#takes some thought when you're making it Much Longer Horizontally

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

been working on a nowhere-near-complete design of beast!ricky for an AU where he's an asshole wizard who's been cursed, and i like it so far, so have a sketch in case it disappears into my WIP folder for eons. it started out as a toa changeling AU design (because they're fun to make and it was bound to happen sooner or later), and then recently my furry monsterfucker ass decided to take it further and make it into its own thing. not least because toa changelings don't tend to have coats and beafte ricky needs to be Fluffy

it's been fun so far trying to translate things like his body type onto a different framework without losing the integrity of Him Shapes, and i'm both dreading and looking forward to doing the same for a fantasy setting version of his outfit. (i am so bad at outfit design. i am So Fucking Bad at it. but by god i'll do it for him)

[josephslittledeputy]

WIP... Oh shit, its actually Wednesday??

Tagged by @wrathfulrook @clicheantagonist @marivenah @cassietrn @the-silver-chronicles @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat and I thiiiiink that's it... sorry if you've tagged me & you're not on here, its been a hot minute since I've posted a wip wednesday & my memory is basically Swiss cheese

Tagging anyone who wants to self indulgently share a WIP! Feel free to tag me, I love to read new stuff :)

**Also terribly sorry in advance cause this turned out to be a bit longer than I thought it would be**

WIP 1: OG Verse - fun times with Celeste & Gabriel

He has to resist the urge to throttle her, lest he ruin the inside of his house filled with years of carefully handpicked items, ones he held a certain fondness for. "You ruined my life, Celeste. Or do you not recall?” "Your life?" She tilts her head in mock curiosity. "What life? The one where you were sent anywhere they told you to go, like some mongrel with a barely slackened leash?" “Excuse me?" “We can pretend otherwise. Keep up the illusion that your life was marvelous, picture perfect even. But we both know the truth, don't we?" She takes a step closer. “You were nothing but the High Council’s defanged pup. Cluelessly doing their bidding before I freed you. If anything, you should be thanking me." "Thanking you?" He clenches and unclenches his fist in an attempt to suppress his anger. "Hate me if you must, fight me even, but do it later. Right now we must get out of here. If they do not know where I am yet, they soon will. What do you think will happen once they realize one of their precious dhamphirs has been under their nose this whole time?"

Celeste truly is the nicest individual you'll ever meet :))

Including this little snippet from Gabriel's pov as well cause idk, I just really like it

Unbidden worry strikes him. He listens, waits, and when his ears pick up the sound of soft, even breathing he lets out a breath of his own. Celeste and the baby were still there, unharmed, perhaps even sleeping. It brings an odd sense of comfort, reminiscent of times long forgotten, times he didn’t want to remember. If he did, he’d have to remember what brought them to a halt in the first place and he had a job to do. Grief and old wounds had no place here, at least not at the moment. Kicking his boots off, he treks into the bathroom and gently closes the door behind him. It’s a simple design: Shower to his left, toilet to his right, and a sink with a mirror above it directly across from the door. Leaning against the sink, he ruffles his short, black hair that's shaved on the sides and traces his fingers over an old, faded scar. It runs down almost the whole length of his face, going over his left eye and stopping just shy of the corner of his mouth. Overlapping it is another, only this one goes across his face horizontally, over the bridge of his nose and from cheek to cheek. The only thing that remains of the old Gabriel are his blue eyes, once full of life and mischief, now faded and dull. Turning away from his visage, he heads toward the shower and turns it on, stripping down while he waits for the water to heat up. He doesn’t need a mirror to see the multitude of scars and tattoos that adorn his body. Aching for another drink—if only to dull his senses and lingering memories once more—he curbs the yearning and steps beneath the water.

WIP 2: They Watch From The Pews

Willa squirms, trying to dodge cold fingers that reach out to trace over the letters, caressing them with a sadistic fascination that makes her stomach curdle in disgust. Disgust quickly transforms into a desperation to get away once he finally reveals the knife kept hidden behind his back. “Usually I’d peel the sin off but… I think this will suit you much better, don't you?" Pressing the tip of his blade into her skin, he teasingly drags it across her skin. "Tell me, Deputy, how did you feel when you got the news of Samuel's death?" "Chipper." She spitefully answers with a sneer. John heaves a dramatic sigh and presses the blade down harder, prompting tiny beads of blood to bubble up as he traces over the letters of her tattoo. "You can make this easier for yourself, you know." "I've heard that before. Got me a bullet to the leg." "Because you ran. My men only acted accordingly." "Fuck you and your men, pussy." "My, what a mouth on you." He tuts and makes a deeper cut. Her teeth sink into the leather in her mouth, denying him the satisfaction of hearing her make a noise. Without pause, he moves onto the second letter, brows scrunched up in concentration as he goes over the lines again and again. It isn’t until he’s on the last letter that she finally breaks with a muffled groan. He stops, lifting his eyes from his work. “Comfortable?”

John & Willa are bonding so well. Truly, I think they're starting to get along!

[k00299539]

Animation Brief 01 - Week 2 - Parallax Background

Above: Snufkin just chillin

Putting together a full parallaxed background was the biggest individual step in our "World Building" brief, which is why I kept putting it off. I was told by Yvonne that the work had to be produced physically before being digitally composited, for someone who hates painting this was bad news.

I guess like always, the first step was research and gathering reference. I chose Tove Jansson as my artist-to-emulate which proved a bit of a headache in itself. Jansson was prolific and diverse, working with different styles in different mediums regularly in her seven decades long career. A lot of my favourite works of hers are simple black ink on white paper illustrations. But mimicking that style would've gone against the spirit of the project.

I decided to buy a beginners set of gouache paint for a tenner and try to emulate her painted work, the likes of which can be seen on the covers for her children's books. I'd never used gouache before so I don't really know what I was thinking, other than that I knew I was sick of acrylic. Anyway, the first step was a sketch.

Above: Yeah not much going on...

Honestly looking back on this I probably should have spent more time drafting a good composition and actually thinking through the shot I was intending to make. It's not that I didn't give it any thought, just that when you're on a tight schedule and commit to an idea, you're stuck with it. The longer I worked on this project the less I liked it, a bit more foresight at the beginning could've helped prevent that. Ah well.

The composition I went with was a combination of a couple of my landscape sketches. I decided with my "mini-me" limited to being shot from the shoulder up, a horizontal parallax would work best. Basically a simple side-scrolling shot, like holding a camera out a car window. I took the forest backdrop from Cratloe Woods, the classic Irish dry-stone wall from the farm, and I threw in some road signs (and Snufkin) for a bit of fun. The only problem was now I had to paint it...

Above: A real Artíst's palette...

I had no idea how to use gouache. I even used the regular ass paper from my sketchook which was probably a mistake considering the number the water did on it. I started out dampening the paper a bit before going over the major areas with a wash of an approximate colour. You can really tell I worked left to right on the wall because it gets slightly less shitting as your eyes pan across it. The wall was great fun in general, basically just laying down shadows, darkening the crevices and building up the tone. I think I overworked it looking back, although that's true for the painting in general.

Above: Cameos

Don't have much to say about these sketches, I was working fast and trying to have fun with them while keeping in Jansson's style. Also if it's not obvious I take all these photos at night when there's no natural light cause I'm stupid...

Above: Ignore the giant pile of rubbish, I cleaned it up after I promise

At first I really wasn't happy with the treeline in my first painting so I tested out some ideas on another sheet. I liked how it turned out, and I was thinking of incorporating it into the animation, but as the trees are the furthest element in the composition, they will move the least in the parallax shot, making it a bit infeasible. I did reuse the bushes as a foreground element though.

The next step was a tedious one, scan the water-warped paintings on my shitty scanner, disassemble them in Photoshop and stitch the edges as to make them tileable. Honestly I actually enjoy this kind of tedious Photoshop work, I just hated my painting and the shot in general so having to look at them over and over wasn't exactly fun.

Anyway, having made liberal use of the offset filter in Photoshop I had all the layers cut and tileable and ready to import into After Effects. I kind of suck at After Effects so this took longer than it should have. I tried to create the parallax effect in an old school manner by parenting all the layers together and setting a keyframe on their position, and adjusting their start position individually to control the speed at which each layer scrolled. Sounds easy.

I wasn't. Apparently I can't parent properly cause it was anarchy trying to control the speed of the individual layers. Eventually I just watched a Youtube tutorial and used that guy's method, creating a new camera and parenting everything to a null object, then moving the individual layers back in z-space to create the parallax effect as the camera pans.

I'm tired as I write this and I'm unsure how intelligible it is. Here's the horses mouth explaining things if you want to watch for yourselves:

The worst part is after all that it's still just a rough composite. Even beyond the obvious absence of my mini-me, there's a lot of problems in regards to the speed of the individual layers, the foreground elements look more like they're moving on a treadmill than receding in space. A particular cardinal sin I committed was not matching the speed of the grounded elements to the ground on which they're well, grounded.

Anyway I can fix all that later, I'm just sick of looking at it for now.

[balkanradfem]

Alright so, and I promise this is funny, I have been dealing with severe deficiency in 'making plants grow successfully'. It's going worse than any year but I'm also having a lot of fun with it, because I'm no longer discouraged by baby plants dying, I'm already germinating the next batch and I know I'll be just fine.

This year's weather has been so nice, gardening wise! We didn't have a crazy hot February like the last few years, it's been very frosty in fact, so that the trees didn't flower too soon and I love that for us, that is the promise of fruit, and also making me feel a bit more at ease that the weather, for now, isn't hectic.

The middle of March was nice and sunny, and I felt encouraged to put my baby plants outside, just for an hour or so every day, so they would get used to direct sunlight. I also noticed some of my baby plants turning purple, and I thought, AHA! Nitrogen deficiency, I can fix this by fertilizing them, so I did, a bit too much maybe, because 3 days later half of my tomatoes, and a bunch of other plants sadly died. Some of the plants actually showed signs of getting burned by the sun, but only after the 3rd day they were outside! You're telling me sun was fine for 2 days but then the 3rd day it was just too bright and you had to expire??

Some of the plants that did well initially, also ended up outside when it was, a bit more windy than they could handle. And I wasn't even home, by the time I got home, the plants were already lying horizontally, unable to fight the violent weather.

And this is funny because I take all of these risks every single year and I never had this many of them pan out badly, and never had this amount of seedlings die, but truth be told I do plant too many tomatoes every single year and I should maybe tone it down, 70% of my meals are tomato based at this point (it's so easy to conserve), and I should focus more on some beans and pumpkins.

So anyway, since seedlings are not vibing, I finally gather my senses to go to the actual garden one day, because I'm thinking, there will be cabbage savoy there, and spinach probably grew a bit by now, maybe I can have some fresh spinach! Maybe swiss chard grew and I could eat that, maybe there's a carrot that germinated and would make me happy.

So I bike to the garden and as soon as I get there I realize that everything I was hoping to harvest just went to seed. Two weeks I've been too sick and dealing with medical issues, and I couldn't check on the garden, and 2 days of warm temperatures and everything said bYE and went to make seeds?? The rapid change took me completely by surprise, I didn't think things would go to seed while we still had frosts. I stubbornly picked the cabbage deciding to just eat the little flowerbuds and leaves anyway, the flowers didn't open yet so with a bit more prep time, it's all edible. My spinach went to seed as well, the traitor. It's March!!!

As discouraging as all of this sounds, this is incredible for learning, because now I know that every single thing on this list has a good chance of happening this time of year, and I'll be able to make better choices next time. In fact, if all of this didn't happen now, it would probably happen any year from now on and I wouldn't be ready or expecting it. Next time I'll get all those cabbages before the sun touches them. I'll try growing spinach in the fall when it won't go to seed as easy, and I'll think twice before taking 3-4 risks at once with baby seedlings.

The baby seedlings who survived all this are the victors who are strong and resilient and probably can't be killed by any of my bad choices. Even if I have slightly less plants, I'll have the most powerful plants. The last batch I've planted seems to be growing rapidly, because the weather is light and warm now, and I've planted some flowers I've never had before! I'll have tansy on my garden, for the first time ever.

[catwithyellowwings]

Brett Talbot x fem!reader

Please be gentle, this is my first story. English is not my native language. I'm still learning it, so there's probably a bunch of mistakes 🙈

"Can you not make a face for a minute?" looking at the resulting photo with displeasure, Y/N was indignant. "You've already ruined so many frames".

"Come on," Talbot replied, looking over her shoulder at the results of their almost half-hour work. "Look, this one is fine, in my opinion, it turned out. It's not all the same to be with a rotten mine as on the documents." girl just rolled her eyes at this phrase. "And why are you worried about spoiled shots? You're not shooting on a film camera."

"Let's try again on the horizontal bars," Y/N switched the camera to the "shooting" mode and headed to the right place, ignoring Brett's comment. "There, you will no longer be up to fooling around."

"And how do you want to photograph me there, love?" gently clasping Y/N by the waist when they reached the place, guy whispered in her ear. This action provoked a wave of goosebumps on the body of his beloved, forcing her to take a short sharp breath, after which she turned to face him. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private? I think there will also be some very interesting places to shoot there."

"We'll still have time to get to a more private place," Y/N said, meeting his green-blue eyes, maintaining a playful mood. "You definitely won't get away from this." hearing this, Brett broke into a satisfied smile and hugged his beloved closer to him. "In the meantime, let's finish our business here first."

Finally, pecking him on the lips, Y/N got out of the ring of hugs, preparing the camera for work. They spent another good fifteen minutes filming behind various sports equipment. Y/N even managed to enjoy Talbot's half-naked appearance when, for several series of photos, he took off his T-shirt, throwing it on a bench nearby.

"Wow, you're so photogenic," she said after taking another frame, once again evaluating the result of their joint work. "Have you ever thought of becoming a model?"

"And have everyone stare at me like I'm some kind of weirdo? Nah," Brett waved off, standing behind her again and wrapping his arms around her waist. This pose was his favorite when they were together. Thus, he not only held Y/N in his arms, at the same time showing everyone that this girl was busy with him, but also covered her most vulnerable place so that no one attacked her from behind. Besides, this way he had access to Y/N's hair, the fragrance of which the guy liked.

"Don't you want too much attention to yourself?" Y/N was surprised, glancing at the guy behind her. "I thought it would flatter you at least.

"They are not you," he gently pressed her to him, and left a small kiss on Y/N's temple. "I don't need someone else's attention, I just need yours."

"Smooth talker," the girl grinned, but still leaned back slightly into his embrace. "But I'm glad to hear it. I don't want to share you with anyone."

"Oh, so it turns out you're a jealous mode?" Talbot grinned with satisfaction, lightly tickling Y/N under the ribs. "That good to know."

They spent the next few minutes discussing the resulting photos. The best of them were to replenish the portfolio of Y/N, who planned to connect her life with photographs. It was her second hobby after music, but that topic was still a sore point for her because of recent bad events in her family.

"I've never seen anyone look cute and ridiculous at the same time," looking at another picture, the girl smiled. "I asked you not to make a face."

"But look how different and lively the photos turned out!" Brett exclaimed, taking the camera for himself and flipping through the results of their work. "You will obviously have a lot to choose from. No one will have such photos for sure," he switched the camera to shooting mode in a few clicks. "So, let's see what kind of model will come out of you."

"Uh, no," Y/N immediately objected and reached out to pick up her thing. However, this did not work out for her, since the guy was a little more than a head taller than her, which he did not dare to take advantage of, causing indignation from his beloved. "I'm not taking pictures of myself, I'm only photographing others. Give me the camera."

"Do you trust me?" Talbot asked, holding the camera at arm's length and raising his eyebrows.

"Brett…"

"Answer me, Y/N/N, do you trust me?" the guy continued to insist and holding the camera out of the girl's reach.

"I trust you," sighing, she admitted after a few seconds of persistent glances. "So?"

"So, let me take a picture of you," Talbot said, looking her straight in the eye. "It's your camera. The pictures will remain with you, you can delete them later if you want. But let's try to switch places for a while? I agreed to pose for you. Please. "

"You're using your puppy dog look again," Y/N noticed, covering his eyes with her palm, and couldn't help but chuckle.

"I'm a werewolf. It's in my blood, you might say," Brett shrugged, removing her palm from the face with his free hand. "Love, let me take a picture of you. You know I won't do anything bad for you."

"You're not going to leave me alone until I let you do it, are you?" after a few seconds of staring, the girl's defense began to crack at the seams from the perseverance of a person who was not indifferent to her. In response, he shook his head and gently ran the knuckle of his index finger along her cheek, which was the last straw. "Only if it's not for long."

"You won't regret it," leaving a short kiss on her lips, the guy said with a smile. "I promise."

"One kiss won't buy you off, Talbot," Y/N said sternly, taking his hand. "You will have to confirm this trust a little later."

"It will be done, sweetheart," understanding her hint, Brett nodded, inwardly rejoicing at the victory and what awaits them both in the evening. But all that will be in the evening, now they face another task. "In the meantime, let's see, maybe we should both go into modeling?"

[catladywriter]

Inotan Fanfic: The Height of Friendship - Chapter 2

Moments of Inadequacy

Synopsis: Inosuke's excitement knew no bounds when he finally surpassed Tanjirou and Zenitsu in height. But a series of incidents lead him to believe that being taller than his companions comes with drawbacks, leaving him feeling left out and dejected. Determined to lift Inosuke's spirits, Tanjirou hatches a plan. Zenitsu is sceptical about the feasibility of the hare-brained scheme, but decides to put friendship before sensibility. Will the plan succeed, or will it backfire?

Main Pairing: Inotan (Inosuke x Tanjirou)

Secondary Pairing: ZenNezu (Zenitsu x Nezuko)

Setting: Canon AU, 3 years after the main story ends

Wordcount: ~9000 words across 3 chapters

Chapters: 1 2 3

Status: Complete. 4th story in the Series: Where the Wisteria Always Bloom.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Zenitsu was determined not to wear the ridiculous footwear that lay before him. He was no fool like Tanjirou. He had resolutely informed his friend that if he wanted to use such a stupid method to please his boyfriend, he would be on his own. But Tanjirou had an uncanny ability to persuade him, and Zenitsu had to give him credit for that. After Tanjirou reminded him of how much Inosuke valued him as a brother, how capable he was, and what a great guy he was, Zenitsu was convinced that putting on these strange sandals couldn't possibly be beneath his capabilities.

