#golden eye snapper

[laur-kay]

[theopalempress]

Sashimi - The Opal Empress

[angelnoe9]

Love beyond Deepspace

Chapter 7: Stillness of the Night

Summary of the chapter:

Vacation may be over, but a cozy night in his arms before going back to boring daily life makes it better?

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The sun had dipped below the horizon by the time you and your friends returned to the hotel. The fading light painted golden reflections across the polished floors as you entered the lobby, the soft hum of conversation and clinking glasses spilling from the nearby restaurant.

Your group decided to skip the hassle of heading back out into the city. The hotel’s restaurant, after all, was well-known for its seafood menu—and none of you needed convincing.

You settle into a cozy booth near the window, your legs aching in that satisfying way after a long day of wandering. The sea breeze slips in through a crack in the tall windows, mingling with the scent of grilled fish, buttered shellfish, and seaweed broth.

As the dishes begin to arrive—steamed mussels glistening in garlic butter, grilled squid with a spicy glaze, crab soup thick and fragrant—you feel your stomach rumble with anticipation. Laughter and the clinking of utensils fills the space around you, a comforting backdrop to the warmth of shared company.

Then, without warning, your thoughts drift.

Seafood. You pause mid-bite, the rich flavor of grilled snapper melting on your tongue.

Rafayel would love this.

The memory slips in so naturally, you don’t even realize you’re smiling at first. You picture him again—his eyes glowing in the dim light, sitting cross-legged on that soft white chair, his voice teasing yet somehow tender.

It’s strange, how certain things linger. How even a plate of food can pull someone back into your thoughts with such ease. The world around you is filled with chatter and clinking cutlery, yet all you can think about is how vividly you remember him—how his presence could fill a space even in silence.

Your gaze drifts to the seafood platter between you and your friends, the scent and flavor suddenly tinged with something softer, more personal. A little pang settles in your chest.

He’s not here.

Not really.

And yet, the thought of him feels closer than ever.

You stir your spoon slowly in the crab soup, wondering if he’d have laughed at the way your nose crinkled from the spicy heat. Would he have ordered for you, nudging a dish closer with a smug “You’ll like this one”? Or insisted on stealing bites from your plate, only to pout dramatically when you caught him?

A gentle bump on your shoulder pulls you back to reality. One of your friends is offering you a piece of grilled octopus with a grin. "You’ve gone quiet again. Thinking about secret boyfriend?"

You choke a little on your soup, heat rising to your face. “I am not—”

They just laugh, and you quickly reach for your water, hiding behind the glass.

But even as the teasing continues and your friends dive back into their meal, you can’t shake the thought of him.

Rafayel Somewhere between pixels and memory, fantasy and feeling, he lingers like the taste of sweet melon on your tongue—unexpected, lingering, and real in all the ways that matter.

And for just a second, you imagine him here—seated beside you, fingers curled loosely around his fork, eyes sparkling with quiet amusement as if he knows exactly what you're thinking.

The moment passes, but the warmth in your chest remains.

Later that night, full from dinner and drowsy from the long day, you return to your room with the quiet hush of the hallway wrapping around you like a blanket. The city outside glows faintly through the curtains, neon signs casting slow, pulsing shadows against the walls.

You toss your bag onto the chair and sink onto the edge of the bed, letting out a long breath. Your feet ache, your shoulders are sore—but your mind is elsewhere, still lingering at that dinner table, still tracing the outline of a memory that feels both impossibly distant and unbearably close.

It’s been a hectic day, and you’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone check your phone. But now, as the evening settles in and the world outside your window softens into twilight, you finally find a moment.

You plug your phone in and swipe through notifications—nothing urgent. Just the usual buzz of daily life. But then, your thumb pauses over the game’s icon.

You haven’t opened it in a while. Not since... well, not since you had arrived at the hotel.

You open the game, the familiar soft chime greeting you as the screen comes to life. You haven't had time to check in for a while, but today, you need your daily ritual—just a quick look, a moment to feel grounded.

The home screen loads, and there he is.

Rafayel

Standing casually, his dark purple hair tousled just enough to look effortless. His eyes meet yours, and that soft, knowing smile spreads across his lips. His white collared shirt is slightly open at the top, hinting at something casual, something inviting. His posture is relaxed, hands in his pockets, leaning against nothing but the air itself.

The soft lighting wraps around him, giving his figure a subtle warmth, and the muted background seems to fade away, as if it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is him, standing there, waiting.

"I will be here for you whenever you want to talk," his voice line appears, smooth and steady, like a gentle promise hanging in the quiet space between you and the screen.

You can’t help but smile, the words resonating in a way you didn’t expect. It's comforting, even if you know it’s just a scripted line.

“Thanks, Rafayel,” you whisper, your thumb brushing the screen as if that could somehow bridge the gap between the digital world and the real one.

For a moment, the illusion feels almost real. You watch his eyes, soft and patient, and it feels like he’s waiting, just for you. Maybe you’ll talk to him about today, or just listen to his calming voice.

“I had seafood tonight,” you whisper, even though you know he can’t hear. “You would’ve liked it.”

A faint knock sounds through the shared wall—one of your friends checking in. You answer them with a quiet "All good," and glance back at your screen.

Rafayel hasn’t moved. But something in his gaze feels different. The smirk has faded, replaced with something softer. Quieter.

You hesitate, then close the app.

The screen dims, and your reflection stares back at you—tired eyes, a lingering smile, and something unspoken resting behind your ribs.

You slip under the covers, the sounds of the city outside blending with the low hum of the AC. And as sleep begins to pull you under, you swear you hear his voice again—gentler now, like the memory of salt in sea breeze.

“Next time… save a bite for me.”

You smile.

And somewhere between dreams and digital echoes, you carry him with you—soft as water, fleeting as moonlight, but real.

Real enough.

The morning light filters through the curtains, soft and golden, pulling you from your dreams. For a moment, the world is still, quiet—a brief space where the memory of last night lingers like a delicate thread between sleep and wakefulness.

Your phone buzzes beside you, snapping you into the present. It’s a message from one of your friends: “Rise and shine! We’re heading out for breakfast, then the amusement park. Last day here! Let’s make it count!”

You stretch and yawn, pushing the lingering thoughts of Rafayel aside for now. There’s no time for that today. You quickly pull yourself out of bed, the excitement of the day ahead settling into your bones as you get ready. You can already feel the energy of your friends bubbling through the group chat as they finalize plans.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel, you and your friends venture out into the city, the crisp morning air feeling like a fresh start. The streets are lively with locals and tourists alike, the hum of city sounds mixing with laughter and music drifting from street vendors and performers.

You wander through the bustling market, the stalls offering colorful fruits, handmade trinkets, and delicious smells that make your stomach rumble. The excitement is contagious as you and your friends snap pictures, trying to capture the moment and your wide grins as you sample local delicacies. There’s the sweet and tangy fruit from a vendor whose stall is packed with vibrant colors, soft bread filled with gooey fillings, and sizzling skewers of meats cooked right in front of you.

Then, it’s off to the amusement park, where the air smells of popcorn and cotton candy, and the clatter of roller coasters and laughter fills the sky. You and your friends race to the rides, faces lit up with excitement as you scream your way through loops and turns. The day is spent in a blur of thrills and fun: trying the craziest rides, posing for goofy pictures, and losing track of time as you wander through arcades and snack stands.

By the time the sun starts to dip low on the horizon, you’re all ready for the next part of the day—something that’s become a must for every trip you take together.

The beach.

As the first stars twinkle in the sky, you and your friends set up a bonfire, the crackling flames warm against the cool evening air. The scent of saltwater mingles with the smoke, and laughter rises into the night, joining the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore. You all gather around the fire, roasting marshmallows, sharing stories, and taking in the last few moments before the trip comes to an end.

With your feet buried in the sand, you lean back to watch the flames dance, your thoughts drifting for a moment. The day had been full—full of excitement, joy, and the kind of memories that would last a lifetime. But somewhere in the back of your mind, a familiar thought flits through again.

Rafayel.

You smile softly, the quiet memory of his voice and that promise hanging in your mind.

But tonight, with the sound of laughter and the warmth of good company surrounding you, you push it aside for now. You have this moment, and that’s enough.

As the fire crackles, you hear one of your friends call out, “Group photo time!”

Everyone gathers around the fire, the orange glow lighting up your faces as you pose and laugh for the camera. In the corner of your vision, the ocean stretches out into the night, the waves lapping softly against the shore.

Tomorrow, you’ll return to your home, but tonight, you’re here. And that’s all that matters.

The night winds down, the sound of the bonfire crackling slowly fading into the distance as the laughter of your friends begins to quiet. You feel the warm buzz of contentment from the day’s adventures, your heart full of the fun and memories.

As you sit back, the cool breeze ruffling your hair, you pull your phone from your pocket, your usual evening ritual calling you. The glow of the screen lights up your face as you unlock it, and instinctively, you open the game.

The familiar chime greets you, soft and welcoming, and the home screen slowly loads.

This time, it��s Xavier.

His short, light-colored hair frames his face with delicate wisps, the darker undertones adding a mysterious touch to his otherwise soft appearance. His light-colored eyes seem to look straight at you, sharp and clear, as if he's studying you from across the screen. His light-colored button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, seems effortlessly casual, and the grey pants with a black belt only add to his understated, yet sharp appearance. The warm indoor setting behind him—furniture, shelves, and a potted plant—feels cozy, almost like you’re peeking into a quiet space of his own.

Just as you’re about to do the daily routine of the game, you hear a voice behind you.

“Hey, is that the game you’re playing?”

You turn your head slightly, startled, and look up to find a guy standing just behind you, leaning slightly over the back of your seat. His friendly smile is accompanied by a casual curiosity in his eyes as he watches you play.

"Yeah," you answer, a little taken aback. "Just a game I like."

He steps closer, glancing at the screen as if he's trying to figure out what exactly has you so captivated. "It looks cool," he says, chuckling a little. "Mind if I ask you something?"

Your friends, who had been sitting nearby chatting and laughing, immediately catch the shift. One of them winks at you, and another smirks.

"Uh-oh," one of them teases, a sly grin on their face. "Looks like someone's got a fan."

"Go on, ask her," another one chimes in, nudging you playfully. "We’ll cheer you on!"

The guy seems a bit hesitant but leans in a little. “I know this is kinda random, but… can I get your number? And maybe your social media? I just thought you seemed interesting, and I’d love to stay in touch.”

Your friends erupt into teasing cheers, their voices a mix of amusement and playful excitement.

"Ooooh, look at you," one of them calls out. "Making connections!"

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the grin tugging at your lips. The moment is silly but fun, your heart racing slightly from the unexpected attention. You glance back at the screen one more time, where Xavier’s gentle expression still lingers.

“Maybe next time,” you say with a wink, enjoying the brief sense of power in the playful exchange. “But, thanks for the offer.”

Your friends burst out laughing, some pretending to cheer like they were at a sporting event. One of them claps dramatically, making exaggerated slow clap motions.

“Nice,” they say, still teasing. “She plays it cool.”

You can’t help but laugh along, shaking your head. The guy, slightly embarrassed but still smiling, waves it off with a shrug. “Guess I’ll take that as a ‘maybe.’”

“Better luck next time,” you tease, winking at him.

He laughs, shaking his head as he walks away, leaving you with your friends who are now full-on teasing you with exaggerated sighs and comments.

“Smooth," one of them says. "I see you playing the game and playing the field.”

You stick your tongue out at them but can’t keep the smile off your face. In the end, the night continues with more laughter, the warmth of the bonfire still radiating through the air. Even though it’s just a silly moment in the grand scheme of things, it’s the kind of memory that will stick with you—the kind of night you’ll remember with fondness, even long after you’re back to your everyday routine.

It’s been a perfect day, filled with laughter, new experiences, and memories that you know will stay with you long after this trip ends.

Your friends are still joking around, teasing you about the guy earlier, but you can’t help the smile that lingers on your face. Even as they continue to poke fun at you, you’re wrapped in a sense of happiness, a sense of peace you didn’t expect.

Eventually, you all make your way back to the hotel. The cool night air greets you as you step into the lobby, your feet sore but your heart light. The exhaustion of the day hits you all at once, and within minutes, everyone’s settling in for the night, eager to get some rest before the early flight the next morning.

The room is quiet, the soft hum of the city outside muffled by the windows, as you slip into bed. You set your alarm, knowing the morning will come all too soon. The sheets are cool against your skin, and for a moment, you think about the adventures you’ve had, the faces you’ve seen, and the memories you’ve made.

The quiet of the hotel room lulls you into a deep, peaceful sleep.

The morning arrives quicker than expected, the shrill sound of your alarm pulling you out of a deep sleep. You stretch and groan as the group stirs around you, all of you begrudgingly getting ready for the early morning flight. There’s no time to linger in the comfort of the hotel room, no time for reflection—just the rush of gathering your things, double-checking your passport, and ensuring you didn’t leave anything behind.

The airport has a feeling of finality as you make your way through check-in, grabbing a quick breakfast at a café, and then navigating through security. A quiet sadness settles over you as you glance back at the airport terminal, realizing that the place that’s been home for the last few days is now behind you. The adventure is officially over.

