#Hope you enjoyed it!

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Thirty-One

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing’s Wrong with Dale Chapter 31

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten]  [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] Part Thirty-One [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You walk back to your ready chambers as quickly as you can without drawing notice, ducking to hide the smile on your face when you pass a couple of servants. You open the doors to your dressing room and almost jump when you recall the number of those waiting anxiously for your return. Steward Bilmont is still there too, collapsed in a chair looking quietly morose while the maids hover in an anxious group near the fireplace. All turn to stare at you when you return. 

You try to pull your expression back to something resembling neutrality as you stride over to your seat in front of your vanity. “All is well,” you say. “There will be no further confusion regarding the wedding.”

“Truly?” Bilmont asks, hope and disbelief in his voice. The maids seem similarly skeptical, but get back to work without a word. Luckily, it looks as though they had been making progress while you were gone—two additional trunks were packed. 

“Yes,” you reply, “there was a misunderstanding.” Which was certainly an understatement, but the most honest explanation you could provide with others present. “It has been straightened out. The wedding is going forward as planned.”

Bilmont threw his hands up. “Thank the light! I didn’t know what—” He cut himself off before he said anything further, merely shaking his head in unarticulated dismay.

You allow him the moment to gather himself, occupying yourself with the lace Miss Adir is laying out for you. However, he continues to linger and so after a look from Mrs Dearden, you turn back to the steward. “I’m sure you have other duties to return to, Steward Bilmont.”

Bilmont meets your eyes, blinking as if suddenly realizing where he is. Hastily he gets to his feet. “Yes, my lady, of course.”

You shake your head in amusement as he hurries out the door before turning back to the mirror and letting your maids finish dressing you. It’s mostly flourishes now, lace cuffs and collar mantle, the jewelry your mother provided. The veil re-purposed from Dale’s mother’s is still carefully arranged on a form, you’ll put that on last.

You still feel somewhat in shock, happy shock, but shock nevertheless. Dale didn’t know you knew what he was, but he does now. He wants to marry you. He’d said you were one of the reasons he stayed here, as Dale. He called you ‘exemplary’. And to think only an hour ago you’d been convinced everything had fallen to pieces. Instead you’re finally, finally, on the same page.

With that reassurance, more of your nerves have melted away, leaving you feeling eager anticipation for the beginning this wedding truly is.

“Are you alright, my lady?” Miss Adir asks tentatively as she helps to make sure the lace insert is sitting correctly over your collarbones. No doubt she must have questions about what happened and what sort of confrontation there might have been, even if she is too professional to ask.

“Hm?” You blink yourself back to the present moment. “Oh yes.” You feel a smile grow on your face, unable to be contained. You can find little reason to try to contain it. “I’m very well indeed.”

-/-

Some of those nerves return as you wait in the small ready room to make your entrance into the main hall of the monsacrin, where the spiritual ceremony will take place prior to the legal one. You’re dreading this one more as it involves the most pageantry and the most people. Certainly all guests will be at the wedding luncheon, but you will not be on display in the same manner. 

Even the buoyancy of your conversation with Dale had lent you is diminishing as you imagine all the ways in which you might make a fool of yourself. Your fears for Dale too are not insubstantial. You had been pushing those concerns to the side because there wasn’t much you could do to help—the wedding had to take place here, but how would the sacred affect him? He’d been fine during the rehearsal and the few common ceremonies you’d attended over the last few weeks, but…

You’d seen a sanctif nearly reveal him, not to mention Grandfather’s holy water attempt. He is certainly capable of being hurt by it. But to what degree? Both Sanctif Ellon and Dr. Louisa proved detection methods could be used successfully upon him, although not perfectly. Especially if he was forewarned and able to prepare as you’d seen with the sanctif. Hopefully, with the ceremony so straightforwardly laid out over the past few days, Dale will have prepared himself. Right?

Of course, he’d called off the wedding. He’d spent at least part of today thinking it wasn’t happening. How long had he been planning that? He’d been acting a bit strangely over the past few days, but ultimately the decision had seemed impulsive to you. He’d seemed as if leaving Northridge was his next move and yet, he’d clearly not been packed beyond for your wedding trip. The box he’d been filling with books and other items in his study had obviously been items he wanted with him, but would have been sent ahead to your next destination and so we’re prepared.

The swell of music, woodwinds and strings, interrupted your thoughts to let you know Dale had likely entered the monsacrin. He’d come from the right to walk to the middle. You’ve heard some merchant and peasant families had those who were to be wed enter at the same time given family status didn’t have the hold it had on the nobility. However, since you were joining the Northridge family, you’d enter second to stand with him instead of the reverse. 

Miss Adir hands you your bouquet as the melody changes. The door in front of you opens, letting in the brilliant morning sunlight. Your practice of the ceremony was all that prevented you from squinting in the face of all that light. Light was the most important aspect of Solennity and monsacrins had as much glass as they could and stay standing. It was traditional for weddings to take place in morning light, to signify new beginnings, and were held in the eastern hall accordingly. Sunlight streamed in, half blinding you as you walked down the left aisle, which cut at a diagonal through the seated guests to the dias against that eastern wall of glass. 

Once your eyes adjust, you keep them focused on the center altar, with its backing of colorful stained glass since its easier to look at, and where Dale waits for you. Gone is the more casual red waistcoat he had on in the study. Instead, the luxurious dark blue velvet that he’d selected nearly a month ago has been turned into a lovely suit. His overcoat is rich and plush, embroidered with detailed gold designs that are similar to those on his waistcoat. His trousers are the same color and disappear into polished black boots. The white of his shirt contrasts well and helps lighten the outfit. Even his hair ribbon is white, holding back his dark hair, except those styled in the front. He looks beautiful.

You try not to think about all the guests staring at you and focus only on Dale, only on being careful not to step on the hem of your dress or drop your flowers. The music swells appropriately until you’re stepping up the single step to where you’ll start the ceremony, next to Dale. 

Now that you’re closer and not so dazzled by the light, you can make out more of his expression. He looks down at you with a sort of proud awe that you admire given he’s already seen your dress and even your hair more than half done only an hour or so ago. Perhaps you haven’t been giving him enough credit for his ability to act. He is right in that no one else, beyond a few servants, knows over his nature. You smile up at him, more in relief and out of nerves than much else, but there’s also some awe, that you’re really here, that he’s really here—that it's all happening.

As the final notes play out, you carefully lean forward to place your bouquet in the vase to your side, the flowers a gift to the monsacrin and so your hands can be free for the rest of the ceremony. 

The sanctif walks up, giving the opening prayer for a wedding. He stands between you on the next step up and his apprentice joins him, her movements as smooth as in rehearsal earlier in the week. She hands the sanctif the ribbon chosen—blue and gold braided together—and he starts the prayer of unity.

“Today we join together these two humble petitioners who seek to unify their lives in marriage,” he proclaims. That is your cue, and Dale’s, and you both remove a glove—your right and his left. The apprentice sanctif takes your gloves while the sanctif continues, “As such endeavors are not to be taken lightly given their grave importance and profound influence on the times ahead, we so bind them.” 

You both reach out and carefully entwine your fingers together in a tight handclasp. The sanctif continues to speak as he winds the braided ribbon around your hands, but you barely hear his words. Instead your focus is on the steadiness of Dale’s hand, the moderate temperature of his skin, the way your arms overlap in order to keep your hands securely together. Your sleeves are short, but his are not. The sensation of the luscious velvet brushing against your skin is lovely. You can’t help but look up to see his eyes—only two at the moment, thank the stars—to find them already fixed upon you.

His gaze seems cautious until yours meets it, at which point his eyes crinkle in their corners to reflect the smile that blooms so naturally. Without thought, you mirror the gesture.

The music swells as the sanctif proclaims and you focus yourself back onto the ceremony itself, so you do not embarrass yourself by being caught unawares. You accept the candle holder from the attendant easily, the gold quickly warming in your hands. It’s simple white taper is unlit. Dale accepts an identical one as the sanctif recalls the story of humanity’s ascent from unintelligent darkness to enlightenment.