Thus, he and Tanjirou practised all night and into the early hours of dawn until they were finally able to wobble around in the tengu geta. Even then, the entire plan was shrouded in uncertainties. Zenitsu could walk steadily now, but it wouldn't take much to throw him off balance. As if on cue, a light breeze swept through the yard, and Zenitsu panicked.

“Eeek! I can’t do this! I’ll fall!” Zenitsu grabbed Tanjirou’s sleeve in desperation.

“Just keep calm and put your weight in the middle,” Tanjirou advised, “and don’t pull me, please. You're making me off-balance.”

“How long do we have to wear these?!” Zenitsu demanded, his tone laced with frustration.

Tanjirou didn't respond, and Zenitsu took that as a bad sign that Tanjirou didn't have a clue either. Nonetheless, they soldiered on, practising their footing as they walked around the yard, trying not to fall over.

Tanjirou's keen sense of smell alerted him to Inosuke's presence in the backyard. He spoke up suddenly, "Inosuke's here." 

Zenitsu quickly straightened himself up, making sure that the hem of his pants was draped over his new footwear, hiding any signs of their artificial elevation. Nezuko had stayed up all night with them, helping them work on their pants. Zenitsu had hoped that Nezuko would talk some sense into her brother, but instead, she had offered to help them lengthen their pants.

Inosuke stood with his arms crossed and a scowl etched on his face, as he watched Tanjirou and Zenitsu slowly make their way towards him. Zenitsu knew Inosuke considered grabbing Tanjirou’s sleeve as his privilege, but what could he do? He was really afraid of falling. That would blow their cover, and the thought of exposing their deception filled him with dread. He knew that if they were discovered, Inosuke would be even angrier than he was now.

However, as they approached Inosuke, his frown turned to surprise when he realized that they were now at eye level with each other. He put his hand horizontally against his own forehead and stretched it out to Tanjirou’s and Zenitsu’s faces as if to check if it was true.

"Same height?" Inosuke exclaimed, his voice tinged with incredulity.

Tanjirou beamed and gestured towards their hems. “Yes! And we’re even wearing longer pants like yours!” 

Inosuke scrutinized them, his intense gaze wandering up and down their bodies. Zenitsu felt his heart pounding in his chest, praying that the hems of their pants had concealed their deception. Suddenly, Inosuke reached out and patted Zenitsu's shoulder with so much force that he almost lost his footing. Zenitsu braced himself, clenching his fists and trying his best to keep his balance.

"Good work! As expected from my underling," Inosuke boomed with his usual bossy demeanour, a wide grin spreading across his face. Zenitsu heaved a sigh of relief, glad that Inosuke had not noticed their trickery.

But then, to Zenitsu's utter horror, Inosuke turned to Tanjirou and grabbed his face, pulling him into a sudden, forceful kiss. As Tanjirou fell forward with a yelp, Zenitsu cringed, averting his eyes and covering his face with his hand. This was a moronic idea doomed to fail, and he knew it from the start. 

To Zenitsu's surprise, he heard Inosuke's voice, excited and full of wonder. “This is amazing!”

Zenitsu cautiously peeked through his fingers and saw Tanjirou in Inosuke’s embrace, having somehow managed to grab onto Inosuke for support when he stumbled forward.

“Uh…yea… weird, isn’t it? We woke up, and just realized we became like that…” Tanjirou stammered. His chin rested on Inosuke's shoulder, and Zenitsu imagined that he must be making his grotesque liar face as he said that. It was just as well that Inosuke could not see it. 

Inosuke grabbed Tanjirou's shoulders and pushed him away so they could face each other eye-to-eye. Tanjirou's face turned a deep shade of red, and Zenitsu noticed him wobbling unsteadily on his geta.

Inosuke dismissed Tanjirou's apparent discomfort. "Doesn't matter as long as we can spar together, share clothes, and I get to kiss you just like before."

As Inosuke planted another kiss on Tanjirou, Zenitsu wobbled away from the stupid couple, questioning his life choices.

*

Making their daily walk to the Wisteria Garden was usually a cheerful affair, but today it felt like an impossible feat. Tanjirou and Zenitsu struggled to keep up with Inosuke's long, confident strides, teetering precariously as they attempted to maintain their balance. Inosuke, who had initially been thrilled with their newfound equal heights, had grown increasingly annoyed with his companions' sluggish pace.

"You two move like snails," he grumbled.

Tanjirou's face turned pink with embarrassment, and Zenitsu could see that he was at his wits' end with the charade. "We're just getting used to our new heights," Zenitsu quickly interjected, hoping to defuse the situation before it escalated any further.

Inosuke let out a derisive snort. "Fine. You both are too slow, so I'm going ahead by myself to open the eatery." With that, he took off at a breakneck pace.

Zenitsu let out a sigh of relief and stepped out of his geta, almost crying with gratitude for the chance to finally rest his aching feet. "Thank goodness," he muttered.

“Nezuko,” Tanjirou said as he removed his own footwear, “go ahead and make sure Inosuke doesn’t turn back. We’ll catch up shortly.”

Nezuko nodded and ran off, leaving the two boys alone on the dusty path.

Zenitsu glared at Tanjirou, his voice low with frustration. "This is a hare-brained scheme, and every fibre of my being regrets listening to you!" he hissed.

But Tanjirou remained steadfast in his optimism. "Everything will work out. Trust me. We just have to cooperate."

Zenitsu wanted to scream and rip apart Tanjirou’s confounded optimism with all the ways that this plan could go disastrously wrong, but he knew it was pointless. Instead, he silently seethed as he trailed behind Tanjirou, holding his geta in his hands and muttering darkly under his breath. 

The ground was rough under his bare feet, but for the first time in hours, Zenitsu felt a sense of relief. He was determined to savour every moment of it, knowing it would soon come to an end.

*

When they entered the Wisteria Garden after putting their geta back on, Zenitsu felt his nerves start fraying again. Kuro-chan, their resident feline, kept giving their new footwear suspicious sniffs and looks that could kill. It was as though the cat was judging them for their dishonesty. Zenitsu's heart raced at the thought of Kuro-chan revealing their secret to Inosuke. He had to be careful not to trip over the cat as he navigated his way around the eatery.

Tanjirou set himself to work in the kitchen, resolutely wearing his new footwear even when Inosuke wasn’t around. Zenitsu couldn't help but wonder if Tanjirou was wearing the geta to feel better about lying to Inosuke, or if he was simply a masochist. Judging from the way he frequently pandered to Inosuke's whims and wants, Zenitsu concluded it was definitely the latter. Well, good for Tanjirou for having such a high tolerance for pain, but it wasn't like he had to do the same job as Zenitsu.

Zenitsu, on the other hand, had to be constantly on the move in the dining area. He couldn't even remove his geta since Inosuke was working in the same area most of the time. Zenitsu gritted his teeth and bore the growing soreness in his feet as he rushed around taking orders from the customers. But serving them their food was now beyond him. It was impossible for him to balance the heavy trays while walking on those ridiculous geta. Inosuke took over the work from him, but that came at the expense of a lot of taunting and new nicknames making fun of his slowness.

As Zenitsu brooded over his predicament, he couldn't resist feeling murderous thoughts toward Inosuke. He had half a mind to throw in the towel and reveal the truth, and better yet if Inosuke got mad and decided to up and leave for his old home in the mountain. He wondered why Tanjirou had such bad taste in love. Sure, Inosuke was pretty for a guy, but he was also brash, loud, and completely uncivilized.  Someone of Tanjirou's calibre should have no trouble attracting a pretty girl with a nice personality. 

In his mind, Zenitsu began to imagine what life would be like if Tanjirou were to find a normal girl to marry - someone who was quiet, gentle, and civilized. There would be no irritating boar to force him into daily training, call him silly nicknames, steal his food at meal times, make him cringe with brazen public displays of affection, and order him around as an underling. 

But then, he thought about the good moments they shared: the intense sparring sessions, the playful teasing, and even the boar-like antics that both frustrated him and made him laugh. Without Inosuke, no one would treat him like some love guru, asking him for love advice and putting it to practice with entertaining consequences. No one would awkwardly pat him on his back and console him haltingly in the endearing way Inosuke would when he thought he messed up. No one would look up to him like an annoying little brother, telling him he wanted to spar with him and share clothes.

Life would be less colourful , less chaotic, and more boring without Inosuke.

Zenitsu straightened himself and checked again that his pants concealed his tengu geta properly, silently resolving to tough it out for Inosuke’s sake.

*

Zenitsu finally found relief for his aching feet as Inosuke left to do a delivery. He sank into a chair, letting out a grateful groan as he stretched his legs out, feeling the weight lift off his feet.

“Don’t ask,” he groaned, as Giyuu shot him an odd look from his seat at a nearby table with Urokodaki. Zenitsu knew that the former hashira would have been sharp and observant enough to notice his odd footwear the moment he stepped into the eatery. Thankfully, he had the good sense not to say anything about it. Zenitsu couldn't see Urokodaki's reaction since he donned his mask as usual, but he was sure he was just as puzzled. 

Nezuko noticed Zenitsu's discomfort and sprang into action, rushing to grab a cold towel to soothe his throbbing feet. She knelt down beside him and tenderly applied the towel to his feet. Zenitsu released a deep, contented sigh, and at that moment, he was reminded of just how lucky he was to have Nezuko in his life. Without her, he wasn't sure how he would cope living in the Kamado household with his two idiotic best friends. A wave of gratitude washed over him, and he looked at her with a warm smile, feeling blessed to have the most caring and adorable girlfriend in the world.

“Sensei! Giyuu-san! It’s great to see you!” Tanjirou appeared with their orders perfectly balanced on a tray, walking with surprising ease in his tengu geta. Zenitsu’s moment of bliss melted away as he stared, mouth agape. He couldn't believe how Tanjirou  managed to stay upright in those ridiculous shoes. Nezuko turned to watch too. While there was initial apprehension in her eyes, it soon turned into admiration. Tanjirou calmly and confidently delivered the heavily-ladened tray, filled with extra helpings of everything, to Giyuu and Urokodaki's table, beaming as though he didn't have a care in the world. He continued standing by their table and chatting with them animatedly, showing no sign of discomfort.

"Don't you want to sit down?" Giyuu asked, eyeing Tanjirou's feet with concern.

"Oh no, I'm good! I'll have to go back to the kitchen soon anyway." Tanjirou waved a hand dismissively.

Zenitsu couldn't help but feel envious of Tanjirou's resilience. Despite struggling to walk in the tengu geta earlier, Tanjirou had seemingly mastered them. Zenitsu had even seen him bend over and give Kuro-chan some head scritches earlier on when the cat rubbed against his leg, all while remaining steady on his feet. Zenitsu knew he could never have done that without tumbling over himself.

Tanjirou's ability to achieve anything he set his mind to with sheer determination and hard work was something Zenitsu admired but knew he could never fully replicate. The realization that Nezuko might consider her brother to be superior to him stung. He slumped back in his chair, feeling inadequate and defeated.

Nezuko's smile radiated warmth and reassurance as she placed her hand on Zenitsu's knee. "I know it's been tough for you, but I’m sure nii-chan knows what he's doing. Just trust him, all right?"

Zenitsu was highly sceptical. While Tanjirou showed remarkable skill in walking around in the tengu geta, that didn’t change the fact that this plan seemed moronic and destined for failure. Love had made Tanjirou stupid and the idiot boar's recklessness and idiocy had certainly rubbed off on him. Despite his reservations, he knew better than to voice his feelings to Nezuko about her precious nii-chan.

"Uh, sure, I guess," he muttered noncommittally.

Nezuko's smile broadened, and she leaned in to peck him on the cheek. Zenitsu felt a jolt of energy coursing through his body as if her touch had breathed new life into him.

"You can do this! I have faith in you!" she said with a giggle before heading back to the kitchen.

Feeling reinvigorated, Zenitsu sat up straight in his chair. "Thanks, Nezuko-chan. I won't let you down!" he declared, his voice brimming with newfound confidence.

Tanjirou was caught off guard by Zenitsu's sudden outburst and stumbled backwards, his tengu geta clacking against the floor. Urokodaki and Giyuu quickly moved to stabilize him, each grabbing one of his arms to steady him. "Careful there, Tanjirou," Urokodaki said. "You should sit down."

He pulled over a stool, and Tanjirou sat down obediently, looking flustered. He thanked them and continued speaking, albeit with less gusto than before.

Zenitsu couldn't resist a snigger of satisfaction, glad to see that even Tanjirou had his moments of inadequacy.

Chapter 3

「 ✦ Please support your creators by reblogging ✦ 」

Author's Notes: This was supposed be a two-chapter story. But I got hit with a sudden brainwave and decided to sneak in a Giyuu and Urokodaki cameo. Next thing I know, I'm knee-deep in a Zenitsu introspection about how he sees himself compared to Tanjirou. It was all getting a bit too much, so I split the chapter in two. Don't worry though, we'll definitely find out if Tanjirou's harebrained scheme worked out in the next chapter! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my fic, it’d really make my day if you could drop a like, reblog, and/or comment to let me know! This story is also published on AO3 where you can comment anonymously! Although I mostly write for myself, your encouragement keeps me motivated to post and share my work.

[wwwwwvwwvwwvwvwvwvwv]

little camp stove

I'm taking a welding class, and we have some time in the class to work on whatever we want. i ended up spending a few weeks worth of classes making this little wood stove intended to be used for camping.

i was inspired to make this after finding that material with all of the little holes in it. the principle is straightforward, it just sucks in air from the bottom and makes the fire happen because heat goes up. the thing itself came out really nicely. I think it looks cool, and putting it together was fun

here's a video of the first burning, with my cute little mini firewood that i had to chop up to fit inside

of course, being that this was my first attempt at designing the stove, the issues came up when testing it. the principle of burning the wood worked exactly as intended, and the fire was great. i didn't take the smoke into account, though. it turns out there's a reason that wood stoves have an exhaust pipe and don't just billow the smoke directly onto your food.

here you can see that our test hot dogs are receiving a nice coating of carcinogens from the fire. i took a bite out of one of these hot dogs and the nasty chemically taste of the smoke and whatever other bullshit was coming out coated the inside of my mouth for like 2 hours

using a pan wasn't enough to save it, either. it turns out that obstructing the airflow with the pan conveniently creates a low pressure zone that sucks all of the smoke directly to where your food is

this thing is definitely doing a great job of burning the wood at least. unfortunately, though, the smoke issue makes this thing pretty much unusable. it's not useful as a cooker because of the smoke coating your food, and it's not useful as a heater because to be in a space small enough for it to heat would mean you're going to die of smoke inhalation before you get even warm. it's still cool, though, and i'm happy to keep it as an artifact.

this is just a first iteration, and I'm definitely going to try and make an improved stove to address the issues i found when testing this one.

I'm tempted to try and make some modifications to this stove to make it work better, but I think the internal volume of the thing is just too small for it to really produce a substantial amount of heat. If I were going to modify it, though, here are a few things I'd do:

weld a flat plate on top to create a cooking surface that doesnt coat your food in nasty bullshit

cut out an exhaust hole in the back and add in a pipe to get the smoke away from the food

have the door hinge horizontally rather than vertically. when you open the door on this thing the fire erupts out directly onto your arm lol

have an actual door latch instead of using a magnet. magnets stop working when they're really hot and the magnet isn't strong enough to hold the door shut when there's shit inside of it

i'm sure any astute stovist could take a look at my stove and immediately pick out every reason that it wasn't going to work, but what I really wanted to do was just wing it for a project and see what happens. in the end, i think this was a much more useful approach for me to take than it would have been to study stove designs and agonize over how i'm going to put it together. i ended up with a tiny shit stove that's useless, but the experience of conceiving, assembling, and testing it was much more enjoyable to me and a great way to learn. striving for perfection on the first attempt would have ended in me taking way fucking longer to make this, and it still would have just been a first attempt no matter what. it was very helpful for me to just put aside the uncertainty and let whatever happens happen.

i hope you enjoyed this, i want to make more blog posts like this when i make shit. it's a nice way to thought dump and share what i'm doing without sending two thousand messages to all of my friends

[lustastarte]

♤ fragrancia | jocaesar ♤

genre: fluff/teeny tiny bit of angst

soap fragrances jumpstarting caesar and joseph’s 1940s secret love story

published: 2023

Whistling as he steps out of the steam-filled bathroom, Joseph shook his thick, wet hair like a dog and lazily held the fluffy beige towel around his waist. The sound of his water-logged feet softly popping against the beautiful marble floor echoed in the silent room, distracting Caesar from his daily devotional. 

"Will you sit down somewhere?"

Joseph released his grip on his towel, which sat just below the horizontal apex of his hipbones, and began pulling clothes out of the hotel dresser. Without giving Caesar so much as a glance, he snorted and shook his head.

"You are such a pain in the neck, you know that?"

The brunette turned around, his bare torso now fully exposed to his roommate. "You betcha."

Caesar couldn't help but eye him up. He tried his hardest to look as though it were out of anger, but he knew deep down that it wasn't. "Twat."

"Go get in the shower, you dud. Then you can complain all that you would like."

Rolling his eyes and huffing through his flared nostrils, he grabbed his clothes and towel, making his way to the bathroom. The chilly marble floor and off-white plastered walls were covered in a layer of water droplets from the suffocating steam condensing; the air smelled of dark, sweet amber, musky, sensual sandalwood, and just a hint of sunny, juicy candied mandarin oranges mixed with the sweat and dirt the British man had just washed away. As embarrassing as it was, Caesar always requested to take a shower last, just to smell Joseph's unique scent. It wasn't anything weird, he just enjoyed analyzing different fragrances and the bar soap that Joseph used just so happened to be one of his favorite so far. He often wonders what it smells like on the other's skin, if it will sweeten and develop undertones of exotic Madagascar vanilla or warm up to reveal a smoky ginger incense undertone. Of course, again, not in a questionable way. Caesar always shakes the thoughts from his head for fear that they may become (or, less admittedly, already are) about more than a fragrance, yet continues to give in to his guilty pleasure of showering after Joseph.

