#you all have no idea for how long I’ve been wanting to redraw the kiss but with a fictional pairing

[namelessmap]

The kiss, but it’s Crowley and Aziraphale

#you all have no idea for how long I’ve been wanting to redraw the kiss but with a fictional pairing #this took almost 19 hours #everybody pls appreciate it #good omens #good omens crowley #good omens art #good omens fanart #good omens show #good omens aziraphale #aziracrow #aziraphale #Crowley #crowley fanart #crowley art #azirafell #aziraphale art #aziraphale fanart #inspired by klimt #ineffable husbands #or is it had been who knows i dont #<referring to first tag

[toaster-hair]

There’s a Human in the Neighborhood! (chapter 5)

(important authors note: Hi nyall :3! Sorry i havent written in so long, ive been more hyperfixated on other things like across the spiderverse and lolita fashion, and i’ve also been working on other projects. I have a skullgirls au tumblr blog, my original comic raw!fruit, im redrawing the welcome homes cast’s portraits with my own headcanons added, as well as general oc content. But with welcome homes new update, it motivated me to write again. I feel as though when welcome home is finally finished up, ill rewrite this entire fic to make much more sense. Anyways, heres a content warning. As said before, this fic focuses on how gross human anatomy can confuse wholesome puppets. Its a bit hard to write about gross anatomy stuff without veering into nsfw territory, so suggestions would be appreciated. But this chapter in particular is about periods! The fic is written about a gender neutral AFAB reader, so if youre amab or if periods are just off the table for you, feel free to skip!)

A painful stab at your stomach woke you up from your slumber. “Ough..” your sudden movement spooked your cat. You held your torso in pain, feeling a sharpness in your pants. It was still dark, with the only light being the sun coming through your blinds. You stood up, making your way to the bathroom and….

Blood. Lots and lots of blood stained your undergarments. That explained the sudden pain you were feeling, it was just that time of the month! You went back to your bedroom to make sure you didn’t bleed the bed, grabbed some clean clothes, and turned the shower on. You also grabbed some pads out of the cabinet under the sink. You brought them from your old house but you should probably buy some more later.

You stepped into your shower and let the warm water soak your body head to toe, flourishing yourself with all kinds of soap. Once you were finally cleaned up, you stepped out and dried yourself. You put on your clean clothes, grabbed some pain killers, and went back to bed.

-

You woke up once again a few hours later. You got up, did your morning routine, had breakfast, fed your cat, and picked up the phone. You decided you would call in sick because of the pain and nausea. God, why does the first day have to be the most painful? You dialed the number for FishEgg Boba and waited for an answer.

“Helloo? This is FishEgg Bobaaa. How may I help youuu?” You heard Casper answer the phone.

“Hey Casper, It’s Y/N. Uhh.. I know it’s only my second day but I’m calling in sick. I’ve got… cramps real bad. I don’t wanna move that much. Is that okay?” 

“Oooh. Sure that’s fiiine. Just make sure to come in tomorroww. See you thenn. Hope you feel better sooon.” And with that, he ended the call. You felt kind of bad. It was only your second day, and you were taking a break already. You were probably missing out on some training too! But at the same time, everyone made it seem like yesterday you were working too hard when you weren’t even on your period! You can’t imagine what it’ll be like to work like that while on your period. 

You then remembered your plan to get more pads. You were good for now, but it was always a good idea to stock up. You put on some outdoor clothes consisting of some basic gym sweats and a baggy jacket. You gave your kitty a goodbye kiss on the forehead and headed out the door. Gee, this was the second time in a row that you went to Howdy’s. 

Wait… Oh yeah they’re puppets. I forgot. I mean you forgot that they were puppets. Of course they won’t have pads. You went back inside and grabbed some money, looks like you were heading out of town after all. As you headed back out again, you spotted Wally walking out of his house as well. You walked over to him, sense you promised you would chat in the morning last night.

“Hey Wally! You wanted to talk more this morning, right?” you stared down at him. 

“Oh! Yes! I wanted to know about how it went. Ah, but shouldn’t you be at work right now?” he asked.

“Oh, uh.. Yeah, the thing is that I’m uh, not feeling very well. So I’m taking the day off. I’m going back tomorrow though.”

“Ah, I see. You aren’t sick again, are you? Do you want me to go get Poppy?” He held at your knees like a dog jumping on its owner. 

“No, no. Not sick, it's just.. I may gross you out at the explanation?” You gestured with your hands “Is that okay?” You asked. He stared at you with a blank expression but nodded his head.

“Okay so basically uh.. When a human with a womb starts puberty.. Uh, and a womb is used for baby making purposes by the by, their womb starts to shed for a couple of days straight each month. That’s because the womb wants to make a baby but doesn’t have the ingredients to make one, causing the womb to pump out blood. This can cause pain, nausea, all that nasty stuff. That’s just a basic explanation, anyways.” He kind of just. Stared at you with half lidded eyes the entire time. “Uh, I don’t need to explain what blood is right?”

“Oh no, we have that too.”

…

What. 

“W-wait, if you’re bleeding.. Then.. did you just start puberty??” There was this look of anxiety on his face, which felt so odd and out of character.

“No, no, you still bleed even after puberty. Well, that is until you hit your 60’s or something. It’s not gonna go away for a while.. Haha, if I was still that young, I wouldn’t even be here!” You laughed at him a bit. He let out a sigh of relief. 

“Sorry.. I don’t know much about how human bodies work…” He looked away out of embarrassment.

“Oh, I can show you.” You reassured him. “Ah- What??” He stared at you slightly horrified, slightly considering your offer.

“Yeah dude, there’s a ton of books about human anatomy. Going from the bone to the skin. I can order you one online! If you want, of course.” You pulled out your phone and showed him various different anatomy books.

“Oh… No thanks, I'm fine.” He turned down your offer in a slightly disappointed tone.

“That’s fine. I need to go out of town for a bit to go get something, see you later!” You waved goodbye as you started to walk to the train station. You then suddenly felt a sharp pain in your stomach, but you kept on walking.

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was waving goodbye right back at you.

(A/N: i wrote this in one night i hope you enjoy!! Ill try to include sally and julie in the next chapter :3333)

#welcome home #welcome home fanfic #wally darling #wally darling x reader #y/n #gross #periods #menstration #x reader #toaster-hair #should this fic be abbreviated to THN or TAHITN

[jrmangasummaries]

JR Act 53:  Initial Thoughts

My JR journey started in January and then restarted in March when I found my role in the community as manga acts summarizer. By the time May rolled around I caught up where I left off with Act 47 and I have been ever so slowly making my way to Act 53. I know that I still have two Sentiment acts, all of SIH, a number of SIH novels and the not-yet-released Valentine’s Day and White Day Junjou Mixes to consume but it’s a strange feeling to no longer have Romantica content waiting for me. Well, it’s one step closer to speaking freely with my JRSIH mutuals! As always, my thoughts are after the cut. 

The Todo-Misaki friendship is so great. Misaki, when it comes to Todo, there could never be enough meat. And Todo, please eat your veggies.

Was anyone else taken aback when they learned that Takahiro didn’t talk to Manami about what happened? I know this is basically the same thing as when Manami kept the secret from Takahiro but now something feels really off.

Hi Kirishima! I’ve read a couple of Yokozawa no Baai novels and that has cemented him and Yokozawa as my favourite SIH ship. I wonder why Misaki is so motivated to get a part time job if it’s only going to be for a few months. Enjoy your freedom while you have it!!!

My jaw DROPPED when I saw Takahiro meeting up with Usagi. No wonder he was so quiet. And I gasped when Usagi said that he had feelings for someone else when he met Misaki. Man, maybe it’s a good thing that I’m getting caught up because I don’t know how long my heart can take this roller coaster of emotions. 

WOAH. A genuine Nakamura redraw of the iconic Act 1 pre-first kiss scene? What a gift! 

When Takahiro asked if the person Usagi liked was someone he knew and Usagi said, “...not exactly”, I was ready to chalk it up as a bold face lie until I realized that it wasn’t necessarily the case. I wonder if Usagi meant that he was in love with the idea of a Takahiro who would love him back considering that the real Takahiro never would. 

The quick change of perspective where Usagi was basically looking in OUR eyes and telling us how he only grew to love Misaki more was genius. 

Usagi… you don’t have to tell Takahiro of all people that Misaki hates causing other people trouble…

So there’s the punch that I spoiled myself with. Still, even though I knew it was coming (and it couldn’t be at the café!) it was still shocking to see. It turned out to be quite anti-climactic so I guess the spoiler wasn’t too bad after all. Misaki’s reaction was priceless, though. 

Half of me thinks that Usagi is making up the “this must be what it feels like when a father gives away his daughter in marriage” line but Takahiro saying that he could never forgive Usagi if he hurt Misaki is 100% on point. 

OH MY GOSH! MISAKI FINALLY KISSES USAGI!!!! It’s about time!!!!!! 

I’m happy that Takahiro is ready to talk to Misaki about what’s going on. Looking forward to see where the Romantica storyline will go from here!

Marvellous work, @teddyscans! The font is very cute and I have a soft spot for sound effects because I really feel that they add another dimension to the reading experience when they are translated. I can’t blame PenicillinShock for usually leaving them alone since it’s a LOT to take on, espcially since they had two other mangas to take care of.

If you’re still with me, should I continue my “First time thoughts from a first time reader” series for SIH? Clearly I will go volume-by-volume and not act-by-act (so only 16 posts) but it’s such a divided fandom. I don’t want to spam people’s timelines for nothing if there are too many strong, negative opinions.

#Junjou Romatica #Act 53 #First time thoughts from a first time reader

[the--sad--hatter]

Bad Habits (Bucky x Reader)

WARNINGS: Smut, Angst, Mental Health, Unhealthy Relationships

SUMMARY: The only thing that makes you feel better is being in Buckys bed, even if it makes you feel worse at the same time. Because you’re addicted to the hurt as much as you’re addicted to him.

It hurts and it stings and it burns and it breaks your heart and yet you keep doing it, not in spite of the agony it causes you but because of it. When the worlds a little too loud and being alive is a little to exhausting, when your skin starts feeling too tight and your that tight ball of pain in your chest makes it’s presence known, you run to him.

 When the world is too much for him and he remembers that his own mind is his own worst enemy, when the nightmares of what his hands have done without his minds compliance haunt him, he runs to you.

Eventually, something breaks and you always end up with your bare skin pressed against his, his teeth embedded in your neck, his hands bruising your hips, his cock buried deep inside you and his eyes looking straight through you.

 Sometimes it’s a pattern. He knows to expect you when you come back from your therapist, already stripped down to his boxers and waiting on the bed for your return, knowing you’re going to climb onto his lap and ride him until you can’t feel your legs anymore.

 When he comes back from a mission with someone else’s blood on him you know to step into the shower after him and bend to his will, letting him use you to remind himself that he is in control.

