#sleeping properly? also a moss thing

[keeps-ache]

Have you become the moss yet?

not yet man!! maybe tomorrow though, tomorrow has moss potential

[moonlightsolo]

could you do neteyam and a human reader where he compares the difference between the two of you <3

YES SO CUTE. thank you for requesting this i’ve been aching to write some fluffy stuff!!! hope you don't mind i wrote it in like a hc format

neteyam looooooves how small you are.

actually the boy is quite obsessed with it.

na’vi girls are tough, and rigid compared to humans

you’re soft and squishy and so tiny compared to him

he loves how you barely reach his elbow

so obviously the top of your head is his designated arm rest

he always compares hand sizes

mostly bc his hand quite literally DWARFS yours

he'll hold your hand and yours will disappear into his palm

he also loves how easy it is to carry you around

whether you’re on his back, or in his arms

and when you can't keep up with him in the forest

or if you're taking too long to climb over rocks or logs

he will sweep you off your feet and carry you around instead

he looooves cuddling with you

you can quite literally use his body as a mattress

or just tuck into his side perfectly

the boy adores you so much

and he is obsessed with kissing you

he can't get enough of you

his head is larger than yours but that doesn’t stop him from anything

your lips are so tiny and soft and cute

he’s kinda obsessed with your height but he enjoys to tease you about it

he holds things up high out of your reach

"neteyam! stop it! give. it. back!" you whine in annoyance, reaching up for your research sample that he has grasped in his hand. he laughs at how you hop to attempt to reach it, "i like this stuff. i think i might keep it actually.." he takes a few steps away from you as he watches the glowing liquid thrash in the glass beaker. your hands tug at his tail to stop him from walking away from you, "neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan! give me it now or i'm going to tell your mother!" the sound of his full name leaving your lips makes a visceral shiver run down his spine, but he gives in and surrenders your silly little glass back to you.

neteyam just wants to watch you jump and beg him for it honestly

he's a sicko but in a good way

he is also prone to throw you over his shoulder and manhandle you (sometimes)

whenever he gets the chance he engulfs you

like bends over and consumes your body with his just to hear you squeal

it’s amusing to him

he likes how you have to angle your head all the way back to look up at him when he straightens his back

kinda spicy, but he loves how his hands look on your ass

#neteyamisanassman

his palms knead at your butt but his fingers are halfway down to your knees

like he can't get over how tiny you are!

he also likes to watch you eat pandoran fruit & how small it looks in your hands compared to his

sometimes he stares too much which makes you a bit flustered

he enjoys how different your expressions are compared to his people

he can’t read you as well since you don’t have a tail or a pair of pointed ears

he always visits your quarters back in the scientists shack

because its the only place he can properly kiss you (make out with you)

since you need an oxygen mask whenever you go outside

seeing the boy on your human sized bed is humorous

he is so lanky and overall way too big for your bed

but he insists he is comfortable and sleeps beside you the whole night

his legs all tucked up around you and his feet hang off the end

and his braids tickle your nose whenever he moves

he likes to play with your hair

he is actually very skilled at braiding

he adorns your hair and braids with beads and random trinkets he finds in the forest

your hair is so soft compared to na’vi’s he just can’t stop

he even made you a necklace when he was trying to court you the na'vi way

he forced kiri to offer to braid your hair so she could secretly get the size of your neck for him

it was odd for kiri to offer to braid your hair when neteyam always does it for you, but of course, you agree to it. the na'vi girl sits you down on a bed of moss while she stands on her knees behind you. she busies herself with braiding two strands in the front of your hair and pinning them back behind your ears, "so what made you want to braid my hair?' you question as you twiddle with your fingers out of boredom, "just cause." kiri simply replies, but the tone of her voice alludes to something else. the gears in your mind go into overdrive, trying to think of why neteyam would put her up to this. then something soft wraps around your neck, kind of tightly. the feeling startles you, making you turn around to see kiri with a blade of grass formed into a circle the size of your neck. "what was that for?" you ask with a laugh. "nothing!" she shoves the circle behind her back, "turn back around! i'm not finished!" she hisses at you.

a few weeks after the weird fiasco with kiri choking you with a leaf, someone knocks on the door to your bedroom. you expect it to be norm asking if you want food, but it's neteyam. "oh hey!" you chirp happily and step to the side to let him in. he ducks under your doorway, and as he passes you he pecks the top of your head. "hi, my love." he moves to sit down on your bed, that creaks under the pressure of his large body. you can't help but notice a bag that crosses over his chest and rests on his hip, "are we going somewhere? is that why you have that?" you ask and motion towards the bag.

"no, no. i actually have something for you." he clears his throat, and turns his attention to rummage through the sack. you watch how the boy gulps nervously, and tucks an unruly braid behind his ear. his lips are pursed together in concentration, before he pulls something out. it's a necklace. a beautifully weaved one with three shiny blue stones as the centerpiece. "for me?" your face lights up when he nods at you. "i made it for you."

it fit you perfectly btw and you never ever take it off

he loves when you sleepover

he sleeps in a hammock so you can either curl yourself into his side or lay on top of him

neteyam thinks his only purpose is to protect you from the harsh environment of pandora

he knows your vulnerable from your size so he likes to keep an eye on you

especially when you’re researching things in the forest

you'll be with norm's avatar and max but...

he will silently lurk above in the trees

like a little stalker

just waiting for any predator to dare to attack his yawntutsyìp

(little loved one)

he dedicates himself to you completely

and after you two finally make your relationship official

he brings you to visit the tree of souls

as you approach the spiritual tree, the atokirina', the wisps or seeds of the tree, surround your tiny human body

indicating that the forest has accepted you

neteyam almost cries from pure joy

he practically treats you as if you're eywa herself

his deity, his goddess...

it saddens him that he cannot make tsaheylu with you

but he knows that you see him and he sees you

he just loves you so much honestly

everything about your cute lil sky demon self

[rendoa-blog]

Ghosts of the past!

Pssst, you can ignore this, but I wanna share it with you guys because I think you might enjoy it @ancha-aus @spotaus

Also, @mortallydarkbird , get your ass in here. You're reading this whether you like it or not.

"Nightmare, King of Negativity, Rulers of Emotion (mind the plural), is a prominent figure in the multiverse. He and his group are not... feared? They are respected and work under... a merciful deity. Huh. That seems... wrong, somehow. Ink truly does not understand why it feels that way. With the information he has been provided with, nothing about this looks off. So... what is making it feel like this???"

OR

I, Myeba, share the great ideas of my mind! So! Because I don't know how to word this properly other than BadSans(+Dream)-centric! Let's just go and list some facts about this!

So, what's wrong here?

Dream! Dream is what's wrong here!

This Nightmare is haunted by the undead spirit of his petrified twin!

Dream never got out of stone, his petrified body, overgrown with moss and greenery in some spots, stays in Nightmares private garden with their dead mother. (The castle is built atop the apple hill in Dreamtale, the destroyed, deserted village of their youth rebuilt and repopulated under their rule.)

Nightmares garden isn't the only area of the castle blocked off to everyone else. Every single room with a window that has a view into it is also forbidden, together with their connecting corridors. Dream stays there during the day.

Dream is, and will stay, a child. He lacks a physical form he can use due to being petrified, and because of it, Nightmare is forced to be a voice for both of them. That is also the reason for the title of Rulers of Emotion being plural, even if there is no one, but these two, who knows why it's like that. Dream is still the one who decides on things regarding positivity as he stays by Nightmare during any meeting that could require his presence.

When Nightmare goes to sleep, his spirit leaves his body while it rests. This spirit is also 6 years old and lacks half his skull. Nightmare did grow up naturally, though, even if he still looks like a child as a spirit due to unfortunate circumstances (cough basically death). Nightmare and Dream walk around the castle and cause slight shenanigans during this. They're mostly Dreams fault.

Dust can see ghosts and spirits occasionally, but they have not figured out how it happens. He has seen Dream and Nightmare running around the castle during his first few weeks when Nightmare didn't know about that. Dust is aware that something there is haunted and he thinks it's the castle itself, since he's never seen the spirits outside. He stopped seeing Nightmare entirely (because Nightmare is avoiding him), but still catches glints of Dream every once in a while when Nightmare isn't with him.

Killer and Horror know about the children as well because Dust has told them about them. They also know that Nightmare knows something, but they have been unsuccessful in getting the answers.

Cross is also there, but he's been in the group for far shorter so he doesn't know about Dream yet.

...They call the kids Yellow and Purple because they have no other way of addressing them. Dust has tried to communicate multiple times but Dream runs away every time due to being noticed.

Dream wants to befriend the group and spend time with them, especially when Dust shows up and actually sees him. Nightmare doesn't trust them enough for that.

The group has something akin to familial bonds, but Nightmare strictly excludes himself from it. He tries to be cold and distant. They know its a mask though. ...not Cross though. Cross doesn't and fully believes it because of past experiences.

Ink and Error are just 2 toddlers fighting over who gets to play with the pretty glittery pony, except the pony is attention and it usually ends with casualties. That is literally all I have about them.

Swap never left home! He's happily in his AU and while yeees he does know who Ink is and what the AUs are because the squid crash landed in his timeline one time (...or multiple times...many, many times.) he is not involved in anything concerning the multiverse.

Nightmare just collects unfortunate souls that remind him a bit too much of himself, victims of circumstance that didn't get a different choice if they wanted to survive.

The castle itself has many floral and nature inspired patterns in the stone. It is also heavily covered by plants anywhere that aren't accessible to those who don't live there, with some exceptions where it would make the room useless. Many corridors have vine ceilings or plants on the wall, but the kitchen, for example, only has a few controlled herbs in specific spots on and in the walls. The flora also doesn't even try to reach into private areas such as their bedrooms unless specifically encouraged to do so. (ex. Nightmares room) The group mostly doesn't want the plants there, though.

The entire group was pretty surprised when they moved in, because this was not what they expected, especially Cross who was very used to the formal and perfect visual that the part of the castle accessible to guests showed.

[mantisgodsart]

[Tonight I dreamed of teeth and claws and what felt like a million grasping hands chasing me through an endless field. The air smelled of sulphur and acid, and I could tell something was watching me, far beneath the moss and earth.

I woke to find I had been shedding wing scales in my sleep, and that apparently one of my primary containment chambers was registering a foreign presence within it. The only thing there when I checked, however, was Mal, who is supposed to be there - and certainly not supposed to be registering as an intruder.

I hope I don't have to update containment over this. Rescribing every little knot in the weave every time I need to strengthen or add to it gets tiring, when you have to do it multiple times a month. Maybe I should start looking for an apprentice again, if only so I don't have to maintain the entire laboratory myself.

There's an old joke about this sort of thing, charmsmiths only getting an apprentice when they need to make sure someone's take down notes about the experiment that kills them. I'd like to think it's more simply making sure that my knowledge doesn't die with me...]

One of the two left over from @bug-oc Round 1, Mal from @sushiikando gets a post all to their own, just like a Round 2 contestant! This is both because zey're a big/complicated design and because we... really aren't gonna be done Pola any time soon. Which is probably what we get for making a comic, even a short comic, while in the time of summer where we actively struggle to think. Oh, well. We'll get it done eventually.

More details under cut, as usual - despite our enthusiasm for walls of text, we don't particularly want to completely obliterate your dashboard. We're getting kicked in the dick by fatigue right now, so further ones might take a bit - we've got Maria sketched out, and Pola's comic only really needs painting and accompanying story, so all fates willing, it shouldn't be too too much of a holdup. There's an abundance of things that we would LOVE to be doing right now, but heat does awful things to our brain, we're still feeling off from being sick, and with tourism season in swing to boot even with our current medication it's an uphill battle to get ourself to do anything at the moment. Hopefully, this clears up soon. For now, we're still very much alive.

First things first - wow, this one took a few drafts. Although not really an originally anticipated difficulty, the lack of reference of just what Mal looks like under that coat made a lot of our original ideas fall a bit flat unless we wanted to make something up from whole cloth. Marigold's transmutations don't include clothes by default, since actively incorporating inanimate objects into an animate body is both difficult and much, much fussier than usual when you're using Marigold's particular methods.

We tried a few initial designs that stopped at that point, then tried at incorporating the coat into the design more properly a la the more "abstract" brews, but after a few fell flat, we sort of... just started throwing spaghetti at the wall, so to speak, and spaghetti stuck. The body patterns here are, for the most part, entirely made up. Maybe the patterns distorted, maybe they didn't - we don't know what's under the coat and we will likely never learn. It's probably fine.

Our primary inspiration here is eastern dragons, particularly the mythos of the koi who climbed the waterfall - the colors and patterns of Mal's design reminded us of koi patterns on first glance, and after a few drafts, we started running with the concept, using both Mal's wings and the shape of the lab coat for "fins". Runaway To The Stars's Bug Ferrets also provided some inspiration (particularly in the face - if you click the link, those mandibles might start looking very familiar).