The conversations around you feel a little quieter now, as your friends, too, come to terms with the end of the trip. You board the plane, and the excitement of the past few days gives way to a peaceful calm as the final chapter of this adventure begins to close.

This time, there’s no surreal fall from the sky, no sudden, jolting moment of shock. The flight is smooth, the view from the window a peaceful, hazy stretch of blue sky as the plane ascends toward home.

As you look out the window, your mind drifts back to the trip—the moments of laughter, the stories shared, and the things you tried for the first time. You think about how these memories will stay with you, even as life pulls you back into its routine.

Before you know it, the plane is descending, and your home airport comes into view. You feel a small but steady sense of peace settle over you, your feet about to touch familiar ground once again. The trip may be over, but it’s a memory you’ll always carry with you.

When the plane finally comes to a stop, there’s a quiet sense of contentment. The adventure is behind you, but the memories remain, and that’s something no plane ride can take away.

You breathe in the air of home, the familiar surroundings of your apartment greeting you as you step inside. The soft hum of the city outside filters through the windows, but it's the quiet comfort of your own space that settles over you.

The trip is over, but the memories remain, tucked away in the corners of your mind, ready to be revisited whenever you want. As you set your bag down and glance around the room, you feel a sense of calm wash over you. It's good to be back, even if just for a moment, before the routine of everyday life takes over again.

The moment you drop your bag by the door, the exhaustion hits you all at once. You barely manage to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto your bed. The familiar scent of your pillow, the coolness of the sheets—it all wraps around you like a lullaby.

You don’t remember closing your eyes.

When you wake again, the sky outside your window is painted in soft shades of evening, the last golden rays of sunlight slipping beneath the horizon. For a moment, you forget where you are. Then it all settles back in—home. You're back home.

With a groggy stretch and a yawn, you drag yourself into the bathroom, shedding the remnants of travel. The shower is a welcome reset, warm water chasing away the stiffness in your limbs and the weight of the long day. You linger there a while, letting it soothe you.

Fresh and clean, wrapped in the comfort of your favorite clothes, you step into the kitchen. It’s quiet, but not lonely. You move around the space with ease, the rhythm of home falling back into place. Soon, the smell of something warm and comforting fills the air.

Dinner is simple—nothing extravagant, but it hits the spot. You sit at your usual place by the window, watching the city lights blink to life as you eat. There’s a quiet peace in the air, like the world has slowed just for you.

After dinner, you clear your plate and rinse it absentmindedly, your body moving through the motions like muscle memory. A long sigh leaves your lips as you head into the bathroom, flipping on the light. You brush your teeth slowly, your eyes heavy, your thoughts distant—still half in the clouds of sleep, half grounded in the quiet peace of being back home.

You finish, rinse, and reach for the door handle.

But when you open it—

You freeze.

It’s not your room.

The soft amber glow of a bedside lamp greets you, casting gentle shadows against familiar walls. You take one slow step forward, and then another, drawn in by the warmth and quiet intimacy of the space. You know this room.

Xavier’s room.

The sloped ceiling arches overhead, the same one you remember. To your right, tall windows reveal a tapestry of city lights twinkling in the dark, their reflections stretching across the polished wooden floor. The air feels still here, calm. Safe. The scent is familiar too—something clean, faintly earthy, and undeniably him.

The bed rests against the far wall, the wooden frame blending with the darker tones of the room. And there he is.

Xavier

He’s lying on his side, half-curled under the covers, one arm tucked beneath his head. The soft light from the lamp washes over him, highlighting the delicate curve of his jaw, the way his light-colored hair fans out slightly against the pillow. His chest rises and falls in an even rhythm, completely at peace.

You don’t want to wake him.

Quietly, you pad across the room and sit gently beside him on the edge of the bed. The comforter shifts slightly under your weight. You glance around—the floating shelves still hold the same books, a small potted plant rests beside a framed photo. Everything is just as you remember.

Your gaze returns to him.

In this light, Xavier almost doesn’t look real. Like something out of a dream—beautiful, serene. You don’t even realize your hand is moving until your fingers graze lightly across his cheek, brushing a strand of hair from his face.

He stirs.

Slowly, his eyes blink open, that soft, light gaze locking onto you. For a breathless second, he just looks at you, unblinking.

Then his arms move—gentle, unhurried—as he pulls you down beside him and into his warmth.

You don’t resist.

He wraps himself around you, his touch firm yet tender, anchoring you to him in the quiet glow of the night. His voice, low and still touched by sleep, barely breaks the silence.

“…You came back.”

There’s no need for words. You simply lean in, resting your forehead gently against his chest, where the steady rhythm of his heartbeat greets you like a familiar song. It’s grounding, calming—like everything in the world has quieted down just for this moment.

Outside the window, the city lights flicker softly, casting a faint glow across the room. The world beyond feels distant, almost unreal. But here, wrapped in the gentle hush of the lamplight and the warmth of his arms, everything feels right.

And for the first time in a long while, you don’t feel the need to go anywhere.

You’re exactly where you want to be.

Still tucked in his embrace, you feel his fingers gently shift along your back, but there’s a slight pause—just enough to tell something’s on his mind.

“…So,” Xavier murmurs, voice low and casual—but not quite casual enough. “That guy at the beach. The one who asked for your number.”

You blink, then tilt your head up to look at him.

He’s not looking at you at first—his gaze is fixed somewhere above, like he’s trying to play it cool. But the slight pout on his lips and the way his brows dip in the middle give him away. When he finally meets your eyes, there’s a mix of playful jealousy and a quiet vulnerability behind them. His expression is almost childlike, soft and a little sulky, like a puppy that just got scolded for no reason.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “Xavier… were you jealous?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he gently tightens his arms around you, pulling you closer again until your nose nearly brushes his collarbone.

“…No,” he mutters into your hair. “I just didn’t like how he looked at you.”

You smile, heart fluttering. His honesty is endearing, but it’s that slightly grumpy tone that makes it even cuter.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze again, brushing your fingers through his hair. “You know I didn’t give him my number, right?”

“I know,” he mumbles, eyes glancing away again, still wearing that soft sulk. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

And gods, he’s too cute like this—jealous, quiet, and all yours.

You can’t stop smiling. The way he sulks without fully admitting it, all while holding you so close, like you might slip away if he lets go for even a second—it tugs at your heart in the gentlest way.

“Mm, you’re pouting,” you tease softly, tracing a slow circle on his chest with your finger. “You say you’re not jealous, but your pout says otherwise.”

“I’m not pouting,” he mutters, but the slight rise in his cheeks betrays him.

You press a kiss just under his jaw. “You’re totally pouting. It’s adorable.”

Xavier sighs, dramatic and resigned. “You really are dangerous.”

You lift your head slightly, eyes glinting with mischief. “Because I noticed your pout?”

“No,” he murmurs, brushing his nose against yours. “Because you make me want things I’ve never let myself want before.”

Your heart skips. But before the moment can grow too heavy, you lean in and kiss the tip of his nose, giggling when he blinks at you.

“I want things too,” you whisper. “Like staying in bed with you all day. Like stealing all your blankets and making you chase me for them.”

“You’d freeze without me,” he says with a soft smirk, pulling you closer, your bodies now fully pressed together. “I’m the only heater you’re allowed to use.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Is that so?”

“It’s law now,” he says, nosing into your hair. “Punishable by more cuddles if you try to rebel.”

You pretend to consider that, then snuggle in even tighter, tucking your legs against his. “Mmm. I surrender.”

“Good,” he hums. “You’re safer here anyway.”

His fingers find yours under the blanket, gently lacing them together. He brings your joined hands up to his lips and places the softest kiss to your knuckles. Then another. Then one to your wrist. Lazy, tender, lingering kisses that make your breath hitch every time.

Xavier's fingers trace the soft lines of your hand, his touch gentle and languid as if he's trying to memorize every detail. You smile at the quiet affection, feeling your body settle deeper into his warmth. The world outside seems a million miles away, and here, under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, everything feels... still.

“You always know how to get your way, don’t you?” you murmur, your voice sleepy, trailing off as your eyelids grow heavy.

His chest rumbles with a soft chuckle, his breath warm against your hair. "Maybe," he says, his voice dropping low, affectionate. "But I don't mind being a little sneaky if it means getting to hold you like this."

You let out a contented sigh, turning your face so your cheek rests on his chest. His hand moves to the small of your back, the warmth of his palm grounding you. His thumb rubs small circles against your skin, soothing and calming.

"I could fall asleep like this forever," you whisper, barely able to keep your eyes open.

"Then do it," he replies, his voice barely above a murmur. "Stay here with me. Let’s just... be."

For a few moments, there's nothing but the sound of your combined breaths and the soft rustling of the sheets as you both settle into the cozy silence. Xavier's arm tightens around you slightly, pulling you even closer, his lips brushing your forehead in a soft, tender kiss.

You drift in and out of sleep, comforted by his presence, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful drowsiness. The city lights flicker softly outside, casting a warm glow across the room, but inside, there’s only the warmth of his embrace, the soft press of his lips against your skin, and the quiet contentment of being exactly where you are.

And as sleep finally begins to take over, you can’t help but smile, your last conscious thought filled with the quiet joy of this moment, knowing that for now, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

Xavier’s gaze softens as he watches you sleep, the dim light from the lamp casting a warm glow across your face. His heart beats steadily, the calm rhythm of it matching the rise and fall of your chest. There’s something so peaceful about the way you’re tucked into his arms, and for a moment, he can’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude that you’re here, in his space, in his life.

His thumb lightly strokes the back of your hand, a small but intimate gesture that makes him feel connected to you in the quietest of ways. But then, his thoughts shift—your soft, inviting lips, barely an inch from his, so close, so... tempting.

Xavier’s breath catches in his throat, and before he can second-guess himself, he leans down slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb the serenity of the moment. His lips brush softly against yours, a delicate, feather-light kiss that lingers for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

He pulls away just enough to look at you again, but there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, a barely contained smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You taste like everything I’ve been waiting for,” he whispers, though he knows you’re already half-asleep, lost in the comfort of his embrace.

His hand gently cups the back of your head, pulling you back toward him. This time, the kiss is deeper, a soft and lingering connection that leaves both of you breathless but with no rush to pull away. It’s a kiss that speaks of quiet longing, of love built on shared moments, even when words aren’t needed.

When he finally pulls back, he smiles softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Just one more,” he murmurs, sealing his words with another gentle kiss, this one more tender than before, the kind that says everything without speaking a single word.

And just like that, he feels at peace once more, knowing you’re here beside him, safe, warm, and completely his.

Xavier’s hands slide from your shoulders down to your waist, gently holding you closer as he deepens the kiss, the weight of your bodies pressed together more real than ever. His lips move with a softness that contrasts the intensity of the emotions swirling inside him, the warmth of your connection making everything else in the world fade into the background.

When he pulls away, it’s not out of need, but because he can’t help but smile at the sight of you in his arms. You’re still sleepy, your eyes half-lidded, but the way you look at him—so trusting, so open—makes his chest tighten with something he can’t quite name.

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his thumb grazing your cheek in a lingering touch. “You’re too beautiful for your own good, you know that?” he whispers, his voice a quiet, tender murmur against the soft sound of your breathing.

You respond with a sleepy smile, shifting just slightly to nestle closer, your body fitting into his as if it was always meant to. Xavier lets out a soft sigh, contentment washing over him in waves. He loves this quiet, this softness. He’s been through so much, but moments like this make everything else feel like a distant memory, something less important compared to what’s right here with you.

His fingers trace the curve of your arm, so gentle, so slow, as if he’s memorizing every inch of you. He can’t resist the urge to place another kiss, this time on your forehead, lingering there for a few seconds longer, breathing you in.

“There’s no place I’d rather be than here with you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your skin.

You hum softly, clearly too comfortable to reply with anything more than a contented sigh. He chuckles lightly, leaning in to press another kiss to your temple, feeling the weight of your trust, your closeness, in every moment.

And despite the softness of the night and the quiet that surrounds you both, Xavier knows deep down that these moments are the ones he holds closest to his heart—simple, sweet, and filled with everything he never thought he would get. You.

His hand rests gently on your waist, and he closes his eyes, letting sleep take him, knowing that you’re there, perfectly safe and warm, within his embrace.

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[goodlucktai]

only going up from here

rise of the tmnt word count: 4k pairing: leo & mikey i wrote this for one of my very favorite people and best friends, the bentley to my bookshop and ben to my sammy and mikey to my leo. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @mykimouser! i'm genuinely better off for having you in my life, it would be significantly darker around here without you. i hope your day is absolutely amazing and you're surrounded by people who love you and you get everything you want forever <3 title borrowed from bummerland by AJR read on ao3

x

If you asked Mikey if he was protective of Leo, he would say of course he is! He wouldn’t even have to think about it, what kind of question is that? He’s protective of everything and everyone he loves, and he loves all his siblings more than life itself.  

If you asked Mikey if he was overprotective of Leo, he would say whaaaat? I don’t—I think you’re breaking up actually, shhhcchhkkchhssh—and he’d artfully dodge the conversation by literally sprinting away from it.

The thing is, Mikey knows how annoying it is to have well-meaning loved ones go into hypervigilant mode anytime they come within a five-foot radius of your person. He’s been lobbying since he was twelve for Raph to take the kid gloves off! And throw them far away!! Down a deep hole that Donnie could fill with cement and Leo could plant fake biohazard warning signs around so that no one would ever dare excavate!! 