 He’ll wake up from a nightmare and won’t bother stopping to wipe the cold sweat from his skin before he makes the journey to your room, sliding beneath your sheets and hands pushing your panties aside before you’ve even fully woken from your slumber.

 Because the worlds a cruel place and life is painful, there’s not a day where you don’t bear the marks of your unhealthy union with Bucky on your skin. Bruises on your thighs from his fingertips digging in when he holds your legs splayed apart and fucks the anger into you, a perfect imprint of his teeth on the back of your neck from where he bends you over and claims you in the basest most primal way. Your marks on him always fade too quickly but you’re provided with plenty of opportunities to redraw the lines down his back, your nails slicing through his skin as he brings you to the precipice of pleasure and shoves you over, drowning you in bliss and self-loathing.

 It used to be so much kinder between you, before the clothes came off. He would smile at you like he smiled at everyone else, you would smile at him more than you smiled at anyone else.

 THEN

 You could see his figure in the doorway, shoulders hunched like he was inadvertently trying to make himself smaller.

 “Can’t sleep?” You asked without really looking away from the tv screen.

 “No.” He rasped.

 The broken sound of his voice actually made you look up and you inhaled sharply at the sight of him. Sweat rolled in droplets down his bare chest as it rose and fell rapidly while he fought to regulate his breathing, trying to fight back some semblance of calm. Metal fingers pushed damp strands of hair out of his face, his bloodshot eyes boring into you and you knew he was having similar thoughts about you. Your own skin was clammy, your own eyes so tired and dark they looked almost bruised. In the shadowy room, in the middle of the night you were both exposed for what you were. Two very broken people. He moved slowly, like he was in pain, as he dragged his body over to the couch and slumped down beside you.

 “What are we watching?” He asked.

 You turned your head away from him and back to the tv.

 “No idea.” You said.

 He didn’t reply and you both lifelessly watched the screen, neither knowing nor caring what was on it. At some point he leant to the side and without saying a word, laid his head on your chest, stretching his legs out across the cushions. Some of the tension eased from his shoulders and he took a shuddering breath and that was that. He stayed that way for hours, until the sunlight started to intrude on the almost peace you were sharing.

 “I’m going to go to bed.” He announced, standing up lithely.

 You just nodded, eyes still focused on the screen. He looked down at you for a moment, expressionless.

 “Come with me.” He said.

 It was worded like a question but sounded more like an order.

 “Why Bucky? Why would I do that?”

 “Don’t you want to feel something? Fucking anything? I do, and... and I wanna feel it with you.” He asked with a bitter, humourless laugh.

 When you didn’t answer, didn’t even look at him he walked away.

 You did want to feel something, something other than the cold numbness that came after the dark soul crushing pain. Your mind could be cruel, pushing anger and depression onto you for so long but eventually something inside you would snap and you’d stop feeling altogether. You didn’t want to be numb anymore.

 With every step towards his room there was a voice in the farthest regions of your mind screaming at you to stop, turn around before it was too late but you ignored it. The awful truth was that when you could feel, when you weren’t cold inside, you were in love with Bucky. Even now when you were lost, he meant more to you than anything and you would follow him into hell itself if he asked you.

 So you knocked on his door and into your own personal hell you went.

 NOW

 You had tasted every inch of Bucky’s skin except his lips. His hands had picked you up and pinned you down, his fingers had been wrapped in your hair or pushed deep inside your pussy but he had never held your hand. Your arms had been wrapped around him as he thrust his cock inside you but you’d never held him. Your legs had been spread for him, wrapped around his waist, slung across his shoulders, tangled with his under the sheets but he had never even walked by your side. Unless you were fighting bad guys or fucking each other, you acted like the other didn’t exist.

 He was using you, taking everything you had and draining you dry but you were doing the same to him. Deep down, you both knew it wasn’t healthy, that was why you couldn’t look each other in the eye anymore. He was your crutch, your addiction and you were his outlet, his metaphorical punching bag.

 For the thousandth time, you returned from an appointment to find him waiting for you.

 He was sat back on your pillows like he belonged there, his hair fanned out, framing him. This might be hell for you but he sure as hell looked every inch the Angel. As soon as you stepped through the door he held his arms out, waiting for you to crawl into them like you always did. It might be wrong, this affair, but he knew you, he knew what you needed and he relished in providing it. It was more than most people could say about their partners.

 Your therapist suggested that loving Bucky was safe for you, because you thought he didn’t love you back and you were afraid of having a normal, healthy relationship. She was right in a way. Love was dangerous in your eyes. Every day, all across the world, people were destroyed by it. Wars had been waged, lives ruined, people killed all because of love and how it can break us when it goes wrong. At least with Bucky, you knew the kind of pain you were setting yourself up for. And maybe the kind of pain you felt with him was addictive. Being hurt by Bucky was better than being loved by someone else. You didn’t love him because it was ‘safe’, you loved him because you didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had your heart from the second you’d met him and his hold on it was too strong to fight, even if you wanted to.

 You joined him on the bad, straddling his thighs and feeling the familiar burn of lust in your veins.

 “If I asked you, would you kiss me?” You said softly, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

 He stilled underneath you and inhaled sharply. You chanced a look at him, your heart contracting painfully at the tick in his clenched jaw and the hard look in his eyes. His hand cradled the back of your head, gently pulling you to him. His lips brushed lightly against yours and you waited for the other shoe to drop, to be pushed away, for him to laugh or be angry but that wasn’t what happened. His lips parted and he caught your bottom lip between his, kissing you tenderly.

 “I’d give you anything you asked for.” He murmured against your mouth.

 You could feel the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids and you knew you should walk away, should run. You should be brave and strong for both your sakes and end this. But you couldn’t just kick the habit. You needed him. So what the hell were you going to do?

 “Maybe we should just share a room, instead of having to come looking for each other all the time.” He whispered.

 Maybe he was just as addicted as you were. Maybe the fact that you could find solace in each other actually meant something.

 “I love you.”

 He didn’t say anything for the longest time, just looked at you with an undecipherable expression. You almost flinched when he slowly cupped your cheek in his hand.

 “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say that doll. I love you too.”

 Maybe two broken halves actually stood a chance of making a whole.

A/N - Believe it or not, this was 100x angstier before i edited it for public consumption. It’s just an angsty kinda day folks, at least I gave it a happy ending? 

PERMA TAG LIST

@likes-to-smell-books @thelostallycat @dilaila95 @dropthepizza346 @destiel-artemis @hiddles-rose @myfandomlife-blog @thosesexytexasboys @liveonce-sodoitright @spnrvt @tarastudiesalot  @dahkness @sexyvixen7 @jaynnanadrews  @littledeadrottinghood  @pinkisokay @angieptt @anamcg317 @belladonnarey @queen-kayy92 @breezy1415 @penumbrawolfy @fairislesheets @lianadelphius @coolmassivenerd @youhavebeenspared @candyxcyanide @musingpredilection  @isaxhorror @destiel-artemis @my-drowning-in-time @isabelcrichards @teh-nerdette @dlcita @deathofmissjackson @life-wanderer @cleo0107 @spicymagz @drdorkus @inquisitor-selvala @le-mow @zeannastardust @nighmxre @blue-cat-1989 @writingforbucky @abo4280ooof @mad4oak @jsmith509 @aven-gers33 @helloimanavenger @brownlee-22 @amoonagedaydreamer @barnesb1tch @scarletraine @cowardlycandy  @secondsineternity @mywinterwolf   @luminous-lillies  @stressedandbandobessed7771 @jamesbucktitybarnes @thirstofgames @boxofteenageideas @dark-angel-be-thirsty-af

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader

[cuttoothed]

I heard you were taking soft, two word ficlet prompts. I would like to request "intricate tattoos" for lonely eyes, if it isn't too much trouble.

Ah, a lovely choice! Soft Lonely Eyes is always fun to write.

CW for brief mention of blood in the aftermath of getting a tattoo. Also lack of proper tattoo care/hygiene, because these monsters don't care about infections.

*

The tattoo is an apology. Elias doesn’t quite recall what Peter’s apologizing for this time - there are always so many things - and since he hasn’t been speaking to Peter for six months because of...whatever it was that Peter did, he’s entirely forgotten. However, the fact remains that Peter came to apologize, and his suggestion for making amends, was for Elias to design him a tattoo.

Elias finds the idea rather delightful, and spends some time considering his options. He dismisses the idea of a joke tattoo out of hand. Peter is almost impossible to embarrass, and would wear anything intended to humiliate or humble him as a badge of honor. Besides, Elias is the one who has to look at him. Instead he tries to look at this as an opportunity. Peter’s tattoos are beautifully inked, but rather gauche, all compasses and bare-breasted mermaids and ships at full sail. Elias has always had a bit of artistic flair, and this is his chance to impart some taste to Peter’s gallery.

He spends weeks drawing and redrawing the design. The base image is an octopus, because he wants to match the general oceanic theme, its limbs curled about with wisps of fog and spattered with ocean spray. The arms are a labyrinthine coil, and from between them peek the merest suggestion of terrified human faces, pleading, outstretched hands. Instead of suckers, each limb is covered in rows of wide, staring eyes.

Elias is rather pleased with it. He shows the final result to Peter, who gives a low whistle.

“You have the soul of an artist, love,” he comments. “Or possibly a serial killer.”

“This was your suggestion,” Elias reminds him.

“Oh don’t worry, I well remember, and I’ll wear your nightmarish design with pride.”

The tattoo parlor is a high end place that seems familiar with Peter, enough to shut the whole place down for his visit. They don’t question Elias sitting there throughout the eight hour session, enthralled as he watches the scene. Peter looks delicious, straddling the chair shirtless with his shoulders flared broad, the needle buzzing across the pale skin of his back. There’s something at once brutish and vulnerable about the pose, which Elias finds terribly appealing.

Equally appealing are the little sounds of pain Peter starts making after the fourth hour, the way his breath hitches and his forehead furrows minutely. He never moves, though, and his eyes never leave Elias’. The unnerved tattoo artist takes occasional breaks for water and cigarettes and to use the bathroom, but Peter remains in place, holding Elias’ gaze. At one point while the artist is out of the room, Elias speaks to him for the first and only time in those eight hours.

“You’re holding up quite well,” he remarks. Peter chuckles.

“Wait until tonight,” he says, “I’ll show you how well I’ve held up.”

Peter is true to his word, and later Elias traces his tongue over the bloody lines of the tattoo while Peter arches hungrily into him, rumbling low in his chest. Elias is intoxicated, overcome by the sight: his Peter marked with his design.

“You know this means you’re utterly mine?” he murmurs, heady with the knowledge of it.

“As long as my skin lasts, at least,” Peter laughs, and turns over to kiss him.

Well then, Elias will just have to make sure this skin lasts a good long time.