He paces the half-circle step, speaking to you and the audience, before he climbs to his place behind the elevated altar. He holds his hands up, supplicating, and begins to recite the marital prompts. “Do you approach this altar of light deliberately and of sound mind, willing and able, to join in sacred commitment to one another?”

“I do,” you chorus with Dale. He’d said with you for balance, he’d not need his cane, and yet the first step up makes you nervous that you’ll both fall, as if you’ve never climbed a set of stairs before.

“You may approach,” the sanctif replies.

You and Dale advance, you careful given your skirts and Dale careful given his balance. You reach the step with little difficulty, feeling almost foolish over how nervous you are, but the reminder of the low level of actual challenge doesn’t help.

“Do you approach this altar of light with honesty, loyalty, and fidelity in your hearts?”

“I do.” Perhaps that vow was what had started Dale on his doubts. The first rehearsal had been the day you returned to Northridge and you’d each gotten pamphlets explaining the ceremony, for all your responses were minimal and repetitive. 

“Do you approach this altar of light for the purpose of commitment, of unity, of harmony?”

“I do.” this is the vow you’re unsure if you would have meant with the original Dale. It would have been hard to reach any sort of harmony with him. You don’t have any such fears with Dale.

“Do you approach this altar of light with full faith in the enduring union you seek to forge, with no intention of end or fragility, with confidence and perseverance?”

“I do.” With your conversation this morning, you have no reservations or worries with your reply here either. Still, the sound of Dale’s deep voice in concert with you helps reassure you of his words, as does the feeling of his now-warm hand in yours, his body next to you. He’s not going anywhere.

You’ve both reached the altar and the sanctif smiles at you reassuringly, before he looks past you to those gathered behind you. His voice goes out to them, imploring, “Do any here know what might prevent this union? Do any here have any reason to disbelieve the proclamations made by those who seek to join together?”

There is a pause after his voice fades out in which you find it immensely hard to breathe, before the collective response comes, “We do not.”

“As your humble delegate, I implore the light to bless these two with the union they seek.” The sanctif turns from the altar to the fire behind him, which every monsacrin has lit at all times. Carefully, he lit the oak rod in his hand from its flames and with that, lit the large candle on the altar. 

The sanctif speaks on the virtues of marriage while he prepares the sacred cup, announcing the virtue of each herb he adds to the holy water held in its vessel above the candle. Truly, the fire was not enough to heat the drink by much, but it was symbolic of using light and heat to purify. You hope that Dale can drink it with ease. You’d taken note of the herbs at the last rehearsal and found most to be either without cause for worry or with little information to rely on. What flexibility there was with the recipe you took advantage of, except for juniper, which had to be included—and the book had specifically recommended that for purification.

“Drink from this holy vessel,” the sanctif says, carefully lifting the overlarge cup, truly more of a bowl, for you. “As is internal, so may be external. Light within, light without.” 

You’d practiced this too. Dale drinks first, as the higher partner so to speak. As he leans down, he’s careful not to drop his candle nor your hand.

Your eyes are intent on his face in what you hope is common attention for your fiance, but he seems no worse for wear. His mild grimace easily attributed to what you know to be the bitter flavor of the drink. Once he straightens, you mirror him, leaning down to take a drink yourself. At least the ceremonial cup closer to you height—the sanctif can only lean so far over the altar with it. Bitter, tart, and herbal, the flavors coat your mouth and the water flows quickly down your throat. You’re grateful to have tasted it before so you don’t cough.

Gentle windwood instruments play at odds with the powerful taste in your mouth. They swell around you as everyone sings a verse of gratitude. The sanctif uses his sprinklers, dunking them in the ceremonial cup now that you had each taken a drink. He hands the bigger one to his apprentice for the group below. With another prayer, he sprinkles holy water over yourself and Dale. Your eyes dart to Dale and notice the way his head is bowed in imitation of piety keeps his face at an angle that lessens the chance of holy water hitting it. He already drank it, but on impulse you turn over your hands, arms only slightly more awkwardly placed, so that your clasped hand is up and his is below.

Dale gives your hand a grateful squeeze as you see a few drops land on the back of your hand. Luckily, the sanctif’s blessing over you does not last long and he carefully puts the vessel away while his apprentice continues with the crowd.

“Blessed and enlightened in our souls, I bid you now to light the symbol of your devotion,” he intones. Dutifully you and Dale light your candles from the larger one simultaneously. 

Now comes the more difficult part: carrying the lit candles back down and turning with your hands still bound. You don’t care if you’re not as elegant as some you’ve seen in the past at the very few weddings you’ve attended. You keep your gaze firmly on your feet and Dale as the sanctif at last bids you to turn to away from the altar. “Do you depart this altar of light with determination to face life's hardships together?”

Your hold on Dale’s hand tightens as you turn your head, nerves and fear lancing through you unbidden by the crowd and the height. Dale takes the extra strain easily, skillfully stepping down and to the side with enough deliberate slowness you are able to follow him and remember your official response. “We do.”

Your voice is shaky, but Dale’s is clear and the sanctif does not ask you to repeat yourself. You’ve heard tell of sanctifs who demanded repetitions or even those who required a sentence response, re-framing the question. You are so very thankful you’re able to follow the simpler pattern.

“Do you depart this altar of light with persistence in the face of afflictions of the body?”

“We do.” You take another step down, allowing the floor of the step above to keep your hemline free of your shoes. At the very first wedding you attended, this was the vow you were convinced no one would be able to pledge to you.

“Do you depart this altar of light with compassion for the tumultuous emotions of the heart?”

Another oath that you would not have believed coming from the original Dale. His compassion was lacking and his tolerance for others emotions was minimal to say the least. This Dale surprises you still with his attention to your comfort and happiness. “We do.”

“Do you depart this altar of light with steadfastness against the complications of the mind?”

You chance a glance straight ahead this time, as you are meant to be doing the entire descent, and regret it. So many people staring at you as you walk down steep steps while holding fire. Whoever designed this wedding ceremony had best ascended far far away. You hastily look back down. “We do.”

“Do you depart this altar of light to serve your community and your kin with the attention duty and obligation require?”

“We do.” You are now back on the proper floor of the hall, lower than where you started on the first step. You’ve never been so grateful to the ground before. Why had it been so much worse than rehearsals?

“Do you, the gathered community, accept these vows made here in the light?”

Perhaps it was the audience, who again need an additional second to respond that makes your knuckles lighten as your grip tightens with anticipation. “We do.”

The stringed instruments join the lighter and quieter wood-winds, a masterful solo that allows you to regain your breath, for all you’d not been exerting yourself physically. You catch Callalily’s eyes in the second row and she smiles encouragingly.

When the music dies down again, the sanctif speaks, “Reward this faith in you with the gift of your abundance and illumination.”

You cross the stone floor to the first line of benches with perfect synchronicity, Dale shortening his long strides to match your own.

You light Grandmother and Grandfather’s candles with Dale. Grandmother’s eyes are misty as she smiles at you with joy. Grandfather’s smile is more tinged with relief when he looks at you both. Soon they turn to light the candles of the ones around them, who will turn to do the same. Once all the candles in the first row of benches are light, you and Dale blow out each other’s candles. 

The music speeds up as the light spreads to everyone’s far smaller candles and soon reaches the cue for everyone who’s candle is lit to kneel. The wave of people kneeling continues until all are knelt, anyone too young to hold a candle pulled down by attentive parents. 

You turn back to the sanctif, who’s descended to be only a step above the main floor. Dale guides your turn and approach until it is your turn to kneel as well, your concentration on how you do so in your more elaborate than usual skirt given your lack of free hands.

The sanctif’s speech on marriage is well-enough, he’d given you an overview earlier in the week, but you can’t focus much on his words. You can’t even ruminate on the marriage you are about to begin, the future that is starting now. You can only focus on Dale. You���d think with him pressed so close you’d grow used to the feeling of his arm, his body, against yours, but you don’t. You only crave to have his arms wrapped firmly around you like they had those two precious times before. To feel his lips against yours for a more satisfying kiss. You hope the light and heat can be blamed for any heat in your cheeks as you try to keep your mind on the present and the ceremony.