After cleaning himself up and getting dressed, he shuffled out of the bathroom and toward the bed.

"Thank God you're out, I really have to go," Joseph said as he headed for the bathroom.

"Why did you not go when you showered?"

"Hold on!"

Joseph shut the door as if he were in some sort of a hurry. He didn't have to pee, he did before he showered. He just always pretends that he does after Caesar showers so he can smell the scent of his bar soap. Joseph certainly isn't a fragrance expert or buff, he considers himself much more of a casual fragrance enjoyer that just so happens to enjoy his training partner's scent of choice. It wasn't odd. He excused it by comparing it to a perfume shop, where you take sample strips of your favorites. Except, in a perfume shop, you typically sample more than one and usually buy something... And you don't have to pretend to be doing something else... And it's not smelling other people's post-shower air... Oh, whatever!!! None of it matters, it's just not weird, okay?!

Each time he stepped into the misty bathroom, the heavy air washed the blonde's smell all over him. The palo santo is always registered first, the bright and refreshing mix of pine, mint, and citrus lighting his brain up. Then the deep, earthy spiciness of patchouli follows, ballroom dancing with the light, floral herbyness of lavender. It was so refined and sophisticated, yet so, so masculine. The longer Joseph stood there and smelled, the more he felt as though he had just taken Valium. Suddenly jumping back to his senses, he rushes out of the bathroom. How long had he been in there? Would Caesar notice?

Caesar lifted his head as Joseph sped out of the bathroom. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, fine."

"I don't exactly want to sleep near you if you're feeling ill," Caesar sighed.

"I am not ill, Caesar," Joseph responded. "You don't exactly have a choice if you'd like to sleep in the bed with me... You either do or you get the floor."

The Italian scoffed and pulled the comforter back on his side. "As if."

"I'm glad you decided to come 'round," the brunette commented, a smug grin lighting his face up while he climbed into the bed. Half his body hung off the side of the bed for fear that he would end up much too close to Caesar for 'friends.' His back faced Caesar's, and vice versa, to ensure they would not wake up facing one another, or worse, touching one another.

"Good night, Caesarino."

Caesar took a deep breath in, yawning on the exhale as he nuzzled the side of his face into the cool, firm hotel pillow. "Good night, Jojo."

The next evening, after hours and hours of training, the two strode through the arched entrance of the hotel, an ornate Renaissance-era palazzo refurbished into a hotel around 1890. Stone pillars surrounded them, supporting the vaulted ceilings and complimenting the frescoed walls with their blankness. Lavish and extravagant Venetian chandeliers hung overhead, lighting up the atrium and a grand marble and mahogany staircase that led to the outdoor terraces which overlooked the countless acres of lush, vibrant terraced gardens dotted with beautifully crafted stone fixtures such as fountains and birdbaths. The two boys took the side stairs up to their room and completed their shower routine, climbing into bed right after.

Sometime around 3 a.m., Joseph woke to the feeling of something against his back. Soft, hot breaths tickled his spine as the hand resting across his waist and tucked between his body and the bed pulled him closer. He froze, slowly turning his head to look behind him. As he peered over his shoulder, the blonde tucked his face into Joseph's back, curling the rest of his body up into the other's like a cat. His hand moved down from just under his pecs to the middle of his stomach and Joseph shuddered. 

What the fuck does he do? Should he wake him up? Oh no, oh no, no, no, what if someone sees them?

He decided that the best thing to do would be to never speak of it again. Of course, Caesar could not be blamed, it was impossible that he knew. He was out cold the second his head hit the pillow, overly exhausted from their rigorous training. Caesar didn't have to know, either. 

Even with the unexpectedness, Joseph felt oddly safe and comfortable with the situation. The warmth against his back and resting on his side was soothing; knowing Caesar trusted him enough to feel so secure that he is unconsciously drawn to him in his sleep made his heart flutter and heat pool in his stomach. Most of all, he felt ashamed. Ashamed that he hadn't moved, ashamed that he didn't feel uncomfortable, and absolutely mortified that he enjoyed it. Joseph was enjoying his best friend accidentally attaching himself to him in his sleep. What does this mean? This isn't right. Why does he like it? Caesar is his best friend and they're both men. This shouldn't be happening. He must be lonely because this just isn't normal. His worst enemies, fear and social rejection, began to win the mental battle. And while every cell in his body screamed at him to stay, he left Caesar's warm embrace to get into the bed on the other side.

Around 6 a.m., the birds began to sing. While beautiful, Caesar thought them to be much too loud and wants nothing more to do with them. Finishing up with being angry at the birds, he began to notice his surroundings had changed. Why was he on a different side of the bed? He turned over to find Joseph out cold, arm outstretched to him on his side of the bed. What in hell happened last night? Is Joseph okay?

After waking up, Joseph acted... different. He was normally quite a touchy man, but he seemed to be keeping his distance from Caesar. What did Caesar do to him in his sleep?

"Jojo?"

Joseph hummed, barely looking over at the blonde.

"Are you okay? You're acting odd... Do you know why I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?"

A swift, barely noticeable look of fear washed over the Brit's face before returning to his collected composure. "I'm stressed... And I-... I got sick this morning and when I returned, you were in my spot so I slept on your side." 

He hates lying. Lying makes him feel dirty, as if covered in corn syrup, caked with semi-dry mud, or doused in tar. The guilt immediately set in, evident on his face as he swallowed nothing and cleared his throat.

Caesar scanned his face, scrutinizing each and every detail. Joseph's shifty eyes and clenched jaw were all he needed to know that he had been lied to. 

"Why are you lying to me over something so simple?"

"Fine," Joseph huffed. "You had rolled over and ended up nearly on top of me, so I moved because I felt that that was not your intention in the slightest."

Caesar chuckled. "What, are you afraid of parking with your sweet ol' mate?"

Joseph's face contorted, lifting his lip and dropping his eyebrows in disgust. "We are not parking, you insufferable twat! I would never hold you and certainly never kiss you, not in a million years!"

Caesar faked a gasp, placing his hand over his heart and throwing his head back and to the side as though a shocked, helpless maiden in an old film. "Oh no! What ever shall I do? Jojo can no longer understand jokes! Oh, the horror! The sorrow!"

The brunette balled his sleep shirt and threw it as hard as possible at the other. "You are not funny, Caesar."

"Is it truly that offensive to you to have a joke made that you're a queer?"

"I am not a queer, Caesar. I have no problem with it, but it just isn't me." 

Caesar watched as Joseph's eyes shifted, looking anywhere but him, and decided to drop it for now. Maybe he could bring it up later. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to joke about a sensitive subject for you, I truly did not know. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. Will you forgive me, Joseph?"

"That's fine. Thank you for apologizing to me."

"Always. Now, what do you say about getting coffee? It will be on me," Caesar offered, both to break the awkward silence and make up for his unintentionally cruel joke. Joseph looked off to the side to think before flicking his gaze to Caesar's bony, clasped hands that sat limp in his lap and nodding, a large yawn overtaking his ability to speak.

So out on the town they went. Though he had been in the city for a couple weeks, its ancient aura never failed to capture Joseph's attention, and even native Italians such as Caesar have a hard time pulling themselves away. History seems to ooze and flow from each crack and crevice, no matter how small. Classical, arched and pillar-supported architecture remnants celebrating their 2,000th birthday mingled with Italian Gothic pointed arches, elaborate statues, and large windows. Narrow, tricolored cobblestone streets fenced in by towering plaster and stone buildings, some left bare, some painted a singular color or two, and some frescoed with the most beautiful scenes. The salty, fresh smell of the sea mixed with the delectable smell of Italian sweets, waves crashing against the shore as shop owners work to fill their display cases with countless treats. Tourists were around each corner, marveling at the scenery, and Joseph couldn't blame them. However, they walked much too slow for his liking and he was not fond of them. They often wore clothes that did not reflect the city's fashion trends and perfumes that smelled of too much tuberose, white florals, and... peppercorn? The smell of sickly sweet bubblegum, chewed for a minute and spat onto a plate of freshly crushed pink peppercorn hurt Joseph's nose, made him sneeze over and over. One could pick them out in the hordes of people with ease, even if inexperienced with people-watching. Their colognes were also much too strong, the harsh metallic odor of it mixing with the straight alcohol and cigarette smoke clinging to their shirts so overpowering at times that it could cause Joseph and Caesar to choke up from five feet away. Because of the tourists, most places were continually packed, a 30 minute wait on their slowest days. Fortunately for the two men, their favorite place to have coffee stayed a heavenly secret among the locals. The two stepped through an unassuming door and into the cafe, where they were immediately greeted. 

"Buongiorno! Un marocchino e un cappuccino per favore," Caesar said sweetly to the barista, his voice lower and smoother than when he speaks English. While he had been studying a little, the only thing Joseph recognized was 'cappuccino,' and only because they have those in England (albeit much, much less artisanal and much, much more... vapid).

Standing at the bar, they quickly finished their drinks and began the short walk back to their hotel.

"Is there anything you would like to do after this?"

Joseph hummed. "Aperol spritzes on the terrace?"

Caesar smiled at the brunette. "I love the way you think, Jojo."

They swung by a small market just outside of their hotel for the Aperol and Prosecco, with soda water already waiting in the mini refrigerator in their room. Without measuring, Joseph pre-made 7 glasses of the drink so when they inevitably wanted more, they could simply get up and grab one, and that they did. Feeling a bit tipsy, Joseph stopped on his third, offering the fourth one that they originally were to split to Caesar alone. Caesar, being a bit smaller in height and weight than Joseph, was more tipsy; while a 4th drink would not necessarily get him 'drunk,' it will elevate him from tipsy to a bit woozy.

"Y'know, Jojo, I feel bad for what happened earlier," Caesar sighed, guilt evident in his eyes as he attempted to make eye contact with the brunette. 

"That's okay, you couldn't have known," he responded with a smile. 

They sat in a semi-awkward, painful silence for what felt like hours before the blonde broke it.

"Do you mind me asking why it's sensitive for you?"

Joseph swallowed and clenched his jaw. "Can you promise to tell absolutely no one?"

"That I can do, I swear on my life that no soul will hear what you have to say."

The Brit nodded, biting the inside of his mouth and taking sudden interest in the striations of the mahogany planks that make up their wooden terrace. 

"The reason it's sensitive is because of my father. He might kill me if even a single person has a single thought that there is a single, sub-microscopic chance that I may like men. He's not the most accepting, which I find odd because I've been told Grandpa Johnathan was accepting of anyone and anything, so long as they were of good heart. Not to mention that the outside world is cruel and full of hate. In Germany, they've begun imprisoning people who don't fit their definition of normal. And to be quite frank with you, I'm scared of what could happen if someone suspects anything of me."

Caesar slid his chair closer to the other, flashing a gentle smile as he stopped. "You take after your grandfather, I hope that you know that. And I intend to as well. It does not matter to me what you find yourself attracted to. Now that I think about it, I have something to tell you that may ease your mind. Can you keep a secret, Jojo?"

The brunette nodded, anxiety skyrocketing. What was he going to say to him?

"Yes, I can."

"I trust you with my life, Joseph, so I will tell you this only once. No one else must ever know."

"No one will ever know, I swear to you."

Caesar's heart pounded in his chest. Was he really going to tell him this? He knows that Joseph won't run or hide from him, he assumes he'll be indifferent at the very least. Still, he had never, ever entertained the thought of telling someone. Hell, he had never even entertained the thought of entertaining the thought of telling someone. Yet here he was, about to explain everything to a man he met less than two months ago.

Granted, Joseph was... different. Different from the Italians he's used to, different from the way others dress, different from the way others' bodies are built, different from the way Caesar interacts with others, different from the way Caesar talks about others, different from the way Caesar thinks about others. He really doesn't think of anyone else anymore. Maybe it's because he has to spend all of his time with him? No, no he doesn't. He's allowed to go out on the town by himself, he's a grown man for fuck's sake. But each day after training, when he's given the chance, he chooses to spend his free time with Joseph. He has the choice to have a coffee alone in the morning, the choice to eat lunch by himself, the choice to enjoy a lonely dinner; and every single day, he finds himself following Joseph everywhere he goes and asking him to tag along when they may have to separate.

Joseph was Caesar's best friend. The best best friend that Caesar has ever had and will ever have. Never before had he met someone so willing to lay their life down for a friend, save for himself. And lay his life down he would; all Joseph has to do is ask. Caesar trusts Joseph with his life, so why not allow him to know this? Too late to back out.

The blonde took a shallow breath. "I- Well... How do I say this?"

Joseph raised an eyebrow, but stayed silent as he concentrated on Caesar's features, his piercingly viridescent hooded eyes, his streamlined Roman nose, his slightly flushed lips that never seem to crack, his jawline, his cheekbones, his eyebrows, and the little pink triangles that sit upon the apex of his cheeks. He found himself staring against his control, focus lingering on the middle of Caesar's face. He had never thought about how handsome his friend was, only heard it just about a million times. Yet there he sat, admiring the other man.

"Joseph, did I ever tell you that I have had... er- relations, if you will, with a man?"

The Brit's eyes widened and he leaned forward. "Are you serious?"

Oh no. Oh no. Caesar hesitated to answer, his heart threatening to crack under the weight of the possibility that he could lose his best friend over something so trivial. He bit the inside of his cheek, gaze dropping from the brunette's, and nodded. The fear of rejection, especially from someone so important in his life, brought pain to his chest and pushed his stomach acid up into his throat and mouth.

"Caesar? Caesar?" Joseph tapped the underside of the Italian's chin with the side of his curled index finger twice, gently lifting upward on the second tap to encourage Caesar to refocus. 

"Caesarinoooo?" He cooed. 

Caesar only matched his gaze, words unavailable to him. 

"Now that I am sure you're listening, this changes nothing. You are still my best friend, still the same Caesar I met and fought with two months ago," he grinned.

"So... you don't mind? What about sleeping in the bed and getting changed and-?"

"Hey," Joseph interrupted. "Did you not listen? I don't mind. It makes no difference with me."

Caesar's eyes seemed to brighten, the pain in his chest subsiding. "Are you sure?"

"You are still m- Caesar. Even if it may not be for me," he broke their eye contact to look around, face fading of its color, then rejoined their gazes.  "I have no problems with the fact that you've been with a man. Truthfully... I think you're brave."

Caesar knew he was lying, he just didn't know about what part. Was he lying about still seeing Caesar the same? Or about seeing him as brave? Or about it not being him? No, no, the last one couldn't be right. Caesar had seen the brunette kiss so many women! Well... sort of. He had seen women fawn over him, rubbing his biceps and kissing his cheeks, but he never tried to push them away and certainly never seemed uncomfortable... 

"Brave? Why's that?"

"You're confident enough to do something dangerous. I'm... not like that."

"Not confident? That doesn't matter, I think if you want to try something, you should. You seem quite brave to me, considering you held your ground against me when we first met," Caesar reasoned with a fond smile.

Joseph flashed a half-smile, shrugging his shoulders. "I know, but this is... different. I can hold my ground, I cannot-," he shook his head with a small huff. "Anyway, we should clean our mess up, yeah?"

So close, yet so far... It drove Caesar insane trying to figure out what was with Joseph's sudden topic changes. What was so badthat he couldn't bear to talk about it?

Weeks passed and Caesar never brought the subject up. Whatever it was, Joseph seemed to be conflicted, maybe even scared. But of what? Caesar worried that he may be judgemental of his lifestyle, even if he denies it. If he were, would he not want to have separate beds or even rooms? Would he not insist on being fully dressed around Caesar or refrain from touching him? It made him ill, nauseated to think that Joseph would feel anything but amicable toward him. Every single day, the sight of Joseph tanked his confidence and encouraged him to dispel any food inside his stomach (or to be more exact, the lack thereof). He was so worked up that Joseph himself began to notice, which could be considered a miracle under different circumstances. For now, it's an extremely unpleasant truth. 

"Caesar, are you sure that you're well-off?"

Caesar lightly sighed. "Yes, Joseph. I am just wonderful."

Normally, Joseph Joestar is one of the easiest people to lie to. Normally. Unfortunately, not today. 

"Stop lying to me. I can't truly be your best friend if I can't help you when something is wrong," Joseph spoke with a stern tone, stepping closer to where Caesar sat on their shared bed. The blonde pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes nearly devoid of life. 

"Let me crush your worries, alright?"

Caesar nodded as Joseph gently sat down next to him, closer than they had ever been. Before, they would sit close, but never touched one another. Now, Joseph's thigh pressed against the other's, their torsos and faces mere inches apart.

"Give me your hand, please," Joseph extended his own hand, palm up and fingers relaxed. The blond placed his hand in Joseph's, who brought it closer to himself and clasped his other hand around it, slightly squeezing. Caesar's face flushed a near beetroot red, green eyes filled with confusion and another feeling Joseph couldn't quite make out.

"I never lied about accepting you. You are still you," he paused. "You're still the person I met and became best friends with. You are still my Caesar."

Uh oh. He could only hope and pray that Caesar didn't register what he said. Oh, God... Oh, God, Oh, God! Why did he say that? Why did he say Caesar was his? How does he explain what he really meant? Why didn't he stop at the best friend part? He can never speak again. Yeah, that's the plan. Never speak ever again. To anyone. 

Caesar's face lit up with a childish playfulness, a thick, blonde eyebrow jumping up his forehead. "Your Caesar, huh?"

Of course he wouldn't let it slide. "No, that's- I didn't- It isn't-," he stuttered, dropping the other's hand, dying to crawl into his own grave. Nothing would be better than his lungs filling with dirt at this moment. Death is his only escape, he's convinced. 

Caesar snickered, placing a hand on Joseph's knee. "Shhh, I know what you meant. You don't have to explain yourself."

"But I didn't mean it the way you think I-!"

"You said 'my Caesar,' meaning the Caesar that you personally know because you see more of me than other people. You see a different Caesar than anyone else, so you said 'my Caesar,'" he said matter-of-factly, shrugging with a smug smile. 

