Shingen's Princess, Jonah's Queen, Le Comte's Girl

I’ve recently gotten into making pixel art and today I’ve finished my very first big project! I’m still new to making patterns, but I guess it turned out okay for a first try :D To make the end result, I’ve used a material called Pixel Hobby, which is produced by a local Dutch company and it’s so much fun to do! 

Start

After drawing up the pattern, it was time to get started. I spent probably around 30 minutes in the crafts store to pick out the right colours hahaha. I obviously had to work with a limited range of colours which differ from the actual pattern I made (for which I colour picked Fenrir’s sprite), but I think they turned out pretty well anyway.

Pixel Hobby produces these mats of tiny 3 x 3 mm plastic pixel beads you press onto a pegboard that come in different sizes. This one is 10 x 12 cm and Fenrir is made up of two of those. The beads are so tiny that you have to pick them up with tweezers! 

Progress

I always start with the black outlines, then add some details and then slowly start filling in areas. The bigger areas like his skin and his hair take the longest to do, but with some nice YouTube videos in the background it’s a pretty relaxing activity I find. For the background I decided to do something different than on the pattern and I went for stars. 

Close up

This is a close up from the WIP. Here you can see one of the mats with beads. You have to tear them loose from the mat with tweezers and then press them onto the pegs on the board. :3

End result - once more

And this is how he ended up lookin’! 

I was rereading @ikesenhell‘s series Hostile Takeover (PLEASE read it if you haven’t already, I beg you) and I believe that was where I first encountered the term “titty window”. Didn’t know that that’s what it’s called thanks Yesha lol

@mythiica I’m also such a fan of your work, so your saying that means a lot! I hope you enjoy this one.

Also it’s a double update, which in my blog happens as often as a shooting star. I hope this makes your self-quarantine days more bearable.

“I’m not complaining, but you’re looking at me a whole lot.”

The banquet is in full swing—in fact, if the banquet is to be compared to an actual swing, it resembles one that is about to have the chain links snap. Almost everybody is drunk except for the two Uesugi-Takeda patriarchs. The only noticeable difference is the speed at which Kenshin is finishing his drinks (faster, not slower) and the faint flush on Shingen’s face—but that’s only because he hasn’t been drinking a whole lot.

You’re somewhere in between Yukimura’s slightly slurring speech and Sasuke’s unconscious body at the side of the room: almost drunk, but still ahold of your consciousness.

Which is why your answer to Shingen’s question was: “Nothing. Sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring.”

He’s obviously still sharp enough to tell that something’s off, but not in a way that he doesn’t like. So when he opts to go for it and scoot over closer to sit next to you, you feel mild panic rising into your chest at the now almost non-existent distance between the two of you. And speaking of chests…

“You like what you see?” Of course he’s not pulling back any punches. You’re definitely blushing, if you weren’t already pink in the first place. Looks like he’s liking what he’s seeing on your face.

“It’s just that—I never realized you wear your kimono so… loosely.”

“Yes, it’s a habit I’ve garnered since my younger days. I’ve always disliked being suffocated by my own clothes.” And at that he leans backward, propping himself up with a hand and allowing more of the expanse of his chest into view. 

Yep, he knows definitely knows what he’s doing. You take another swig of your drink before shooting a disdained look towards him. He laughs, thoroughly enjoying the show like he’s not putting on one himself.

“Thirst traps and their titty windows,” you mutter underneath your breath. Shingen, only understanding the words used in that sentence without context, raises both eyebrows before his expression turns back to looking entertained.

“Explain those concepts for me,” he says, using his other arm to coax you closer to him by the shoulders—something you don’t usually allow, but the alcohol in your system has broken down the wall in you that stops him from getting to close, so you move to sit right next to him. Even from your spot you can feel his warm.

“A thirst trap would be you,” you say, sounding as severe and sober as ever, “and a titty window… is this.”

He watch as you boldly tap your pointer finger to the skin of his bare chest. A shiver travels up his spine at your touch. 

