#wriggling merchant

[that-worm-rpgverse]

meatworm thinks rattles is SO COOL

HE WILL EAT HIM /affectionate /threat

☠️ Oh dear, I do not taste very good! I'm all skin and bones, you know

#rattles #wriggling merchant #therealgeeber

[rainswept]

I'M HERE. lyney.

warnings // 1.3k words. major backstory spoilers. in depth/poetically described gore, dead/rotting animal mention, overall content may be disturbing to some readers - proceed with caution. injury, main character death, angst. childhood friends trope !! ambiguous relationship (could be viewed as platonic or romantic, but pining/unsaid feelings are implied).

"now i'm here," lyney chirped, jumping out from behind a wooden crate along the sides of the wet street, before bounding back again and leaving only his voice as an indication he was there at all, "now i'm not!"

lynette looked on, unimpressed, while you clapped. of course, it was only a silly game; but you were more than willing to indulge him.

the air smelled of rain and sodden wood, and you could feel the cool moisture upon your skin. puddles and wooden planks knocked off of crates littered the streets, the post-rain painting the sky a gloomy gray. tall buildings formed of metal sheets outstretched, cradling the city paths the three of you walked. desolate as it was, it felt like home.

the steps of six boots into fresh puddles echoed alongside an otherwise quiet world. the rain had just settled, so off you went, in search of the next crowd of people for lyney and lynette to perform for. there was never any particular place the three of you stuck to; there couldn't be. so, with time, you began to see them as your home instead.

the worry of what was next to settle in your truthless maw dispersed when you were with them. in their company, neither worry nor hunger gnawed at your stomach. the taste of food was simply not as comforting when eating alone. no .. you could be in a sea of people. so, not just being alone; without them.

☽  . * ☾

"i'm here!" lyney called, turning the corner into the small alley in which you three often resided.

you and lynette glanced up, immediately filled with vigor at the sound of his voice. while lynette stayed seated, huddled in a cardboard box beside you, you wriggled your way out of her grasp and jumped up to meet lyney half-way. as he dipped his head and took off his hat with a quick bow, spare coins came tumbling into your outstretched hands. you thanked him, turning to lynette, and he waited until you two counted what you needed before he took his own spoils.

it wasn't long until you were on the move again. the three of you huddled close as you slipped through the crowd of the night market, hands held tight in a chain as to not lose each other. you stepped up to a merchant together, dirty coins scrounged together just enough to be worth something in your outstretched palms.

you ate comfortably that night, huddled next to lyney and lynette in a small alley you had decided to make home temporarily. lynette was on the left, her tail wrapped around you and lyney; he was on the right, one arm tucked between you as he ate his meal with the other. you were right in the middle, head resting on lyney's shoulder. you could hear his heartbeat, dull and faint from how far away, but there nonetheless.

you drifted off to sleep comfortably, warm between their bodies as you sheltered each other from the cold night air.

☽  . * ☾

"i'm here," you whispered, holding lyney tight. your arms wrapped around his shaking frame as he cried, burying his face in the crook of your neck as to not allow you to bear witness to his tears. "it's okay. let it out."

"i'm here," lyney said softly, tracing circles over your knuckles with his thumb as you stared, mortified, the first time you saw a rotting animal — mauled so badly the species was unrecognizable — slumped up against the wall of a building. flies buzzed in your ears, and lyney murmured soft reassurances to muffle the sounds even as the sight filled his own body with dread. "it's okay. walk with me, now. keep your eyes closed. i'll guide you."

"i'm here," you said, words only meant for lyney's ears, stepping in front of him protectively as you steeled yourself for a brawl over food scarcity. you were always the better fighter. "i won't let them hurt you."

"i'm here," lyney called, entering the small space you were currently residing in, throwing you the bigger piece of bread between the two pieces he had retrieved. "this one's for you."

"i'm here," you said, the first time he performed alone, because lynette was sick. "you did great."

"i'm here," lyney said, barely above a whisper as to not wake you, hand resting on the back of your head as you curl into him for warmth in your sleep. "i hope you're comfortable."

"i'm here," you yelled, gasping for breath, as you rushed to lyney's aid — all because he tripped and scraped a knee. "are you okay?"

"i'm here." "i'm here." "i'm here." "i'm here."

you were always there, and he was too.

you hadn't eaten, yet you still felt like you'd throw up pure acid; as if the impact of your heart plummeting into your stomach would actually cause some to splash up.

the sight was as awful as that day. you wanted to see blood flow beneath his skin, in his veins, and watch it turn his face hot when you looked at him. you didn't want to see it outside of him. it was spilling out his body much too quickly, unlike the words you wished you could've said sooner.

deep crimson laid out for the world to see, blood pouring out like heartfelt words; up-tilted smiles, and choked out apologies. the dirty street beneath lyney's limp body was beginning to turn the same color as his open wounds, blood following the imperfect curves of the rubble-littered concrete. the blood glinted in the light like a precious ruby, marred skin splayed open to reveal flesh pure and untainted.

the stream, yet to coagulate, picked up pieces of dirt and tiny dislodged rocks as it followed its path. it reminded you of how lyney found you. you were the debris, and he the blood, outstretched grasp picking you up and carrying you to all the places you wished to go — with him all the while. without him, you would be immoble .. useless.

.. but the blood did not have a care in the world; it did not have any thought as it meandered its way across the ground. it only sought the path already cut for it, where ever that may lead.

.. it .. did not have a mind of its own. blood .. it is born to sustain one person, to keep them alive. it only served one purpose; carry life to and from their heart. now, without a body to keep alive .. it had no use in the world.

.. that was quite the fitting metaphor for you, now.

you cradle him gently, letting him lean on you as he breathes. it's weak, it's fragile, and it's strained. your arms wrap around his body and his hands grasp feebly at your clothes, trying to hold you close the best he can.

stay with me, you want to say. stay with me.

but you know better than to have hope now. you've seen enough death that you can predict when it's coming.

.. is he even still conscious?

yet, regardless of your rationale, he seems to read your mind.

"i'm here," lyney murmurs, voice soft and eyes fluttering between open and shut. the last of the day's sun glints in his glassy irises, pupils shrinking and dilating as he tries his best to focus on you despite his blurred vision. he smiles softly, looking up at you with only his eyes. it would hurt too much to move anything else.

.. but, soon the pain ceases. in his final moments, he manages to glance at you once more, without the binds of wound left to mar his final memory.

you brush the stray hairs away from his face. "i know. i know."

slowly, the sun goes down. his eyes have long since stopped moving, and his final breath had drifted past your face and into the winds hours ago. yet, you're still here, his now-cold blood painting the entire front of you a glassy red, holding onto him as if trying to keep his lifeless body warm still.

now he's here. now he's not.

#✰ RAINSWEPT #✰ RAINSWEPT LYNEY #lyney #lyney x reader #lyney genshin #lyney genshin impact #lyney x you #genshin impact lyney #lyney gi #genshin lyney #gi lyney #lyney x y/n #lyney x gender neutral reader

[kurim-chis]

“The one who buried the beloved, was also you.”