But Leo has always been independent, more than any of the rest of them. More than maybe he really wanted to be. He takes care of himself, like he has to—like there aren’t a half dozen people around him who would happily do it, who want to do it, who would jump at the first chance to prove that he can depend on them for anything. 

Mikey doesn’t know when Leo got this idea in his head that dealing with him is a chore but it’s an idea that grew up with him. That grew about ten feet taller after the Krang invasion. It’s always towering over them, keeping Leo even further from the people who love him with both its long unwanted arms. 

Sometimes Mikey can slink past those arms and find the hole that Leo hides in and climb in there with him. He’s the best at it, because he’s the smallest, and the one their enemy’s eyes tend to jump right over when they’re sussing out a fight. He can go places the others can’t. And it’s a rule of the universe that once he gets within hugging distance of his brothers, they’re compelled at a molecular level to hug him. 

When they’re holed up together, in that place Leo goes to when he’s alone, it gets a little warmer but it’s still cold. It feels like one of those early winter mornings when the shadows are the longest and darkest and cover more ground than they do the rest of the year and Mikey is just waiting for that spring thaw. He’s been waiting for what feels like forever, but he knows it’ll come. He knows it will.

Two months after the invasion, the sun peeks out.  

“I’m going to tío’s,” Leo announces to the lair, one foot out the door already. 

There’s an immediate crash from the lab, and the familiar sound of a weighted barbell falling on a snapper’s chest from the dojo, as two older brothers scramble to either throw their entire weight into stopping him somehow (impossible) or at least convince him that one of them should tag along (more likely, but Leo would not be happy about it). 

Mikey scrambles from his upside-down seat on the sofa to poke his head over the back of it and call out, “Can I come?” 

Leo glances back down the hall, probably calculating the seconds until his quick escape is botched, but then he looks back at Mikey with that crooked, mischievous smile that’s been Mikey’s favorite since he was two.

“Grab your shoes, Miguelito. We’re prison breaking.” 

“Gimme two shakes!” Mikey says over his shoulder, already bolting for his room. 

Mikey’s arms have mostly healed up from the golden portal he opened into the Prison Dimension. There isn’t a crack or a scar left but the lingering nerve damage is killer. The colorful custom arm braces that Draxum sourced for him help a lot and he’s good about remembering to wear them—so there is really no reason for their entire family to be such worrywarts about it. Especially when Don’s shell is still too tender for battle armor and Raph’s lucky he can still see out of his right eye. 

“It’s because you’re both the babies,” April said a few weeks into their collective recovery period, poking Mikey right on the beak that he had wrinkled in frustration. “The youngest in the whole clan. Even Casey Jr.’s older than you two. Deal with it.” 

Donatello is technically a month older than his twin, not that either of them care about pesky things like birth dates. They’re twins in their souls. Even though that means Leo has to grit his teeth and plot convoluted revenge when Donnie dares play the older twin card. 

But also, Mikey knows even though no one has come out and said it, they’re the two who scared the rest of their family the most. 

Donnie and Raph did what they had to do because it was their direct responsibility. Donnie was the only person alive who could have piloted the Technodrome with some degree of success even without his ninpo-powered technopathy. And Raph gave Leo his escape pod because his top priorities have always started and ended with his little brothers. If there had been another way out, he would have taken it. 

Mikey was willing to disintegrate to get Leo out, holding that portal open even though it hurt, even though every ounce of instinct and intuition was telling him to let go, even though he had no way of really knowing it would work the way he wanted it to. Leo threw himself feet first into hell for the rest of them and came out the other side broken and bleeding and traumatized, and he wasn’t sorry he did it. He would do it again, and again, and again. 

So—Mikey gets it. He does. 

It doesn’t stop him from cramming his Jordans on and snatching up the nearest hoodie—pink; he never gave that back to Raphie, oops. He whirls around to find Leo in his doorway, sword slung over his shoulder, weight braced on the neon blue foldable crutch in his opposite arm. 

“Little rowdy back there,” Leo says peacefully, regarding the state of chaos in the lair as their older brothers actively hunt them down. “Let’s take off from here.”

“You got it, boss,” Mikey chirps, hopping in place as he ties his shoe. 

The cyan portal opens as easily as April opens her bedroom window to usher them in for a movie night, bright and inviting. Having opened a portal of his own, Mikey has a brand-new appreciation for how incredible Leo’s ninpo is. He’s never hesitated to hop right through, even back when Leo was still getting the hang of it—either he’ll go where he’s meant to, or he’ll have a fun adventure wherever he does end up. Literally win-win. 

He steps out into Run of the Mill’s back of house. A harried server pauses mid-step to give him a strange look. Then she visibly clocks the blue of the portal behind him, rolls her eyes and continues on her way. Mikey beams at her retreating figure. She should know who Leo is, Leo is the best. 

Leo takes long enough to join him that Mikey has started poking around in the dry storage area. 

“Raph caught me,” Leo says faux-somberly. “I let him know we’d be home by dinner.” 

“With some calzones as a peace offering,” Mikey says with a nod, matching his grave tone. It makes Leo crack a smile, because it’s always charming to him when his siblings commit to the bit. 

“Can I please get through for a can of tomato paste,” a salamander yokai in an apron and unnecessary hairnet says loudly from behind them. Oh, they are kind of just hogging the whole doorway, huh?

“Weeeell, since you said please,” Leo replies, steering Mikey by the shoulders out of dry storage through the prep kitchen and out the employees-only door. 

Mikey ambles along agreeably, and accepts the hot basket of mozzy sticks Leo plops into his hands without questioning where it came from, and hops up into a seat at the bar since the dining room is pretty full. 

“I’m gonna go bug tío Hueso for a bit,” Leo says. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and if you do—”

“—deny everything and throw Draxum under the bus however I possibly can,” Mikey recites. He would never actually throw Draxum under the bus—unless it was a really funny bus—but they both know that so there’s no point bringing it up. 

“You’re my favorite,” Leo tells him. He knocks his knuckles on the bartop to get the attention of the rabbit yokai back there and wiggles his fingers in a wave when he has it. The yokai’s fur poofs a bit, like always, and he immediately drops the handful of forks he was holding with a noisy clatter. Then Leo whirls off to go make trouble elsewhere, crutch slowing him down not at all. 

The rabbit yokai is one Mikey knows pretty well from a hundred other afternoons just like this one. Usagi isn’t old enough to serve drinks, but he likes to roll silverware behind the bar so he can prop his phone up beneath the counter and watch TikToks. He always watches the Hamatos when they come in—maybe one Hamato in particular. 

It would probably make him less flustered around Leo if he knew that Leo’s entire family had a betting pool going on the two of them. Or maybe it would make it worse. Hmmmm. Mikey won’t mention it just in case. 

“Hi, Usagi,” Mikey says cheerfully, popping open the lid on the marinara sauce nestled into his ill-gotten gains. “Mozzy stick?”

“Hi, Mikey,” Usagi replies. “No, thanks. I’ve already eaten like a million garlic knots today and señor Hueso is making me take the leftover lasagna home since Auntie isn’t back until—” He cuts himself off, embarrassed. He always volunteers a ton of information and then wrongly assumes his friends don’t want to hear about all of that and reels himself back in. “Anyway! How are things?”

“Good!” Mikey says. “I’ve been one-hundred percenting all my Pokemon games since I’m stuck inside so much.”

Instead of remarking on that, or on the bright eye-catching colors of his arm braces, Usagi says, “Woah, even Diamond?”

“Yeah! Ohmigosh, I forgot to tell you, I caught Feebas!” Mikey pulls his phone out to show him proof, the victorious picture taken of his Switch screen. “I finally had to just lock in and totally ignore my phone for like two hours. Raph definitely thought I died when I didn’t reply to a meme Donnie sent in our group chat. Check it out!” 

Usagi leans over the bar to see and his reaction is everything Mikey could have hoped for. He gasps, “It’s a shiny?” 

“It’s a shiny!” Mikey hollers, then ducks his head a bit when the actual bartender gives the two of them a pointed look. Tucking his phone away, he says, “So what is your aunt up to? And what does it have to do with leftover lasagna?” 

“Oh! Well, she’s visiting with her sister, and I told her I could definitely fend for myself while she was gone, but yesterday there was kind of an incident with the microwave—”

Someone settles into a stool at Mikey’s right, and cuts right over Usagi to say, “Hey, Michael, right?”

Mikey glances over to find a really tall cat yokai, tawny fur with a black rosette pattern which makes Mikey think of a jaguar, except his ears are long and fluffy, and his face is distinctly more human than feline. 

“Half-right,” Mikey responds, frowning. “You just completely talked over my friend, bee tee dubs.”

“I’m sorry!” the cat is quick to apologize. “I didn’t realize you were friends, I thought he just worked here. You don’t mind, do you?” he adds to Usagi. 

Usagi has the deer-in-headlights look of someone thrust into a social interaction they Do Not Want To Have, and Mikey cringes a little at himself for it. Resolving to make it up to him later, he swivels in his seat to get the attention back on himself. 

“What’s up?” he says, hoping they can speedrun whatever this is. 

“I was just wondering how you’ve been since the invasion,” the cat says. “We haven’t seen you or your brothers around here much recently.” 

“Yeah, we’ve been spending more time at home,” Mikey says, the usual canned response they’ve taken to giving when their friends and associates wonder about their less frequent appearances lately. “We had some close calls but—you know, we won, so.” 

Usagi’s ear twitches, and his mouth turns down, and he gives the silverware he’s rolling his full attention. He has a lot of feelings about the Hamatos being involved in a huge fight that he was completely unaware of until it was long over. Mikey thinks he would have helped if they’d asked him to. He’d definitely do anything if Leo asked. But how could they ask? 

The cat yokai says, “Yeah, I saw the footage. Very impressive.” 

Mikey frowns and stops turning his seat back and forth. “Donnie—my brother wiped all the footage with us in it.” 

“I’m sure he did. But someone captured a few minutes of your battle on a scrying mirror and it made the rounds down here.”  

Ugh, magic, Mikey thinks with derision for the very first time in his life.

He makes a mental note to ask Draxum about how they can get rid of that footage, too. 

If Draxum doesn’t know, Big Mama will. Leo is her favorite. 

“Did I see Leonardo come in with you?” the yokai is saying, leaning in a little. “A few of my buddies and I, we were wondering if we could interest him in a proposal.”

A suspicious little animal in the back of Mikey’s brain sits up straight and starts paying attention. It’s weird that the guy guessed at Mikey’s name but knows Leo’s. It’s weird that he’s been paying attention to their comings and goings from the one place in the Hidden Cities they frequent regularly. And it’s weird that he has a proposal for a teenager.

On the other side of the bar, Usagi’s eyes are dark and watchful. He and Leo can talk shop about kenjutsu for hours at a time, and in this second Mikey doesn’t have trouble imagining Usagi with a sword in his hand. 

“Why?” Mikey says. 

“Those portals—I’ve never seen anything like it,” the cat says. “He could do so much with that ability. I’m sure he’s got people falling over themselves left and right to offer him work, but my employer could probably double any standing offers.” 

He still sounds surface-level friendly and admiring, but there’s a rot beneath it all, sickly-sweet. A greed. Mikey abruptly wants this guy at least one ocean and a language barrier away from himself and his big brother. 

Yeah, Leo’s portals are second-to-none. It’s incredible, the way he can think in three different places at once and account for every single sibling on the field like he’s playing 5D chess while everyone else is playing checkers. He makes it look easy because he’s Leo, and that’s what he does—he makes impossible stuff look like a breeze. Give his ninpo to a clown like this cat and they wouldn’t be able to accomplish a tenth of what Leo has in two years. Even if they had a hundred years. 

And Mikey can feel himself falling into that trap that Raphael so often falls into—that Donatello is guilty of tripping into now and then—the overprotective one. In the same second he thinks about how capable and cool Leo is, he’s thinking about how he would do anything to keep creeps like this away from him. He’s thinking about how Leo deserves to be around people who like him and appreciate him for him, and not for what he can do for them. 

“He’s sixteen,” Mikey says coldly. To him, sixteen feels very grown-up, but he makes sure to say it the way everyone else in his family constantly says it. “If he wanted a job, he’d work here.” 

“Oh, yes!” Usagi blurts. Then, “Uh, I mean, we’re hiring.” 

“A guy who can portal like that, taking pizza orders? Please,” the yokai says with an amiable grin, like they’re all in on the joke together. “Seriously, can I give you my card? Let him think about it. He could, uh—do some real good. For the community, you know? The Krang left a mark everywhere, even here. If he wanted to give back, there are lots of opportunities.” 

He takes a monochrome business card out of his wallet and slides it across the bar. Mikey doesn’t even look at it. He can feel himself getting really, properly angry. 

Leo’s too clever to get played, but he’s so guilt-motivated. He’s got that huge shadow hanging over him that convinces him so easily that he has all this stuff he has to make up for. He has all this love he has to earn. If this creep framed his job opportunity to Leo as a way to give back, to help people in the wake of an invasion he entirely blames himself for, then Leo would be lured right in. It wouldn’t even be hard. 

Michelangelo is so. Sick. Of this guy. 