We also took some amount of inspiration from theveryworstthing's REMwolf series, particularly Laika and The Morriss Dragon, though a lot of the particularly body-horror-y and sillhouette-breaking effects we might have wanted to include in a more detailed piece got nixed by a lack of time. We cannot take the duration of the entire tournament to draw one Round 1 contestant, unfortunately. Even if we wish we could've gotten a bit more detailed, and we very much would've liked to tinker with working in some design elements akin to Sea Legs or Guard Dog or Biology Lab, we're very nearly a full month overdue by now. We have other contestants to paint, and so we must move on.

...fuck, this took a while. Thank you for being patient with us while our brain's scaffolding falls to pieces! We dearly appreciate it. Hope you have an excellent summer!

[raindropren]

I think i should make a hermitcraft camp au

AS A PERSON WHO HAS NEVER BEEN TO A CAMP, IT WILL BE INFLUENCED BY MY BUNK'D OBSESSION WHEN I WAS like 9, CAMP CAMP, AND MY OWN INSANITY ALONE!

Everyone will be like 14-17 and it will be VERY Found Family!!!! U can take the hermits being family to eachother from my COLD DEAD HANDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Xisuma is the Volunteer camp counselor, His parents said it'd be good to be out in nature and would be good for him!! Real Life Experience!! and they dragged him into the role. He did not want to deal with kids(elementary schoolers can be mean...) but he was pleasantly surprised to find people more his age(That being 15 at the time) He took to it well but he is slowly going insane, do not mistake that.

The camp itself is just, alittle illegal, like a camp counselor started at 15 and i don't think he should of been without adult supervision but whatever!

by the second year of camp most of the hermits had already joined the camp! I have few ideas but here's some

Joe actually did want to go to the camp! He wanted to be a camp counselor but didn't really get the opportunity to sign up so now he helps out Xisuma whenever he can! A quarter threw the first year He dragged Cleo out of the new arrivals bus and introduced her to their little friend group! Cleo really didn't wanna be there but she also really didn't like going through the summer without Joe, so now she's here. in the wilderness :]

Did i mention that the camp is a summer camp, cause!!!

S U M M E R!!

ya.

Bdubs was super enthusiastic about the nature part, he wanted to look at cool moss!!!!(me too, me too) and then forgot about the activities part of camp and for a solid month Etho had to drag him out of bed just to do something other then sleep. They'd find him sleeping in trees. I think he'd be an amazing tree climber. He'd only wake up for the forest related activities and has skipped every single swimming activity since he got there. surprisingly it's a 50/50 on if he shows up to a craft activity. one time they had a special animal-care activity and when Etho mentioned the horses the people had brought ONCE and bdubs jumped up and sprinted to them. He did not leave those horses side until they left and after that they got a stable in the camp and bdubs and etho take cake of the horses everyday together! I like them :)

He and Etho share a bunk!!!! They're in the same cabin and after the horse thing they made a little shrine and their other cabin mates... are scared.

Mumbo joined at the same time as Cleo(On the same arrival bus and everything) and was very much the youngest(like just turned 14? maybe) He was the bbabbbyyy... and also exploded something on his first day! :D

Tango, Impulse, and Zed disappeared one night and came back the next day properly unhinged and wouldn't tell a single soul what they'd been up to but after that they're seen together more then not Lol

And the next year they came back speaking of Impulses friend Skizz who they were trying to convince the parents of to send them to camp aswell! It did not work until the 3rd year! Jump for joy, they did!

Grian joined, not wanting to be there at all, having a terrible time and then well

He caused Chaos, left for a week, then came back worse and decided he'd rather be there, super concerning to the others but he didn't speak a peep about it and then went back to causing(now slightly less destructive) chaos! He and Mumbo become extremely good friends, they bribed mumbo's bunk-mate to switch cabins with grian and now they're bunk-mates! it caused confusion for a week and then became the new normal! lol. I think he'd have a digital camera and he'd take pictures of the others, but also birds, so many birds. he'd rush to take a picture everytime he saw a duck, which was everyday, because the camp was RIGHT NEXT TO A RIVER!!! ya.

He would take care of the very few chicken's, and he got the others to help make the coop better because parts of it were rusting and breaking and he was scared that the chickens were gonna get hurt.

I think he'd be a only new arrival for the rest of that summer(so like he arrived like, 2 months into the second summer? how long is summer again? IDK) With hermits that join in season 5 probably arriving during the first month of summer? lets say? ya.

The 3rd summer had two new arrivals which was Pearl and Gem!! They arrived on the same bus and definitely had known eachother beforehand(aka Pearl went "I'm going to this camp next summer, u should come too :3" and Gem said "well okay i guess")

I think Grian and Pearl are siblings(you couldn't take that headcanon away if u tried LOL) and Pearl arriving was wweeirdddd cause grian had missed them arriving and then everytime he saw pearl he did a double take like 'did, did I just see who i thought I saw??????'

aka Grian did NOT know their Parents were sending Pearl to this Camp aswell teehe

I think Joel would arrive and be tackled by Grian, they knooww eachootherr aswell!!! yiippeee, I also think Joel and Etho should know eachother aswell, like they'd been to the same school and stuff lol.

Skizz Arrives and Impulse promptly gives him the biggest hug because He missed his best friend!!!!!!! it's been months!!!! they're dramatic about it.

I really have no other idea's, i wish i did!!!!

either way!! i think they have a camp group chat that is constantly getting chattered in even when it isn't summer lolsie

this was for fun, maybe i'll write more info i've thought about for this au, down again at some point, but ya!!! Fun!!! Yiippeee

[nehswritesstuffs]

polite

This thing needs to get out in the world please go and be free my problematic LawSan be freeeeeee~

4723 words; this is the first fic I had begun writing where the Straw Hats refer to Law as Traffy so you can see me working through that a little bit; remember kids: inhaling smoke/vapor microparticles is bad to do in real life because it fucks you up real bad but these are blorbos from the comic/cartoon they don’t live by the rules of reality; I’ve been looking over this thing for a while so if there’s anything that slipped please forgive me my eyes go cross at these words at this point

polite; Sanji cooks dinner and Law wants to thank him, properly. [modern AU; contains naughty times]

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

There was no question that Law’s life was more eventful now that he was socially entangled with the Straw Hats. Unfortunately, he had enjoyed how his life was before: he had literally three close friends, a little over a dozen close acquaintances, and his dog. Everything was contained, he could trust everyone, and he would go home to his apartment to find the fuzzy ball with nothing in its brain other than lint ready to be adorable. There had been literally nothing missing from his life—nothing that he felt he wanted out of the world from what it could give anyhow—and things were likely better that way.

Except now, when he came home, there were often unauthorized people there, let in only Nika-knew-how. Why the Straw Hat Gang (which was, unfortunately, not the weirdest collection of people he knew with such a descriptor) thought they had full use of his apartment, he did not know, but it was getting fucking ridiculous as he would come home to multiple people with fewer braincells than his dog wandering about the place. Tonight was no different as he came in to find Onigiri bouncing around merrily on the carpet while Zoro was sleeping on his couch, Nami was watching his TV, and Sanji was using his kitchen to feed Luffy and Usopp.

“Give me five good reasons why I shouldn’t call the police,” Law droned, his voice clearly bored. “One for each of you, come on.”

“Don’t be so stingy, Traffy,” Nami said. “We’re not breaking anything.”

“Yeah,” Usopp added, mouth full of food. “Also, Onigiri’s fine, we don’t even have anyone looking for us, and Franky’s not trying to improve your alarm clock.”

“Oh, and ACAB,” Luffy nodded. Law pinched the bridge of his nose—he did not need this after eighteen hours in the trauma center. “You know we’re right.”

“I’m not in the mood; get out,” he demanded. “Some of us have jobs to recover from, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘cause you’re ‘an adult’ and ‘a functioning member of society’,” Usopp groaned. He and Luffy went to grab Zoro, dragging the half-awake moss-head out of the apartment with Nami not far behind. Sanji went to leave as well, only for Law to grab him by the upper arm.

“Not you—you’re helping me clean up after you take whatever you left in the oven out.”

“Want me gone, want me here; make up your fucking mind,” Sanji scoffed. “Oh, Nami-swan! I’ll be around later! Have to make sure Traffy’s kitchen isn’t mildly sloppy.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Nami said as she closed the apartment door. Onigiri whimpered as he put his paws up on the door, wanting the other people to come back. Four seconds of that and he was frolicking around the apartment again, seemingly forgotten the others.

“What do you have in the oven?” Law wondered. Sanji shrugged and went back into the kitchen, with Law sitting down at the island bar.

“I didn’t have a lot to work with, and Nami wasn’t hungry, so I had slipped into a store on the way here and picked up stuff to make a casserole,” Sanji replied. He chuckled as Law raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a casserole.”

“Not in a long time,” Law admitted. He watched as Sanji took the casserole out of the oven; the glass dish showed the noodles and sauce, as well as some unidentified vegetables and meat. The top was coated in golden-brown breadcrumbs and it smelled nostalgic. “Doesn’t look like your normal dishes.”

“Bunch of heavy carbs; fills Luffy up fairly well,” the blond shrugged. He pulled out a serving spoon and a pair of plates, scooping out two servings and passing one to Law. “A lot can be said about what some consider ‘peasant food’, you know?”

“No shit.” Law took the fork that Sanji offered and muttered thanks under his breath before shoving a forkful of the casserole in his mouth. Was it the best food for him to eat? Probably not by a longshot, but a warm, comforting feeling crept through him as he ate, allowing his shoulders to relax and the throbbing in his head to fade. A few bites and he stopped, staring at Sanji with a sense of realization. “You made this for me, didn’t you?”

“I knew you were late from work, so I figured it might be the first meal you’ve had all day. Correct?”

“I… uh… yeah… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it; my job is literally to make sure people are fed. I’d be a pretty shitty cook if I did otherwise.”

Law grunted through his casserole and nodded. Part of him went back to watching his parents make the dish, his foster adult, and eventually his friends and him figuring out the recipe for themselves. Canned condensed soup was involved, a move that he had thought was certain would horrify the Straw Hat chef, but it seemed to not bother him at all. He took his own plate and sat next to Law, using a fork and knife to gather the noodly concoction and eat.

“What…?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something, asshole. Why the fuck are you staring?”

“You have table manners—the rest of them don’t.”

“Nami-swan and Robin-chan can make finger-foods look delicate, but you’re right about the rest of them,” Sanji scowled. He ate another bite of casserole and a shudder overtook him. “None of them can eat with any sort of decorum.”

“Decorum? That’s a strong word.”

“It’s the word I’ve got.” He let Law eat some more before continuing. “You know… that’s part of why I love cooking for the ladies so much—they know how to hold themselves… sort of like you.”

“You saying I eat like a girl?”

“I’m saying you’re fucking polite; the idiots are appreciative, yeah, but they’re never polite. Can’t you take a compliment?”

“You used my kitchen without my permission, not to mention committed breaking and entering.”

“We have a key. It’s not breaking and entering when you have a key.”

“You all are exhausting.” Law rested his face in his hand, cheekbone nestled into the palm, as he leaned with his elbow on the countertop. “You, uh, usually make riceballs when you’re over here—why the change of pace?”

“Like I said: it would fill Luffy, and I’d still be able to save you a portion since it reheats and keeps well.” Now done with his own food, Sanji went back to the dish and began to portion out the rest in some resealable containers—where did those come from? “I’ll feel better knowing these are around; you’re too damn skinny.”

“I’m fine.”

“I can see your ribs through your scrubs, and Shachi told me none of them can get you to eat worth a damn. Fuck off.”

“You’re not my mother. Why should you care?”

“Idiot.” Sanji finished putting the leftovers away and put water in the pan to soak before sulking over towards the balcony. Law could see him from his chair, tapping his foot and fidgeting as he tried not to pace in lieu of a cigarette—ah, he fucked it up, didn’t he? Yeah, he was getting pretty sick of the Straw Hats just dropping into his life unannounced and usually with trouble trailing behind them, but at the same time… the man did have dinner waiting for him when he got home from work…

Figuring it was only fair, Law finished his food, partially loaded up the dishwasher, and went digging around in his room. Once he found the crushed, open packet of cigarettes, he brought them out onto the balcony and held them out towards Sanji, who stared.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“Not often, but enough.” He waited until Sanji took one before grabbing one of his own, putting it between his lips as Sanji flicked on a lighter. Law leaned down and lit the end of his cigarette with the same flame Sanji was using to light his with, their faces close enough for him to see the blush on the blond’s cheeks with the light from the flame and the distant streetlamp.

“Th-thanks,” Sanji mumbled, closing the lighter.

“Thank you for dinner.” Law inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs before letting it all out his nose. Sanji was almost slackjawed watching him—not many people had seen him smoke before, let alone any of the Straw Hats. “Now look who’s staring.”

“A-Again… I didn’t think you smoked.”

“You put me in a nostalgic mood with that meal,” he replied. When his smoking conspirator said nothing, he continued, “This was the brand the idiot who fostered me smoked; sometimes it takes me years to finish a pack.”

“This is the brand I smoke.”

“Lucky.”

Another silence.

“I… didn’t know you were also in the system.”

