#fluffy but also sad

[justachaoticgremlin]

Seven Apple Seeds Drabble

When Hades had first discovered Pais, the new godling who protected The Sacred Tree, he was shocked. Furious, even, that the gods would dare replace him. That is, until he realized he could use this to his advantage. And he did, telling the child stories of the world around, making him wonder what all there was to see. He knew from experience, it was a lonely job. A boring job. Of course Pais would be desperate for new things, new faces. For a while, Hades saw Pais as a tool. A means to an end. That is, until he thought about the fact that… technically, they would be considered brothers, by some standards. 

Hades did his best to ignore this. It didn’t matter how they were related, as long as he got what he wanted. As long as Hades got one of the golden apples, as long as his chains were broken, who cared what happened to the child? Though, Hades caught himself mentally referring to Pais as his little brother. That would not do. Yet, he could not seem to break the habit. This feeling only grew when he learned that the little god couldn’t read. It had been the one thing that had kept him sane when he was the guardian, his one solace, yet Pais was denied even that. This little godling was denied many things, he noticed. 

Hades’s first reaction was pity. He quickly reminded himself that his little brother replacement was but a tool to be used and manipulated, to achieve his goals and get what he wanted. Still, he found himself leaving the godling little gifts, and soon he was even considering teaching the child to read. He had… sympathy for the little one, as he knew just how empty and lonely and downright miserable it could be, sitting there all day. Of course, Pais got visitors much more often than he had, yet he could tell the young god was still lonely.

Hades wondered what would have happened if they’d grown up together. He wondered how it would have been if they’d been the guardians of The Tree at the same time. Would things have been better? Worse? Hades shook those thoughts from his mind. The past was the past, and this was now. His little brother was more rebellious than he’d been at that age. When he was Pais’s age, he was complacent. Content with his books and his endless amounts of time to read them. It seemed the other god’s attempts at keeping Pais from drifting had made him wish to wander even more. 

Over time, Hades developed a certain soft spot for his little brother. He understood Pais’s struggles, and he began to want to help the godling, not just for his own sake, but also for the child’s sake. His gifts, though ever enticing, were picked more for the young one. The curiosity they brought was just a bonus. He tried to keep himself from getting attached, but he had failed, miserably so. However, Pais seemed perhaps even more enticed by this. Not only was this mysterious figure telling him all sorts of stories, they were a friend. This was even more invaluable to the lonely guardian, who only had a few friends whose interactions didn’t feel forced. Hades’s newfound fondness for the child was… useful. The godling was more likely to listen to a friend. An ally. His brother. 

One cold, dark night, Pais was curled in the roots of The Tree. The wind was bitter, the sky a deep black. Rain fell, even here, in heaven, and the poor godling was soaked, with nothing but The Tree’s leaves to shelter him from the storm. He shivered, feeling forgotten by the other gods. The child wondered why no one had come, not even to keep him company through the bitter storm. Thunder raged and lightning flashed. Pais winced, the storm was big and bright and loud and he was small and cold and alone. He reminded himself that he was a god, that he should be fearless. He protected The Sacred Tree, he wasn’t afraid of a little storm! This confidence didn’t last long, though, and soon Pais was curled against the tree, shivering and shaking, from fear and cold. 

The little god tried to shield himself from the rain, tried to block out the sounds of thunder, but he couldn’t. Pais whimpered, wishing he wasn’t alone. Eventually, he managed to fall asleep, though his dreams were dark, filled with danger that he had to stop all on his own. He awoke with a start, soul pounding. It was all too much for the tired little god, and he began to sob, pulling himself into a little ball, going completely forgotten and unnoticed by the other gods. 

It was cold and he was soaked and everything was too loud and it was too dark but also too bright when the lightning flashed and he was so scared and why was he out here alone and- 

Tears flowed from the child’s eyes, though it was hard to tell with how the rain pelted him, relentless and unending. 

Hades was awoken that fateful night by some sort of instinct.

He had this feeling that something was wrong somehow. What, he didn’t know, but it felt important. Hades had a feeling he wasn’t going to be able to sleep if he didn’t solve it, a deep unease settling in his soul. The dark god felt restless, though he didn’t know why. It was incredibly frustrating, yet also worrying. What had happened that was so important? Something was very wrong, he was sure of it, but he couldn’t find the source of this awful feeling. Everything was normal in the underworld. His wraiths were fine. The only thing he could think of was Heaven. 