“Oh,” is the only response he can muster, for how can he find the strength in him to not bring you into his arms right then and there? He’s not as alcohol-hardy as Kenshin, and the heat from the sake is significantly stripping his self-control away. Defeated, he opts to pinch your cheek with just enough force to surprise you.

“You should quit being so cute,” he says, murmuring your name, “or else this man won’t stop at just showing you his titty window.”

“Shingen,” you pout, and he just has to chuckle at the face that you’re making, masking his surprise as he welcomes you when you walk right into his arms. He pats your back, consoling. 

“You should consider yourself lucky that I’m not pressing sexual harassment charges,” comes your muffled reply. He hums with glee.

“Because you’d actually like to see more than this titty window?”

“No, moron. Because I like you a lot.”

At that he freezes, yet his heart begins beating excruciatingly fast he fears for his own life. Something washes over him slowly—half-sobriety, half-realization, and a pinch of some cynicism: you must be saying that only because you’re drunk.

But when you look up at him, the look on your face is dead serious, though your cheeks are red. He feels the inside of his mouth becoming dry—he hasn’t felt this sensation in a long time, this feeling of helplessness from falling so deeply for someone. He notices your eyes, devoid of the usual veil that is evident of intoxication. They’re as clear as day, and so are your words to follow.

“And stop saying titty window so much. It’s weird coming from you.”

This has the exact same premise as Mitsuhide’s, but it’s semi-NSFW so please be warned!

“Count on Lord Nobunaga’s lucky charm to bestow upon us this stroke of fortune!” Masamune dramatically announces as he all but throws his bundle of goods to the floor of your shared room. You gasp, shout-whispering his name—it’s late, and you really don’t want to alert the whole inn that Date Masamune, the One-Eyed Dragon, happens to be staying the night.

“Didn’t you keep your writing tools in there, you moron?” You scold him as you scramble towards his luggage to check. “What if your bottle of ink spills? I thought you value calligraphy.” 

He laughs, and you feel your irritation quickly simmering down into something quite trivial and mild. He has that power over you. You examine his belongings anyway. He tackles you into a hug from behind, looking over your shoulder. It doesn’t look like a pack of items that just got flung onto a hard floor.

“See?” He pecks your temple. “Lucky charm indeed.”

“For the last time, I’m not a lucky charm,” you pout, literal war flashbacks of you being dragged into battle on top of Nobunaga’s horse replaying in your mind. “Also, if I really did bring luck, we wouldn’t be stuck in a weather like this.”

Masamune spares a glance out the sliding doors leading to the balcony: the low thunderous rumbles from earlier has gradually evolved into heavier rain and lightning. Whatever journey anyone’s going on has to be postponed for later, lest they want to be left drenched and unable to see five feet in front of them, or worse, struck by thunder.

“Storm,” he murmurs, almost melancholy. But he turns to you with that boyish smirk that gets your stomach double-flipping. “At least I’m stuck with you.”

“Of course you’re happy about that.” You retort, still keeping up a snarky facade like you’re not secretly happy about it too. Except…

“You know, Masa.” 

“What?” He asks as he gets up to move to the futon, beckoning you with his arms to do the same.

“The guests we saw downstairs? The ones checking in before us?”

“What about ‘em?” His eye sparkles. You know he knows. He just wants to hear you say it. You hesitate—should you even entertain his thought, even though it’s something you legitimately want to discuss? 

Finally you let it slip, but not without sounding a bit hesitant. “They look… seedy,” you say, situating yourself in his arms. Masamune holds you reassuringly, a contradictory teasing look on his face. How can a man feel safe and dangerous at the same time?

“Yep,” he replies, confirming your thoughts. You bury your face in your hands as he once again laughs at your dismay.

“I knew it! This place is a love hotel!” His laughter dies down with a pleased sigh.

“I was going to ask what a hotel is, but I think I get it now. Not your fault, Kitten,” he runs his fingers through your hair in hopes to calm you down, “it’s not as if we have a choice—the first two places we passed by were full.”

That seems to restore a little bit of your cool, Masamune thinks as he continues stroking your hair.

“And it’s not as if we haven’t shared a room together, right?”