—— blade/yingxing x reader (VERY lightly implied dan feng x you)

BACKGROUND: You're a short-lived species who arrived to the xianzhou alongside Yingxing in the merchant ships (perhaps childhood sweethearts??), you've been in a relationship for a few years now and while Yingxing is gruff and rough around the edges, he's nevertheless besotted with you and fiercely in love with you; a happy ending to this story seems likely —— until you get struck with the mara-disease.

AKA this is half-assed narrative and half-assed word vomit, I just want to add more pain and suffering to Blade's past while being self-indulgent trash :D

.

.

yingxing has seen the mara disease so many times before, during the war and within the ships with their citizens, especially once their times passed the five hundred mark and madness slowly creeps in. their faces had mostly been obscured by golden flowers and twisting branches the first time he saw the corpses, but throughout the years he's seen many variations of them.

faces contorted in agony, twisted in fear and despair, or slack and numb as roots wriggled out of their skin and flowers bloomed over their eyes, and most often they would be driven into mara-struck madess and insane bloodlust in their rampages.

yingxing never expects the mara to fall upon you.

if yingxing tries to look back on it, perhaps it had started way more earlier than they'd known — perhaps it was the itching, the little scratches healing faster than they should, the headaches and the daydreaming. it doesn't quite strike either of you until one day you are screaming as golden lines split your skin, as little branches claw their way out of your arms, and small buds blossom from the wounds on your flesh. it's sudden and unexpected and terrifying and you are hunched over yourself trembling and shivering and sweating as he tries to hold you, a hand hovering over the tiny blossoms that grows out of your neck and collarbone, the tiny roots wriggling out of your arms, and it gets progressively worse from thereon.

this can't be happening, you say

i'm scared, you say

please believe me, you say

(because you're a short-lived species, and the only way you could've been struck with mara like this is for you to receive the plague author's blessing)

yingxing believes you (yingxing loves you)

you are frightened and terrified and yingxing can only hold you through the tears and terror and confusion and pleasedon'thatemeyingxing

perhaps, if it had been just the blessings of the abundance, it would've been fine. there are countless individuals within the ship who use the power of the abundance in medicine and aid, after all. but roots continue to wiggle and settle over your skin like bangles and chains, golden flowers begin sprouting from the buds in your flesh, and even your eyes and hair starts losing their colors.

you try to snip the blossoms and the locks of hair and the branches, and the wounds only heal over and over and over again, each time faster than before, the blooms brighter and livelier than the last, and the tips of your hair take on the color of dry blood and your eye color melt into the gold of the mara disease.

you are in pain, you are in agony and miserable, and eventually, even your memories and sense of self start deteriorating amidst a haze of golden petals and blood.

you start asking if it would be better to die "while you still can" (you are afraid of becoming like the mara-struck soldiers in the game), but yingxing doesn't allow you to.

this cannot be happening, yingxing thinks.

it breaks yingxing to watch you like this, but no one else can know. xianzhou will see you dead for suspicions of worshipping the plague author. he can only hold you during the nights and soothe your fits until you settle like a docile beast in his arms, and then during the day, he researches

yingxing puts aside the forgery for as long as he possibly can without arousing suspicions and throws himself into mara research discreetly, but there's not much he can find. access to advanced texts are restricted and he only learns about as much as anyone interested in the mara disease knows, but one thing is for sure —— there's no documented recovery from the mara in the centuries of the xianzhou history.

become mara-struck, and you either die in a flurry of golden flowers or are striked down by the cloud knights.

(there's another thing yingxing eventually finds out, as well —— this is no accident. someone caused this to you)

(yingxing will hunt them down to the farthest reach of the stars, and he will not stop until they are dead. whoever did this will wish they hadn't been born.)

if yingxing cannot find anything about how to recover from the mara, perhaps then he could find a way to control the disease, prevent it from hurting you as it was doing now, prevent it from turning you into a mad creature. it wasn't too late yet, and yingxing refuses to give up on you.

yingxing turns to imbibitor lunae and the scalegorge waterscape — the sacred abode of the vidyadhara, a race devoted to the sealing and guard of the ambrosial arbor, and that becomes one amongst the many mistakes he will have commited.

in the future, the man - yingxing - who will become known as blade will look back on this moment and laugh — madly, loudly, hatefully, as he lives on cursing his life and that of two other sinners.

you are dead, and yingxing could not save you

you are dead, and blade wants to die

.

.

.

BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO CONTINUE NARRATING:

There are a LOT of layers to what I want to be happening in the premise of this short. For example, I wanted to write that the ones responsible for "you", as a short-lived species, going mara-struck was a result of sabotaging and conflict with Sanctus Medicus (or whatever antagonist there is during the events of Dan Feng and Yingxing's crimes), who wanted to sow strife amidst the Xianzhou. There's a lot of plot going on that my little brain can't be bothered to rationalize.

During his research on mara and trying to find out HOW you turned mara, he begins suspecting of foul play and unearths quite a bit of shit within the Xianzhou. There's a lot of sketchy shit, some not related at all to what he wants to know, and it paints numerous targets of Yingxing.

Their main targets would actually be Jing Liu (who some time later on succumbs to mara and goes on a murderous rampage) and many other higher ups and important figures to different areas of the Xianzhou. In trying to discreetly trigger or infect mara to others, they also partook in indiscriminate damage in hopes one of their targets will be caught unawares and be infected with something that can trigger or coax out the mara disease, and "you" were caught in the crossfire and ended up mara struck (or perhaps you were intentionally targeted as well, can't decide on this) as a short-lived species collateral. Many of the other short-lived species die during this period of time.

By some twist of fate or whatever, your descent into mara isn't instantaneous and is instead painful, slow and with a clear consciense of the changes in your body, but it's only slowed, and your body can't adjust to mara like how Blade and Jing Liu will in the future.

Ying Xing, however, clings to the hope you can mantain your clarity and sense of self, and what he wanted to do in this short is research the vidyadhara's records to see if he could seal away your mara or contain your disease. When that wasn't enough, he will perhaps 1) try to find some other way, 2) try to see if Dan Feng can find a way to contain your mara disease, or at least delay it until something can be done because this wasn't your fault.

Instead, what happens is that Dan Feng kills you.

Dan Feng sees you and you are half consumed with flowers even though you aren't being violent or crazed, you've tanked the attacks of many other cloud knights and mara-struck alike and are covered in blood and tatters while everyone's dead. Your sins are set in stone (are they really?) and your ending is only a matter of time, so Imbibitor Lunae - although pained - decides to put you down and lay you to rest. He tries to kill you - and either fails or obliterates your sense of self so all that remains is a corpse that keeps healing - and then seals/buries your regenerating body into the Scalegorge Waterscape.

Dan Feng's actions are an act of compassion, love and mercy in his eyes. He buries you in Scalegorge Waterscape, where your rest will be undisturbed and none shall desecreate your body, not even the Xianzhou will be able to part the seas of Scalegorge.