"Oh..." Joseph's heart finally stilled.

"Ah, il mio dolce Jojo. You're an open book, so long as one is fluent in your language," he teased, leaning forward. "Easily one of my favorites."

Joseph couldn't help but smile, teeth on full display. He admired Caesar's half-lidded stare, the way his cold eyes soften before the top lid brings shade to those beautiful, shamrock green irises and his cocky, almost flirty grin, flaunting his lightly stained teeth as he said 'il mio dolce Jojo.'

He had no clue what 'il mio dolce' meant, but the gentleness of his sugary, rich tenor voice with a deep Italian accent made up for it all. Joseph believes Caesar could tell him to off himself with that near sultry voice of his and Joseph would still feel the butterflies in his stomach. Excitement struck; the rest of Caesar's words sank in. Easily Caesar's favorite 'book to read.' What a wonderful title to have! Caesar's favorite! He's Caesar's favorite!

"I'm truly honored, Caesarino. Just one question, what does all of that Italian stuff you said mean?"

Caesar's mind froze, paralyzed between lying or explaining that it's just meant to be endearing without coming off as odd. He wouldn't want Joseph thinking that he was flirting because he wasn't. He wasn't flirting. 

"It means fat-head."

"My head isn't fat!" The brunette looked distressed. "It's not fat, is it? Caesar, do I have a big head?"

The blonde giggled, hand flying to his mouth as he attempted to hide the small snorts. "No, Jojo, it's uh... Italian endearment. Almost like 'love' in Britain." Smooth. He'd never question that!

"Oh! Well then, hello il mio dolce Caesar!"

Caesar's breath caught in his throat. It's fine when he says it, but Joseph can't just call him that! It'll make him-! 

And there it was, again. The return of the heat in his stomach and accelerated beating of his heart. His hands were suddenly damp with sweat and the room seemed so much brighter than usual. He could smell Joseph's soap; the answer was that it developed into smoky, spicy ginger incense against his soft, freckled skin. He could hear everything, even Joseph's heartbeat. The beaming smile on Joseph's face made his legs weak and his body shaky. Caesar feels as if he had taken the strongest stimulant available on the market. This is not good.

"Was I not supposed to say that? You look... worried," Joseph questioned, interrupting his thoughts. 

"No, no! It's fine to say!" Caesar began thinking of a way out.

"Then why do you look so-?"

"I'm going to the garden pool! Don't wait up!"

Joseph stood up just as fast as the other, eager to accompany him. "Why don't I go with you?"

"NO! I mean-," Caesar cleared his throat and attempted to regain his composure. "You need to sleep! Training was quite harsh today..."

Joseph cocked his head to the side, his eyebrows diving down and his lips puckering slightly as he bit the edge of his tongue. "What are you hiding from me?"

Oh, why is he so observant today? Of all days! What does he do? What can he do?

Caesar suddenly has an idea. "Oh, I can't believe you'd even suggest that! I would never hide anything from you, tesorino," the blonde insisted, his voice suddenly sickeningly sweet and drenched with admiration again. Manipulation tactics never fail Caesar, and a white lie (or a few) never hurt anyone before. 

"Mhm... Well, have fun down there, I'll most likely be asleep by the time you return," Joseph said with skepticism. Caesar was hiding something from him, he knew it. He just had to wait.

"Thank you, goodbye Jojo!" He wasted no time exiting the room, next to running through hallways and down staircases to get to the hotel's garden, to get anywhere that wasn't his room, wasn't under Joseph's strangely observational surveillance, wasn't exposed to his voice. His beautiful, brassy baritone voice that made even Caesar's bones quiver. 

Joseph watched as the blonde fled. He tried to move from his spot or think about anything else, but Caesar had taken hold of his mind. He thought back to when they sat on the bed, so much closer than they had been before. Joseph thought about how the butterflies in his stomach seemed to hold an uprising as the blonde teased him. That sly grin, the barely visible sliver of teeth and the smug look on his face made the Brit imagine scenarios that were not so normal for best friends. This can't be real. He can't like men, and he definitely cannot like his best friend! This is so, so bad...

He changed into his sleep clothes and climbed into bed, but he couldn't sleep. Not until Caesar came back, at least. 

Caesar never made it down to the garden. Each time he looked out of the window, there were more people. Instead, he sat at the end of the hallway for half an hour, just long enough for Joseph to fall asleep. Entering the room and hearing nothing, his worries subsided. He completed his nightly routine, finally getting to feel the soft touch of the silk sheets and weight of the downy comforter.

"Caesar?"

The blonde jumped, gasping at the sudden sound from someone he thought was asleep. "Y-Yes?"

"How- Uh," Joseph lightly cleared his throat. "How did you... know?"

"Know what?" Caesar was confused, hoping that Joseph was just a sleep-talker. Those hopes were crushed as the brunette rolled over to lay face-to-face with him. 

"How did you know that you were- ah- attracted to... men?"

Caesar squinted. "I just knew, Jojo."

"No, no," he rolled his eyes. "I mean how did you know? When did you... find out?"

The Italian snorted, grinning at his roommate. 

"It isn't funny! Stop laughing! This is a serious question," Joseph whined. 

"Okay, okay, sorry," Caesar said between giggles. 

"You're still doing it!"

"I am not," he insisted, still snickering under his breath. 

"Answer the question, twat!"

"Fine, fine," the blonde sighed. "I believe I began to notice when I first entered adolescence. All of my friends had these bootleg stag films... We would all crowd around the television and watch these pretty broads shooting for the moon with these hunky men. They would always talk about their whangs sticking up because the woman was so attractive and would sometimes be so aroused they would bash it in front of one another," he explained.

Joseph nodded to show Caesar that he was still giving him all of his attention. 

"Except I never found the women attractive. I would watch the men, imagining that the woman underneath him was just a very effeminate man. I would leave the room when they began jerking it because I would feel so guilty in a room with a bunch of men with their snakes out, knowing what I was."

"So you have to only think men are attractive? To be a queer, I mean," Joseph asked. 

"No, why? Have you found yourself looking at both, Jojo?"

Joseph sighed with a hum, clenching his jaw and rolling onto his back. "Never really looked at men until recently... There's this one I noticed recently that looks better than any broad I've ever seen. Am I... Am I allowed to be attracted to both? I'm not a monster, am I?"

Caesar gave him a comforting smile, reaching out and grabbing his forearm. "Jojo... il mio dolce Jojo... You are no monster and you certainly have done no wrong. Do you understand me?"

The Brit nodded, finally turning his head back toward Caesar.

"Do you mind answering with words? I want to be sure that you understand that you are a stark contrast to a monster."

"But," Joseph turned his body back toward Caesar, this time scooting a bit closer. "What if I am?"

"Mio caro, have I ever told you that I dislike books with monsters? If you were a monster, you certainly wouldn't be my favorite book. In fact, I would have never chosen to read you at all."

"Do you... Do you mean that?" Joseph leaned forward, hoping to hear confirmation.

"Yes, of course I mean it, Jojo. You are my best friend, I adore you and everything you stand for."

Best friend. Best friend. Best... Friend... Why did that hurt him? Caesar said he adores him, why is his heart not jumping out of his chest?

"Thank you... I guess we should-"

"Yeah I think we should sleep, goodnight Jojo."

Joseph rolled over so his back faced the other. "Night, Caesar."

Caesar took a deep breath, unable to close his eyes. Why couldn't he cheer him up? He said the things that normally would help, why did it hurt him? He saw the pain in his eyes. He knows he saw them change. 

After some hours, he finally fell asleep. His dream was wonderful; he was cuddling with a firm pillow that had Joseph's exact scent on it, as if he had slept with it for weeks. His face held a smitten smile as he pressed his face into the pillow and took a deep breath to get all he could of his wonderful smell. He never, ever wanted to wake up. 

Joseph woke in a cold sweat from his nightmare. It was horrific; he and Caesar had to separate and he had been made to watch him die, unable to do anything. The terror coursing through his veins dissipated and he finally stilled as soon as he felt the familiar arm around his waist and the pretty face buried in between his shoulder blades. He fought with himself on if he should move again or stay. If he moved and Caesar's awake, he may think he's rejecting him. If Caesar wakes up and sees that he's moved again, he may distance himself. If he doesn't move, he can have gratification for a few hours... until Caesar wakes up. Should he move or stay? Move or... Stay. He's staying. He can explain himself in the morning. 

And stay he did. He turned over so they lay face to face, gently lifting Caesar up to place his toned arm underneath him and praying he won't wake up. Joseph hesitated for a second, nearly letting fear take over, then shook his head. Not this time. He won't mess up this time. Snaking his other arm around Caesar's lower back, he pulled him closer, the blonde's face now pressed against his chest. His head immediately gravitated toward the pile of thick, soft, messy hair lying just above his collarbone. As he breathed, he could smell the woody, citrusy, floral aroma that stuck to Caesar's body. He felt the Italian squeeze him, a small hum coming from behind his smile. How Caesar smiles at him even in his sleep... he feels like he normally would when around Caesar except for one feeling; there's something different. He no longer wants to just admire him, he wants to hold him close and... Oh, god. He wants to kiss him. He wants to kiss him so badly. He wants to marry him. He loves him. His best friend. He loves Caesar. 

Joseph's mind was racing. Attempting to reassure himself only helped a little, trying to forget was pointless. But when Caesar pulled him closer, whispering his name in his sleep, Joseph had no further problems sleeping.

Caesar woke up feeling so warm. A wonderful dream, a comfortable bed, warming comforter, and Joseph's arms around him... JOSEPH'S ARMS AROUND HIM?! He wanted to panic, to move away and pretend it never happened, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. This is what he wanted, right? This is exactly what he wanted. So why did it scare the fuck out of him? He didn't dare to move a muscle in fear that Joseph may wake up. Surely Joseph didn't mean to be cuddling with him, right? The only thing he could do was lay there, either leaning back into the other's chest or admiring his face. His gorgeous face. His chiseled jawline, sharp chin, and nearly colorless lips. His long, slightly upturned nose. And those eyes; those deep turquoise eyes, half shielded by eyelids mustering the strength to fully open. But he can't see his eye color unless they're open...

Oh. Oh, fuck. 

"Caesar?" Joseph's voice was deep and raspy from sleep as he spoke. 

So much for not getting caught. Caesar pretended to still be asleep, going so far as to fake a snore, but Joseph had watched his head drop when they made eye contact. 

"Caesar, I saw your eyes open," he giggled sleepily, his chest shaking against the blonde's face and his voice echoing inside his body. Caesar's face, his body, everything was suddenly too hot. He felt as though he had walked into hell. Quickly, he rolled out of Joseph's arms, muttering apologies over and over as he scrambled to get out of the bed. 

"Wait," Joseph urged, propping himself up on his elbow. "Please."

Caesar turned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I know it was a mistake and that you didn't mean to... You don't have to remind me."

"Is that what you want it to be?" Joseph waited anxiously for his answer, his heart pounding. "Just a... mistake?"

The blonde's eyes were overcome with a fog of guilt and despair. "I guess..."

He was lying. Why couldn't he just tell him the truth?

"What if..." Joseph trailed off, looking at the sheets. "What if I said that it wasn't?"

"What?"

Joseph cleared his throat. "What if I said that it was intentional?"

"Are you trying to extract some sort of confession from me or something?"

Joseph looked back up at Caesar, sitting up. "Do you not have one? I'm certain I didn't read you wrong."

"Joseph, drop it. It was a mistake." Caesar's voice was filled with agitation. 

Joseph paused, tears waiting patiently to drop from his bottom lashes. Should he just rip the bandaid off? Or spend the next few weeks pining after a man that he knows loves him too?

"No. No, Caesar, it wasn't a mistake. I woke up and you had wrapped yourself around me again. This time I didn't run, this time I turned to face you and held you too."

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"I didn't want to move. And there were... other reasons."

Caesar sat on the bed. "Other reasons?"

The Brit sighed, running nervous hands through messy brown bed hair. "I wanted to know what it felt like to hold you... to feed the butterflies, even if just a little bit."

"The butterflies? Joseph, what are you talking about?"

Joseph released a frustrated sigh, preparing himself to finally say the quiet parts to Caesar's face, everything that had built up over the months. 

"Ever since the day we met, I've had this odd feeling toward you that I have never had for anyone. You explained how you realized you liked men, and now I can explain mine. I realized something was different about you when I first woke up to you behind me."

The Italian's eyes widened with each word, his mouth slightly open. What was Joseph saying to him?

"What I mean to say is that I believe I have loved you from the beginning. I have loved you every second of every day since I first met you. I find myself addicted to your scent, admiring your features, reveling in that you should even look my way, much less speak to me and honor me with your time and presence. I loved you so much that I denied it because I could not bear to lose you, even if I would have to spend the rest of my life tormenting myself with unrequited love," his voice cracked as he attempted to hold back his tears. 

"I could be tortured, beat to the brink of death with the promise that it will end with my denial of you; I would insist that I love you a thousand times, it would be said with my last breath. If that makes me a monster, then so be it. No matter if I am Scylla or Charybdis, the Minotaur or a Cyclops. If I must become a monster for loving you, then a monster I am because 'I love you' is no longer enough for how I feel toward you, Caesar."

The blonde's mouth gaped, opening and closing his mouth as he tried to speak. He felt the urge to cry sitting in his throat.

With a shaky breath, he spoke, "I could have only hoped that you would tell me that. I never shower before you just so I can wrap myself in the comfort of your fragrance. I find myself wishing to have a life, a family with you more often than I should admit. The highest title given to anyone is that of the person Joseph Joestar chooses to love, and I am not sure I'm worthy of it. I would give my life a million times over if it ensured you would live a long, happy life. Joseph, I do not believe you are a monster, but if you were, I would become one too. Kraken, Hydra, Basilisk, or Medusa, it doesn't matter in the slightest. For if you were a monster, I would still love you."

The side of Joseph's mouth turned upward, his eyes trained on the man in front of him. He left his spot on the bed to sit next to the other man, placing a hand over the blonde's. 

His voice was a near whisper. "Can I kiss you? Please?"

Caesar never answered, only placed his hands on the sides of the Brit's face, looking from his eyes to his lips while holding a love-stricken smile an inch from his lips. As he moved closer, one hand found its way to the nape of Joseph's neck, running his fingers through his hair. Joseph instinctually supported his chin, his free hand settling on Caesar's hip, thumb slowly swiping back and forth over the bone. He mustered the courage to close the gap between them, passion and adoration immediately evident in their kiss. Their lips moved in syncopated rhythms until the nervousness melted away; then, they were one.  They matched pace, Caesar pulling Joseph closer, closer, closer, until they had to separate unwillingly to breathe. 

"I've wanted to do that for so long," the brunette sighed, lips brushing against Caesar's as he spoke.

"Me too," Caesar laughed, grinning and planting a small kiss on Joseph's lips. "You should've asked me sooner."

"I would have if you had told me that 'il mio dolce Jojo' meant 'my sweet Jojo,'" Joseph pressed their foreheads together. "You know, you're a terrible flirt."

"Oh, like you aren't?"

The Brit giggled and stuck his nose up in the air, turning his head away from Caesar. "I never said that."

The blonde grabbed the bottom of his face and pulled him back for another kiss, still as full of fire as before.

With each kiss, their scents mingled. Dark sweet amber marrying bright palo santo, woody sandalwood befriending earthy, spicy patchouli, and citrusy candied oranges relaxing with beautiful, herby lavender. The most beautiful scent either had ever smelled, uniquely theirs forever.

[46inpm]

MLQC Housemates with MC Having Toxic!Father

AU: MC's Dad from the game is her stepfather who later became her adoptive dad so toxic!father is her birth father (I won't disrespect game PaPa) Game Dad is PaPa and Toxic!Father is Dad

TW: Angst, Toxicity, Blood, Asshole Parent

Victor - Red, Lucien - Purple, Gavin - Blue, Kiro - Orange, Shaw - Green, MC (You) - Pink

They were under the impression that your birth dad was the one you took over the company for

They were surprised to find out he was your stepfather that became your adoptive father after your mom passed away but they could tell you saw him as your true father

The few things you mentioned about your birth dad was he's alive, present in your life, and you send him money

"I wonder why Miss Chips doesn't say much about him."

"Probably just aren't as close."

When you told them your dad was coming to visit for a few days and probably staying over the boys were happy to show their hospitality considering this was your dad

They wanted to impress the love of their lives' father

Victor was pissed when he found out the guess room was being used as storage

Mainly Kiro, Shaw, and you had to clean and donate stuff under Victor's supervision since it was mainly your stuff you guys lost your dessert privileges for awhile

Everyone was so busy cleaning the house that they realized later that throughout the process you never spoke highly of your dad and seemed nervous

"I just been busy that's all. I'm totally fine!"

When they first met the guy he seemed to be an okay man, Kiro and you gave him a tour of the house, that's when Kiro realized such awkward tension you kept giving out as you and your dad talked but don't worry Kiro's an amazing talker!

All the boys came home and met your dad they chatted in the living room with a movie playing as the dinner feast was being prepared

You told Victor you would finish the rest of the meal preparation by yourself, he denied but gave in when you smiled at him that you wanted some alone time

The dad seemed to be okay who was tough man inside and out that had a lot of stories to tell and seemed to care about his daughter

Things began going downhill from there

You called everyone to eat and they sat down to enjoy the food as they talked about their day and get to know your dad

They would talk and that's when your dad's behavior became noticeable

He seemed to be "Mr. Know It All" when tried to tell Victor and Gavin on HOW TO DO THEIR OWN JOBS but also passive aggressive comments of him looking down on Kiro's idol profession

Victor made this guy freakin steak and this is how he is repaid by being told how to do his job from a guy who just watches videos on financial

Kiro and you are trying your best to shift the topic and keep the peace

Deeper into dinner your dad begins making jokes throughout about you being about your weight, the way you dress, how you use people

He antagonizes you and your parents a lot

"Hope this one has been growing vertically not horizontally."

"Getting another bite already. What's up, fatty?"

"My daughter doesn't care about me. She just uses me."