Soon enough, the sanctif prompts you to present your candles, the holders careful designed to catch and flow the cooling wax. The sanctif dips his finger into the cooling wax of your candle and Dale’s simultaneously. Then he presses a dot of wax to the back of each of your hands, still bound together. “I now pronounce you wed. You may seal the union with a kiss.”

You turn back to Dale, his eyes lit by more than the many candles and the sunlight streaming through the windows. Luckily, you don’t think anyone else will even notice as he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your lips.

Don’t go, you can’t help but lament in your mind as you try with your will to keep him close to you. Dale remembers your audience at least. As he straightens, pulling away from you, he lifts your joined hands in to signify the sealed union. It feels more like a victory salute to you. Victory to have gotten here, to have this ceremony complete, to have Dale joined to you. To be together.

After a final blessing with holy water sprinkled over your heads, you carefully get back to your feet. While the rest of the attendees join the instruments in song, they keep their candles lit so that the center aisle you depart down is lit from all sides. 

It’s considered back luck to undo the ribbon until out of the hall. You and Dale depart down the center aisle, hands still bound together.

[Part Thirty-Two]

[kcuf-ad]

Molly 13 and 27 for the ask game :3

MY CHILD! Thanks Sabella!

Okay, favourite friendship is almost a dead giveaway, but Scratch because of how far they have went to the point that she is willing to give up her best friend, her first forever friend, so that he could be happy, so that he could be himself and go with Adea. That ending fucked me up, man. A Close second would probably be with Libby.

If any character from any media would be the most fun? Legit any character that is a goofball. Ben Tennyson would transform into several aliens for fun as she freaks out on how cool they are, she would love to have some tea time with Mimosa Vermillion, no doubt, she would pet the ever lasting crap out of Atsushi in his weretiger form. She would so have conversations about Chappy the Bunny with Rukia and Orihime.

Though it is my favourite idea to see Sasuke Uchiha, yeah that guy, to be chilling with the complete opposite of him.

[thriceloved]

Can we always be this close?

Will I ever believe how deeply I’ve fallen into this wonderful obssession with Sebastian? Here I am, back with something else, after I saw those wonderful videos of which dance for which Hogwarts boy, and I must say this little one shot just wrote itself. Fluff and more fluff (and a little bit of spice in the end) <3 Hope you enjoy it!

Sebastian Sallow & MC - A ball in Feldcroft, when they’re older. She hasn’t seen him in a decade, after he’s gone to travel the world and try to move on. But her friends have been conspiring to set up a meeting between them, at long last. Dancing, confession, and maybe something more happens?

She was looking at the couples, on the dancefloor, lightly waltzing across the room, looking so happy it made her heart tighten.

She knew it had been a bad idea to agree to come, but Ominis had hoped to change her mind, and Anne had been delighted to know she was coming. Despite everything in their past, the women were friends, and they cared very much for each other.

But it had been a mistake.

She tightened her velvet cloak around her, hugging herself to keep warm. She’d been stupid, too, to take such a dress for a ball in Feldcroft. Silky, long and flowing, a deep emerald green that suited her skin tone, and complimented her dark hair, but regretfully had no sleeves. Snow was carpeting the fields all around the great tent they’d set up for the dance, and the air, despite the magic around them, was still slightly chilly. It would have been perfect had she been dancing, but she had no partner.

It was strange, to be back here, in the hamlet where she had spent so much time in her younger years. With him. As such was the charm of these places, it hadn’t changed at all. The people had grown, children were born, and some had moved, but for the most part, it had stayed the same.

In much the same way, she felt she hadn’t changed at all, either. Stuck in a loop where she still had her best friends by her side. Both of them. Before he’d gone away, travelling the world to atone. Asking to be left alone. Despite Anne’s curse lifted, and their secret buried deeply on this very ground, he couldn’t remain with her.

It hurt too much, he’d told her, in a rare moment of bravery and emotional honesty.

It hurt to even think of his name.

Sebastian.

How she missed him.

Apart from a few letters, each year, he kept away. Far, far away from her, from London, where she was quickly rising in the ranks of Aurors, and people were betting on when she would succeed the head of department.

A successful life, all in all.

She should have been happy, in the coming of the new year, and in many ways, she was, and grateful for what life had given her. For her magic, for her friends, for finding a place where she belonged.

But part of her was still yearning, when she saw those young couples make doe eyes at each other, some barely 15, pink-cheeked and fair-haired. When she saw the older ones secure in their love and mutual affection, gently swaying to the music that the enchanted orchestra was playing.

Anne and Ominis, too, were lost in their very own world, and theirs was a sweet bliss, leaving her heart warmer. It had taken very few years for Anne to boldly declare her love for the youngest Gaunt, and she had countered each of his protests, to his endless delight.

She looked away, drawing her eyes to the dark skies, and the stars. Countless times, back then, she had soared through the air, to try and touch those very stars, on her trusted broom. Felt her heart leap with joy and freedom, Gryffindor courage encouraging every dumb thing she’d tried on that broom, not least beating Slytherin Imelda Reyes, still playing for the Holyhead Harpies, only just past her prime years, in a bones-breaking chase around the cliff south of there.

When she was here, she was sent back to those times. Wherever she looked, their history blinked at her. To the west, the catacombs she refused to think about. To the north, the castle she’d gone with him to try and uncover more things about her strange brand of magic. To the east, the hill where they had nearly died when goblins had attacked. And of course, the cottage that was still home to Anne, and now Ominis’ too, just across the pasture.

And when it was snowing, such as that day, it only brought it back in sharper relief.

She closed her eyes, trying to stop the flow of memories that always came back, right after the painful ones. It was in this very place, after they’d got their NEWT results, and he’d said he’d travel the world, that they had said their goodbyes.

There, was where she had seen him for the last time.

Perhaps that was why she had agreed to the invitation, too.

To pretend, if only for a moment, that she was back there, and he was only a few meters behind her. Gone to bring back some drinks for them.

It was so pathetic. A grown woman, still pining after her childhood crush, like she was fifteen again, and not double that.

She sighed, knowing what would come.

“Hey… Don’t cry, darling.”

She had done it. She had started to cry, and gone so far into her head she was imagining his voice, now.

“He’s not there,” she reminded herself out loud. “It’s just a delusion.”

“Am I, really?”

It felt so real, though. And… His voice had changed a bit. Had her imagination gotten so good she could hear the way he’d sound, fifteen years older? She could definitely see it, the way his eyes would twinkle with mischief, and his mouth smirking a little.

“Come now, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”

She did, and her heart hammered so violently in her chest she thought she would faint. In an instant, he was close, holding her arms to keep her from falling.

He was there, looking at her with worry.

“Did I frighten you?”

She couldn’t speak, could only look at him, at the way his eyes shone in the light of the tent, his cheeks flushed with the cold around them. He’d grown, a lot taller than she was, now, and filled his dress robes very handsomely. His freckles were still there, perhaps even more visible from how tan he was, despite the winter chill around them.

He looked at her, too, avidly, as if he was only permitted a few minutes of her time until she was gone, and he wanted to savor it as much as possible.

But perhaps they would only have a few minutes, after all.

She managed to find her voice, and ask the most burning question.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ominis asked if I could come. Wrote he wanted to see me. See me?”

He shook his head with feigned annoyance.

“You’ve been gone a long time.” She insisted. Tell me the truth.

It was strange, standing next to him, after so long apart. She didn’t know how to fill the missing pieces between them anymore. How to fit with him. How to laugh with him. Her heart kept doing flips inside her body, stomach joining in apprehension.

“I’ve missed you,” he said simply, sighing, drawing a strand of her hair back into place, the gesture more tender than she remembered him ever doing.

It struck her, then, how they’d both grown. And she didn’t know how to reconcile her childhood best friend to the handsome man in front of her.

