#thank you for letting me be self indulgent!

[filomiya]

PARTY CANDLES ! – prod. filomiya

characters – mualani , kinich , xilonen , citlali , mavuika ( takes place after the 5.3 aq !! )

THEM , when its your birthday ( bullet headcanons based on their birthday messages )

notes : ITS MY BIRTHDAY CHAT CAN YOU BELIEVE IT 6th january wowowowo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is very self indulgent if you cant tell but i might do a fontaine version of this later if i feel like it or continue with the other natlan characters or mayb. with vbs WHATEVER ill see!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! might be ooc plz correct me if theyre ooc .. . . . . . .. . . .. . . . . . . .

MUALANI

planned her surprise one week in advance.

but how could she not? shes your partner, afterall! and never expect the least from mualani, she will ALWAYS do the most!!

booked the best restaurant for you, making sure most of the dishes would be liked by both you and the guests. also threw in a few of your favourite desserts, but she kept insisting on making those herself along with the cake… where does she find the time!?

you had the party take place from noon to night, living it to the fullest, next to her ( and the other guests i GUESS. ) but the inevitable happened – exhaustion. on your part, atleast. mualani still had a surprise in store for you. and what is better than a reserved hot spring for the both of you after so much activity?

this was a much more relaxed way to celebrate the afterparty, but a little time between you two doesnt hurt anyone! she’d end the day with a kiss, and a content ‘happy birthday.’

KINICH

he had planned two surprises total. not more, not less.

after the usual small talk he’d ensue, kinich would remind ajaw of the conversation they had hours prior. thankfully, you were one of the humans the almighty dragon liked, so it didnt take long for him to give in.

turning into his actual dragon form ( and holding back some complaints ), you and your partner hopped onto his back for a sky stroll across the landscapes of natlan. it was filled with casual chatting, ajaw occasionally joining.

while you expected to be brought back to the place you were before, the dragon instead dropped you two off on a high, secluded cliff with the best view to the stadium. laid there was a picnic blanket, and you almost called kinich a sap.

truly, one of the best people you couldve spent your birthday with.

XILONEN

you thought youd get special treatment? well, you thought well.

usually, she’d get her friends actual useful gifts ( allegedly, in her eyes ) like a set of tools, or something for their hobbies, because in what situation could sappy presents be functional? if you prefer sentimental value over functional things, be her guest!

but you were her fully fledged partner. no WAY she could gift you JUST tools.

being the blacksmith of the children of the echoes, she has access to some of the best stones out there. you bet she’d search all about birthstones and use yours into making some of the most refined jewelry. i could see her also do a bouquet of handi-picked flowers on your preferred colours. paper wrapping included!!

all of that combined with a reservation to the restaurant youve been gushing about… if that isnt special treatment, then what is?

CITLALI

at her age, she wouldnt have thought she would find someone, let alone friends, or someone like you!

so she didnt bat an eye to gift giving, mostly. occasionally, for whenever it was one of her people’s birthday, she’d offer the usual gift card or blessings. but with you in the picture now, she doesnt know what to do!!

her first thought was to give you some volumes from her light novels collection, which she did proceed with, but she had to think of a plan B. no way she could turn to her grandson, for all he’d have to offer is his finest pick of vegetables…

and before she knew it, your birthday came. so all she had to offer were the novels. it was so underwhelming in her eyes… but thank god you reassured her than even only drinking with her was enough.

MAVUIKA

for her, small and thoughtful gifts are always the go-to.

something motivational, that you can look back to and reminisce about – but you didnt expect her to gift you a small notebook. correction, actually – a small album. it was filled with photos you took through your time together, and letters she poured her feelings into. 

it was obvious it took her sweet time to put it together, probably did it during her time off as an occupation. if you asked her about it, you wouldve found out your guess wasnt far off. instead, you thanked her in her own way – whether it be words, physical affection or acts of service (on your own birthday tho..??) 

another thing mavuika would offer is a delightful night stroll with her motorbike. cliche x2, i know, but not before serving some of the best cake she had baked for you! dont ask her where or how, or do, do whatever you want…. (xilonens house.)

just hold onto her if she decides to pick the speed up as a way to wake you from your daydreams.

filomiya : any acts of plagiarism of my works are strictly prohibited. credits to the divider creators.