Had something happened? He didn’t care about most of the gods, but- 

It was Pais. It had to be. Something was wrong with his little brother. As he thought this, the feeling swelled, that instinctual feeling that something wasn’t right. What had happened? Using the shadows and the darkness caused by the storm, he looked upon his brother’s perch, curled against The Tree. He could tell, from here, the child was distressed and almost panicking. His brother was pretty much completely exposed to the storm, and the poor godling looked terrified, shaking and whimpering, eyes squeezed shut. Why had no one come to check on him? Why was Hades the only one to even notice? He knew he had to do something. This was for the dark god’s gain, of course. If Pais was exhausted in the morning, he’d be of no use, and that would be a waste.

It was rather obvious that the dark god was still in denial. 

Either way, Hades stopped watching for a moment. There was something in particular he needed to find. It took a bit of searching, but he found what he was looking for. He grabbed the faded purple and yellow cloth. It was an old blanket, soft with colors faded by time and use. It had been his once, one of very few comforts he had when he was the one curled against The Tree. What made this blanket especially important was what it could do. He had long forgotten which god had given it to him originally, but it could repel the rain. The fabric had gotten him through many a storm, and now it would belong to Pais. Hades hoped this would calm the child as well as the feeling of wrongness in his soul. 

The child in question was still shaking, still afraid, still soaked, still alone. Pais wished he wasn’t all by himself. Thunder boomed overhead, and the little godling sobbed again, flinching at the loud sound. Then, he spotted it. A new gift, a soft… something. He didn’t know what it was called. What he did know was that it looked warm. Shakily, the child stood, walking over to the object. He wrapped it around himself. As he did so, he noticed that it was protecting him from the rain. The blanket was the perfect size, big enough to cover him comfortably but not so big he would trip on it. He headed back to his spot by The Tree, sniffling softly as his tears subsided, grateful for the warmth and comfort the blanket provided.

Hades sighed in relief as Pais settled, falling asleep once more. The uncomfortable feeling in the dark god’s soul faded, and he found he was rather tired now that the restlessness had eased. He checked on his little brother one last time, resolving to eventually teach the little god how to read. He would get what he wanted in due time. For now, though, he could wait.

SAS belongs to @calcium-cat

[dapper-lil-arts]

Fanart of @punkitt-is-here's fursona! Thank you for putting big fluffy stuff on main 🙏

Also Idk what's wrong with me but when I saw this cute art Punkitt made the barbarian painting was the FIRST thing I thought of. lmao

[popfizzles]

Scientists and professors have begun documenting wild Eevee with little to no human socialization that are becoming reclusive, feral, harder to capture, and eventually growing to undocumented sizes.

It's a well known fact that Eevee's normally unpredictable and Volatile DNA stabilizes after evolving. However that seems untrue for Eeon, as it retains a largely diverse moveset, embracing its constantly changing genetic structure.

This instability and lack of human interaction makes Eeon threatening to stumble across in the wild, and caution is advised.

[secretly-a-trekkie]

what they deserved

[tekitothemagpie]

I know his fanboy ass was giggling and kicking his feet, knowing he touched the REAL All Might with his hands.

[nextimeiny]

[canisalbus]

So i remember an ask mentioning your mortal enemy, Felis Atra and their cats, and i thought it'd be fun to draw what Felis Atra's version of your italian dogs would be.

I think they would be called Butter Knife and Flamengo! Butter Knife is not his real name, it's an nickname given by his peers because of how harmless he is. I choose Flamengo because that's the name of Vasco's rival football team here in Brazil, so i thought that was the perfect name :)

Cat Machete was slightly inspired by the Oriental Shorthair cat because of their long noses and thin head shape.

Cat Vasco was inspired by the Scottish Fold cat, because FLOPPY EARS. I gave Flamengo longer ears and orange fur to make him more like his look-alike.

The last doodle is a reference to this ask (https://canisalbus.tumblr.com/post/728923918314946560/me-i-am-machete-ear-fan-number-1-those-ears) and contains the tumblr ask stand-in dog, whose cat version was inspired by the American Curl cat! They have round ears that are slightly floppy outwards.

