[~Trompy]

I am so excited to be a part of another event! I am in love with this prompt theme, how about you?

prize 1 adopt (here) | prize 2 adopt

Prompt 7

"What relationships changed for your viscets over the summer?"

Summer is a time for change, and sometimes that change involves making new friends... or losing some. What relationships have changed for your viscets this summer?

Rules/Limits:

There is a minimum requirement of 500 words OR 2 pieces of art for your form to qualify.
There is a maximum of 2500 words or 6 art pieces.
Art does not have to be colored to qualify.
If you choose art, you can have 100 words per image to describe the scene a little (if you are afraid it's unclear).
Your images may include words, but they count in the 100 words per image rule.

This prompt will be open from 7/16 to 7/23, 10:00 PM CST. Please note that this time is final. There are no extensions!

Mutations:
Mermaid Tail - Event Rare

[fromage]

My loves,
Keahi, and Lynne, I hope you two are doing alright without me. I apologize I had to leave on such a short notice, there was a war I had to assist Emmett with. It's done with now, but I won't be returning for the time being. I can't say how long because I don't know. All I know is, please, please, don't send Maile to find me. They, the Gilled, wants her where I am.

When I was returning home, on the way I stumbled upon an odd looking whirlpool, and I tried to steer to avoid being sucked in. The current pulled me in, and.. there's an underwater city. The Gilled said they will keep me down here for long as they can until someone sends Maile as a hostage exchange. Please don't fret, I will find my way out of here, I will return to you three even if it takes me decades.

Don't forget me,
Varuna Sharp

Vary,
This is the tenth letter I am writing to you without any response. I don't desire to assume that you're no longer with us, but it's been seven years. Lynne has accepted that you lied about what you said in your letter to avoid having a family despite my attempts at telling her the truth. I found another child to adopt too, her name is Hoku, she gets along with Maile wonderfully. The whole family knows about.. The Gilled's wants to have Maile with them, and they agree with you. We're not sending Maile away for you, but.. please, please, come back to me, us.

I miss you so much, there's not a day that gone by I don't think about you. You're always on my mind every waking hour. I fret for the day I die and you're not at my side. I don't know what I can do to get you back, but I'm willing to try every opinion there is.

I have attached a small painting of Hoku that Ohana did to ensure you know who she is when you ever come back.

Love,
Keahi Tilo

Dear Keahi,
Picture my surprise when I received this letter, and painting of.. Hoku? The Gilled? Lynne? Maile? I don't have the answers you're looking for. I deeply apologize, I think you may have misunderstood me for someone else. For past fifteen years I have been sailing the seas, searching for treasures, and fishing. Whoever you're trying to write to, I apologize on their behalf.

You sounded like you loved them very much, I hope they return to you one day.

Sincerely,
Varuna Sharp

My love,
I am terribly sorry. Your letter to me from three years ago had always stayed on my mind. To be honest, my memory had been at it's most haziest, I recalled I had someone I loved, a family, but I couldn't put faces to feelings. Being alone out in the seas nagged my mind at every possible moment. I sought out Harlow Dread to get answers, and I'm so, so, horribly sorry, Keahi. In my successful escape from the underwater city a month into imprisonment wiped my memory. Harlow lifted the curse, and now I remember everything I had forgotten.

I hope you didn't forget me, I know it's been ten years since you last saw me, but I sincerely hope I still remain in your heart.

Love me again,
Vary

Vary,
Of course, I would never forget you. No words can describe how elated I am to hear from you with your memories returned. So much things had changed in your absence. Too many to list, how would you feel about returning to Trilet Shore, back to the family and catch up? Everyone is excited to see you again.

I didn't need to love you again, I will always love you no matter the circumstances and you will always have a place in my heart.

Always,
Keahi

[QueenAxolotl]

Rai and Gloe's wedding

[ultimate writer.]