But that and what Yingxing sees are different. (they also think differently lmao)

After Yingxing reaches Scalegorge amidst all the chaos that would be happening, he would only know you were hurt very, very badly. Blood, flowers, tattered clothes. Lots of fighting, arguing, etc.

Ending is that - as mentioned - despite his efforts otherwise, Yingxing sees your body cast into the abyss of the Scalegorge Waterscape and sealed there, left to rot in the darkness and cold of an artificial sea.

Afterwards, he himself becomes mara-struck and then is sent of to be killed over and over again by Jing Liu lmao. He wants to die, but he cannot.

At some point in time, he almost forgets that his name is Yingxing and he had loved someone who died unjustly amidst internal conflict and everything, but it comes back to him when he escapes and becomes Blade.

EVERYTHING here is just self-indulgent brainstorming. NGL it could've been better.

#honkai star rail #hsr blade #started this fired up about making blade suffer and then forgot how to do it #gg i really enjoy writing stuff where yingxing and you or OC were in a relationship #perfectly happy and content #and then WHOOOSH #DESPAIR AND ANGUISH AND DEATH #blade x reader #hsr x reader #i lost my shit halfway through writing this and just forgot how to write #what is writing?? what am I doing?? #kurim writes hsr

[dairy-farmer]

You know? Seeing all these Breeder Asks makes me want to give it a go >.>

You know what seems to be the Universe's version of the Oak tree? As in a Being both willing and able to breed with fuckin EVERYTHING? Humans. Know what's really REALLY Heroic? Saving a species from Extinction.

Too some? Lois Lane is legitimately a greater hero then her husband. She's the mother of the next generation of Kryptonians, a race that otherwise would have died with Clark.

It's? A big universe. Doesn't have to be an entire Race. The extinction of X planet. Y people. Last of their kind. How utterly hopeless they would feel. Unable to bring their people BACK. And THEN? This MIRACLE of a Race? Compatible dispite being from galaxies away?

You could SAVE YOUR PEOPLE.

They're your HERO.

One(1) space adventure gone funky. Suddenly young justice is... uuuuuuuh.... Space? In Space, definitely. Yep. Lots of stars. Very lost.

Fuck.

They're looking for a Lantern. Someone who could direct them home. Find The Last Scion of (unpronounceable)! Under heavy fire by the people who wiped his people out. The save him! Do a Heroics! Wooo!

Dock on his much bigger, but strangely empty ship. Tragic backstory: unlocked. Is Space Superman. He totally can help them find a Lantern though. Neat.

Everyone but Robin heads to bed. S.S. is tragically hot and has Cool Technology. They get talking. He eventually mentions, tragically, how he will never see his babies brooded. They just need to be incubated, huh? Couple weeks? Then get pushed out?

....you got a Machine to finish hatching um?

............hypothetically, HOW many are we talking here?

Because Robin? A hero. This guy is alone. Last of his kind. And... TECHNICALLY... Robin... COULD fix that. In the time frame they're talking. Technically. But he wants specifics.

And S.S.? Drops his god damned control pad in shock and heart breaking awe. Choked up hope at the impossible, dangled right in front of him. R-really? In a soft teary whisper. Fallen to his knees like Robin has offered him salvation in his despair, the terrible darkness of his life.

Well shit. Yeah, really. Now Robin DEFINITELY has to do it. He can handle it, probably. And it means EVERYTHING to this guy. Let's ball.

So before his teammates can, rightfully, talk him out of what's probably a stupid idea. He follows S.S. back to his quarters. Pulls his pants off. And loses his virginity to the most worshipful tentacle fucking known to man. Gets beads stuffed into him until he feels like he'll burst. Deep where they can't fall out, heavy and growing in his gut.

Pregnant.

It's... it's AMAZING. The new sensations. The way S.S. hovers and flutters around him like he's the most precious thing that's ever lived. Being treated like someone precious. The center of his world as his gut swells. Feeling everything shift and press. And when they come OUT?

Thick orbs, one after another. Feeling like they won't END. Grinding against everything good and popping out of his poor abused hole. He cums and cums. Feels so EMPTY once it's done.

Of course, his teammates are LIVID at S.S.. Won't let him NEAR Tim once the brood is out. Bundle him off to the Lantern and tattle. Meaning Tim has to sit in a Lantern health office before they can go home. But...

Tim learned something about himself.

Makes a note if it.

And eventually? Whoop! Weeee're in space again! Damn it. At least this merchant vessel is headed in the right direction, huh guys? Everyone makes new friends!

Tim meets another Last of Their Kind. Their babies are tiny masses of shape-shifting tentacles. Tim says Bet. Learns a lot about their culture, flat on his back, as the babies are Fed inside him via fucking. Births a healthy brood so hard he passes out from the pleasure. Last one has to wriggle its way free on their own.

Kon is gonna tear his hair out. Space is trying to Lewd his team mate. This is two for two! No space for Timmy!

Next time they get yeeted by Heroic Shenanigans into space? Him and Bart basicly handcuff themselves to Tim's side. No babies this time!

There are babies.

A birdman puts an egg in him. Tim feels like a Kiwi. Can't stop rubbing his swollen belly. Kon tries to rip the wings off said bird man and make him EAT THEM. Bart is busy stretching Tim so nothing tears when it's time to push. It feels like being fisted.

The Birdmans father takes responsibility for his grandchild AND child's seduction of Tim. Flys them back to earth on the condition Kon stop trying to kill his idiot son.

Young Justice holds an intervention. Tim you have a problem.

Tim does NOT. Tim has a KINK thank you very much!

THATS NOT BETTER. They argue.

No one believes them, when they try to warn others. The PRUDISH Bat child? Who are you trying to fool they scoff, time and again. Then others end up in Space with Tim. And when they come BACK?

They very much Believe Them Now(tm).

Tim is traumatizing the Heroic community and Saving dying Races Left And Right. Is a SAINT and CELEBRITY. There are Space Newsletters and lovingly penned reviews. 10/10 would fuck again. Fantastic surrogate and would Mate Up in an instant, if their teammates didn't try to kill me.

NONE of the other Bats are aware of this. No one wants to be the one to tell them.