Final notes: I know cardinal clothes don't come in vibrant blue, but i was ADAMANT on switching Machete's and Vasco's clothing color patterns. I would draw the rest of Butter Knife's and Flamengo's clothes, but i suck at designing cool outfits.

Speaking of outfits, for Machete's iconic void outfit, i figured it would be fun to make it more baggy for Butter Knife, in contrast to Machete's, that looks very tight-fitted. I think it's cute, it kinda looks like a sweater. Also i can't imagine a Machete doppelganger without high heels boots, so those HAD to stay.

Oh, and just to be clear, i'm not like, claiming ownership of these guys or anything. I just thought it would be a fun exercise. Hope you like them!! I love your art and your characters.

.

[thinwhitedoc]

SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson

[giggly-squiggily]

Time Wasn't In Our Favor (Demon Slayer)

We're just going for the angst this week huh- kjajkearjkeajkr

Heyo everyone! I wrote this a while back and did a small poll with everyone on which Obamitsu fic they wanted to see: the super fluffy one or this. The fluff won. All this time later I finally decided to share this with everyone! :D I hope you like it!

CW: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR DEMON SLAYER MANGA. Angst, Heavy angst barely any comfort, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past torture, mentions of past bullying, insecurity, blood and injury, death, food mention, almost confessions, just lots of pain and heartache y'all I cried writing this kjarjkekjarjek

Summary: Four times Obamitsu almost confessed, and the one time they finally did.

“Kanroji looks…uneasy.” Obanai mused out loud one day, watching the pink haired Hashira speak with the others. While she smiled and greeted everyone as per her welcome, there was clear discomfort on her face whenever she was alone. She was always clutching the ends of her uniform, tugging on it as if it would somehow get longer.

“I don’t blame her. That perv was the one who made the uniform.” Sanemi grumbled, referencing none other than Maeda- one of the many tailors in the Demon Corps. He was good at the craft, but notorious for his…revealing design choices. “I heard he tried to pull the same thing on Shinobu and her Tsugoku. She burned it before him.” The Wind Hashira snickered, clearly pleased with the thought. “Shame she didn’t get to him a third time.”

“He designed yours too, yes?” Obanai eyed the bare chested Hashira, his scars gleaming brightly against his skin. “I assumed he only did that for the woman.”

“Ay, eyes up here, buddy.” Sanemi snapped his fingers, focusing the other. “And yeah- I told him to make mine like this. Makes the whole bleeding thing easier.”

The ‘Bleeding thing’ was what Sanemi called his Marechi blood- a rare type that demons craved like an addiction. He often used said blood to kill his targets, luring them in with the smell and cutting their heads off clean. It left him with scars all over, but the white haired man didn’t seem bothered by it.

Obanai was about to remark on Sanemi’s other intentions regarding the choice of clothes when his eyes went back to Mitsuri. She was now talking to Shinobu, her stance relaxed once more. It must have been comforting, having another woman on the team to talk to. While he hasn’t seen any of the Hashria leer at Kanroji, he wouldn’t be surprised if those outside their group have, taking in her entire being like a piece of meat.

The thought alone made his stomach turn. He wanted to hunt them all down and gut them.

“Ayo, your bloodlust is showing.” Sanemi reached up and nudged his foot, bringing him back to reality.

“Says the man with the most bloodlust here.” Obanai retorted, earning a snort.

“I save it for demons.” A half truth. Sanemi followed his gaze, humming softly. “She’s a tough woman. You don’t have to worry about anyone being gross to her. She’d probably knock them out with those killer biceps.” He nodded approvingly, flinching when Obanai punched his shoulder. “Ouch, damn- what the hell?”

“Don’t be cruel.” He growled, feeling protective. He didn’t know much, but they seemed to be an insecurity for her- her arms. The way she tucked them in when in groups or kept her hand gestures close to her chest. It was like she was trying to shrink in on herself.

“I wasn’t....” Sanemi rolled his eyes before turning back to the girl in question. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I like her arms. I think they're great.” He nodded. “Don’t hit me again- I’m not trying to steal your girl.”