“It feels strange,” she added, turning a bit under the weight of his stare. “To be back here, with you.”

“Indeed, it does. I haven’t been back since Hogwarts.”

He turned, looking at the fields around them and the mountains in the distance.

The silence grew between them, tension as thick as the air was cold. There had been so much left unsaid, back then. She had so much she wanted to tell him, so much she wanted to know about his travels, but the words couldn’t escape her throat.

Thirty years old, and he still made her feel like a school girl, unable to evoke the emotional subjects with him. The light and heavy, they’d talked plenty, and she remembered with fondness everything they had shared.

“What are you reading these days?” she asked him suddenly.

Books were a safe topic. One of their favorites, actually. In fact, she had reluctantly avoided packing one in her bag for this very trip, knowing that if she had it on hand, she’d spend the evening in a chair and reading until it was time to go. It wasn’t as if her friends would have cared much, knowing her, and taken as they were with each other’s dancing.

She’d struck gold.

He turned towards her again, and began talking with animation about the latest manuscript he’d found on ancient spells, an Egyptian one he’d found in a tomb while breaking the curses around it.

So that was why he was so tan, if he’d spent months in the valley of Kings, by the Nile.

She listened avidly, drunk in his voice, his words, and soon it was like they were fifteen again, back in the library and discussing forbidden books, all excitation and mischief.

He asked her about hers, and she detailed her own finds, about adventures and magical fights.

He laughed.

“An Auror through and through. I’m sure you miss our duels, don’t try to deny it.”

“I do. Of course I do.”

That had been the second thing they’d bonded about. Dueling. As partners, and as opponents. Thanks to him, she had found one subject she excelled in above all others, and he had helped her hone her talents, until she was regularly handing his ass to him, beating the best duelist in Hogwarts dozens and dozens of times over.

It was familiar, now, the silence around them. Comfortable, and his smile was nothing if not playful.

“Well.” He said, finally. “I’m getting cold, and I’m sure Anne and Ominis will want us to at least have a dance before the night ends. Will you come with me?”

“Dance? With you?”

“Yes, I believe that was what I was asking,” he said, holding his hand to her, eyes sparkling.

How she had missed his flirting.

“I’d love to.”

She took his hand, and he led her to the dancefloor. By this time of night, most people were sitting to soothe their aching feet, or drinking to satiate their thirst after so much exercise, and there was plenty of room.

He gently put his hand on her waist, softly pulling her near.

“Is this okay?” he breathed, their faces so close she could feel his warmth radiating over to her, and keeping the chill at bay very efficiently.

She nodded, unable to talk again, and when the music started again, he launched them effortlessly in a waltz, one of the few dances she knew the steps of.

She didn’t know what she’d been expecting, dancing with Sebastian, but perhaps not quite this. It was so much better than even in her most fantastical dreams. He followed the beat perfectly, at ease with dancing as much as fighting, and she felt glorious, so elegant as he twirled her around, her dress fanning out around her as they moved, and each note brought them closer, and the melody seemed to burrow its way into her heart, until she felt as much a part of the music as the instrument, her body and dancing the only outlet they had for their feelings.

She didn’t notice the people looking at them, nor Anne and Ominis smiling at them when they noticed they were there.

In her world, there was only music, dancing, and Sebastian, his arms around her, leading her step after step, and she could follow his lead everywhere, to hell and beyond, to the end of time and space, if he asked it of her. She’d done it before, and she’d do it again without a thought. His scent in her nose, in her lungs, so familiar her stomach was aching with it, and she couldn’t get enough of it.

The music stopped, but only to start again just as quickly, and they danced, and they turned, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so free. So genuinely, blissfully happy.

At last, the music slowed, and he tugged her even closer, both hands on her lower back, and she leaned her head into the crook of his neck, arms locked behind his head, softly threading his tousled hair. She felt perfectly at peace, and she sighed her joy in the fabric of his robes.

If she could stop the world and stay there forever, lost in his scent, in his arms, in the slow swaying of their dance, she would.

“Are you happy?” he murmured into her skin.

“Yes. Now that you’re here with me,” she admitted.

“I’m sorry,” he confessed. “I should have come back sooner, but…”

“Hush…”  She looked up to him. “Don’t ruin this moment.”

He smiled, a bit tight, something bright in his brown eyes, and nodded.

“Later then.”

And he hugged her closer, as the music led them slowly around the floor.

At long last, they heard the last notes of the violin linger in the air, and silence come back to their little corner.

He drew back, and she stood straighter, as if awakened from a dream.

“Thank you for the dance, miss Asteria.” He bowed deeply, ever the charming boy that had captured her heart, even then, and she couldn’t help the smile, as she curtsied, too.

“It was my pleasure, Mister Sallow.”

Again, there was the smile she loved more than anything, that made his eyes twinkle, as he pulled her by the hand to the open air, under the dark sky.

It would still be dark for a few hours, but to the east, they could see the first hints of dawn, the darkness not as pronounced as before.

“It’ll soon be dawn,” he said. “You must be tired.”

“I’m fine. I’m used to not sleeping much at night. Auror, you see.”

He chuckled at her remark, squeezing her hand.

He had kept the entire night touching her, as if he couldn’t let her go, and it thrilled her. She refused to release him, as well, fearful that if she did, he’d disappear again, like a dream lost to the depth of night.

“So,” she began, knowing time had come. “Will you leave with the morning light?”

It was the real question, wasn’t it? They’d had fun, a good time, revisited old memories, but they had their careers, and their separate lives. A single night, that would turn into day, and bring back their obligations. Bring back into light why they hadn’t seen each other in years. Why he’d left, in the first place.

He seemed to consider his words, eyes lost in the countryside in front of them.

“I should have come back long ago,” he finally admitted. “But… I was afraid. I thought…”

“Yes?”

“I thought you had moved on. And that coming back, and seeing you with someone else… I’d go mad. I thought if I stayed away, you could move on, and I wouldn’t be holding you back, you could be happy, and I didn’t need to know the rest, just that you were safe, and happy.”

Her heart was beating faster. Part of her had always known he stayed gone for the same selfish reasons she hadn’t gone to look for him herself. If he was happy, but with another, it would have killed her inside, and just knowing it would have sufficed.

“I couldn’t move on,” she whispered. “I tried, but…”

She turned to look at him fully, and there it was again, the look of longing and passion she’d seen a glimpse of in her dreams.

“I wanted you, Sebastian. I loved you.”

He gasped softly, his hands trembling in hers.

“I still do.” She blinked tears away. “I always have, and always will.”

“Say it,” he urged her, both hands taking hers as he begged her.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

He didn’t need her pulling him to kiss her lips, bringing her hands with his around her face, holding her close as the kiss grew more intense. The gentle flame of hope that she’d kept around for years, deep in her heart, had morphed into a blaze, burning everything that wasn’t him or her, his lips, his touch, his warmth.

“I love you, my darling. Always have, always will,” he repeated against her lips, with a fervency that struck deep forgotten cords within her soul.

She kissed him harder, enough to leave bruises, and he giggled against her lips.

Breathless, she drew back, asking a silent question in her eyes, and he answered in kind, passion clouding his face.

“I’ll follow you, dearest.”

Holding him tighter to her, she apparated back to her flat, taking him along the hall to her bedroom.

She needed him. Merlin, how she wanted him. Touch him and feel him and kiss him, making up for those long, lonely years.

He followed her lead, when she pushed him on the bed, making their clothes disappear with a flick of her wand, which she then set haphazardly on the bedside table, returning to kiss him.

He left her lips to kiss her jaw, leaving a current of fire wherever he touched her. She closed her eyes, lost in a haze, her hands tightening on his back.

He turned her so that she laid on her back, him towering over her. He stilled, just looking at her beneath him, drinking in the sight of her, bare before him. She held his gaze, love and lust mingled in her eyes. He flushed as he kissed his way down her body, and she grasped his hair, gently running her fingers through it.