[farfromstrange]

Pink Eye | Matt Murdock x Reader

Matt Murdock Masterlist

Summary: You start the new year with a bad case of conjunctivitis and a cold. As annoyed as you are about it, fortunately for you, you have a very doting boyfriend to take care of you.

Warnings: Cursing, sickness, fluff.

WC: 1.2k

A/n: This is totally self-indulgent, and my first fic after a month (or so)! Don't worry, you're still getting those other Fictober prompts, this is just something that came to my mind yesterday and I had to write it. I wish I had a Matt Murdock to take care of me, so I wrote this. I hope I'm not too rusty.

Read Me On AO3!

The cold compress seeps into the swollen skin of your eyelids, though it offers only a small reprieve from the ache and itchiness that make you want to claw your eyes out like a feral cat under attack.

Tissues lay strewn around the coffee table, each one soaked in tears and whatever else came out when you wiped them dry. The apartment reminds you more of the set of a bad chick-flick rather than a home. Most of the time it resembles a crime scene or a poorly supplied hospital when your risk-friendly boyfriend decides he just has to get himself into another fight for the greater good, but this New Year’s, the only casualty that came out of the holidays is you—defeated by your own immune system. 

You haven’t been properly sick in a year. For 366 days, you’ve been free of any viral or bacterial infections, and the one time you decide to have dinner with your family you end up with a nasty infection: conjunctivitis. Yes, you started the new year with fucking pink eye and a cold, and now you’re stuck at home for your last few days off work, feeling miserably sorry for yourself.

“Here,” Matt appears in your one functioning line of sight with a bowl of soup in hand, “You need to eat something.”

“Thank you,” you say through a congested nose, and he can’t help but smile at how adorable that sounds.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like I want to put a finger into my eye and scratch it out.”

He raises his eyebrows. “So, not good?”

You shake your head. “I’m annoyed. And in pain. And I can’t fucking breathe!” As if to underline your frustration, your lungs constrict and you cough up a not-so-delicious ball of phlegm. 

Matt’s hand instantly moves to your back, rubbing gentle circles until the oxygen returns to where it needs to be. Your breathing becomes rapid before it slows down again, and you swallow.

“Fuck me,” you mumble.

“When you’re feeling better,” he retorts almost cheekily, but the joke doesn’t get much of a response. He knows how miserable you are. He can hear it in the way you breathe, your elevated heartbeat, and the pulsing of the skin around the infected eye. You wear your discomfort on your very sleeves. He doesn’t want to imagine what it feels like for you.

Instead of joking any more, Matt gently removes the compress from your eye. “Let me get you a new one,” he offers. Your first instinct is to cover up. It baffles him; you haven’t hidden from him in a very long time.

Matt takes your hand and places it back down in your lap, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Don’t do that.” 

“I look like I got into a fight,” you say.

At that, he reaches out, fingers gently brushing just above your brow, down your temple, and over the apple of your cheek. He can feel the heat radiating from your skin, the inflammation that’s causing your eye to swell, but the picture his fingertips paint is a stark contrast to your own description. 

“No, you don’t,” he says. And Matt knows better than anyone what one might look like after a fight.

His touch is so gentle, far away from where you’re hurting but close enough to feel his need to fix you. To heal you. To take your pain away and make it his own just so you wouldn’t have to suffer anymore. Your heart flutters like a newborn butterfly. You look into his hazel eyes, how soft they are, and it makes you melt. If you could only see yourself the way he sees you... The way he loves you seems like a gift from God himself. 

His touch disappears, and you bite back a pathetic whimper. “Be right back,” he says.

You watch as he rises to his feet and heads back to the kitchen, grabbing another cool compress from the fridge before returning to your side.

“There you go.” He places it against your eye and holds it there. “So you can eat.”

You want to say, ‘You’re doing too much’, but then you realize that you’re with the kind of man who would shoulder the world for you even when he’s already drowning to make sure life is just a little easier for you. And while that feels like entirely too much, more than you deserve, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him to stop. Not that he would do so, anyway. 

Every bone in your body aches, but the pain blurs in comparison to what he makes you feel. 

You take the bowl of soup he prepared and dig in. It’s your favorite, yet scarcely seasoned to not irritate your throat any further. When your stomach is finally full and he’s satisfied, he reaches for the bottle of eyedrops standing tall amongst the graveyard of tissues. He knows to think about everything when you can’t. 