Eventually, someone IS going to be saved by Superman in space, hear his story, go "oh that's so sad! But don't worry! We TOTALLY know how you can fix that! See there's this AMAZING guy on the planet Earth called-"

And it's going to be DELIGHTFUL~~☆

-🐼🐼🐼

😭😭😭😭😭 i'm dying at superman being in space, saving someone, spilling out his woes because bruce has put a cap on the amount of times he can bring up being the last of his kind a week, and getting told there's someone on earth that can birth the revival of his race and learns its TIM!!!

also the thought of tim's team almost pulling their hair out over the fact that their teammate keeps getting knocked up with alien babies! and they try their best to be vigilant but they can't be on every space mission. so they corner tim's team that he's being sent out with and they warn them "do NOT let him get pregnant out there again he keeps doing that shit thinking it'll be alright and won't STOP". and all other capes know about the strightlaced robin, the 'lets get down to business' robin and they don't really believe tim's friends. they think they're just exaggerating. but then tim is humming and round with some last of their kind alien following them around like a puppy because robin is pregnant, he's pregnant and how the FUCK are they going to explain to batman how badly they fucked up?

but it's fine. robin gives birth and they try to cope with their near heart attacks and they decide not to say shit about it because it worked out! until it doesn't because it keeps happening and they don't know how to stop it this kid keeps fucking and getting knocked up and giving birth to tentacle monsters and little eldritch horrors.

giving birth is like his default diplomatic strategy and they HATE that it works so well.

when clark comes back he's so awkward around tim because all he thinks about is the endless amount of stories he's been told about how he's a perfect little incubator and surrogate and how he heals well and gives birth to healthy broods.

#answered asks #asks #anonymous

[inkformyblood]

stay the night (and the morning after) CWFKB #5

Morning Breath Kiss fill for @codywanfirstkissbingo Canon Era, Morning after but mild.

There is no slow awakening for Cody; only a sudden and immediate wakefulness that descends on him, seemingly out of nowhere. He stares up at the blank bunk above him, tracing the sharp lines of rapid assembly that no amount of filler or sanding seemed to be able to hide, and feels the rumble of the ship’s engines somewhere in the soles of his feet and a patch just beneath his ribs. This is a better mattress than he’s used to, the engines generally shake enough to rattle his teeth loose this early in the morning and he had become accustomed to simply rolling over and ignoring them. Next to him, someone shifts, a warm hand splayed over the bare expanse of Cody’s belly, a puff of warm air impacting his shoulder before they settle once more.

Without moving, Cody drags his gaze sideways, straining against the confines of his peripheral vision as he makes out a mess of red hair — his heart picking up in tempo, a rush that near enough sends his head spinning in protest — and a sweep of dark lashes that cast shadows over Obi-Wan’s cheeks even in the dim light. Okay. So, that wasn’t entirely a dream. 

The headache should have clued him in sooner, an oversight he wouldn’t be making again in a hurry regardless of how much the Engineering Department swore up and down that they’d worked out all of the kinks in their most recent attempt at a still. It had been an impressive feat of mechanics and sheer audacity, all gleaming chrome pipes stolen from a passing merchant ship that had been mostly gold plate and wouldn’t miss them and a better maintained cleaning cycle than the rest of the ship that kept them that way. Cody prods his lower lip with his tongue, trying to remember anything past the second drink that had tasted vaguely sweet and had a kick like a bantha to go with it. 

There’d been a proposition, eagerly given and accepted, that much he’s sure of, but he couldn’t remember if he had asked or if Obi-Wan had. The little details slip through his fingers, additional ammo for the pounding headache brewing just behind his eyes. His mouth tastes stale and it’s that that drives him up from the bed, wriggling out from Obi-Wan’s hold and staggering into the fresher. Obi-Wan’s quarters are distinctly nicer than his own, a benefit Cody is going to luxuriate in for as long as it takes for the Jedi to wake up and the subsequent awkward conversation. Cody borrows Obi-Wan’s toothbrush, spitting into the sink and keeping one hand on the faucet as he brushes. In the mirror, his eyes are bloodshot, his pupils blown wide and dark, and, rises onto his toes, tipping his head to one side, there’s a bite on his neck, sore only now that he’s noticed it. It throbs in dull counterpoint to his headache, and Cody leans forwards, dragging his lip to one side, the toothbrush held between his teeth.

He can’t remember kissing Obi-Wan. 

He’ll have to rectify that before he leaves. Cody scrubs a hand over his curls and spits once more into the sink, rinsing and dropping the brush back into the small holder. It’s still early, early enough that he could climb back into bed and try and grab a couple more hours of sleep before the inevitable happens. 

Obi-Wan had rolled over while Cody had been in the fresher, the blanket tangled around his thighs, a section pulled up against his chest. As Cody steps closer, Obi-Wan shifts, reaching his free arm over his head to tap against the pillow, indenting the surface. Cody pauses, chewing on his lip, before he continues, crawling back into bed behind Obi-Wan. He presses his head against the pillow and Obi-Wan’s fingers brush against his nose once, twice. Another sigh floods through him, the muscles in his thighs pressed against the side of Cody’s leg flexing and then relaxing completely. “Where did you go?”

Oh. Oh? Cody blinks up at the underside of the bunk. “Fresher,” he answers, keeping his voice low. It’s still early after all, there’s no reason to disrupt everything and throw out this moment of peace for the sake of a conversation woven with a confession. It can wait. “Go back to sleep.”

“Are you going to stay?” Obi-Wan wriggles around so he’s facing Cody, the blanket a lost cause around his legs. He grunts, reaching down to tug at the fabric but abandons the task after a moment, pressing himself closer to Cody’s side. He rests his head on Cody’s chest, his breathing deep and slow. 

“If you’d like me to.”

Obi-Wan nods, pressing himself impossibly closer. He drapes his arm across Cody’s chest, dragging his fingertips over the curve of his collarbone, back and forth, back and forth. It tickles, the touch delicate enough to barely register and Cody twitches his way through a laugh, forcing his breathing to even back out. They are both quiet and every blink grows longer, sleep descending over Cody as quickly as waking had. Obi-Wan shifts next to him, bracing his hand against the pillow beneath Cody’s head to push himself up.

“Can I kiss you?”

Cody opens his eyes. Obi-Wan smiles gently up at him, his eyes still half-lidded in the gloom. “It’s fine if you say no. I think I still smell like last night and—”

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Obi-Wan blinks, rising up slightly on his hand. The curve of his shoulder reminds Cody of a hunter, something prowling through the undergrowth and utterly focused on its target, even as he prods his lower lip with his tongue. Something utterly starving. 

“Yes.”

Obi-Wan surges forward and Cody catches him, kissing him with equal intensity and it isn’t perfect, their teeth knocking together, the leftover taste of sour alcohol mixing with the sharp toothpaste, but it’s right. 

Blue crosses for posted, orange dots for completed fills. I'm currently posting in written order but feel free to send me a message/request in the tags for a specific fill to be posted sooner <3

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #codywan #cwfkb2023 #cwfkb #codywan first kiss bingo 2023 #codywan first kiss bingo #my writing #cody x obi-wan

[breannasfluff]

Nook Cuddles

Wild tries to contain his chirp. He’s far too old to be making it, but Legend and Hyrule are gone. Legend to the castle to meet with his princess, and Hyrule with him. 

Normally, Wild would have joined them, but he was on potion-making duty. The rest of the Chain are scattered; Four and Warriors to the blacksmiths; the rest to Kakariko. 

Flock, miss you, he chirps. Want want want. They’ll be back later. There’s no reason to worry. The boys will be safe in the air. 

Miss you, he whistles in a descending tune to the silent air. He’s done with potions and there’s little else to do, so he wanders inside. 