“She’s not my-”

“But she does look uncomfortable.” He carried on, furrowing his brows. “Especially with the skirt. Think she’d feel better if we force Maeda to make her a longer one?”

Obanai doubted it. Not only would it not be ready for a while, but the implication felt…wrong. Like he was telling her what to wear, or that he was only looking at her legs.

Legs…wait a moment…

“Don’t. It’ll make things worse. But I do have an idea.” Obanai mused, starting to perk up.

~~~

“Oh wow…Iguro-san, these are beautiful!” Mitsuri gushed as she held up the socks. They were knee high, light green with stripe detail down the legs. Thick enough for coverage but light enough so she won’t sweat. They matched the tips of her hair, she realized- a detail she hadn’t even thought of herself. “I love them!”

“I’m glad.” Obanai smiled behind his mask, fighting down the blush threatening to spread over his cheeks. He looked away politely as she pulled them on, Kaburamaru hissing in approval as she squealed with delight. “They’re on! How do I look?” She asked, striking a pose. Already she looked much more comfortable in her own skin.

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. Obanai almost said it as he took in her smiling face, the look of utter joy in her green eyes as she fluttered about- beyond pleased. It was like the sun was eclipsed until this moment- finally peeking out behind a mass of dark matter to shine down on them, enhancing the world around them. Obanai nearly forgot to breathe when she smiled at him like that.

“You look wonderful.” He got out, making her blush and shine more.

One day, he’d tell her.

One day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mm! Mm, mm mm! The smell is amazing!” Mitsuri was in heaven- her cheeks flushed with absolute joy as she breathed deeply. She had gotten back from a particularly long mission, and she was starving. The plan had been to go home and make something, but she ran into Obanai along the way. The first thing to greet him, much to her horror, was the growl in her stomach.

“Hungry?” He asked, voice teasing. Her face burned.

Now they were here- a small restaurant that Mitsuri knew well. The shop owner loved her- she tipped well and always made his day better. When she walked in, the old man greeted her with open arms and a bright laugh. “Welcome back, Miss Kanroji! Ah, I see you brought a date!”

“Oh, this is Iguro-san! He’s a fellow Hashira.” She reassured him, her cheeks bright red as the man and his wife came around to properly say hello. She dared a peek- Obanai looked rather flushed himself. Don’t let this get awkward, Mitsuri. “I’ll have my usual, though er…keep it to one serving.” She shifted, forcing a smile.

“Just one? But we made a whole pan-” The kind man began, cutting off when his wife pinched his arm. “Alright then- a serving of Curry rice for the lovely lady, and for you sir?”

“I’ll have the same thing.” He nodded, his voice quiet. The couple faded away as Mitsuri and Obanai took a seat, side by side along the table. She knew she should sit across from him but…”Sorry- is this weird? I’ll move.” She offered, starting to stand.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He patted her hand, keeping her there. He didn’t look uncomfortable- even if he seemed to stop breathing for a moment. Oh dear, did she take too much space? She wasn’t exactly slender. Was she crushing him?

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind-” She began again, only to stop when the restaurant owner came by, placing their bowls before them.

“Here we are! I added half an extra serving for you, Kanroji. I know how much you love our curry rice!” He winked playfully at her before heading back, ignorant to the way her soul dropped to her stomach.

“Kanroji? Are you okay?” Obanai asked, brows furrowing as he took in her pale face. “Is there something wrong?”

“No! No, not at all!” She squeaked, shaking her head as she gathered her chopsticks. “I’m fine! Totally fine! Let’s eat, shall we?”

If she were completely honest- she wasn’t fine. When she usually came here, she was either by herself or with Rengoku. The Flame Hashira ate as much as she did, so she never felt weird polishing off so many bowls of the delicious curry rice.

Awful as it sounds, being here with Obanai- it reminded her of her ex fiance.

“You’ll never find a man who will welcome your presence for the rest of your life.”

“You eat like a boar. What man would want you?”

“Your hair is hideous. And your arms? God- it’s like you're more monster than woman.”

All this time later, and those words still stung. She felt them clawing up her throat, choking her. Her eyes burned as the shame she felt coated her skin like oil, sticky and suffocating. She couldn’t let Obanai see her eat that way. It was bad enough he saw her hair. He saw her fight demons in a way that was without a doubt not fit for a lady.

If he saw her eat like a monster- like a demon…

“Kanroji, are you okay? You look like you're gonna be sick.” Obanai sounded so concerned. He looked at her bowl, taking a sniff. “Is there something wrong with the food? You haven’t touched it. Do you want me to get you something else?”

I want to disappear. She thought helplessly. I want to fade away. I want to be more what the world wants. I want to fit in, to blend in. To go unnoticed. I want to be forgotten.

“I…” She began, freezing when she saw the chopsticks before her, holding some of the rice.

��Erm…sorry if this is…eh…” Obanai seemed flustered as he offered the food, his cheeks red behind his mask. Still, he held her gaze. “I think…I think eating something might make you feel better. Sometimes we get stomach aches from not eating…at least, that happens to me.” He nodded at the rice. “Erm…this is kinda awkward, if you want me to put it down I’ll-”

Her lips closed around the chopsticks, the rich flavor melting on her tongue. It was a little embarrassing, being fed, but… “Thank you.” She smiled, taking the chopsticks from his hand. Taking a breath, she looked at her bowl. She wanted so badly to dive in and eat, but…

“Kanroji, please.” Obanai nodded. “You should eat. If you want, I’ll keep feeding you-”

“Oh no! I got this!” She tried to eat slowly, but before long she was devouring her bowl, lost in its flavor. When she finished, there wasn’t a grain left. “Mm…mh!”

Oh no. Oh god. She forgot. She forgot he was-

The untouched curry slid into her view, Obanai’s eyes kind. “If you’re hungry, eat. A Hashira needs their fuel, and you especially.” At her questioning gaze, he nodded. “Love breathing is a branch of Flame breathing. Those types of moves burn through calories like nothing. You need to restore your energy, so eat what you want.” He nodded. “Besides; I think the restaurant owner here would be pretty sad to let that pan go to waste.”

Her eyes grew misty, but not from hurt. She smiled wobbly, taking the bowl. “Thank you, Iguro-san.” She paused then, suddenly feeling bad. “But your food…”

“I already ate.” He dropped casually, making her stare. “Really. I had those snacks you left me. They were amazing.”

“You really liked them?” She asked, her heart starting to swell. As she turned to her bowl, she heard Obanai ask the old man to bring Mitsuri her usual order. “And some Sakura Mochi. They’re her favorite.” He nodded, making her heart race within her chest. He remembered.