That was only a few out of the jokes he told and don't forget the inappropriate ones

Who cares if their jokes if they're antagonizing to someone and just plain mean and also your dad is the biggest one here who's eating the most

Trust me no one is laughing at them and you're trying to play it off but they can tell how hurt you are (can't take a hint that no one likes the "jokes")

"The puddings ready. You can have some right now."

"It's okay. I'm not hungry anymore. I'm going to bed now."

You are really hurting inside as you try walking away fast enough not be seen crying and not even hungry to eat pudding

Everyone is left there eating with this asshole, they just want to get this dinner over with

Gavin hates him more than anybody as not only the way he talks to you but how he's reminded of his own dad

When Shaw makes the same body "joke" to your dad, they have never seen a man get so aggressive so fast before

Once your dad is fed up with Shaw and goes storms off to the guest room is when they clean up fast to go check up on you

"Thanks for ending that dinner, Shaw. If you didn't get him mad, I would have."

"I don't care who he is. Glad that the asshole is gone."

"I can see why Miss Chips doesn't really interact with him much. Why doesn't she say something about it to him?"

"Many children with parents like that feel trapped due to feeling of being indebted to them. She could be acting that way in order to not escalate the situation."

"As much as we don't like the man, we have to be polite for the few days he will be here."

They all go to your room to see you laying down as you blow your runny nose in the dark

Kiro immediately jumps in bed to give you the biggest hug while the others soothe you until you're ready to talk

You mention how he's like this with the antagonizing, rude jokes, and his temper and it being the reason your mom divorced him

Everyones face scrunched with anger as you weren't looking at the thought that this was going on this entire time

For the next few days luckily you've been busy with work to be around him, he was also busy with seeing friends but it still didn't stop his behavior and jokes when no one was around

As much as you wanted to run away from the conversations you couldn't because you were scared of what would happen

It was until one day when Shaw came home before anyone else to hear really loud screaming from a man, he was about to rush to see what was happening until you walked past him

"Welcome home. I'm a-almost done... finishing lunch. Do you want to help out?"

He's never seen you like this with deep red eyes, cheeks tear stained, legs heavily shaking, and snot dripping down

You walked to the kitchen with Shaw trying to convince you to slow down as you weren't in the right state to be cooking

Shaw has never been in a situation like this before so he didn't know what exactly to do, he made the mistake to take his eyes off you to try and call one of the guys

The moment you yelped in pain he immediately dropped the phone, you had tried to cut something but your hands were shaking so much and eyes blurring with tears that you cut your hand pretty badly

Shaw hugged your shaking body tightly as you covered your mouth from sobbing, outside began to pour with rain with heavy thunder

"P-please don't tell my-my dad. Please don't tell him!"

You were carried to the closest bedroom and the farthest from the guest room (Gavin's), Shaw made sure to lock the door

Kiro then Gavin then Lucien came home one by one and immediately panic as they saw a cutting board along with a knife stained with a lot of blood

Shaw ushered everyone into the bedroom and have Lucien properly put what little gauze they had over your deep wound already cleaned with alcohol

Lucien: Please, buy more gauze when you get home. We need it immediately. We're all in Gavin's room.🦋

Victor: What happened? Hardly ever text each other. Almost home, I'll make a quick stop.🕰

When Victor immediately enter Gavin's room, Lucien practically yanked the gauze from his hands to wrap around your hand, it dripping with blood, Gavin wiping away your tears, and Kiro staring at his IPad screen with AirPods in

"What happened?"

"My-My dad got really mad when I-I told him I really didn't like his remarks. That I felt I w-was stepping on eggshells with him-him. He got really mad that I was being se-sensitive and ungrateful, I wasn't try-ing to."

The way you chocked out an explanation as tears poured from your eyes as your hands shook in fear and pain

Victor asked Shaw and Kiro to step outside the door for a moment, he wanted a better explanation

"I came home and heard full on screaming from her dad that I wasn't even close to where they were. That was only the end of the screaming I came home to. MC tried acting as if she was okay and went to continue making lunch. I took my eyes off her for a moment that she cut herself when her hands were shaking. She begged me not to tell that asshole."

"I have security camera footage of the screaming. It's...It's really bad. Miss Chips said that she really didn't want him in her life but was scared this would happen. She said this is common with him."

Kiro's IPad showed the whole incident how you expressing your hurt and discomfort caused your dad to go screaming at you at the top of his lungs as you stood there apologizing and shaking in fear

"FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!"

"I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!!"

The three's blood ran cold at listening to him screaming with you crying in the background

Everyone laid in bed with you as you rant your feelings, past traumas and they're shocked at the things they're hearing

"He once banged on my d-door with all his strength because...because he-he didn't like that I would close the door."

After you confirmed you no longer want your birth dad in your life and fell asleep, the five men stormed over to the guest room where your dad was

Gavin cop knocked banged on the door and believe me how furious they were to see your dad

Victor gave the most intimidating voice he's ever given full of assertion and anger when telling birth dad he needs to pack up because he is no longer welcome in this house or near you

They couldn't believe this man when he threw a tantrum saying it was just an argument...excuse me argument

"Arguments are a disagreement between two individuals. Not one screaming at the other as the individual stands there in fear."

This guy was really not leaving and even trying to get pass them to get to you

Before Gavin or anyone were on the brink of committing assault charge, Kiro used his evol which shocked them as Kiro hardly ever uses his

"I command you. All within my range of control belongs to me. You will now leave this house and never return. Do not contact any of us. You will also cut off all ties with your daughter, forget her contact info and address."

The man immediately packed up all his things in a hurry as he was under Kiro's evol, they could see in his eyes of him forgetting your info and the location of the house

Victor called an Uber to drive the man to be dropped off in the city, as the car drove away they knew you were finally free from the man

During the rain this man should be careful with lightning strikes as it doesn't choose it's victim...or does it?

You could finally feel at peace when deleting his info from your phone and you no longer sent him money

[rainsongdean]

you’re always golden to me

post-mockingjay / pre-epilogue everlark healing together, appreciating the sunset, and maybe even falling in love

"We should head back before it gets dark." Peeta's words rang out in the open air between them, but they were not enough to pull Katniss from her trance-like state.

It had been a rough day. Not enough so to be classified as a bad day, seeing as Katniss had found the motivation to move from the bed to the couch at some point in the afternoon. Now, though, watching the clouds paint watercolors in the sky seemed to bring her back to life. She was encapsulated by the sight.

"Not yet," she eventually spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse from not using it for a while. "I want to stay until it's over. Besides, we could walk home blindfolded from here."

It was true. Katniss had discovered the hill nestled in the woods behind Victor's Village not long after returning from the Capitol. She found solace in being embraced by the wilderness rather than being suffocated in her old home, so when she accidentally stumbled upon the tall mount that overlooked the wide plains and open sky, she knew she had found what she had subconsciously been searching for.

It had taken a few months before she brought Peeta to her secret spot. He'd only returned to District 12 a few days before she had found the hill, and they both needed some time to warm up to each other again. But one day, after suffering through a particularly vivid flashback that ended with him handcuffed to one of Haymitch's spare cages for his geese, Katniss figured it would do them both good to escape into the forest for a while.

That was the first night they watched the sunset from the hill. It had been slightly uncomfortable, sitting inches apart on the dewy grass, no attempt at conversation made by either party. Eventually, Peeta suggested they return home to make dinner before it got too late, but Katniss insisted that she could tell by the shape of the clouds that they would put on an impressive show.

As usual, she was not wrong.

It was the most vibrant spectacle either of them had seen - far more breathtaking than any Capitol party or fireworks display. Sure, they had both watched the sun go down in 12 before, but their view had always been clouded by the thick layer of dust in the air from the mines or obstructed by the cluster of buildings stacked practically on top of one another. Here on their hill, nothing stood between them and the sky. Beyond that, the best part was they got to share it together, just the two of them. 

Since that night, the pair made an effort to hike the two-mile trek to the hill at least once a week, though they typically found themselves there more often than that. Katniss still liked to visit the spot alone, sometimes using the safe space to speak aloud to Prim or Finnick and imagine what they would say back. Other times she just enjoyed the silence.

Peeta, too, ventured to the hill a few times by himself. He had tried on several occasions to paint the landscape, and while he was able to perfect the morning glow and mid-afternoon sun, he couldn't capture the colors of nightfall that he most desired to paint.

Despite the significance that the holy ground held for each of them individually, neither one could deny that they preferred to visit the hill together. Katniss had been unofficially living with Peeta for weeks now, and they even shared a bed most nights, but there was a different breed of intimacy that came with being in the woods, nestled in their own little corner of the universe. 

"Fine," Peeta sighed contentedly, breaking the silence again. "We can stay as long as you'd like." With that, he leaned toward the picnic basket they had brought and reached in, shoving aside the empty containers that once held a selection of berries, cheeses, and breads to reveal a neatly folded fleece blanket he had stashed in the bottom. "I came prepared," he announced with a sense of pride.

Katniss briefly pulled her gaze from the view for the first time since the sun had begun its descent to offer Peeta a small smile of gratitude. The gesture warmed his heart with the blaze of ten thousand sunsets.

Taking care to wrap the soft cover around their legs, Peeta pulled the fabric up to their chests and then eased his back to the ground until he was laying horizontal on the hill. Katniss followed suit so they were both engulfed by the blanket.

Their new angle only served to better showcase the colors stretching endlessly above them. One hue in particular transported Katniss back to a seemingly ancient memory of the two of them.

"Orange. Muted... like a sunset." Katniss didn't break her eye contact with the sky but smirked to herself as she spoke.

Peeta nudged her shoulder playfully in response, easily picking up on what she was referring to. Their conversation on the train about favorite colors was one of the first to come back to him after he had been rescued from the Capitol. Shifting slightly toward Katniss, he reached out and twisted his finger gently around a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. "You're so poetic when you quote me," he mused sarcastically.

"Well, your choice of favorite color is much more poetic than Effie’s choice of wig," she quipped. It was ironic how some of her and Peeta's best conversations had happened in the midst of some of the worst times of their lives. And yet, there they were: safe and relatively happy, just two kids trying to piece themselves back together with some pastel paints, cheese buns, and hidden hills. It may not have been anything profound, but it was living, and Katniss figured that, for time being, that would be enough.

She inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the moment. They had reached the peak of the sunset when every particle in the air seemed to glisten from the giant star's final attempt to remain on the topside of the world. There was only one word to describe it.

"Everything is golden."

And, for an instant, it was.

But as the sun succumbed to the pull of dusk, the raging reds and oranges that had scorched the sky swiftly turned to delicate pinks and purples, paving the way for the black of night.

It was then that Katniss realized Peeta had been uncharacteristically quiet, his sunset commentary usually being much more prolific than hers. When she turned her head to the left to face him, she found he was already staring back at her, still toying with her hair. His deep blue eyes twinkled like he knew a secret and was about to let her in on it.

When they first met, that kind of look from Peeta overwhelmed her. Sometimes Katniss would catch him staring at her like she carried the world in her hands, or spun threads of gold with her words. It puzzled her, annoyed her, and at times even enraged her. But after his hijacking, it had been so rare for that young, innocent Peeta to reappear and give her that look which spelled out his love for her so plainly on his face, and she had grown to cherish it.

"I change my mind." For the third time that night, Peeta's voice sliced open the veil of silence that covered them. 

Katniss abruptly rose to a sitting position, an expression of confusion clouding her face as she leaned over Peeta's resting form. "What do you mean?"

"I change my mind," He repeated calmly, shrugging as if the answer to her question was obvious. "The sunset isn't my favorite shade of orange anymore."

Katniss bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, causing the wrinkles on her forehead to deepen. Peeta could tell she was trying to keep herself from challenging him, so he decided not to torture her any longer.

"You are my favorite shade of orange," he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, easing away the signs of worry that had risen on her face. "You, sitting here with the sun reflecting in your eyes, your skin glowing in the light." He lowered his voice to a whisper and retracted his hand, slowly guiding Katniss's head to rest on his chest so she could hear his heart beating. "The way you make me feel like I'm on fire inside, all the time."

Girl on fire. The words echoed in his mind and, although he did not dare speak them, he internally admitted they rang true. And it was in moments like those, as he held her under the night sky with millions of stars blazing above them, that he saw Katniss burn the brightest.

"Oh, shut up," she exhaled, turning away from him in an attempt to conceal the blush that had overtaken her smiling face, but Peeta didn't have to see it to know it was there. "You're so cheesy."

"Hey now," he feigned a hurt expression, "I thought you liked my cheese."

Katniss couldn't hide her outburst at his nonsense and they both fell into a fit of laughter together. They hadn't spoken much about what exactly their relationship status was at the moment, hesitant to put labels on anything, but he still wanted her to know how he felt about her. And while Katniss had never been proficient in using her words to convey her love, the way that she clung to Peeta, burying her head in his arm while gasping to regain her breath from laughing so hard, told him everything he needed to know.

"Come on, we should really head back before Haymitch gets worried." Peeta attempted once again to persuade Katniss to return home after they had both calmed down. His stomach was beginning to growl - the small rations of their picnic earlier weren't nearly enough to tide over his appetite until morning - and now that the sun had set, he'd much rather snuggle up with Katniss on their couch than on the cold, hard ground. And besides, while he didn't really think their mentor would be waiting up for them, he figured the argument might be enough to persuade her.

"Seeing as it's past 3 p.m., I think it's safe to say that Haymitch is passed out on his couch," Katniss countered, but her actions said otherwise as she began to gather herself up off the ground. Peeta knew she had a soft spot for the old man.

It took them a little over half an hour to walk home, leisurely following the path that their own footprints had created over time. Upon entering the house, Peeta made a beeline to the kitchen to heat up some leftover stew from the night before. While he ate, Katniss headed to Haymitch's house, opening the unlocked door to find him asleep in his living room as she had predicted. She pried the half-empty bottle from the arm that hung off the couch and set it on a nearby table before turning the lights out and closing his front door behind her.

She had recently made a habit of checking in on her friend, especially during the weeks when Effie travelled back to the Capitol for work. She knew he had done the same for her countless times. Haymitch never seemed to question why he would sometimes wake up with a blanket draped over him or a pillow propped beneath his head, and Katniss didn't plan on bringing it up. Like most things between the two of them, it went unsaid.

Later that evening, tucked under the covers of Peeta's bed - their bed - Katniss felt more at ease than she did most nights. Maybe it was the serenity of the particularly striking sunset, or maybe it was Peeta's roundabout confession of the feelings he still had for her. Either way, she was pleasantly content. 

On the other side of the mattress, as Peeta danced on the cusp of sleep, his mind dragged him back to something Katniss had said on the hill. Everything is golden. He knew what she meant; that the landscape had been blanketed by the radiance of the sunset. But he felt it was true in another sense, and that maybe this new phrase was an even more appropriate way to describe the true essence of Katniss Everdeen.

Before drifting off herself, Katniss heard Peeta mumble one last line of admiration, causing her to fall asleep with a smile ingrained on her lips.

"You're always golden to me."

[wanderinginksplot]

Warriors in Red Armor

Next | Masterlist

Chapter One

Hound I

"So, are we going to 79's tonight?" Hound asked. He had meant to be subtle about it, but the question burst out of him the moment his well-worn boots crossed the threshold of the small break space allotted to members of the Coruscant Guard.

As break spaces went, the one designated for the Coruscant Guard's clone troopers was an embarrassment. Some determined being had managed to cram a table and a handful of chairs inside, but it was a tight fit. If more than a few fully armored troopers went inside at the same time, none of them would get back out without removing some armor to clear the traffic jam. The lights flickered, the faucet leaked, the floor was always sticky, and the stuffy air held a hint of the chemicals that had been stored there years ago. Since then, the previous break space had been renovated into an office for one of the few nat-born commanding officers and this one had been created for the clone troopers.

Still, the smell of caf was stronger than the smell of chemicals most days and the light from a nearby advertisement screen lit the room so brightly that the flickering lights didn't give any of the troopers a migraine anymore. Hound always was a man who liked to see the glass as half-full. Maybe even a little more than half, if that glass was sitting under the dripping faucet.

Thire snorted at Hound's question, leaning back in his chair until gravity threatened to topple him. "Well, boys? Hound wants to know if we're going to 79's this lovely Friday evening. What do we think?"

Thorn glanced around the room, looking unamused by his brother's antics. "We think I'm the only other one here, di'kut."

"Exactly!" Thire said in triumph, obviously determined to ignore his fellow commander. "It's the weekend! Why wouldn't we go to 79's?"

"Because you've finally realized that it's a glorified zoo?" Thorn snapped, tone venomous. "79's is where civvies go to stare at clone troopers so they can feel like they're being daring. In reality, they're being irritating."

Having spoken his piece, Thorn tossed back the last of his cup of caf, always consumed as dark as his mood. Hound shuddered at the thought. Corrie Guard caf was brewed at the approximate concentration of speeder fuel and could eat through duracrete. Only a trooper who hated himself would drink it black.

Thorn always drank it black.

"So you don't want to go?" Hound asked again, sounding heartbroken.

"No, I'll go," Thorn told him. "Zoo or not, 79's still has the cheapest booze on Coruscant that doesn't use poison as a mixer."

"Well, that's the most excited I've heard Thorn get about anything for a week, at least," Thire smirked. "Commander Fox, you want in on this?"

The Head Commander of the Coruscant Guard, having just stepped into the break room to fill his mug with caf, shook his head. "No, I'm on duty tonight. The Clone Rights group has been cleared to march and the Chancellor wants an extra Guard presence. Stone will be stuck here as well, monitoring any new arrivals."

"Ugh," Hound said, summarizing everyone else's point of view. "Well, we'll be thinking of you both, Commander."

Fox lowered the datapad in his hand to shoot a look in Hound's direction. "Sergeant, don't you have that ARF PR stunt tomorrow at 0800?"

Hound shrugged. "Yeah, but I can do both."

"Make sure you don't miss it," Fox ordered sternly. "The last thing I need is to have to report to the Chancellor that you missed a chance to give the GAR a boost in civil opinion."

Hound saluted and Fox turned his attention to the other break room occupants. "Thorn, if you let your stubble get any longer, it'll be considered a beard and subject to facial hair regulations. Thire, sit on the chair like a normal being, would you?"