She felt so warm, the blaze within just as hot as the fire inside his eyes when he began licking her, right there where she needed him.

She closed her eyes, leaning her head back into the pillow, as she savored the way he made her squirm beneath his very skilled fingers and tongue.

“You’re so ready, darling. Does it feel good?” he murmured against her skin, and she could only moan her pleasure, tugging a little harder on his hair.

He chuckled with wicked delight, continuing his wonderful assault on her senses, drawing her mad with need, his breath cool against her fuzzy skin.

She could feel her consciousness slipping away, pleasure growing until it reached a high she had never felt before, and for a moment, she was lost, riding that deep, sweet wave into blissful oblivion. She came to, to see him watching her, lips close to her own, and she tugged him closer, kissing him to thank him for what he’d given her.

“I wish I could sear the way you look into my eyelids,” he whispered. “Lost to pleasure like this, you’re exquisite.”

She couldn’t help blushing, under his praise, and kissed him again, tasting her own scent on his tongue.

“Ready for your turn, my love?” she breathed into his neck, flipping him on his back, and going to touch that lovely, desperate part of him that had been so unjustly neglected.

She would never forget the way he looked then, almost pleading, begging. It twitched when she touched it, silky smooth and responding to her softest touch, and she bent to kiss it.

His answering moan told her everything she needed to know about whether she was doing well. Slowly, unbearably slowly, she touched and kissed him there, feeling him try to stay still, but he was breathing hard, and fast, and it was a perfect melody to her, left here, in her gentle, teasing hands, until he could bear no more and tugged her back to him, kissing her again.

“You’ve been learning a few tricks, darling.” He smirked against her lips.

“So have you,” she said, fingers entwining in his hair. “Books are invaluable, don’t you think?”

“Mmm” he buried his nose in her neck, gently turning her again. “Just books?”

“Yes. There was never anyone else.”

He looked up to her, and again, she could read everything in his eyes. It unmade her, the vulnerable, soft part of him that he so rarely let out.

“You’re my first, too,” he admitted.

“Come here. I’m ready,” she whispered, finding his hands and holding onto them, fingers linking.

So he did. Gently, slowly, he buried himself inside her, eyes locked on each other. He was trembling in her arms, and stilled, letting her time to adjust to the way he felt inside of her.

If her heart grew any bigger, it would burst out of her chest, from how complete she felt, joined with him, at long last.

He let out a long, shaking breath, and when she urged him, began to move.

Even in her more lust-filled dreams, it was never even this good. Her imagination had never been able to capture precisely the way he would moan in her ears, the shade of brown his eyes would take when lost in his pleasure. The way her body accommodated him as if they were made to fit like puzzle pieces.

And it was more than pleasure, obviously. The weight of him over her, even if he tried to keep from crushing her. The way her soul and his seemed to blend, like they were always meant to be.

He was there, right here, and still she was yearning for him, for more, aching with the intensity of it.

Long strokes, as if they had all the time in the world, only focused on each other.

“I love you,” she repeated against his lips. “Only you.”

“I love you too. Forever, if you’ll have me.”

“Yes.”

Slowly, pleasure built again, and the burning grew, until it was unbearable and she went over the edge, drawing him with her.

What was time, when she felt like this? Where nothing but her skin against his seemed real? His breath against her face, his heart beating in rhythm with hers, his scent the only thing she could smell?

They remained there, unmoving, basking in the glow of their love.

When her brain started to work again, beyond her tiny corner where their bodies and souls were entwined, she tightened her hold on him, willing him closer, pressing her deeper against the mattress.

He rested his head on her chest, entirely spent, sweaty and eyes still hazy with love. Gently, he turned on his side, and burrowed his face against her soft skin, hugging her tight.

Exhausted by both dancing and love making, sleep claimed them at last, as golden light was beginning to filter through the windows of her flat.

A new dawn, indeed.

[windfighter]

Could you write digimon frontier where someone finds/falls into one of Grumblemons burrows? Or just something about him. (He is very underrated)

I tried, but it turned out to be more about Fairymon ops x,x

Takes place after the end of Frontier, when the kids have gone home and the legendary warriors are the new guardians of the digital world:

---------

Winding Tunnels

The ground disappeared beneath Fairymon’s feet. She yelped, fell. Her wings beat behind her, kept her from crashing completely. She landed gently on a secret second ground, hidden below the first. Tilted her head and listened to the sounds of the area. Wind howled, swept through tight corridors. A tunnel. Several even, a whole system. Had a Drimogemon made it to her area? She put her hand to the wall, followed it deeper.

The tunnels went in all kinds of directions. She listened for the wind, let it guide her through them. Through very tight corridors where the wind whistled high notes for her, and through wider tunnels where it was but a whisper. She didn’t know how long she had walked, but her feet were starting to ache.

”What are you doing here?”

Fairymon tilted her head at the voice. Grottomon.

”I could ask you the same thing”, she answered.

The air was a lot more still in this place, the wind quieter. A cave. Fairymon’s wings beat, lifted her from the ground and she flew over to where she could sense Grottomon.

”I found your tunnel in my area”, she explained.

Didn’t land. Grottomon moved around, but didn’t look at her. She didn’t look at him either, but the movements in the air told her where he was. Unthreatening.

”The ground is my area”, he answered.

Simple as that. Fairymon didn’t agree.

”The mountains are your area, not the Soyokaze village and surrounding forest.”

She put her hands to her side.

”We split the world in ten areas to not step on each other’s toes after the incident”, she continued. ”We should all honor that arrangement until the Angels are back.”

”Don’t think I don’t know about you sneaking over to Ranamon”, Grottomon answered.

Fairymon’s cheeks felt hot. She crossed her arms over her chest.

”That’s… a different matter”, she said.

”Uhu.”

He knocked on one of the walls, shuffled around and knocked again, probably preparing for another tunnel. Fairymon sighed. She wasn’t angry and Grottomon obviously though she was.

”I just want to know why”, she said. ”And to know where the tunnels are so no other digimon get lost in here.”

”Are you lost?” Grottomon asked.

There was laughter in his voice. Fairymon clenched her hands, stretched her back to look more assertive.

”Of course not!”

She was so lost, but she could always follow the wind out. Grottomon laughed.

”Faster travel”, he said. ”Been over to The Dark Continent a bit lately.”

”Why are you…”

”Wolfmon and I had some things to discuss”, he said.

What exactly he didn’t say. Fairymon didn’t ask.

”I am not spying on you or whatever you’re implying”, Grottomon continued.

Moved to another area of the room. It was big, Fairymon couldn’t hear the wind reach the walls. It seemed to gather somewhere above her. Probably a vent or something. Maybe she could get out that way.

”My area’s not big enough”, he continued.

They had split the world in ten equal areas. One for each of the legendary warrior, since tensions had been high after the humans left. Fairymon was just about to point it out.

”All Dig-mons are in my area”, Grottomon continued. ”No tunnels allowed anywhere else and they need to dig. The Digmons, the Armadillomons, the Drimogemons. Me. We need to dig, it’s in our data. There’s almost no ground left to dig in here.”

He turned towards Fairymon. She made an attempt to turn towards him as well.

”Some tunnels flooded because the ground under the lake got too thin and now the lake’s gone”, he went on. ”Water’s gone, plants are wilting and everyone is starting to starve. I can’t reach Ranamon because she’s in the ocean.”

Fairymon landed on the ground.

”You should have said something.”

”I’m telling you now.”

He turned away again.

”We’re trying to fix it, but we still need more dirt. More space. Fresh water. Wolfmon’s been supplying some food while we sort it out. Only one of you who’ll speak to me.”

Fairymon laughed.

”Can’t imagine the dark continent is great for him.”

She didn’t know why Wolfmon had chosen that area, and why Löwemon had taken the Forest Terminal and Seraphimon’s castle. It wasn’t her place to speculate, but obviously he felt lonely if he reached out to Grottomon of all digimons. Fairymon walked after Grottomon, followed him for a bit as he knocked on the walls.