“Can I just save you the time?” he says, smiling super brightly. “He’s not interested.”

The yokai’s smile fades a little, expression distinctly less friendly, but just for a second. He looks at something above Mikey’s head, and the smile stretches back out again. 

“I’ll wait to hear that from him,” the guy says, nodding to indicate something behind Mikey. 

Looking over his shoulder, Mikey sees Leo and Hueso chatting as they emerge from the office. Leo is waving his hand while he tells whatever story he’s telling, bright and animated, a far cry from that frightened boy they pulled out of the Prison Dimension. He feels safe here and he doesn’t have to put on a performance for anybody here and it shows. It’s why Raph let him go earlier without much of an argument. 

Mikey isn’t about to let anybody ruin it for him. 

Hueso wouldn’t exactly thank him for starting a brawl in his restaurant during the late lunch rush—and Mikey’s done a really good job of not getting banned this month! 

So sabotage it is. 

He’s the youngest of five—six, now, with the addition of Junior to their ranks—and when it comes to big, wounded eyes and crocodile tears to shake dad off his trail and throw another sibling under the bus, nobody does it better than him. 

Moving fast, Mikey pitches himself sideways off his seat. The stool clatters over noisily and Leo looks up in time to see Mikey hit the floor. Picture-perfect. 

“Ow!” he cries out, only half-faked. He did kind of land on one of his wrists a little too hard. 

“What the hell,” the yokai says dumbly. 

Leonardo is beside Mikey so fast, Mikey’s not one-hundred percent convinced he didn’t teleport himself there. He crouches, broken knee and all, and says, “Gravity two-hundred and eight, Angie zero.”

“No fair,” Mikey protests, sitting up. “It was two-hundred and two yesterday.” 

“Well, this wipe-out was embarrassing enough it’s worth multiple points.” 

Despite his teasing, Leo is entirely focused as he tests Mikey’s wrist for pain. When that doesn’t cause more than a wince, he pulls at the velcro straps until it’s loose enough to slide off. Mikey patiently endures Doctor Leon’s careful assessment of his arm, and buckles the brace back on when he’s allowed to. 

“What the heck happened?” Leo only asks when Mikey is helping him to his feet. 

“That guy pushed me down,” Mikey said immediately, head lowered enough that he has to look up more than usual to meet Leo’s eyes. 

“What?” the yokai snaps. “I didn’t push you down!”

“Sure, I just decided to fall down for no reason,” Mikey shoots back sarcastically. 

“That’s exactly what you did!” 

Leo glances at Usagi, the only eye-witness. Usagi says, to the cat yokai, “I saw the whole thing, man. You’re really gonna sit there and lie?”

Oh, we’re keeping you, Mikey thinks gleefully, almost forgetting to ham up his hurt expression. 

The cat yokai is definitely pissed off, but Leo stands up tall and steps in front of Mikey, his body language daring the guy to say one unkind word about his little brother. Hueso takes over before anything unfortunate can happen, encouraging the yokai to get his food to go and also to consider never coming back to this establishment since he thinks it’s acceptable behavior to bully a child, et cetera. All in a day’s work. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Mikey sees Usagi sweep the business card off the bar and probably into the trash somewhere behind it. 

They hang out at the bar for the rest of the afternoon. Usagi isn’t on the floor today, restocking and cleaning and running food instead, so he gets away with chatting and sneaking them free cranberries-on-the-rocks up until they leave. Leo finds out about the leftover lasagna situation and convinces the rabbit to come over for dinner, including a calzone for him in their take-home order to sweeten the deal.

“Uh,” Usagi says, “sure. Okay. That’d be—yeah.”

“Nice,” Leo says. He sounds way cooler about it than Mikey knows for a fact that he is on the inside. But that’s Leo to a tee—make it look easy. Don’t let anybody in on the big secret that you struggle, too. You have to unlock like fourteen friendship tiers before you get on the other side of all that. 

They portal most of the way to their favorite manhole back home, walking the final city block for a few extra minutes under the warm red evening sky. 

“So what happened with Puss in Boots back there?” Leo says apropos of nothing, when Mikey’s dramatic rendition of his capture of the Feebas and ultimate one-hundred percent completion of Brilliant Diamond has winded down. 

Mikey looks at him sidelong, but Leo is still looking ahead. He does kind of need to pay attention, the city sidewalks aren’t always clear, but that usually doesn’t stop him from looking at his brothers while they talk, to his brothers’ eternal exasperation. 

“I told you, he pushed me.”

“Uh-huh. And what actually happened?”

Ughhhhhh, Mikey has only fooled Leo like three times in his entire life, why did he automatically assume this would be success story number four? 

“That guy was weird,” Mikey mutters. He watches the ground while they walk, his untied shoelace flapping around with every step. “He knew about your portals and wanted stuff from you. He was super shady, Lee! He was like if Kingpin from the Spider-Man comics and Gaston from Beauty and the Beast had a baby. And were cats.”

Leo snorts, and Mikey jerks around so fast he’s not able to hide his smile in time. 

Aha! Mikey thinks, doing cartwheels in his mind. He laughed, I win!

“I’m not gonna let anybody walk all over you,” Mikey says, clenching one fist in front of him. “I know that you don’t need anybody looking out for you—believe me, I know.” They share a commiserating look, two little brothers against the world. Leo looks distinctly amused, like everything Mikey does is worth watching and bragging about later. “But I just love you so much, Leo. If this was a perfect world, everyone would love you as much as I do. But since that’s impossible, and no one will ever usurp me from my number one spot as your biggest fan, then I’ll settle for everyone at least liking you as much as I do. Which is still a pretty high bar, but it’s doable. If they just put the hours in, if they, you know, worked for it—”

“Oh my god, Miguel, stop,” Leo says, pushing at his shoulder. Mikey sways sideways with the push and comes right back, undeterred. 

“I’m unstoppable!” he hollers, lifting both arms and punching his fists up above his head. 

“Yeah,” Leonardo says, sounding like his old self again—sixteen years old, the whole world in his corner. “You’re the best.”

Mikey thinks he could do anything, he could light up the sky, he could punch a hole in the dimension, he could travel through time—he can definitely protect his brother. He’s the only person in the world who can get away with doing it, after all. That’s a big responsibility. Good thing Mikey is big enough to hold it. 

Daylight is only an afterthought in the sky now, all those rich autumn colors dimming into deep, vivid hues of purple and blue. The tunnel home is just around the corner, and they’ll have to reheat the food when they get there, but they’ll have to reheat Usagi’s anyway. 

When Leo reaches over and strings his arm around Mikey’s shoulders, Mikey adjusts his stride, shuffles his takeout bags to one hand, and puts his arm around Leo right back. 

“Thanks, Mike,” Leo says. “For being on my team. I know I don’t make it easy.”

“Your team is the only place I wanna be,” Mikey announces, when he’s sure his voice won’t wobble and give the wet sheen in his eyes away. “If you ever try to kick me out I will make your life a living hell. It seriously would not be worth it for you. Don’t tell Raph I said hell.”

Leo throws back his head and laughs for real. His crutch skids on a dead leaf and since they’re attached to each other they both stumble wildly and almost drop the calzones and get dirty looks from other Manhattanites. It’s the kind of moment that becomes the kind of memory that settles deep in the core of a person, never to be forgotten. 

And Mikey sees it—spring. The sun is finally coming out. Someday really soon, he thinks, those shadows that cling to Leo will have to find someone else to haunt. 

Until then, he can be sunshine enough for them both. 

[reyesstrand]

If you’re still doing them Maddie, I wish you would write a fic where TK cooks for Carlos for the first time 💖

The weight of a long shift—a week of them, all spilling into each other like dominos—digs into Carlos’ shoulders as he sighs and stretches his neck and thumbs the ridges of his house key before shoving it in the lock.

TK’s been texting him most of the day, just aimless, endearing tangents about a dream he had the night before and the cheesy medical procedurals available to him on streaming, along with a smiley selfie or two, and it’s kept him upright. Upright through the back-to-back domestic disturbances; the multi-vehicle pileups. Carlos didn’t want to bug him with talk of work when his boyfriend’s still on mandatory leave, but he thinks it’s been written on his face, lately, just how tired he is.

“Hey babe.”

Tired enough to not even register TK standing by the dining table, in a pair of dark jeans and t-shirt. His bandage pokes over the edge of his collar, and Carlos focuses on it like he always does; on how much is being held together with stitches and gauze, on how quickly a life—the most important life—could’ve been taken away. Carlos’ eyes drift up to his boyfriend’s face: the slight pinkness to his cheeks, the soft creases around his eyes.

“Hey,” Carlos says, stepping in close and accepting the hug TK pulls him into. “I thought we were meeting up tomorrow night.”

TK’s gaze is warm when he pulls back from the hug and instead cups Carlos’ face. “We still are. I just wanted to check in on you tonight.”

“I’m fine,” Carlos insists, reaching up to gently squeeze at TK’s wrists, sparing an extra second to feel the thrum of his pulse under his thumbs.

“Baby, you’re running on fumes.”

Carlos bites the inside of his cheek, allowing himself to absorb the pet name TK’s been using more and more; allowing himself to wonder what exactly gave himself away to his boyfriend.

“I thought you could use a night in,” TK continues, lacing their fingers together now so he can tug Carlos further into the house; into the kitchen, which he is just now noticing has been used. “The market didn’t have red snapper,” TK pauses, his eyes flashing with mischief as their gazes lock, “but the guy told me the salmon was super fresh. It needs like, two more minutes in the oven and then we can eat.”

Carlos takes it all in: the mixing bowl full of a salad, complete with roasted nuts and segments of citrus; the smell of garlic and onion; the candlelight filling the room. TK gives him a nervous little smile as he gently moves around him in the small space when the timer goes off, filling their plates with fluffy, herbed rice and filets topped with lemon slices.

“Let me help you,” Carlos says, finally finding his voice after watching his boyfriend in quiet wonder.

“I can handle two plates, babe,” TK teases, jerking his chin toward the dressed table. “Go sit. Let me take care of you for once, Reyes.”

He listens to TK and sits in his usual chair, imagining his boyfriend in his home, humming along to music blasting from his phone as he diced vegetables and prepped dozens of ingredients so it could all come together in time. It’s a sight he hopes to come home to forever. It’s a sight he hopes to witness; to be a part of, next time.

Once they’re across from each other, Carlos’ stomach growls. He’d barely had time for a protein bar in the first half of his shift. He brings a forkful to his mouth and hums happily as flavour bursts over his tongue.

“I didn’t know you could cook like this,” Carlos admits, as the side of his fork glides through the fish.

“Well, you’re always so particular about your recipes,” TK jokes, before shrugging his good shoulder. He reaches across the table and squeezes Carlos’ hand. “I want to do this for you more. I want to do this together.”

“I’d love that,” Carlos smiles, thumb stroking over TK’s knuckles. Suddenly not wanting to hold it in anymore, and feeling brave in the golden light of their moment together, Carlos says: “I love you.”

TK beams. There’s something like wonder in his eyes when he replies, “I love you too.”

It feels like a mortal failing to not kiss him in this moment, and so Carlos does; pushing his chair back and leaning over at the waist to cup TK’s jaw in his palm and press their mouths together. Their lips move in an easy slide, and TK tastes of citrus, of something distinctly himself.

It’s kind of like coming home. And Carlos never wants it to fade away.

(i wish you would write a fic where…game!)

[arcane-vagabond]

We Abide: Chapter One

We Abide: Chapter One

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: It had started out as a small outbreak, but as weeks passed, it was clear there was no turning back. The disease spread quickly, and those who caught it and were unlucky enough to survive? Their minds were no longer their own, driven to hunting what was left of humanity. Your friend had gone West to help aid in recovery efforts before the world stopped, and now you found yourself trekking across the country to try and find her. You were fine on your own, only the company of your dog to help keep you sane, but your reputation catches up with you when a cocky man decides to tag along. (Apocalypse!AU)

Content Warning: Summer heat, allusions to PTSD, Graphic violence, Reader is attacked by a monster, Depictions of mortal wound, Graphic descriptions of blood, Death, Survival mode, Cursing, Crying, Flirting, Older father figure. I think that's it, but PLEASE let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: 4.5k

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Moodboard 1 || Moodboard 2 || Playlist

Sweat dripped down your forehead, the summer sun beating down on your brow even between the dense foliage of the trees up above. You supposed it wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the damn humidity that seemed to grip your throat like a vice. You stopped in your tracks, the snapping of the twigs beneath your feet sounding amongst the forest noises. Cicadas screamed angrily all around you, the tweeting of birds filling the air as they swooped up above.

You slumped against a nearby tree, tilting your head back to try and feel some of the warm breeze that trickled by, offering little comfort from the heat. If you had to guess, it was probably around July about that time. You didn’t keep a close enough eye on the date as you traveled, and quite frankly, it didn’t worry you all that much.

You closed your eyes against the blinding sun, reaching blindly for the water bottle you kept tucked away in your backpack. You frowned at how light the canister felt in your hands, the sloshing of the liquid within causing you to sigh. You were running low again, and you couldn’t be sure as to the safety of the water in this area. Hopefully, you’d run across an abandoned house or survivor community soon. Judging by the map, you weren’t too far from Lake Beaver. You had seen the “Welcome to Arkansas” sign only a couple hours prior, so it would make sense that you were closing in on the large body of water at this point.