You nod, meek and embarrassed at your sudden outburst, even though he evidently thinks it’s cute, if the increasingly intimate touches aren’t enough clues. 

“It’s not really the sharing aspect that I’m worried about,” you mutter. He raises a conspiratorial brow, before ducking down to press his lips against your ear.

“What are you talking about? It’s not as if we haven’t done it either.”

At that, your face explodes into a bloom of red, one that reminds him of a boiled tomato. He snickers, more out of endearment than mockery, and he nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing and nibbling your skin liberally. You sigh, defeated, but also because you’re enjoying the treatment. You’re suddenly reminded of where you are and grip his shoulders, a sign for him to stop.

“We’re not doing it on a dirty futon.”

He smirks, and you can tell the words that are inevitably going to come out of his mouth—something teasing, like, “oh? I didn’t say I wanted to.” But thankfully he holds back, patting the fluffy bedding instead. 

“I checked. It’s clean.”

A loud moan from the room next to yours make you jump out of surprise, and it doesn’t look like the red on your face is fading any time soon. As for Masamune, it doesn’t look like the sound bothers him at all. Instead, he hugs you again, gathering you in his chest and staring on amusedly as you bury your face in his kimono, hand over your ears. There are muffled noises from next door and you dare not think of what takes place.

“Impossible for us to sleep like this,” he says, voice rumbling in his ribcage the way thunder does within clouds. “Must be a hell of a romp if you can hear the woman from above the rain like this.”

“I’d rather go on without any commentaries of other couples’ sexual activity, Masa,” you reply, face still against his chest. He strokes your nape the way one would a scared kitten. Then he leans down, kissing your earlobe.

“Not my thing, either,” comes his velvety answer, as his ministrations slowly feel more… encouraging. You wriggle within his grasp while his hands wander, fingers toying with every crevice and curve from above your clothing. His movements are far slower than usual—purposeful, strategic, building up a familiar warmth beneath your gut. You hear the sounds again from next door and somehow it feels less embarrassing.

“Are you turned on?” He asks right into your ear. You feel the tension of the obi around your waist loosening. His hand dances on your back, drawing a deliberate line from your nape to your tailbone. You bite your lip. He sees and decides that he’s got his answer. The fabric of your kimono shifts, leaving your collarbone and shoulders exposed, resting precariously on your chest.

“You know I can make you scream louder than that,” he whispers, teeth scraping the shell of your ear. “I bet you’d love it, too.”

“What makes you so sure?” He stiffens at the change of your tone, one that he knows oh-so-well. He feels your hand slipping into the fold of his kimono onto his naked chest, palm pressed flat against his heart. Your voice is soft in comparison, and he finds it proud, yet full of promise.

“I conclude from the countless amount of times I’ve had you,” his retaliation is a low, guttural growl that makes you shiver, melting against him even more as his hands continue to grasp your behind, “I’m sure I haven’t forgotten how to do it.”

You tilt your head up, lips dangerously close to his. He can taste it—your breath, your tongue, but every time he moves closer, you turn just the slightest, enough to evade him. He can see the beginnings of a smile on your lips, parted just the right amount as they are. God, he wants to kiss you.

“If I recall correctly,” you begin, lashes fluttering as you press light, open-mouthed kisses to his jaw, “the last time we slept together, I had you moaning something along the lines of please put it in?”

Oh, he recalls, your relentless, almost vengeful temptations. If he hadn’t said it, he’s sure you’re not merciful enough to give it to him. Your mouth was hot and wet and perfect, yes, he recalls, so much that he couldn’t resist asking you for it.

“Not as loudly as you begged for me to fuck you.”

At this point, whatever noises outside—the neighboring guests’ obvious sexual conquests and the unrelenting storm—are no longer your concern, only adding to the sweet, heavy air in your shared room as Masamune tugs your kimono down, leaving you bare.

“Is this a competition?” you ask, voice husky and eager. He can just feel his blood rushing south. 

Going to make a series out of them.

of course!!! I hope you enjoy! This was a lot of fun to write.