#the magnus archives #tma #my fic #ficbits #peterelias #long post #writing prompts

[ikesencrypticcupid]

Like a Moth to a Flame

Characters: Mitsuhide, Mitsunari, female-identifying self-insert MC Rating: Everyone Word count: 2.3k Warnings: None Recipient: @widzzicicles / @destinedatmidnight Author: @ohtomatotome A/N: I was lucky enough to be assigned to destinedatmidnight for Cryptic Cupid last year, as well. I wrote them a story about the budding partnership between Mitsuhide and Mitsunari. This is a continuation of that same theme. ——– Kazunaga inhaled from his pipe and blew a stream into the air above (Y/N)’s head, adding to the already dense cloud of smoke in the reception hall. She coughed for the umpteenth time and fought the temptation to roll her eyes at the daimyo sitting in front of them. With a look of worry, Mitsunari laid a hand on her back, leaned over, and whispered, “Are you unwell, Lady (Y/N)?” With a definite nod of her head, she looked at Mitsunari and then at Mitsuhide, who was leisurely sipping sake a few feet away. She was sure he had glanced at her each time the daimyo exhaled a plume of smoke in her direction, but the golden eyes showed no sign of concern at the moment. Mitsunari turned to the household attendant. “Would you be so kind as to show us to your courtyard where Lady (Y/N) can refresh herself with a bit of cool air?” He helped (Y/N) to her feet and they gave a small polite bow to Kazunaga before following a servant out. She led them through the halls and out to the inner garden. As he turned to leave, Mitsunari gave a little self-deprecating chuckle and pointed around him at the surrounding doorways, saying, “Ah, I think I got turned around…which way do we follow to get back to the reception hall? I think it was that door, correct?” The servant quickly recovered her perplexion at his stupidity and shook her head politely. “No, those are my lord’s offices on that side. You came in from the doors right behind you.” She gestured to the double shoji doors, then bowed and left them alone. (Y/N) sighed and ventured into the garden towards a large boulder to sit on. “What a rude man. Who blows smoke into anyone’s face, let alone a dinner guest? Ugh. I’ve got a massive headache. Thanks for taking me out of there, Mitsunari.” She gave him a grateful smile. Mitsunari returned the soft smile and stepped behind her. “I believe I can help relieve the discomfort with some light temple massage, Lady (Y/N).” He reached up and placed the pads of his fingers against the sides of her head, applying just the right amount of pressure. She closed her eyes and visibly relaxed to a great degree, trusting herself completely to his care. A few seconds passed; Mitsunari looked all around them before whispering instructions in her ear. “If this does not go as planned and we are caught here, you will need to get to a safe place as soon as possible. One of Lord Mitsuhide’s armed servants is stationed outside the manor gates in case that happens. He will escort you to an inn where his vassals are waiting to meet up with us tonight. Do you have any questions before Lord Mitsuhide finds us?” With a bigger pout than she realized, she sulked, “Hrmph. What makes you so sure he’d care enough to come after us?” ——– Two supply trains hijacked. Five dead soldiers. A large amount of ammunition missing. An important shipment of flintlock rifles stolen. And one very disgruntled Oda lord. Mitsuhide had been trying to uncover the mystery of who was behind the thefts. The trail had led to the household of Kazunaga, a daimyo who had recently joined the Oda forces. When Mitsuhide delivered his findings at the last war council, Nobunaga ordered him to verify it but take no action yet: “Punishment will come directly from me. First I want you to confirm he is the culprit.” Masamune patted his katana and smiled hungrily, “Just point the way, and we’ll handle him for you, Nobunaga. No need to get your hands dirty with this small fry.” Hideyoshi was ready to jump to his feet, “That man has been stealing from my lord! Probably to use those very weapons against him. We need to get there now and make him pay for his thievery.” Mitsuhide cast a cool glance at the simmering Hideyoshi, “And this is why I need someone who doesn’t rush into battle without a plan.” Mitsuhide surprised everyone by telling Mitsunari and (Y/N) to get ready and dress like successful merchants. “I can hardly show up by myself. What a paltry attempt at deception that would be. (Y/N) will be my wife; that will serve as a nice cover. Mitsunari is needed for his skills.” Ieyasu scoffed, “Which skill is that? Spilling tea? Or getting lost?” Truth be told, Mitsuhide appreciated Mitsunari’s gifts more than he liked to admit. This excursion would be the fourth time he’d called upon the strategist to leave his shabby office and travel with him for an investigation. The man was reliable, calm, brilliant, and he had his uses. But he was frustratingly naive. …Or was he? Mitsuhide had spent more time with Mitsunari in the last four months than in the two years combined, and he was beginning to notice that Azuchi’s angel wasn’t nearly as dopey as many believed. Posing as merchants of rare foreign imported goods, they had managed to obtain an invitation to dinner. Kazunaga had shown them adequate hospitality while they had been eating, but as they moved to the reception hall for smoking, sake, and sales talk, he slowly devolved into a rude host. Mitsuhide casually took a sip as the door slid shut behind (Y/N) and Mitsunari. The daimyo sneered at him, “You look quite comfortable for a husband whose wife just left to have a moonlit stroll with another man. Are you a cuckold, or do you trust him that implicitly?” With fox-like cunning and speed, he latched onto that idea and turned it to his advantage. He suddenly gave a scorned grunt, “Then let’s get business squared away quickly so I can go reclaim what’s mine.” They began to negotiate prices while Mitsuhide made his agitation shown as the minutes ticked by. ——– Mitsunari stopped rubbing (Y/N)’s temples before answering her question. “Because this has been long enough for your husband to be worried that his wife is alone with another man. Isn’t that right, my lord?” Mitsuhide stepped out from the shadows. “Too true. Woman, you know better than to wag your tail at someone else.” He deliberately stepped between them and put a possessive arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders. Under his breath he asked the other man one word, “Where?” Mitsunari nervously sidestepped the couple and backed up onto the walkway that led to the Kazunaga’s private offices. “Ah, don’t you think you ought to treat your wife a little nicer than calling her ‘woman’?” He continued backing up, feeling for the door latch behind him. Mitsuhide growled in indignation. “WOMAN, you go back to the party. You don’t want to see this.” He pressed a quick kiss to her temple before storming towards Mitsunari, just as the other man slipped into the room. Mitsuhide followed after him and slid the door shut. (Y/N) was momentarily stunned by the feeling Mitsuhide’s lips left on her skin. Even though she knew this was just play-acting, she couldn’t help that her heart was beating wildly. Keeping in mind their warning that there could be servants or spies watching from anywhere, she paced the garden with a fretful demeanor before making her way back to the hallways, giving the warlords plenty of time to finish their search. ——– “I hope that was sufficient acting, Lord Mitsuhide. I’ve never had to use such a skill before. I learn so many new things when I’m working with you.” A faint smile lifted the corners of Mitsunari’s lips as he searched drawers and crates for evidence of the stolen weapons and supplies. “Enough talking. Concentrate.” It was as much an order for Mitsunari as it was for himself. Mitsuhide was trying to forget how his arm had felt around (Y/N), and how her hair smelled. Did he subconsciously pick her temple to kiss because he wanted to erase the touch of Mitsunari’s hands on her skin? Had he really been jealous? He snorted lightly through his nose. A rustling sound of thick parchment snapped him out of this uncharacteristic line of questions. Mitsunari held the map up the light and put on his glasses. “There’s no time for us to make a copy. I’ll memorize it now and redraw it later.” Mitsuhide looked over the man’s shoulder and saw it was barely a map, if you could even call it that. Whomever created it made the lines and markings as cryptic as possible. But if you knew what you were looking for, you could tell these were locations of stockpiles. Mitsuhide left him to focus while he dug through other piles as neatly and quietly as possible. When Mitsunari put the map down, five more documents were thrust in front of him. “Memorize these, too. As fast as you can.” Mitsunari nodded and tuned everything else out. As they were putting everything back where they found it, they heard (Y/N) say loudly from the courtyard, “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve arrived! My husband and his business partner are fighting! Please put a stop to it!” Mitsuhide smirked and looked at Mitsunari, who had a pained look on his face as he softly asked, “Lord Mitsuhide, do we really have to…?” In answer, Mitsuhide grabbed the man’s collar with one hand and shot open the door with the other as he jeered loudly, “You spend too much time with my wife, you imbecile.” He balled up his fist, ready to throw a punch. The silver-haired man gave a mirthless laugh – completely unlike him – as he struggled against Mitsuhide’s grasp. “Yes, you’re right, I do. Enough time to see that she loves only you.” Mitsuhide had been set on giving a good stage combat sort of punch as a reply to Mitsunari’s comeback. But those were NOT the words he was expecting to hear. He hesitated for a moment in an unlikely display of shock. That split-second was all the strategist needed to grapple Mitsuhide’s arms behind him in a vice grip. “What – ?” was all Mitsuhide was able to say before Mitsunari squeezed down on the pressure points in the man’s elbows; sending sharp pains up and down his arms, and forcing him to grit his teeth in silence. “You will treat Lady (Y/N) with respect and gentleness, and you will be so attentive that she’ll never want for more. You will be the man she deserves.” That was the last straw. Mitsuhide had had enough of this charade. He could see guards were coming into the courtyard. His calm voice held a steely edge to it, “Oh, that’s rich. The man who can’t decipher emotions is telling me about love?” With great effort, he pulled out of Mitsunari’s hold and casually strode down the hall towards the guards, and waved his hand in a beckoning gesture to (Y/N) as he kept walking. In a honeyed, mocking tone that belied his own pinched feelings, he called to her, “Come, my dear wife. I’m supposed to attend to you.” He reached the guards and raised an elegant eyebrow. “Show us the way out. I’m sure we’ve overstayed our magnanimous host’s generous welcome.” (Y/N) cast a concerned glance towards Mitsunari, who followed at a safe distance, before she skipped to Mitsuhide’s side and took his arm. ——– After they reached the inn and (Y/N) headed to bed, the two warlords stayed up to debrief. Mitsuhide waited to speak until the other man’s brush had stopped recreating all the documents and maps from memory. He began to wave the papers to dry the ink, saying in a disinterested tone, “You surprised me with your acting. That last bit was especially entertaining.” Mitsunari took off his glasses and wiped them. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, my lord. I may not know what love is, but I do know that (Y/N) feels 10 times for you what she feels for the rest of us at Azuchi.” There wasn’t a hint of guile in his tone or his face. He put his glasses in his pocket and stretched, yawning. For the second time that evening, Mitsuhide was shocked by the sincerity of the younger man. He noted grudgingly to himself that he was never caught by surprise so often as when he was on a mission with Mitsunari. He wondered if that was why he kept requesting his presence for investigations. Was he so jaded that he hoped for a bright glimpse of purity? So calculating that he craved a jolt of wonder? Is that why he was drawn to the chatelaine, too? Was he nothing more than the moth to their flames? Nonsense. He simply required Mitsunari’s steadfast honesty, and (Y/N) was an amusing diversion. That’s all there was to it. Dismissing these intruding thoughts, the white haired man mused, “Those holds you used on my arms were impressive. I’ve been meaning to look into the study of pressure points and was hoping to master them to use in other areas of my work. Tell me more.” Not batting an eye at the change in topics, Mitsunari began to explain, “Well, I know I can’t overpower a lot of men. And I won’t always have my sword with me. So I started to study certain holds and ways to exert pressure to have the upper hand in close combat. I realized I needed to work on that after something you said to me during our last investigation…” — ohtomatotome

#ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen #ikemen sengoku #IkesenCC19

[knowltonsrangers]

Celebrating Robert Townsend’s Birthday HC’s

[A/N: I apologize for inactivity!! I’ve been working on a couple screen redraws and I’ve been drowning in schoolwork. My apologies! I hope you enjoy ❤️]

• his birthday is in November but I had this thought about celebrating his b-day with him last night and I just had to make these.