“Lean back,” he instructs softly. 

“I don’t want you to get sick,” you protest. 

“I won’t. I know you hate doing this yourself. Now lean back.”

He’s even more stubborn when you’re sick, but only because you’re stubborn, too. You don’t protest further, simply leaning your head back to give him better access. 

Matt gently searches for your lower lid with his fingers, pulling it back ever so gently before squeezing the first drop in. Then, he moves on to the second eye. Your eyes instinctively squeeze shut at the sudden intrusion. It burns. Will it ever stop, you wonder? 

“I’m sorry,” he wipes away any excess tears threatening to escape, “it’ll get better in a second.” 

You huff a breath of disapproval, but not at his words. “I’m never visiting my family again unless they give me a detailed list of who’s sick,” you say. 

Matt stutters for a moment, then bursts out laughing.

“I’m serious! Small children are little Petri dishes, carrying viruses and bacteria that continue to mutate into God knows what. Petri dishes, Matthew!” 

You sound so beside yourself, he can’t help himself. He adds the used tissue to the coffee table pile and pulls you into his arms, his laugh rumbling against the top of your head as he presses his lips against your heated scalp. “This is New York, sweetheart,” he says, “the entire city is a Petri dish.”

“And I will avoid it like the plague if I have to.”

He chuckles. “Okay.” A pause, and then, “You’re so much moodier when you’re sick.”

If you had the strength you would smack his pretty face for that statement alone, but you really, really don’t. You can barely sit up on your own. So, you nudge him with your elbow and grumble, “Shut up.”

With a bright smile on his face, he gives you another squeeze. “I love you too,” he says.

You squeeze his bicep three times to assure him that yes, you do love him, and you can’t help but think that perhaps being coddled in Matt Murdock’s arms while recovering from a little infection isn’t so bad, after all. It certainly could be worse. 

fluff tag list: @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @thatonegamefish @amberritonicole @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart @ethereal-blaze @littleagxs @ravenclaw617 @lucienofthelakes @steve-chandler @mochie-is-a-librarian

[marvolos]

Hold Me While You Wait

PAIRING: Cho Hyun Ju x gender neutral reader

SYNOPSIS: Cho Hyun-ju has known loss, but nothing compares to holding the lifeless body of the only person who ever truly believed in her. As they die in her arms, their final plea for comfort shatters her. Consumed by guilt over her choices in the deadly games, she is left alone in the silence of her grief, forced to confront the price of survival in a world that offers no mercy.

GENRE: angst

WARNINGS: blood, death, grief, guilt and self-blame

NOTES: i have literally been obsessed with hyunju since i finished watching s2 and the lack of fics made me want to attempt my own hand at writing (thank u to the people who requested this!!). please keep in mind that this is my absolute first time indulging into fanfic writing rather than relying on reading others' works so i would love some constructive criticism!! english is not my first language so i apologise if there are errors, this is not proof read.

Cho Hyun-ju was no stranger to the cruel intimacy of loss. It clung to her like a shadow, its touch cold and unrelenting. She had lost so many she had once dared to love, the echoes of their departures a constant ache in her chest. Friends, companions, confidants—each had slipped through her grasp the moment she chose to trust them, her vulnerability rewarded with betrayal as sharp and merciless as any blade. Yet, as she knelt there now, cradling the almost lifeless body of the only soul who had never faltered in their belief in her, she realized she had never truly understood pain. Not like this.

“Hyun-ju...” Their voice was weak, little more than a whisper. She leaned closer, her tears falling onto their face as she brushed a strand of hair from their blood-streaked forehead.

“I’m here,” she choked out, her voice cracking. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. Just...stay with me.”

A faint smile tugged at their lips, so familiar yet so fragile it made her chest ache. “Liar,” they murmured, their words tinged with bittersweet amusement. “We both know...I’m not making it out of this.”

“Don’t say that!” Hyun-ju snapped, her hands pressing desperately against the wound in their chest. “You’re not leaving me. You promised! You said we’d survive this together!”

Their hand, slick with blood, reached up to cup her cheek. The gesture was weak, trembling, but the tenderness in their touch was unmistakable. “Hyun-ju,” they said, their gaze locking onto hers with a heartbreaking intensity. “Just...hold me.”