*** as of now, I will only be doing four of the warlords. This is a recent change that I have made after this was request was sent. I put the warlords through a randomizer to narrow down the four. Please understand why I am doing so. The rules of request have been updated for when they are open again. 

REQUESTS ARE CURRENTLY CLOSED

Please enjoy :) 

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Kenshin, Nobunaga, Mitsuhide and Masamune reacting to MC coming back from the future with their child

Nobunaga Oda

You were in his head every day. He could hear your voice, see your smile, feel your lips against his. He never knew if you’d return or not. But then you did.

It took a lot of strength for him to not go running towards you. Instead, he let you come to him. 

Then he saw the young babe in your arms.

He frowned. The others around him gasped. You had bore a child; his child. 

He wasn’t entirely shocked; with the amount of times that you two made love, it is no surprise that you became pregnant. 

He then becomes… angry. He’s angry at himself that he had to let you go through that wormhole to protect you. He’s angry knowing you would have had to endure pregnancy by yourself, and he wasn’t there to be with you— to support you, to feel the first kicks, to watch your stomach swell.

Everyone is in shock when he turns his back on you and storms back into the castle. 

Of course, he now feels like a fool. You returned to him, and what did he do, he turned his back on you.

He’s running back out and is pulling you into his arms, careful of the baby that is nestled against you. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

“Nobunaga,” you laugh, your free arm wrapping around his neck. Your press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “You were there for me. Maybe not physically, but I could feel you with me every moment. And it’s our child that kept me going and keeping faith that we would find each other once again.”

Masamune Date

For a year he waited for you, rebuilding the temple, looking to the sky in hopes you’d one day fall through it and back into his arms.

And when you did, he never felt more alive.

It was then he saw that you didn’t fall alone. In your arms was a little girl, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. 

“MC… is this… is this my…?”

You nodded, a small smile on your face, a tear drop gliding down your cheek. You lifted the girl slightly, adjusting her so she was looking at Masamune.

He smiled at the girl, taking her from your arms. Immediately she reached for his eyepatch, asking if he was a pirate. He chuckled, he liked this girl already. 

“Do you know who I am?” he asked the little girl.

She nodded. “My dad.”

“Yes, I am!” he chuckled. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him so the three of you were cuddled together. “Did your mother talk about me much?”

The young girl grinned, laughing a little as she looked towards her mother. “Too much.” 

Mitsuhide Akechi

“… wait for me,” you whispered, a single tear falling down your face– like you falling; It took everything in Mitsuhide not to cry with you as he let go of your hand, watching fade into the wormhole.

You were gone for two years,

And waiting felt like a century of torture, but here he was at Honno-Ji, the winds howling and rain pattering violently, but a silhouette appearing amidst the storms chaos. 

However, there was another shadow against yours, a much smaller one holding your hand. Before he knew it, you appeared, you looked just as you did when he lost you,

but clutching your hand was a little girl; There was no denying the child was his by her silver locks and golden gems.

“Mitsuhide!” you cried, running towards him, the girl in your arms. He grabbed you as you lunged yourself at him, his arms engulfing around you… the both of you.

He brought you back to his estate, not bothering to go all the way back to Azuchi— there would be plenty of time for you to see everyone. But right now, he needed to be with just you, and to find out about the little girl.

You explained to him how shortly after you returned to the future, you discovered you were pregnant. Raising her alone wasn’t easy, but knowing in time you’d see him again, 

and the three of you would be together for once and for all, is what encourage you to keep going.

Misuhide reached his hand out towards the little girl, who had been hiding behind your back. “Come little one,” Mitsuhide spoke sweetly, a tender smile on his face. “Come meet your father.”

She slowly crawled towards him, taking his hand and allowing Mitsuhide to sit her in his lap. “I want to know everything about you,” he said, tucking little strands of hair behind her ear.

In time, the little girl slowly opened up to her father. Overall, he was very surprised, but blessed to have not just you returning to him, but a beautiful daughter too. 

Kenshin Uesugi

It devastated him. It broke him. It destroyed him. He couldn’t save you from falling back through that wormhole. 