Thorn nodded and Thire grinned as he let the chair's legs slam onto the floor. Fox rolled his eyes at their antics, refilled his cup of caf, and left the break area. Hound idly wondered how many of the gray hairs appearing at the Head Commander's temples were due to the commanding officer team. Still, the Chancellor had let Fox choose his own team of COs, so there was no one to blame but himself.

"Meet at 2100?" Thire asked. "That's prime time for 79's and there'll be plenty of talent. I'll go ahead and apologize, vode. When you look this good, you automatically get your pick of the females."

Thire brushed a hand back across his hair - meticulously trimmed to maintain the subtle horizontal lines shaved into the otherwise regulation cut - and grinned at the other two. Hound and Thire rolled their eyes, but agreed anyway.

---

Kai I

"Hey, do you guys want to go to 79's tonight?" Kai asked, perched on the desk she was supposed to be sitting behind. She was always restless and neither of the other women blamed her for the odd choice of seat - even though it made inter-desk communication a bit of a pain.

Arkularia - who, for the sake of Kai's sanity, allowed the others to call her 'Ark' - was the first to respond. "79's? The clone bar?"

"Do you want to drink, dance, or find a one-night stand?" Ransom asked from behind her expansive tech setup. "Because there are better places for any of those. Closer, too."

"No, I want to go to 79's," Kai said, kicking up her chin. "And as for what I want… I want all of them. All three options, please and thank you."

"Did you just try to order a night out? Like from a menu?" Ransom asked. From the tone of her voice, Kai had managed to earn a rare smile from her boss. Of course, that was only a guess since Ransom didn't emerge from her den so Kai could verify the expression.

"No… but can you imagine how much easier that would be?" Kai asked in her own defense.

"It would take some of the fun out of it, I think," Ark said slowly.

Kai chucked a wad of flimsi at her friend and co-worker's head, cheering to herself as it connected and bounced off of Ark's white-blonde hair. "I know that, Ark! C'mon guys, do you want to come to 79's with me or not?"

"I'm out," Ransom said immediately, shutting down the projector option on her desk. She was still illuminated by the ambient light from the schematics on her datapad. The cybernetic implants in Ransom's arm gleamed in the blue glow as she dragged a hand over her shaved head. "I have to work late if we have any hope of finishing our next job on time."

"Ark?" Kai asked, not too proud to sound like she was begging.

Ark sighed, pale eyes hopeless in the face of Kai's wheedling. "Fine, I'll go along."

"Yes!"

"Ransom, are you sure you can't come, too?" Ark asked, her voice a bit desperate.

"I really do have to stay and work on this," Ransom apologized, gesturing at her assortment of datapads. "My condolences."

"We're going to a club, not facing a firing squad!" Kai admonished. "Besides, I just want to find someone fun."

"Like that last guy?" Ark asked, squinting a bit as she applied her prodigious memory to her own question. "What was his name?"

"Not sure," Kai admitted. "But he was so much fun! Great tattoos."

"So you are looking for a hookup! I knew it," Ransom crowed.

Ark frowned. "Why a clone trooper? They're never on-planet for long before they have to leave."

"Exactly," Kai said with a wink. "Love 'em and leave 'em."

"Didn't the last one stick around for a while? I thought I remembered seeing him more than a few times…" Ark pondered.

"Hardcase! His name was Hardcase," Ransom remembered. "He came by every day of his leave."

"Strange name," Ark commented.

"Strange guy," Ransom said with a shrug.

"But he was hot," Kai countered, folding a piece of flimsi to look like a tooka. At least it did in her imagination. "And so much fun. I need another someone like him."

"What happened to him?" Ark asked curiously.

Kai would have blushed if she had any shame - too bad for Coruscant that she didn't. Instead, she pouted. "He moved on with a Zeltron who works at GAR headquarters. That's the best place to meet troopers, but they don't give access to civilians unless they have official business."

"Hardcase didn't seem like the type to ghost you out of nowhere," Ransom mused.

"I… may have freaked out about him asking me to be his girlfriend," Kai admitted. "I don't want anything serious, you know? Besides, I'm the one who introduced him to the new girl. She's a sweetheart. He adores her and she's the same about him. Can't be too upset with that."

Ark and Ransom exchanged loaded glances, but Kai had no interest in a therapy session. "Right! So, Ransom, you're still out?"

"I have no interest in coming along and I have work to do here."

"Well, that was almost nice," Kai congratulated. "Ark, it's you and me. When should we go?"

Ark shrugged. "Why don't we just stop there on the way home from work?"

"Are you kidding?" Kai asked, aghast at the idea. "We aren't exactly wearing Senatorial dress, but we're still too professional for a club! No, we need to go home, change, and meet there. How long do you need?"

"I don't know… half an hour?"

"How long do you need to find an outfit that makes sense in a club setting?" Kai rephrased her question.

"Two hours," Ark corrected herself, sounding sheepish.

"That's more like it," Kai said, satisfied. Her look turned wicked as she said, "Now, let's talk about makeup…"

"Are you sure you don't need any help here, Ransom?" Ark asked their boss, her eyes widening with hidden significance.

"No, it's too late!" Kai denied. "Meet me at my apartment and I'll help you. Let's say eight."

Ark glanced back at Ransom, who gave a sympathetic shrug. Ark sighed. "Fine, eight."

---

A/N - Hello, and welcome to yet another Clone Wars-based story! I can't leave these poor guys alone. They deserve so much more than they got! So, you may have noticed that some of the characters are a bit different from the way they are normally portrayed in fan fiction. The first fic I read with the Coruscant Guard had Thire as a happy joking guy and Thorn as a serious doom-and-gloom trooper. I'm coming to realize that is not typical for fanon interpretations, but those characterizations are embedded in my mind. I hope you didn't find this too jarring!

I'm experimenting with a new Game of Thrones-style POV tracking format. Hopefully that will keep things from getting too confusing as we bounce back and forth across eight different POVs! I apologize for the short length of this chapter, but it's just a simple introduction of (most of) the characters.

[lifesmold]

❝ hello, albedo, ❞ the frequency with which they've started to appear at the laboratory without so much as a by your leave has been increasing exponentially recently ——— it's hardly as though he can help it : ALBEDO IS HERE. where else should kaeya be found at any time of the day, carrying two books underarm and one in hand with a pretty woven bookmark sticking out horizontally ( underlining a passage, the house was filled with the smell of it, the last misshapen, sweet—heavy berries of the season losing their shapes on the stove [ ... ] and so, as the light died, we put our mouths on the last lovable, the too—full, the easy—bruised, we shouted... ) that is deposited quite casually atop the papers sitting before albedo / kaeya SMILES when he automatically shifts several things to the side. ❝ dare i ask what you're getting up to? have you discovered the wonders of life, in my absence? ❞ there is the nape of albedo's neck / that he aches to kiss / and he brushes his fingers against it / light as snow flurries as he walks by.

such a sudden intrusion into his personal quarters would once have resulted in beautifully painted vitriolic words, decorated in the finest golds ( because albedo was an artist and so even his verbal berations had to be crafted in a way that captured the true essence of his exasperation ) befitting someone like kaeya. there would have been a gleam to his eyes; an irritation that lay dormant behind a tight pressed smile and then the studies of the day would be forced aside to make room for whatever nonsensical thing the cavalry captain would start to discuss. a sigh would leave albedo at some point throughout the ( one sided ) conversation as he’s dragged away from the comforts of the scientific and forced into the world of snowstorms and mysterious smiles.

that was the expected results / what was meant to be the unchanging results —— and yet. and yet.

kaeya walks into the room and albedo hums at the company. kaeya moves to drop the book in his hand and albedo reacts by shifting the more important paperwork ( research notes from sucrose in regards to their latest organismic study and a family portrait drawn by klee ) to give the book its own spot among his things / having claimed a place in his world just like the man who had brought it — a sentiment that after extensive research, albedo could say was shared between the two. and what a treasure and what a pleasure it is to have the privilege to even humor such a thought. to be one of the few / one of the many / one of the only? allowed so close inside the winter storm. to have found something akin to structure within the ever - changing pathways that mapped the individual that was kaeya; to say that he could spare a glance and discern the meaning behind different glimmers of the eye.. perhaps this was where the heights of his abilities was meant to shine brightest.

it’s when the familiar chill of snowflakes land on skin that his gaze moves to meet his company ( as if the attention had been on anything but him from the moment kaeya had stepped in the room, already getting in position for what’s become their favorite song and dance routine ) with unashamed curiosity and a matching smile if you were to look close enough; he knew kaeya was.

❛ good afternoon. here to shirk from responsibilities yet again? ❜ but there’s a warmth that’s almost welcoming to his tone, a delicacy to his fingers as hands reach out to grab at the newest additions to the pile. ❛ the wonders of life? not yet, i’m afraid. such perplexities are too steeped in the unknown to be entirely unraveled in a day’s time. though if you continue to bring me such gifts, i fear it’ll take me even longer to find that meaning. ❜ is what he says but it’s telling the way things are moved aside to give the books precedent / how he’s setting aside the stability of research to focus on the less structured, on the unknown, on the mystery of the man before him.

❛ i can assume you’ll be taking over the remainder of my day, then? ❜ an all too familiar pattern is what they fall into and so; the music begins and their waltz starts. ❛ then lead the way, kaeya. i'm all yours. ❜

@albrich  //  haha hey

[niksixx]

Patience

~Part 4. This will most likely be your favorite part. I know it was mine!~

Pairing: Axl Rose/Vince Neil x Female Reader 

Warning: Vince holds a knife to Axl’s throat dear Jesus Vinnie

A/N: Reblog and comment! Spread the word about Patience!

*Picture is not mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

Tag list: @littlemisscare-all @curly-hudson @julessworldd @madamsixx @headlight-queen @metalheartofgold @ginny-baker-sixx @mickmarstookmyheart @gunsngunners @bex-tothe-rescue

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

You arrive home the next morning to an empty house. Thank God. The boys had another day at the studio you were assuming, which gave you plenty of time and space to turn the kitchen into a full blown bakery.

After a quick shower, you begin to assemble the kitchen into your work space. Cartons of eggs and milk, bags of flour and sugar, tubes and cartons of icing, and multicolor sprinkles litter the kitchen counters. Bowls, pans, and cupcake liners accompany the baking products.

With an apron tied around your waist, you turn on the radio, singing and dancing as you mix up the batter with a smile. This is where you were most happy. In the kitchen, surrounded by loads of treats that would make others happy, too.

“Up next...Guns N’ Roses.”

You freeze, licking the sweet vanilla batter from your fingers, turning your attention to the radio to make sure you’d heard it correctly. A song begins to play, the guitar in the beginning extremely impressive, and you increase the volume, bobbing your head and jumping around to the beat. Holy fuck. Axl can sing.

It’s the first time you’ve ever heard him. He has a raw, raspiness to his voice that’s unlike any voice you’ve ever heard. It’s pleasantly scratchy. It’s unusually rugged. It’s sexy. And not that you would admit it out loud, but Axl’s voice? Ten times better than Vince’s.

There's a knock at your door but you don’t hear it, too focused on the song as you sway your body, feeling the rhythm in your bones. Axl lets himself in, surprised that you’d left the door unlocked, stopping dead in his tracks as he watches you with amusement in his eyes. When he recognizes the song as his own, he quietly shuts the door, leaning against the wall, observing your every motion.

It’s a total contrast from what he saw last night. You’re lively now, freshly showered and clean, grinning from ear to ear, no care in the world. He loves this look on you.

The song comes to an end and you pout, but then your eyes focus on the man standing in your home. He wears a proud smirk, and his lips are inviting.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Axl says, coming into the kitchen. He wraps you in a hug, kissing the top of your head. You notice the kiss lingers a bit longer than usual.

“Axl, you’re amazing,” you say, and his heart soars. Your eyes, your voice, hold nothing but sheer adoration. “What was that song?”

“Sweet Child O’ Mine,” he replies proudly, taking in the sight of your messy kitchen. Oh shit, what was he about to get himself into? “Jeez, did something blow up in here?”

Chuckling, you throw him an extra apron. He raises an eyebrow at first in protest, but then wraps it around his waist after you mentioned that cupcake batter doesn’t come out of jeans. It does, though. But seeing Axl in a bright yellow apron will provide you with comedic relief, so you force him to put it on.

“Well I loved it. I don’t know why Vince won’t let me listen to you guys, but you’re incredible. I hope it comes on again,” you answer. “Now, how much experience do you have with baking cupcakes?”

And as Axl stares back at you blankly, all you can do is laugh. The next three hours were going to be fun. You could just tell.

~~~

“Who in the hell needs fifty fucking cupcakes?” Axl asks as you both scan all the flavors spread out on your counters. Chocolate. Vanilla. Red velvet. Funfetti. And that’s not including the surplus of icing flavors you have yet to douse the cupcakes in.

“My friend Lei, the owner of the restaurant we met in, she’s throwing her son this huge ninth birthday party. The boy has like twenty friends alone, and that doesn’t include all her family members that will be there,” Wiping your hands on the apron, you fish two butter knives from a drawer, handing one to Axl. “She was my first friend when I came to LA. I love her family. I never charge her the full price, but she always tips generously so I don’t mind.”

“So how am I supposed to do this?” Axl asks, picking up a small carton of icing, ripping off the lid. “I don’t wanna screw this up.” While he was there to help, Axl also wanted to impress you, though he barely knew his way around a kitchen. The best he could do, on a good night, was pasta.

“It’s easy. Watch me.” You dig the knife into the chocolate icing, swirling the metal utensil a few times before pulling out a bountiful amount. “So you take this much and then slap it on the top of the cupcake. And then you spread it around. Make sure to get the sides.”

Axl catches on quick. Soon, he’s icing the cupcakes like a pro while the two of you dance along to the radio music. A few songs you’re familiar with, some by Freddie Mercury, Poison, and even Mötley Crüe.

You smile. Axl rolls his eyes as he listens to your boyfriend's screeching voice, but it doesn’t keep him from dancing with you.

He loves this. He loves seeing you so happy, and he loves knowing that he contributes to part of your happiness.

His enthusiasm in the kitchen doesn’t last long, though. After icing fifteen cupcakes, he’s fallen bored. Beside him, you sway your body, eyes focused on the cupcake in front of you, when Axl gets an idea.

He checks to see if you’re watching him before he scoops a dollop of strawberry icing onto his finger. “You have icing on your face,” he says calmly, holding back his laugh.

Glancing toward him, your eyebrows pull together. “Where?”

And your eyes go wide as he spreads the sweet cream across your lips. “Right there.”

For a second, he’s worried you’re upset. You don’t move, you don’t flinch. But then you startle him as you swipe a line of vanilla icing across his cheek. He’s taken aback, and you smile innocently. “Oops.”

Game on.

He dips another finger in the chocolate icing, drawing a horizontal line across your forehead, and you counter with more strawberry icing, two fingers skimming across his nose.

A full on icing war erupts in the kitchen as you and Axl grab the butter knives, flinging the cream at each other. It goes everywhere: Your faces, your aprons, the fridge, the counters, the floor, and somehow gets on the ceiling. The kitchen looks as if a bomb was set off, the poor cupcakes rest on the table, half un-iced. Icing is everywhere it shouldn’t be, but you’re having the time of your life with your best friend. Your heart is full.

“Okay, okay, I surrender!” You beam at Axl who cocks his head curiously, but he stalks toward you when you put your hands up in defeat. He returns to his position beside you, giving you a look before grabbing another cupcake to decorate.

You’re too quick for him as you sneakily dig your finger into the vanilla icing. By the time he sees you and tries to protest, your fingers are brushing the icing across his mouth, a look of triumph on your face. “Gotcha. I win.”

He sets the knife down with a grin, turning back toward you. Grabbing your wrist, his brings your hand to his mouth, eyes dark.

“What are you doing?”

Slowly, his lips wrap around your fingers, tongue swirling around to collect the sweetness. Lips parted, your breath is shaky, just like your legs, as you feel his warm tongue lick the cream from your fingers. He knows what he’s doing. He’s driving you wild while also testing you. To see how far you’re willing to let him go.

You almost whimper when his lips unwrap from your digits. He smirks, dropping your hand, and steps forward. His breath fans over your face, and he’s so close to you, but not close enough. “You still have cream on your lips.”

“Yeah, I…” You swallow slowly, nodding your head. “I know. So uh...do you.”

Another step forward from Axl has your head spinning. There’s a darkness to his eyes, one of pure lust as they flicker to your cream coated mouth. His hand, soft and gentle, grazes the skin of your collarbone before it wraps around the back of your neck. Leaning into his touch, you lick your lips once, hands pressed against the fabric of his cutoff t-shirt. He’s going to kiss you. Fuck, he’s going to kiss you.

“Axl--.”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” his voice is tender and smooth, quiet, almost as if he’s just as nervous as you are. Only on the outside, he’s calm, unflinching.. And he’s ready, but not unless you are too. “Tell me this isn’t what you want.”

But you can’t.

You can’t say anything like that.

Because it’s not true.

Because you do want it.

Because you want him.

And when he dips down to your face, noses touching, lips dusting against lips, you melt. You fall apart under his touch as his lips mold with yours in the sweetest kiss, and not because of the lingering taste of vanilla and strawberry icing.

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you kiss him back, hard, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him against you. He backs you against the counter and you don’t have a chance to draw in a breath, lips working together in passion, in fiery need.

The air around you is buzzing, your head is spinning with thoughts of him, of Axl, of the boy he was and the man he is now. In a kitchen, in a home that you share with your boyfriend, is where you're kissing your best friend and loving every minute of it.

But as you kiss him, you realize that he’s no longer a friend to you. He’s something more. He's always been something more. Something as simple as a kiss has opened your eyes, your heart.

The more you kiss, the more intense it gets. You’re lost within it, and you don’t want to be found. It feels right. Axl feels right.

With each swipe of his tongue against your own, he steals your breath. The kiss feels like lightning as it cracks against the sky, and your heart is just as loud as thunder.

You kiss long, you kiss hard, until the faint sound of an opening door pries your bodies apart. Staring at Axl, you’re breathless. He’s breathing heavy, and his eyes are focused on the man behind you.

You don’t want to turn around. You already know who is standing in the doorway, watching the scene in front of him unfold.

And when you turn around, your fears are confirmed. Vince stands, one hand on the doorknob, the other slack at his side. His eyes are sharp, cutting through you, as he steps inside and slams the door.

It’s eerily silent at first. Axl’s eyes are on Vince, your eyes are on Vince, and Vince’s eyes are somewhere looking between the both of you.

And you whisper, “Vin--.”

But he holds up a hand, silencing you. He stalks into the kitchen, eyes only focusing on Axl as he says in a menacingly low voice, “I don’t want to know why you’re in my goddamn house, but you have three seconds to take yourself outside before I crush your skull with my bare hands.”

“Vince!”

He pins you with a glare, daring you to challenge him.

All you do as a response is release a sigh of relief. He hadn’t seen the kiss.

Axl gives you one last look. Your eyes plead with him not to go, not to leave you alone with Vince. He was sober, luckily, but sometimes, he was scarier that way.

