#just a lil challenge for me

[wbye-arts]

them!!!!

[riaki]

after party | satoru gojo x reader

gojo wanted to help you prepare a friendsgiving dinner, but he's a little tired n a lot tipsy.

cw: non curse au, everyones alive, shoko typical smoking, drinking, you’re married to gojo wc: 3.3k

this was supposed to be short but it just spiraled n i kind of hate it b i technically posted on the 23rd so it counts !! not proofread!

business dinners with satoru are exhausting, to say the least—you start the day early to the scent of coffee through a filter and a fresh breeze through your open window, sending your husband off to work with a hug and a kiss—maybe a promise of more if he pulls the 'five more minutes!' on you.

this one is special, though; old friends from freely youthful highschool days gathered around your dinner table on the mats of your living room floor catching up over cans of beer cold with condensation, the sound of can tabs popping and the fizzling of bubbly spirits over tables of warm food in tin containers.

geto, the tall man with dark hair and gauges, talks about how his two daughters are adjusting to city life, occasionally interrupted by cheerful brightness never dampened by adult years from haibara, an apprenticing entrepeneur under nanami who's got a thing for girls with big appetites. shoko and utahime are having a drinking contest, and mei mei's too occupied with her phone; checking stocks as her tacky nails click against the glass screen.

satoru can't cook. there's a reason why he always buys takeout when you're too busy to provide or you've already gone to sleep— he should be the picture perfect husband, because you deserve that and everything more. his only (self-perceived) flaws are his lack of alcohol tolerance and his inability to master the frying pan.

you always tell him he doesn't have to be a michelin chef— but with the way he's constantly sneaking a chocolate graham cracker from your muji snack bag or snagging the sour gummy between your teeth from your lips, he feels like he should compensate. so on this special november evening, when the hum of the city life outside your balcony gets drowned out by the cheerful mirth of a warm dinner table, he had decided to help you.

the warm kitchen had become a foodstained disaster— but with tearful round eyes and a hand tugging on your shirt, you'd resigned to helping him conquer the task of simple packaged noodles and soft-boiled eggs. he'd cut his finger— even the most capable teacher found his shortcomings against a blunt kitchen knife. needless to say you'd peppered it with kisses before wrapping a rainbow hello kitty bandaid around it.

and that brings you to the present: the result of your extensively hard work; a few soggy noodles collected at the bottom of porcelain bowls painted red on the insides in a lukewarm puddle of soup, full stomachs and a loose and welcoming atmosphere. you wouldn't trade it for the world.

you're fishing a pickled radish slice out of your bowl when satoru leans over, removing the arm that was snaked around your shoulder to drape himself on your lap, lying down on the floor with his knees propped up and his soft cloud-white hair sprawled over your thighs. geto makes a distasteful face when satoru's black socks brush against his leg. across the table, shoko knocks shoulders with utahime as she lights a cigarette; the latter's face flushes as smoke drifts past her lightly flushed face into the open window city night air overhead.

"hey, you. what's up?" you asked softly, chuckling to yourself as you set your chopsticks atop the rim of your bowl, leaning back on your arms to look down at him. he adjusts himself a little, wiggling on your lap as you caught a whiff of his beer breath and scrunch your nose.

"hiii, baby," he drawls, giggling a little to himself. his smooth, usually playful voice took on that deep tone he used whenever he was being serious, and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, so you hugged him closer and ran a hand through his soft white hair, brushing your fingers against the black cloth of his blindfold. "what'cha doing?"

"i was eating. you put too much pepper in the broth, 'toru." you smiled softly, tracing the line of his jaw slowly with one finger in the way you knew he liked so much; it was obvious from the way he sighed contentedly and tilted his head into your palm. whether it be from that unfathomably sweet smile or the tender way you held his face in your delicate hands, that was up to him to ponder. next to you, haibara makes a joke— something about mei mei's stocks, and she quips a snarky retort that has him laughing raucously while nanami makes a face.

"i tried!" he protests, almost a whine as he sighs; a hand sneaks up to lift the edge of his blindfold up so his eyes meet yours, and you're left breathless. it catches you off guard every time— those endless pools of swirling blue that stare straight through you, sifting through your thoughts like a scholar annotating an open book, all heart-shaped sticky notes and bright highlighters when it came to thinking about him.