”We can help you”, she said after a few minutes. ”We could use a few digmons in my area. And I’m sure the others would also like to help.”

She smiled.

”It’s not a competition, we’re taking care of this world together.”

”Some of us more together than others”, he answered.

But there’s wasn’t malice in his voice, just teasing. Fairymon blushed again and looked away.

”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stopped, she heard him draw something on the wall.

”Anyway, I’ll talk with Ranamon”, she continued. ”And it’s probably time we all met up.”

”Because the last meeting went great.”

The last meeting… Fairymon shuddered. Agnimon and Chackmon had gotten into a fight, followed by Löwemon and Wolfmon refusing to talk to each other. Blitzmon and Mercuremon had done something and then half the building had exploded. Arbormon spent most of the meeting sleeping while Ranamon drew figures on the table. Fairymon had gotten into a fight with Agnimon the moment Chackmon stopped arguing and left. Calling it a disaster didn’t do it justice. Fairymon had no idea what Grottomon had been doing throughout it either.

”Well… We’ve grown a bit since then”, Fairymon said. Hoped. ”We were all still affected by the humans back then. Or the corruption. I’m sure this time it’ll be fine.”

The only one she had spoken to since then was Ranamon, but hope springs eternal. So, she really hoped they would do better this time. Grottomon grabbed something and went back to the wall.

”I can figure it out on my own”, he said. ”Don’t need you all stenching this place up.”

”I’ll send word about the meeting”, Fairymon answered.

Turned around, Now, where was the tunnel she had arrived through? Grottomon laughed.

”Tell me again how you aren’t lost.”

”I’m not lost”, she said.

The air rose to the ceiling. Fairymon’s wings beat behind her, lifted her from the ground.

”Ciao!”

She hoped the hole in the ceiling was big enough as she flew through it. The air guided her, let her know where the walls where so she could avoid them. She still scraped against it in a particular thight spot, but then she felt warmth against her face. Sunlight, a fresh breeze. She was above ground again. She turned, flew back towards the Soyokaze Village. Now she just needed to figure out where they could all meet up.

[lunacrescentmoon]

Ok I'm starting early- inspiration hits like a freight train at 1am! ;w; I need to sleep but I am writing instead with a headache-

One Small Dream belongs to the amazing @calcium-cat so go read the original and support the creator

Dream and Noot belong to Jokublog

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OneSmallDreamcember Prompt 1 - Dejavu

"Nighty?" Dreams voice was small. More quiet than normal.

"Yes Dream?" Nightmare replied, not looking at him but working on some paperwork...

".. why are you working again?.. I wanted to show you something!"

"Because, work is important. Now, what did you want to show me?.."

"I drew this for you!"

"Oh?.. heh... I see you included the entire gang this time... and... who's that?.." Nightmare gestured to a different figure with 2 triangles on its head along with... what he assumed was a tail of some kind.

"Oh, a girl I've seen in my dreams before!"

"Come again?"

"Yeah! She sometimes appears for just split seconds... I never get to speak with her...."

".. you're probably imagining things....."

"No, I'm not!"

The world began to fade around them. Dream jolted, being the only one to notice. Had the world always looked so... wispy?..

He felt himself falling, but... infinitely... like it wouldn't stop...

"Dream! Wake up! We got breakfast!" Cross' voice echoed through the hall.

Dream opened his eyes and blinked a few times, giving a small squeak of shock until he realised where he was... his bed.... the castle..... he wasn't falling in a white space....

Letting out a sigh of relief, he jumped out of the bed, running toward the door and opening it excitedly just as Cross reached it... Cross then proceeded to skid into the room and hit the plushie pile in the corner....

"Ow!" He yelped, sitting up a little and rubbing his head.

Where had Dream seen this exact thing?

"Crossy! Are you alright?!" Dream raced over, trying to help him up the best he could.

"I-I'm fine...... just........ a bit shaken......." Cross rubbed his head from pain, but otherwise looked ok.

"Well... you said we have breakfast... how long was I asleep?.."

"Longer than usual squirt..." Killer walked in, smirking at Cross and the now messy pile of plushies. "I see someone decided to play bowling ball...."

"No, shut your mouth..." Cross growled.

Dream walked out to the kitchen, about to get in the usual chair, but he froze... he had heard Killer and Cross say those exact words before.... while he was looking this direction thinking about breakfast.... but when?..

Breaking himself of the cycle, he raced to Nightmare's room. Immediately he went to Nightmare's chair, saying something so fast Nightmare didn't have a chance to process it.

"Dream! Slow down..... I'm here... what's going on?.." Night was hoping to get a better grasp on the situation...

"Well... I heard Kiki and Crossy discussing something... the exact thing I've heard before........ and..... it.... was when I was doing the exact same thing I had done before...." Dream explained as best as he could. Even he didn't understand this!

Nightmare blinked a few times..... what had his brother meant?

Then he got it.

"Oh... Oh, I get it now.... Dream.... you were having a Dejavu moment..."

"A day-sa-what?"

"Dejavu.... it's when... you dream something.... and the next day or days later.... it happens in reality........" Nightmare had to think a few times on why it happened, and he himself never found a book on it to catch up on latest discoveries... so he never knew why Dejavu existed....

"So I can see the future?!" Dream smiled excitedly, bright eyes shimmering in the fire light.

"... yes, Dream, but not at will... you can only see it sometimes....."

A figure in the shadows wearing a cloak smiled, thinking to herself "you will meet me one day.... Dreamscape...."

-----☆☆☆☆☆☆----------

And that is day 1! ;w; hope you excuse the different idea to what everyone is probably doing, I just wanted some wholesome brother explanations and the classic Killer and Cross having a discussion- XD

[l1qu1dsm00th]

KARS INFODUMP / RANT / RAMBLE

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

"Behold! The Ultimate life form!"

Kars is the leader of the Pillar Men, and also the creator of the Stone Masks.

The Stone Masks are Masks which if put on with blood splattered on it will turn people into fricking vampires.

His so to say "evil" plan is to evolve from his natural form to become immune to the sun's rays, and for this he needs to find the Red Stone of Aja to make his masks more powerful, to do this he tries to beat a lot of people and one of them is Joseph Joestar(obiviously the jojo of that time).

He is absolutely the smartest and strongest of all the Pillar Men. He created all the Stone Masks aaaand because of that, "artificial" vampires too so Kars is one of the more important characters in all the anime and manga!

Basically his invention, in the long run, caused all of the shit that happens in jjba lmao. It will affect the Brando, Joestar and Zeppeli families.

And to think a lot of people skip this season. Respectfully, go watch the fucking thing, this shit's important

He has *a lot* of abilities both in his Original form and his Ultimate form!

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

Original form

Near-Immortality. My boi Kars is immune to age and disease and has lived for approximately 102,000 years

Enhanced Senses Kars can see people thanks to the heat their body produces

Teleportation Kars was shown to be able to teleport during his meeting with Lisa Lisa and Joseph.

Body Manipulation Kars has the same body manipulation capabilities shared by his friends I guess? Their either that or smth along hose lines. When he became the Ultimate Being, Kars' shapeshifting abilities were enhanced and he had access to all the genetic codes of Earth's known life forms along with reactive evolution.

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

Ultimate Life form

Biology Manipulation As the Ultimate Life Form, Kars' body contains the DNA of everything to ever live on the Earth. He can manipulate his entire body to replicate the traits of any life-form

The ability to fly I guess? Cause when his arms transformed into a weird kind of bird wings, Kars can fly at approximately 240 km/h!! (I searched it up and that's acutally so fast what)

Reactive Evolution Kars can also alter his body to withstand extreme conditions... and turn his hands into squirrels I guess.