• he tells you months leading up to his birthday that he doesn’t want anything. No party, nothing.

• you have him thinking for a long time that he’s gonna get a party.

• “(y/n), seriously—I don’t want anything. Stop causing a fuss.”

• “who said anything about a party? I know you don’t like them.”

• you say it sarcastically enough that he groans and tries to get more information out of you. You don’t budge.

• the day before his birthday is the worst. He’s snooping around the house and trying to find out who you’ve been talking too the past couple of days.

• Robert doesn’t think you know his friends well enough to just text them randomly, but then again, his friends would gladly join any activity that would make him irritated.

• a few in particular come to mind the fastest.

• the day of his birthday you don’t wake him up, but he’s actually awake and trying to listen to what you’re doing.

• quietly, you dress for the day and then tiptoe out of the room.

• you’re in the kitchen on the phone, whispering in a hushed tone all while making two mugs, one fixed with coffee and the other tea.

• he sits up and contemplates escaping out the window when you come back into the bedroom.

• “(y/n)—“

• “Happy Birthday Robert!”

• you hand him the mug of coffee, and he smiles, just a little bit. He glances at the time and notices it’s nearly 11:30.

• “I suppose there’s someone hiding in the closet?”

• you choke a laugh back and instead give him the most confused face you can muster up.

• “why would somebody be in the closet?”

• “you’re very funny. Hilarious.”

• he says mockingly, but gives a laugh nonetheless. You let a giggle slip.

• “I’m only doing what you asked. No party.”

• you tell him to get dressed and then escape to the living room, where there is his present from you. You look at the room, making sure it’s perfect, when he enters.

• he looks around, cautiously.

• “I’m starting to think you actually didn’t give me a party.”

• “that’s what you asked for, Robert.”

• he groans again when you say it just a tad sarcastically.

• you take his mug and exchange it with a blue envelope and a little black box.

• “you’ll be the death of me.”

• he asked for nothing, but really?? You’ll listen to some of it, but not all of it.

• you went with practical. A new watch, but on the back is his initials and the year.

• he loves it. It’s something he needed, because his previous watch was acting up, something he was rather quiet about and he has no idea how you even figured it out—

• “okay, time to go!”

• you drag him to the car and you hop in the drivers seat before he can even process what’s going on.

• you have a nice lunch with his Father. He appreciates this a whole lot. He’s smiling and just loves that the three of you got to do this.

• he thanks you in the car and gives you a sweet kiss. What a cutie pie.

• he’s still half expecting a surprise party but when you get home and flick all the lights on there’s nobody.

• it has gotten a little late since y’all went for a sweet walk in the park after lunch.

• buncha sweeties.

• he loves how the day turned out!! Best birthday.

• he suggests a movie when y’all have collapsed on the couch.

• you tell him to pick whatever he wants.

• y’all curl up and watch Groundhog Day with Bill Murray (can you tell from the past couple of posts I love Bill Murray?? Lmao)

• he looks at you and says: “I seriously thought you were going to throw me a party.”

• you laugh. “You don’t know that. The night isn’t over.”

• “(y/n).” He says worriedly. “Is Caleb in the kitchen?”

• you shrug. He groans.

• Happy late/early birthday Robert Townsend!

[Tag list! : @shieldblacksailsonfrontier 💓 ]

#robert townsend #turn imagine #turn headcanons #turn: washington's spies #turn amc #uhhhh i wish it was november lol #i hope this isnt too ooc #i love Robbie he’s a sweetie #enjoy!!! #:))) #sul writes

[ohtomatotome]

Like a Moth to a Flame

Characters: Mitsuhide, Mitsunari, female-identifying self-insert MC

Rating: Everyone Word count: 2.3k Warnings: None Recipient: @widzzicicles / @destinedatmidnight Author: @ohtomatotome A/N: I was lucky enough to be assigned to destinedatmidnight for IkeSen Cryptic Cupid last year, as well. I wrote them a story about the budding partnership between Mitsuhide and Mitsunari. 

You can read that first story here.

This is a continuation of that same theme. ——– Kazunaga inhaled from his pipe and blew a stream into the air above (Y/N)’s head, adding to the already dense cloud of smoke in the reception hall. She coughed for the umpteenth time and fought the temptation to roll her eyes at the daimyo sitting in front of them. With a look of worry, Mitsunari laid a hand on her back, leaned over, and whispered, “Are you unwell, Lady (Y/N)?” With a definite nod of her head, she looked at Mitsunari and then at Mitsuhide, who was leisurely sipping sake a few feet away. She was sure he had glanced at her each time the daimyo exhaled a plume of smoke in her direction, but the golden eyes showed no sign of concern at the moment. Mitsunari turned to the household attendant. “Would you be so kind as to show us to your courtyard where Lady (Y/N) can refresh herself with a bit of cool air?” He helped (Y/N) to her feet and they gave a small polite bow to Kazunaga before following a servant out. She led them through the halls and out to the inner garden. As he turned to leave, Mitsunari gave a little self-deprecating chuckle and pointed around him at the surrounding doorways, saying, “Ah, I think I got turned around…which way do we follow to get back to the reception hall? I think it was that door, correct?” The servant quickly recovered her perplexion at his stupidity and shook her head politely. “No, those are my lord’s offices on that side. You came in from the doors right behind you.” She gestured to the double shoji doors, then bowed and left them alone.