“That much actually surprises me, with how much our collective idiots talk.” Sanji scoffed at that—yeah, they both had some prime idiots in their lives, didn’t they? “Eight years—the last five was a series of group homes until Penguin became a legal adult and took Shachi, Bepo and me out, which was hard. The first three…” He took the cigarette from his lips and watched the smoke curl off the end. “Let’s just say it was a different kind of hard.”

“Aged out after ten in the back of the geezer’s restaurant and just never left,” Sanji admitted. He then thought for a moment. “Must’ve been a hell of a guy if he gets a doctor to smoke.”

“Surgeon, and…” Law wanted to agree, but it was… complicated. “He tried. I can’t fault him for trying.”

“No, I guess not.” Putting his hands in his pockets, Sanji leaned on the balcony rail and shrugged in an attempt to seem aloof. It made Law think back to his tweenaged years, tramping about as he and Cora tried to run from their demons. Nights curled up in a tent or the back of the station wagon; days going from hospital to hospital in an attempt to cure what the third rate hacks refused; growing close despite the arm’s length distance; the pain of living every day, though pulling it together because that was all either of them could do for one another. Through the smoke and the colored streetlights, the other man resembled Cora more than he wanted to admit, though at the same time…

No, Law couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Cora was not only the man who saved him all those years ago, but he went around introducing the two of them as father and son. Very few truly believed it, mind, but he still did it to avoid questions. It didn’t change the burning way which he missed him some days… one of the many ways Doffy missed him, he was certain…

…except Cora was dead, Sanji was alive, and Law wanted to thank him properly for making him dinner. He wondered if the man in front of him ever slipped out of his careful, measured Eastern accent into something that sounded like home and what it would take to make that happen. What did he feel like underneath those carefully-curated shirts and slacks and suits? How did he sound when he was the one being cared for through careful ministrations? Would his mouth turn even filthier in the face of affection? Was he really as limber as everyone joked? Did he taste just like the cigarettes and cheap wine of his hazy memories or was there more to it than that? He watched him stub out the cigarette on the building brick and toss the tarred filter in the heavy flowerpot Law used as an ashtray—the younger man sure could suck them down…

Law swallowed hard; oh shit.

“Please tell me how to thank you for dinner,” he requested, voice threatening to crack. Sanji looked at him with one curled eyebrow raised.

“I cook for my friends all the time. It’s fine.”

“No, I want to be polite and thank you…” He inhaled deeply on the cigarette and caged Sanji in against the balcony rail, leaning down to press their lips together so that he could exhale in the other man’s mouth. A wisp of smoke fluttered between them as Law pulled away, watching as Sanji flushed a deep pink as he finally let go of his breath and smoke came pouring from his mouth and nostrils, enveloping him in a dizzying, hazy halo. “…properly.”

It was a moment before Sanji’s brain began to function again, it having shorted out the moment Law kissed him. He watched as it was the older man’s turn to extinguish his cigarette, amber eyes flashing in the dim city night with something uncertain… something he wasn’t even sure Law himself understood. Hesitating, he calculated the risks involved with continuing, all of his math pointing towards one singular answer: the night was already full of surprises, and he wasn’t going to learn what they were by leaving now.

“I keep my men to a high standard,” Sanji bluffed. “Do you think you’re ready to meet and exceed them?”

“I know who is in your friend circle—that bar is on the sidewalk underneath us.”

“Not that low, but low enough for you if you play your cards right.” A slight breeze carried off the rest of the smoke and now the blond was Just Sanji again, though it was a Sanji who knew that possibilities were presenting themselves and he didn’t hate it. Sanji left the railing and went back to the door, pausing to look back at Law with a smirk. “Let’s get that kitchen cleaned up and then we’ll talk.”

Law nodded silently, following Sanji inside his own apartment as his anticipation began to build. He shucked off his scrubs and let them drop to the floor; Onigiri went to sniff the pile, yelped, and stumbled away. Now in just his sleeveless undershirt and a pair of oversized basketball shorts, Law moved around the kitchen with Sanji almost effortlessly, wiping counters and placing varied spices and utensils back where they belonged. A glance here, a light touch there, and the electricity between them only built. Once the dishwasher was set for a delayed start and Onigiri’s kibble and water refilled, the pair looked at one another knowing that they had put it off long enough. They stood close enough to smell the remaining smoke still clinging to their skin and clothes, not nearly as strong but still the same scent that was pulling them together.

When it was clear Sanji was not going to budge, Law made the first move, ducking down to kiss the shorter man, the action almost timid. He tilted the blond’s chin up gently, making sure their faces met despite the eleven centimeters between them. Cigarettes, yes, but none of the cheap wine and instant noodles he remembered(?), he imagined(?); instead he could taste the casserole and something else as their tongues scraped together, frankly surprised anything other than the ashy smoker’s aftertaste was present, let alone detectable. As he broke the kiss, his nose brushed against the other man’s hair; unlike his mouth, the hair smelled exactly the same, with the sweet, cloying scent that the specific cigarette brand left behind.

“Are you going to continue to be a creep, Traffy, or are you going to invite me to some place more manageable?” Sanji quipped. He watched as the almost-drunk expression on Law’s face darkened before he swallowed and tried to wet his tongue.

“Tonight, please,” he hoarsely half-whispered, “use my real name. Call me Law. You can’t call me anything else… not tonight.”

Something clicked in Sanji’s brain and he nodded once. “Do you have something that you want to call me?” He watched as Law seemed to consider the notion, turning it over in his head before letting out one quiet word, voice dry and hushed.

“Cora.”

“I’m not a woman.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

Sanji considered this, then nodded. “I don’t know what the fuck this is about, Law, but don’t make me regret it.”

Taking that as all he needed, Law grabbed Sanji by the wrist and dragged him through his apartment to his bedroom, nearly throwing the other man onto the bed. He was almost immediately on top of him, putting hungry kisses on his neck as he pawed at the shirt and tie. The blond shoved him off in order to loosen his tie, a ruffled expression on his face.

“This is Doskoi—hold on,” he scolded. Sanji took off his tie and rolled it carefully, putting it in his jacket pocket, which then ended up draped on a nearby chair. His belt was treated in the same way, getting tucked into another pocket. “Not all of us go around in clothes that can be tossed on the floor, you know.”

“Work clothes,” Law defended. He sat on the bed awkwardly, the temptation to palm himself through his shorts very real. Sanji looked at him in the vanity mirror, catching the almost predatory look in the older man’s eyes.

“So… Cora.” He began to unbutton his shirt. “Who was he?”

“That… it’s not important.”

“Did he love you back?”

“I…” He swallowed, guilt blooming in his gut. “I don’t know.”

Of course, Law had not forgotten the last time he’d seen Cora. That abandoned warehouse, getting shoved in the crate; the very last thing he saw before the lid closed was Cora’s beaten face. He said he loved him, sure, but it was the first time those words had been said with any form of sincerity in years—he wanted more, craved more, and yet that night Doflamingo coldly took out all his rage and hostility on his brother. Law always wanted to ask why and how, tempted to go back to the corpse and see if it was really lifeless or just barely hanging on.

Surely he would have been caught had he did, right? If not by Doflamingo’s gang, then by the cop who drove them away. Cora-san had been a cop himself, well, right up until they went off-grid. That was how his younger self knew the man whisking him away from certain death in an organized crime ring could be trusted. No cops, no alternate crime bosses; just the two of them. Cora simply took him for himself and ran.

He never looked back and yet that was all Law could do.

“Anything that’s off the table?” Sanji asked, now in just his underwear. Damn, he was skinny. Law shrugged.

“Like…?”

“What are you not into?” Sanji’s lips pursed at the silence that met him. “Okay… what are you into?”

“I… erm…” Law just shrugged, still awkward. Sanji simply came over and tugged his shirt over his head, exposing his chest and back tattoos. He sat and traced one of the shoulder ones with a finger, attempting to parse out how to begin.

“Do you need to be called a good boy?”

He bit his lower lip—it was a start.

“How about a bad boy?”

It was subtle, but he bit down harder.

“Okay… then how about this: you gotta be on top, or bottom?”

“Can I… top…?” Law felt incredibly shy as he was beginning to regret this. Sanji just leaned into him further, their bodies pressing together.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. Law nodded in response.

“I know.”

“Listen, Law…”

“You, erm, don’t have to talk or do a lot if you don’t want to; just… don’t worry about me.” He glanced over at Sanji, who seemed as though he was trying to piece him together mentally first. “What… what do you like?”

“Depends, just as long as who I’m with isn’t too lost in their own head,” the blond said. He leaned in and kissed Law, all ash and that delicious dinner. “I’ll invoke one of my idiots if I need you to pause, okay?”

Law nodded at that before gently placing his hand on Sanji’s neck and jaw, guiding him into another kiss. He pulled them both down onto the bed, positioning himself so that he was pressing the younger man against the mattress. They broke the kiss with an inhale, after which Law began to move toward the back of his jaw. The smell of smoke and food was intoxicating—mmm… this was good.

“You’re doing great, Law,” Sanji crooned. Law’s lips had been over his throat and the vibrations made him whine. That was when the blond decided to kick it up a notch to test the waters and let his natural accent come out. “You feel good; come on, make Cora feel good.”

Something clicked in Law’s mind as the smooth Northern tones of Sanji’s voice washed over him. It was not the same as Cora’s—not by a long shot—but they affected him all the same. He moved down to Sanji’s collarbone and bit, pulling a hiss from the blond.

“Naughty,” he chided. “Show me, Law; show me what you meant to back then. Be a good boy and show Cora a good time.”

Law grunted and rutted against Sanji’s leg, getting friction against his still-clothed erection. He continued kissing and grinding, hands finding their way over the other man’s slender body. A hand against the blond’s package revealed he was hard as well. He thought for a moment about riding him, feeling that cock swell inside him, but reconsidered as he reached for the nightstand drawer and pulled out an old-yet-still-wrapped condom and a near-empty bottle of lube. Fuck, it had been a while since he did anything other than tug himself off and he was going to make every moment of it worth the wait.

Seeing that things were in order, Sanji wriggled out of his underwear and allowed Law to manhandle him, opening his legs and letting a slick-covered finger slide its way in. They kissed as another finger worked its way in, then a third, Sanji moaning into Law’s mouth with each new test and flex of the surgeon’s long digits. He grabbed at Law’s hair as his own cock was flushed and throbbing by the time the hand left him, precome dribbled down his stomach. Law wiped his hand on a nearby cloth and then flipped Sanji over, putting him on his hands and knees atop the mattress.

“Hey, what the fuck are you…?” He went to protest, only for Law to steal his breath with another kiss that held his attention for a bit too long.

“Don’t you worry,” Law murmured against his lips. “Let Law take care of you now. Don’t worry and just concentrate on me.”

Law slid off the bed and shoved his shorts and underwear down in one movement, letting the garments rest at his ankles as he slid the condom on and once again let his fingers trace the muscles on the powerful legs before him. They were meatier than Cora’s had been—not to mention shorter, since the man had been tall—but Law had grown since then, hadn’t he? All he knew was that he had a blond in his bed, a Northern accent in his ears, and cigarettes on his tongue and in the air. He lined himself up with Sanji’s entrance and pushed in, shivering as the other man cussed underneath him.

Ah, fuck! His ass was so warm and tight, enveloping Law as he thrust experimentally. Tight, yet pliable… willing… hungry. With his feet planted firmly on the floor, he explored the younger man’s body with great interest, listening to the noises he pulled from him. A shiver and he knew he found his prostate, holding a thigh with one hand and Sanji’s lower back with another as he snapped their hips together.

“Law!” Sanji cried out, the sound going straight to the other man’s dick. “That’s it, Law! Yes!” He thrust harder and harder, hoping to make it long enough to not embarrass himself. His muscles began to shake and he knew he was doomed. The world was starting to blur as he came closer to orgasm, spurred there even faster by the encouraging noises and sounds coming from under him. He couldn’t even think as words escaped his lips, mind in a complete orgasmic blackout.

“I love you too, Cora!”

At that he came, gasping as he bent over double, his chest pressing against Cora’s back as he thrust through his after-shocks. Cora said something sweet as he nearly collapsed on him, only barely able to pull out before collapsing on the mattress. Was that the sound of Onigiri skittering away from his door? Law felt Cora’s cock and found it was still hard, allowing himself to be eased down to the floor so he could kneel at the other man’s feet while he sucked him off. Gentle hands played with his hair and he felt so light… so content… what was even happening? Soft Northern oaths reached his ears as the cock in his mouth shivered and a spurt of hot hit the back of his throat. He swallowed around it, drinking up every last drop he could.

Cora said something and all Law could do was pass out.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A few hours later and Law woke up with a splitting headache and sore thighs, stark-naked between his bedsheets. He only just barely registered the other person in his bed, the fact that it was Sanji taking a few minutes to soak in. Yeah… he was naked… Sanji was naked… it smelled like sex… oh, and his condom was gone. Great.

“Oh, fuck…” he groaned, then winced at the sound of his voice. Oh… he swallowed dick, didn’t he? “What time is it?”

“Eleven,” Sanji replied, idly scrolling on his phone as he sat up against the headboard. Wait… why did he sound Eastern…? “Surprised it’s not eleven in the morning with how soundly you slept. I had to drag your ass into bed… and you’re not exactly light.”