Everyday, he’d go to the spot that the portal appeared at, and waited for you, hoping that one day you’d walk through it and back into his life.

And one day you did, just this time, you came with someone else; 

A young child. No older than four. 

He was a boy with the same colored hair as yours, but Kenshin’s mismatched eyes. He was hugging onto your neck, and with a doe expression looked at Kenshin.

Kenshin didn’t know what to do at first. He wanted to fall to his knees and cry, he got you back, and you’ve come with a child; his child, no doubt. 

“MC— you— I— you came back to me.” He couldn’t take his eyes off the child. He slowly reached a hand out to brush his fingers against the young boys cheek. 

“Kenshin,” you started, tears sparkling in the corners of your eyes. “I want you to meet your son.”

Everyday, besides making up for lost time with you, Kenshin worked to build a relationship with his son. 

It took time. The little boy had tourble adjusting to time in the Sengoku Era, and he was confused with everything that was happening around him. But Kenshin was able to gain his trust, and help the boy grow to become a great young man. 

~~~~~

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K E N S H I N  U E S U G I ;

“and why can’t i?” kenshin scoffs, downing the sake in his cup and slamming it on the table. you squeak and jump in fright, but its laughably easy for the warlord to catch you.

“i am the god of war.” he pulls you close, icy blue eyes freezing you in place, making you wonder why you thought talking back was a good idea. “it’s only natural for me to kill.” you try to protest, but the sway of his drunken body seems heavier than usual – it takes no effort for him to pin you against the tatami mat.

✧༺♥༻∞∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞∞༺♥༻✧

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle x Female Reader Rated: Mature/Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 3.012

✧༺♥༻∞∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞∞༺♥༻✧

Summary: H*rny Arthur is h*rny. That’s it. That’s the summary.

✧༺♥༻∞∞༺♥༻✧✧༺♥༻∞∞༺♥༻✧

Oh my goodness, the POSSIBILITIES.

I feel like he would be such a judgey taste tester. Like criticizing and calling out the chefs for lack of seasoning, so like his sister he’d end up in the kitchen instead of as a tester. Or maybe all his fiesta backtalk causes some of the lords to take him on as page (I would worry about him with Ieyasu).

I can see him being absolute best friends with Yoshichi and getting in constant squabbles with Smolsuke. I can see him, like his sister, figuring out Masamune’s food prefs.

I do still love the idea of him being semi-adopted by ninjas just by feeding them 😂

Yahiko swallowed hard and coughed a few times which only made Kojuro’s billowing intensify.

“WHY IN ALL THE HELLS DID YOU SWALLOW IT?!” Kojuro yanked him up by the collar, fully prepared to hasten him from the room.

“It wasn’t poisoned, it was just gross.” Yahiko choked out. “No wonder Lord Masamune doesn’t eat anything!”

Kojuro froze into a perfect statue, with no expression whatsoever, still holding Yahiko up by a kimono that was liberating itself from his hakama. 

Shigezane had contained his laughter up to the point Yahiko slowly  started drooping to the floor. Nothing and no one could have stopped the howling laughter that echoed off the walls and set to rest all tension in the room.

“Is that all?” Kojuro finally spoke in a more measure tone as he put Yahiko down again.

“Is that all? I mean yeah if you think eating this sort of thing everyday is all right…” Yahiko trailed off as he stuff his kimono back in his pants, completely heedless of any sense of propriety.

“Masa… this kid needs a promotion. If you aren’t going to give him one, I’ll take him. He’d make a fine page.

Kojuro heaved a deep sigh. “The last thing we need is two troublemakers showing up unannounced.”

“Come on, Masa… Even you have to admit his talent is wasted being a poison taster! Besides, this place could use a little livening up!” Shigezane jabbed Masamune playfully in the ribs with his elbow.

“Later, Shigezane.” Masamune ended the discussion there before turning to Yahiko. “You are dismissed, Yahiko.” Although there was no emotion behind his voice, there was a hint of a smile on his face. 