"not hard enough, clearly. but it's okay; we'll do better next time."

he just frowns again at that, sticking out his lower lip in a little pout that makes your heart squeeze. your stomach is full with noodles and broth; you don't think you could stomach another bite if you tried, and you're not one to drink especially if everyone else is. so, you let yourself indulge a little— snake a hand on the back of satoru's neck and tilt him up until he's sitting halfway up and you can easily meet his lips in a kiss.

he reciprocates immediately, hungry like he was waiting for you; you notice that he hasn't eaten much of his food yet, so maybe he was. or maybe he knows how bad it is. either way, his tongue darts out from his parted lips to flick against your own for a moment, before he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and draws out a teasing whine that you have to stifle because "we have company, 'toru," you have to breath as a reminder. he just laughs breathily against your lips, tasting like bitter beer and buttery vanilla as he shifts to practically sit on top of you, hands on your shoulders as his thumbs brush over your collarbone where the edge of your shirt fails to cover tantalizing skin; he's taller and eventually ends up bringing the both of you toppling down onto the mats.

your back hits the floor and a little gasp leaves your winded lungs— but satoru eagerly catches it with his lips and swallows it, like he's intent on getting drunken off his ass from you (as if he wasn't already tipsy) when he smashes his swollen lips to yours again. your hair is splayed out against the tatami mats like you're trapped in some marine watercolor painting, and for a split second satoru thinks if mermaids were real you'd be the most angelic he'd ever seen as his calloused fingers curl into the strands.

you're about to hook a leg around his waist when a shout catches your ear and you part lips with a gasp, sucking in greedy breaths as satoru promptly sits on your stomach. you let out a stuffed oomph from his weight, and watch as he slides his blindfold back on to look over at the rest of the table who're staring at the two of you like they're watching some forbidden steamy movie scene that's meant to be shielded from children's eyes.

“don’t kiss him while he’s drunk. it’s like rewarding a brat for bad behavior,” shoko says. you sit up with much effort, straining under satoru’s weight as you reach up to grab his shoulders. you miss, but he takes your hands and pulls you up, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from falling back down as you rest your head on his shoulder. utahime has her arms lazily draped over shoko; you assume she’s drunk from that, but if you were to inspect her for long enough you’d notice her can of beer was almost completely full.

“oh, i guess you’re right.” you remarked, frowning a little and biting the inside of your cheek as you pull away from satoru and glance at him. all of the sudden he looks like he’s ready to keel over; the shadows beneath his eyes are reinforced by the alcohol in his system and it looks like he’ll need to tape his eyes open lest he passes out right on top of you. you want to avoid that, so you gently push him off, sighing to yourself.

“don’t listen to her, sweetheart. you can kiss me all you want,” he smirks, a flash of pearly white teeth that would’ve been on your neck a moment ago if not for the interruption. you just shake your head with a breathless laugh, giving him a quick flick to the forehead. before you can pull away, though— he catches your hand, bringing your wrist to his glossy pink lips and giving your pulse a quick peck. “no, she has a point.” you hummed. overhead, the light flickers a little; a moth that had flown in through the window danced about the bulb. the faint sound of car horns filters through the window along with the breeze, recycled laughter and lively chatter from bars a few stories down carried in the cool wind.

you mill about for another twenty minutes or so, content to just listen in as old friends shared anecdotes and funny stories from separate paths of life; you soon learned that nanami was planning on moving to malaysia, and shoko was due to renew her medical license this year. the beer cans built up, mixed in with crumpled napkins that had penned doodles on the rough surface and paper chopstick wrappers. somewhere along the line, satoru had fallen asleep— you had to push his unfinished ramen bowl out of the way before he knocked his head against the wooden table and spilt his meal. you frowned a little at the sight of it— you knew he'd complain about his soaked noodles and limp seaweed sheets later on. you found yourself slinging one of your jackets over his shoulders, fingers lingering over his neck, where the scratchy hair of his undercut met soft warm skin.

soon enough, dishes are piling up in the sink and calling your name; the kids see themselves home via train station, spouting something about a late night pit stop in sendai for the mochi that 'our teacher likes so much'. you consider asking them to bring some back for satoru, but you decide you'll enjoy a laugh when he tells you about how he went to school the next morning to find out for himself, and the stab of hurt that will pierce his full heart in two when he hears the news. even then, you have to shush them as they show themselves out; you can tell from the way satoru's eyebrows knit together beneath his blindfold and the pinch of his jaw that he doesn't appreciate the noise, no matter how blacked out.

the conversation dies down a little, and soon enough, everyone takes their leave one by one. it's only when you settle back down after cleaning up the bowls and putting away the cups that satoru stirs, waking up with a mumble and a huff. his hair is a disheveled mess, and there are sleep lines on his face, but he's still handsome as ever.

"baby?" his voice is hoarse with sleep and dehydration. there's a dull ache between his eyes, feeling like he'd just ran a circle around the world. you answer from the kitchen, calling his name. it's late; past midnight now. the window's still open and satoru's can of beer is still on the table, almost completely empty.

"how long did i sleep? shit, did everyone go home? 'm sorry," he groans, standing up and stretching his arms out. his shirt rides up on his shoulders, exposing the arch of his hip just above the edge of his pants. "don't worry, 'toru." you hummed, washing your hands in the sink as you look over at him. he just nods, grabbing the can and crumpling it in his hands before tossing it in the trash.