“Sorry,” Law mumbled. He looked at Sanji and felt his face grow hot. “I… uh… don’t remember…”

“I didn’t roofie you, if that’s what you mean.”

“No… just… was it up to standard…?” The blond sighed—not a good sign.

“You’re fucked up, you know that?” Sanji locked his phone and tossed it on the other nightstand before sliding down into a lying position. “You might want to consider therapy.”

“I don’t have time for therapy,” Law admitted. The feel of Sanji’s fingertips against his skin, tracing his chest tattoo, felt so good it was almost ticklish. “Sorry if I’m…” He swallowed. “…fucked up.”

“Who isn’t?” Sanji shrugged. “You give a good sleepy blowjob at least.”

Fucking hell… Law wanted to hide under the covers and not come out until Sanji was out of his apartment building and in the next neighborhood. He just seduced a Straw Hat, of all people, and had shitty sex… his standards were tanking so hard it was a good thing his actual friends were all on a night shift. Sanji, however, simply propped himself up on his elbow and glanced down at Law as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

“You don’t have the time for therapy, I can’t afford therapy, and yet we’re right here, able to fuck it out until we’re good at something, don’t you think?”

“Don’t pity me.”

“…except I’m not, asshole; you’re realize that if you were fucking lucid.” He reached down Law’s body and cupped his junk, causing the other man to suck in a sharp breath through his nose; not quite over-sensitive, but not ready-to-party either. “Maybe while we’re waiting I can fix us up a snack?”

“I haven’t been to the store…”

“Then it’s a good thing I did before coming here.” Law thought about that for a moment before it hit him.

“You were planning on this, weren’t you?”

“Maybe… maybe not?” He leaned down and kissed Law on the mouth, their lips open and pliant against one another. “Guess you’ll have to find out, hm?”

Law’s life really was more eventful with the Straw Hat Gang entangled in his social circles… but at what cost…? Better yet: how exactly was he going to make the most of it?

[helloescapist]

In Another Life | Kyojuro Rengoku

Word Count: 5438

Setting: Rengoku x fem!reader (reader is a miko), angst, pining

Content Warnings: things got suggestive in the last paragraph.

Summary: He had never dared to admit that he had noticed the affections he carried for you. Because to do so would mean to leave you, and yet, for all his yearning, the time has come.

[Art work is not mine, all credit goes to the artist! The song utilized in this work is also "Sakura, Sakura" a Japanese folk song, and not mine either!]

The light breeze lingered amongst the sakura blossoms, danced amongst the branches, and rattled their petals. The brush of spring flittered through his hair, the occasional petal catching amongst his amber hair. Tickled his nose, and reminded him of the warmth and life, tender as a blossom beginning to bloom. A kiss of spring bidding farewell until they should meet again, the sunlight immolated the blaze of his eyes. Eyes that captivated a setting sun despite the radiance of midday. The glow of the hour guiding his footing amongst the winding path. A fragrant as their passing love, the touch of spices that dared to reminiscent of winter’s wake, and spring’s welcome.

Tucked amongst sakura trees that bloomed against the spring day, the path was often over looked by the average traveler that had wandered through the region. Its path having curved only slightly from the main route, at one point, it had been an obvious departure from the path. The stone lanterns that had once illuminated the night for weary travelers, now had shown signs of slipping from time. In his youth, they had been properly maintained. Dutifully cared for, and lit by the numerous miko that traveled across the sacred grounds. Their flame captivating amongst the night air, shadowed amongst the trees in the valley, captivating and otherworldly. But, just as the numbers of the Demon Slayer Corps had dwindled, so had the caretakers of the sanctuary. Like the stone lanterns enthralled by moss and intrusive vines, the path had certainly endured better days, slowly slipping away from its original glory. Its fading presence a light threatened by the depth of waning night. It had felt like a life time ago since he had wandered this path in its prime. A fry cry from the state before him. On practiced feet, Kyojuro could only make the voyage, reminiscent of the years he had made this very same journey at his mother’s side. As far back as he could recall, she had been devoted to this pilgrimage. Often daring to do so despite inclined weather, natural disasters, and even questionable company, she had been so adamant that neither illness nor childbirth could defer from making the journey. In his formative years, she would bear his weight upon her back, and as he grew, she had quietly accepted the added burden when his feet had grown exhausted, the distance bearing far too much for someone so young, but she had never complained. Merely quietly rocked him to sleep as she pressed forward, allowing the stars to guide their return home if the hour had grown late. He had only begun to notice the fatigue and the toll the journey had taken on her body after the birth of his little brother, Senjuro. He had been only a few weeks old, his entrance to the world had been far to recent, and demanding on his mother guided by her adamancy. It was after all, the duty of those left in the Hashira’s wake to pray for their safe return.

                In that time, the path had been so immaculately maintained, unlike the impending ruin before him. Crumbling stone walk way, tucked under fallen sakura blossoms, the traces of winter littering the ground. The breaking of sunlight through the petals, drawing his attention to the trees above. Nostalgia captivating his thoughts as he pressed forward, the distant voice of singing whispering through his ears. Greeting his arrival, likely louder than he could surmise, having damaged his ears so many years ago. Ethereal and gentle as delicate as the petal blossoms that swayed carrying the melody. The familiarity whispering a chill down his spine, drawing the faintest of a blush to his cheeks. Memories sweet and enduring as the spring fever that threatened his heart. Tucked to the flame pillar’s smile, he knew this song well. His heart revealing his affections before he could even thread the words together. Delicate and tender, the siren hum threatening to send him back to another time.

The first time the young Rengoku had heard the distinct lyrics, he had been little more than six years old. Duty had beckoned their presence at the shrine; his father spirited away to another mission. His mother had followed the path the same way that day. Through well practiced hands, and instincts, the visit had been habitual. One that Kyojuro could perform in his sleep. Like a duckling tucked at her side, he had bowed before stepping through the torii gate, and had cleansed himself at the temizyua. The water had been especially chilly that day, still bearing the tinge of winter’s presence as the sakura petals broke through the season. Followed dutifully at his mother’s side, watching the money filter down the offering box before bowing and clapping his hands together. Uttering a prayer before peeking at his mother between eyelashes. Kyojuro had known what was expected of him. Understood that this time was intended to be divulged to praying for the safe return of the flame pillar, and his father. For how long, he couldn’t quite understand. He had suspected that his mother could dedicate hours to prayer, and for someone so young and easily distracted—that was when he had heard it, ushered in shy humming.

                “Sakura sakura,” the gentle hum drawing him from his mother’s frame. His eyes as wide as the sun, curious. The voice revealed small and delicacy. So different form the usual voices he had familiarized himself throughout the sacred grounds. The miko and priests well into their years, “noyama mo sato mo,” curiosity had officially robbed him of all of his senses. He had barely recalled to claim the closing sequence of his shrine visit before abandoning his mother to his fate, the young boy eagerly treaded off in search of the source. “Mi-watasu kagiri,” he passed waves of miko, old and young alike all of which had seemingly ignored the siren call. “Kasumi ka kumo ka.” His feet struggled over rocks and boulders, wandering further and further from the main building. All evidence of his mother out of sight. ���Asahi ni niou.” Far too enthralled in his search to acknowledge how far he had wandered, nor the small animals he had disrupted as he had wandered pass blooming trees that slowly faded into waves of purple, a wisteria grove. Far too trained on his sight to acknowledge the scratch upon his cheek that he had obtained rummaging through the foliage. “Sakura sakura,” his small steps echoing the pitter of water beneath his shoes, “hanazakari.” Wide amber eyes that drifted amongst the surface of a pond, the gentle blend of wisteria and cherry blossom petals carried away by the trembles of the broken surface. “Sakura sakura,” strayed in gentle hues of shy pinks and vibrant purples like the catch of daybreak in the morning, lanterns erected from the water had yet to be lit, the sun denying their necessity. “Yayoi no sora wa,” faded torii gates that stood the test of time, defied the odds of the water, and stood proud amongst the sunlight, “mi-watasu kagiri.” His fingers found the scathe of the rocks, the light slipping off the moss beneath his finger tips as he pulled himself onto the first floating stone.  The pathway before him was clear despite the obvious challenge it posed for his still growing form. “Kasumi ka kumo ka,” but he could not be redirected. Nor differed, well aware of the water that caught to his clothing, the splashing catching small droplets in the air. “Izaya izaya,” the drops daring to touch the end of his hair as he pressed forward. The tap of his feet slipping from stone to wood, drawing water as he triumphantly bound up the shrine steps in a blind focus. “Mini yukan.”

                There, you stood, a vision amongst the throngs of wisteria blooms gathered in weaved baskets. Each tenderly plucked from branches, gathered in bunches that bathed the shrine in their familiar violet hues. The floral waves capturing your silhouette. The telling red hakama bunched over growing legs, the white kosode that had been carefully tucked, and ribbons that swirled in your movements. A form of kagura dance, he had understood. The shrine had been known to perform them in the past, and with each movement you formed his eyes had fallen to the embellishments adorning your hair, cared to the top of your head. Your eyes closed over doll like eyelashes, the last of the song pouring from small, delicately painted lips. Oblivious to his arrival, the area evident that no other soul had dared to wander so far nor discover the shrine. Intruded upon the local kami, he had realized and interrupted the rites that she had performed. Protecting, and perhaps, even answering the Lady Rengoku’s prayers. A small piece of the heavens fallen to the earth, Kyojuro had turly believed he had been spirited to another world. His eyes wide as the smile that followed before he popped his head to the floor, the bow proving to quick and eager leaving a small whelp at his brow. “Sakuya-hime,” his voice had radiated over the feature.

The distant memory warmed his heart, tended to the flame he carried all of these years, the shy startled gasp you had released at his booming interruption. In his nativity and youth, he truly believed that he had wandered upon Konohanasakuya-hime’s shrine, and dared to witness the sacred rites of the spring goddess that no man had ever before experienced. If he closed his eyes, he could still recall the frantic radiating blush that had claimed your features as you quickly refuted his claim. You had begged the kami forgiveness, likely worried that you would be wiped from the course of the world for such a bold compliment. In time, he would come to understand he had made a mistake in identity—although it had taken him far longer than he dared to admit. In the depths of his heart, he had concluded that surely the blossom-princess had blessed your birth. It was the first time he had ever witnessed someone so young caring for the shrine. As time spent together would pass, you had explained the importance of the burdens you bore; tucked away from the world at such an early age, you had been the descendent of the priest assigned to the shrine. The last to wield a blood of special qualities, one of weaving wisteria into protective tomes, omamori, and ofuda.

                Forward, Kyojuro climbed to the torii gates, his bow tucked to his chin and at a perfect angle. Bowing deeply, guided rather by instinct than faith itself. He had made the voyage so many times in his youth, and even after the passing of his late mother, he had been known to frequent the grounds. Masquerading as a loyal patron, he would bask in your company. In many ways, he had grown to understand his mother’s devotion to prayer and to his father despite the frequent absence. Hours had been dedicated at your side. How he had been ensnared by your presence, charmed by the songs you would sing while you weaved your talisman. Warmed by your gentle smile, captivated by the giggles you would gift him upon sharing recounts of his adventures. Craved your touch between pressed fingers, the distinct scent of your skin bathed in wisteria as they danced across his cheeks and torso. Salve pressed against his flesh, the distinct utter of concern as you lectured his safe keeping. You had understood his duty born of the Flame Hashira, but even more his obligation to protect the weak, as he understood the necessity of continuing your lineage and duties. Yet, at times such as those, you could not hide your worries. Whispered the sweetest reminders of how you had prayed for his safety. The gentle touch rolled over his muscles, dancing across lesions, and presses that evolved to massages, he dared not complain nor reveal how he ached for those touches. Craved them in the dead of night. Only bold enough to seek them out mission after mission, scuffle after abrasion, knowing fully well you would care for him in a way neither of you dare confess. The longing of hearts intertwined and denied, his only hesitation in visiting born after his encounter with a flute demon, the only time he had ever felt shame over his impulsiveness; his hearing had been permanently marred in the battle. The remorse and growing fear that he may never hear your voice again, nor the soft songs you shared over wisteria fibers. His hands that had been pressed firmly to his lap, tight and anxious had been carefully threaded. As though you were grasping something as fragile as the blooms of your trade before daring him to meet your eye. Comforted by the affections you bore, reassured. You had made promises, whispered loving insurance that you would always sing for him. Vowed whether age or damage deafened his hearing, then you would be louder. Should the time come when all sounds of the world had failed him, then you would hum the softest of lullabies with his ears pressed against your throat in an embrace only dared by lovers.