Her breath hitched. “No, I can stop the bleeding, I—”

“Please,” they interrupted, their voice so soft it broke her. “There’s no time. I don’t want to die alone... Just...let me feel safe. One last time.”

Hyun-ju’s vision blurred with tears, but she obeyed, gathering them closer against her chest. She buried her face in their hair, her sobs muffled as she clung to them like a lifeline. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her words trembling with the weight of her grief. “I’m here. I’ll stay with you. Always.”

“Thank you,” they murmured, their voice barely audible now. “You...made it all worth it. Even this.”

“No,” Hyun-ju cried, her tears falling faster. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t leave me. Please...”

But their breathing slowed, each ragged inhale weaker than the last. Their hand fell from her cheek, limp at their side.

“I love you,” they whispered, the words so faint she barely caught them. And then, silence.

Hyun-ju’s world shattered.

Her beloved’s blood soaked through her fingers, warm and sticky, as if it carried the remnants of the life now slipping away. Hyun-ju's arms tightened around them as if she could hold their spirit in place, refusing to let death take what was hers. But their chest no longer rose with breath, and their once-bright eyes had dulled, staring blankly at a sky that offered no solace.

Hyun-ju's mind screamed at her to do something—anything—but her body was paralyzed, shackled by despair. The memory of a promise whispered in the tender quiet of midnight played cruelly in her head: We’ll face this together. Forever. That word mocked her now, hanging heavy with unfulfilled dreams, as eternity dissolved into a fleeting, fragile moment that ended too soon.

This was her fault.

The realization hit like a tidal wave, threatening to drag her under. Every choice she had made, every desperate gamble to survive, had led to this. She had believed she was fighting for their future—for their chance to escape the grasp of the brutal games that reduced human lives to fodder for the amusement of the elite. But instead, her choices had forged the very blade that now severed their shared hopes and dreams.

Her thoughts spiraled back to the first moment she saw them, standing on the shoreline, now just the pieces of a faint memory. The sea had stretched endlessly behind them, a restless expanse of possibility. Their smile had been like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, offering her something she had almost forgotten—hope. For the first time in years, she had felt seen, understood, as if their very presence whispered, you belong.

In the games, that hope had been her anchor. They had stood by her through every blood-streaked challenge, every moment of terror when the line between life and death blurred. They had trusted her when no one else would, had defended her when she didn’t deserve it.

And now they were gone.

That fleeting sense of belonging had been torn from her, ripped apart by the blood-soaked machinery of the games. She wanted to blame them—the faceless architects of this hell—but deep down, she knew it was her own hand that had led them here. Stay for one more game, she had told herself, clinging to the illusion that they could endure just a little longer, that she could outwit the odds. And now...now, that decision had cost her everything.

The weight of her grief pressed down on her chest, suffocating. Her vision blurred with tears, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. What did it matter now? The world was a cruel, hollow place, and mourning was all she had left.

Her hands shook as she pressed them to the wound in their chest, futilely trying to stem the flow of blood. But it was pointless. The games didn’t allow for miracles.

The loudspeaker crackled to life above her, the voice cutting through her despair like a blade.

“Contestant 024 eliminated. Remaining contestants, return to the starting line for the next round.”

Hyun-ju’s breath hitched. The next round. It never ended. The games didn’t stop for grief, didn’t pause for the dead. They demanded obedience, demanded survival at any cost.

But what was the point of surviving now?

Her gaze shifted to the others still standing at the edge of the arena, their faces pale, their eyes averted. They had seen what happened, knew it could just as easily have been them. The games had robbed them all of their humanity, turning them into hollow shells, desperate only to live another day. Sympathy was a luxury the games didn’t allow.

“What was the point?” she choked out, her voice raw and broken. The words fell into the stillness around her, unanswered, as if the universe itself had turned its back on her suffering.

She looked down at her beloved’s face, tracing every line and feature with trembling fingers. How often had those lips spoken words of reassurance, promises that they’d make it through together? How often had those eyes met hers with unwavering faith, even when the world seemed intent on breaking them both?

Now, they were gone. And she remained. A cruel joke, an empty punishment for sins she could never atone for.

Hyun-ju pressed her forehead to theirs, her tears mingling with the blood between them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking with the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies. “I’m so, so sorry.”

But the silence that greeted her was deafening, a reminder that forgiveness would never come.