The house is cozy; a more even mix of blues and reds among neutrals. True to his word, Ravio painted the blue walls and the whole house glows a warm cream. The sitting room is still a crazy mash of blue and white from their paint fight. 

Wild wanders through the empty house, running his hands over tables and chairs. A blanket makes it into his hands, followed by a soft pillow. A throw from a spare room and, hey, there’s a decorative pillow that looks nice. 

Before he realizes it, Wild is dumping his blankets and pillows in a corner, arranging them carefully. Then he steps back to observe. 

It’s a sad excuse for a nest. A few blankets and pillows aren’t enough. Even worse, there are no items from Legend and Hyrule in it. 

Still, Wild crawls on top of the blanket and pulls another over his legs. He curls in, fluffing his wings to shut out the rest of the room, and chirps. Miss you, miss you, don’t leave. At least there’s no one to hear the forlorn cries. 

Flock? Come, need you, miss you! The silence of the house is deafening. It’s too similar to the days spent alone trying to save Hyrule. Before he made friends to help him preen. Before the yiga ruined his trust in others hands on his wings. Before, before, before—!

A whistle breaks through his misery; a wobbly version of his sub-flock call. It’s not Hyrule or Legend, and none of the other avians would copy the call. 

“Wild?” It’s Ravio. He must be back from his errand. Okay? Worried, worry, want to help!

The champion sniffles into his arm. “Sorry, Ravio. I can give you the blankets back.” Despite the words, he hunkers down into his makeshift nest a little more. 

“What’s wrong?”

Want flock, where, lonely— Wild cuts off the automatic stream of sound, teeth clicking. 

The merchant is silent, then shuffles a little closer. Come, flock, help? Want to help! Flockmate, nest?

Wild shifts a wing slightly to peak out. The satin bowerbird is crouched next to his pathetic nest, wings tucked against his back.

He holds out a hand. “Nest?”

Wild shakes his head. “Don’t want you and Ledge’s nest,” he mumbles into his feathers. “No Hyrule.”

“Not that Nest. Come on.” When Wild still doesn’t move, he follows it up with a call. Chick chick, comfort, nestmate. 

Wild is up and moving before his logical mind catches up to his instincts. Ravio grabs his hand and tugs him through the house to a hall door. Then they ascend up a flight of stairs. The nook is small, but there’s a wide window letting in sunlight. Most of the space is cut off by a wall; likely the other upstairs rooms. 

Whistling curiously, Wild looks around. The small space is filled, not just with sunlight, but with a plethora of blankets, pillows, and other soft items. The floor is no longer visible in most places and there’s no pattern to anything. 

It’s perfect. 

He jerks forward before stopping and turning to Ravio. This isn’t his nesting material. 

The merchant just smiles and waves. “Go for it. Mind if I help?”

Wild chirps and throws himself into the pile. Quickly, most of the items are stashed near the sunny window and he hops into the middle, wriggling and nudging with his wings to form a nice cavity to nest in. 

Ravio tosses blankets and pillows around the edges, fussing with a few in particular till they reach his liking. Then he climbs into the hollow Wild formed. 

“It’s a nice nest.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Wild manages, the tips of his ears red. Despite the embarrassment of missing his flock—it’s only been a few hours!—Ravio is an honorary part of the flock through Legend. It settles his instincts to have someone he considers familiar to nest with. 

Ravio gives another approximation of the sub-flock call, which Wild repeats back to him. Then he does it again, slower, so the bowerbird can hear the nuances. The answer isn’t perfect; he adds a lilting trill at the end, but it fits their situation. 

Here, chick, safe, cuddle-nest? Ravio chirps. 

Wild chirps back and burrows into the merchant’s side. He keeps his wings pulled in tight so Ravio can arch a wing over him. It cuts off the sunlight, but it’s also safe.

Flockmate, yes, he chirps. Cuddle-nest. 

Ravio purrs and wraps an arm around Wild, who relaxes into the pressure. The need to chirp for missing flock fades. And this is a much nicer nest; a good nest in a good location. 

By the time Legend and Hyrule come home, Wild is sprawled in the nest, wings loose. Ravio dozes lightly, one wing still thrown across his. 

Flockmate? Worry where? Home! Legend’s call carries, followed by Hyrule giving the sub-flock call. 

Wild flicks an ear and raises his head, calling back. Here, yes, flockmate, cuddle-nest! 

A minute later, their feet thud on the stairs and the two avians join them. Legend observes them, hands on his hips. “Nice to see you both hard at work.”

Cuddle-nest! Wild trills and Hyrule pushes past Legend to dive into the pillows and wiggle under Wild’s wing. He chuffs and wraps around his flockmate. Yes, missed you, missed flock.

Miss you miss you! Hyrule warbles back. Sad, lonely, not flock without you. 

Ravio chirps at Legend, still outside the nest. “Care to join us?”

Cuddle-nest!  Wild adds. 

Legend goes, because there’s no way he’s sitting this out. He ends up sandwiched between Wild on his free side and Ravio sprawled half on top of him. The space isn’t really big enough for four boys and wings, but after a bit of shuffling and pushing pillows, they all settle. 

The magpie gives a sleepy call, answered by the others. Flockmates safe, together, love you. Surrounded by feathers and contented chirps, Wild relaxes with his family.

#flufftober2023 #nook #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu flufftober #breannasfluff #mywriting #lu wing bois #lu wing au #lu legend #lu wild #lu ravio #lu hyrule

[baylardian-1]

I don't think Kathryn would get to indulge her bug cravings all that often. Kinda similarly to how some reptiles only eat live insects, I bet there's something more appetizing to her about live bugs as opposed to replicated nonliving ones. And Chakotay would have noticed this preference probably around their time together spent on New Earth in Resolutions and maybe Basics as well hehe.

So with that like, I think whenever they'd go and visit bazaars or alien markets or whatever on planets for supplies, she passes stalls or merchants selling live insects as like culinary delicacies and yearns a little but never indulges herself in buying any 'cause it's off-task and self-serving. And Chakotay would maybe see her craving a particular huge and wriggling buggy in a stall and he asks if she wants it and she's a little hesitant and reluctant for a variety of reasons, kinda embarrassed that she craves bugs to begin with, but he INSISTS she buy it. As a treat. :)

#i yearn for like alien merchant scenes like always haha #when i used to write >____> id do a lot of bar scenes and commerce stuff haha ITS JUST A VIBE #chakotay hates bugs!!!!!!! #theyre perfect for each other <3 #My Art #Threshold #AU #Kathryn Janeway #Star Trek: Voyager #Human #Chakotay

[mothfables]

Ravioli Ship Week Day 4: Beach Episode

“Do you have everything? Books? Bathing suit?” Ravio asks.

“Mhmm!” Link hums. Bun woke up little today, but Ravio hadn’t wanted to let their trip go to waste. He wants his bunny to enjoy the beach no matter buns age, so he makes sure to pack some of buns favourite stories and snacks. Toys are staying home to keep them from getting covered in sand.

