#it will be waiting for you

[sylus-hds-7213]

Wrapped in tissue paper that smells vaguely like her perfume—orange blossom and something warm underneath—is a framed photograph. But not just any photo. It's an aggressively candid shot of Sylus looking tired, coffee in hand, caught mid-eye-roll. In the corner, she’s written (in smudged pen and barely legible, lowercase scrawl): “the moment you realized i was right, documented forever. happy birthday.”

Attached to the back with washi tape is a tiny envelope—wax-sealed, with a little “L” pressed into it. The letter inside reads:

Sylus,

I hate that I won’t be there on your birthday. Truly, deeply, in a way that makes me want to rearrange the universe or at least yell at a flight attendant until the laws of time bend in my favor. But, alas. Here we are.

So instead, I’m giving you this: a very serious, incredibly heartfelt birthday gift. Early. You're welcome.

Now, the part that actually matters:

I’m sorry I won’t be home. I know it’s not the same, and I know you’ll pretend it doesn’t bother you because you’re thoughtful like that. But I wanted you to have something here. Something that reminds you that you are loved—loudly, stupidly, unapologetically. I love you more than I know how to explain most days, and certainly more than can be contained in one letter. Or a book. Or a library.

You are the safest place I’ve ever known. You make the noise in my head quieter. You see me in ways I never expected anyone to, and somehow you still stay. That matters more to me than I can say.

So eat the cake I left in the freezer (yes, it’s the good cake). Don’t let anyone else near it—especially Luke. I will find out.

I plan to make up for missing your birthday in every way I can think of. Prepare accordingly.

All my love, Lana

@stubbornlysoft

Sylus hadn’t meant to sit with the letter as long as he did. The soft crack of the wax seal breaking had felt far too ceremonial for something like this —but when it came to Lana, even the smallest things carried gravity.

The scent of her perfume curled in the air—warm, grounding. Like her. Like home. He stared at the photo for longer than he’d admit, thumb brushing over the glass where his own eye-roll had been immortalized. The memory flashed like a flare—her laugh just out of frame, the teasing glint in her eyes when she caught him at just the right moment. And the scribbled note in the corner? It tugged a smirk out of him, crooked and helpless.

But it was the letter that stopped everything else.

He didn’t move for a while.

The quiet of his parlour thickened around him as he read and reread every word. Her voice lived in the spaces between the sentences. Her warmth in the curves of every letter. That she’d thought of this—that she’d known exactly what to say—felt like both a punch and a balm to the chest.

He set the frame gently on the table, then held the letter to his lips for a brief second before folding it carefully, reverently. That was the thing about Lana—she didn’t just write with ink; she wrote with intention. Every sentence stitched into his ribs now. He’d carry it with him, maybe longer than she'd ever guess.

And gods, he missed her.

The pull in his chest that turned into something sharp and overwhelming. Her words weren’t dramatic or flowery—but they were hers. Honest and full of that sideways affection only Lana could deliver.

He swallowed hard at “You are the safest place I’ve ever known.”

The lump in his throat was sudden, heavy. She had no idea what it meant to him—being that for her. That she felt seen, understood, held, even when he couldn’t always find the right words. That she chose him in quiet ways like this. Through cake in the freezer and snapshots of stolen moments and smudged ink that said, I love you more than I know how to explain.

He pulled out his phone, his fingers lingering over the keyboard for a beat too long. Then he typed

💬 You wreck me in the best ways.

💬 That picture’s awful, and I love it. Because you were there.

💬 I’ve read your letter three times already. I’ll probably read it a hundred more.

💬 You may not be here but, you’ve left pieces of yourself everywhere I look.

💬 But I’ll still be counting the seconds until you’re home.

💬 You’re everything soft in a world that’s anything but. And I’ll take all of it. All of you. For as many birthdays as we get. Just us.

[scribefindegil]

Everyone is so weird about people who cry easily. Fellas, is it evil and manipulative to *checks notes* have an involuntary stress response?

[zelkams-art]

in all timelines in all possibilities only you can show me this

[wishfulsketching]

Girl dad Silco is a source of endless entertainment for me

Extra doodles:

Someone save Sevika, she is in hell

[monstermonger]

~3 months traveling in my wife’s home-country -> 100 journal pages

[noodles-and-tea]

Haha… yeah… that’d be crazy…

[brokenclockgears]

while the cameras are turned away

[mearchy]

my favorite genre of fictional character is like "i am terrifying to almost everyone, i'm very good at killing, i can endure anything, i've become exceptionally good at playing into my reputation, and if you try to give me positive social interaction i will react with confusion and cower in a corner like an abused animal. and i may try to shoot you. but there is also a chance i may imprint on you like a feral dog receiving its first loving touch! good luck."

[courtjestersanonymous]

If a felon is president, every felon needs to be able to vote immediately from this moment forward

[changeling-droneco]

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

[clonerightsagenda]

I think this is just a trend everywhere but I've been very frustrated this week by how much admin work is being outsourced to me as the patient/customer.

My orthodontist tells me I can make an appointment with the surgeon. I call the surgeon. They tell me I need a new referral. I call the orthodontist. They do a referral. I call the surgeon. Referral didn't come through. They tell me about their special unique system we have to use. I call the ortho again and walk them through the referral. I call the surgeon. They say the referral was missing some details so they have to do it again. I call the ortho.

The insurance company calls me about repair shops. I give them the name of the repair shop which I already gave them yesterday. They say they're not in their system but I can use them, but I have to call the repair shop to ask them to contact the insurance company. I call the repair shop and they say the insurance company is supposed to email them.

I feel like at a certain point these constant fetch quests become unreasonable?? Is it too much to expect these groups to communicate with each other instead of making me run back and forth between them???

[rabid-transcendentalist]

let's go for a swim with mama

[luxury-nightmare]

Odysseus: Penelope I am not the same person you fell in love with, I have done terrible things to get home. I understand if you can’t accept the monstrous things I have done-

Penelope: cool, could you please move this wedding bed

Odysseus: what, no!

Penelope: that’s my husband

Odysseus: Penelope I have killed so many

Penelope: I don’t give a shit

Odysseus: I sacrificed my crew-

Penelope: And I would’ve done the same

Odysseus: I am covered in the blood of the suitors

Penelope: and you look fantastic

Odysseus: I TORTURED A GOD ON HIS OWN WEAPON

Penelope: and that was incredibly sexy of you

[loversbones]

^ for the unaware

[lazylittledragon]

someone get this poor man a chair for the love of god