The thought of soaking in the cool, lake water nearly made you sigh in relief. You hated the heat—always had. Of course, you grew up in one of the hottest areas of the country, the AC often giving out in those early years until your father finally broke down and bought a new one. You’d sit in front of that window unit for hours, just enjoying the cold air until your mother harped at you for blocking the cool air from getting to the rest of the house.

Rustling to your left pulled you from your thoughts, your head jerking forward as your eyes snapped open. You reached back to pull the hatchet out from the confines of your pack, body tensing as you crouched into a ready position. It wasn’t often that you encountered a snapper during the daylight hours, but it had happened enough that you knew you couldn’t take the chance.

The sound of a twig snapped, and you braced yourself, drawing your arm back to strike when a figure bounded forward.

You let out a startled gasp, eyes wide as your brain processed what was happening. The dog was a large, mixed breed, shaggy red fur and facial features indicating it was mixed with golden retriever and something else that you couldn’t quite place. Big, brown eyes stared up at you as it trotted forward, tail wagging excitedly as it stopped to sniff at your feet.

You let the hatchet drop to your side, a scowl on your face as placed a hand on your hip.

“Dammit, Mars,” you groused, crouching down so that you were eye level with the mutt. His tail wagged faster at the mention of his name, stepping forward and relishing in the touch you were giving him as you scratched behind his ear.

“You nearly died just then, you know,” you admonished, but Mars paid you no mind, head jerking to the side as something caught his attention. Probably a squirrel.

“What were you up to, anyway?” You asked, standing straight as the dog trotted off with his nose to the ground. You watched after him for a moment, wondering how he managed to keep up so much energy amidst the miserable heat. With a shake of your head, you put your items away before pushing off of the tree trunk.

You’d heard mention of a survivor community around those parts, the folks up near the outskirts of Springfield and Branson assuring you that you’d find folks down this way who would aid you on your journey.

It had been a year and a half since you left New York, if you had to guess. You had trekked down along the eastern seaboard, stopping at the different communities you could find along the way. Most welcomed you in, offering you food and a place to stay, others wanted an exchange of some kind, and you found that you were surprisingly adept at hunting. Still, there was the occasional community that didn’t welcome you at all, rather chasing you out of the area and back onto the road.

The locals up in Missouri had assuaged your fears, however, assuring you that the folks of Beaver Lake would welcome you just as they had.

Letting out a heavy sigh, you whistled for Mars, the mutt perking up before bounding back towards you.

“Let’s hoof it,” you told him, readjusting the strap on your pack. “I want to get there before nightfall.”

You came upon the water maybe an hour later, the promise of cool relief nearly tempting you to stop and enjoy it. You eyed the horizon, the sun slowly inching downwards, and you let out a longing sigh as you forced yourself to continue. You stuck by the edge of the water, sure that the survivors would stick near the fresh body of water. You saw the splash of fish, making a mental note to try your hand at fishing before you left. If you caught enough, you could use them to barter for other goods or use them as a repayment for hospitality. The folks in Missouri had been kind, refusing to barter, but there was no telling what the people of Beaver Lake would want.

The sun sunk lower and lower past the trees, and a coolness began to creep into the air. You still had about an hour or two of light, if you had to guess, and you were hoping you’d come across the settlement sooner rather than later. You’d spent many nights out in the new wilderness by yourself, and while it wasn’t ideal, you knew you could hold your own against a snapper or two. But, there’d been once or twice when you’d caught sight of a large grouping of them, creeping along the ground as you sat in an abandoned home or up in the branches of a tree. They never bothered with Mars, much, the snap of his teeth enough to deter the wayward snapper if they did happen across his hiding spot.

The sound of a motor caught your attention, Mars’ ears perking alongside you. Your head snapped towards the water, watching as a small motorboat made its way towards the dock just a little ways ahead of you. You saw two figures on the boat, one steering and the other looking out over the edge towards where you stood.

As the boat drew closer, you began walking once more, albeit faster this time and with Mars hot on your tail.

The boat docked as you trotted up onto the wood of the platform, your steps echoing as you approached.

“Ain’t ever seen you ‘round these parts,” one of the men said as his companion tied the boat to a post. “Wasn’t sure if you was snapper or friend.”

“Friend, I hope,” you offered smoothly, earning a grunt from the same man. The other finished tying his knot, standing straight to look at you. Both men were older, perhaps somewhere in their late forties or early fifties with graying hair and weathered faces. The man who spoke to you had clear, blue eyes that assessed you with curiosity, the man next to him watched you with caution in his dark eyes.

The first man brought a hand up to scratch his bearded chin thoughtfully.

“You the one then?” He asked gruffly, eyes drifting down to watch Mars seated next to you. “The one my buddy up in Cassville radioed me about? What’s it they call you? The Wanderer?”

You held back a scowl at the mention of the moniker you had earned on your travels. No one traveled as far as you did, if they did at all. The only ones that moved outside of the communities these days were those running supplies to and fro.

“I’d rather you didn’t call me that, actually,” you told them, supplying them with your name instead. The man repeated it, mulling it over before nodding slowly.

“Alright then, little miss. I suppose you’ll be wanting a place to stay then, hm?” He asked. His friend stepped past him and onto the dock, grabbing a box that jangled with its contents before walking down the dock and towards a shack that lay past the water’s edge.

“It’d be nice,” you agreed, watching as he grabbed a box of his own to carry towards the shack. “I don’t have much to barter with at the moment, though.”

“Well, we can worry about all that later. How’s about you grab a box or two and help us unload? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can head back to LaRue and get you settled.”

You followed suit, grabbing a box that was much heavier than it looked and catching yourself before you stumbled back into the water. You fell into an easy rhythm between the blue-eyed man—Bill as you would later learn his name was—and Les.

About a half hour later, the boat was fully unloaded, and you sat on the back bench across from Bill as Les prepared the boat for departure. The sun sank lower towards the horizon now, level with the surrounding treeline. You bounced your leg in a nervous habit that you had never quite been able to shake, only stopping when you caught Bill watching you.

“You nervous?” He asked finally. In the short time you had known the two men, it was clear that Bill was the talker.

You shrugged, pressing your lips together and picking at the skin around your fingernails—another bad habit you had yet to break.

“Y’ain’t got nothin’ to be nervous about,” he assured you, leaning forward on his knee. “You’re somethin’ of a legend, you know. Folks around LaRue have been itchin’ to see if you’d make it this way. The young ones ‘specially’ll be all up and over you when we get there, I reckon.”

You always felt a little embarrassed whenever your newfound celebrity status was brought up to you. You didn’t consider yourself famous in the slightest, and quite frankly you were surprised there weren’t more people like you out and looking for their loved ones. You supposed, though, that making a trip cross country on foot was an asinine idea in this world—especially with the snappers posing a looming threat on all those caught unawares. You’d had a couple of close calls to be sure, a snapper sneaking up on you in the Appalachian mountains had come the closest to doing some permanent damage.

It had been snowing that day, and you’d cut it close with finding some kind of shelter. The sun had just disappeared below the horizon, and Mars had still been small enough to fit in your backpack. Your breaths came out in clouded puffs, your legs shaking with exertion when you stumbled upon the tiny cabin. A relieved sigh had left your lips, but you stopped when you saw a figure standing along the treeline past the dilapidated sanctuary.

The figure’s movements had been jerky, their body contorting oddly, and your adrenaline began to spike at the danger you found yourself suddenly in. Your eyes darted toward the cabin. All you had to do was make it the fifteen or so yards to the front door. If you could do that, you could lock yourself inside and barricade the entrance until morning. Slowly, you inched your way towards the door, careful to not make a sound that would alert the snapper to your presence. You had seen one once not too long before—its teeth digging into the flesh of a deer, human hands clawing at the skin of the dead animal as it tried desperately to satisfy the hunger it would never sate. The sight of the blood dripping down its pale skin would haunt you forever.

You remembered the zombie movies Kate used to drag you to. You had never been a fan, finding the creatures boring rather than scary. It wasn’t that the snappers looked like zombies because they didn’t, really. No, they still looked horrifyingly human—they were still human somewhere deep down. The disease attacked the nervous system, yes, but it also prevented the hosts from absorbing the necessary nutrients from food, causing them to look gaunt and weak. They were strong though, despite their appearance. The waif-like beings haunted your dreams, waking you from a dead sleep on more than one occasion. The howls and shrieks as they roamed the outdoors under the night sky sent a wave of fear up your spine no matter how often you heard them.

Slowly, you had crept along the clearing, eyes never drifting far from the snapper in front of you. Your ears remained alert as you listened for any sign of a companion. While snappers tended to move singularly, it wasn’t unheard of for them to travel in pairs or even packs on the rare occasion. You were about halfway to the door when Mars began to squirm in your pack, and your heart skipped a beat at the movement. Praying that he remained quiet enough for you to reach safety, you picked up your pace. You made it three feet before a twig snapped under your heel, a silent curse on your lips as the snapper’s head jerked up towards you. You could see it—her—more clearly now. Matted, brown hair framed her ghostly, white face, eyes glazed over in white stared back at you as her shoulders jerked violently. Your eyes darted around you, looking for something to defend yourself with should you need it. They landed on an abandoned hatchet next to a rotted out tree trunk before back up at her.

Just as you thought she would turn away, Mars let out a small bark from behind you, and your heart sank to your stomach. The snapper’s face contorted into blind rage, her teeth bared as she launched herself in your direction. You dove for the hatchet, gripping it in your fingers. You hadn’t anticipated her speed, having had just enough time to shrug off your pack, but as you stood straight once more, she was already on you, knocking you to the ground. You grunted as the air left your lungs, and you struggled violently against her, Mars barking in the background. The snapper snarled at you, foam dripping from her mouth as she snapped at you, her teeth clacking in an echo that sent ice through your veins. You held the hatchet between the two of you, the tool acting as a barrier as you scrambled to gain purchase. Your feet kicked against the ground and the snapper’s legs until finally you were able to plant them firmly into the cold ground beneath you. With all your strength, you pushed the snapper off of you and to the side, scrambling to your feet in the confusion.

She was on her feet a second later, long fingernails slashing at you as you dodged them. Your heart hammered in your chest, survival instincts driving you. You swung blindly at her with the hatchet, desperate cries coming from your lips as you fought for life. Her glazed eyes watched you tauntingly, saliva dripping down her chin and neck as she gnashed her teeth once more at you. Mars still barked and whined behind you, and you took a deep breath to try and ready yourself. Your eyes squeezed shut just as you swung the hatchet again, pleading with whatever god or gods were listening to you in that moment.

A sickening thwack sounded, the snapper’s screeching cutting short, and slowly you opened your eyes. To your shock and horror, the hatchet was buried halfway through the snapper’s neck—bright, red blood trickling out from around the blade. You stared in horror as the snapper clawed at her neck, desperate whimpers gurgling out of her mouth. You let go of the hatchet, stumbling back as the trickle of blood became a steady flow, staining the clothes she still wore as she stumbled towards you. She only made it a step or two before collapsing to the ground with a thud, her hands still clawing at the gaping hole before finally she stilled.

The clearing was silent, save for Mars’ quiet whimpering and the sound of your heart still thundering away in your chest. The snow continued to fall, careless of what had just transpired, and it wasn’t until a gust of wind whipped around you that you realized you were crying. The shock of the cold broke you from your spell, and after wiping your cheeks, you walked back over to your backpack. You checked Mars to make sure he was okay, earning a few licks to your cheek as you hoisted the pack back over your shoulders. You paused, contemplating before turning back around. Your hand gripped the handle of the hatchet, pulling until the blade let go of the snapper’s flesh with a sickening squelch.

LaRue was a small community, and by the looks of it, it had been even before the outbreak. Les stopped the boat at one of the docks in the marina, making quick work of tying it to one of the posts.

“Larue and Bland merged after everything went down,” Bill explained as he led you toward the street. “They used to be two different communities, you know. But folks came together to survive.”

Mars sniffed the ground as you walked, watching as people walked to and fro. Some caught sight of you, and before long, people were looking at you everywhere you went.

“Cathy’s place isn’t too far now,” Bill told you, waving as you passed a group of older people, there eyes trained on you curiously as they returned the gesture. “She’ll fix you up and get you settled, don’t you worry.”

You were beginning to feel anxious from all of the attention, eyes darting around as you began picking at your fingers once more. You saw a group of what looked like teenagers whispering to each other, their fingers pointing at you as they chattered excitedly. You stiffened slightly, increasing your pace so that you stood side by side with Bill. He led you a little further down the street before veering right towards an old, brick building. A sign that read “Cathy’s Place” hung above the door, and a bell rang as he pushed the door in. The room was spacious, hardwood floors spanning all the way to the back as different tables took up space and a couple of booths lined the walls. A bar was arranged in the middle, several men and women gathered around it, conversation lulling as the two of you stepped in. Mars stuck close to you, ears perking at the different sounds around him.

You followed Bill towards the back, ever mindful of the watchful eyes that followed you, and you were sure you looked worse for wear. You had showered in Branson, but the long day of trekking had left you sweaty and caked in dirt.