Link bounces on buns toes as bun waits for him to finish double checking and closing the door. The moment the key clicks in the lock Link is grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the path. Ravio laughs and tugs bun back to link their hands together.

“Slow down, bunny! The beach isn’t that far, we can take our time.”

It’s true- they live about an hour away by foot. Plenty of time to get some of Link’s excess energy out, but short enough neither of them will be too tired to enjoy the beach when they arrive.

True to Ravio’s word it isn’t long before they make it to their destination. He sets their things down a good distance from the water and manages to get Link out of buns shirt and shoes before sitting back and watching the boy make a dash for the waves.

Ravio settles on a towel with one of his books, content to simply sit and read for a while. He makes it through a few paragraphs before there’s a loud squeal followed by childish laughter from further down the beach.

He glances up to see Link dancing away from an oncoming wave, a bright grin lighting buns face.

“Be careful, bunny!” he calls.

“I am!”

Time passes, the sun climbing higher in the sky. Ravio is thankful he chose to wear shorts and a loose shirt today as the temperature rises further. Link comes back a few times, dropping off interesting seashells or rocks before scurrying away again.

Ravio is deep in his book when he becomes aware of something rustling through the bag at his side. He looks over to see Link pawing through it, tongue sticking out in concentration.

“If you want a snack or something, you can just ask,” Ravio says. Link gives a startled squeak.

Link pulls buns arms out of the bag to reveal a familiar patchwork purple bunny plush clutched in thin hands. Ravio raises an eyebrow in surprise.

“You brought Lola?” A nod. “What happened to leaving your toys at home so they don’t get sandy?”

“W’nted t’ show her th’ beach,” Link mumbles, holding the toy close. Ravio sighs.

“Well, alright. Just be careful with her, okay? I don’t think she’d like being dropped in the water very much.” Link nods enthusiastically and springs to buns feet. Ravio watches bun go, shaking his head.

Link spends another hour or so exploring the beach with Lola in hand, peeking into tide pools and watching crabs and other creatures crawl along the sand. Ravio’s sure there will be plenty of stories once they pack up and head home for the day.

Eventually, though, Link tires of running back and forth and splashing in the waves, coming over to plop down next to Ravio for a break. The merchant hands over a snack and some water, which are accepted gratefully, before brushing some of the sand for buns hair. Amazingly, there doesn’t seem to be a speck of it on Lola.

Unbidden, a chuckle escapes his lips. Link blinks up at him, curious, and Ravio gives bun a smile. “Just happy to be here, that’s all.”

Link nuzzles his hand with a smile of buns own, which only grows when Ravio leans down to place a kiss on buns brow.

They stay like that for a little while before Ravio glances up to see the sun notably lower than it was before. He nudges Link gently.

“Are you ready to head home, little bunny mine?”

“Mhm.”

The pair of them get to their feet and begin collecting their things. Back in the bag go the towels and Ravio’s book. Link shakes off the sand before wriggling back into buns shirt and shoes, Lola in hand.

Then they set off for home.

#moth’s tales #raviolishipweek #ravioli ship #raviolink #qpr link x ravio #queerplatonic relationship #age regression #legend of zelda agere #sfw regression #fanfiction #legend of zelda fanfiction #loz a link between worlds #bun/bunself pronouns #link being little is inspired by cripple-cat’s sickfic

[rinriya]

You can do anything

pairing: Astarion x male Tav notes: It's just a small drabble with my favorite Star boy. The second character is my MC (Tav) Esbern (warlock), and the plot contains minor spoilers for one of the good ending epilogue (that isn't in the game yet). tags: post-canon, canon compliant, hurt/comfort, romance

Starless night. Long shadows. Quiet streets. A burning candle and only two sleepless people in a small room. One of them is headlong into work, while the other is overwhelmed by thoughts of what has been and what will be.

A starless night wrapped the restless streets of Baldur's Gate with a quiet tread, an alluring whisper, secrets hidden in dark corners. A cacophony of voices spread throughout the city, giving life to it just a few hours ago. It gives life with children's laughter, drunken swearing, invitational offers, playful teasing. The ringing trills of the bards intertwined with the chirping of birds, and waves crashing on rotten bridge supports drowned out the cries of fishermen tired of the heat.

The citizens of Baldur's Gate have seen a lot in their lifetime, but no force has ever managed to break the persistent spirit of people who managed to return to their usual routine after the events that are usually become legends. Heroic deeds remain in memory, on yellowed pages, in cracks appearing on the walls and in stories falling from the lips, but life… it continues, waiting for new heroes, new wounds, new memories. People will not stop fighting for their existence, and only Lady Shar remains an unchanging force capable of plunging the city into silence after a tumultuous day. The silence of not death, but peace and hope for a new day. The Goddess of the Night brings secrets with her, opens the doors to «life in darkness», tempts them with sad thoughts that involuntarily creep into the head after a hectic day, but for many she remains only a symbol of another moment gone into eternity.

The cool air penetrates the wide-open window with a playful gust, like a curious uninvited guest. He rustles between the manuscripts piled up in a small pile, ruffles the bangs of people sitting at the table and forces the candle flame to wriggle in an anxious dance, so then it dissolves into the darkness of a small room. The long shadows stretched out on the table move discontentedly, obeying the fiery flashes, and involuntarily hypnotize anyone who looks at them, reflected in thoughtful, unusual for a simple person, scarlet eyes.

Astarion attentively, but as if disinterestedly observes the changed situation in the room. It is fleeting, but delightful as a variety after a monotonous pastime. The penetrating gaze glides over the moving shadows, over the books randomly laid out on the table and the piles of carelessly written papers; over the modest furnishings in the room: a wooden bed that creaks like a rusty cart that a miserly merchant still cannot fix, a narrow closet and a lonely chair with three legs. It lingers on the blackout curtains, brand new, expensive, and absurdly out of place in the general situation, to finally freeze on the face of the young man sitting next to him.

A half-elf, not man, if you really want to find fault with words, as some proud races like to do, meticulous about their ancestors and traditions. Esbern does not belong to such. Moreover, he prefers to hide the pointed tips of his ears, tries his best not to stand out. Astarion is terribly indignant at this, ready to shower his beloved with all the epithets known to him, but he does not insist on an opinion, accepting someone else's desire with due respect. He knows perfectly well what it's like when others don't hear you and is still surprised by the opposite. Getting used to the opportunities, to the choices provided, to your own decisions turned out to be much more difficult than it seemed.

The realization of one's own freedom did not become a magical elixir that instantly changed ingrained habits, destroyed long-standing fears, and relieved the unbearable feeling of guilt that periodically returns with a fanged grin and a haughty look. Astarion thought that the inability to feel the sun's rays on his skin again would be the most unbearable consequence of his «newfound life». As it turned out, this is nothing compared to the overwhelming burden of memories. Esbern keeps saying that everything is just ahead, that too little time has passed, and Astarion has already made incredible steps towards healing, but it seems to Astarion himself that he is still marking time in one place.

