it on their pinned post (is focused on kist in some parts, read the warnings before reading!)

However, since that post I made was more focused on Killer, I will also comment on the other parts of this relationship below!!

NOTE²: To avoid confusion, the first Killer will be called Kei (as a way to start fresh, he chose to abandon the name given to him after his code was altered), while the second Killer will simply be called Killer, as he has neither the desire nor the order to change the title given to him – a title his best friend, his partner, gave him. That being said, let’s move on to their background

HORROR'S ARRIVAL

Horror was the second to arrive, dragged by the slimy tentacles against his will – Kei vaguely remembers hearing his screams calling for someone, spitting threats at Nightmare as if he had no fear for his own life. He didn’t even notice his soul subtly writhing when Nightmare did nothing but toss the skeleton at his feet. "Show him his new home." Those were the orders he heard, and not even a minute later, they were already walking through the abandoned place (whatever it was, the hallways were too long to be considered part of a house, and the rooms were dark enough to make Horror question the things he saw inside them).

It wasn't for lack of trying that their almost-friendship was created – as fragile as a thin twig. Kei had been ordered to teach Horror everything he knew: what Nightmare liked to hear when they returned from missions, how to act when spotted by any resident of the universe they were exploring, what not to do when the hallways of their home (Kei called that dreadful place home, even though it was worse than the hell Horror said Snowdin was) seemed to grow darker and darker, how to ignore the torn and moldy paintings when they appeared to move in the shadows… Everything Kei had learned, he passed on to Horror, but like a mule being whipped to carry its load, Horror would always stall at the most important moments.

Like the time he screamed to go back home, for Nightmare to throw him back into the deep hole that was his past problems. Kei never heard Horror mention his old home again after that night – at least, not while Horror was conscious; only on nights when he finally fell asleep, so light that even the faintest sound would bring that red orb back to life. Of course, Kei knew this – who else but him would keep an eye on his copy to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid? He had to check and act as the loyal right-hand man he was. It wasn’t as if Horror was the only somewhat safe company for him there, no – he couldn’t allow himself to get attached to someone that he would abandon at the first chance he gets.

But Kei could be a little selfish, couldn’t he? Horror was selfish too when he claimed the least uncomfortable bed would be his when they were traveling, or when he shrugged whenever Kei questioned the disappearance of some witnesses who had seen them lurking too close to AUs near the Omega Timeline. Or when Horror got too close to his body on freezing nights, trembling after hours of walking through the thick snow surrounding their home. “This thing is warm.” He pointed at the circle in front of Kei's chest, seeming to hesitate – or not wanting – to call it a soul.

Kei could be selfish if Horror was the one to blame for making it impossible for him to sleep in separate rooms after that.

MURDER'S ARRIVAL

Horror never thought that a third member would be added to the chaotic and dysfunctional duo that was him and Kei. From what he could hear through the poorly closed and fallen door of the room where Kei and Nightmare often argued about their performance, the boss (even though Horror would never call him that) never mentioned anything about adding another screw-up monster like them to the group.

But it wasn't as if Nightmare cared about their opinion on anything, or even cared about their existence - as long as they stayed alive, that was enough.

Murder's entrance was so different from his, so much more... silent. No sudden movements, no explosion of LV, nothing but incomprehensible murmurs beneath that dark hood. If Horror thought Kei was unpredictable and full of weird traits, Murder had just stolen his place. It wasn't as if Horror was a healthy or sane person either, but Murder was an extreme even for him: clothes covered in monster dust, eyes — when lit — always twitching, looking side to side as if others were in the room besides the three of them.

And it was agonizing to see someone so similar to his former self — when there was no danger around them, or when Murder seemed to finally relax those pale bones, those two little lights would glow in white, in a nostalgic way. Horror didn’t like that feeling. Kei was another one who seemed out of place with Murder’s addition to their little group.

“You’re real…” he murmured between laughs — an almost undistorted reflection of himself.

It was hard to adapt Murder into their already chaotic and unpredictable routine, almost like caging an euphoric animal alongside two others already in captivity — the rare calm of before was quickly torn apart by Murder's trembling and impatient presence. As sadistic as the last one, Kei once commented, referring to Horror, who just scoffed and mumbled something like "don’t compare me to that..." It wasn’t a good start between them, definitely.

And no matter how much Horror tried to deny it and even fight with himself, he wasn’t so different from the other two. Nightmare’s motivation in handpicking each of them was clear — it almost had a bitter kind of charm to it, if it weren’t so inconvenient. At least he and Murder seemed to want to be as far away as possible from there, but Kei? Why was he so loyal to that demon?

Horror never knew Kei’s deep desire to escape that hell, to crush Nightmare’s rotten soul underfoot like an insignificant insect. At least, Kei never confessed it to them specifically. No, no.

"As if I care who you talk to outside of work..." Horror once huffed, sounding strangely genuine. "If you want to chat with that rainbow skeleton, that's your problem, don't drag us into your issues, capiche?" And so Kei did.

Part two is on their way~

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