Superhuman Intelligence Kars is an extremely intelligent and cunning individual, even by the high standards of his species. He was the one who created the Stone Mask, studying the Pillar Men's brains to unlock untapped power. After he transformed into the Ultimate Life Form, his IQ is estimated to be 400. Much higher than that of even the most intelligent person

Superhuman Senses He is able to hear anything from whale calls to bat screams. His vision is akin to an astronomical telescope (can you imagine that? That's so cool tbh)

Superhuman Strength Kars possesses incredible strength, estimated to be almost 900 kg/cm2 (mmm I'm having feelings about this idk what that meant but yes)

Regeneration Kars can heal any wound in a very short time I'M FAST AS FUCK BOIIII

Immortality Kars is immortal, invincible and nearly indestructible it seems. He doesn't age and he can survive only having himself as a source for everything (he's even ecologic would you look at that/hj)

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

Personal rambling and praising of the subject

I LOVE HIM. No no no no no. Love is too weak of a word. I ADORE his character. He's just so perfect, every time i see him on screen I flap my hands so much because of how excited I am, I know he's a mass murderer, I know he doesn't care for humanity, I know he's a dick but he's also my comfort character.

Every time I see something about him I freak out. I feel so connected to him for some reason. He's such a self assorbed bustard but I love it tbh. If I could draw anatomy well i'd draw myself with him a lot more but I could draw him decently like once or twice so yea... wryyy...

There are no words able to describe his character as beautiful as I see him fr.

His hair is perfect, I adore it, like bitch you been in there for 100,000 years and you're hair is majestic points to you for sure. He's elegant, petty and arrogant and A LOT of other things that just make him Kars and they are all so spot on. He's so well written I could feel him through the manga if I wanted to.

His powers are great, just great. I'd let him experiment with them on me fr. Example... super strength? Crush please and thank you.

I love his eyes, they're so cool, aswell with his makeup ofc.

I'd let him treat me like a fricking puppy. Imma be real with y'all, if it's him I have no problem with that, where do I sign up. Tell me.

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

Photo & GIF dump!!

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

(NO BETA) EXCERPT FROM MY SHIGADABI FANTASY AU, UP ON THE CLIFF:

“... Kurogiri told me earlier that you slept through most of the passage to the cliff. Should I trust you found it a peaceful ride?”

Still encased in nighttime dimness, Touya tried to decipher the tone floating down at him from the head of the table. He couldn't see its owner past the glow of the candles, the darkness that rained down on them from the vaults in the high ceiling. To compensate his lack of visual confirmation, he sketched the man there with his mind, faithful to the memory of how his host, the Count up on the cliff, had looked under the morning sunlight.

Touya remembered it all too well, how they had sat there distracted with their food or the noises of their companions. The Count's hair would flow down and sparkle against the raw terrain of his skin, making it all the more hard to not stare at his eyes of red turmoils and secrecy. The Count was fresh snow on an open wound and Touya thought the color was more common the closer he was to the passage, but not by much. On his journey to the valley, he had met barely a few of human refugees with a similar red in his eyes. Yet the Count's matched his cape and its collar, lined in white fur —it matched his hair.

That thought would've made him frown if spoken aloud. After all, he cared nothing if the Count had had the coat over his shoulders made to match him, if his scars made his all the more raw, if his was the name he hasn't known yet. Curious but trivial things did not matter and they shouldn't. Touya was only interested in the sensation of his mind already wandering, getting uncoordinated. It was the same case as before, when any thought of the Count would lead him into slippery slopes and Touya, or anyone else on that matter, would soonly forget why they were thinking about him at all.

“...”

Once more, Touya looked up to face the Count's silence, allowing the company to chitchat as they pleased. The times they talked were enough to be counted with the fingers of a single hand and, rare as they were, they would startle Touya, raising his attention of the ones sitting or resting beside him. The Count had the soft-spoken cadence of a man home taught by the best tutors money could buy, but his words lacked any politeness or fondness and instead came enveloped in direct orders or demands, cryptical than most, that the habitants of the castle would follow to the letter. Touya did call him a petulant child in the past, if he recall the accident shortly after his arrival. It had been easier back then, to insult him, to blame the anger and frustration he felt on the man that demanded his sacrifice. Touya hadn't known him yet and he did not know him still, which left him with the only other option available: to know himself better, his place in that monster town, his role in that castle. He could only decipher his own heart to set apart any alien feeling, any influence, any invasion.

As for now, it was as if they were not there. Touya had disappear alongside the Count to the world.

He risked a glace at Toga and the gecko boy, each by his left, but they were busy reacting to some kind of joke Jin was telling. Mr. Atsuhiro, by his right side, was not even looking at the table or his dessert, too busy gesturing at their butler as if explaining his excitement about what they had had for dinner that night. No one reacted to the conversation he was having with the Count. No one even looked his way o tried to pressure him to answer, not even the butler confirmed what the Count had said. Could it be...

Could it be that the Count was reading his mind?

Touya made to grab his glass, emptying his mind so violently he felt a snap in the back of his head. However, as soon as he extended his left hand the room started spinning, the smiles of the pictures framed by the walls getting more loopsided by the minute, the food balancing left and right over the tablecloth, a waltz of dresses and coats and hats and spiders—

“Calm down.”

Touya tried to blink it away. There was a solid grip on his chest, tugging to get the nod on his lungs undone. He allowed the unknown pulse to had him as he concentrated on keeping his face clean of panic; not thinking, not allowing anyone else to know how altered he wasat the moment. It took him a lifetime, the type that is condensated in a minute, before the room settled and he was able to hear.

“ —ust like that. Good,” Touya blinked again and again towards the direction of the voice, one, two seats past Mr. Atsuhiro, noticing what he thought was a faint smile hovering on the air and a pair of watchful red eyes on him.

Touya heard it again, this time realizing the Count was not moving his lips, not even vacillating on his strange and curious expression:

“Did I spook you, Dabi?” when he only narrowed his eyes in response, he was allowed to appreciate how the Count huffed with amusement, looking down at his plate, “A-ah. Don't be angry. It's not my intention to read your mind, nor am I doing it at the moment.”

Confusion accumulated on his brow, driving him closer to the table as if he could figure out what the Count was talking about by sheer proximity. He was not talking, was he? Touya could see how he lifted a cup to drink of the wine, responding to whatever Spinner had asked him a second ago.

“I am projecting the words to your mind, that is. I asure you it's a one-way road. Unless...”

For the first time since his arrival, Touya saw the mouth of the Count tilt at the corners with what could only be mischief. It was hard to admit, even harder to explain, what the motion did to him and how it activated his competitive instinct. From his time training with his dad, Touya could recognize a challenge with eyes close, hands bind, deaf to any sound. It was in the air, in the gentle swept of the candlelight, the smooth inclination of the host shoulders until his elbows were resting fully on the table, hands intertwined ao he could rest his chin.

He reminded himself of the original question, the one that started this whole conversation. He had slept, sure, but it jad been due the strange magic that had surrounded him that evening. Memories of his family had seized him as their car climbed downhill, images of his childhood on the Himura state, of Sekoto Peak, of his siblings and cousins running in the distance as he chased butterflies in the hidden fields past the family greenhouse. He doesn't know when he transitioned from merely reminiscing to fully dreaming. The distant howls woke him near the butler's tavern, some hours past midnight, maybe.

When Touya glanced at the Count, he was almost bored, playing with the rim of his cup while gecko boy showed him something on his hand. It could have been a spider, but Touya didn't care. He had an hypothesis to prove, a host to impress, a dare to win.

He pictured himself opening his mouth, forming the syllables with his lips, tasted the sounds of every vowel and sent them crashing to his host pretty ears.

Touya thought, “unless I talk back?” and stared satisfied at the Count as his eyes left the gecko's hands to look at him, red so bright he thought the world had caught fire. The Count waited, moving his fingers against his cheeks as if telling Touya that now he had his attention. “I slept on the ride here influenced by your butler's dark magic, but you knew that. You asked him to use his magic and put me to slumber. Your question, it was not politeness nor politics.”

The Count lifted his cup, drinking the last of his wine as Touya organized his thoughts.

“You wanted me to talk to you this way.”