Bill plopped himself down at a table, leaning back in his chair with a tired groan as his joints popped. You slowly sat down across from him, careful to take in your surroundings without making eye contact with anyone there. You weren’t sure how long you’d be staying, but you didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

You turned to see an older woman with graying, blonde hair stroll up to your table. Her jeans were worn, and a green apron was wrapped around her waist. She smirked down at the man across from you, hands on her hips as she took him in, eyes glancing at you for one curious moment.

“Heya, Cathy,” Bill greeted, hands resting on the top of the wooden table.

“Heya, Cathy,” she mocked with a cluck of her tongue. “Cutting it a little close to nightfall today, aintcha?”

“S’pose,” Bill agreed with a nod, a twinkle shining in his eyes. “Les and I had a lot to move around today.”

Cathy hummed disapprovingly before glancing at you once more. “Gonna introduce me to your friend here?”

“Cathy,” he grinned, gesturing across the table at you. “This here is the wanderer.”

All conversation stopped at the mention of your moniker, and you bristled at the sudden lack of noise. A couple of seconds passed before the whispers started, and you shot a scowl at Bill.

“I’d rather you called me by my name,” you groused, giving it to the hostess. She nodded.

“Heard a lot about you,” she said. “Heard you’re headed west.”

“I am,” you confirmed. Before Cathy could continue her questioning, your stomach let out a loud growl, your hunger suddenly catching up with you.

“How’s some chicken fried steak sound, sugar?” The older woman asked. “An old family recipe.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had beef,” you muttered, your mouth watering at the thought. Cathy let out a chuckle at your unwilling eagerness.

“Lucky for you, we just traded for some the other day,” she smiled. “I’ll get you some water and something for your little friend here while I’m at it.”

She grinned down at Mars who wagged his tail excitedly at the sudden attention.

“I’ll pay you back,” you promised her, resting a hand on Mars’ head. Cathy opened her mouth to respond, but stopped as the chair between you and Bill was pulled out with a scrape against the floor.

“You can put it on my tab, Cathy.”

You turned to see a tall, blond man sit down in the seat, a wide grin on his face as he looked at you. He was handsome, some scruff littering his jaw and green eyes twinkling in delight.

Cathy rolled her eyes, but turned to walk back towards the kitchen. Your cheeks warmed at the attention from the man next to you, and Bill cleared his throat.

“Tyler,” he greeted, though it sounded more like a warning than a friendly acknowledgment.

“Evenin’, Bill,” Tyler nodded, his eyes never leaving you. “Knew you’d bring back something interestin’ one day.”

You stared at him, keeping your features schooled as you met his gaze. Tyler continued to study you in silence, the corners of his lips twitching into a wider smirk as if he liked what he saw. The two of you never broke eye contact, even as Cathy came back with water for your table, dipping down to lay a dish on the floor for Mars. The dog lapped up the water happily, tail wagging all the while.

You arched a brow in challenge to the newcomer, daring him to say something else. He only smiled at you, leaning back in his chair with a tap to the tabletop.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” muttered Bill, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you let us eat in peace, kid?”

Tyler’s eyes finally left you, looking over at the grumpy, older man.

“It’s not everyday we get a celebrity in these parts, Bill,” he drawled. “Especially not one with an interesting story, wouldn’t you say?”

Bill scowled at the blond, tearing his eyes away as Cathy came back with three plates, once more setting them down in front of you, Bill, and Mars.

“Mars, sit,” you commanded, and the dog obeyed, wolfing down the chicken Cathy brought out for him.

“‘S a good-looking dog you got there,” Tyler commented, nodding over towards Mars.

“Thanks,” you said, cutting into your own food. You nearly moaned at the taste. It wasn’t often you got a cooked meal, even rarer that you got them on back-to-back nights.

“They not feed you up in Branson?” Bill teased in a chuckle.

“They did,” you assured him. “Just been a while since I had a good country fried steak.”

“You staying long?” Tyler asked, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. You offered him a shrug, unsure of how to answer. It would be better if you left sooner rather than later.

“Not sure yet,” you amended. “Haven’t made much progress in the last week or so. I’ll need to take stock of my supplies.”

“Suppose you’ll need more bullets for the road,” he agreed with a nod. You scrunched your nose up and shook your head.

“Guns are too noisy,” you told him, your exhaustion making you chattier than usual. “They attract snappers more than deter them. No, I keep a hatchet with me. It’s lightweight, but it gets the job done. Can use it for more too.”

Tyler let out a quiet laugh, a grin plastered on his face as he sat back once more.

“A hatchet,” he breathed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Well, look at you.”

“I hate to rush y’all,” Cathy said, walking over with her hands in her pockets, “but the sun is setting any minute, and you know they don’t keep those lights on for long. I’ll need to get closing up here in a second.”

Bill nodded, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah, alright. You wanna get her a box, and we’ll get it sorted out where she’s stayin’ tonight?”

“She can always stay with me,” she hollered as she moved back to grab you a box for your half eaten steak.

“Y’ain’t got no room, woman!” Bill guffawed, patting his stomach. “You got four kids and all o’ their kids livin’ under your roof. Where’s she gonna sleep? The roof?”

Cathy scowled at him as she handed you the box.

“Well, she ain’t gonna stay in that shack you try to pass off as a house,” she snapped.

“She can stay with me.”

All three of your heads snapped to look at Tyler, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

“Ain’t no way-” Bill began, but Tyler cut him off.

“Everybody else has already booked it back home,” he pointed out with a serious look, and for the first time you noticed that it was just the four of you in the room. How had you missed that?

“Besides,” he continued, his smirk crawling back into place. “I’ve got the room and I don’t live that far from here. You can come and check on her first thing in the morning.”

The room was silent, and you allowed yourself to glance between everyone. Cathy pursed her lips, but didn’t refute him. Bill didn’t look happy about it, but he finally sighed.

“Yeah, alright,” he groused. “But, honey? He tries anythin’ funny, and you got my permission to chop a couple of those fingers off, you hear?”

A/N: Ruthie made me post this now lol

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[making-your-fave-in-fr]

wario.

I made Wario from the Mario series in Flight Rising!

M Snapper (Common Ice eyes) Cream/Basic | Plum/Basic | Green/Basic

Gold Renaissance Shirt, Sassy Sailor's Pants, Kelly Green Spats, Golden Hoard, Cursed Gold Rings, Contrast Aviator Gloves, Wise Whiskers, Dreadful Hunter's Hat

[boxfullaturtles]

Rest for the Weary

A "Made to Suffer and to Love" Vignette

Donatello isn't doing great since his double mutation. He doesn't feel like himself. He feels like a monster.

This was originally conceptualized as a comic. But I don't really have the time to commit to that, and I really wanted to tell this little story. So you get a mini fic instead.

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

His family is laughing.

The sight fills him with a warm relief, the familiarity soothing to the tiny lump of worry that has been sitting in his stomach. He doesn’t know why he was worried, he only knows he was and it was about them. He worries about them so much.

But Leo has an arm draped over Mikey’s shoulders and is leaning over him with a broad grin on his face. And Mikey is battering playfully at him with loud sunshine laughter, shoving playfully at his older brother. Raph is looming over both of them with a grin that says he’s two seconds away from scooping them up into his arms. Splinter is shaking his head with a fond smile and April is encouraging their shenanigans with taunts and laughter. They are washed in sunlight, cast in a warm and golden glow, the perfect picture of family.

Donnie grins as he makes to follow them. He moves to step out of the shade and into the sun, only to be pulled up short by a sharp tug on his arm.

He frowns, turning to see what’s stopped him. There’s a thick, steel manacle clamped around his wrist, the heavy chain attached to it stretched taut. Donnie follows the chain back to a sturdy wall where the chain is mounted and his breath catches.

Why is he chained up?

He turns back to face his family, to reach out to them, but there’s another pull and another rattle of metal. His other arm is in chains now. Donnie thrashes, yanking on the chains, skin chafing beneath the cuffs. There are chains on his ankles and then around his neck and he’s trapped, shackled to a wall and his family is only a few feet away in the sun!

There are heavy black bars between him and his still laughing family.

He’s in a cage.

He’s in a cage and his family is right there!

Donnie calls out to them, but his voice comes out in roar, an animal shriek. There are no words, only noise. He tries again, tries to shout his brothers’ names, but again comes the unearthly, horrifying cries. He sounds like a wild beast, a stranger. No one turns to look at him.

His eyes burn and he heaves against the cuffs, straining his shoulders, pulling with all his might.

His family is farther away. They’re leaving! They’re walking away and they’re leaving him behind! He screams and cries, he begs for them to turn and see him. But they keep walking away into the sunlight and leave Donnie alone in the shadows of the cage. He screams in despair, collapsing to his knees on a floor covered in straw. Tears streak down his face as he howls and sobs. He’s in a cage, chained up like some animal, stripped of everything he owns and left to rot here.

He’s alone. He’s been abandoned. He’s a monster. He can’t blame them. He hurts so much. He...he…

Donatello jerks awake with a mournful wail.

The room is dark and big and his cry echos, bouncing back to him without an answer.

He sniffs at the air, shuffling across his nest and twisting his head around to try and see in the dark. There are the lingering scents of his family, of Raph’s terrarium and of the snapper himself. Mikey’s scent is the most recent and there’s a pile of blankets and a pillow on the couch. But there’s no one there now. Donnie is alone.

The nest of blankets and soft things feels cold and lonely. Donnie presses his big, awkward hands over his snout to try and keep the desperate whine of loneliness and terror inside. He’s shivering, each breath he takes comes in as a shuddering gasp, and despite his size, he’s feeling so very, very small. He’s so caught up in the dregs of the nightmare and awful feelings that he doesn’t notice the light patter of feet on the concrete floor.

“Dee?”

Mikey’s voice startles him and he looks up quickly. Mikey’s hovering a foot away, worry on his face, the light from his phone stinging Donnie’s watering eyes. Donnie swallows the lump in his throat and can’t stop himself from shooting a glance from the empty couch and back to Mikey.

“Ah, sorry, I know you don’t really like having to sleep out here so, uh, I dunno, I got kinda sad and wanted to keep you company,” Mikey shrugs with a small smile, “I just ran to the bathroom real quick, sorry if I woke you up…” He shifts, tilting his head, his expression scrunching up in concern, “...are you okay, Donnie?”

Donnie’s not sure how to articulate with his limited ability to communicate just how much it means to him that Mikey is here. He’s not sure how to explain how the nightmare feels too much like something that can still happen, how waking up alone in the dark is starting to become one of his worst fears. He doesn’t know how to say how much his brothers mean to him.

So he just shuffles over a little in his nest and lifts his arm in a silent invitation.

Mikey’s smile bursts into a megawatt sunbeam.

He tosses his phone onto the couch and dives into Donnie’s nest, squirming around until he’s situated himself snuggling against Donnie’s side. When Mikey beams up at him, Donnie makes a great show of rolling his eyes and huffing before he settles back down.

The blankets feel a lot warmer with Mikey laying next to him.

He closes his eyes and lets his breathing fall into a steady pattern. Mikey’s breathing next to him lulls him back to sleep.

And if Donnie wakes up again from another nightmare, this time he doesn’t wake up alone.

[scarabaebutch]

Prompting Night: Jay Garrick deciding to have some quality bonding time with Bart, in whatever form that takes

A/N: this is the YJA-verse. Also technically within an YJA-preboot fusion AU I've been working on for a while but the details are unneeded since this is part of the very beginning of it. This is Jay's POV. I adore the Flashfam and have a particular soft spot for the Golden Agers.

Context: this is morning after the end of s2

---

7:06AM July 05, 2016

On his second cup of chamomile, Jay looks through Snapper Carr’s last reports and assessments on Bart’s academic skills again. Joan had already left early this morning for her microbiology lecture. Now it was just him and a still sleeping-in Bart in the house. That was a first he was pleased to see; the future-boy had a habit of being up as early as him, an insomniac old man who didn’t have many good dreams to look forward to.

Weak in essay writing and reading analysis, but strong in math, Mr. Carr’s notes began. Demonstrates excellent understanding of algebraic and geometric concepts. Has trouble showing his work and keeping on task, but that may be due to the subject material. Has not indicated extent of previous experience in the public school system. Will need additional guidance on school expectations prior to enrollment. Addendum: very neat cursive! Tell him to keep up the good handwriting. Did you teach him the Palmer method? 

Jay frowns. He'll need to submit these to Keystone North by next Friday. Bart will start eighth grade in the coming fall. The thought of Bart’s shocking youth in light of recent events makes Jay’s stomach clench. Jay had nearly pulled Bart off the Team after Wally’s death. Barry was hardly in a state to argue back. The thought of Bart being in the same danger—how did he ever tolerate that for Wally, Jay wonders. Then he remembers--the need for an outlet, for others like himself, for morality and self-discipline. Work from a young age was good for character and strengthening. Wally had blossomed on the Team, at least for a little while. Then college came and there was a…worrying decline. Frankly, leaving behind the suit was good for Wally’s mental state, whether or not he would ever return to the life. 

But even Wally, Jay thinks angrily, was not exposed to such twisting violence like Bart at the same age. Wally was fifteen going on sixteen when he was first on the Team. The missions, from what he recalled, were tricky but not shadowed by a looming war. Bart wasn’t fourteen and yet he was called one of the most important assets on the Team.