                Bowed before the shrine, he had become aware of the presence at his side. One of the elder mikos, a woman far past her prime, and descending rapidly in years, Kiku had been a caretaker at the shrine for as far back as he could recall. Dared to even assume she had cared for it long before his mother’s patronage—not that he’d admit it to the elder. She had a firm slap on her, but he could recall how affectionately she had cared for him in his younger years. How she had soothed Senjuro’s cries, and paid visits to his family home to offer company to his ailing mother as she often did for you as well. She had been a prominent figure amongst the mikos, and while others had abandoned the cause, she had stayed in your care. His wide grin catching his face as he turned to the older woman. Gray had long since claimed her features, aging whiskers caught at her chin and the wrinkles she had bare. One of which captivated upon her brow, the two of you had placed there yourselves many years ago. It had been an impulsive voyage, Kyojuro had been far too eager to show you the world, especially when you had admitted you had not left the grounds since your faithful meeting. Forbidden was not a word he was adept to, nor quite understood, and so, he had snuck you from your shrine. It was innocent fun, one born of a boy smitten and naïve, and quick to take a turn. At the time, he did not comprehend the depths your blood bore, nor their lure. He had only witnessed the warm, undeniable joy that formed at your lips despite the scratches at your face from low branches. Further provoked his desire to carry you down the valley, to unveiled the meadow at the bottom. Wished to touch the reality of the wide world, to play tag amongst the flowers, to weave a crown of blooms for you alone, but the lure of your blood was more than he had understood. Garnishing the attention of demons that sought refuge amongst the thickets, eager for a midnight snack. Perhaps, it was fear that anchored you to his side despite his insistence to leave him behind, or it may have been blind loyalty that had you snagged to his sleeve, wailing pleas for him to follow. Whatever it may have been, he had resolved to tucking you at his back. Received a series of lashings and thrown about—his father had not yet the opportunity to train him in offense when another life was in the balance, and his inexperience had shown. If not for Kiku, who stood before him now, her arrows bathed in wisteria, and her aim sure as her mark, he might have lost you. Her aggressive rattling of both of your bones was a recollection he would never forget. Jerked each one of you left and right, inspecting you for any damages, and the rear curse she had spewed in her anxiety (she still denied this to this day). Yes, that very wrinkle that had settled at her brown was afflicted by him, and him alone, as was the deafening realization that silenced any desires of adventures, settling only for visits when he could spare you the time. Stronger, he needed to be stronger.

                “Ah, Kyojuro,” parted from aged lips, the crinkle of the corner of her eyes revealing her worries. Heavy as the years that bore at her back. Her once soft voice had dwindled, scared from giving an impulsive boy far too many lectures leaving a gravel bark in her throat. The familarity touched at her face as she regarded him.

                “Granny,” he had shouted, forgetful of the way his voice carried, “How have you been?”

                The scowl that met him was telling, and warning, “the years have not yet taken my ears.” The touch of a sigh, shaking her head as her eyes wandered to the overgrown path, its care beginning to crumble with the inapt care. There were only so much lesser hands could accomplish, the duties too far, too heavy, and too demanding for the dwindling numbers. Yet, the wisteria blooms remained. Unchanged, unaffected for what burdens may bear. Faithful as their keeper. “Perhaps, you can talks some since into [FN].” It was a hushed whisper. One that carried its own burdens, and bore upon her as her eyes met his. Rengoku did not need to ask, did not wish to be reminded, nor did she need to. Yet, all the same, she delved the information, one that scared his heart. “Another proposal has been offered, a nice suitor at that, but it ahs not even been glanced over… I worry that if things continue as they are…”

Your hands had threaded through his hair, the growth had become evident. The small tuff of a ponytail had begun to sprout, one that he had boomed with so much pride. So eager to follow in the footsteps of his father, the evident bruising as his arm from sword practice. Abrasions that littered his face, determined to persevere. Leaned into the warmth of your touch, and enjoyed as you gathered his hair into a ponytail. His eyes closed, and listening to the whispers of a prayer that had masked as a song as something heavy plopped against his skull. An embellishment added from care tied into his hair, a special charm weaved from wisteria and hours of effort. Crafted by your own hands, a ward from evil, and the reveal of something deeper. Something he only dared to face in his youth. As he turned to meet your eyes. He had heard the rumors from the other mikos. It was quite the oddity after all, how dedicated your father had been to securing a betrothal for a child so young. An insurance when you came of age, inspired by the sudden loss of your mother that had resulted in your relocation to the shrine. Locked away from the world, tucked into a shrine for safe keeping, and now, marriage proposals. Rengoku was familiar with the scolding from well-meaning mikos, insisting over and over that he should break off contact with you rather than toy with your heart. The young boy had only been reassured by Kiku at the time, her insistence that such a young age, romance may very well blossom, and if it perhaps did not, a beautiful friendship would.

                She had been right on many accounts. She always had been, the gentle touch of your fingers through his hair. As you toyed with it, playful and giggling as any child attempting a new hairstyle. Teased him at the length of his hair, dared to claim you envied its beauty. Teased that at the very rate of his growth, he may elicit the wrath of the very spring goddess he had confused you for only a short time ago. His twitch against your touch before turning to meet your gaze. The flames that burned from within, and once again, the thoughtless impulse that drove him forward. Dared him to meet your gaze, urged him to cross the threshold of childhood friends. Wandered were caution abandoned, his lips pressed against your own. Gods above, he did not know what he was doing. A stolen first kiss beneath wisteria blooms. Boisterous promises, ones that threatened to break the sky, and shatter the world you knew. He would claim you as his bride. When you were grown, you would be together, and fulfill your birth right and his own. A proper family born of flame and wisteria rather than the games you played. The shy gaze, the part of your lips wide and surprised, dropping the brush in your shock. His boldness urging him forward, a pinkie promise to secure the deal.

With every fiber of his existence, the promise had been a sincere one. One born and weaved of young love, blossomed affections that would never come to flower. Time had claimed his mother shortly after, and the weight of her loss had borne heavy upon his father. A massive blow that had torn the Rengoku family from its place. Shattered their structure, and tore out their foundation, leaving the members askew, and out of touch with one another. A far heftier blow than any absence brought on by his father’s missions, one that broke the older Flame Hashira from his duties, from his children, and life all together. While Kyojuro had been familiar with the ache his mother faced in his father’s departure, nothing could have prepared him for the devastation his mother’s loss would leave in her wake, and while he still visited you faithfully, tucked close to his heart, and lingered for your touch. He had thougth you had long since abandoned that childhood pledge. You had after all grown over the years, as had your touches and all that he could ever crave, but in his own ignorance, he hadn’t noticed it before. The refuted suitors. Dodged questions when he had dared to inquire about your betrothal status—prior to his careless promise, you had insisted the importance of carrying on your bloodline, but ever since that day, you had grown quiet. Silenced any discussions, insisted that the moment of time spent together should not be marred by politics and duties. To be only the children who had fallen in love so many years ago, free of worldly burdens, though you had not confessed to that last part. No, it was not that he hadn’t noticed, it was that the Flame Pillar had refused to acknowledge it, or the joy it fueled within him.

                “I had always thought, perhaps you--,” Kiku sighed.

                He knew what had crossed her mind, just as it had crossed his. Perhaps even yours more than you dared to admit. The weight at his chest, burden and aching far deeper than any blade had ever reached. It was as though, he had already departed from you for another mission, rather than just arrived for his visit.

“I will speak to her.”

You were there. Just as you always were. Tucked amongst the blossoms where sakuras met wisterias, a vision of spring and warmth. Joy and love, lost to time, and danced amongst another world. One that he had only dared to touch, but never to claim. Your smile was as inviting as the song that parted from your lips. His steps growing heavier and heavier, weighed down and refusing to abide by his resolve. His eyes sharp, and focused. The recollection of sweets prepared just for him. Of songs performed as you weaved, entertaining his visit. Glowed upon his arrival, and diminished at his departure. Never admitting the pain his absence brought you. Nor did he admit to witnessing first hand, the way you sparkled just for him. Far more captivating than any jewel, nor flame that this earth could provide. They say, love brings out beauty. The warmth of your steps as you hurried down the shrine steps. The adornments in your hair catching the dwindling sunlight, far heavier than they had been in your youth, and more lavish than he had ever expected. Your age having brought upon such duties. As had your hakama that met his legs, your hair captured by the wind, and the ribbons that spun amongst the breeze as your arms folded around him. Warm, and captivating, the life that bore into your breast pressed against his own. Elated to hold him in your arms once more. The way your nose brushed against his throat, catching the distinct rumble of his heart, breathing in the familiar scent of ember, savoring the notes of ember. Glimpse of smoke hues of a campfire in summer awash with the glow of sunflowers, as inviting as the grasp he had on your hips. Hopeful, and tempting. Stronger than normal. Bold as the day Kyojuro had promised himself to you. The note of a tremble as he delved his face into your hair, uttering a prayer for the moment to last. To touch upon a world, a life that did not belong to him. To claim one not intended for him.

                You had attempted to urge him into the sanctum, did your best to encourage his visit. Your once bright demeanor hinting at how his grasp had unsettled you. You would sing to him, you promised, or even dance. Your kagura dance had grown by leaps and bounds, this year you would perform it at the shrine. You promised to brush his hair back for him, as you had so many times. A quiver beginning to form in your voice. Salves, you had made new salves for him alone to accompany to his mission. Began to probe for details about his upcoming voyage on a train—you had never seen a train before. Your warmth, and the force of your smile. Evident of the secrets that crept beneath your surface as did his own. Your eyes catching at his lips, all too aware of the lack of smile that should have been present. Or the way his fingers should find your own, leaving you only to desperately grasp for him. For all the words you did not say, nor he dared to depart, the realization that something was wrong, was evident, and you desperately fought for any cracks to his surface. Grasped at wisteria blooms far from reach, and evading your touch. Desperate to see the Kyo you knew and adored beneath the resolved mask he bore. Your hand daring to fall to his own, eager to meet his eyes, to be reassured that it was your merely your imagination. The tremble of your voice that nearly broke him. “K-kyo?” Yes, for all of the years he had avoided it, denied the satisfaction that you would choose to chase his promise over a marriage proposal, sick that he had carried this torch for so long, the passage of time had made its evasion unbearable in this moment. Everything you had rejected in his favor, everything he had denied you of, and longed for desperately. You had grown. You both had. Before him, stood the silhouette of one who refused to walk their path, denied their responsibilities, and future. Crouched at the entrance of life, faithfully awaiting a hand… a pinkie promise, that would never come.

                Your paths had split long ago, and yet, he had dared to cling to the frays of a life he had envisioned torn at the seam.

                “[LN].” His voice boomed, rattled your bones and froze your senses. The formality clear and distinct, and foreign to you. The line he dared not cross as you attempted once more to pull him into the sanctum. The harrowing realization that he dared not pass the threshold of the shrine. Nor budge in the pull of his lips. His eyes, warm and glowing. Determined… and stubborn as they met the callous of your hands. Folding them within his own. The anxiety had now begun to fest in your stomach, unwilling to acknowledge the shift in aura. Or acknowledge the detached regarded he had displayed or the wish he revealed to pull from your touch upon your last meeting when you had dared to tread further than ever before… boldly ran your fingers through his hair as you had once in your youth, but differently. Mature intents, parted lips in only the way you could adorn him, and waddled into the depths of waters, drowned in affections, you had attempted to pull him in at his last visit. If only to know his touch, just one time, but he had refuted you. Quick to excuse himself, and leave your bed. The panic of that past interaction beginning to shake you—had your daring to tempt him uprooted your connection? A cross roads in which you had been willing to wait as long as he required, but now, the creak of your throat. Nor the tears of your eyes could escape his gaze. He knew. As you had known. His touch delicate, eyes swept over by his eyelashes as he bowed to you. “Please, live a long life.”

                The release of your hand as cold as winter, denied the warmth of summer. The spring days that would not meet an early summer, but rather a delayed cold front. Troubled, your eyes wide, and the tremble of your shoulders. Unwilling to catch your bath, or perhaps too stunned to try, unable to deny the tears that plunged down your cheeks. The ache of nausea and shattering heart break chill you to the bone. The quiet hush of a cry, you dared not to utter. Your hand merely suspended in the air, yearning for nothing more than for him to claim it once again. To spirit you away form the shrine as he had in his youth.  The shiver that threatened your spine and your foundation of duties. The wide of his smile as he farewell to you. Never willing to admit he had witnessed the fall of your façade. Unwilling to accept the weight of the world that crumbled beneath his feet as he descended down the shrine steps, bidding farewell to the hours he had adorned at your side. The warmth of your lap after a long day, and the rest you provided as a pillow, and fingers that threaded through his hair. He did not dare dwell on such bittersweet ghosts, nor admit that such a life would not be his own. Nor did he dare to pray for the suitor who would claim you in his wake.

                No, in another life, he would be the one to captivate you. To claim you as his own as he had promised so many years ago. To wrap his arms around you, declare your second kiss his own just as he had your first. He would act upon the impulsive a man long in love, declare his devotion in every aspect. Worship the ground you walked upon, kiss the tears upon your eyelashes that threatened to fall. Warmed by the sun, and greet you upon the bed of wisterias. He would not have to linger, nor miss the days of your touch. No, your touch would be his and his alone. To trace every line of his body. He would claim you in every right of the world, leave proof of his love littered across your body. Ensure that the world, the night, the sun, the stars, and the blossoms would know of his dedication. Ensure it would be his flame you carried, regardless of how many nights he would profess his love. It would be his child born of fire and petals adorned in all of the love he could provide, and welcome many more little ones to come from the nights he dedicated to worshiping your body. Lost amongst your cries of ecstasy, leaned into the curve of his fingers. It would be his adoration you bathed in, filled to the brim with his resolve. But in this life, he could only dream of a forgotten promise and unspoken words, and turn his back on the girl who defied her responsibilities for a pinkie promise that would never come.