The night stretched on, oppressive and eternal, as she sat there in the crimson pool of her regret, mourning not just the love she had lost but the pieces of herself that had died with them.

hold me while you wait — © marvolos, 2025.

[twotwinks]

rain + bankita

woo yay my first ever bankita fic! it was so hard to write actually whoops. yu's voice didn't come as easily to me as some of my other little guys, so it took a few tries for things to start feeling right. hopefully this isn't an indication of how future attempts will go!

send me a fall prompt! 🍂

(also available on ao3 for registered users!)

It had started pouring down rain in the early afternoon, seemingly out of nowhere and to most people's surprise. Yu was lucky enough to have an umbrella on him, but he knew there were plenty of others who hadn't been so fortunate. People rushed past him as he walked home, trying to escape the downpour as quickly as possible. Still others crowded under awnings, eaves, bus stops — anywhere that provided even a bit of cover.

Yu eventually spotted a familiar face among that crowd, pressed up against a building to avoid as much of the shower as he could. With his blue hair slicked down and clothes dripping nonstop, he looked for all the world like one of the stray cats Yu often cared for. Still, there was no mistaking who it was. Yu quickly changed course and headed for his friend’s hiding spot.

He came to a stop in front of the boy and offered up a smile. “Minato, hi.”

"Oh. Hey." The very corner of Minato's mouth twitched up in response.

Minato looked a little strange without his signature headphones and mp3 player, both instead safely tucked away in his bag out of the rain. He seemed to feel out of place without them too, fidgeting with his collar and shifting his weight from foot to foot. Eventually he leaned out from beneath his cover to peer idly up at the sky, watching to see if the rain showed any signs of letting up.

Yu tilted his head towards the right side of Minato's face, where his eye was now completely obscured behind the bangs plastered to his face. “Can you even see out of that eye?”

"Not really."

"Here." Without thinking, Yu reached up to brush away the sheet of hair, carefully unsticking it from Minato's skin. Minato went still under his touch, simply staring at the ground between their feet without a sound.

The change in his posture was subtle, but still enough to make Yu aware of what he was doing. He pulled his hand back sheepishly. "Sorry. I should've asked first."

Minato blinked a few times, seeming to reorient himself. "It's fine."

The unusual quietness of his voice made Yu doubt that it really was.

He took a step back and lightly cleared his throat. He’d nearly forgotten why he’d gone over to Minato in the first place, but this seemed like as good an opportunity as any to bring it up. "Why don't I walk you home? You'll stay drier that way." He raised his umbrella slightly, a physical invitation to join him.

"No, I’m alright." At least Minato sounded like himself again. "I'd probably bump into you and get you wet too."

"I don't mind. A little water won't hurt me."

Minato considered for a minute more, then nodded slightly. "Okay. If you’re sure." He stepped out from under his shelter and slid quickly into place alongside Yu. “Um. Thanks.”

“It’s no problem. I’m glad I saw you so I could help you out.”

The pair fell into step together easily, making small talk as they went. Yu found himself leading the conversation more often than not, with Minato only chiming in every now and then. It was a weird feeling. He was used to being the quiet one in situations like this, but Minato somehow managed to speak even less than Yu normally would. It seemed…sad, in a way, like he felt that he had to hold back like this. Yu started making attempts to engage him more in the conversation. He wanted Minato to feel safe around him, like he didn’t have to hide so much.

They soon came to a stop at a crosswalk, and sure enough, Minato bumped his elbow into Yu’s arm.

"Oh. Sorry." Minato quickly finished crossing his arms, presumably to try and keep himself warm. He peered up at Yu from beneath his bangs and almost-smiled again. "Told you that would happen."

"And I told you it wouldn't hurt me." In fact, the slightly damp patch on Yu's sleeve was nowhere near as concerning to him as the actions of the boy by his side. It hadn’t occurred to him that Minato was likely to get chilled from his earlier drenching. They probably needed to get him someplace warm soon. "Hey. My place is closer than yours. Why don't you come over for a while? You can dry off and maybe wait out the rain.”

Minato turned his head to properly look up at Yu, sporting his usual impossible-to-parse expression with his mouth slightly open. Yu wondered if he’d actually managed to catch him off guard with the sudden invitation. He smiled, hoping it would be encouraging. Minato watched him for a moment more, then turned and stared down at the pavement.

