My main fandoms are Marvel, Doctor Who and a brazilian RPG called Ordem Paranormal. Crazy multishipper ❤❤ Love to draw and i write some fics! In other words, WELCOME!!
The pirate Captain, the Quartermaster, and that one hostage that turned out to be way too easy to get attached to.
The main trio from Heave Ho: sea rats and future kings. I’m gonna miss that story, now that all the chapters are finally posted. So here’s some more art. Suki with her unagi tattoo can be found here.
Tumblr sexyman tournament is coming, and an obscure character very dear to me is in it. Unfortunately, he will face a powerhouse in the first match... but I will not give up!
And that is why I did this presentation for you, Howl fans. Let's make an alliance against an evil triangle out there.
@sexy-people-contests-2026 some piece of propaganda.
For @rujinucafe's weekend flash prompts... Just an alternative terrible death scene concept. I promise, if I do one more for the flash prompt weekend, I'll make the next one fluffier and cute!! 😭😭😭
[Beware: shocking amount of fluff AND angst below the cut. The first picture is worth >1500 words.]
Rumi had mixed feelings about bathtime.
She didn't like that bathtime meant it was almost bedtime, which meant no more coloring, or playing with her little zoo of stuffed animals, or scampering around the vegetable garden with a stick in each hand, in search of "demon" bugs to whack away from the cabbages. No more adventures until tomorrow.
She liked that at bathtime, she got to play with her wind-up sea turtle that paddled itself around the tub with a plishplishplashplishplash for ten seconds before she had to twist its tail to wind it up again. She also got to play with her yellow rubber duck, which if she squeezed it above the tub then held it underwater, spat a stream of water from its bill when she squished it again. Sometimes the duck "decided" to be mischievous, and squirted water at Rumi's guardian as she washed her hair. Celine would always GASP in exaggerated shock and poke at Rumi's button nose and cheeks, scolding "Naughty duck, naughty duck!" in a singsongy voice that made Rumi squeal with delight.
Rumi really liked when Celine washed her hair. She liked the fresh, minty smell of the 2 in 1 shampoo/conditioner and how it felt soft and pillowy as Celine massaged it into her scalp. Her fingertips moved in spirals all over Rumi's head, so soothing that it always made her yawn (even though she was DEFINITELY not sleepy yet, thank you very much!). She didn't like getting the sudsy lather on her face, so Celine was careful to place a protective hand on her forehead, like the brim of a hat, shielding her from the cups of warm water she poured over her head to rinse out the shampoo.
Rumi hated when she finally had to stand up and leave the safety of the steamy bathwater, because the air always - always - felt freezing cold, like teeny-tiny needles pricking at her exposed skin. She instinctively crossed her arms and tensed up, as if she could shrink away from the chill.
Luckily, she never had to endure it for more than a few seconds before Celine rescued her. Her guardian wrapped warm hands around her back, lifting her from her armpits —"Up up up!" Rumi said, to which Celine replied, "Up she flies!"—and gently set her down on the bath mat. Before she could so much as shiver, the fluffiest towel they owned had been dropped over her head, covering her face.
She screeched at the sudden darkness. "Eeek! Ceee-Ceeee!"
"Where is little Rumi-ya?" Her guardian's voice sounded muffled as she used the towel's corners to wipe off Rumi's feet.
Rumi wiggled her toes to assist. "Can't find me!"
She felt Celine's hands on the outside of the towel, moving rapidly up and down her arms and back to dry her off quickly. "Is that her voice I hear?"
"Not me!" Rumi exclaimed. She tried again, this time disguising her voice by adopting an impossibly high, squeaky pitch. "I'm not Rumi, I'm a mousey!"
Her guardian laughed aloud, the sound so lively and buoyant Rumi couldn't stop herself from giggling too. "I don't know, Mousey, I'm pretty good at finding things," she said, feeling around Rumi's fabric-covered head. "Hmmm...those aren't mouse ears, those are little girl ears! Why does Mousey have little girl ears?"