(Y/N) sighed and ventured into the garden towards a large boulder to sit on. “What a rude man. Who blows smoke into anyone’s face, let alone a dinner guest? Ugh. I’ve got a massive headache. Thanks for taking me out of there, Mitsunari.” She gave him a grateful smile. Mitsunari returned the soft smile and stepped behind her. “I believe I can help relieve the discomfort with some light temple massage, Lady (Y/N).” He reached up and placed the pads of his fingers against the sides of her head, applying just the right amount of pressure. She closed her eyes and visibly relaxed to a great degree, trusting herself completely to his care. A few seconds passed; Mitsunari looked all around them before whispering instructions in her ear. “If this does not go as planned and we are caught here, you will need to get to a safe place as soon as possible. One of Lord Mitsuhide’s armed servants is stationed outside the manor gates in case that happens. He will escort you to an inn where his vassals are waiting to meet up with us tonight. Do you have any questions before Lord Mitsuhide finds us?” With a bigger pout than she realized, she sulked, “Hrmph. What makes you so sure he’d care enough to come after us?” ——– Two supply trains hijacked. Five dead soldiers. A large amount of ammunition missing. An important shipment of flintlock rifles stolen. And one very disgruntled Oda lord. Mitsuhide had been trying to uncover the mystery of who was behind the thefts. The trail had led to the household of Kazunaga, a daimyo who had recently joined the Oda forces. When Mitsuhide delivered his findings at the last war council, Nobunaga ordered him to verify it but take no action yet: “Punishment will come directly from me. First I want you to confirm he is the culprit.” Masamune patted his katana and smiled hungrily, “Just point the way, and we’ll handle him for you, Nobunaga. No need to get your hands dirty with this small fry.” Hideyoshi was ready to jump to his feet, “That man has been stealing from my lord! Probably to use those very weapons against him. We need to get there now and make him pay for his thievery.” Mitsuhide cast a cool glance at the simmering Hideyoshi, “And this is why I need someone who doesn’t rush into battle without a plan.” Mitsuhide surprised everyone by telling Mitsunari and (Y/N) to get ready and dress like successful merchants. “I can hardly show up by myself. What a paltry attempt at deception that would be. (Y/N) will be my wife; that will serve as a nice cover. Mitsunari is needed for his skills.” Ieyasu scoffed, “Which skill is that? Spilling tea? Or getting lost?” Truth be told, Mitsuhide appreciated Mitsunari’s gifts more than he liked to admit. This excursion would be the fourth time he’d called upon the strategist to leave his shabby office and travel with him for an investigation. The man was reliable, calm, brilliant, and he had his uses. But he was frustratingly naive. …Or was he? Mitsuhide had spent more time with Mitsunari in the last four months than in the two years combined, and he was beginning to notice that Azuchi’s angel wasn’t nearly as dopey as many believed. Posing as merchants of rare foreign imported goods, they had managed to obtain an invitation to dinner. Kazunaga had shown them adequate hospitality while they had been eating, but as they moved to the reception hall for smoking, sake, and sales talk, he slowly devolved into a rude host. Mitsuhide casually took a sip as the door slid shut behind (Y/N) and Mitsunari. The daimyo sneered at him, “You look quite comfortable for a husband whose wife just left to have a moonlit stroll with another man. Are you a cuckold, or do you trust him that implicitly?” With fox-like cunning and speed, he latched onto that idea and turned it to his advantage. He suddenly gave a scorned grunt, “Then let’s get business squared away quickly so I can go reclaim what’s mine.” They began to negotiate prices while Mitsuhide made his agitation shown as the minutes ticked by. ——– Mitsunari stopped rubbing (Y/N)’s temples before answering her question. “Because this has been long enough for your husband to be worried that his wife is alone with another man. Isn’t that right, my lord?” Mitsuhide stepped out from the shadows. “Too true. Woman, you know better than to wag your tail at someone else.” He deliberately stepped between them and put a possessive arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders. Under his breath he asked the other man one word, “Where?” Mitsunari nervously sidestepped the couple and backed up onto the walkway that led to the Kazunaga’s private offices. “Ah, don’t you think you ought to treat your wife a little nicer than calling her ‘woman’?” He continued backing up, feeling for the door latch behind him. Mitsuhide growled in indignation. “WOMAN, you go back to the party. You don’t want to see this.” He pressed a quick kiss to her temple before storming towards Mitsunari, just as the other man slipped into the room. Mitsuhide followed after him and slid the door shut. (Y/N) was momentarily stunned by the feeling Mitsuhide’s lips left on her skin. Even though she knew this was just play-acting, she couldn’t help that her heart was beating wildly. Keeping in mind their warning that there could be servants or spies watching from anywhere, she paced the garden with a fretful demeanor before making her way back to the hallways, giving the warlords plenty of time to finish their search. ——– “I hope that was sufficient acting, Lord Mitsuhide. I’ve never had to use such a skill before. I learn so many new things when I’m working with you.” A faint smile lifted the corners of Mitsunari’s lips as he searched drawers and crates for evidence of the stolen weapons and supplies. “Enough talking. Concentrate.” It was as much an order for Mitsunari as it was for himself. Mitsuhide was trying to forget how his arm had felt around (Y/N), and how her hair smelled. Did he subconsciously pick her temple to kiss because he wanted to erase the touch of Mitsunari’s hands on her skin? Had he really been jealous? He snorted lightly through his nose. A rustling sound of thick parchment snapped him out of this uncharacteristic line of questions. Mitsunari held the map up the light and put on his glasses. “There’s no time for us to make a copy. I’ll memorize it now and redraw it later.” Mitsuhide looked over the man’s shoulder and saw it was barely a map, if you could even call it that. Whomever created it made the lines and markings as cryptic as possible. But if you knew what you were looking for, you could tell these were locations of stockpiles. Mitsuhide left him to focus while he dug through other piles as neatly and quietly as possible. When Mitsunari put the map down, five more documents were thrust in front of him. “Memorize these, too. As fast as you can.” Mitsunari nodded and tuned everything else out. As they were putting everything back where they found it, they heard (Y/N) say loudly from the courtyard, “Oh, I’m so glad you’ve arrived! My husband and his business partner are fighting! Please put a stop to it!” Mitsuhide smirked and looked at Mitsunari, who had a pained look on his face as he softly asked, “Lord Mitsuhide, do we really have to…?” In answer, Mitsuhide grabbed the man’s collar with one hand and shot open the door with the other as he jeered loudly, “You spend too much time with my wife, you imbecile.” He balled up his fist, ready to throw a punch. The silver-haired man gave a mirthless laugh – completely unlike him – as he struggled against Mitsuhide’s grasp. “Yes, you’re right, I do. Enough time to see that she loves only you.” Mitsuhide had been set on giving a good stage combat sort of punch as a reply to Mitsunari’s comeback. But those were NOT the words he was expecting to hear. He hesitated for a moment in an unlikely display of shock. That split-second was all the strategist needed to grapple Mitsuhide’s arms behind him in a vice grip. “What – ?” was all Mitsuhide was able to say before Mitsunari squeezed down on the pressure points in the man’s elbows; sending sharp pains up and down his arms, and forcing him to grit his teeth in silence. “You will treat Lady (Y/N) with respect and gentleness, and you will be so attentive that she’ll never want for more. You will be the man she deserves.” That was the last straw. Mitsuhide had had enough of this charade. He could see guards were coming into the courtyard. His calm voice held a steely edge to it, “Oh, that’s rich. The man who can’t decipher emotions is telling me about love?” With great effort, he pulled out of Mitsunari’s hold and casually strode down the hall towards the guards, and waved his hand in a beckoning gesture to (Y/N) as he kept walking. In a honeyed, mocking tone that belied his own pinched feelings, he called to her, “Come, my dear wife. I’m supposed to attend to you.” He reached the guards and raised an elegant eyebrow. “Show us the way out. I’m sure we’ve overstayed our magnanimous host’s generous welcome.” (Y/N) cast a concerned glance towards Mitsunari, who followed at a safe distance, before she skipped to Mitsuhide’s side and took his arm. ——– After they reached the inn and (Y/N) headed to bed, the two warlords stayed up to debrief. Mitsuhide waited to speak until the other man’s brush had stopped recreating all the documents and maps from memory. He began to wave the papers to dry the ink, saying in a disinterested tone, “You surprised me with your acting. That last bit was especially entertaining.” Mitsunari took off his glasses and wiped them. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, my lord. I may not know what love is, but I do know that (Y/N) feels 10 times for you what she feels for the rest of us at Azuchi.” There wasn’t a hint of guile in his tone or his face. He put his glasses in his pocket and stretched, yawning. For the second time that evening, Mitsuhide was shocked by the sincerity of the younger man. He noted grudgingly to himself that he was never caught by surprise so often as when he was on a mission with Mitsunari. He wondered if that was why he kept requesting his presence for investigations. Was he so jaded that he hoped for a bright glimpse of purity? So calculating that he craved a jolt of wonder? Is that why he was drawn to the chatelaine, too? Was he nothing more than the moth to their flames? Nonsense. He simply required Mitsunari’s steadfast honesty, and (Y/N) was an amusing diversion. That’s all there was to it. Dismissing these intruding thoughts, the white haired man mused, “Those holds you used on my arms were impressive. I’ve been meaning to look into the study of pressure points and was hoping to master them to use in other areas of my work. Tell me more.” Not batting an eye at the change in topics, Mitsunari began to explain, “Well, I know I can’t overpower a lot of men. And I won’t always have my sword with me. So I started to study certain holds and ways to exert pressure to have the upper hand in close combat. I realized I needed to work on that after something you said to me during our last investigation…”

#ohtomatotome #my fanfic #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen mitsuhide #buddy cop #mitsunari #mitsuhide #ikesen fanfic #cryptic cupid #crypticcupid

[garlic8reath]

Taking requests

So, I’m constantly dealing with the difficulty of wanting to draw/write/otherwise make things, but even if I do have ideas, I have problems choosing ideas and with self-motivation. However! I’ve been reminded recently that I am fairly good about making things for other people, and I’d also like to work on building a habit for taking requests because I’d like to eventually open commissions!

TL;DR: I’m opening simple drawing/writing requests as an attempt to fight executive dysfunction.

What I’m willing to do at this time:

Simple Drawing Requests:

Simple doodles, no complex poses or scenes; probably won’t have color, but really depends on how I feel when I’m drawing!

Subjects I’ll accept are fictional characters, creatures, or animals. This includes anthros!

I’ll draw your OC and/or fursona, as long as you provide me references!

I’ll accept requests to draw your pet, as long as you provide me with a picture or two!

For fictional characters, I prefer ones from my Special Interest series (Dragon Ball, Pokemon, Undertale, Venture Bros, D&D), but I’m not against drawing characters/creatures from other stuff, even if it’s a series I’ve never drawn for or expressed interest in (as long as it’s not a character or series I despise.)

Specific requests work better with my brain (”character wearing x outfit” or “character doing x activity” vs. “character”)

Will also be willing to do screencap redraws!

No fetish/kink shit, nothing more lewd than a butt or a raunchy joke (no titty bc of tunglr’s stupid titty ban)

Simple Fic Requests:

These will be like 1-3 paragraph drabbles most likely

Only really willing to write for Dragon Ball, Vbros, or Undertale at this time

Characterizations and appearances of characters will be subject to my personal headcanons (ie: nonbinary Namekians, trans headcanons, etc.)

Not against doing shippy stuff, but I do vastly prefer m/m and w/w ships, and I won’t write for ships I think are bad

Like with the drawing requests, more specifics will make things easier for me, but the requests for fic don’t have to be super specific, like “Piccolo/Goku, kissing” would be enough for me to work with

No erotica, not comfortable with writing it at this time, sorry

Headcanons/Opinions/Infodumping:

Putting this as an option bc these are on par with writing short fic in terms of how much writing I often do

Will give headcanons for characters from Special Interest series (see above)

Will give headcanons for fictional species biology/worldbuilding

Will give headcanons for D&D classes/abilities/spells for fictional characters (ie: Pete White the Bard)

Will babble about animals/biology subjects that I know about

Will babble about food/cooking, give Hot Tips on cooking

That’s about all I can think of at this time; I’ll give updates if things change!

[unapologeticallyjaylos]

Jaylos June Day #5

@jaylosjune2018 : fifth prompt (bonus), June 21st - “The Universe told me that you were my soulmate - fluff/romance

Everyone had one.

Everyone.

It was Auradon’s most sacred piece of remaining magic, embedded so deep in their blood that no law could remove it.

“Who gives a damn,” had been Mal’s response. “Call it whatever you want, they're just tattoos, even though no one here seems to think so. And I’ve already got a shitload of those.” That got a laugh from Jay, his own tattoos well outnumbering those of the mainland kids as well.

“Well I think it’s romantic.” Evie had read enough romance novels - trashy and classic - to recognize the difference between regular ink and a soulmate mark. “My mom would freak if she knew though - she never wanted so much as a freckle blemishing my skin.”

The marks didn't matter much to Carlos, with their “forever” implications. At least not until he got one. Scary enough, his mark wasn't like any of the ones he’d seen in Auradon so far, with their dainty little outlines and pretty swirls. His was heavy handed, created with broad strokes, intense and powerful. He hadn’t seen it appear either, only looked down one morning to see a terrifying and familiar cobra winding its way up his wrist.

He wasn't stupid. He knew who it belonged to, who it represented. Deep down, he’d always sort of known he’d liked boys, but to see Jay’s sign on his wrist - it was nothing short of petrifying.

How could he tell the most gorgeous boy in his life that he’d landed the nerdy, pathetic de Vil boy as his apparent “soulmate”? How could he possibly put into words what he felt when they made eye contact or entered a room side by side to brave the world or the silent check-ins they’d do for each other?

His solution showed up in the form of an anxious teenage girl.

“I think- I think you're my soulmate, Carlos!” Jane looked just about ready to pass out as she waved her wrist in front of his face. There were obviously some marks there, although he had no idea what they had to do with him.

“Swords,” she explained, her words tumbling over each other. “You're from the Isle. Your mother tried to skin dogs with knives! It all makes sense.”

It didn't make sense, it made absolutely no sense. But it was a solution nonetheless. Soon enough, foundation covered the snake on his wrist and a new mark was drawn in permanent marker, something more suitable for the fairy he was supposedly dating now.

Wings were better than a cobra, he told himself. So much better. Although exactly why, he couldn’t say. Maybe because they were what everyone expected him to have, they were normal, right? Perfect.

All of Auradon seemed to agree; they told him constantly how cute he and Jane were together.

“You guys are adorable,” Audrey would assure him daily. “You just - fit! No wonder you’re soulmates. The two little nerds.”

Funny enough, the only person who didn’t go on and on about how well they worked was Jay himself.

“Hanging in there?” He’d ask, his voice oh, so comforting and safe. Carlos wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth, the truth burning under the layers of makeup on his wrist and dying to be out in the open.

“As best I can,” he’d reply with a sigh. “Every day gets a little easier.”

Carlos had almost convinced himself that there had been a mistake, that perfect, sweet Jane really was his soulmate, not Jay. Unfortunately, the universe had other plans.