However, such thoughts are probably natural to someone who has not believed in himself for two centuries. So Astarion will have to believe Esbern.

The man sighs softly, resting his elbow on the cracked surface of the table, and leans his temple against his clenched fist. His gaze is still piercing and unwavering, which would have made many uncomfortable a long time ago, but the enthusiastic Esbern does not care at all. Plunging headlong into his favorite hobby, the young warlock completely forgot about the world around him. Astarion could easily have gone to the Underdark right now, dragged all the liberated vampire spawns into their modest home, and Es wouldn't even have noticed it.

However, maybe if they all shouted in his ear at the same time… Astarion shook his head sharply, pushing away stupid thoughts. He absolutely did not want his fiancé's heart to burst with fright. And anyway, only Astarion is allowed to cause Esbern's heart attacks. Unfortunately, now it was unsuccessful, which made him unbearably want to express his indignation at the books that captured warlock's attention. But in this case, Astarion would certainly have caused a real sequential chaos: first, heavy folios piled on top of each other would have fallen to the floor, then ancient volumes, scrolls and manuscripts; ink would have spilled, important records would have got wet. The cherry on the cake would have been an inverted bowl of cold, rich soup, which Esbern bought from the innkeeper who rented them a room, but which was never touched. In general, dramatic, but even for the taste of Astarion, too much.

It remained only to indulge in memories, simultaneously thinking of less risky ways to attract attention. Esbern is an understanding partner, but it is unlikely that he would like to be left without a roof over his head because of the antics of his chosen one on the basis of «why don't you look at me»? Ridiculous. Just ridiculous. Es already allowed Astarion a lot: for example, he didn't even think to stop him from destroying Cazador's castle.

He could have offered to take with them at least some valuable things from there for sale, but he did not do this because of the understanding of Astarion's feelings and how unbearably disgusted he became at the mere thought of the place where he spent more than two hundred years as a slave. Therefore, when the vampire was rushing through the long corridors like a furious whirlwind, setting fire to everything around, Esbern humbly helped to get rid of the disgusting remnant of the past with his fire magic.

He rescued his lover from the burning clutches of madness, preventing him from being burned alive. At that moment, a feeling of euphoria overwhelmed Astarion with his head, but common sense returned much later, forcing the man to look like a guilty mouse at Esbern bursting into laughter.

The young man did not see anything terrible in what had happened, and this amazed Astarion most of all. Sometimes Astarion was genuinely perplexed by the actions of the warlock, and worried about him, because this man managed to save the whole world, but at the same time he listened trustfully to the cunning merchant who was selling him apples at an inflated price, claiming that they were brought all the way from the Cold Lands.

Astarion, who is versed in people, has long understood that Es is just skillfully pretending to be a naive simpleton for some personal reasons, but never makes a fool of himself on purpose. He rather gives everyone a chance to enjoy something in life, whether it's a successful trade, a full stomach, a dispute resolved peacefully… or a saved soul at the most necessary moment of life, by being guided on the right path.

Astarion involuntarily winces, as if the scars on his back have bled again, as on the first day of their «appearance». The theme of the ritual, which had become an unspoken «taboo»: stabbed with a curved dagger, burned with a castle, scattered with ashes, never rose between him and Esbern. And even if he can't get rid of the distinct «sign» left on his back, Astarion believes that over time this damned hateful «masterpiece» will become a reminder of his inner strength, of the difficult path and the freedom he has found. This is not the case now, but everything is ahead. That's what Esbern says, and Astarion believes him implicitly.

A sensitive ear catches another inverted page, forcing him to sigh heavily. Astarion wants to touch his beloved unbearably badly: he even raises his hand to give in to the impulse, but freezes. Pale palm, thin long fingers, neat nails. And dirt. Dirt. Dirt. Disgusting, viscous, contrasting with the dead whiteness of the skin, capable of staining Esbern.

Astarion knows that this is not real, but he still lowers his hand. Dirt is often seen by a vampire: sometimes with a sticky substance, sometimes with thin drops flowing down his hands, sometimes mixed with blood. The residual effects of his past: a deep trauma that Esbern also teaches him to overcome.

The warlock is tactile but does everything to make Astarion feel comfortable. It's awkward, it's weird, it takes both to get used to it. But the vampire likes their so-called «platonic touch lessons.» He likes to touch Esbern, to initiate rapprochement, to lead. These are his real feelings. He does not impose them on himself to believe and successfully fulfill the assignment of his master, but sincerely enjoys the warmth of another person, learns intimate pleasures, discovers his own desires. And he does it with someone he loves. Therefore, frankly speaking, it does not bother him at all if he will never be able to touch someone else again in his life. He doesn't need it anymore.

“You'll soon turn into one of our friends if you spend so much time poring over books,” Astarion says with a slight smile, playfully touching Esbern's cheek with the tip of a quill pen. “And I'm not talking about a lover of cats, Goddesses, and explosions”.

“I'm almost done, just one more page,” responds Warlock, waving away the ticklish feeling.

“My Dear, I know you well and so I don't believe a single word. Besides, weren't you going to the library this morning?”

“I was!” Es instantly perks up, finally paying attention to his fiance. “There was talk in the city about the new arrival of forbidden magic books. Surely there will be something about vampirism! I'll go find out, and at night we'll go for books together”.

“And what about compliance with the law?” Astarion squints cheerfully.

“Of course. Next time”.

Esbern closes the book, carefully putting it aside and grabs the wagging tip of the pen with his fingers to playfully kiss the soft feathers. Astarion realizes that his lips are spreading in a silly smile, and immediately pulls himself together. He wore elegant masks so often that it is still not easy for him to be himself uncontrollably.

“And I also need to buy some food. And a bottle of wine. So, while you're sleeping, I'll also go to the market”.

Astarion does not need food, and Esbern is ready to saturate him with blood at any moment, but it is vital for the half-elf himself. In addition, despite the skepticism of his beloved, Esbern got it into his head that the taste of his blood becomes much more pleasant with a healthy diet. The vampire has no idea where the warlock got it from, and what he eats, but the irony is that his blood is extremely exquisite. The option that Astarion just went crazy because of love and adoration is not excluded as well.

“Then go to rest,” the vampire sums up, getting up from the table. “You need a full sleep”.

“And you?”

“And I'm with you”.

Esbern blows out the candle, and as usual delicately asks, getting up after Astarion:

“Can I hug you?”

“Of course. You can do anything”.

Warlock doesn't say anything to this, just smiles slightly, heading for the bed. Astarion perfectly understands the meaning of the smile. It will take a long time before this «you can do anything» really becomes a routine thing in their relationship, and not a prepared phrase-habit. But they both know everything will be fine. After all, gradually, step by step, day by day, mutually trying for the good of the relationship, setting new goals for themselves, being the meaning and support for each other, they will replace some memories with others. They may not completely erase it, but they will look back on these memories without painful regrets.