Res

[Razors]

Merk

[Unleashed Squiid]

There was no other words to describe her than a true character, a free bird. Delilah had an attitude that didn’t allow for failure. She did what she wanted, whenever she fancied, and couldn’t give less of a damn about what the world thought. She didn’t have many friends but it was obvious that she still did had a single affection for Dune, who typically swayed to her ways of thinking to avoid most conflicts. It was rare of her to be generous to others, and she didn’t trust outsiders easily, but Dune admired her stubbornness, though he often worried that she would upset the wrong folks.

The two were part of an agency that would easily determine the future of this realm for good. Making any mistakes, no matter how small, could potentially upset a very fine line of peace. Working in an undercover network of people all trining desperately to fill the current power vacuum with wise viscets who would make powerful leaders wasn’t easy but it was interesting. Though they did have a small collection of potential candidates, the biggest concern wasn’t pushing their own thoughts into the public’s eye, it was destroying those who sought to bring back the previous corrupted government. The one who had plagued the country with genocide of those who were like Dune; those whose brains were different. Powerful.

The viscet turned over his papers on the desk. Boring notes and indoor work for tomorrow onwards. Today though would be interesting.

“If we take down Green, would Target Grey be suspicious...and what about Red. Hm” he clicked his pen and traced the edge around his lip, mildly. He was absolutely lost in thought when there was a tap on his door. The peach face of Delilah slipped by.

“Heya. Ready to roll then? Got ourselves a good suspect today. Heard that he’s a fighter.” She let out a tsst as her eyes soaked in the scene of Dune examining his notes. “You have your eyes in the clouds I see. Well you can think about whatever it is later. Today we have some new toys.” She flung a phone-like shape towards him. “Transmitter.” Delilah said, looking excited. “They said these things will hear you anywhere in the universe but I doubt they’d be able to transfer sound further than maybe one or two realms away.”

“Cool” said Dune, his vacancy fizzing away. “Now you’ll be able to call me in for duty even when I’m back home on vacation.”

She snorted. “Yep. Maybe I’ll do just that. Hey Lady Everett, your son needs to come back to the Scape. We need him to come capture a code-red criminal for us.” She matched his sarcasm perfectly.

“Now you’ve gone too far, how dare you insult my mother.” He snorted in amusement. “Anyways, I’ll catch you down by the office shortly. I’ll be ready soon.”

———

The two were engulfed in darkness. Dune himself was almost blinded except for the single tuft of cream ahead of him which marked Delilah’s tail. Otherwise, a dark curtain had formed, surrounding him and eating all light away from the room. Where are you, Green.

He heard a small click from the corner, and turned sharply to view the location of sound. There was suddenly a whirring in the air. A gust of wing, a pop. “Get down!” Shouted Delilah, and suddenly the air in Dune’s lungs was knocked away as a force pummeled into him. By the smell of her perfume alone, he knew it was her and not a hostile. Lucky viscet.

As his head spun, he heard many shouts, and as he jumped to his feet, he swore that it had only been moments. Clearly not. When they had set out, the room was pitch black from a sunless sky, but now the world was painted in golden light. A sunset. Had he hit his head? His eyes grew large as he searched. There were no signs of anybody around. No Green, and certainly no Delilah. A bile rose in his throat. Where was she? This was his fault.

His bones felt weak. Something must have happened to him; his body was certainly not out of shape, and even a head wound would not leave him fully out of control. The viscet toppled back to the floor again. He stared at nothing in particular except the small sunbeam on the ceiling. And then there was darkness.

———

“They said she was captured by the Green” a voice. It sounded like his captain but oddly muffled. Dune opened his eyes briefly then closed them again, hoping that this was all some sort of terrible dream. The viscet could have sworn he had seen his mother, but that wasn’t possible. She was not one of the gifted ones who could travel to the Scape like he was. This drew on an even worse understanding though—if his mother wasn’t back in the Scape, that meant...no. How was he on Earth? Dune had practically mastered the art of inter-realm-transportation.

Finally after waffling about it, he decided to accept this fate and open his eyes for good. His mother looked down at him, concerned. The voice of his captain was indeed playing through the transmitter.