Even without the mark, Carlos had never liked to share the locker room with the rest of the tourney team. Between his scars and insecurities, the vulnerability of being naked in front of the other guys was just a little too much. But Jay had always stayed with him, long after the others had left, and Carlos had never had a problem with it. Welcomed it, actually. But lately, he’d had to come up with excuses to send him away: forgetting Dude’s leash, his underwear, a sweatshirt, anything to get him running back to the dorm to leave the locker room empty for Carlos to redraw his new soulmark.

Today, he’d sent Jay back for a shirt he had “accidentally” left on the bed, and off the thief had sprinted.

Sitting down on the one of the benches, Carlos pulled a makeup kit out from behind his gear, complete with a marker and a picture of the very first time he’d drawn it for reference. Carlos had gotten very good at drawing his simple little mark, so much so that he almost didn’t need the picture anymore.

“Hey, ‘Los, I just remembered, I got an extra t-shirt in my locker, you can just wear - what the fuck?”

The freckled boy flinched so hard he knocked the rest of the makeup onto the floor, his mark only partially covered. His heart beat had taken over for his ears, silencing nearly everything else as he scrambled backwards, away from Jay who’d just reentered the locker room.

“T-this isn’t - it’s not what you think -”

“Really?” Jay picked up the reference image, frowning. “Because it looks like you’re drawing on that fucking soulmark. Holy shit, Jane - she’s not your soulmate is she?”

Carlos could feel himself losing control, he felt the situation slipping out of his hands. He’d retreated as far as he could, his back slamming into the cold metal lockers.

“‘Los, oh god, hey, I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Jay stayed right where he was, his voice suddenly very low. “Do you - do you have a different mark?”

“Y-yes.” Carlos’ wrist was clutched tightly behind his back.

Don’t ask me to show it to you. Please.

“Does… it have anything to do with why this appeared last month?” Jay lifted his shirt and grabbed a makeup wipe from the bench, rubbing away at a patch. As the foundation rubbed away, he saw that a pawprint had been inked on the tan skin.

“You - that’s - your soulmark… is mine… ” Words didn’t seem to be forming coherently in Carlos’ mouth. All he knew was the mark on Jay’s torso had to belong to him. “I’m so sorry…”

“Sorry?” Jay shook his head. “What on earth are you sorry for? You’re my best friend, my favorite person in the world, damnit ‘Los, I thought there had been a mistake! You have mine, don’t you? My sign?”

Very slowly, Carlos brought his wrist out into the light, the cobra just as apparent as it had been from day one. He searched the thief’s face for any sign of disappointment or anger, but found none. Just something that looked a lot like happiness, the corners of his mouth quirking up in a grin.

“Fuck, de Vil, I knew it was you. The universe told me that you were my soulmate.”

“No, I'm pretty sure the little mark on your skin did.” Now that the initial shock had worn off, warmth came surging back into Carlos’ veins.

“Well, the universe put the mark there, so riddle me that, smartass.”

“Yeah, yeah, do we kiss now?”

The thief snorted, his hands finally reaching out to pull Carlos in. Their kiss was long, sloppy, and very overdue.

“What’re you gonna tell Jane?” Jay mumbled finally, pulling back just enough to see Carlos’ eyes.

“The truth.” Never in his life had the freckled boy felt more secure. “That my soulmate has a dick.”

#jaylos #jaylosjune #jaylos june 2018 #jay descendants #carlos descendants #writing

[lunarsaga]

EPISODE 4: A Secret Long Kept

WARNING: THE ART IN THIS CHAPTER WILL CONTAIN BLOOD (as well as an artistic interpretation of demonic possession. VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.

As a side note, the art in this chapter might be a little mismatched, as it was kind of put together from a couple tiny scenes. (and I didn't wanna redraw/color all of it ^^;) HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR LUNA'S TRAGIC BACKSTORY!! ENJOYYY~

Chapter 5 is already up on my Patreon! Hopefully I'll finish Chapter 6 soon, but my patrons will see it first!

The nightmares were over. Kagome, Miroku, Sango and Shippo were able to overcome Garamaru’s cocoons, and the nightmares he tried to trap them in, and it was all thanks to Inuyasha. As they gathered together, they watched as the Forest of Sorrow disappeared around them.

“Is everyone okay?” Kagome asked as she joined back up with the rest of them.

“We’re all fine now,” Sango answered, but… she was a little unsure. She glanced to the side, and Kagome followed her gaze to her sister, who was standing apart from the rest of them.

“Luna?” Kagome called to her. “You okay?”

“She seems rather distressed by what she saw,” Miroku said.

“I wonder what it was…” Sango uttered.

"I hope she's okay..." Shippo worried.

“Tche,” Inuyasha scoffed. “It’s not like it matters.”

For a second, Luna didn’t answer; she barely registered Kagome and her friends talking behind her. With her back turned to the rest of them, she was zoned out. Hazel-brown eyes stared blankly at the beat up little polaroid photograph in her hand, but her gaze was thousands of miles away, and hundreds of years in the future.

It may as well have been a relic from a different time. In the photo were two blissfully happy teenagers. One, a girl with fluffy black hair that fell in waves just above her shoulders. The other was a boy with strawberry-blonde hair, eyes so blue the sea would be jealous of their sparkle, and cheeks sprayed with freckles. He held the girl in his arms, grinning as his lips hovered close to her temple, ready to press a kiss there.

Kagome turned to Inuyasha, chastising: “Inuyasha! Why would you say that?!”

Defensively, Inuyasha’s volume only increased. “What?! You all had nightmares, if she doesn’t wanna talk about it, then it ain’t our business anyway!”

He's right, the little voice inside Luna's head whispered. It doesn't matter. It's not their burden to bear. Only yours. A burden you'll carry until the day you die...

"I love you, Lu."

You shouldn't have.

"I'll follow you anywhere."

You shouldn't have.

"I trust you... You can do this."

No, I couldn't. And now...

Worried about her sister’s lack of a response, Kagome went over to her, reaching for her shoulder. “Luna…?”

As she heard her sister step up behind her, Luna quickly hid the photo in the pocket of her flannel shirt. “I’m fine, you guys,” She said, loud enough for everyone else to hear. “Don’t worry about it.” She felt a single, solitary tear sliding down her face, and quickly wiped it as she turned back around.

“You’re my sister, Luna,” Kagome said softly, “I’ll always worry about you.”

“I promise it’s fine. Not like I’ve never had nightmares like that before.” Blinking back more tears, she patted her sister on the back and moved back toward the group. “Anyone else ready to get the hell outta here?”

“Forgive me, Luna, but you look like you were crying just now.” Miroku said.

“Must be allergies,” Luna quickly lied, “Never took well to insects, and that cocoon was nasty.”

“No surprise there,” Inuyasha, dense as ever, turned and started leading them away. “C’mon! We can’t waste time going after Naraku.”

Kagome hesitated, then reached out to grab her sister’s hand, holding her back. “Luna, you know you can talk to me, right? You’d tell me if something was bothering you?”

Luna didn’t look at her. “It was just a bad dream, Kags. I have a lot of them—kinda comes with the job.”