"I don't knoooow!" she squeaked again.
"And where is your mouse tail?"
"I don't have a tail!"
"I think Rumi-ya is hiding under there with you, Mousey," Celine concluded. "You know, Rumi used to have a tail like a mouse, but it fell off right after she was born."
"WHAT?!" Rumi shifted the towel and stuck her face out. "That's not true! I never had a tail!"
"There's little Rumi-ya!" Her guardian laughed again at Rumi's indignant expression. "No, little girls don't have tails. Let's get you bundled up."
Her pout immediately changed into an eager grin and she hopped in place. "Bundled up!"
Celine nodded and began to wrap the towel more tightly around the little girl's body, almost as tight as when she'd swaddle her as an infant. Rumi loved this part, after bathtime, because she got to feel so cozy and warm and safe.
She also loved it because—
"Bundling the baby, the baby, the baby, bundling the baby so she doesn't get a cold!" Celine sang cheerfully as she scooped Rumi up and cradled her in her arms. "Wee oo, wee-ee, wee deedle-de dum dee-dee..."
Her guardian's voice was clear and steady and bright and warm and the sound transfigured into strands of living light and it wound around them before Rumi's eyes and it wrapped around her heart like a hug and she wanted to hug back with all the strength she had in her pint-sized body.
She chimed in when Celine repeated the tune. "Bundling the baby, the baby, the baby, bundling the baby so she doesn't get a cold!"
The strands of sound-light-song (CeCe called it the "ha-moon?" "hom-noon?") brightened and danced in mid-air and Rumi wasn't sure how but she felt that it was giggling and playing alongside her as she raised her bouncy child-voice.
They had sung all the way back to their bedroom when she looked up at Celine. She was doing something strange with her face while she sang: blinking a lot, looking around like her eyes couldn't decide where to land, not-quite-smiling. But when she looked down and saw Rumi studying her, she smiled again. "Pajama time," she said, setting Rumi down. The song-light threads began to fade from the air.
Rumi successfully put her pajamas on...almost all by herself. That made her remember something.
"CeCe?"
"Yes, Rumi?" She glanced up from fastening the buttons of the girl's nightshirt.
"I'm not a baby," she said.
Her guardian finished with the buttons. The corners of her mouth quirked up a little as she looked up. "Oh? What do you mean?"
"'Cause I'm three now," she said gravely. "I'm not a baby - I'm a kid."
"You are three. Three whole years..." Something odd was happening with her face again. She cleared her throat and smiled. "Three years of little Rumi-ya, not so little anymore."
Rumi nodded, pleased to be understood.
"We don't have to stop singing the song now that you're three. You can still be somebody's baby, even if you're not a little baby." She patted Rumi's tiny mattress, and the girl clambered up. "And I certainly don't want you catching a cold."
"Oh-kaaay," Rumi said, sighing contentedly as she pulled the blankets up to her chin, a stuffed bear clutched under her arm. Celine tucked her in, then sat cross-legged on the floor next to her as she always did at bedtime.
"Am I your baby?" She yawned through the question.
When Rumi opened her eyes, her guardian was making a weird face again. Frowning...but not? Her jaw clenched, her eyes grew wide. Her mouth twitched, opening and closing slightly.
"Well...You're my..." Celine pursed her lips and bowed her head towards the floor. She inhaled deeply. She exhaled slowly. Absently, she twisted a ring on her right hand.
She sounds like that when she gets hurt sometimes. Rumi didn't understand what was wrong. Doesn't she know? If I'm not CeCe's baby, then whose? She looked down at her bear, squeezing it tight to her body as her lip started to quiver.
Do I not belong to anyone?
"Rumi?"
She glanced back up at Celine, sniffling. This time, her guardian wore an expression Rumi knew well: worry. But when Rumi met her eyes - much shinier than normal - the worry lessened, and a sad smile forced its way onto her face. Can a smile be sad?
Why did it make her feel like crying?
"Do I..." Her lip wobbled pitifully. "Am I not anybody's baby?"