Though he was zoned out, he heard the faint call of his mother. She was looking at him strangely, and finally broke the news that he was weak and needed rest for a long time. Somewhere within him, Dune felt like a child; the viscet didn't feel like fighting anymore. He had already broken the trust that Delilah had gifted him. He didn’t deserve it.

For a few weeks, he was pitiful, moping around the house in a distant trace. He didn’t understand how something like this could hurt so much, but the very thought of Delilah being trapped, maybe being tortured, maybe... maybe worst of all...no...the thought nauseoued him.

The next emotion came soon enough, a rage which blazed lime a fire. He yelled, kicked the wall, and banged his head into the cabinets in the kitchen. All his fault.

One day when making a ruckus, his shocked mother stroke into the room. She looked him up and down, then took his arm into her hand and sat him down.

“Let’s talk reason, Dune. Reason!” She waited until he was listening to continue. “Now who knows what you do in that fantasy land. I for one, don’t want to know. But sitting here doing nothing at all is the most stupid, useless option you’ve got. If you miss this mystery girl, why don’t you go out there and fight to get her back!” Her words were coarse. They showed no mercy, and even in his own self pity, Dune knew she was right. He wasn’t in a safe frame of mind, he wasn’t even safe, but now, more than ever, he felt motivated to get Delilah back.

———

Within only a few weeks, the Scape’s weather had shifted from a mild autumn to the kind of winter that sends violent chills up one’s spine. Dune shivered as he sat at the edge of the house, waiting, waiting. Waiting for anything at all, movement, a flash of color, a sign of some sort to tell him to move foreward. He knew that this was the place where Delilah was kept. She was alive, thank everything holy and good, and he knew the time was now to save her. His captain had high hopes about this mission.

“Hey! You!” A voice echoed in his ears and he turned to it, a violent wave overcoming him. Hostile located. Green. There was a shot to the wooden frame of the house only inches from his face, and Dune bolted around the corner for shelter. There was a round of shots back and forth but in the end, though he did not want to go into detail, Dune was victorious.

He sped into the house with an icy breath and immediately began to search. Pink fur, pink fur. Another shot blasted, also too close for comfort. He jumped away, and stared into the eyes of an unknown viscet. The enemy was cold. They showed no emotions as they stared at Dune, and he in turn, could see no humanity there.

The viscet suddenly did something unexpected. He lunged at Dune, sending him running. The only open passageway was up the stairs. Hopefully this would not be a dead end. Dune scrambled around, looking for a place to hide. Somewhere where he could see the viscet downstairs but the viscet wouldn’t be able to glimpse him back. A closet? It was worth a shot.

Dune dove into a bedroom, and into the next door following it. Slowly, he heard footsteps tracing the top floor, and a chilling voice from far off, “Where are you?”

Suddenly, “Psst!” The sound was right behind him. Dune jumped, then pointed his gun instinctually at the sound’s origin. “No! Dune wait!”

He froze. “Delilah?”

“Yes! Yes!” He voice was cracked. She must have been crying. “It’s me. Untie me.”

The door behind them shot open before he could even move. He knocked Delilah’s chair to the floor to protect her from the gunfire, then shot a few bullets back at the attacker. In horror, the gunsman stormed the room, and knocked Dune’s weapon away.

Dune sat back, suddenly feeling dread. He blocked an attack with his hands now, but knew that this would have nothing against a bullet. The viscet before him smiled; it was a disgusting sight.

Yet then, it was all over. He was not dead, not shot, not scratched. Delilah had kicked him, then the gun slid across the ground, and the two had grabbed it and turned it against its owner who now sat in handcuffs.

Delilah was set free. She looked Dune in the eyes, her expression so full of emotion that she looked like she was about to burst. Though her frame was far skinnier than before, she conveyed every single thought and feeling, every joy and every sadness into just one motion. And suddenly her lips were joined with his, and everything flooded together into a perfect, solidified moment.

Now once again, Dune thought, the world was good enough for him.