A/N: Thank you for taking the time to read this! Sequal, In This Life is now available!

[batwingsandblackcats]

Trick or treat!

*dumps a full bag of Reese's into your backpack*

Have some late-Aeor arc Mighty Nein from a few years ago that I never got around to finishing

—

Miraculously, Caleb had enough energy to summon up the tower.

Something Yasha was deeply grateful for.

She would have been okay sleeping outside, she always had been. Truth be told, even after having the tower for a while, having the Xhorhaus, sleeping under a roof was still a little uncomfortable.

She was getting used to it, though.

No, Yasha wanted the tower for her friends. She wasn't going to say no to a hot meal, either.

The Nein dragged themselves into the tower once Caleb had finished casting the spell, and Caleb knelt down to greet a few of the etherial, amber cats that trotted over.

"Yes, hallo Kaspar," Caleb said, his voice weary, ragged. "please have your friends prepare some pancakes, stew, ah, some roast chicken, ja?" He looked over his shoulder, cracking a smile when a few of his friends nodded enthusiastically. "Also some roasted vegetables and bread, some Lionett wine….oh, and pastries. Maybe some black moss cupcakes too," he patted Kaspar's head and pulled himself to his feet and led his friends deeper into the tower.

Yasha followed her friends up the winding brass stairwell, and up through the iris to the great hall. All of them were dragging their feet when they touched down again, the iris closing beneath their feet. Caduceus was leaning on his staff, exhaustion on his face. Fjord wasted no time in shrugging his heavy coat and breastplate off, Jester gently shushing Sprinkle. Veth was rubbing at a bruise on her arm, grumbling about the blood spatter on her yellow dress. Yasha's eyes flicked to Beau.

She didn't like the way Beau was leaning on her staff, the way her free hand was holding her side.

Yasha followed Beau and sat beside her at the table, laying a hand on Beau's lower back. Her hand warmed, glowing faintly for a moment, and she watched Beau's face relax a bit.

Beau glanced sidelong at her, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Thanks," Beau murmured, leaning into Yasha's side.

Yasha returned the smile, her arm now properly curling around Beau's waist.

Soon, the table in front of them was piled high with all the different foods Caleb had requested and more, Jester digging into the plate of pastries right away,  Fjord and Veth digging into the three roasted chickens that sat along the table as Caleb tucked into a large bowl of stew. Caduceus happily dug into a plate of roasted vegetables while Beau loaded her plate with roasted meat and fresh bread. Yasha pulled a stack of pancakes towards her, a smile flashing across her face as one of the cats dropped a small plate of spiders beside her dinner plate.

Yasha glanced over at Beau now and then as they ate, still not liking the bruises that littered her arms, the blood still caked on her knuckles. She tried to distract herself with the plate of spiders, picking the legs off and sprinkling them over her pancakes before adding liberal amounts of syrup.

None of them talked much, too exhausted from the scuffle with the handful of frost giants that had ambushed them only a few hours before. There had been so many of them, the fight leaving them all drained, potions expended, healing spells run out. They were going to have to push through the pain until the morning.

Yasha herself had a few deep bruises blooming across her abdomen, a gash on her cheek. She didn't pay much attention to it, she was used to this kind of thing. She knew her friends were as well, but she couldn't shake the nagging worry in her gut.

Beau sat back after a while, groaning as she stretched a bit, seeming to have eaten her fill.

"I'm going to bed," Beau said with a slight grumble that Yasha had learned was a tired grumble, not a grumpy grumble.  "'night guys, thanks for the food, Caleb," she got to her feet, still leaning on her staff a bit, and hobbled towards the brass iris. She paused a moment. "You coming, Yash?" she called.

"Yeah, um, I'll be there in a minute," Yasha answered. She watched Beau leave, that anxious squirming in the pit of her stomach growing more restless. She bit her lip and glanced at Caleb before getting up as well, rounding the table to speak to the wizard.

Caleb looked up from the pastry on his plate, the steaming mug of cocoa beside it. "Hallo," He said, his voice still tired, but more relaxed.

Yasha was quiet for a moment. "Could…could there be some bandages in my room? Something to clean wounds with, I'm not sure…" she trailed off, not sure how to elaborate.

Caleb winced a bit. "Not in your room, no, I'm sorry," he said wiping his hand on a napkin. "but, ah, check in the closet over there, it should have everything you need," he said, pointing to the wide sliding doors across the room.

Yasha nodded. "Right, I forgot," she said, standing up a little stiffly. She scratched the back of her neck, feeling a bit awkward.

"I'll have some Lionett wine sent up, ja? To Beauregard's room?" Caleb asked, giving her that not quite soft, but gentle look he gave her sometimes.

Yasha cracked a smile. "I think she'd like that, thank you," she said, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder before she left the table, bidding her friends goodnight before she walked over to the sliding doors.

When she opened the doors, she found a well stocked cabinet full of soft rolled bandages stacked up on the top shelf, various balms and poultices in neat, corked glass bottles lining the shelves beneath the bandages.

Yasha took a stack of bandages and a variety of little glass bottles, balancing them clumsily in her arms as she made her way back to the iris. She skipped the floor her room was on, and continued on to the sixth floor where Beau's room was. She stood outside Beau's door for a moment, lip caught between her teeth before she knocked softly, knuckles rapping gently against the polished, dark wood.

"Come in," Beau called, her voice muffled by the wood of the door.

Yasha entered Beau's quarters and kicked her shoes off by the door, feet padding across the hardwood towards Beau's bedroom. 

She found Beau sitting on the edge of her bed, not having changed yet. She was still holding her side, dried blood still caked on her knuckles, her eyebrow.

Yasha returned the smile, stepping forward into Beau's room. The fire was roaring, the heat welcome after the hours they'd spent trekking though the snow. The lights were low, and Beau somehow looked even more tired than she had at dinner. A bit more relaxed though, which eased the anxious squirming in Yasha's gut.

[lynx-1512]

Camp cleanliness ranked

10. Astarion (outside looks posh but in the inside he sleeps with spilled blood bottles around him)

9. Karlach (doesn't give af about cleanliness)

8. Minsc (doesn't even have any belongings and camps with the bare minimum)

7. Wyll (a noble who lives almost properly but also... a messy Warlock with cobwebs around his bed)

6. Gale (Doesn't care about the moss around his bed as long as he's got his books)

5. Halsin (one with the nature but not with the moss on his bed)

4. Lae'zel (just functional yet never dirty)

3. Minthara (a high profile noblewoman who likes neatness but grows mushrooms around her bed)

2. Jaheira (a mother first before a legendary hero.. she has her experience taking care of things)

1. Shadowheart (a prim and proper cleric... staying clean and aesthetic goes along with staying pretty)

[outlying-hyppocrate]

treebury upon avon crispin lore!!

crispin's mother's side of the family is almost entirely composed of vampires. this is not a thing he takes pride in, and actively denies the fact.

he is unable to recognize people's features properly, meaning that everyone's faces are slightly blurred to him.

since crispin is very sensitive to sunlight, he is most often awake at night, tending to his flowers. this unfortunately results in him being very tired throughout the day.

when working at the flower stall with star, he will usually fall asleep while talking to the customers, which makes him seem somewhat impolite. however, this is not actually the case, as crispin can be somewhat of a people-pleaser, trying to make others like him. he just has no idea how to talk to people properly as he comes off as slightly strange (':

crispin is extremely fond of berries, and especially adores eating raspberry/strawberry jam on toast from chanterelle coffee. it is the only thing he orders, and if ever they are out, he simply refuses to eat anything else.

that being said, crispin has been seen trying to consume the flowers when he thinks no-one is looking. to delve into specifics, he likes the white roses the best. please don't tell star.

crispin is naturally a very dramatic person, and enjoys pursuing the arts whenever he isn't helping with the flower stall. he likes to sing to the flowers at night, while the rest of the world is asleep (or, at least, trying to sleep, because they are silently hoping that this idiot will shut the fuck up)

he also likes to have conversations with the flowers, telling them about his dreams, a new piece of music inside his mind, a memory from his childhood. they do not respond, of course, but crispin quite likes talking to them. perhaps it is an effect of sleep deprivation.

despite sharing a lovely house on a hill with star, he is rarely seen there. he prefers it outside, where he can spend time with the flowers. if ever he wants to sleep, he sleeps with them, on a bed of moss.

he loves his flowers more than anything, even more than himself, which is surprising. he considers himself to be quite attractive, despite not ever being able to clearly see his own face. he likes to take a look at himself every chance he gets in the reflection of the river, hoping to recognize himself. but his flowers still come before everything and everyone as he is absolutely enamored with them (:

(i decided to do this because of @felixlib because i can't be an original person. feel free to turn me into a crispin-shaped knife block)

[shukakumoodboard]

anon i hope you are able to find this because you asked my original blog and i’m trying to stealthily migrate so my irls can't find me dkgjhfkjl

answers below the cut <3

would you like some fandomy thoughts?

1. list 3 positive things about your current fandom(s) [which ofc im answering for gaalee]

the discord i'm in for it is the highlight of my day and forms approximately 65% of my social life! who knew you could hyperfixate on some gay ninjas and as a result, end up visiting people irl and getting christmas cards and making incredible friends all over the world? pretty sure i have standing invites to homes in at least 3 different countries rn. incredible

fic quality is fuckin'. superior. and i'm not saying that because i write, i'm saying that as a reader. it's a smallish fandom and yet there's folks who can write full-length novels like @sagemoderocklee and @the-moss-project, people who can write every possible trope and au greyson's georg @ghoste-catte and @urieskooki and so many others i couldn't list them all. it's beyond obvious that the authors who write the gaalees are SO passionate about them. writers i lov you evryday

seguing from that into art!?!? pleas i have a dragon hoard of fanart only for my fics and there's over 100 pieces. A HUNDRED ARE TIOYU GIKISDINDIGME. giving u all a kissy rn. also the way i can get on discord and get immediately smacked in the face with bespoke paneenis liike every day help. gheelpp don't look at me. i will save my money and commission every one of u if its the last htign i do

2. a headcanon you weren’t sure about at first but have come to like!

oho! ready for this one? i was initially not super on board with hairy!lee. what was i on actually. me, a Wrong, and now i will purposefully include it in every fic as a sign of penance for my sins

3. answered!

4. say something nice about a ship you don’t ship (it can be another ship in your fandom, a mutual’s OTP, etc)

those who know me know that i strictly see leesaku as a brOTP, like those dudes are buddies to me. but that being said, i think leesaku as a romantic pairing is far healthier for sakura than her canon partner. lee is capable of so much love and forgiveness and they do parallel each other so much as the like... "underdog"/non-gifted member of their respective teams. she deserves love and support and understanding and lee would be genuinely ideal for it.

5. something you see in fics a lot and love

sunans (and team gai) being multilingual. oml one of my fave headcanons. you cannot tell me these different countries with different isolated villages are all casually speaking the same language when in big chunks of nart they didn't even like. get along properly. i loooove the concept of a shinobi common tongue and regional languages. further on that same thing, given team gai is pretty chinese-coded, i think it makes sense that they'd also be speaking another langauge, whether taught by gai or just because of their own independent histories or whatever. @sagemoderocklee has some truly stunning worldbuilding and it where i got my love for this hc from <3

6. something you see in art a lot and love

h-h-h-hHEIGHT DIFFERENCEEEEEEE

ok joking aside i refuse to believe gaara made it past like 5'3" that man did not sleep for his whole adolescence. conversely lee was probably on the Optimum Macros and that healthy eating would 100% contribute to maximum height gains etc. that man deserves to be 6 feet tall, that's my opinion and im right

thank you so much for the opportunity to gush about my blorbos <3

[megabuild]

You shall talk about bdubs whether you like it or not (for the ask thingy) - Clovis xoxo

oh don't worry i like it so much.

1: i see him as a gay man! "but scott" you cry "what about cledubs". it still happens but in a very "what if a fag and a dyke could fuck ruthlessly" way. also he's cis but his gender is simultaneously sort of all over the place in typical gay fashion.

2: recently i've been drawing him as a bat hybrid so some stuff on that- he purrs instead of snoring, he has little wings on his back that never grew in properly, his leg+feet muscles are strong enough to support his weight upside down if he so desires! but usually he doesn't do this because sleeping upside down as a full sized guy is not so great for him.

3: on the appearance front still- he is littered with scars from his time in the jungle because late on he was caught in a ton of vines and the thorns left a permanent mark. this is part of the reason his moss hoodie has big floppy sleeves, because the scarring on his arms and hands are particularly bad and sensitive to touch, plus he was just a little self conscious about it for a while (but he's getting better).

4: for some reason i always saw him as... not actually being an "official" mindcrack member? like he IS but. i think i had a dream or something at some point where he was a builder that came on world to fix something up and he ended up just staying LMFAO. a lot of mc guys in my head were like this where they weren't formally invited (even though in real life etho and doc were i still see them as just stumbling in).