Celine's eyes widened. "Oh, no, Rumi-ya, that's not—" She folded back the covers and pulled the little girl into her arms just as she started to cry. "Shh, I've got you..."
"Why—" She hiccupped. "W-why can't I b-be your baby?"
"I'm sorry, Rumi, that's not what I meant," her guardian said. "It's just...complicated."
"But why?"
She felt Celine kiss the crown of her head. "I'm sorry, Rumi," she repeated. "Most kids...they're their mom and dad's babies. You were your mother's baby at first, when you were born."
"Your friend?" Rumi pressed her cheek to Celine's chest. Her shirt was damp with tears. "You said she isn't here anymore."
"Yes, your mother, the person who made you. She...she died, which is why she isn't here anymore to look after you."
"I'm not her baby," Rumi said, still not sure she understood.
"No, you are, it's just—"
"But she's n-not—" she hiccupped again, "she's not here!"
"She loved you so much, Rumi. She wanted to take care of you, and it was very..." Celine took a deep, shuddering breath. "It was very sad that she couldn't. But she knew you needed someone, so she asked me to care for you."
Rumi whimpered.
"Rumi-ya, please look at me."
She whimpered again, but sat up to look at her guardian.
"There's my Rumi-ya," she said softly, tracing her thumb along the girl's cheek. It was nice. Soothing.
"Rumi, you are—" her voice was scratchy, and she cleared her throat. She pressed her forehead to Rumi's, so close that Rumi could see the faint scar under her eye.
Why is she crying? Is she sad, too?
"Rumi-ya," she tried again, but her voice broke on the last syllable. She swallowed. "Rumi-ya, you are my baby."
Oh. Rumi hiccupped. "I am?"
She nodded. "Yes, Rumi-ya. You didn't start out as my baby, but you are my baby now." She wiped a stray tear away from Rumi's cheek. "You are my baby. I love you and I will always take care of you. Always."
Celine's eyes glistened, as dark and deep and certain as the night sky that guarded their sleep, and Rumi felt safe again.
Always.
"Oh," Rumi said, voice trembling. "Okay." She hugged her guardian around the neck. "I'm your baby."
"You are," she whispered back, squeezing Rumi around the middle.
I'm your baby.
"CeCe?"
"Hmm?"
"Can I sleep in your bed tonight?"
She chuckled. "Of course, sweet girl." There was no need to ask - Rumi ended up snuggled against her guardian's side most nights. She picked the girl up, turning around to set her on the grown-up-sized bed only a few feet away. Celine retrieved the stuffed bear as Rumi started to burrow under the covers.
"What lullaby would you like me to sing tonight?" she asked, handing Rumi the bear.
Rumi squeezed it gratefully. "Can you sing 'hunters?'"
"Yes, I can." She finished lighting the little candle she kept on the bedside table, switched off the lamp, then sat down next to Rumi on the bed. She took a shaky breath.
"We are hunters, voices strong..."
The song-light threads pulsed into being again, and Celine's voice wrapped around Rumi's heart like a hug.
Okay, might be stepping outside of my lane here, but while I do get that it's a joke, something not be taken seriously, and just comes vibes and energy and all that, there's a recurring characterization of Mira that's...getting a little concerning, so Imma just say this.
Guys, Mira doesn't hate men. Like, at all.
Again, I get it, she does have whole "How dare a man speak to me" aura to her, but in the actual movie, she's honestly most welcoming and supportive of Huntr/x's male fans.
Plus she has zero issues with Bobby (and who would?), and even though she pegged Dr. Han as a quack and didn't appreciate him trying getting into her personal space, she did appreciate his reads on Rumi.
So no, she doesn't hate men as a unified whole. No inherent issues with men at all.
The deuteranomaly and protanomaly ones are very similar but they are different. The purple section ranges out a little farther to the right in the protanomaly one. Not seeing the difference between might not indicate color blindness but rather difficulty with color differentiation.
dededos
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
titsay
origamiaround