[Placebo]

Friendships Solidify

Ever since Melano's decided to tag alongside Liling in her excursions in hopes of finding answers to her lost heritage and lost memories, she's nearly gone mad with frustration from how many times the male demon has driven her crazy. He seems determined to dog her every step, and despite her best efforts... damn it, he's grown on her. She admits that he's good company to have... when he's not flirting up every dude that walks by, that is. And... not to mention, it's handy to have someone watching her back during a fight.

{94}

Ever since Angel found Melia's spirit wandering aimlessly down in the depths of the ocean, he's made it his mission to help her try and find traces of her father. The deep sea is a world all on its own, however, and danger abounds at every turn down at these levels. Whenever her closest confidant gets hurt, Melia gets beside herself in worry. Angel tries his best to talk her down from any anxiety that arises, but Melia's too frightened at the thought of losing yet another person she's come to love as family.

{94}

Imgur Album Link

[G1 Sunstreaker]

oof, mark

[Thebattleangel]

I just started character development for my custom and I began writing her and her mates story so I thought perfect opportunity c:
Form

Characters:
Jaiyana Rose Harper - Owned by me
Clara Lilium - Owned by me
Drax - Owned by Abraxis
Atriox - Owned by Abraxis
Drax and Atriox are used with permission~

[magpiemochi.]

"Hey," Montague turned to grab his mate's paw before he could leave the house, "I know you have to be there early, but stay with me tonight?" There was an innocent twinkle in the cream coloured viscet's eye that Rumlow just couldn't refuse.

"Aight, but y'can't keep me up all night." He liked to act all big and bad, like he was the one in charge, but everyone, Rumlow included, knew that all Monty had to do was give him those precious puppy dog eyes and he was melted butter. "Not even a peep, m'kay?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just get back in here and cuddle me, you big oaf!" The quick tug to Rumlow's arm was followed by a loud squeak when he "accidentally" tripped and toppled right on top of the smaller viscet. Rumlow tried to act irritated to make it more believable that Montague had actually caused him to trip, but with his mate's little paws jabbing him in the sides with full intent to make him crack a smile, he couldn't hold in his laughter any longer.

"Aight ya' little pipsqueak!" He chuckled into Montague's sweet smelling and fluffy mane along his neck, nuzzling closer to dive into the irresistible aroma. "I surrender. I'll even wave a white flag if ya' want me to."

After the two had calmed down from their little tickle fight on the floor, they settled in on the couch with the TV on and showing something mindless so neither of them would be too invested in the show to fall asleep. Unfortunately for Montague, there was something else keeping him up. Tomorrow was an important day for his mate: a dangerous mission that would pave way for his future. That was great, and Monty was more than excited for him, but there was an ominous feeling that ate at the whole of both brain and heart; he had a feeling that something terrible was about to happen.

"Hey Rumlow?" Montague took the risk and shook his mate from the half awake-half asleep state he was already in.

"Hm?" Normally he would have snapped back a reply as he came to from being woken up, but he couldn't ignore the emotion in Montague's voice.

"You're gonna be okay tomorrow." It was supposed to be a question, but he didn't want to be bitter that Rumlow had technically "lied" to him if something did happen to him. "What I mean is ... I just want you to be careful, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

The large viscet rolled his eyes with a smile and snaked his arm around Monty's shoulders, "C'mere silly goose." A sweet kiss was planted against his cheek before he continued, "love you, aight? An' I'll be damned if I ain't comin' back to you in one piece, m'kay? Y'ain't got nothin' to worry about."

"I love you too, Rumlow." He couldn't muster to mental strength to reply to anything else that was said; somewhere deep in his heart, he knew it would all turn out to be one big unintentional lie. "I love you more than anything."

Not having slept a single wink that night, Montague was more than ready to see Rumlow off before he went on his mission. He had hoped that, throughout the night, the feeling would go away and he would be bright and chipper by morning, happy to see Rumlow bettering his future by going on his mission; but it only grew worse. Everything in his small body told him to grab hold of his mate and never let go, begging and pleading him not to leave. Telling him that he could find something even better and that Montague would help him do just that, but his voice caught in his throat. Many times, it came very close to him falling to his knees and begging him not to go, but he couldn't ruin this for him. He would have to put his feelings aside, ignore his intuition, and allow his mate to follow his dreams and finish this mission.