Kojuro, ever observant of his liege lord, didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, you have done enough for your first day. Please go and rest, Yahiko.” Lukewarm at best, but only because his mind was already on the next step: finding out why Masamune would seem so fond of Yahiko as to smile at him so quickly… “I’ll show you back to your room.”

“Thanks lord Kojuro!” Yahiko positively beamed with pride, taking the praise at face value. “Oh but Lord Masamune! If you ever decide you want some REAL cooking like you used to get in Kyoto, let me know!”

Lord Masamune’s eyes widened a fraction as Yahiko bowed and took his leave. He caught Kojuro before he could leave with a quiet phrase. “Later, Kojuro.”

“Of course, my lord.” With that, Kojuro bowed and left.

Of course Shigezane’s natural curiosity immediately got the better of him. “Say, Masa… what was all that about?” Shigezane leaned in close to Masamune’s face scrutinizing him.

“Later…” Masamune muttered in annoyance before shoving Shigezane back with a pair of fingers to the forehead.

Because I love this so much, So I draw a little ending here! XD

You can read original Piece here

>>Teaching the Tactician By @xathia-89

Masamune : Oh… Lass…

Mitsuhide : Did she forget that we can see her from here?? …OMG…

(Whisper) She said ‘ Just watch me then’

Poor Mitsunari and Evil MC lolololol

Chapter 22

Warnings: This is a smut filled chapter, so nsfw, indeed.

Author notes: First off, congratulations to Mitsuhide on his official English route release! I am looking forward to it, and comparing my translations.😂 I rewrote this chapter numerous times, especially with the smut scenes. I always say I’m moving forward from all the love filled scenes, and yet I’m drawn back in. So, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Sorry to keep y’all waiting for so long!😆

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine on my page under the Masterlist. NOTES: Thank you so much to the wonderful folks who came out and hung out with me as I wrote my first Ikesen piece since ‘American Dream’ in ages. I’d been batting around this idea at the lovely @a-shout-to-the-void and finally buckled down and did it. TW: torture, abuse mentions and descriptions, blood, painful injuries. A lot of descriptions and references to Ieyasu’s childhood with the Imagawa Don’t worry, no one dies. It also somehow has a good ending? Idk man. Also, hello to my first piece with Yoshimoto in it whatupppppp

—-

It was three months after the second disappearance of the Takeda, and the main hall was deathly quiet. All were assembled–Nobunaga lording on his dias, his allies gathered close–and no one spoke. 

Ieyasu wished someone would. 

“He wasn’t difficult to bring in at all,” Mitsuhide commented, as if it were the weather. Clouds from the shoreline–perhaps it will rain. 

(Funny, they could use some of that. The summer was stifling and showed no signs of abating, even as the seasons turned. The crops weren’t going as well as expected, and Azuchi was a cooker. They’d slitted the screens open, but even then, Ieyasu could see sweat beading on Hideyoshi’s forehead. Even Mitsuhide, usually pristine and inhuman, sported small pools of darkened silk in the underlayers that peeked through.)

Masamune almost smiled. “Do you really think he was stupid enough to come here on purpose? He’s got guts.”

Nobunaga’s perceptive red eyes flickered in Ieyasu’s direction. 

“Perhaps.” Mitsuhide allowed a smile. 

You can find all other works of mine here. NOTES: NSFW, 18+, I’m SO SerIOUS. Wow, this might be the single most hardcore and inappropriate piece I’ve ever written. Much love and thanks to @originalninjagoatee (it won’t let me tag you!) for this commission!

Hideyoshi’s manor was dangerously quiet. The last vestiges of sunlight spilled through the screen, all the varied paperwork stacked up in neat piles and tucked away onto the shelves. She could hear her heartbeat pounding out of her chest, running double-time against her ribs, barely held in by bone and sinew.

“Nervous, Kitten?” Masamune purred over her shoulder.

How could the world be so silent when Masamune Date ran a finger along her collar and Hideyoshi Toyotomi worked his hands over her thighs? She whimpered despite herself. Masamune chuckled; Hideyoshi’s eyes crinkled in that familiar smile. Devils, both of them.

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here or become a Patron of mine! NOTES: This was inspired by this lovely picture here… and the Discord chat. Y’all got me having to put my glasses on real early in the morning. ALSO, THIS IS HELLA NSFW. 18+