~~~

Not even the second Axl steps foot outside is when he feels himself being slammed, back first, against the side wall of the house. Vince grips the collar of his shirt, lips curled back in a snarl, eyes crazed.

“What do I need to do to get you to stay away from my girl, huh? Do I have to kill you? Huh?”

“You won’t do shit,” Axl replies nonchalantly, rolling his neck. He refuses to let Vince intimidate him. “Me and Y/N are friends. Get the fuck over it.”

The bricks of the wall press harder into Axl’s back, and he bites down on his tongue to keep from making a sound.

“Then you don’t know me.”

Something cool presses against the base of Axl’s throat, and he swallows, breathing through his nose to calm his racing heart. He feels the rough ridges of the blade against his skin, and he shuts his eyes briefly, trying to remain calm.

“You know what that is,” Vince taunts. “One wrong move and you’re done.”

Vince backs away, and Axl can finally breathe.

They stare at each other, eyes calculated, fists clenched, jaw set. There’s no way they’ll ever be able to settle the hatred between them. The animosity they feel, it’s too strong. They’re both fighting for the same girl, but only one of them will win.

“Get off my property,” Vince says gruffly, poking a finger in Axl’s chest. “And stay the hell away from my girl.”

~~~

Axl arrives home in a fury, slamming the door behind him, smashing an open palm against the wall.

He’s never felt so enraged before.

So threatened.

Scared that maybe Vince was actually crazy enough to hurt him.

He mutters a string of curses under his breath, forehead pressed against the wall. He should’ve done something, fought back, but instead he let Vince have the upper hand.

Axl’s heart raced at the thought of you at home with Vince. God, he shouldn’t have fucking left. Vince...the damn bastard had already laid his hands on you once. What if you were fighting right now? What if he hurt you again?

“Fuck!”

He slams his palm against the wall again, ignoring the sting. When he turns around, breathing heavily, he pauses, eyes flickering from one bandmate to another.

“Uh…” Steven trails off, glancing at Izzy, who shrugs his shoulders.

“Are you good?” Slash asks, feet raised on the coffee table.

Duff squints, coming forward, poking Axl’s cheek. “What the hell is on your face? Paint?”

“It’s icing,” Axl says, grabbing a napkin to wipe the residue from his face. He can’t wait to shower, wash off all the icing, the anger.

“Do we want to know?” Izzy asks, shutting off the TV.

Oh, boy, where to start.

“I went to Y/N’s to help her bake cupcakes and then it turned into this big icing war and before either one of us knows what the fuck is going on I kissed her and it was the best kiss I’ve ever had in my life and then the door opens not even a minute later and fucking Vince walks in but I’m positive he didn’t see anything becasue if he did I wouldn’t be standing here right now and--.”

“Wait, stop,” Steven says, brows raised, finger pointed. “You made cupcakes and didn’t even bring any home?”

“Steven!” Izzy shrieks, startling the rest of the band. “How is that the only thing you picked up from the fucking story?”

“And that’s not even the worst fucking part,” Axl groans, hand tugging at his hair. As he swallows he can still feel the pressure of the blade on his jugular. “Vince held me at knifepoint.”

“He what?” Slash stands, eyes blazing.

“And you let him live?” Duff emphasizes, arms crossed.

“Well I wasn’t going to fight the dick,” Axl says, hands thrown in the air. “He had a switchblade on my throat, Duff. The only thing I was thinking about was getting out of there alive.”

“This is war,” Steven says, retrieving his own switchblade from his back pocket, finger gently sliding up the blade.

“Is Y/N okay?” Izzy asks, already have taken a liking to you.

Axl can only hope. “I have no idea. I don’t think he’d be stupid enough to hurt her again.”

“Wait,” Slash pauses. “What do you mean again?”

Fuck.

Pulling up a chair, Axl sits himself down, hands scrubbing over his face. “She came over last night because they got into an argument and he uh...he hit her.”

The atmosphere shifts. It’s more tense now as no one speaks. Jaws are clenched, teeth are bared, mouths are dry.

“I love her, man,” Axl says quietly, breaking the silence. The other four turn to him, faces softening. “I just want to be with her, you know? I want to hold her hand and kiss her cheeks, everything that Vince doesn’t. I want to protect her and love her the way she deserves. I know I can,” Axl sighs dejectedly, palms rubbing his knees. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. She won’t willingly leave him, and at first I didn't understand but now I do.”

“I don’t,” Duff mutters, voice low.  

“I don’t want to give up but I'm out of options,” Axl says, head hanging. He’s defeated. “I mean, I’ve thought about her everyday for the last seven years. She’s been in my heart all this time.”

“Maybe you just have to take it slow,” Izzy suggests, lips in a thin line. “Be patient.”

A slow smile creeps onto Duff’s lips as he grabs the notepad and pencil from the coffee table. He begins to scribble a few words, erasing and rewriting, tuning out the conversation as he concentrates on making the words on the paper flow.

“What are you doing?” Steven directs to Duff, glancing over his shoulder.

Duff throws the pad to Axl before looking at Izzy and Slash. “Grab your acoustics. Hurry.”

They oblige and come back to the sofa quickly, sitting in a circle. Axl silently reads the words to himself, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Patience?”

Duff nods, tapping the guitar with his pick. “You used to write songs about her, man. If you can’t tell her directly how you feel, then sing it. Start slow, soft.” The blonde glances back to the two remaining guitarists. “Follow my lead.”

“Wait, what can I do?” Steven pouts.

“Be quiet and observe,” Izzy commands.

“Ready?” Duff asks, and Axl nods. “One, two, three, four…”

With music, Axl likes to get creative. He’s used to belting his songs, adding in a few wild screams for good measure, but this song in front of him? It’s special. It’s unlike anything he’s sung before.

To add his own twist to the song, he starts by whistling gently, and slowly but surely, the words, the emotions, come together, and with his bandmates, he creates a masterpiece.

~~~

They play it over and over until their fingers are sore, voices tired.

But each time sounds better than the last.

As Axl tosses the pad back on the table, he glances to his bandmates, a new sense of peace washing over him.

“If this doesn't make her fall in love with you, man,” Steven says. “I don’t know what will. It’s perfect.”

It is perfect.

Every lyric, every feeling poured into the song.

You would love it.

You just had to.

Because if not, he wouldn’t know what else to do.

“So, when do you want to perform it for her?” Slash asks excitedly, setting his guitar between his legs.

Axl smirks, leaning forward on his knees. “How fast can we get booked on MTV?”

[trellanyx]

Let Joy be Unconfined

(AO3)

"You can't be serious."

"As the grave, angel." Crowley's solemn vow was immediately undercut by a high hiccup. Which in turn destroyed Aziraphale's skeptical, faux-disapproving mask as he giggled at the absurdity of their current situation. Crowley looked torn between being proud to make Aziraphale laugh, and irritated that his moment was ruined.

"Crowley, there's no need for this."

"Oh no!" Crowley wagged a finger in Aziraphale's face. The jury was out on whether or not it was because he couldn't actually tell which of Aziraphale's faces was the real one. (If they'd just stop swimming...)

"You impugned my honor, sir! I de...dem--I wanna dance!"

Aziraphale caught Crowley's finger and kissed it. "It's rather impressive that you can remember impugn but not demand, precious."

A goofy smile spread across Crowley's face at the use of Aziraphale's new nickname for him. When Aziraphale tugged on his wrist, Crowley fell willingly into the sofa beside him. He rested his chin on Aziraphale's shoulder and stared up at him with unblinking yellow eyes.

"You're not off the hook, angel. You said I couldn't dance."

Aziraphale sighed, and reached for his already refilling wine glass. "I said demons can't dance. You think you can--"

"I'mma rubbish demon!" Crowley cried, startling Aziraphale badly enough for wine to slosh over his wrist. Crowley selectively ignored his husband's drunken glare to continue, "That means I'm a fab--hic!--dancer."

"I've seen you dance, Crowley," said Aziraphale, resigning himself to continuing this conversation. "1973, remember? The only thing more questionable than your movement was your hideous mustache."

"You only learned one dance," protested Crowley. "How d'you know what the others are s'posed to look like? Hm? Checkmate." 

Reinvigorated by victory, Crowley lurched off of the couch and spun around to face Aziraphale (who noted, with some horror, that Crowley had sobered up just enough to be on speaking terms with balance again).

"C'mon, dance with me." Crowley extended his hand. "Lemme show you what you're missing."

"You're drunk. That's the only reason you're asking."

Truth be told, Aziraphale didn't know why he was protesting. Old habits, he supposed. Another dance, one they'd been performing since the dawn of the earth.

"You're drunk," Crowley retorted. "That's why you're gonna say yes."

It wasn't, actually, but Crowley was clearly on a roll. Aziraphale sighed, and remained still just long enough to be difficult before taking Crowley's hand--

--and shrieking as Crowley pulled him across the floor in a wild jaunt that might be called the swing, if the person calling it that was twice as drunk as they were and suffering a terrible concussion. Somewhere in the shop a racing tune of clarinets and trumpets warbled to life.

"Crowley!"

"C'mon angel, keep up!" Crowley laughed. He didn't seem to care that Aziraphale wasn't dancing so much as clinging to his shoulders and stumbling after him as Crowley hauled him across the room.

"You're going to knock something over!"

Crowley twirled Aziraphale with a fiendish, unapologetic grin. "You think too much, Aziraphale."

"I'm doing the work of two," Aziraphale snapped.

His husband laughed--not a cackle or a snicker, but the joyous peal that was Aziraphale's alone. "The angel's cheeky tonight!"

Aziraphale lost the fight with his facial muscles and beamed. He ducked under Crowley's arm and tugged him close. "Oh for heaven's sake, if we must make fools of ourselves, at least do it properly."

Crowley tried to look as smug as he felt, but his expression held such open adoration that it garbled the message. He put up no resistance as Aziraphale took the lead. Violins lent themselves to the tune while Aziraphale, only slightly better coordinated than his husband, waltzed them through the shop. Not to be outdone, Crowley zigged where Aziraphale zagged, matching his angel's attempts at a choreographed routine with reckless improvisation.

The two of them stumbled and skipped around the room, drunk on wine and the glory of touch. They shuffled through dance styles old and young, and more than a few that'd been forgotten. Eventually they settled into their own rhythm, as they always did and always would. In dance, life, or love, Crowley and Aziraphale were in a class by themselves, moving to a song only they could hear.

Crowley spun Aziraphale once, twice, three times, until tears of laughter rolled down Aziraphale's cheeks that Crowley couldn't help but kiss away. Aziraphale got his revenge a moment later when he seized Crowley, dipped him low, and refused to bring him back up.

Crowley huffed, and trusted Aziraphale with his full weight while they both caught the breath they didn't technically need. The music faded away. The couch shuffled back into position. A few books were kind enough to right themselves before their master could discover they'd ever toppled. Not that it mattered--Aziraphale had eyes only for Crowley, from the long column of his throat to the radiance of his smile.

"You see?" Crowley panted. He made no move to pull himself up yet. "Told you I was a good dancer."

Aziraphale giggled. "Point well proven, my dear. I concede."

"Yeah?" Crowley raised his head. "Where's my reward?"

Aziraphale leaned down and kissed Crowley right where he was, like a scene out of a classic movie. Crowley hummed with pleasure, and cupped Aziraphale's cheek. He stopped the blood running to his head with a thought, just so they could stay like this a moment longer.

"We should do this again. When we're sober," Aziraphale whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Slower. Somewhere bigger."

"You gonna take me to the ball, angel?" Crowley snickered.

Aziraphale kissed his nose. "I confess I'm torn between the idea of showing you off and keeping you all to myself."

"Weeell. There is one other dance we could try..."

Aziraphale glared. "Don't you dare."

Crowley's grin grew wicked. "It's called..."

"Anthony, I swear to God--"

"The horizontal tango!"

Crowley cackled madly at the ceiling.

Aziraphale dropped him.

[otome--fantasy]

Of Demons and Dragons

Ikemen Sengoku Imagine: Being able to turn into a dragon.

Ch.3

Warnings: Swearing, trigger warning for drowning? There is a bath scene in the sixth paragraph where MC goes underwater - completely of her own free will though. Is dragon shenanigans a warning?

The next morning you were left to wake up at whatever time you pleased. There was no knocking on the door, no vassals or guards who'd come to fetch you, and no ungodly sunlight to disturb you. For the first time since your arrival, you slept like the dead. Perhaps it was your body compensating for your quick recuperation. With a grumble, you sat up in bed, the tug of the stitches once again reminding you to be careful with what you do.

Maybe...

You were already thinking of what to tell Ieyasu if this ended badly. Telling him you bumped into some furniture and accidentally ripped your stitches seemed like the best one. Sure he would call you stupid and clumsy, but he probably already thinks that of you so really what do you have to lose? You stripped yourself of your night attire, examining the stitched wounds along your side before running your fingers over them. The skin didn't feel sore, or tender, maybe this wouldn't end in you running to Ieyasu's quarters.

The nail of your index finger grew longer and sharpened to a point with a curved arch - much like the talon of a bird, and with a deep breath you used it to cut the stitchs of one of the wounds on the side of your hip. It hadn't hurt, if anything your felt a bit of relief with the skin not having to be pulled so tautly. What did feel...odd however, was when the stitches were pulled. It stung and felt like hair was being pulled from the spot, but it wasn't so painful that it would make you stop. Yes, you stood there for a good hour or so just pulling out your own stitches. It would have taken less time had you not struggled with the ones on your back, but you didn't have a mirror to look in to, so you had to just feel for them till you got them all.

With a relieved sigh, you stretched before examining what was left of your wounds. There was only subtle traces left behind - pink, shiny scar tissue that felt smoother and softer than the skin around it. Maybe in a day or two, three at most the scars would be gone, but for now you thought it best to play the part of the wounded princess - though the thought left an unsavory taste in your mouth.

You officially started your day by freshening up and requesting the maids to start a bath for you. The hot water felt wonderful on your skin and helped your muscles relax. With a deep breath in, you closed your eyes and plunged yourself below the surface. You felt yourself become practically weightless in the water, with the only thing grounding you being the bottom of the tub against your lower back. You allowed your arms to drift up as you entered a sort-of meditative state, but when you heard someone's muffled voice calling your name frantically you emerged with gasp - scaring the maid who had been standing at the edge of your tub.

"Oh have mercy!" She cried out with both her hands over her chest, "I thought something had happened to you, Milady! I didn't see you in the bath," she was frantic, "And no one had seen you leave, I- I thought that perhaps you had slipped and fallen, or were hurt-" she rambled, completely hysteric.

You sat there and listened, moving your soaking hair out of your face before making your way over to the side she was standing next to. You gently placed your hands on hers and pulled them up, "Hey, hey, hey, calm down," you spoke in a soft voice in an attempt to get the girl to quiet down and listen, "I'm fine." She looked at you, feeling a bit embarrassed, "I apologize, for worrying you."

"It's alright," she took a deep breath, still trying to calm down, "You were simply enjoying your bath, miss."

You nodded before releasing her hands and sitting back in the water, "I've left you some fresh towels and rags on the shelf ma'am, p-please take as long at you need," she smiled and nodded before quickly scurrying away - probably still embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

After she'd left, you reached over to the shelf that was, conveniently, an arms length away from the edge of the tub and grabbed a small rag to scrub yourself with. You stayed in the water till it got cold and decided to get out and return to your room, wrapping your hair in a towel and yourself in a robe before you left the bathhouse. You hadn't paid any attention to the vassals who were training in the yard and stopped to look at you, till one ran up to you and stopped you in your tracks, "Good afternoon, Princess!"

He was a handsome young man, with young and bright features that would suggest he may be in his early 20's. He looked too old to be a teenager but too young to possibly be an experienced and seasoned soldier. His bright eyes and innocent smile were almost as infectious as Mitsunari's, and his brown locks framed his face freely.

"Yes?" You raised your brows at him questioningly, not quite sure what this man wanted.

"Pardon me, Milady, my name is Soji Okita. I'm a vassal of Lord Masamune," he bowed to you respectfully, and just when you thought his smile couldn't get any brighter, it did.

"Is that supposed to impress me?" You gave him a sly smile.

"No," he chuckled, forgetting for a moment that he was talking to an 'Oda Princess', "I suppose not..."

There was a small moment of silence, before you pursed your lips, and your smile became awkward, "Well I best get going," you should really go to your room and get dressed. You stepped around him to continue on your way.

"Wait!" He quickly whirled around to follow you, "Do you need help getting back to your room? An escort? A lady shouldn't walk so far on her own." He was following you now.

"No, I assure you I can handle myself," You shot him a quick smile before you picked up your pace.

"But Milady-"

"Shouldn't you be training, with your fellow vassals?" A familiar voice that you had gotten fairly acquainted with due to the council meeting the previous night, reached your ears, "After all, you all are training so hard to prevent what happened to the Princess from happening again, aren't you?"

Mitsuhide.

You could practically hear your dragon hissing in your ear.

"Y-yes, sir," Soji's smile faded, and he gave the both of you a bow before scurrying off.