"I'll see ya in a couple days, yea?" Rumlow spoke against the top of Monty's head, peppering kisses along his hair before stepping back in order to tip his chin up so he could get a good look at his glossy eyes. He knew his little mate was ready to cry, but he didn't want to bring attention to it; that would only make the tears spill out endlessly.

"Yeah! I'll be waiting."

'... and watching the news.' He wanted to say, but that was thinking negatively and he couldn't allow his negative thoughts to transfer out loud for Rumlow's sake.

"Remember not to do anything stupid, alright? Do what you need to do and get out of there."

"Yes, Captain." Rumlow teased, rolling his eyes before giving him one final kiss and shouting a quick "love you!" as he made way for the jeep parked on the curb that was waiting for him.

Montague watched, with tears in his eyes, as the jeep disappeared out of sight. Only then did he finally allow the tears to spill over, hoping with everything in his entire being that doing so would relieve the terrible feeling now gnawing away at his sanity. Much to his own chagrin, the tears never stopped. The feeling never went away. Days came and passed; the feeling only grew worse like an aggravated wound deep set in his gut. Like some sort of irreversible ulcer that only got worse with each passing hour, minute, second.

He knew there wouldn't be any contact between the two of them while he was on his mission, but days had turned to a week; Montague was in bad shape. No one could get ahold of him and those he managed to drag himself out of bed to talk to noticed that he had lost an alarming amount of weight. He obviously hadn't been taking great care of himself.

"I'm fine, I swear," he would tell his foster brother, Jesse, but he wasn't stupid. Jesse knew better considering he had seen himself the very same way many different times, but for wildly different reasons. Because of his unkempt condition and state of life, Jesse made the decision to take a small leave away from his own family for a few days and live with Montague so that he wasn't by himself in the big, empty house.

Things seemed to be getting better without Rumlow around; it seemed as though Montague had regained a small amount of hope that he was fine. He started eating normally again and talking to his friends. Most of them convinced the ominous feelings had come from being so unused to having his mate absent for so long, and of course, the fact that it was a dangerous mission after all. Anyone would be just as upset over that fact alone. What everyone failed to point out was that Montague was also a massive drama Queen who always seemed to take things to the next level; they figured that was something unnecessary to add while he was under such stress.

The supportive words from his caring friends and family did wonders for him, and soon enough, Jesse was making his way out of the house to move back in with Sebastian and their small tots. Without much thought, Montague decided to settle in on the couch with a plate of salad and a nice steak filet, flicking the TV on to the news channel.

The scene he was faced with hit him like a freight train. The very building Rumlow had been assigned to was destroyed. Completely charred and flattened. The only thing remaining from it was the skeleton of its former glory. Montague wasted not a single second in throwing his plate to the ground and getting ahold of anyone else who might know exactly what had happened. He was panicking, desperate for answers, and that's when it hit him:

Despite his panicked state, his heart felt complete again in an odd way. The pulverizing hole in his gut seemed to be plastered shut. It was that feeling. That ominous feeling that haunted his very core; keeping him awake at night and keeping him from eating. The feeling was gone. He was free from the dark hand of fate, but faced with his unknowable future.

Montague fell to his knees, completely aware of exactly what that meant. It was over. Finished. It was then that he realized he would never see his mate again.

The news, once he heard it from those closest to Rumlow, not only friends but coworkers and comrades alike, had his mind reeling. The man he dedicated his life to —- built his life around[/] -— didn't make it out of the firefight. It was a delayed message; no one was ready to tell him especially after seeing how he handled just being without him before it all. But there was something different about this. Perhaps it was just his own delayed response to having his love being ripped from his life, but he didn't feel much of anything. He felt numb; he felt alone. No, he was no longer haunted by the terrible feeling that ripped him in two; instead he was haunted by loss. So stricken by grief that he couldn't even feel it coursing through him.