"you okay? got a headache?" you asked as he walked over to you, careful not to hit his head on the arch that connected the living room to the kitchen. when you'd first moved in with him, you had to pin a strip of bright yellow caution tape to remind him to duck his head. you smiled as you reminisced over late nights, tucked in his arms as he mused about demolishing the wall there just so he could be rid of the bruise on his temple. then again, as long as you were waiting for him to kiss it better at the end of his nine to five, he didn't mind.

he nods, and watches as an easy smile stretches across your lips; they look infuriatingly kissable under the warm glow of the hazy kitchen light, shining off the porcelain cups in the sink. he leans against the kitchen counter, cold marble feeling through the thin fabric of his shirt as you take his leftovers from the fridge and heat them up in the microwave, standing before the black glass as you watch the little plate spin inside.

there's something about moments like these; so sweet and easy with you after everyone's taken the last train home and all that's left are empty beer cans and extra bowls in the dishwasher for two people with matching rings on their fingers to take care of.

he walks up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your chin. he smiles when he feels your hand cup his cheek, and he turns his head instinctively to meet your lips in a slow, sweet kiss; a muscle memory tango between familiar lovers. when he pulls away to catch his breath, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, you're already there with your fingers, pulling his blindfold down to rest around his neck and gently rubbing the spot beside his eyes, alleviating the tension behind them. it's unspoken moments like these that he loves the most in your relationship. making a mess in your kitchen is a close second.

it's a slow, easy night after a special get-together when the microwave beeps and you take his noodles out, bringing them to the table as you sit down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, letting him tuck you into his side as he gets a bit of breaded tonkotsu crumbs on his cheek and insists you wipe them off for him like he's some oversized baby. you wash some cherries in a green plastic bowl, competing to see who can spit the pits into the trashcan without missing. in the end, he lost the game of rock paper scissor and was resigned to pick up the missed pits on the floor.

he's still wearing your jacket like a cape and even though it's far too small for him, he insists on keeping it with him when you go out onto your balcony to finish the last of a bottle of sake together, listening to the melody of the wind in the trees that line the sidewalk and the permeating hustle and bustle of the city, even when it's so late at night it could be considered early morning.

he swipes the cold bottle from your hands, finishing the last drops from the matte glass before letting it dangle between your fingers. and you're expecting it when he catches your arm to pull you into another kiss; he tastes like peaches and wine and a little bit of soup broth. it's slow, and easy, because being with him has always felt as natural as breathing, and being with you has made it easier for him to breathe, like the iron weight on his lungs melts away in the face of your unconditional warmth and care. the cool wind blows your hair in front of your face, and he laughs that charming boyish giggle as he tucks it behind your ears and scoops you up in his arms.

"i don't like sharing you with a sake bottle," you said, pointedly looking at the glass in his hand. he just grins, looking down at you for a moment. he can almost see it again; you, in that gorgeous white wedding cloth. he was carrying you bridal style in the same way now, when you'd decided to grow old together and host special business dinners as a couple in your shared apartment.

"don't worry, love. you're sweeter than any spritz," he laughs, stepping inside again and closing the door behind him.

it's routine, and it's easy, getting ready for bed with him, laughing when he pushes his hair back with a headband, looking like a pretty little princess. you suggest him getting a mullet, and he shushes you by shoving your toothbrush on your tongue, getting a mouthful of mint. the warm water rushes over your fingers before you dry yourself off, wiping your face and putting the towel away only to be met with the equal warmth of his lips on your forehead, peppering you with kisses.

you slip into the covers, still pleasantly cold as you watch satoru sit up and take his shirt off. he lets you peel the rainbow bandaid on his finger off, tossing it in the trash before pulling you into his arms, right where you belong the closest to his heart. "don't cut yourself like that again, okay?"

"it was an accident, baby." he chuckles, and you just roll your eyes. he reaches over to ruffle your hair affectionately and makes a joke about having you suck his blood like a vampire, tooting about how sweet it would be. "besides, i don't need to be careful if you're there to patch me up, pretty. shoko has nothing on you!"

he plays with your hair as you catch him up to the conversations he'd slept away; mei mei had left early when you'd given him your jacket to envelope him in your scent, muttering something about cheap perfume and worthless soggy noodles. he likes to play with your jewelry, you notice— fiddles with the ring on your finger, cupping your hands in his palm as he tucks his face into the back of your neck.

at one point, he asks you to do his hair, so you oblige, rolling him over onto his stomach and clambering on top of his waist. you braid his white strands into cute little pigtails best as you could manage as he tells you about his dream; something about harassing nanami in malaysia and a sunset kiss under crystal clear beach water. it sounds nice, and when you're done with his hair you find it easier to just massage his shoulders and listen to the smooth droning of his voice.