~~~

“That was amazing!” She sighed, patting her belly as she and Obanai left. The restaurant owner and his wife saw them off, smiling at eachother knowingly. She had a feeling she was never gonna hear the end of it from them next time she came. “Thank you so much, Iguro-san. You really didn’t have to pay though! I know my order can get…expensive.” She almost cringed at the amount of bowls she tucked away.

“It’s no trouble at all. You were happy, and that’s what matters.” He nodded, not quite looking her way as he tugged on his mask. His ears were red now, something she found rather cute. “Please never feel the need to hide from us, Kanroji. We’d never judge you for how you live.”

The unspoken “I” was there. It made them both blush.

“Thank you, really. I…” She wanted to say more then. It had been a long time since someone made her heart race like this. Someone who looked at her only fondly as she ate, no judgment in sight as she finished off bowl after bowl. He never pointed it out, only kept the conversation going; talking about missions and life and friends.

He made her feel…normal.

She wanted to tell him that.

She wanted to tell him more.

“Hm? What is it?” Obanai asked, looking at her curiously.

No. Not yet. She swallowed her heart back to her chest.

“Nothing. Just…thank you again.” She smiled, tugging at her hair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Obanai was more careful than this.

As the Serpent Hashira, he was rather fast on his feet. He moved like his breathing style, slithering and evading demon attacks as he brought them down one after the other. At best, he walked away without a scratch.

Today, he wasn’t so lucky.

“Iguro-san! Oh no, you’re hurt!” Mitsuri was beside him before he hit the ground, the demon fading into ashes behind them as her hands steadied him. His entire body hurt, and his face felt wet. When he blinked, nothing fell from his eyes- it wasn’t tears.

Which meant it must have been blood. Lovely.

“It’s alright- are you okay?” He grunted, the smell of Sakura Mochi telling him she was rather close. Her hair was frizzy from the fight, and her eyes were wide with worry. She had a bruise along her chin, and her clothes were frayed at the sleeves.