You rolled your eyes and continued to your quarters, "That goes for you too, Mitsuhide. Go away."

"Oh no, I can't just let my Lord's lucky charm walk alone to her chambers- and in nothing but a bathrobe no less." Smug bastard.

"Like I told that soldier, I can handle myself." Now you were walking so fast you had to place a hand on the towel wrapped on your head to keep it from falling off.

"Like you did on the battle field?"

At that you stopped and turned to glare at him, "I have the mind to strangle you with my towel- I will not tell you again, Mitsuhide. Fuck. Off." You quickly whipped around to speed walk.

"And speaking of which."

Damn it.

"How does a girl like you survive such a grisly attack? Shot in several different vital spots- your neck, back, and side. There was a reason Ieyasu didn't think you were going to make it."

"Perhaps, I am as lucky as your Lord might believe."

"Oh we both know that isn't true." You could here the amusement in his voice. He knew he was getting under your skin, "The temple- a fluke, but that battle? Impossible."

You grabbed the tip of your towel and quickly unraveled your hair from it before whipping around and chucking the material at the white-haired warlord, "Oh would you give it a rest already?! What do you want from me?!"

"The truth." He effortlessly caught the damp fabric, his calmness on the matter only serving to anger you more.

"You're one to talk!" You threw your hands in the air, "Always sneaking about, not even Hidayoshi trusts you!"

"He doesn't trust you either."

With an enraged hiss you swiped at him, your nails growing in length and sharpening as your hand rapidly sailed through the air. Mitsuhide was of course, quick, and you hadn't exactly tried to hide your intentions so it was easy for him to predict and move out of the way. He stepped back, leaving a poor defenseless column to suffer your wrath. The wood cracked and gave way under your strike, causing the column to break horizontally and splinter out the other end.

"My, my, what great strength you have." He chuckled. He wasn't going to lie, he had been surprised by your blatant show of your...abilities, but then again, one common denominator in every odd occurrence thus far had been your temper.

You turned to look at him, forgetting to keep yourself in check as you glared at him with your dragons vivid, piercing hues and slited pupils.

"Are those your eyes, or is it a trick of the light?"

That's when you relized what you were probably doing, and you didn't hesitate to flee the scene of the crime. Where would you go? Your room? No, Mitsuhide could follow you there and pester you. Hidayoshi isn't an option, he still doesn't trust you, and even if he did what would you tell him? No one knows anything except-

Sasuke.

You made a beeline for the castles main entrance where you would flee into town in search for Sasuke, the only person who knew anything. Would he even be in town? He had to be, how else would he be able to come and go so freely? Whatever. If you had to leave town, you would as long as it ment you could find a safe haven for a little while.

"Princess!"

"Miss!"

"Milady!"

"Where are you going?!"

Several maids, vassals, and other servants tried calling out to you, but you ignored them as you kept your eyes on the cobblestone road ahead of you, and the closed gates that separated the castle from the village. The closer you got to them, the more they began to rattle and shake as if a strong storm was threatening to throw them open.

When you were only a couple feet infront of them the gates flew off their hinges. The sound got the attention of the villagers in time for them to move out of the way as the metal gate shot past them before clattering to the ground. They couldn't see you run past in the cloud of dust that the ruckus caused, which worked in your favor. You wanted to at least get some distance before you were caught. However, in all the comotion you became disoriented and as soon as you exited the dust cloud you ran into someone- sending both you and them tumbling to the ground.

"Watch where you're going you-" the person who was about to berate you paused for a moment, "You!!"

You glanced up to meet the familiar brown eyes of the man who helped save you from running off the edge of a cliff. The loudness if his voice caused you to snap out of your frozen state and you practically jumped off of him. He raises a brow at you, questioning if it really was you or just someone else who looks like you. The night he met you, you were so different - you were stubborn, headstrong, loud, rude, but also undeniably brave. Now you just seemed...spooked.

"Wha-?"

"Take me to Sasuke," you grab his arm and gaze into his eyes. Your wide-eyed, slightly pale expression caused him to fumble with his words for a brief moment, before he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, "Y-yeah, sure."

He quickly stood, pulling you up with him before he looked to see just what the heck you were wearing. In his peripheral it had looked like a simple white cloth robe, and to his suprise that's just what it was. He blushed when he realized it was a bath robe, "Now just wait a second!" He cleared his throat, "Just what are you planning?!" His red flushed cheeks allowed his embarrassment to be on full display.

"What?" Your tone was sharp and your were quickly losing patience, you didn't have time to stand around and straighten your story out.

"You're not wearing anything under that robe! What's wrong with you? Running out in public after a bath?!" He still hadn't started moving.

"Yes, and one could argue that under all your clothes, you aren't wearing anything either," you were beginning to raise your voice, "Now. I'm not playing around, take me to Sasuke!"

"I'm right here," at the sound of Sasuke's voice you whipped around, causing him to throw his arms in the air as if to show you he ment no harm. "Easy there," he narrowed his eyes to examine you, it was obvious you dropped everything you had been doing to run off and come find him.

"What happened?" He placed a hand on your shoulder and lead you into an alleyway, before pulling you into a small hole-in-the-wall noodle shop, Yukimura following close behind. The small restuarant had been fairly empty, save for a platinum blond man sitting in the far corner and a taller man with reddish-brown hair sitting at the bar - both looking vaguely familiar.

"I-" you took a deep breath as you recalled the past few moments that had just transpired, "I didn't mean to show him." Sasuke lead you to a small booth and sat you down, while he sat across from you and Yukimura stood at the edge of the table, "Show who?"

"I didn't mean to show Mitsuhide..." you glanced up at the ninja before you looked back down at the table, "I just got so angry," you ran your hands through your hair, "And before I realized what I was doing, it was done."

"Wait, Mitsuhide?" Yuki looked between the two of you in suprise, and unbeknownst to the three of you, the other two occupants of the restuarant began listening as well after they heard you mention the name of one of Nobunaga's most trusted vassals.

"Did you...?" Sasuke ignored his friend, for now, as he made a gesture with his hands, asking if you transformed, "No, no...but I may have caused some damage to the building," you cleared your throat, "And he saw my eyes..."

"Okay," Sasuke breathed, "Well what happened?"

"He's been getting under my skin since the first day but," with a sigh you leaned in closer to whisper, though in your shaken state it was difficult to keep an even volume and your voice wasn't as quiet as you would have liked, "He's been watching me," you shook your head slightly, "Or paying attention rather..."

Sasuke's brows furrowed before he finally looked at Yukimura, "Can we have a moment please?"

Yuki looked at his friend in suprise, "What, no-"

"You can trust her, she isn't going to try anything." Sasuke was persistent. He understood why his friend didn't want to leave him alone with you after you just mentioned the name of one of his, and his masters enemies, but you both came from the future and therefore held no ties with any of the warlords...yet. Yuki was hesitant, but he eventually walked away to join the towering man who sat at the bar.

As soon as you thought he was out of earshot enough for you to whisper you leaned over the table again, "He's been paying close attention to me, noticing that things tend to," you motioned with your hands while you tried to think of a way to phrase things incase anyone decided to listen in, "happen when I get angry, or emotional in general."

"Have there been a lot?"

"I mean, a few but, I didn't think anyone would notice..."

"I told you these were warlords, they're highly skilled and trained to notice or pick up on things that most wouldn't," he reminded you of the first night, the night he warned you to be careful around those men, "What exactly has been happening?"

"Well," you stopped to think and began picking at your nails, "I know my eyes change sometimes, uh..." of course you wouldn't be able to name instances off the top of your head, some of these things happen without you realizing it, "and the more emotional I get the more...severe these flare ups seem to be."

"I see."

"The most recent incident was when I made Ieyasu's tea explode-"

"You what?!"

"Shh-" you quickly placed a hand on his mouth and looked to Yukimura, who was eyeing you suspiciously, and the man next to him turned and seemed to be watching you from the corner of his eye. You gave them a awkward halfhearted smile before quickly returning your gaze to Sasuke, "To be fair, he kind of deserved it."

"What?" Sasuke blinked and shook his head in disbelief at what you were telling him, "How can you even make that happen without it being obvious?" He was questioning whether or not you were actually trying to be stealthy with your abilities, or if you were just using them willy-nilly.

"I just made it hot, really, really fast."

"How-"

"I just willed it so- anyways." You waved a hand infront of him as if the motion could physically brush the conversation aside, "The one that's been hard to hide is this," you moved the hem of your robe to the side to expose the skin on your shoulder.

"There's nothing there?"

You have him a look, head ticking slightly to the side, you pursed your lips and gave him a blank stare. And then, as if he could read your mind his eyes widened, "Your wounds from the battle."

"Exactly."

"They're gone!"

"Shhh!" You put your hand on his shoulder as if the action would press a button and make him quiet down before moving it back to your side, "I know, which is what really got the ball rolling on this- apparently my wounds were critical. Life threatening. Ieyasu said I should have been out for days, but I slept for 4 hours and I was fine."

"Well just play possum," Sasuke coughed to correct his expression- possoms play dead Sasuke, "play the damsel in distress."

"Yes I already came to that resolve, but Mitsuhide questioned me, Sasuke, infront of the entire council. Luckily I was able to redirect the topic, but it was a really close call."

"Okay... So what do you want me to do? Do I need to get you out of there."

You sighed. Originally you had come to him seeking safe haven, hoping there was somewhere you could go where you could wait out the rest of your stay, with someone who knew what you were, but your conversation from the previous night came to mind. You told Sasuke that, if you disappeared, Nobunaga would come looking for you, "No..." your rubbed your face defeatedly before slamming your fist on the table. An action that caused Sasuke to jump slightly and place his hands on opposite edges of the table, as if he alone would keep the table together should it break under the force of your hand, "I just needed someone I could talk to... Someone who might be able to give me guidance."

"Why don't you just play dumb?"

"What?"

Sauke clarified, "Why don't you just act like you don't know what's going on? If he tries to get information or a reaction out of you, just act like you don't know what he's talking about. You aren't denying any suspicions, but you aren't confirming them either."

"Excuse me." You looked up at the sound of a deep voice coming from the large figure who approached your table. You do recognized him!

"I couldn't help but over hear, that a beautiful dove such as yourself seems to feel threatened," Shingen smiled gently down at you, though his eyes suggested he was watching to gauge your reaction, like he wanted to get a read on your character.

"Did you really over hear the entire thing?" Sasuke looked suprised for a moment.

"Well, no," he admitted, "But I heard enough to know that an innocent woman is in distress." He bowed to you, "And I am fully prepared to whisk her away to safety."

You laughed and smiled politely, "As nice as that would be, I can't just run from my problems," even if that's what you were totally trying to do, "I have to go back and take care of it."

"Ah, a tenacious young woman, I can respect that," his expression seemed to soften somehow.

"Yes well," you slid out of the booth before standing, Shingen stepping out of your way to give you room before you turned to look at Sasuke, "I suppose I should return to the lions den."

"Yukimura and I can walk you back," Sasuke suggested. "What?!" The man in question piped up from his seat at the bar.

"Won't that be dangerous for the both of you?" Somthing dawned on you and you turned to Shingen, "And you too!" You gave the redheaded man a smack on the arm, "What if you're caught?"

He looked shocked at your actions, "Whatever do you mean?" These men, thinking they could say their names around you and you wouldn't remember them- well normally is does take you longer to remember names, but you learned about these men in history class, and though history wasn't your best subject - you heard their names enough in class to recognize them if you heard them again. "Do you think me stupid, Shingen?'

"You remembered my name?" His mouth was slightly agape now.

"Of course," you scoffed, "You all left such an impression last time."

"Even so," he chuckled, "How would it be unsafe here for us? We are merely travelling merchants." You gave him a look to let him know you didn't quite believe him - raising one brow while the other furrowed and topped it off with a lopsided smile, "Sure."

You began to walk off before Sasuke stopped you, "My offer still stands," you turned to look at him, "If you feel unsafe, we can provide refuge for you."

You smiled and nodded, "Thank you, Sasuke. I'll let you know if anything changes, but I at least plan to teach these boys some manners before I leave." Sasuke released you arm with a smile of his own, "Of course, but at least allow Yuki and I to escort you back. It isn't good for a woman to walk around in public with nothing but a bath robe, unless you intend to announce everything to all of Azuchi."

You huffed, "Yes, I suppose you're right." Sasuke waved Yukimura over who sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes before sliding off the stool and making his was over, "Why would you even run out into public with nothing but a bath robe, thats just asking for trouble," he snarked.

As the three of you headed out the doorway, you roughly elbowed him in the ribs, "Lesson number one," you snapped.

"Ow!" He quickly moved a hand to rub his now sore side.

"No one- woman or man asks for anything just because of what they wear or how they look," you turned to gaze at him with narrowed eyes, a look that -had you been a man- he would have taken as a challenge, "If I were to knee you in your crotch right now and you weren't wearing any protective gear, does that mean you were asking to get kicked in the balls?"

His mouth dropped at your crude words.

"No?" You raised a brow, "That's what I thought." You turned and walked back in the direction of the castle, with Sasuke following closely at your side. It took Yukimura a moment, as he sputtered and tried to find his words before ultimately deciding to keep his mouth shut and run after the both of you.

"You know," after a moment passed, Yuki was finally able to find his words.

"Hm?" You didn't look at him, but you acknowledged his words.

"You don't talk like a woman...or act like one."

"Correction, I don't talk like the women your used to," you sneared, "Meek little housewives, doting, wishing and waiting on men who treat them more like property than living beings, who treat them more like maids than life partners, who scorn them for having an opinion of their own." You gave him a sharp look, "For you to tell me that I neither talk nor act like one of your oppressed women, is a compliment."

For the second time today, Yukimura found himself swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. He was going to say that you acted more like a boar than a woman, but he couldn't form words at the moment. You averted your gaze to look away from him just as Sasuke placed his hands on either of your shoulders, "Forgive her, Yuki, she's from a much more peaceful and care free village."

"She comes from somewhere else? What is she doing here in Azuchi then?"

You laughed, but before you could say a word, Sasuke spoke for you, "One of the vassals who lives in this village has hired her as his seamstress."

You turned to Sasuke and gave him a look, not quite happy with the hole he was digging you. A seamstress? Sure being a dragon you've had to pick up a few things to avoid having to buy new clothing on a daily basis, but your knowledge only went as far as repairing tears and holes in your garments. He looked you in the eyes, practically begging you to play along.

"Yes," you looked to Yukimura, "but I live at the castle with the rest of the working women."

A silence fell over the three if you as you continued down the villages dirt road, earning odd looks here and there from several of the customers and shopkeepers along the trail. Yuki found himself looking around nervously, unsure if any of the villagers would be willing to assault a barely clothed woman being escorted by two men. You and Sasuke however, were a stark contrast- the both of your were calm and walked with your heads held high, as if there wasn't a thing in the world that could harm you.

Unbeknownst to any of you however, there were most certainly people out looking for you. Hideyoshi and Mitsunari were currently scouring the village for you. One of the maids had informed them while they were making their way down the castle halls, that she returned to your room about an hour after you left the bathhouse to find your quarters empty. She was frantic that something may have happened to you, and they recieved several reports from the practicing vassals that they saw you trying to get away from Mitsuhide before you left their line of sight.

However, you noticed Yuki and Sasuke become ridged and a bit more robotic at the same time that the hair at the back of your neck stood on end. Someone was watching you, and not in the awkward gawking manner that the villagers were- it felt like someone was observing you, studying you, approaching you.

"There you are!"

You froze at the familiar sound of Hideyoshi's voice and about faced to look at him, "Hideyoshi"

"What were you thinking?!" He stormed closer to the three of you, frantically removing the outermost layer of his garb to wrap around you, "And in nothing but a bath robe?!"

You allowed him to drape the fabric over your shoulders, quickly shoving your arms through the sleeves before he closed the opening infront of you, and tightly tied the kimono shut. "Oh good! You found her!" Mitsunari came around Hideyoshi to stand infront of you with a gentle smile, "You had us all worried, Milady."

"I'm sorry," you apologized, "I shouldn't have acted so rashly, it was dangerous and stupid and unnecessary."

"Nonsense," Mitsunari looked at you sympathetically, "Mitsuhide said it was his fault for talking to you so rudely. He admitted he had been trying to get under your skin and it frightened you."

Frightened you? Well at least you know he hadn't told anybody about what really happened. But why? Certainly not to protect you... All you know is that now you owe Mitsuhide, and that is one of the last people you want to owe a favor to.

"Yes," you confirmed the story, "I let my emotions get the best of me, and blindly ran away. Luckily I ran into two fine men who talked me down and offered to escort me back to the castle."

As you mentioned them, Hideyoshi looked to both Sasuke and Yuki, with a blank and slightly untrusting gaze, "Thank you both." His eyes narrowed slightly, "Surely there is something we can do for the both of your to repay you for your kindness."

Yuki was about to speak before Sasuke cut him off as he had done before to you, "Nonsense, we merely wanted to make sure this woman got home safely." He bowed slightly with a nod of his head, Yuki followed his actions and remained silent, "She seemed quite distressed, and we just wanted to make sure all was well."

Hideyoshi's gaze softened and he ended the conversation with a small smile, "Well, we thank you for your kind gesture. We can take her the rest of the way." Sasuke nodded, while Yukimura stood still ith a awestruck expression on his face, and with that, Hideyoshi took hold of your arm and guided you away, with Mitsunari following close behind.

[mattelektras]

i think you're a really talented graphics maker! if it isn't a bother, how long does it take you to make an edit of a character and do you recommend any other editors? i'd like to get more inspiration from more people

ahh thank you so much!!! in regards to time it really varies because some of my stuff i make like 1 panel of when i have half an idea and come back to weeks later when there’s more content to edit or whatever like my desktop is... horrific

i try not to think about it. BUT if i started something and finished in the same night maybe??? an hour or so?? depending on the style??? longer for my 9 panel horizontal shit, portrait/vertical stuff doesnt take long at all, and the square stuff is kinds in the middle. as for other graphic makers the comic.edit tag has some super pretty stuff in almost every day n I've always thought that was the best way 2 see other people’s content