soon enough, you're both warmer than the lukewarm buzz of beer in your veins, and he doesn't remember if he fell asleep first or not, but the gentle melody of your voice haunts him in his dazed sleep as he curls around you.

business dinners really are exhausting— he's left wondering how you pull it off the morning after when he's hungover and the cut on his finger is infected— clearly, the hello kitty bandaid wasn't enough to cut it. the only reasoning that he explains to you as you take your morning shower together, fingers running through your hair, is that you didn't kiss it enough. maybe that's why his soup had too much pepper and he didn't know how to cut the cucumbers.

he's still an amateur, so he'll leave the cooking to you. maybe next time he'll pretend the takeout he grabbed on his way home from school was handmade, though he doubts his friends will ever believe him, or his students after he demands they buy him kikufuku as compensation for leaving him out the night before.

ignore the ep that came out today! everyone’s alive and well. trust my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !

[jeonsupershy]

1 year with FML Thank you for reminding us that we are worthy of fighting for the life we desire🤍

[jazzzzzzhands]

A quick Color Challenge for a day of lovey loooove!! Men DESERVE flowers and LOVE

[suntails]

so like @memoryoflife gave me quite possibly the best comm ever

[rainymoodlet]

rowan’s last two braincells eking out the idea that this is probably the house of the vampire that attacked him. 👏

[matchalovertrait]

Noemí and Erick have started to work out a little bit. With their 40s around the corner, they want to make sure they live long, healthy lives!

[elmleif]

Happy Birthday, Morning! 🌻

[mishapen-moth]

i <3 unsleeping city

i've been telling saf (hi @to-be-a-dreamer ily bestie) i was gonna post my art for months, so uh. this is me actually doin it. have at it gang.

[forgottenarthur]

50. Writer's preference - "And what if it is not you?"

The barb stung and Arthur turned away as quickly as if she had struck him.

These walks had become something of a tradition between the Prince and former Princess over the rolling weeks. With the out of doors near unpassable, Arthur's mornings had shifted to a shorter indoor practice before dawn, followed by a brief repast and then a stroll through the Orangery with the Lady Aria. Though they still argued as often as they didn't, there was something free and flowing in these conversations -- a strange sense that no subject was off limits...And that every single one was somehow taboo. It was perhaps true that they had each been raised as royalty, but it seemed their worlds could not have been more different.

Today, the subject had fallen to that all-encompassing theme of his life, the most pressing topic in the empire, and the one least likely ever to be openly addressed: Roderick's line of succession. It was an ache in his gut, this, a hill he had run up all his childhood only to find a sheer rockface confronting him. Now, scrambling for footholds in the brutal cliffside, it was a race to the top against those he loved most -- a climb now far too high to risk the drop. It was success or the death of all meaning. But what was he to do? Throw his siblings from the sides? They too held on by meager fingertips and he could not bear to think of them dashed against the teeth of the unforgiving stone so far below.

Arthur's jaw clenched. He kept her pace, but he no longer looked at her as she spoke; heard her only as if from a great distance. What was there to say? Yet, her last words burned, searing like vinegar in his cuts, and he turned sharply towards her, a rush sounding in his head.

"What? You favor someone else?" he demanded, all effort at bluster or calm stripped away. Surprise seemed to register in his face and, pressing his eyes shut, he shook his head, realizing she meant this only as rhetoric and, with a look of defeat, he sighed; shook his head. "How should I know? It would be the end for me."

He didn't look at her, now, gaze straying upwards towards the gently nodding trees, branches heavy and sagging with fruit. He thought of the tart-sweet of them, tawny and opening with a kind of crack. Fibrous chambers of juice attended the tiny seeds at the center and this, then, was life. Even trees limned their children with sweet cushions against the harsh reality of the world around them. When he laughed, it was a bitter sound.

Sighing, Arthur shook his head. "Aria, I--" but he stopped. He'd not said her name so baldly before and he gestured, helpless, voice trapped within his throat.

Her eyes were dark: not mere chocolate, but something else as if the sea had leaked into them and tossed against stormy shores within her mind. Her face was set, but he could not read it. He searched for something written there, something designed for him to read: he wanted it. He knew the message he wished to read. A very simple message. He wanted to read it again and again, see it roiling within the storm of her eyes. But there was nothing. She was no harbor. She was, perhaps, another deathly drop.

Aria lifted her chin. "Go on."

"I don't know what will happen if my father chooses someone else any more than you do. But I do know I will be a threat to whoever is chosen, simply for having been in the running, and..."