Bruised and dirty, but she was alive. Good.

“Nevermind me, you’re bleeding!” Her hands reached out, hesitating momentarily before she took his chin, gently turning it to look at the cut. “It doesn’t look that bad- if Kocho-san was here, she’d know exactly how to handle it.”

“It’s alright- I can take care of it.” If anything- he’d prefer to. The cut ran past his mask, cutting it to the middle. In order to clean the wound, he’d need to remove said cover.

The cover that hid his scar and the painful memories it carried.

“You’re so strong, Iguro-san.” She smiled, cheeks pink as she wiped the blood away with a portion of her Haori. “That’s what makes you so great- you can handle just about anything.”

The words made his face heat up, and he was about to tell her not to use her Haori on him. “The blood will never come out!” He was about to say.

Only for the words to get caught in his throat when he felt his mask slip.

“Oh!” Mitsuri caught it before it could hit the dirty ground, the damage it took was more severe then they realized. “I’m so sorry- I must have worsened the damage! I’ll fix it up-” When her eyes came back to Obanai, he looked stricken, pale and shaky as he clamped a bloody hand over his mouth. “I-Iguro-san? What’s wrong? Are you about to be sick?”

He didn’t answer, his throat closed with fear and his mind racing a million miles a minute. No- no no no! This wasn’t supposed to happen! She can’t see it- she can’t!

His fingers pressed tightly against the scar tissue stretching past his lips, reminding him of that horrible day. The knife glinting in the candlelight. The pain stretching along his face. His tears as he begged and begged them to stop, to let him go, to kill him.

All for that horrid Serpent Demon. All to keep the stolen riches the demon provided.

He wished he could forget it. How he was almost given to that horrid beast, and the consequences that came when he escaped.

All of it, there on his scarred mouth. If Mitsuri saw it…she’d know what he was.

A coward. A monster.

“Iguro-san…” Mitsuri bit her lip, eyes wide with worry as she took in the shaking Hashira before her. Then her eyes grew clear. she grabbed her sword. 

Before Obanai could stop her, she sliced through a clean chunk of her Haori, the strip long and thick. Folding it, she brought it up and pressed it over the hand covering his mouth, her touch light.

“It’s not much, and it probably smells weird, but it’ll have to do for now.” Her eyes were so gentle, so kind as his hand fell away, his mouth once again secured. Her hands came around and tied his new makeshift mask into a secure knot, careful not to catch any of his hair in the process. “There we are! Feeling better?” She asked.

The mask smelled like sakura mochi and tea and home. Even with everything that happened, she never lost that scent. Tears burned his eyes and cut off his voice, making it impossible to speak. Instead, he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly in his own. He hoped she’d hear his silent thank you.