“Sure.” His voice was soft again, but in a completely different way than it had been earlier.

Yu fumbled for words for a few seconds. "Oh. Um. Alright. Good." He hadn’t realized just how much he’d wanted Minato to say yes. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy to convince him, either. Minato had always been the kind of guy to just go with the flow, but he was also notorious for keeping his distance from pretty much everyone. Maybe he’d also decided it would be best for his health. Or maybe he’d actually wanted to come over?

Yu was pretty sure it was the first thing, but just the thought of the second made his chest feel funny.

They set off together once again, now headed towards their new destination. It might have just been Yu’s imagination, but Minato seemed more willing to talk on the way. Maybe this whole thing really had let them get a little closer to each other.

And if not, there would still be plenty of time before the rain stopped.

[hajihiko]

💕

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Snap: *draws a Megaman-inspired Magneto*

Me: ...Perfect modernization.

wait now that its not 3AM i can do you one Slightly better

bonus:

[wanderingibon]

a flock of birds, a crow family — everything aside, despite viago's frosty, stern demeanor I think both he and teia care about rook like family, in a way that goes past the pretenses of being a crow or just part of house de riva, they're literally found family to meeeeee

and while you have time, please consider finding a family on op. olive branch 🍉 and supporting / sharing their campaigns, especially the ones with low funding <3

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

THOUGHTS ON HAPEPHOBIA (fear of touch) READER??

GOJO SATORU .

because of his own unique relationship with touch, i think he’d be a perfect fit for this kind of reader <333 gojo may have a craving for it, but also a deeply rooted fear; his infinity is a soothing blanket that shields him from the world, and i think he’s a lot more dependent on it than he lets on. so, more than anything, he’d be extremely understanding of your fear!!! he doesn’t push for a reason, doesn’t tease you (he does. but just a little. never more than what you’re entirely comfortable with!), just accepts it and moves on. makes sure to never, ever touch you, or make you feel unsafe in his presence. he’s very observant and attentive in general so i think he’d be a great partner for someone with haphephobia <3

and again; gojo gets it!!! touch can be terrifying!!!! so it’s probably a great relief for him too. i think he struggles with intimate touches immensely, in the beginning of a relationship. if the touching isn’t entirely casual or entirely on his terms, it feels so foreign and unconquerable. you show each other that affection and trust can be shown in ways other than physical contact, that it doesn’t change how much you care for one another.

i do also wanna add that if you ever feel comfortable starting a treatment plan for your phobia, he’s with you every step of the way :3 walks you to your appointments and even joins you if you need him to, he’ll also be more than willing to help out if you decide on some form of exposure therapy. just working on making you feel safe, slowly building you up towards even a single tender touch. you can tell that he’s a little scared, too, even if he really doesn’t show it — and i think that helps.

buuuut either way, he loves you and accepts you for who you are <333 no matter what. he’ll be right by your side, just grazing the back of your shirt with his fingers so that his infinity extends to you, and you can walk around with no fear of being touched.

[lavenoon]

h. hamds.

[mothiepixie]

I love them, your honor.

[battlemaiden13]

I made some self insert art! Yay me. I'm actually really proud of how this turned out.

This is Recoil. He's a mafia version of Swapfell Papyrus and I love him. And that's me. The dumbass human.

Recoil belongs to @absurdmageart (whose amazing)

Part 2

[evostrashbin]

a cute little Summoner x Brave!Gullveig Stargazing chibi commission I got to work on for this month ⭐️

[gingermintpepper]

🌈 or 🌥️ (or both if you're feeling it)

EHEHE thank you very much for the ask! Gonna mix both prompts and give something soft with my favourite dialogue of this piece (and it's not even a wip actually, this is just a completed bit of writing I have on hand that I'm not really planning on doing anything with) which asks the question I'm pretty sure only I have asked: what if Apollo was the one to tell Heracles that he had to head to the Underworld after he'd lost Hylas during the Argo Expedition (also he consoles him a little).

"It'll never get easier, will it? This life."