And if it were Edmund who were selected, whom Arthur regarded as the most likely alternative, he would not expect to long outlive his father -- or even his father's choice. Enemies of the House of Calainon had a way of disappearing. Arthur was not altogether certain they even lifted a finger: they were witches, after all. Likely, all they needed do was wish for a thing, and their dark magic did the rest. Edmund might not wish him gone, perhaps...but Amira would not hesitate. He could not help but think that would make for a horrible ending, all the demons of hell rising at her command. His would be a silent end, he had no doubt, yet he knew, too, that if it were by Amira's hand, he would die howling.

If Aria had said something else, Arthur had not heard it. At last, she said: "And what if the Emperor doesn't choose? What happens to us all, then?"

Arthur stopped short, and Aria beside him. "Then it'd be war."

He walked out without another word.

[eatingsomegreeneggos]

Femslash February Day 11: Future - Bubbline

I don't know too much Adventure Time lore so I have no idea if they're actually able to age or not but I wanted to see them older really badly!

[juls-art]

" I was Born to Glide!" gotta love that spunky purple dragon, Spyro 🤙 -- ONE MORE SECTION TO GO!! drop me some magenta or pink characters in the comments/tags to pick from! 🦩 -- Kofi | Patreon    

[bluepallilworld]

Smthn that I noticed alot on ur art is having a dark background with a very bright accent color (which look amazing btw) dunno if this will be helpful or not lol

@dragon-tamer-1

Thanks for the sweet words and reviews! ❤️❤️❤️

Now after many thoughts, here's the result:

[dailyashleighraichu]

Did the kiddos! Kinda simplified the hair for all of them cause I have trouble drawing hair. Besides that, made Joule’s ear markings bigger and added one to her tail to look similar to her siblings’ redesigns, and gave Coro and Taima little scarves along with some other edits!

OH GOODNESS THEY LOOK SO FREAKIN CUTE!!!

I'm so sorry that Taima and Joule's hair is hard to draw, it will happen again LMAO

I really love the colors on Taima! I know when I first designed her, I had a hard time implementing shiny Pikachu with shiny Dewott, but you did it so wonderfully, I really really like it!

AND THEIR FLUFF, OH MY GOODNESS, YOU HIT MY WEAKSPOT!!! I also love how Joule has little cheek fluff to match her siblings' whiskers, very nice touch!

[venjamin-kingdomhearts]

I have an idea, but I don't know if it fits the 2000< requirement, but what about Ventus talking to Roxas about his time in daybreak town and how alone he used to feel?

OK hello first off. THANK YOU for the prompt!! I kinda. branched off from what was asked a bit cause i got ✨ Inspired ✨ SO I hope you enjoy regardless! I also got another prompt from @/fangirling-heart that I'm working on SO in case they see this 👋🏻 hi! That one will probably be a LOT shorter. If anyone else is interested in throwin some ideas my way check out this post and then feel free to hit me up in my inbox 💚 No beta, only one or two re-reads, so if there's any mistakes here... pretend you didn't see them LOL Summary: Roxas is sent on a quest into Ventus' dreams, and makes a new (?) friend Word Count: 2892 Relationship: Roxas & Ventus (friendship)

Others had volunteered to go there, to the space where the Sleeping Realm and individual Dreamscapes met, but in the end, Ventus had chosen Roxas to investigate his dreams.  Not Terra or Aqua, nor “literally-a-Dream-Eater” Riku, but Roxas. Sure, he wasn’t alone -- this experiment required a Dream Eater to accompany him, so Sora’s Meow Wow was by Roxas’ side -- but he’d been picked by Ventus above anyone else to literally walk into his mind and look around. Him! They hadn’t even been friends for that long, with the battle against Xehanort having been just over a year ago, yet here Roxas was, standing on the edge of Ventus’ subconscious mind, petting his Dream Eater companion.

“. . . I don’t know if he’s really dreaming yet,” Roxas admitted. “This is dark. Ventus’ dreams can’t be dark.”

The “world” around Roxas currently was nothing but an odd black void. There was no true ground, nor walls, nor sky, which was all a bit disorienting. But there was something beneath Roxas’ feet, or else he and Meow Wow would be drifting off somewhere. Roxas chose to focus on that feeling of standing, ‘cause he was pretty sure if he didn’t, he might feel so disconnected from this reality that he really could drift away.

Roxas had a job to do. He couldn’t let himself get too intimidated by all… this.

This was to help Ventus recover the memories he’d lost, that were apparently buried so deep than even Naminé and the scientists working in the Radiant Gardens couldn’t reach without some help. Admittedly, Ventus wasn’t really gung-ho about remembering anything (apparently the last time he’d touched his forgotten memories, the migraine he’d been left with was enough to make him scream), but he had to put that fear aside for the good of the mission.