"Thank you for telling me." The monotone response he gave to those who delivered the message didn't even sound like his voice. It was as if someone —- or [i]something -— else had possessed his body. If he were to be honest, that's what it almost felt like.

It took a while, nearly the whole of that entire summer, but Montague finally started to feel something other than a full-body numbness. 'What was better?' He wondered to himself, 'feeling like this, or feeling nothing at all?' The shock melted into a certain denial; he didn't want to believe that it truly happened. He researched and watched every possible video of the entire thing that he could. He tried to find answers where there were none, and that only led to anger. He was bitter and spiteful. Without meaning to, he blamed Rumlow before blaming himself for allowing him to go at all.

Not that it was anyone's fault; but he couldn't tell the difference in his current state of mind. Because of this tragic accident, his relationship with the love of his life would never be the same. It would never live again; he would never be able to smile at him in the morning again, watching him stir awake and giggle when he pushed Monty away for staring. He would never be able to make him breakfast and kiss his forehead before work. Nothing would be the same in his life and he unintentionally blamed it all on Rumlow.

Once his bitterness went away, Montague could barely get out of bed. At least when he was bitter and angry, he was moved by the spite alone. Now, he just felt heavy. Heavy like a bag of bricks, but this time, no one really checked on him. They would call, and he would lie, but they didn't come knocking at his door like they had done last time. He couldn't blame them; last time, it was hard to hide how he truly felt. This time, he made himself out to be just fine and living his life in an attempt to get over the tragedy. They all congratulated him and told him how proud they were of him, when in reality, he had started to waste away once more.

Perhaps it was their words of encouragement, or maybe it was his own self preservation and the very last bit of his will to live on and try to find happiness again, but he was finally able to think with a clear head. After not having his mate around for so long and living a life he never thought he would have to live, Montague took the steps needed in order to better himself through the tragedy. He began to accept the fact that his relationship was over and it would never be the same, and began to accept the fact that he had lost not only his mate, but his best friend as well. He knew many others who had gone through the same thing and wondered if they too dealt with all of these changing emotions. If they did, they never talked about it. At one point, in his bitterness, he felt as though he was the only one in the world who had lost someone. He felt as though he was hurting more than anyone ever had; in his clear state of mind, he realized that just wasn't true.

And as terrible as it was to say, that made him feel a little better. He didn't want anyone else to hurt, but he also didn't want to be alone in his own hurting.

One of the things that kept him going was the fact that no one had found a body. Perhaps he survived the destruction and was hiding out somewhere, just waiting until it was safe to return to his mate and they could continue the life they both promised one another. It was farfetched, but it brought him several steps closer to acceptance. If that was the case, their relationship would have to stay hidden, he assumed. As much as he loved a public relationship where they wouldn't need to hide their love, Montague would do anything for Rumlow, even if it meant changing their relationship in every single way.

His complete and unending hope for a new future, with or without his former mate, made living much easier. Things had changed permanently, whether or not Rumlow returned to the realm of the living, things would never be the same for Montague, or anyone around him, but he was ready. Surprisingly, he was ready to turn his life around and use all of that grief, anger, bitterness, and spite as a lesson for his future. Next time around, he would teach himself how to deal with his own dependency issues and learn to depend only on himself. No one knows what the future holds.

Although, he certainly did have one regret. He only wished he could go back, even not knowing what would happen, and tell Rumlow to just stay home. Begging him just as he wanted to do in the first place, and crying at him to stay home with him and they would find something else for him to do. He wished he would have told him the very feelings he had been having about the entire operation; at least then he could say that he had tried everything to stop it all from happening in the first place. Maybe nothing would have had to change at all. Their relationship would still be thriving, happy, and moving forward.

Thinking like that wouldn't solve anything. Only living and acceptance would.

2500/2500

Rumlow and Jesse belong to milo.
Montague belongs to me