Sickening. Jay had half a mind to question the competency of the Justice League, but he had to use his influence carefully. The Justice League may take his advice in consideration but any harsh criticism could be easily dismissed as an out of touch veteran’s cantankerous mutterings. While Barry would certainly listen to him, that was no guarantee for change. 

Why did he let Bart stay, he wonders. He and Joan were his guardians. Then he remembers again, the hard look in Bart’s eyes. If Jay and Joan did not let him, he would do it his own way, no matter the consequences. Perhaps he should have adopted a firmer stance. But Bart was not a young child that could be easily grounded or restrained. They were guardians but not…parental figures. Not quite. Bart did not openly rebel but neither was he obligated to stay with them, exactly. He listened out of respect and politeness, at least at this point. And Jay rather Bart be monitored and have help nearby than run the risk of Bart running off and doing God-knows-what in bum nowhere.

The new (old) suit and codename was just another hurdle for Jay to get used to. 

Jay sighs, rubs one of his temples. He reads the end notes again. To say they felt vaguely incomplete and superficial was an understatement. But most academic assessments were mostly a glimpse of a student’s ability to take a presented exam nowadays. His own and Joan’s experiences in the American education system long told of that. Bart’s strength in mathematics was unsurprising—his preference of fixing and updating his goggles was evident from the start, alongside his family history. Not that it would have been a shame if Bart wasn’t so inclined; it simply made many things easier. Though, strangely, Barry seemed startled whenever Jay told him of Bart’s fascination with machines and frequencies. 

Jay did not pretend to himself about any previous or future heartfelt conversations with Bart about the alternate now-unwinded future he came from. He didn’t know anymore than anyone else in the family. There was no one left to miss him, Bart had simply said when asked about any future-family to possibly return to, after the Reach were defeated, after poor Wally (it should have been you, you old bastard--).

Another life where there was no one left to miss him. Another aspect that was unfortunately similar to himself (no matter how long ago--). Jay takes another gulp of chamomile and watches the golden hour slowly pass into proper morning. Well, he thinks to himself. It’ll help no one fussing over that now. Bart will tell his current family more when he feels safe. Stable. Jay and Joan were happy to provide that but damn if Jay’s natural curiosity wasn’t piqued. It itched at him, to poke and ask so who did take care of you before you left. Time around fellas of his own generation had luckily taught him patience in that regard. 

The most pressing mystery to Jay was the way Bart ran and moved, smooth, graceful, unceasing. No pauses for recalculations. Leaping, darting. It reminded him someone he thought dead for decades--

Peripherally, Jay teeks a closeby aura shifting brighter, awake. The stairs creak a picosecond after. He straightens up and closes the beige folder.

“Bart,” he calls up. “Breakfast is ready. Clean up and eat some eggs. They’re in the pan for you.”

“Be right there!” Bart calls right down. Ten seconds and a gust of air later, he appears next to Jay’s seat. “Can I have some waffles too?”

“In the freezer.”

“Thanks!”

Jay works through the rest of his chamomile by the time Bart settles across him with a plate piled with eggs and a tower of blueberry waffles. Jay pushes a jar of honey towards him.

“Are we going to train today, Jay?” Bart asks halfway into his eggs and waffles, his tone a tad too casual, the muscles in his throat twitching. Modulating the voice. Jay doesn’t poke. “Gramps mentioned he wanted to skip patrol today so maybe we could go running in Utah or the Andes. I haven’t navigated mountains in a while.”

An incomplete assessment, only scratching the surface. An old costume from someone else. When was the last time Bart had done anything not related to superheroing? Barry mostly called to take Bart patrolling or to pick him up from Team missions as of recent weeks. Before, Bart would take every opportunity to blame the invasion to avoid many non-hero excursions. No excuses anymore, Jay decides.

“I was thinking something closer to home, slugger,” Jay says, pushing the folder to the side. “Do you like chemistry?”

Bart blinks, perks up a bit. “Can’t say I’m super familiar with it like you. More of a mechanic—I mean, I like playing with computer parts or, uh—I’m good with numbers. Carr put that in my report card, right?”

Jay smiles. “He did. Chemistry and physics are my game. I still work as a part-time director. I go in tomorrow.”

“I can do physics.” A twist in Bart’s mouth before his face flattens into something neutral. “Is there going to be a test?”

“Just on how fast you can figure out which chemicals can cause an explosion,” Jay says idly.

“Oh, I think I can do that.” A grin blooms across Bart’s face, something reflecting genuine emotion.  

“My lab’s in the basement,” Jay says, pleased. “After breakfast, I’ll show you what happens when you put sodium in water and how to put out a hydrogen fire. You gotta watch out for such things in a lab. You don’t want to blow up by accident.”

“A hydrogen fire?” Bart repeats, swallowing a bit of syrup covered eggs. His yellow eyes glittered with interest. “I know about magnesium and methanol fires but not hydrogen.”

“Not too different, asides from the fact it’s almost invisible in daylight,” Jay says cheerily. “It happens. After you learn how to not blow up by accident, then I’ll teach you how to make explosions on purpose.”

“Do you know how to put together a gas stove? Or a Bunsen burner?” Bart asks excitedly, voice climbing up. “I know how to fix one but I don’t know about which model parts belong to which since it’s hell trying to find an intact manual even in this time—”

“Sure thing, buster. But we’ll start from the beginning,” Jay tells him. “One step at a time. Think you can keep up?”

“I won’t forget a single one, Jay,” Bart replies with a thick layer of gushing assurance and eagerness. “And don’t worry, I won’t burn down the house. I promise.”

Jay huffed out a short laugh. “Alright, kid. Come on, let’s get started.” 

---

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

ROYGBIV

Thanks @willtheweaver here!

Rules: post sentences with each color of the Rainbow!

Let's see if TSP Part Two has it all...

Red - from The Secret Portal Part Two

Amaya was a middle-aged woman with hair so dark red it looked purple, tied into a high bun; her dark eyes filled with concern.

Orange - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Jedi POV)

A waterfox swam by, its orange scales glistening in the sunlight breaking through the waves.

Yellow - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Maddie POV)

Kelsey reached to the pile of clothes that was next to her and tossed a yellow sweater to me.

Green - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Lexi POV)

“Yeah. Basically an honorary cheerleader at this point. Um,” I tapped my green pen on the planner, “okay, Jackson wants to start hanging out outside of school. I’ve told him that I usually am busy over the weekends, and I usually have my therapy appointments on Monday afternoons, but he’s fine hanging out, like, on Tuesdays for Sonic after school.” I began filling him in each Tuesday afternoon.

Blue - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Robbie POV)

“Are you sure that’s blue? Looks more cornflower to me.”

Indigo - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Carmen POV)

The patch of otatave flowers. The twisted log covered in indigo moss. A large stone encased in snapper vines that had once snatched me off the path. I steered clear, only scarcely outpacing a vine that attempted to coil itself around my ankle. I did not care to get tossed like a flying disk today.

Violet - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Jedi POV)

The northern mountains in the distance towered over the city’s tallest buildings, and earlier this morning, when I woke up, I looked out the window of the motel. The way the pink and violet streaked across the sky in a beautiful gradient over the peaks of the range.

Wahoo!

I'll tag... @laureleavess @leahnardo-da-veggie @paeliae-occasionally @mk-writes-stuff @cataclysmic-writer

+ ANYONE ELSE

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet

[imexperiencinggrowthgetoverit]