It was the longest conversation he had had with the man since he arrived at that wasteland. The fact dented Touya's pride. That he had allowed the Count to treat him like a prisoner for so long, that he had allowed the Count to ignore him, his existence, if not for his presence every morning during breakfast and more recently on dinners, where he would not address him at all and leave as soon as the meal was over. He did not ached for his company or validation. He didn't want him to treat him like the rest, with similar silence that always ended on a well though inquiry, maybe a few words of encouragement, disguised by his position as the count so they wouldn't sound very vulnerable. The Count had talked to him before, but always through others, or just a phrase, just a nod. He had sent him a trained dog to guide him through the town, so he wouldn't get lost. He had offered to took him back to his village, ordering a car to wait for him every evening by the gates of the castle. He had gave him the key of his room, accepted him as Dabi and only referred to him as that, despite knowing the truth. Had had Dabi's meals made specially for him as to not upset his stomach, gave him a room specially acclimated to accommodate his wronging sickness.

Everything he knew about the Count, he knew it for his actions and never his words. And it had been enough for him for an entire month now. He had found it comfortable enough to walk and talk and act among them without much fuss. Touya only demanded answers or respect when it was either about his mission to unlock the mystery behind the demon sickness that afflicted him or when it was about his freedom to roam around doing whatever the fuck he wanted. He didn't care about the games the Count wanted to play with the rest of them.

He almost missed the moment the Count stood up, the legs of his chair scratching so subtly the wood of the floor. It was their signal. The meal was officially over.

He thanked the gecko boy —Iguchi— for showing him the cards of a new game he was crafting and nodded once, a gesture meant to acknowledge everyone in the room in a brief goodbye, before he walked out the room and left behind only the trail of his coat disappearing around the corner.

Touya followed the rest, his dessert intact on the plate as they took the dishes to the kitchen to be magically cleaned by the staff. Jin invited them to play cards, an offer he denied without explanation and that Iguchi and Toga immediately latched to. Mr. Atsuhiro had only crossed his arms and let out a single sigh, deciding he could play piano to make them company or supervise the progression of the game, in case it got... Complicated.

Dabi sent them to the game room with a shake of shoulders. They could do as they wanted too.

He didn't want to know.

On the hallway up to his room, he stopped along the way once, in front of the window walls. The moon had partially came out, clouds rolling low over the forest and mixing with the fog. The air was chilling, cold kisses on his bandaged wounds. He extended his pointer finger to touch a pale ray of moonlight, admiring the absence of heat and the silver stiches that differentiate it so much from its daylight equivalent. Beneath it, the edges of his burns became a deep purple, his skin taking and unnatural blue glow. Back at home, they had told him several times that his eyes would get the more scary at night, when they would shine even brighter than the moon or any fireplace made by human hands. He would laugh and smile, big, big enough to show all his teeth, and the kids would run and call for help and their mothers would call him a monster, a zombie, a walking grave.

Then came that sensation to his chest and Touya squished it, set it aflame, reduced it to ashes. He stepped back and turned around, not stopping until the door of his room was locked and his body was resting on his bed, curtains close, his clothes changed and wounds freshly bandaged.

He had felt red eyes on him. That sensation. The tug, the weight, his finger touching the glass of the window. Touya didn't want to know. He didn't want to know if what he had said was right or if it was wrong, if the Count left becuase he left or if he left because of him. He didn't want to know if the others were having fun, sitting on the carpet, fingers touching one another as they laid their cards down.

The night had inflicted irreparable damage on him. He shouldn't had allowed the Count to talk to him like that, through his thoughts, direcly to his mind. Touya shouldn't had fallen so easily for the Count's twisted games, craving the excitement of a new discovery, a challenger to beat, a rival to show off to. Something had been taken and given in return that night. The full moon was whispering of trades and Touya sat by the fireplace, burning piece of paper after piece of paper, until his rage had subdued.

« you want me to talk to you like this. »

Touya threw an entire book to the fire.

He didn't want to know.

[hansoeii]

the honda odyssey, huh?

[whiteshipnightjar]

Zoozve, my beloved

[jonsaremembers]

I was looking for something to read on ao3 and got jumpscared by a dnpredacted tag, saw the username and I was like um... seems awfully familiar...

I am just here to help.

[1930sdarlin]

(Meme made by Me, @1930sdarlin )

[emberglowfox]

Keeper -- a short comic about an angel meeting a robotic lighthouse keeper that doesn't know the world has already ended. Made in about 18 hours for a 24-hour 24-page* black and white comic challenge (that I arrived late to, ha.)

*the actual submission does not include the cover, which was created after the fact for this post.

This was a really great learning experience as someone who's... never really made a completed comic. I ended up really attached to the story by the end of the project (possibly due to all-nighter deliriousness lol) and ultimately am very proud of what I made.There are some things I'd still like to change, particularly text placement, but in keeping with the spirit of the challenge I've elected to leave it as is.

[shigeoreum]

“… It flows out of you… it flows out of me too… and I can’t tell where you end… and where I begin”

lyrics from “A Given Thing” by Weyes Blood and drawing is inspired by Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss ^_^

[themadknightuniverse]

Loustat short comics - There is nothing else until the storm is over - Interview with the Vampire TV Series

text transcription under the cut ⬇️

Fake magazine illustration

Page 1 Daniel : So, tell me... Did you see Lestat again?

Page 2 Louis : When he's not on Tour, he would occasionally visits.

Page 3 Daniel : So you're what, now? Friends?

Louis : [Hello Lestat.]

Lestat : [Hello Louis.]

It would be too simple. You know us.

Louis : [ That's new. Still enjoying the glitz and glamor?]

But there is this arrangement we are both fine with.

Page 4 When two people hurt each other so deeply, what is left afterwards?

Page 5 Things like that, it seals doors once still unlocked at the time. Can time really heal everything?

[Mets moi dans mon cercueil, Louis, Louis...]

Page 6 [Stay down chéri, I don't want to fight like this. I'll stay. I'll stay, I'll never leave you ever again. I promise. I'll be happy. For you. For her. Please please please please]

Some things were flipped over to show the truth. Others, I learned to see differently. I faced my wrongs.

[I'll be anything please please please please please please. I didn't know it was a gift. I wore it like a curse. I was selfish. I wanted you to suffer. Because I was. Suffering. I came to thank you.]

Page 7 Do we love each other still? Yes. Can we live under the same roof, share the same spaces, the same bed, for an extended period of time, again? No. But this raging, all devouring passion, it is now replaced by something that can never be altered. Is this the price we had to pay to finally be equals?

Page 8 We have never been more understanding of each other. A shadow of something that could have been from the start. Friendly jokes. Bickering I will never admit enjoying. Respect. And then, the always surprising softness. So eerie after all that happened. Yet, we always welcome it.

Page 9 Daniel : [How dramatic. Not ready to live together again, yet he's all over your coffee table.]

Louis: [I didn't buy these.]

Daniel : [Sure. Will you let me know the next time he passes by?]

Louis : [Well I can't. This is his safe place. You will have to find him by yourself I'm afraid.]

Daniel : [Of course. He can't make anything easy. As if he didn't have enough safe places with his ten properties.]

Page 10 Louis: [Nice chat. Bye, Daniel.]

Lestat : [Only when I'm not on Tour, hm?]

Louis [Approximately.]

Lestat : [Thanks.]

Louis : [Did you really just say thank-]

Lestat: *kisses Louis* [...too soon?]

Page 11 Louis : Almost a century is enough waiting.

[squidthusiast]

“I could listen to your laugh all day”

[ash-and-starlight]

sooo so happie to launch into space the art i did for this @zukkabigbang2024 for the beautiful fic

The Mercy of Magpies

written by the wonderful showstopping @ranilla-bean and betaed by the equally iconic @faux-fires. Featuring dilves, birdies, true love, war, crazy plans, dubious plastic surgery and a galaxy far, far away. Please check out the rebloggable fic post with its special cover art here (or jump directly to the fic, I can't blame you, it is That Good)

also, some extra juicy plot relevant characters pop up in later chapters and havent been included for 👀 spoiler reasons 👀 but you can already try to guess who they are who's that pokemon style <3