Phoebus Apollo doesn't answer him. Before, Heracles would've blamed it on ego, the vanity of the gods who think themselves so much better than the mortals they yank about with their power. Now, Heracles thinks he's just a figment of his imagination, another twisted trick brought on by that bitch of the Heavens. The silence stretches on and on, only the sound of his digging and the quiet rustle of fabric fills the space between them. Were Hylas still here, he'd happily fill this stale air, nattering on and on about herbs or the colour of the fish in the lake, or the beauty of the stars between the treetops. Now, the silence is oppressive. Dense. Like the weight of water pushing all the air from his lungs.

Heracles quickly takes the bundle of Hylas' meagre things and throws it into the hole. Best not to dwell on it. Especially not when an Olympian was right beside him. (Maybe it's a good thing that this illusion is so placid. Gives him space to breathe. To think.)

He spits, picks up the flint. "Can't answer that one either? How about an easier question then," the sparks catch on the edge of Hylas' silk belt, quickly eating up the precious gift. Hylas only got to wear it once when they'd celebrated the night before the Argo set sail. He'd wanted to bring it home for his mother. "Was I also cursed to be alone for the rest of my life? It's not enough that she took my family, she's going to take everyone that treats me well too?"

Phoebus Apollo remains silent, fire turning his body warm gold. Heracles clicks his tongue, anger mounting. First Megara then Pholus and now Hylas. Man, woman, beast, it didn't matter at all, did it? All would die if they loved him. Everything would melt away like ash on his tongue and she would keep him alive just to see him squirm.

"Don't just sit there fiddling with your cloth damn it, answer me!"

Phoebus Apollo looks up then. Eyes so gold they seem to burn their own colour, calm brow, stern lips. This wasn't the playful god who refused to let him take his sister's hind without proving his worth, nor was it the distant prophet outlining the sentence for his crimes. This was someone, something else entirely and Heracles can only swallow his tongue in the face of it.

"Come," he beckons with the slightest tilt of his chin, "sit here." Heracles does. "You ask difficult questions. Ones I have no intention of answering." Slender fingers do not falter in their sewing. Heracles watches all the fine bracelets and rings jostle only slightly as the god makes his stitches. "For that, I must apologise."

Heracles snorts, dismissive and looks out into Hylas' fire, "You lot have never cared to inconvenience me before. What is one more disappointment to add to pile?"

A grim smile dances at the edge of his painted lips, "What, indeed."

"If you aren't here to answer my prayers, then you must have another errand for me." And doesn't that just make his blood boil? Even now, when Hylas' pyre has not yet burnt out, the gods still demand more from him, still drive him harder. He digs his nails into the tooth of the rock they share, hopes it is enough to keep him from laying hands on his divine slave-driver's throat and ripping it right out. "Make it quick. Even you must understand the rules of mourning."

Phoebus Apollo's smile widens. He ties off his thread and cuts the excess length with the side of his fingernail. "On the contrary, I've come bearing a gift." Unfurling the length of cloth reveals a gorgeous chamlys, etchings like constellations dotting its dark length and shimmering even in the firelight. "A gift and a word of warning"

Heracles swallows thickly, such rich cloth would surely need to be hidden from his cousins. "If you think a fancy cloak is enough to gloss everything over -"

A laugh, soft and musical. Lighter than Hylas' chuckles, sweeter even than Megara's hidden giggles. How dangerous. How lovely. "Alcides, be calm. I have nothing to hide and there is nothing you could possibly give to me. You already have my gratitude for not harming my offspring, it would please me greatly if you also accepted my boon."

"The cloth is hexed?" It feels no different from a usual chamlys, maybe just a bit softer. Phoebus Apollo laughs again, richer this time so that it resonates in the very base of Heracles' bones and sends little electric sparks shooting all across his body.

"Indeed. It will keep you hidden from the eyes of the Lord and Lady of the Underworld. Do take it with you when next you set foot in their kingdom."

A terrible chill slithers down his back. Hylas' fire pops. "What's the meaning of this?" And Heracles forgets himself, digs his hands into the lush fabric of the god's chiton and wrests him close, "You think it's funny delivering my funeral gown now? When Hylas' body hasn't even cooled?"

Phoebus Apollo hums, brilliant eyes gazing calmly up at him, "I think it should be a great boon if ever your spirit wishes to wander in the great fields of Asphodel should you make the trip."

[bapplenana]

honestly, i am so glad i am not the only one who's down bad for this smexy shinigami

i mean, look at HIM

[ilonacho]

doodlin some cute shit inbetween coms oh god

[moe-broey]

Borrowing