(Of course, Ventus had still been scared. An hour prior, he’d been laid down in a hospital bed and told that he’d be put to sleep. That’s not exactly easy for someone who’d spent 12 years in a magical coma to chew. Certainly not someone who’d developed insomnia because of the fear he might fall into another decade-long sleep. Ventus was clearly miserable, but it was getting to the point that Ventus’ memories might be the missing key to finding Sora after his disappearance a year prior. Ventus may have been scared, but when it came to Sora… he’d do almost anything to help him.)

(Roxas remembered catching a glimpse of Ventus holding Terra’s and Aqua’s hands tight as Dr. Even and Ienzo prepared the sleeping spell Ventus would be put under. The magic was distributed to Ventus as if it was anesthesia, as a clunky plastic dome had to be put over his nose and mouth. Roxas and Meow Wow had watched from behind glass doors as Ventus’ chest heaved slower, as his eyes grew heavier, until finally his hands went limp and Aqua pressed a kiss to his forehead.)

Roxas had 24 hours. That’s how deep the spell was. Hopefully he’d be able to get a good lead sooner than that, but he had a lot of leeway. Okay. Ventus and the others were counting on him… especially since Ventus wouldn’t be able to wake up until Roxas and Meow Wow were outta his head. 

“...C’mon, Meow Wow,” Roxas whispered, standing up straight and taking another good look at the empty space before him. “We’ve gotta find where Ven’s dreams are. Or… something.”

“Meowf!” Meow Wow barked, and Roxas couldn’t help but laugh. 

With that, their mission officially began. They walked off into the darkness, steps echoing as though they were walking on glass. It really was unsettling, but Roxas kept his nerves under wraps. What an interesting place this was, this time between sleep and dreams. Mysterious. Dark. But not too cold.

Slowly, some semblance of color and light began to seep into the world. Ventus’ dream began forming, and suddenly Roxas was inside the Land of Departure’s castle. Of course, things weren’t even close to being a perfect recreation. The stained glass windows weren’t symmetrical, and the colors of their glass kept shifting, meanwhile some of the thrones making up the throne room were replaced with bean-bag chairs. It was almost like looking at one of those “spot the difference” puzzles, as dream-oddities popped up left and right to add differences between reality and dream.   

Okay, this is definitely a Ven-dream, Roxas thought as a small herd of numbered sheep crossed a distant hallway. Meow Wow went up to sniff them, but that just frightened a majority of them into running into the throne room. 

“Meow Wow! Over here, buddy!” Roxas called. “Those aren’t Tama Sheep. Don’t bother them!”

Meow Wow waddled back to Roxas’ side, sniffing his shoes. Meanwhile, Roxas gave the room another look-around. Okay, now he just had to… find anything that might not belong. Anything that could be a hint to where Sora was, or something from Ventus’ past. Anything Naminé could use as a branching-off point. 

He chose me for this. Ventus chose me, ‘cause he trusts me to see all this.

Honestly? That was still a pretty big deal. There was a chance Roxas could come across anything here, even stuff Ventus wanted to keep a secret. It was a bit more responsibility than Roxas really wanted, but at the same time, being picked out at the one to take care of all this was oddly flattering. It was ike Roxas was being handed a part of Ventus no one else had access to.

(“It… kinda came down to you or Xion,” Ventus had admitted before he’d been put under. “You two… I mean, I know we’re not all connected in the same way, but I know you guys would understand if you saw anything weird, in my head.”)

(Ventus had taken a shaky breath, trying to get his thoughts to words. Eventually, he just settled on smiling up at Roxas, and thanking him.)

(“I know you’d be the best fit. You’re the best at figuring out stuff like this. If anyone could find out what secrets I’m hiding, it’d be the guy who always calls me out for lying, eheh!” Ventus laughed and gave Roxas’ arm a light punch. “Just promise you’ll… stay with me, when you get back, if I’m still sleeping. I don’t… wanna wake up all alone.”) 

Roxas took note of a sheep labeled ‘7’ sniffing around the thrones/bean-bags at the north of the room. Number 9 was lying under the shifting stained glass window, while sheeps #3 and #14 were munching on a patch of grass that had spawned on top of wood flooring. Meanwhile, one of the dream-sheeps decided that Roxas was of interest, and approached to nuzzle his leg.

“...Course. Number 13.”

Roxas gave the animal a gentle pat on the head. Okay, if all the sheep are numbered… maybe this is a test. You count sheep to get to sleep, don’t you? So….

“Great. All the sheep are outta order,” Roxas muttered. “Maybe we should--”

“GO AWAY!”

Oathkeeper and Oblivion appeared in Roxas’ hands reflexively.

Who the hell was that? Roxas thought, sending Meow Wow a glance. The Dream Eater had its back arched, growling lightly and staring ahead at one of the unchanged thrones across the room. Roxas crouched down, ready to stealth his way across the room. 

Meanwhile, the mystery voice snapped again:

“Get outta here! L-leave me alone!”