Kagome didn’t believe her, but she didn’t have a choice other than to let it go. One of these days, you’ll have to open up, Luna. And I promise I’ll be there for you when you do.

~~~

Luna wasn’t sure where exactly she took a wrong turn, but here she was in the middle of the damn forest, with no way to tell which way was up.

The others had stopped to make camp for the night, but Luna couldn’t get that nightmare out of her head, so she told them she was gonna take a walk to shake it off. It was just a memory, one that played in her head so often she should be used to it by now, but… something was different about it this time.

In all the similar nightmares she’d had before, usually, she had no hands. No mouth. No voice. When she moved, it was like she was moving through jell-o. She saw him—those sea-blue eyes and hair like strawberry honey, freckles like constellations and a smile from Heaven itself—saw him say the things he’d said back then:

“I love you,” He whispered, holding her close as the night sky above them exploded with fireworks. She saw the trails sparkle in his eyes just before he leaned in and they shared their first kiss.

Then, it was months later, as the autumn leaves crunched under her boots and her shotgun felt heavier in her hand. But even as she revealed her secret life—one of monsters and magic and danger—he was unwavering. Resolute. “I’ll follow you anywhere,” he said as he took her hand.

The last part… she couldn’t bear to think about, but this was what changed the most with her new nightmare.

Usually, she just saw him offering her encouragement, even though he was the one bleeding from his eyes: “I trust you… you can do this.” Then, she would scream, but no sound would come out, she’d spiral down into darkness and wake in a cold sweat.

But this time, it was different.

After he’d pledged to follow her anywhere, she was taken back to the place it all ended—a little overgrown shack, hidden out in the woods about half a mile from her house. It was their special place; a secret clubhouse of sorts. Polaroids hung on a string on the wall, and the small tree growing in the corner bore their initials: L.H. + J.D.. Shadows danced on the walls, and she couldn’t see more than three or four feet in every direction.

In her previous dreams, she could never speak or move like she could in the waking world, but this time, she felt almost fully conscious. She stood where she always had, facing him down—the same man. The one she fell in love with.

But it wasn’t him.

His sea-blue eyes had been completely overtaken by pitch black. His hands had been too, like they were made of pure shadow; shadow that curled down his forearms. His teeth were just as she remembered; stained red from choking on his own blood.

“You did this.” It wasn’t his voice. It was the creature that had taken him. “You killed him, little moonchild.”

She couldn’t argue. Her voice would work if she tried, but… even then, as she faced down the most lucid dream she’d had since the incident… she couldn’t speak.

“Nothing to say?” The demon taunted. “The eldest of the Mighty Higurashi family has nothing to say?”

“Shut up!” She’d finally said. She could feel the wetness of tears on her cheeks, but this had still been a dream. They floated around her like there was no gravity. “Is that all you have to say?!”

The demon seemed a little surprised of her response, so she kept going:

“I know! I fucked up! I brought him into a world he should never have been a part of, and I never should have in the first place! I put him in danger and I am the reason why he got killed!” The tears flowed freely, and even within the dream, she could feel her body shake with anger. “You can’t do shit to me, you greasy little fuck—anything you think you can say to me is shit I’ve already said to myself! You can’t hurt me!”

Maybe that was what shattered the dream; she didn’t remember anything after that. But that was never something she would share with anyone else.

No one else had to know about Jack. She was going to take her damning mistake to the grave.

And… now she was lost. Again.

“I gotta find a way to make a medieval GPS tracker or some shit…” she grumbled, cursing herself for having forgotten her compass in her backpack.

But then came a voice, one she recognized.

“Miss Luna!”

Around the bend of a large tree sat the little girl she’d helped out her first night in the Feudal Era; Rin. It’d been, what? A week or two since? And no sign of “Lord Sesshomaru”.

“Hey kid, you get left behind again?”

“This woman again?” That was the little imp Jaken; the somewhat irritating second hand to Rin’s guardian. Luna merely arched an eyebrow at him. At least Rin wasn’t completely alone.

“It’s okay!” Rin assured her, “Lord Sesshomaru will be back! Come and sit with us, I’m glad to see you again!”

“Don’t just invite random humans over!” Jaken protested.

“I don’t think your friend here agrees,” Luna chuckled.

“Don’t worry about Master Jaken!” Rin giggled, much to the chagrin of the tiny demon. “I would like to know more about you!”

Luna glanced away, hazel eyes locked in a thousand-yard stare. “...more about me, huh?”

“Yes,” the little girl nodded. “The last time we met, you said you were Miss Kagome’s older sister… are you a priestess like her?”

Luna chewed her lip, not sure how to answer. Pretty sure I don’t have powers like her... “I don’t think so. I’m more of… a demon slayer, I guess?”

That was only the first of many questions the little girl had for her. Why did she dress so strange? Where was she from? What was it like? Were there demons there too? Luna could barely keep up with answering all these questions.

“You talk way too much, Rin!” Jaken barked at one point. Luna watched the smile on Rin’s face falter, and glared at the little demon. “Hey, leave her be. I don’t mind.” She turned back to Rin, nudging her shoulder. “Why not tell me about you now, huh? How long have you been traveling with these two?”

When Luna had first met Rin, she had no idea that the “Lord Sesshomaru” the girl wanted to return to was actually Inuyasha’s cold, murderous older half-brother Kagome had described. Imagine her confusion when she had to reconcile the “evil, human-hating demon” with the guy this little girl trailed along behind so faithfully.

“Just a little while now!” Rin answered, “But it’s better than living around humans!”

Luna laughed. “You got that right… any reason why?”

“Well… I was alone… My family…” Rin’s face fell—the poor girl looked almost hollowly into the fire, hugging her knees to her chest as she recounted her past: “My parents and brothers… They were killed by bandits, then… after being on my own a while, I was attacked by wolves…”

There wasn’t a full moment of quiet before she perked back up again, grinning at Luna. “But Lord Sesshomaru saved me! And I’ve traveled with him and Master Jaken ever since! That’s why I don’t want to live with humans… humans are awful...”

Luna shrugged, sympathetic. “They can be, yeah. But you feel safe with these two, right?”

Rin nodded, grinning still. “Yes!”

“That’s the most important part.” She reached forward to ruffle the girl’s hair. “I was practically raised by a cat demon, you know.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. She’s protected my father’s family for three generations now—and she is hands down my best friend.”

“I don’t think I have a best friend…” Rin turned to Jaken, “Master Jaken, are we friends?”

“What?!” The little demon shouted, “No way! Why would a demon like me be friends with a human brat like you?!”

“Miss Luna’s best friend is a demon!” The girl pouted, and Luna swore she felt her heart melt.

“I’ll be your friend, kid.” She offered.

Seeing the little angel’s face light up like it did was absolutely everything. “Really?!”

“Yeah, really.” Suddenly, Luna got a weird little feeling in her gut. Like a disturbance in the Force, she joked to herself. Maybe it was just… the start of something bigger, something she wouldn’t know the full consequences of until much later.

“Actually…” She mumbled to herself. The gears turned in her head a little, and she turned back to look at Rin again. “You just gave me an idea.”

#oc #inuyasha oc #inuyasha fanart #inuyasha #inuyasha rin #the lunar saga #fanfic #my art

[naturepointstheway]

Day 30/30: “Days in the Sun Will Come Shining Through”

Finally. We come to the end, and okay, I may have cheated a little and used one of my earliest BatB fics back in June, but I expanded and improved on it, so...it’s both old and new in a way, and don’t worry, it all ends on a happy note. Perhaps think of it like what a lot of artists do, doing a redraw of a piece of artwork they did a year ago (or six months ago or whatever), but in this case it’s with an old piece of writing done five months ago. 

For the curious, here’s the original prompt from back in June that had come from @morgaine2005

Stars burned bright for the first time in forever in a gloriously cloudless night sky above the castle, as though they too rejoiced in the return of the prince to his human being. Much revelry inside and outside of the castle had gone on for hours, nay, days now, but who could blame the people for rejoicing that they were human again and were reunited with loved ones? Who could blame Plumette and Lumiere for spending quality hours behind a locked door (and unlocked doors)? Who could fault the prince for spending hours with Belle, telling her all that had happened in his life, in the comfort of her arms? Who could blame Mrs Potts for almost never letting Chip out of her sight, bestowing him with cuddles and kisses whenever she could to make up for all that lost time?

No one, not least of all, Prince Adam, could find it in themselves to blame anyone for wanting to rejoice. Yet, despite his own overwhelming relief and happiness at the curse’s undoing, Prince Adam found himself desiring quiet away from the crowds. He couldn’t remember a single time before the curse when he had ever desired such a thing. Once, he desperately longed to be in the centre of attention at festivities and parties, but now he found himself just as—if not more so—content being on the periphery of the crowd.

It was on one of these joyous evenings, bubbling over with song, music, and dance, that the prince quietly slipped away, leaving Belle to chat with much animation to Plumette, with whom she had become instant companions, like they had been friends all their lives. He had to smile internally when he saw just how much they were the best of friends, and a well of happiness for Belle filled him on knowing she finally found the companion she never had the chance to have for most of her life.

On this particular night, the prince wandered down candlelit hallways resonating with song from the ballroom, where Garderobe was giving it her all. Cadenza’s passionate harpsichord melodies lilted and danced and twirled down on the warm, summer air that wafted through the windows of the palace. Without really thinking about it, he began humming along with the melody, letting its romantic notes fill every part of his soul with its beauty. He even found himself dancing along to it, waltzing in tandem with the melody.

After a while of wandering the halls on feather-light feet, Adam stopped before a doorway that opened out onto a quiet balcony of the castle. It had been left ajar; perhaps someone had already gone out on the balcony to catch some quiet and fresh air, maybe even gaze upon the stars stretching from horizon to horizon. Perhaps they stood out there now, hands on the ledge of the balcony, eyes closed as they inhaled the sweet scent of night-time deep into their very soul. And was that a shooting star that just streaked across the sky, so bright that it left behind an impression of itself on Adam’s eyelids?

May as well go watch the stars too, Adam decided, pushing the door a little more as he stepped outside, and enjoy some peace and quiet.

The prince strolled out, his shoes tapping against the stone floor as he approached the balcony’s edge. Once he reached the ledge, he leaned forward on it, eyes still gazing upon the dazzling night sky. His elbows dug into the stone still warm from the day’s sunshine. His hands clasped together over the ledge, hanging out in mid-air as he listened to his own thoughts.

Curious, isn’t this? Curious that I should love the quiet when once upon a time I sneered at the idea.

As he stared up at the twinkling stars coating the sky in glittering magic, he listened again to the loud, clear music in the distance–Cadenza and his wife were still playing into the night for an adoring audience. The prince was sure that the couple could play well into the next dawn if they so desired, fuelled by nothing but their passion for the art of music.

“Care to enlighten me with your thoughts?”

Adam flinched in surprise at the new voice, turning aside to see Lumiere had joined him, a tall glass of champagne in each hand. Right now, he was offering one to the prince, who accepted it with a quiet thank you.

“To happiness, mon ami,” Lumiere said, raising his glass to clink it with Adam’s.

“It’s been a long time coming,” Adam mused as he turned around to lean his back against the railings, unconsciously mimicking Lumiere’s own cross-legged stance. “Where did you come from?”

“Paris?”

“I didn’t see you on the balcony.”

“I was here all along, my prince! You just didn’t see me, that’s all. Plumette’s still talking with Belle, I take it?”

“Like they’ve been friends all their lives.”

“Ahh, here, let’s have another toast—to friendship.”

Adam couldn’t help a small grin when their glasses clinked, Lumiere taking a long gulp from his own glass, draining it.

“I’m glad for Belle that she’s found such a good friend in Plumette,” Adam said, “I don’t think she’s ever had a best friend in her whole life before she came here to this castle.”

“Poor cheri, but she is happy now, non?”

“Happier than she has ever been in her whole life.”

Lumiere raised his glass as though to toast again, then made a show of astonishment when he saw it was empty. He left Adam’s side to quickly grab the bottle from where he’d left it on the ledge farther away before returning, glass already filled. He offered the bottle to Adam, who shook his head as he lifted his own glass, still half-full.

“A toast to our Belle,” Lumiere declared, clinking his glass against Adam’s again. “She has been the light of our lives since she came to the castle. And to think it all started with being clobbered by a stool.”

Adam accidentally inhaled his sip of champagne at the unexpected comment, coughing and wincing as the liquid burned down his throat. Lumiere thumped him on the back until his coughing mostly subsided.

“Let’s not drown our joys in champagne, Adam. Drowning your sorrows is one thing, but joy is another.”

“Context. Now.”

“The stool? Oh, nothing too dramatic—don’t scoff!—except for Belle smacking me with a stool when I first introduced myself to her in the tower. She was lucky you weren’t there.”

Adam didn’t have to try too hard to imagine his outrage had he been there to witness it. He always had a zero tolerance approach to anyone harming his staff—especially those he’d known his whole life long—or anybody else in his household. He might have yelled at his servants, but he would never have laid a finger on them, not like his father would have done.