Professor Ishida was the only reason calculus was even remotely tolerable. Where the book was inscrutable and pedantic, he was soft and assured and kind, always taking the extra time to guide his students through the particulars of math and theory. Sometimes he got sidetracked from sheer excitement of numbers–but always he steered back onto course, sweet and patient as ever. 

It tracked that he was just as patient in other matters. 

This is Chapter 12 of I See Starlight and the Finale. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: SPOILERS FOR TO HONOR AND PROTECT. If you have not read it, please go back and do so before proceeding. WARNING: This doesn’t end well and it isn’t happy. I promise in the long term that it’ll pay off. You’ll want to read TMOT for the real resolution to it–but I have little doubt that you will not like me in this finale. I’m sorry. Please trust me with the narrative long con of this.

It was like all the joy went out of the world.

Mitsuhide managed better than Hideyoshi did. Where the other man wept openly in their bed, Mitsuhide almost didn’t feel anything. It was too surreal, too beyond the pale, too difficult to comprehend. He hadn’t even seen it. How could he believe something he hadn’t even seen? 

Gin stuffed down his emotions, too old to pretend this wasn’t happening. Saburo locked himself in his room. And Kaito–well, Kaito was young enough to still cling to foolish hope. 

This is Chapter 11 of I See Starlight. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: SPOILERS FOR TO HONOR AND PROTECT. If you have not read it, please go back and do so before proceeding. WARNING: There are multiple instances of extremely uncomfortable procedures. These aren’t graphic, but they can be extremely triggering to people who have wild discomfort with medical things… tldr someone gets stabbed in the neck with a tube a lot. Consensual, but still. 

They walled up the well and set a guard outside it at all times. That wasn’t enough. 

Whatever they’d disturbed was wide awake now. It wailed and screamed at night, the mournful echoes reverberating up the flagstones. Yukimura insisted he was well enough to take his shift guarding it, but Sasuke found him one terrible night bent double outside the shrieking entryway, too traumatized to move, and after that he wasn’t allowed to take a turn with it any longer. 

This is Chapter 10 of I See Starlight. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: SPOILERS FOR TO HONOR AND PROTECT. If you have not read it, please go back and do so before proceeding. Warning: This starts with some bad bad feels/major character *non traumatic* death. You’ve been warned. It’s also kind of inevitable for a fic that spans a certain amount of time. Also: blood, minor horror elements.

By the time their son was born, the Nine knew Shingen was on his way out of the world. His health never recovered after the Invasion. He’d been reduced to leaning on his pregnant fiancee, Rose, as much as his cane. Even when he kept the smile on his lips, they all saw how much pain he was in–so after Hideyoshi and Mitsuhide and she had their turn with him, they let Shingen and Rose settle into the bedroom with them and hold the baby.

“Look at him,” Shingen crooned, patting the boy’s nose with his fingertip. “A good man, I’m sure. Look at his eyes. That’s the gaze of a fighter. He’ll do great things.”

Scarcely an hour later, he was on his deathbed–and then, gone. 

This is Chapter 9 of I See Starlight. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTE: SPOILERS FOR TO HONOR AND PROTECT. If you have not read it, please go back and do so before proceeding. THIS IS GONNA GET WILDLY NSFW, FOLKS. If you are not into That Gay Shit (which tbh, why are you reading this if you aren’t?) then I’d recommend you just take a gloss over… or a hike, honestly. Mostly a hike. My queer ass doesn’t want to make space for that.

There wasn’t a conversation about it. He realized after a month straight of waking up in her bed, curled into Hideyoshi’s arms and wrapped around her, that they’d just moved in without asking. If she had an issue with it, she never said so. 

“Here.” A faint jingle. It was too early in the morning for him to really use his magical sight, so he allowed mystery until a cool key pressed into his hand. “For you, and for you.”

“What’s this?” Hideyoshi asked, confused. “Is this to the house?”