Sheep #7 gave a startled “baa!” as it dove past Roxas, who was already on his way towards the center throne. This voice wasn’t one he recognized right away, so Roxas’ first thought was Nightmare, though he couldn’t sense any Darkness lurking around the corner. Regardless, Roxas snuck up to the chair, while Meow Wow prepared a bouncing attack.

On three, we attack. One, two--

Roxas held his blades tight, listening for that mystery voice. He could hear some light breathing, so unless this was a trick of Ven’s mind, something had to be hiding behind that throne.

Three!

Without a sound, Roxas dove out from his hiding spot, Keyblades in hand. He didn’t make any move to strike, not yet, but he did hold his Keyblades offensively, ready for whatever he found--

“A--ahh!” 

--well, he certainly wasn’t ready to realize he had Oblivion raised in the face of a child. 

The boy yelped again, raising his arms to cover his head. Roxas felt his heart drop past his stomach, to his feet. That was a kid! That was an actual child! For a moment, all Roxas could do was freeze.

“Please-- don’t hurt me!” The child cried out. “I-I didn’t do nothin’!”

Roxas had never seen a child before, not really. Not this close.

Actually, Roxas hadn’t even been one himself. A Nobody came to life the same age their Somebody had been, and with Roxas’ strange state of being, that meant he couldn’t even remember what it’d been like to be any younger than 16. So to see someone so young (Roxas didn’t really have a great judge of age, but this boy was younger than a teenager) with blonde hair the same style as Roxas’ own, and big green eyes that reminded Roxas of Ven, was a bit disorienting.

Oblivion shook in Roxas’ hand, and he lowered the blade.

“Please, please, please…” the blonde child whimpered. “Don’t… don’t hurt me….”

In two flashes of light, Oblivion and Oathkeeper vanished. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

The child didn’t seem convinced.

Alright, off to a great start already, Roxas thought sarcastically. He took a breath and a knee, holding his hands up in surrender, to show he wasn’t making any moves to lash out. The mysterious child looked between him and Meow Wow suspiciously, then scooted back. He’d been hiding behind this throne, hadn’t he? Poor thing.

(Funny, how the throne he’d hid behind was the dream’s reflection of the chair Ventus had slept on for 12 years….)

“Hi,” Roxas started simply. “I’m Roxas. Sorry I scared you; I thought you were a monster.”

Was he doing this right? Kneeling down to be at eye level, keeping his voice soft and being honest. Was that how people talked to children? Roxas licked his bottom lip in thought, furrowing his brows. Meanwhile, the little boy hugged himself tighter, glaring up at Roxas.

“Monster? I’m not a monster! I’m just… me. ‘M just Ventus.”

Roxas’ eyes went wide. “Ventus?”

“Umm...m’yeah?” 

Of course. That explained the resemblance. Roxas felt something odd stir up in his heart. This kid… was Ventus. Or at least, who Ventus had been, as a child. Roxas had never been a kid, and Ventus had no memory of his past. So to see someone so young wearing the same face they shared was odd. It almost felt like looking at a stranger, and the feeling reminded Roxas of what it was like to meet Sora for the first time, and realize “this is who I used to be a part of?”

“Ventus,” Roxas echoed. “You’re Ventus.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” the child affirmed, before he suddenly grew defensive. “I’m-- wait! You-- you’re gonna make fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Make fun of you? Why would I--’

“Because everyone does. All the Big Kids, in the other Unions!” That look of fear the child had been wearing earlier was quickly replaced by an angry pout. “W-well, I’ve had it! If you’re gonna try anything….”

The child lifted his hand, and in a flash of light, summoned a Keyblade Roxas hadn’t seen in a while.

“Missing Ache?”

“That’s right! If you’re gonna be mean to me, or call me names, or anything, I’ll fight you! I’ll… I’ll….” 

But as quickly as the determination had come, the fire began to fade. The young boy’s lip trembled, and Missing Ache grew heavy in his hand. The boy scooted back, pulled his knees to his chest, and became shy once more. He didn’t say anything, didn’t raise Missing Ache again, he just hid his face and hugged himself with one arm.

. . .Oh.

Roxas felt a rush of something between pity and affection. He had to put aside how weird this was (but it was a dream! Dreams are meant to be weird!). Roxas bit his bottom lip, trying to plot out how to go about this. A kid… what was he supposed to say to a scared little kid?

Well, he should be gentler than the Organization XIII members were to him when he joined. That was the closest he’d ever been to being a child, so it was his one point of reference. The only other experience he’d had was seeing Peter Pan’s lost boys playing from a distance, or being harassed by Locke, Shock, and Barrel in Halloween Town. But Roxas wasn’t sure he could count any of that as actual experience taking care of a kid. 