“Lucky it was you she met, then,” Adam said, “And not someone in a more fragile form.”

A brief silence passed between them, both men trying not to imagine what could have happened had that been the case.

“She must have known,” Adam said, right out of the blue, earning a confused look from Lumiere. “The Enchantress. She must have somehow known I wouldn’t hurt any of you. Why else would she allow some of the household to be transformed into fragile household items?”

“You know…” Lumiere leaned his elbow on the ledge, resting the side of his head against his hand as he studied the prince in some thought. “I think she sensed there was still some goodness in you left.”

Adam scoffed a second time.

“Don’t scoff, my prince,” Lumiere said, “Mrs Potts was discussing this with us the other day, you know. Said she always had faith in you all along, even when we…well. Let’s just say some of us lost all hope.”

“I probably deserved it back then. You all were unhappy.”

“You think so?”

“You were serving a ruler who treated his subjects in an appalling manner. I mistreated my people,” Adam’s voice threatened to crack, and he stopped, trying to take a deep breath, “I should have been overthrown.”

“And you weren’t.”

“Eventually, Lumiere, had the Enchantress not come along that night. You and I know full well.”

Silence again.

“Why didn’t you and the others leave with the guests?” Adam asked after a time, “It was your chance to flee from the castle.”

“We couldn’t just leave you, mon prince, not when you were in so much agony.”

“You could have run while you had the chance.”

“And we didn’t, did we?”

“You wouldn’t have been cursed with me.”

“And you would have been all alone, and what would you have done then?”

“I—” Adam’s voice caught in his throat, staring over at another part of the castle silhouetted against the night. He could see it from here, that tower that he had climbed, the highest point of the castle, that night when the hunter shot him. “I don’t know.”

“You know full well.”

“I do?”

“Adam, how long have I known you?”

“A while.”

“If by a while you mean since you were about five or six, then yes, I’ve known you a while. Long enough to know well what you would have done had you been completely alone.”

Another few moments of quiet passed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, even if shrouded in sobriety.

“I couldn’t have lived with myself had you become inanimate for good,” Adam confessed, “At least you and the others made it. Belle broke the curse in time to prevent you turning inanimate forever.”

The silence that followed, somehow hesitant and sombre, unsettled the prince.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.” 

It wasn’t a question or accusation from the prince, but the words of a friend to another whom they knew all too well. There was something heavy in Lumiere’s silence, an unspoken refutation of the prince’s own assumption they never turned inanimate. A chill crept down his spine, and he opened his mouth but found he couldn’t voice what he wished to ask. Fortunately, he was saved this difficult question when Lumiere confirmed it in a few words.

“We did become inanimate, at least a little while. Fortunately,” Lumiere’s voice lightened again, leaning back toward its more usual tones, “A certain young cheri was just in time.” 

“Belle…” 

“Belle,” Lumiere agreed, now placing a firm, confident hand on the prince’s shoulder. “As for me, old friend, I am a phoenix. Burn me and I shall return, rising from the ashes.” 

Despite himself, Adam couldn’t help a jovial laugh at Lumiere’s dramatic words.

“And what would I be? The terrible troll under the bridge?”

“The Beast in the enchanted castle,” Lumiere said without missing a beat, “Who awaits romance to save the day, and save the day it did.”

“Not without dying first.”

“Love looked the Grim Reaper dead in the eyes and thus said, you will not defeat me yet. Love then turned on its heel and walked out of Hades back to the land of the living, and voila! Here we stand, triumphant against death.”

“That’s…very dramatic.”

Lumiere laughed, raising his glass, “To our penchant for the dramatic.”

“Really?”

“My glass awaits.”

Adam shook his head in amusement, but clinked his glass with Lumiere’s nevertheless. Lumiere pointed at the prince.

“Your turn to come up with something to toast to next time. It can’t all be on my shoulders.”

“I don’t know what to toast to.”

“Anything. The stars, the music, the sun, anything.”

“We’re going to be here all night just toasting to everything if you had your way.”

“I would never!”

“You’d toast to every individual guest if you could.”

“Excuse me, I am the maître d’ of the castle.”

“Point taken.”

“So, what will you toast to?”

Adam considered the question, stopping himself in time from saying an automatic “I don’t know”. Lumiere was right, really—there was so many things he could toast to; there were so many things he was grateful for that deserved a toast. Most certainly, he was grateful, eternally so, for Belle having coming into his life. And he was also grateful for those who had stayed loyal despite everything that had happened, even if he still wondered if he deserved such loyalty.

What was it about them? What was it that kept them going? What was it about Belle that made me feel…

That’s what it was. Hope. Hope that maybe things would turn out alright in the end. And it did, it really did. Adam raised his glass, Lumiere’s face breaking out into a grin.

“And? What shall we toast to, mon prince?”

“To your unfailing hope that days in the sun will come shining through,” Adam declared, “And to the future full of more days in the sun.”

“Perfect.”

Clink!

#Beauty and the Beast #and fittingly it's just sunrise #the sun is shining through #the window to the east in my bedroom

[alindakb]

Letters to my Parents - Thursday 3 November 1994 - by Alinda

Thursday 3 November 1994

Dear mom and dad,

Well, my normal year has turned into a nightmare. I never should have thought that I could just be Harry for once, without anything weird or dangerous happening to me. Everything changed during the Halloween feast. In the beginning, we were excited about who would become the champions for the TriWizard tournament. Dinner seemed to go on forever before Headmaster Dumbledore finally stood up and announced it was time to learn who the champions would be. He extinguished most of the candles in the Great Hall, making it semi-dark. The Goblet of Fire shone brightly, the sparkling bright, blue-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes. And then the flames suddenly turned red and a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it.

The first champion was Viktor Krum for Durmstrang. He was sitting with Adrian and Miles a little further down the table. We all clapped and watched Viktor walk passed the staff table through the door into the next chamber. Fleur Delacour became the champion for Beauxbatons, the girl that is part Veela and makes most of the boys (and Millicent) swoon before her.

And then the entire Great Hall became silent. It was time to find out who would be the Hogwarts champion. We all hoped it would be one of the Slytherins who had put their name in the goblet. Adrian and Miles were clearly nervous. They both looked scared while we waited for the goblet to light up again. I must say we were all a little disappointed when Dumbledore told us that the Hogwarts champion was Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuff table went crazy and Cedric was grinning while he walked to the other room.

When the clapping had died down a little, headmaster Dumbledore started a small speech, only to be interrupted by the stupid goblet that can’t count or something. Its flames had turned red again and another parchment came flying out of it. The headmaster seized the parchment and stared at it for a long time. And then my life turned into a nightmare again when he uttered the words ‘Harry Potter.’

I was frozen on my seat, just staring at the headmaster, expecting him to say it was a silly joke. Draco was squeezing my hand tightly and I was aware that he was shaking his head. Professor Snape got up and whispered something in the headmaster's ear. I was aware that nobody was clapping or cheering. No everyone was staring at me. Hermione was even standing on top of the Gryffindor table so she could see me. I looked her in the eyes and said I didn’t put my name in. I know she couldn’t hear me but she nodded.

Headmaster Dumbledore called for me again and told me to get up there with him. But I couldn’t move. I was still hoping it was all one big nightmare and that I would get woken up by Draco any second now. Only that never happened. Draco got up from his seat and pulled me to my feet. He guided me towards the front of the room. I felt a little grounded by Draco’s hand in mine, it made the long walk seem less threatening. But just before we reached the front of the tables where we had to go right through the small door, professor Snape stopped us. I was to go on alone. I shook my head and tried to hold onto Draco’s hand. I was close to crying and I needed Draco. But Professor Snape wouldn’t let him come with me.

Draco kissed me in front of the whole school then. He took my head in between his hands and told me he would be right there waiting for me. He told me to be brave and rested his head against mine for a small second. I nodded and turned to the door, alone and scared.

The other champions first thought I was sent in to deliver a message. And then Mr Bagman entered the room. He took me by my arm and said it was extraordinary and introduced me as the fourth champion. I was vaguely aware that Fleur and Bagman had a discussion, but I didn’t really hear what they were saying. I was still in shock. Mrs Davis says that this was very normal, to be in shock like that after what happened. I’ve been to see her again, even though we agreed at the end of last year that maybe I could do without our regular visits. Draco said I should go see her, talk about what happened.

And then the other teachers were moving in around me. Professor Snape was there and he stepped next to me, shielding me away from the others. The headmaster asked me calmly if I had put my name in the goblet and I answered him truthfully. Then all the teachers were discussing how it could be that my name came out of the goblet and that it was unfair that Hogwarts would have two champions. Professor Snape stood up for me, saying that I wouldn’t lie about something like this. I opened my mouth to tell them that I can redraw, that I don’t want to compete anyway, but I never got the change. Professor Moody came walking in that instant and told us all that it was a magical biding contract and that there was no choice but to compete.

What he said next scared me most off all. Professor Moody thinks that the person that has put my name in the goblet might want me dead. And that they would have to be a skilled witch or wizard to fool the goblet like that. And there is no way for me to not compete.

After all that Mr Crouch gave us the instructions for the first tasks, which aren’t useful at all. The only thing we know is that it is to test our daring and courage. We are only to take our wands with us. The only good thing they told me was that I was exempted from end of year exams.

Draco was still waiting for me in the Great Hall when Cedric and I left the small room. Draco took me in his arms as soon as I was through the door. Cedric hovered a little around us. He asked me how I’d gotten my name in. Draco told him to get lost if he was stupid enough to think Harry wanted to compete in the stupid tournament.

We slowly walked down to the dungeons. I told Draco about what was said in the small room, about what Moody had said, that maybe someone put my name in to get me killed. I mentioned my dream from last summer wherein I’d heard Voldemort plotting my death. Draco stayed silent next to me, he just held my hand while I talked.

It seemed like seconds had only passed when we reached the stretch of wall that was the entrance of our common room. Draco waved his wand and once we stepped in, we were greeted by our housemates. Most of them were cheering and applauding. Miles asked me how I did it and Warrington clapped me on the shoulder, saying he wasn’t that upset about not being a champion knowing there was another skilled Slytherin competing. They had food and were ready to party. Nobody believed I didn’t put my own name in and nobody noticed that I didn’t feel like celebrating. Nobody except Draco, who forcefully pulled me down to the dormitories after a short while.

Blaise was in our dormitory and he looked lived. He had wanted to enter badly, wanted to show his mother he was good for something. He blamed me for not telling him how I had gotten past the age line. Draco told him to shut up. But Blaise just went on and on, about how we were supposed to be friends and that I didn’t have to lie to him, that I could tell the truth about how I did it. I told him I didn’t, but that someone did because they wanted me dead. Blaise just laughed at that. And then Draco slapped him in the face. Before I knew it they were rolling over the floor, fighting each other, until Greg came in and pulled Draco off Blaise. Greg and Blaise left for the hospital wing because Blaise had a bleeding nose. Professor Snape told Draco the next morning that he will have to serve detention for that little fight this week. He’s with professor Snape right now, probably cleaning caldrons or something.

The next day, Hermione pulled me to the library to talk about what happened. She believes I didn’t put my own name in and is worried just like Draco about the fact that somebody might want to kill me. Ron and Neville were with her, and they also agreed I would never have entered. Ron said I would have put Draco’s name in if I’d had the change since I went on and on about how good a candidate Draco would be. This made Draco blush and he kissed me on the cheek, saying Ron was right. Neville tipped in that he thinks I will win, but that he also believes I didn’t put my own name in.

Professor Snape had already informed Sirius the night of the Halloween feast and he’d written me a letter back straight away, which arrived the next morning. He’s also worried and he said he would see if he can come and watch me at all the trials. He’s afraid that Moody might have a point about somebody wanting me dead. He told me to stay clear of Karkaroff, that he’s a former follower of Voldemort and that he might have ill feelings about me. Draco laughed at that, said that it wasn’t me defeating the Dark Lord that made Karkaroff hate me, that he had a bigger problem with us being a couple and kissing right in front of him.

And that is how this year went from being fun to being a nightmare. I’ve got no idea how I’m going to get passed all the trials ahead of me. Not now there are so little friends left that want to help me. But at least I’ve got Draco and Hermione on my side, a godfather that looks out for me and a head of house who’s let me know that if anyone is giving me a hard time, he will put them on detention, making them clean slugs and other nasty tasks.

Love you both,

Harry James Potter.

#letters to my parents #drarry #harry in slytherin #Harry Potter #Draco Malfoy #triwizard tournament #champions #goblet of fire #AlindasStories