When she squeezed back, fierce and kind- she squeezed his heart as well.

~~~

Later- with his face newly cleaned and his clothes fixed, Obanai found a small parcel waiting for him. The note on top was written in curly strokes, a heart dotting her name.

Iguro-san, I fixed your mask! It was kinda dirty, so I cleaned it as well.

With love- Mitsuri

He held it close to his chest, his newly stitched and clean mask. It still smelled just like her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Master Ubuyashiki was gone.

He gave his life so he could end this Demon war once and for all.

Mitsuri wiped at her tears, running through courier after courier as she searched for the demon in sight. She would not let Master’s parting gift go to waste. She would make his dream come true!

Now if she could only find the freaking thing!

This particular one- an Upper moon she believed- was rather elusive. Anytime she got close enough to cut her head off clean, she’d strum her Biwa and the room would shift. One minute Mitsuri was above her, the next she was free falling into yet another part of the tower.

“THAT IS IT!” She raged as she stood, racing through more hallways. The changing made her head hurt, and she was sure if she saw another Biwa after this the instrument would only play sour notes. Still- she had to pursue!

Flying high, she raised her sword, the witch once again in sight. “I’ve gotcha now-”

And then there was a door.

Smacking her then and there, pain exploded across her body as Mitsuri flew off the edge. Her nose was bleeding- but she didn’t know if it was from pain or embarrassment.

Or both. Most likely both.

Falling backwards, she knew it was not gonna end well. Her body was already sore from crashing into various walls and floors. This time she suspected she wouldn’t make it.

Suddenly, arms were around her, and she was flying. Blinking, she barely registered her savior before they rolled onto a nearby column. “I-Iguro-san!” She gasped, staring up at him. Her heart did a hundred funny things then as she looked into those concerned mismatched eyes.

And then her face burned, shame bringing her back to reality. “I’m so sorry- I got ahead of myself.” She moaned as she covered her face. “Forgive me!”

“It’s quite alright, Kanroji.” He reassured her, helping her to her feet. “You’ve done well. Please be careful- we don’t know how this Upper Moon works or what her abilities are. She very well could have more than we expected. It’s better to analyze her now and look for any openings.”

“Right!” She nodded, the logic in his voice soothing away her nerves. “You be careful too, Iguro-san. This whole room shifting thing isn’t fun to deal with.” Her bruises screamed in agreement, making her wince.

Obanai nodded, a picture of preparation. “Very well. Let’s-” Suddenly the floor split, sending them in different directions. “IGURO!” She cried, barely breathing as he dodged the column. Obanai called out something to her, but before she could react, she was suddenly flying once more, this time towards the ceiling.

With a wall jump and a slash of her blade, she was safe- barely. She shook it off as she turned to glare at the Upper Moon. “You won’t be able to attack me with the same move twice!” She cried, going for an opening.

The room changes, a door opens. She’s falling again.

Well damn.

“GAHHHHH!” She raged as she fell. She was so mad she nearly forgot what Obanai called out to her.

“MITSURI LOOK OUT!” Was what he called.

Mitsuri.

Mitsuri.

He said her name.

The realization motivated her, pushing her to her feet. “He said my name…I have to live, so I can say his.” She nodded, running once more.

And then…

“Later.” She decided. “I’ll tell him it all later.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rain would have been appropriate in a situation like this.

Footsteps she knew like the back of her hand came towards her. Gentle hands pulled her up, resting her against a bloody chest. “Kanroji..I’m back.” Obanai’s voice was raspy. He didn’t have long left.

“Please…call me Mitsuri.” She breathed, the phantom pain of her missing arms nearly choking her. There was blood everywhere. She didn’t know who it belonged to. At this point, did it really matter? “Did we…did we do it? Is he dead?” She had to know. She needed to know.

“Yes. He’s gone.” Obanai breathed, blood dripping from the cuts where his eyes once were. She wanted to see them. To run her once there hands along his cheek, brushing away the blood that coated his face and just feel him.

Muzan took that away from her. She hoped he burned wherever he went.

“Good…hey, I can’t feel anything.” She laughed up blood, shaking her head. “I guess I’m dying.”

“I’m dying too.” The words cut, even if she knew it was true. “So you won’t be alone.”

“No…don’t die yet.” She breathed as her eyes filled with tears. “You can’t die yet.” Her voice grew sad then. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t much use in the fight.”

“No, don’t say that. It’s not true.” His voice was so gentle as his hand came up, running through her shredded locks. “Do you remember that day? The day we met?”

“Of course. I got lost in the mansion.” She giggled at the memory, it felt so far now. “You helped me then. Thank you.”

“It’s the other way around.” His voice grew soft as he reflected on all their moments together. The day they met- how she laughed like bells and smiled so warmly at him. How their time together made him feel like they were just normal people living their lives.