“. . . It’s. Nice to meet you. Ventus.” Roxas took a moment to let that name settle. To let that identity settle.“I’m here on a mission. I’m looking around this drea-- this place with my friend, Meow Wow.”

The “Little Ventus” didn’t react with the same excitement real Ventus would’ve. He just peeked up, looking from Roxas to Meow Wow. Roxas watched as the little boy’s brow furrowed, before his eyes lit up with recognition.

“A Dream Eater?”

“That’s right. How’d ya know…?”

Before Little Ventus could answer, Meow Wow bounced up eagerly. The little boy held his arms out, sitting cross-legged, as if opening up to give Meow Wow a hug.

“Bwarf! Mrreowf!” Meow Wow leapt onto Little Ventus, giving him a ton of slobbery “kisses”. Despite his previous hesitance, Little Ventus laughed. It seemed the focus keeping Missing Ache by his side was diverted, so the strange Keyblade returned to light, while Little Ventus pressed his face into Meow Wow’s fur.

“Smells like cotton candy….”

“Haha… yeah,” Roxas said, scooting a tad closer. “I think Meow Wow just had a bath too, so his fur is extra soft.”

Roxas rested a gentle hand on top of the Dream Eater’s blue fur as if to demonstrate. Little Ventus watched shyly. Roxas tried to keep a small smile on his face as he pet the cat-dog, hoping that maybe he could earn the child’s trust by showing that Meow Wow trusted them both. Green eyes followed Roxas’ hand…until eventually, a small hand joined him in stroking through the Dream Eater’s fur.

“You’re right!” Little Ventus’ voice was an eager gasp. “So soft….”

Roxas felt a smile tug at his lips, but he said nothing. Maybe it was nerves, or just his quieter nature coming out. He tended to let Ventus fill the air when the two of them were together. Guess that instinct kicked in around Little Ventus, too. The two sat in silence for a moment, while Meow Wow began to purr.

Little Ventus gasped. “Just like Chirithy!” 

“Right. Just like Chirithy.”

“...Roxas.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s your name, right? It’s weird. I’ve never met a Roxas before!”

“Well I don’t know many other people named Ventus,” Roxas smirked. “Only the one….”

“W-well, that just means I’m u-unique.” Little Ventus mispronounced the word as if it rhymed with “quiche”, and that made Roxas laugh. “Hey! What’s so funny? You said you weren’t gonna make fun of me!”

“I’m not! I’m not, I just… I think Ventus is a nice name. Weird. But nice.”

Little Ventus huffed, and Roxas had to hold back another laugh. Were all kids this… funny? Was that the word? Roxas didn’t know how to describe this. He just felt happy, in a very curious way. 

“Well, I guess Roxas isn’t a bad name, either. Weird. But… not bad.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!”

Another moment of silence, but there was something warmer to it. By now, Meow Wow’s tail was wagging so hard, it was thumping against the floor. 

“Are you a cat or a dog?” Little Ventus asked the Dream Eater. “Anyways… what Union are you in?”

…? Was Little Ventus talking to Meow Wow, or--?

“Hello? Roxaaas. Roxas! What Union are you in?”

“Union? Uh. None?” Roxas shrugged. “I don’t really know what you mean.”

“You don’t have a Union?! Like some… some wanderer?” Little Ventus leaned over Meow Wow as if the pet were a pillow, and he didn’t seem to mind. “Well, I’m in the Leopardus Union! And I’m the fastest member there. Honest!”

Roxas chuckled. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm!” Little Ventus was looking more eager by the second. “I’m gonna be the best runner in Daybreak Town! Faster than the wind!”

Roxas had a feeling there was a bit of a story to this. He also had a feeling that it’d be a lot of work convincing Meow Wow to leave this spot. It looked like they’d have to put a ‘pin’ in their mission for now.

…Well, Roxas did have 23 hours before Ventus would have to wake up. Maybe he could spend a little longer in this dream, not just to figure out more, but to keep this forgotten part of Ven company. He’d promised Ventus he wouldn’t leave him alone… and that applied to all parts of Ventus. Even the ones that were exceptionally well-hidden.

“Tell me all about it,” Roxas said gently. “I’d be happy to listen.”

 ‘Cause that’s what a good friend does.

[rainymoodlet]

Kiss Me in Komorebi+ 🌸

[ Second Vacation: Keaton! ]

What better way to end the night than with your mom’s special recipe for asado and testing the waters of what cuddling on the couch might feel like? 👀 These two are very flirtatious, and maintained a steady Flirty moodlet almost the entire night.

There’s a subtle ease in their interactions, a comfortability in their joking, flirtatious vibe: maybe it’s being outside of the pressure of the house and it’s gaggle of contestants, but Keaton’s had no problem letting Daniel know just how interested in him he is!

Part 3 of 6 🌹

@duusheen