5: i don't have much backstory for him compared to some other characters i think he had a pretty normal life prior to the horrors. but i do think he grew up in a pretty remote place. also he grew up with horses because of course he did, he didn't live on a farm or anything but i think there was a ranch nearby and that helped foster his love for the beasts as an adult

6: re:ethubs (predictable) i'm a strong fighter for etho fell first but bdubs fell harder but also etho is an idiot and didn't have the experience or language to understand he was in love so maybe bdubs fell first too. however, he fucking HATED etho for a long time despite also clearly having a huge crush on him and not actually disliking him that much. he's like a tsundere to me, is the best way i can explain it. pause was his wingman on mindcrack for a while but this was a situation that literally nobody was happy about or wanted to happen.

7: i think he's a good baker. not excellent but i think he should get really into baking and making little treats. they probably look way better than they taste because decoration is his favourite part. also said this before but i think he'd get really into star signs for a while but he doesn't take it that seriously he just reads his horoscope every day and then if things go wrong he'll blame that.

8: i could go in depth here about something but this is a sfw blog so i'm just going to gesture vaguely at the one post that's like "i'm into bdsm be dozin so much" and leave it at that.

9: on sleeping- he is just a generally sleepy guy and always has been, but also i think he suffers from a touch of chronic fatigue. nothing that severely impedes him but like, when he goes to bed on time it's because he literally cannot stay up past his bedtime or he will Pass Away

10: when etho left in season 5 he left his headband behind. bdubs took the decorative metal clasp from the front and wove it onto a necklace, kinda like a dog tag. still wears it to this day under his shirt where nobody can see! when etho learned this for the first time he got very. Very emotional. but anyways .

11: (bonus ethubs one because i just remembered it) he HAS watched a lot of etho's lab but didn't before meeting him. he went back and watched some early stuff, but out of respect for etho after learning about his life he never finished it.

[theladypirate]

I’m living for your million mile tag ramblings about your bg3 kids. They all sound so messy and I love them. Can I maybe get more info dumps, or the thing where you pic a gif that matches their personality? 🥺😘

Wake

Wake is just so far out of her depth and refuses to let anyone know bc she desperately wants to seem like she knows what she's doing. She met Karlach and was immediately ready to fight Wyll for her. She's very speedy (current speed with all bonuses before dashing: 80ft) and does dope monk shit. She wants to help her friends but man can they stay like... Good? For like 5 minutes? She wants to marry Karlach and adopt 5 dogs. She thinks Lae'zal and Shadowheart are secretly fucking. She thinks Astarion needs a hug and Gale needs a rebound. She and Wyll are besties. She wants Halsin teach her how to whittle. She thinks Withers is a funny little guy. Someone help her, but don't make it obvious.

Tu'an

Tu'an's name is literally trouble and she lives up to it. She's actually a DND character I've got and translated into BG3, and her backstory is pretty dark, which is fine bc she's so beyond caring. There's so much wrong with her, she has an ungodly pain tolerance bc she doesn't really feel it anymore. She can't get drunk bc repeated infusions of very high level healing magic have artificially sped up her metabolism and she processes alcohol without getting any of the good woobly feelings. She finds the fact that Shadowheart could kill her SO sexy. Would absolutely destroy anyone who disparaged Scratch or the owlbear cub.

Moss

If you mixed Parker with Nathan and then further traumatized that resulting person you'd get Moss. Moss is an angry little cutthroat bitch who would sell you for a corn chip. Except not all the time bc if she likes you she would stab the person trying to get her to sell you out. With prejudice. And never tell you about it bc it's none of your business. Her main way of expressing affection is to bitch at you to do self care while pointedly ignoring that she is also not sleeping or eating properly. She and Gale do NOT get along at first, he finds her abrasive and clinical, she finds him annoyingly positive AND he eats magic items. After the Grove he realizes she's more than she lets on and makes an effort to understand her, which throws her for a loop bc nobody has ever bothered to try before. She has no clue what to do with her feelings. Truly a mess.

Vyn

Truly a proper bard. She thinks very highly of herself and doesn't think about anyone else. She has committed plagiarism and will do so again. She wants the glory but absolutely does not want to work. She would have committed cryptocurrency scams if it existed in BG3, and she's so charming she'd have gotten away with it too. The most likely to be tricked by The Emperor, since he's flattering her and she loves to hear nice things about herself. Has never had to deal with the consequences of her actions and is now having just so many rude awakenings. This adventure is going to drag her kicking and screaming into being an alright-ish kind of person and she isn't having it. Wyll isn't even her normally type but she zeroed in oh his hero complex and wanted to exploit it so she would have a bodyguard, but she got in too deep and now she actually wants to be the person he thinks she is and she's never going to live this down.

Ocelia

Besties with Jahiera. Does not care about being nice or polite unless you give her the respect she has earned. Has a strict moral code to protect her from the Wizard Hubris, which often leads her to denying herself things she wants, or making her do things the hard way. Thinks Gale is an idiot and one step removed from a warlock. Unflinchingly honest when prompted, if you don't want her to tell you what she thinks you should not ask her. Has backup plans for her backup plans and always has her head on a swivel. Technically a Duchess although she leaves the running of her estate and lands to her younger brother, who is a much better people person. Can see that Astarion has the potential to be Better capital B and refuses to let him wiggle out of doing the right thing. In return he won't let her pretend she doesn't want something. They bring out the most ragged parts of each other and somehow it... Just works. Neither of them will address the elephant in the room aka their feelings. Shadowheart has a bet going with half the camp over whether or not they'll fuck or murder each other. Ocelia has placed a bet and won't tell Astarion what it is.

[bluiex]

Post escape scp au, I think they’d live in something like a lush cave biome. The natural formation making it easier to hide from the foundation, as opposed to a man made structure.

Maybe in some mountains! To satisfy the avian part of Grian (a number of birds nest on cliff and the sides of rock formations)

It probably takes a couple days to properly clear the place of stagnant water, to establish a proper nest, dig out a shallow fire pit, and the like.

I can’t help but imagine during this time, Cub hardly speaks. He does as he’s told, feeling he’s undeserving of being around them. Half of him probably expects to be eaten during those first nights. He gathers some moss of his own and sleeps on the furthest side of their cave from the campfire with his back to them. He probably prays they make his death quick, even if he knows he deserves something slow and agonizing.

And when they actually do talk properly, Cub does nothing but apologize. And, it’s strangely cathartic for Grian and Scar, knowing at least one person watched their suffering and was revolted by it. To know that at least one person didn’t cheer when they stole their eggs.

(Even years later, taking care of their fledglings together, with their whole flock, safe, he doesn’t stop apologizing)

(When Pearl and Jimmy find out who Cub is to Grian and Scar, they nearly kill him themselves. The only thing that stops Pearl that night from crushing his windpipe, is that he’s carrying actively their eggs. (The eggs are also the only reason Cub puts up any kind of fight—he won’t let them lose any more eggs, he promised them that!))

— abridged anon

PS, omfg harpy Jimmy n Pearl meeting up with grian again (probably by pure chance) and Jimmy immediately taking a shining to Scar asdfghkgkfksjehf

Aww.. Cub my beloved- it is okay quq they love you waaah I feel for him- this is great and bless Pearl for being so protective XD

oh my god Jimmy would just be so infatuated with Scar

[screechingsandwichhologram]

asks about ur channah design/headcanons/lore :3

oooooh yippee!!! so i dont have too too much for her but i do have thoughts about her so <3

most of this will be basics of her design & past life & stuff ?

so first of all, shes a flower based fae. in my dsmp au there's different sublevels of fae - based on the type of magic they're attuned of the most. there's river fae, wild fae, moss fae, etc. hannah is a flower fae (of the spring court). this, appearance wise, gives her natural flowers growing out of her, pointed ears, cat-like pupils, and general unnaturalness (it is important to note that because of this, people had a much harder time telling when she was egged because she was already uncanny). she also has two pairs of wings!!! they are shaped like an orange oakleaf butterfly, but the pattern is a pink version of the chestnut tiger butterly !!! also the second, lower one is feathered. one special thing to note about her is her antlers!!! these antlers are due to her deal with the God of The Wild (nature in general !!!)

very quick sketch of hannah design !! ^

before the smp, (and, according to my own lore, around the end of The New Timeline) she lived in a small village with her grandmother. Her grandmother, of course, wasn't actually her grandmother, but rather an old lady who found her as a young toddler at the end of the woods. Her grandmother raised her, even knowing what she was, and taught her how to properly care for plants. When she was a teenager, after she had grown her wings, her grandmother brought her to the forest to meet her own kind. hannah was welcomed, of course, but kept coming back to the woman who raised her. at some point, the village found out what hannah was, and attacked her grandmother. hannah managed to stop them, and grabbed her grandmother and ran into the forest. the fae weren't too happy with the grandmother being in the forest, and Hannah was a much lower fae, so she didn't have much sway.

hannah ended up seeking out the god of the wild. she told it that she would do its bidding (be its champion!) as long as her grandmother was cared for. it agreed. as a token of her championship, she was granted antlers (well, technically horns but they are shaped like antlers). those hurt to grow in btw.

as the champion of the wild, she did. some stuff. its wasn't much, and was pretty tame. she enjoyed her work (it was basically large scale gardening), but she began to grow anxious and paranoid. she was sure that the god would ask her to do something awful and big soon.

but, then The Collision happened ! and the timeline & world rebooted. because she was the champion of the wild, she was able to survive and was saved, but because she was so closely tied to the now nearly dead god, she fell dormant. she was basically in deep sleep for thousands of years. during this time, nature grew around her, and she gained an almost stone-like texture.

one day, though, a traveler accidentally knocked into her. she was pushed just enough to crack her antlers. over time, the vines growing around her would further the crack, eventually breaking the antlers off. the pain (and the removal of the tie to the god) woke her, and she found herself with iffy memories, in an unfamiliar place, and no one she knew. the fae were few and far in between, so she could not find comfort in her species. she started wearing sweaters because she found she was always cold, and as a self-comforting weight.

she eventually figured out a way off the server, and went to hypixel, where she met purpled. she learnt to fight there, and learned what happened to her home. she also figured out what happened to her. the years of sleep had blurred her memories, loosing the details, but the basics were there.

after some time, she decided to go back to the dsmp. in some feeble hope to try to help the ancient gods (and some strange attachment to the one who gave her only worries.)

at arrival to the dsmp, though, her feathered wings were clipped, and almost stripped bare. they were useless. her butterfly wings were tattered just enough to render them useless as well.

okay thats all i have for her past. uhm now some things.

her colors (of her wings, her roses, etc) are very dependent on her mood. they have become duller over the years

before the dsmp, she had many more roses covering her.

shes sapphic !!! and also demigirl, but uses she/her prns exclusively. oh and also polyamorous !!!

the egg regularly would have her tear out her feathers (and replace them with vines)

she learned how to crochet after the egg

she can make pretty decent pastries !!! she really enjoys it, at least.

thats all i have for rn (its late so my brain is fried) but i hope u enjoy?

[usernoneexistent]

Juniper goes back to Hogwarts for the first term when one of her friends disappears. Will Juniper and her friends find their missing companion?

Warnings: mention of substance abuse, talks about plant murder.

"Ma! Ma!" Juniper shook her mum gently. The bottle of draughts lay empty next to her. Juniper didn't need to read the labels to know that her mum had downed the calming and sleeping potions.

"We're going tae be late if you don't wake up!"

Juniper bit her lip to hold back tears of frustration. She was dressed and ready and even squeezed time for breakfast. If Juniper could, she would take herself down to King Cross station. Still, she needed the extra hand to carry her luggage and couldn't use her magic outside Hogwarts yet nor apparate. On top of everything else, they were out of floo powder.

"Ma! This is no funny!" She turned to look at the old cuckoo clock. "I have tae be there in half an hour!"

She shook her body again but gained no reaction from her mum. Though the sound of her rhythmic breathing still reassured her that she was alive at least, a morbid thought that she quickly buried.

Running out of time and options, Juniper ran to the Doughlas, hoping either could take her. Though luck was in her favour, Gedeon looked as though he was ready to leave for work.

"Ged! Wait up!"

"Junie!" He dropped his things to the ground and immediately rushed to her. "Is everything alright?!"

"Nothing is alright!" She cried out loudly. "Ma is knocked out, and I need tae be on the Hogwarts Express in less than half an hour!"

"Don't worry, I'll help you."

Gedeon half dragged Juniper back to her home. Taking long strides and getting in half the time. He helped gather her luggage and quickly apparated to Kings Cross station. They ran as if their life depended on it through the pillar of platforms 9 and 10, barely making it.

"Don't worry, Junie." As he pushed the luggage cart, Gedeon comfortingly patted her back. "Just get on the train and I'll worry about your stuff, okay? Enjoy Hogwarts, and I'll take care of your mum."

"Thanks Ged."

Before Juniper leapt onto the locomotive, she gave Gedeon a big hug of gratitude. She searched through all the compartments looking for Rowan and Ben.