List of all SDV and SDV:E (Stardew Valley: Expanded) Giftable Items

Horseradish

Daffodil

Leek

Dandelion

Parsnip

Cave Carrot

Coconut

Cactus

Banana

Sap

Large Egg

Egg

Milk

Large Milk

Green Bean

Cauliflower

Potato

Garlic

Kale

Rhubarb

Melon

Tomato

Morsel

Blueberry

Fiddlehead Fern

Hot Pepper

Wheat

Radish

Red Cabbage

Starfruit

Corn

Rice

Eggplant

Artichoke

Pumpkin

Bokchoy

Yam

Chanterelle

Cranberry

Holly

Beets

Ostrich Egg

Salmonberry

Amouranth

Pale Ale

Hops

Void Egg

Mayonnaise

Duck Mayonnaise

Void Mayonnaise

Clay

Copper Bar

Silver Bar

Gold Bar

Iridium Bar

Refined Quartz

Honey

Pickles

Jam

Beer

Wine

Juice

Clam

Poppy

Copper Ore

Silver Ore

Coal

Gold Ore

Iridium Ore

Wood

Stone

Nautilus Shell

Coral

Summer Shell

Spice Berry

Sea Urchin

Grape

Spring Onion

Strawberry

Sweet Pea

Common Mushroom

Wild Plum

Hazelnut

Blackberry

Winter Root

Crystal Fruit

Snow Yam

Sweet Gem Berry

Crocus

Red Mushroom

Sunflower

Purple Mushroom

Cheese

Goat Cheese

Cloth

Truffle

Truffle Oil

Coffee Bean

Goat Milk

Large Goat Milk

Wool

Duck Egg

Duck Feather

Caviar

Lucky Rabbit’s Foot

Aged Roe

Ancient Fruit

Mead

Tulip

Summer Spangle

Fairy Rose

Blue Jazz

Apple

Green Tea

Apricot

Orange

Peach

Pomegranate

Cherry

Bug Meat

Hardwood

Maple Syrup

Oak Resin

Pine Tar

Slime

Bat Wing

Rusty Blade

Swirl Stone

Solar Essence

Void Essence

Void Pebble

Void Shard

Void Soul

Fiber

Battery

Dinosaur Mayonnaise

Roe

Squid Ink

Tea Leaves

Ginger

Taro Root

Pineapple

Mango

Cinder Shard

Magma Cap

Bone Fragment

Radioactive Ore

Radioactive Bar

Ancient Fiber

Bearberry

Conch

Dried Sand Dollar

Ferngill Primrose

Golden Ocean Flower

Goldenrod

Green Mushroom

Four-Leaf Clover

Monster Fruit

Monster Mushroom

Mushroom Colony

Poison Mushroom

Red Baneberry

Salal Berry

Slime Berry

Rafflesia

Sports Drink

Stamina Capsule

Thistle

Void Root

Winter Star Ross

Dewdrop Berry

Aged Blue Moon Wine

Blue Moon Wine

Aegis Elixir

Armor Elixir

Barbarian Elixir

Gravity Elixir

Haste Exilir

Hero Elixir

Lightning Elixir

Pufferfish

Anchovy

Tuna

Sardine

Bream

Largemouth Bass

Smallmouth Bass

Rainbow Trout

Salmon

Walleye

Perch

Carp

Catfish

Pike

Sunfish

Red Snapper

Herring

Eel

Octopus

Red Mullet

Squid

Seaweed

Green Algae

Seacucumber

Super Seacucumber

Ghost Carp

White Algae

Stone Fish

Crimsonfish

Angler

Icepip

Lava Eel

Legend

Sandfish

Scorpion Carp

Flounder

Midnight Carp

Mutant Carp

Sturgeon

Tiger Trout

Bullhead

Tilapia

Chub

Dorado

Albacore

Shad

Lingcod

Halibut

Lobster

Crayfish

Crab

Cockle

Mussel

Shrimp

Snail

Periwinkle

Oyster

Woodskip

Glacierfish

Void Salmon

Slimejack

Midnight Squid

Spookfish

Blobfish

Stingray

Lionfish

Blue Discus

Baby Lunaloo

Bonefish

Bull Trout

Butterfish

Clownfish

Daggerfish

Dulse Seaweed

Frog

Gemfish

Goldenfish

Grass Carp

King Salmon

Kittyfish

Lunaloo

Meteor Carp

Minnow

Puppyfish

Radioactive Bass

Razor Trout

Seahorse

Sea Sponge

Shiny Lunaloo

Snatcher Worm

Starfish

Torpedo Trout

Undeadfish

Void Eel

Water Grub

Dwarf Scroll 1

Dwarf Scroll 2

Dwarf Scroll 3

Dwarf Scroll 4

Chipped Amphora

Arrowhead

Ancient Doll

Elvish Jewelry

Chewing Stick

Ornamental Fan

Dinosaur Egg

Rare Disc

Ancient Sword

Rusty Spoon

Rusty Spur

Rusty Cog

Chicken Statue

Ancient Seed

Prehistoric Tool

Dried Starfish

Anchor

Glass Shards

Bone Flute

Prehistoric Handaxe

Dwarvish Helm

Dwarf Gadget

Ancient Drum

Golden Mask

Golden Relic

Strange Doll

Strange Doll

Prehistoric Scapula

Prehistoric Tibia

Prehistoric Skull

Skeletal Hand

Prehistoric Rib

Prehistoric Vertebrae

Skeletal Tail

Nautilus Shell

Amphibian Fossil

Palm Fossil

Trilobite

Emerald

Aquamarine

Ruby

Amethyst

Topaz

Jade

Diamond

Prismatic Shard

Quartz

Fire Quartz

Frozen Tear

Earth Crystal

Alamite

Bixite

Baryite

Aerinite

Calcite

Dolomite

Esperite

Fluorapatite

Geminite

Helvite

Jamborite

Jagoite

Kyanite

Lunarite

Malachite

Nepunite

Lemon Stone

Nekoite

Orpiment

Petrified Slime

Thunder Egg

Pyrite

Ocean Stone

Ghost Crystal

Tiger’s Eye

Jasper

Opal

Fire Opal

Celestine

Marble

Sandstone

Granite

Basalt

Limestone

Soapstone

Hematite

Mudstone

Obsidian

Slate

Fairy Stone

Star Shards

Fried Egg

Omelet

Salad

Cheese Cauliflower

Baked Fish

Parsnip Soup

Vegetable Medley

Complete Breakfast

Fried Calimari

Strange Bun

Lucky Lunch

Fried Mushrooms

Pizza

Bean Hotpot

Glazed Yams

Carp Surprise

Hashbrowns

Pancakes

Salmon Dinner

Fish Taco

Crispy Bass

Pepper Poppers

Bread

Tom Kha Soup

Trout Soup

Chocolate Cake

Pink Cake

Rhubarb Pie

Cookies

Spaghetti

Spicy Eel

Sashimi

Maki Roll

Tortilla

Red Plate

Eggplant Parmesan

Rice Pudding

Ice Cream

Bluberry Tart

Autumn’s Bounty

Pumpkin Soup

Super Meal

Cranberry Sauce

Stuffing

Farmer’s Lunch

Survival Burger

Dish’O’The Sea

Miner’s Treat

Roots Platter

Triple Shot Espresso

Seafoam Pudding

Algae Soup

Pale Broth

Plum Pudding

Artichoke Dip

Stir Fry

Roasted Hazelnuts

Pumpkin Pie

Radish Salad

Fruit Salad

Blackberry Cobbler

Cranberry Candy

Bruschetta

Coleslaw

Fiddlehead Risotto

Poppyseed Muffin

Chowder

Fish Stew

Escargot

Lobster Bisque

Maple Bar

Crab Cakes

Shrimp Cocktail

Ginger Ale

Banana Pudding

Mango Sticky Rice

Poi

Tropical Curry

Squid Ink Ravioli

Mushroom Berry Rice

Big Bark Burger

Flower Cookie

Frog Legs

Glazed Butterfish

Grampleton Orange Chicken

Mixed Berry Pie

Baked Berry Oatmeal

Void Delight

Void Salmon Sushi

[marinawolf]

How about something humorous? Kara does a timed eating challenge with ice cream and Lena is both impressed by Kara’s ability to eat that much without consequences (yay alien anatomy!) and a bit turned on. Kara also wins some trivial prize and proudly shows it off along with Lena for supporting her eating habits

Ah, I love this one. it's so damn cute! I hope you like it too! Here you go:

Ice Cream Kisses & Forever (Supercorp)

Lena and Kara strolled hand in hand through the park, enjoying the warm sunshine and gentle breeze. The smell of freshly cut grass filled the air, and the sound of laughter echoed in the distance. It was a perfect day for a leisurely walk, just the two of them. The warm sun shone down on them, casting a golden glow on their faces. It was moments like these that Lena cherished the most—the simple happiness she found in Kara's presence. She was entranced by Kara, content to listen to her excitedly talk about a new show, or moan about how Alex stole her favourite pair of boots, or vent about Snapper and how he always gave her a hard time.

"You know that I am technically his boss, right? I can have a word with him." Lena offered.

Kara smiled at her, and squeezed her hand.

"No, I need to prove myself. I can't do that if everyone thinks I'm the boss's favourite."

Lena grinned, "But you are the boss's favourite."

Kara laughed, and placed a soft kiss on Lena's lips.

"And I'm pretty obsessed with the boss. But don't worry, I can handle Snapper."

As they made their way through the park, talking, laughing and stealing kisses against trees, they stumbled upon an ice cream eating contest. Kara's eyes widened with excitement, and she turned to Lena with a mischievous grin. "I've always wanted to try one of these!"

Lena chuckled at Kara's enthusiasm. "Of course, Kara. Go ahead, show them what you're made of."

Lena watched with adoration as Kara joined the other contestants, quickly paying her entry fee and waving down at Lena. She marveled at how Kara's alien DNA allowed her to eat copious amounts of food without feeling sick. It was one of the many things that fascinated her about Kara—her extraordinary abilities and the way they were seamlessly integrated into her everyday life, and how Kara never let them get to her head.

The contest began, and Kara devoured bowl after bowl of ice cream, her determination evident in every spoonful. Lena stood there, cheering Kara on. Lena's thoughts drifted, and she found herself captivated by Kara's features. The twinkle in her electrifying blue eyes, the curve of her smile, and the way sunlight danced on her golden hair. She couldn't help but feel a rush of attraction and desire course through her veins, her desire deepening as she observed Kara's tongue dart out to lick some ice cream that had fallen onto her hand.

Time seemed to fly by, and before she knew it, Kara emerged victorious, the crowd erupting in cheers, some entirely awe struck at Kara's ability to eat that much ice cream. She jumped off the stage with a trophy in hand and a triumphant smile on her lips. Without hesitation, Kara made a beeline for Lena and pulled her into a passionate kiss, celebrating the win.

Lena could taste the sweet remnants of ice cream on Kara's lips, and she felt a surge of warmth in her heart. In that moment, she knew just how lucky she was to be the one Kara ran to, the one she chose to share her victories with. She was Kara's person, and that realization made her heart swell with love.

Back at Lena's apartment, Kara carefully placed the trophy on the mantel, its golden gleam bringing a touch of warmth to the otherwise sleek and clinical space. As Kara prepared to leave, Lena couldn't bear the thought of being alone in her empty apartment. She turned to Kara, her voice laced with vulnerability. "Kara. Stay tonight?"

Kara's eyes softened, and she nodded, a gentle smile gracing her lips. "Of course, Lena. I'll stay." Her simple response filled Lena's heart with relief.

As they settled on the couch, Kara snuggled into Lena's side, the simple act making Lena's heart ache with happiness. She tightened her arms around Kara. Kara looked up at her, excitement evident in her blue eyes. "You know we also won a lifetime's supply of ice cream, right? How about we go get some and have a movie night?"

Lena's breath caught in her throat at the casual mention of "we," a promise of a lifetime spent enjoying simple pleasures together. It was a promise of a lifetime spent with the person she loved most. She couldn't help but smile as she followed Kara out of the apartment to get ice cream.

As they walked down the street, once again hand in hand, Lena couldn't help but think that she had never been this happy in her whole life. Kara brought so much light and joy into her world. They had each other, a lifetime's supply of ice cream, and their love. And in that moment, Lena knew that she had everything she ever wanted.

[kittyarchitect]

Snapper is a 208 moon old cream golden tipped cat. They are the captain of their gang. They have ocean blue eyes and a gigantic body. They are callous.

[little-game-pv]

alrighty! what'cha doin here pal? just hanging out? plotting murder?

... hiding a body?

-🐇 Anon

Pure vanilla laughs while petting the platypus on his lap, "I have murdered but it's been a while... last time..."

(Yes this was taken from the little game book)

A bluebird flew onto his open windowsill, chirping at him until he answered. Knowledge perked up and smiled, thanking the bird until he noticed how sad it seemed.  

“He’s dead isn’t he…?”     

The bird chirped twice: a yes. Knowledge wasn’t surprised. He and Herb both knew the risks when agreeing to the plan. It was bound to happen with the walking danger Pure vanilla was. Still, it saddened him to hear such news. He would be lying if he said he hadn’t grown fond of Herb. Even during the time Black lily was dealing with Pure vanilla, the two continued to send letters to each other. Perhaps he had fallen for the plant cookie. With his leafy green hair and leafy green eyes. The pain was much greater than the loss of Vanilla buttercream. Of course he cared about the queen, but he loved the planter. Loved the way the planter saw life and spoke of nature like it was his child.   

Knowledge knew a day like this would come. The day were the bird chirped twice. Every time he had asked the bird and it happily chirped once. Today was twice. He knew what was in the letter with Herb’s death. Pure vanilla was still alive. It wasn’t long before the scientist burst into sobs, hugging the letter as close as he could. It crumpled in his arms, but he didn’t care. This was the closest he’d get to holding Herb’s dead body. He had no clue if Elder faerie would let him bury Herb. He hoped so. He truly did.  

A few days later, they were at Herb’s house. The plants in pots had been placed in the ground. His snappers were still alive, having been fed before Herb’s death. Either that or Pure vanilla fed them before taking what food was left. The bloody knife sat on the wooden floors, reminding Knowledge exactly who did this. Knowledge kicked the knife and cursed out Pure vanilla, as Elder faerie led him to Herb’s corpse. Immediately Knowledge hugged Herb, sobbing his heart out as the three looked at him with sorrow in their eyes.  

Knowledge could care less about Golden cheese and Black lily looking at him with pity. Yet it hurt to see Elder faerie look at him like that because he knew Elder faerie cared. Did everything, almost a little too much sometimes, for him. The pain wouldn’t go away, and he hated it. He hated letting go of Herb so they could put him in the makeshift grave they dug. Slowly he set Herb in the grave, giving him a peck on the lips. A kiss they never got to have while Herb was alive. Never would ever get to have. And then he was back to sobbing as they buried him in the ground, leaving him with the many potted plants Herb had. Plants he took home and took care of from then on.  

Pure vanilla smiled, "It was fun. As for plans...well that depends."

Burning spice glares Pure vanilla.

[laurelslegacy]

Ok so I’ve been via request and because I wanted to, been writing a lemon (p0rn for those younger whipper snappers) with Clarazeb and Kallus.

Now that’s fun BUT the interactions between Hera and Kallus are GOLDEN

Spoilers under the cut

Hera crossed her arms standing just outside the Ghost “Sanitize and clean up after yourselves. I have all exits locked so neither can she easily escape or will you two be bothered. You have one hour.”

Kallus rolled his eyes “I said I was just going to TALK with her.”

“Oh trust me she needs far more than that!”

“That will be up to Clarazeb.”

With all the work and sacrifices that Kallus had made the level of respect Hera had for him was decent, but that statement had her respect for Kallus three fold.

“As long as you are able to help her. I’ll wear headphones.” she put a hand on his shoulder “And, stop getting bit.”

Kallus gave a smirk “But maybe I like it.”

Flushing she just put a hand up, standing up to head back to her room.

[twstrhythm]

“Rain or shine, I’ll be here to help! You can count on me.”

Technical Information: Name: Hongyan Ruan Nicknames: Emperor Red Snapper (Floyd); Monsieur Rouge (Rook); A-Yan (cousins); YanYan (Xiaobai) Voice Actor: Junichi Suwabe (Diamant, Fire Emblem Engage)

Biological Information: Gender: Male Pronouns: He/Him Age: 310 Birthday: April 11 Star Sign: Aries Height: 185 cm Hair color: Dark red Eye color: Orange Homeland: Xianglong Zhigong Family: See Here

Professional Status: School: Night Raven College Dorm: Scarabia School Year: 3rd Class: 3-C Student Number: 1 Occupation: Student Club: Track and Field Best Subject: Ancient Incantations

Fun facts: Dominant hand: Right Favorite Food: Stir-fried chicken with chili and Sichuan pepper Least Favorite Food: Mayonnaise Dislikes: Failure; Failing; Disappointing others Hobbies: Reading poems Talents: Can read more than one language

Appearance: Hongyan has long dark red hair with a few lighter strands. He has amber colored eyes and a pair of golden horns. He wears the standard school uniform for Night Raven College.

Personality: Hongyan is a proud person. He is highly confident and tends to think he is able to do many things. However, he still admires those who are older than him and tries to learn from them. He is afraid of disappointing other people, so he tries not to fail at the things he does or tries to do. He works hard because he does not want people to look down on him.

Background: Hongyan hails from Xianglong Zhigong. He lives with his younger brother, Xiaobai and parents. For the longest time, he had not known who his relatives were. His parents had been secretive about them, but he never asked questions because he did not want to upset them. Only after he had been accepted into Night Raven College did he meet his relatives. Much to his surprise, they were people he had spoken to before while back home.

Skills and Abilities:

Intelligence: Hongyan is a very smart person, and he is very capable of thinking his way through different situations.

Cunning: He is a cunning individual capable of getting people to trust him with just his words. He uses this skill to get people to give him information that he could later use against them later on.

Magical Skill: He is skilled in magic, particularly water magic. He has great control over his magic, and he is able to minimize damage done to his surroundings.

Dragon Transformation: Hongyan is capable of transforming into a dragon.

Enhanced Speed: He has enhanced speed and is capable of keeping up with a fast moving car in his dragon form.

Enhanced Strength: He has enhanced strength in dragon form.

Extra Flexible: He is extra flexible in his dragon form.

Flight: He is capable of flying despite having no wings in dragon form.

Spatial Awareness: He is aware of what goes on his surroundings at all times. As such, he is a light sleeper.

Unique Magic: Hongyan’s Unique Magicis called Let There Be Rain. It allows him to create rain. Sometimes it can come in the form of a storm if he channels enough magic. However, it can only last for a short amount of time. Using it allows him to walk on water.

Chant: "There are bright days ahead, do not despair. Let There Be Rain!"

Trivia:

Hóng (红) meaning red, vermillion, blush

Yàn (彦) meaning elegant, handsome, learned

Ruǎn (阮) which refers to a type of musical instrument, similar to a lute.

Xianglong Zhigong (翔龙之宫) literally meaning Kingdom/palace of flying dragons.