“You’ve saved so many people with your bottomless kindness. You should be proud, Mitsuri. Thank you. Thank you so much for letting me stand by your side.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she let out a sob, shaking her head. “I’m so- so happy Obanai. Thank you, for always making me feel loved. Meals tasted better with you. I just- I want to do it all again.” She looked up at him through the blurriness, and it was like she could see him for all that he was- human and the love of her life. “If we are to be reborn, please- make me your bride!”

“Of course. If you will have me.” He pulled her closer, his lips brushing hers as the last of her breath faded away. “This time…I’ll be sure to make you the happiest person alive. I won’t let you die next time…Mitsuri, my beloved.”

Thanks for reading!

[natasha-in-space]

So I'm replaying Ray's After ending rn, and it got me thinking that what I adore so much about Rika as an antagonist is just how damn scary she can be. I always found those who cause harm with good intentions (at least in their point of view) much scarier than those who hurt you with pure intention on hurting you. I think the best example of it is this CG in particular:

Look at that. Such a loving, gentle expression on her face. Probably kissing his forehead. Because she loves him. Heck, without any context, this CG looks even sweet, if you think about it. And yet, all that is while Saeyoung is forcefully sedated on a powerful concoction of drugs even a trained agent like him can't do anything about (and Saeyoung WAS definitely trained to deal with this sort of thing, hence it's mentioned that this is a 'special' kind of drugs). He looks miserable. Bags under his eyes, his expression pained and troubled, even his hair is paler than usual. All that as a direct result of her actions. But she's utterly blind to it. What's scarier, is that she knowingly shuts off her understanding of what's really happening. She's not oblivious to it at all. She just chooses not to see it that way. Simply because she doesn't want to.

Rika is the type of antagonist that will cup your cheek into her warm hand with the most loving of smiles on her face, all while you are getting elixir poured down your throat. Even whispering to you that you're doing great, that the pain will soon pass, and that she can't wait to see you reach the happiness she knows you deserve. I won't be surprised if she even cried genuine tears of compassion during some ceremonies for her believers. All while being the sole reason behind their suffering.

And that's... God, that's terrifying to me. I love that about her.

Rika Kim, they could never make me hate you

[funkbun]

i remember i made these designs for snorpy n floofty's parents like 2 years ago, the og post is somewhere on my main blog i dont fuckin know lol, but i felt like redesigning them slightly

[milkteamedley]

Sometimes, It Just Rains

Fandom: Genshin Impact Rating: G Pairing: Neuvillette x gender neutral reader Warnings: Vague mentions of death, dragon sadness

Neuvillette never told you about the rain.  But you knew, anyway.  It was an old legend in Fontaine that it rains when the Hydro dragon cries, and knowing his true identity, you had started making connections.

It rained when people died.  It rained on days there were trials sometimes, usually ones involving children as the victims.

But sometimes, it just rained, and you had no real answer for it.

No matter the case, you would go to your beloved’s office to find him at his desk, turned to face the window.  Sometimes there would be work on his desk, seemingly forgotten as Neuvillette contemplated his day.

On trial days you’d ask him to vent his frustrations.  On the days someone had died, you’d ask how Neuvillette knew them and listen to happy stories.

The days where it seemed as if nothing had happened were the worst.  Because you knew he was thinking of something you didn’t know about. Something that had happened years ago, years before you even existed, that you may not be able to fathom.

On days like this, you’d just approach him and hug him.  Eventually, the rain would cease, and he would ask if you’d like a cup of coffee.

It wasn’t a permanent solution. Untangling the emotions under the composed facade of Chief Justice Neuvillette would be complicated.  But that was okay.  You had the time.

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

Like my work? I'd love if you'd drop me a tip on Ko-Fi!

[theswedishpajas]

Lil doodles from last night

[shhhsoftnwet]

Elevator Gossip Series: pt3

Minor Misunderstandings

[mechawolfie]

had a sudden thought like ok what if I made a laikas comet oc and he was a dhole.. so I did that 👍🏾 his name is tucker

edit: ok I gave him colors

[threadmonster]

Concept:

It's May 4th and Shinra has been talking about his plans to marathon Star Wars with Celty. He isn't particularly interested in the series but Celty is intrigued by aliens and all. Izaya is annoyed. Of course Shinra, as usual, only cares about Celty. It still makes him feel gloomy though, it's not like Shinra ever forgot his birthday before.

He gets even more annoyed when Shinra calls him for a favor. Why should he care if Shinra forgot a few things at the store? But it's fine, whatever, it's not like he has anything better to do. Even his own sisters didn't bother to send him his birthday death threat.

Shinra told him to let himself in. He doesn't know why all the lights are off. He huffs and turns them on all just to be bombarded by a chaotic mess of "Happy Birthday" wishes and a camera flash in his face.

He doesn't know what to say or how to react. He sees Shinra, Celty, his sisters, Kyohei and the van gang, Simon was there. He wants to get mad, how dare he be fooled like this. In truth, he doesn't even know how to feel about it.

You see, his self-worth is so low that he can't understand, people do care about him.