To her surprise, she found her friend, Rowan, alongside Ben, Penny, and Tonks.

"Hey guys," She said, still catching her breath.

"Juniper!" Rowan got up and hurried over to embrace her.

"We were so worried when we couldn't find you." Penny looked relieved at Juniper. The train jerked as it moved from the platform to the countryside.

"I waited as long as I could with my parents. I'm sorry I couldn't wait any longer." Rowan looked ashamed, but Juniper hugged her back.

"Nae worries, Rowan. There were some delays at home."

Juniper finally could sit down and calm down properly.

"Are you going to tell us who that handsome guy was, Moss?" Tonks shifted to Gedeon's appearance. Juniper blushed brightly at the insinuation of the question.

"He's just a family friend." She quickly shut down Tonks. "Anyway, what's everyone's schedule like?" Juniper changed the topic, causing Tonks to express annoyance by blowing a raspberry. The rest rummaged through to find their timetables.

"I think we still have charms together." Ben looked over at Juniper's schedule. He looked relieved, but he was reticent. Too quiet for Juniper's liking, but she also realised that she, Penny and Tonks were extroverted personalities to deal with.

"We still have Herbology together." Penny smiled brightly. "I do enjoy Herbology as there's a lot of ingredients used in potions and this year we finally get to work in the greenhouses."

Juniper and Tonks shared a mutual glance. They have found unity in the fact they have brown thumbs rather than green fingers.

"While Penny shines in giving plants the kiss of life." Tonks dramatically starts.

"Tonks and I will rule in the shadows as plant killers." Juniper finished off, taking their claim to their rulership of the underground of Herbology class.

"Wanna make a bet on who can kill the most?" The Hufflepuff girl had a mischievous glint like an imp.

"3 gallons."

"Make it 5."

"Deal."

"Guys, let's not kill any plants please." Penny pleaded at the novice plant killers, but Juniper and Tonks laughed with found amusement.

Rowan peeked behind her book about European wizards in medieval times. "I agree with Penny. I don't think Professor Sprout would be very pleased with finding her plants deceased."

Tonks and Juniper shrugged but carried on catching up. The trolley lady came, and they bought sweets. They compared and bartered with their frog cards until the familial scenery of the wet, Scottish highlands came to view.

When arriving at Hogsmeade station, they searched their luggage and changed into their uniform. Though what's different this year is that they walk straight to the castle instead of the boats. Ben excused himself, mumbling that he had forgotten something on the train, so they left without him.

"How did your search go?" Rowan pulled Juniper from the group. Tonks and Penny carried on talking, not noticing their absence.

"I couldn't get much but I practised a lot of spells. Ged helped me out." Juniper surmised the only helpful thing that she could do over the summer.

"Well I finally managed to find something. I read everything I could find relating on our search for the cursed vault."

Juniper felt herself fill with hope at Rowan's answer. She pulled out her pocket journal from inside her robe.

"'The ice knight stands guard past the vanished stairs.'" She managed to quote from her scrawl of handwriting.

"Exactly," Rowan pushed her glasses up. "I didn't find anything about the ice knight, but I found descriptions of staircases in Hogwarts that no longer seem to exist."

"Those vanished stairs could lead to a cursed vault. And if I can find a cursed vault, I might be able to find ma brother."

Her heart leapt with joy. This meant they could actually find a curse vault and be closer to finding Jacob. She could run over the bridge from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts with glee.

"Though there are a hundred and fourty-two known staircases in this castle."

"That's going to take some time, but we can just ask Penny and Ben to help later." Juniper was so happy that she didn't mind embarking on the exhaustive search they were about to undertake. For now, she just wanted to be back in the place that was a haven.

Students streamed in, slightly wet from the drizzle but drying up quickly from the warm fire. Dumbledore stood regal in purple as the new first years were introduced. The sorting hat sang the song he thought of throughout the past year, accompanied by the frog choir with Professor Flitwick enthusiastically conducting. Then the new first year was sorted into their houses.

"Welcome to our new first-year students! For all, you returning students, welcome back!" The headmaster gathered the students' attention. "Focus on your studies, make time for your friends, but above all else be careful as your journey about the castle. If you see anything odd that isn't normal Hogwarts sort of oddity do not hesitate to tell a professor."

Juniper felt the piercing blue stare from Professor Dumbledore like he was sending a personal message to back away from her quest. He swiftly glanced back at the rest.

"Every year is an interesting one at Hogwarts, but something tells me this year holds more surprises than most. Enough of my grand proclamations, and ominous warnings. Please enjoy the feast."

With that speech concluded, everyone tucked into the feast. Right after it, Juniper crashed head first on her fluffed-up pillow of the top bunk by the house elves of her dorm rooms.

"Merlin, I missed this bed." She mumbled.

"Glad to you see you too, Juniper Moss." Tulip replied, with her hands on her hips. Juniper gave a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Aw, they've cleaned up my drawings." Her other Ravenclaw dormmate, Badeea, mentioned. Tulip and Juniper gathered around the bed and saw the colourful marks on the bed posts had disappeared.

"I'm sure you'll draw more beautiful art, Badeea." Juniper assured.

"It's fine; some art is not meant to last forever," Badeea said.

Another girl, Juniper, seemed to have missed last year, laid out the poster and plastered it to her small area. It was of a quidditch team, Wigtown Wanderers, and she recognised it as a Scottish quidditch team.

Juniper was too tired to think about anything else and quickly fell asleep.

The next day, she and Rowan attended their classes as usual. The teachers were the same, but Juniper had a nagging feeling about something. She couldn't focus on anything. At lunch, that feeling intensified. Penny offered Rowan and Juniper to sit with her.

"Rumour is, that Skye Parkin is going to play for the Ravenclaw quidditch this year?" Penny went on, but Juniper was too zoned. She subconsciously looked for Ben at the different tables. "You do know who she is? Juniper?"

"Huh?" Juniper snapped out of whatever daze she was in.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I mean, yes but I'm concerned for Ben." She answered anxiously, cracking her fingers. Rowan scanned the room and came to the same realisation too.

"Wait, when was the last time you saw Ben?" The Ravenclaw inquired.

Juniper thought hard. She never saw at the Gryffindor table during the feast. "I think when we got off the Hogwarts Express."

Penny nodded in agreement. "Yes, I haven't seen him since we stepped off the Hogwarts Express either. And he wasn't in potions class too. I'm a little worried now."

Rowan remained silent. Juniper didn't like that her other best friend was uncharacteristically this quiet. She remembered Ben was the same on the train shortly before he disappeared.

"We have to make sure he's okay. I can ask around and see if anyone knows where he is." Penny offered.

Juniper had another person in mind who could be of faster help.

"We could ask Professor McGonagall what she thinks." She suggested. The Transfiguration teacher was usually pragmatic and reliable, Juniper found. "She's his Head of House, so she'll ken what to do."

"Thanks, Juniper. Please let me know what you find. I have a bad feeling about this..."

***

Juniper searched for Professor McGonagall and learned from other students that she was patrolling the clock tower courtyard. On her way through there, she bumped into a familiar Slytherin or, instead, she purposely bumped into the Ravenclaw.

"Watch yourself, Moss."

"Aye right, Snyde!"

They glared for a moment longer, but Juniper had other worries and adding Merula wasn't helping her.

The Professor in her green velvet robes stood to watch. Her eyes kept track of every student.

"Professor McGonagall?"

"Miss Moss, I assume you're here to discuss about your friend, Mr Copper." The teacher said out loud Juniper's thoughts.

"Aye, Professor McGonagall. Ben's missing, and I was wondering if you could help me find him?" Juniper implored; the adults should be able to do something, right?

Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "Did you see Mr Copper on the Hogwarts Express?"

"Aye, along with Rowan, Penny, and Tonks. But he seemed fine." The girl assured though she didn't seem convinced of her own statement.

The Professor picked up on it. Her nose wrinkled a little. "Have you noticed him behaving strangely at the end of last year?"

Juniper shook her head in dismissal. " No, I mean, aye, Ben always has been a bit odd, but no..."

"It's unclear what damage was done when you made your ill-advised trip to the room filled with cursed ice. That ice has been known to have strange effects on students." Professor McGonagall sighed. Juniper hid her gulp of guilt. It seemed more teachers had painted a target on her head than she had expected.

"Did you find anything in that room? Any clues or warning about potential threats beyond the room itself? I understand your reckless pursuit of the rumoured cursed vaults given your brother's unfortunate circumstances. This, however, is not about you. This could not only affect Mr Copper's well being, but all of Hogwarts." She warned sternly. "It's critical that you be honest, Miss Moss. What did you find?"

Juniper knew better than to lie to a professor and Professor McGonagall of all the teachers. Still, most adults seemed to have not been able to help her.

"I did nae find anything, Professor."

"Hmm." She pursed her lips again. This could be better. "You better be telling me the truth. Unlike last time, we hope the ice remains in that room."

"Last time?" Juniper perked up more. She hoped that the Professor would tell her more.

"It's not important. What's important is that you search all of Mr Copper's known hiding places for clues to his whereabouts." Professor McGonagall stressed, and she knew that the girl would want more. "The faculty will likely find him first, but any assistance is welcome to ensure that he s found as quickly as possible. Report back to me if you do find him. I would like to know he is safe, and I would like to reward you for your efforts."

Juniper forced a smile and politely said. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall.".

She headed out to her remaining classes of the day. Juniper informed Rowan about her conversation with Professor McGonagall. They agreed that they should use the artefact room later. Ben spent much time there, especially at the start of the first year.

After class, they head towards the artefact room. The sooner they searched, the sooner they could find Ben.

Entering the room made Juniper feel nostalgic. The number of times she snuck in here for secret meetings or to find Ben. She even missed his constant pessimism and paranoia.

"I was kinda hoping to find Ben here, you know." Juniper lamented, though not only about Ben. Her visions from the previous year stemmed in this room.

"Yeah, like he was secretly hiding here this whole time, and his reason was that he was terrified of Professor Snape." Rowan half-heartedly laughed. Juniper knew that Rowan was trying to distract her.

"I guess I'm also secretly hoping that I get another vision." The girl admitted. "One that points to where Ben is."

"Well let's search for any clue for Ben unless you receieve a vision." Rowan knitted in her brows.

Juniper wiped some boxes, which was a mistake. The dust particles get caught in her throat, becoming a coughing fit.

"You think that Filch ever cleans this room?" As Juniper opened up the box and found books.

"Probably not," Rowan commented, looking through the shelves. She checked under the skull, seeming to be crept out by it.

Juniper looked lower down and rummaged through any box at the site until the last one. The reddish brown box was worn like everything else. She tried to open it, but it wouldn't budge.

"Hey Rowan, there's a locked box."

"Do you think it might be something?" Rowan observed, pushing up her glasses.

"Lets see," Juniper said as she pulled out her wand. "Alohomora!"

The box produced a clicking sound. It was open, and inside the clutter was a note. It contrasted with the old and worn objects. The paper was fresh; it must be important.

"Look at this note." Juniper held it up for Rowan to take a closer look.

"Do you think it belongs to Ben?"

"Ben always hangs out in this room, and we're the only other people who ever come in here. I think it has to belong to him." Juniper reasoned; she really hoped so.

"Let me read it." Juniper handed over the note to Rowan. She watched as Rowan was intensely reading. "It's some sort of code, but it's different from the one we found last time."

"Can you decipher it?"

"I think so, but it will take some time."

"I'm afraid time may not be on our side." Juniper sighed though it was something and definitely more than what the teachers had found anyway.

She noted their findings in the notebook and quickly hid them in her skirt pocket. Juniper goes to the great hall to find and hang out with Penny, while Rowan wants to study in the library. She told Penny of their discovery as the rain drizzled lightly outside.

Penny caught Juniper up on the latest gossip and invited her out. The Ravenclaw was curious about what the Hufflepuff girl had in mind, but Penny wanted to surprise her.

She returned to the Ravenclaw tower as another girl slithered closer to her, staying in the shadows.

"You looked worried, Moss." Merula gloated, baring her pearly teeth like fangs despite the darkness.

"What'd you want, Snyde?" Juniper crossed her arms. Her tone was clear that she wanted to get this conversation over and done with.

"I was wondering whether you'd had any luck finding that cowardly mudblood friend of yours." The Slytherin jeered at her.

Juniper clenched her fists. Her stance looked a lot defensive, and no one was around, so if Juniper did punch Merula, at least there were no witnesses. No witness, no crime.

"That's none of your business."

"I know more than you." Juniper knew Merula was smirking in the dark. "I know that sometimes even when people are missing, they're exactly they're supposed to be."

"What in Merlin's pants are you talking about?" Juniper looked at her, confused. She knew Merula tended to have this crypt act last year, but this takes the cake, and the term has barely begun.

"There are things happening at this school that you could never being to understand, Moss. Trying to uncover those things is going to get you killed." The girl warned menacingly.

At this point, Juniper was above done with this conversation.

"If you're trying to scare out of finding the cursed vaults, it's not working."

Juniper walked past, completely ignoring Merula. However, Merula stayed and turned around, leaving one last ominous message for her.

"As you wish, Moss. It don't say I didn't warn you..."

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