#bg 3 astarion #astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x mc #astarion spoilers #astarion romance #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate #bg3 spoilers #esbern #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #astarion x male tav

[ga-yuu]

----Part 1-----

After being dressed up by Sueharu-san, we finally attended the banquet of the noble family....

(This has to be the luxurious place on earth right now!)

The garden was lit by several bonfires.

Some enjoy the sounds of dance and music, some float their boats on the pond, and some put their fans to their mouth to gossip...

After a few drinks, the invited guests split up into several groups, each having their own fun.

Sueharu: "Look at this. Nice fancy banquet as requested."

Sueharu: "With so many people playing around, it's not going to be a problem for us to wriggle in and out."

Sueharu: "It's a private party, so a lot of people bring their favorite playmates."

Yoshino: "Sueharu-san is indeed natural...."

Sueharu: "Because I'm used to all of this. Besides-----"

Sueharu-san quickly indicates the area with his hand.

Sueharu: "The food is made from rare ingredients, the scenery is beautiful and the entertainment is spectacular. It's all things that money can buy."

Sueharu: "A merchant who is nervous around 'their goods' is third-rate."

Yoshino: "I see..."

(Sueharu-san's attitude as a merchant is genuine)

------Options-------

I want to learn from you.

I will do my best.

Until I reach that point.

--------

Yoshino: "I'd like to learn from you, that kind of thing."

Sueharu: "Even though, we're enemies?"

Yoshino: "Because we're enemies."

Sueharu: "Sure. I kinda like that about you."

(...I'm no match for you)

I look at Sueharu-san and smile as naturally as possible.

Yoshino: "So what are we going to do now?"

Yoshino: "The person we're investigating...Sadakatsu-sama, has to be somewhere in this venue, right?"

Sueharu: "Yeah. But I would like to meet him in a natural way as possible----"

The moment Sueharu-san looked around....

Court noble 1: "How dare you!"

Court noble 2: "You're the one who's going out of line!"

(What!?)

In the corner where people were gathered, a loud voice rang out.

Sueharu: "Oh? Is that a fight? Let's go see."

Yoshino: "Eh?"

(Woah!?)

His one hand goes around my waist, pulling my body very close.

(I...I'm an evil woman now, evil woman, evil woman)

I remembered what Sueharu-san told me and started walking.

We approached the direction of the fight...

Guest 1: "I sympathize with you that someone you're in love with cuckolded you, but wasn't it because he was a bit too drunk?"

Guest 2: "He is always a bit of a drunkard."

Guest 3: "No no no. The cuckold is also very open about it. He's famous for his bad womanizing habits and his bad temper."

(Wow...that's a very murky story)

The nobleman who was described as having bad womanizing habits had several flashy women attend to him.

The other official, who is said to be a 'drunkard' is red-faced with anger and drunkenness.

Sueharu: "It looks like it's a fight between the two sides."

----Part 2----

Sueharu: "It looks like it's a fight between the two sides."

Yoshino: "You're right..."

The two men were seen arguing in the crowd that had begun to gather.

Court noble 1: "You shameless bastard!"

(Ah)

The contents of the cup he is holding are hurled at his opponent with great force.

Court noble 2: "Hey!"

The man who almost had is head drenched in alcohol, snatched the other man's sake cup.

He tried to slam it to the ground in frustration.

Sueharu: "Excuse me."

Sueharu intervened with a cool face and grabbed the man's wrist just in time.

Yoshino: "....! Sueharu-san!"

Sueharu: "Woah."

His other hand then quickly caught the sake cup as it was about to fall.

(Amazing reflexes! Even though he's not a samurai..)

The spectators also gave a faint exclamation of admiration.

Court noble 2: "Who are you!?"

Sueharu: "A merchant. Thank you for having me."

Court noble 1: "How impolite for a merchant to come between us!"

(What should I do? ...What if Sueharu-san gets punished?)

Despite my concern, Sueharu-san is smiling aloof.

Sueharu: "What a nice cup. I thought it was too good to break."

Sueharu: "In the first place, the nobility has no place for tactless quarrels."

Sueharu: "How about this? Why don't you settle this fight with a bet?"

(....! Sueharu-san's aim is to attract the attention of Sadakatsu-sama, who is somewhere in this venue through betting?)

Court noble 2: "It's not worth listening to people like you."

Then women around him screamed in disbelief.

Noble lady 1: "Oh my, they're going to gamble!? How interesting."

Noble lady 2: "Me too! I'd like to see it."

Noble lady 3: "I'm scared seeing people fight."

Court noble 2: "Ngh...."

The women's gazes were clearly on Sueharu-san.

(This noble man is also very good-looking, as he has so many women with him, but....)

(But he doesn't hold a candle against Sueharu-san at all)

Noticing the flirtatious atmosphere among the women, the court nobles faces turns uninterested.

Court noble 2: "....Alright then. Hey you, merchant! You should join the bet too."

Court noble 1: "Ha...that's right."

(These people....)

They should have turned their hatred towards each other.

Apparently, they temporarily bonded after finding an unsavory opponent that is Sueharu-san.

Sueharu: "If you invite me to join you, I won't refuse."

-----Part 3----

Sueharu: "If you invite me to join you, I won't refuse."

Sueharu: "I thank you for your hospitality."

(You don't look nervous at all...)

Perhaps since the fight was heard.

It occurred to me that Sueharu-san might have had this development in mind.

Sueharu: "Let's roll the die in this cup and bet on whether the number that comes out is odd or even."

Soon after, servants brought in rugs and an impromptu betting hall was set up.

Yoshino: "Sueharu-san, are you good at gambling?"

While the seats are being prepared, I secretly exchange a few words with Sueharu-san.

Sueharu: "Not like Morinaga. No. It's not my thing to play games where luck is involved."

(Come to think of it, I've heard that Morinaga-san is a big gambler...)

Yoshino: "Are you sure you want to gamble?"

Sueharu: "Don't worry. There are strategies for these kinds of bets."

Yoshino: "Strategies?"

Sueharu: "You'll see."

Sueharu-san stroked my hair gently.

And so the betting began...

Sueharu: "Oops. I lost. That's a shame."

Court noble 1: "Ahahaha. Better luck next time."

Court noble 2: "You should have at least made it fun for us."

The pile of wooden notes representing the amount of the bets placed by Sueharu-san is taken by the court nobles.

(Sueharu-san, what are you planning....?)

Sitting next to Sueharu-san, I watch the game unfold with trepidation.

Sueharu: "That's what I'm talking about! You have a lot of luck."

Court noble 2: "Well...it's only natural. As the bloodline of a great family, we have been blessed with luck from the moment we came into this world."

Sueharu: "----I see. Well, that makes sense."

(...Sueharu-san who is born an orphan and worked his way up on his own)

(I wonder how he felt when he heard those words)

The smile on his face looked sweet that makes me sad.

Court noble 1: "How much do you want to bet next round?"

Sueharu: "Double the current amount, then."

-----Part 4-----

Court noble 1: "How much do you want to bet next round?"

Sueharu: "Double the current amount, then."

Yoshino: "Eh.."

(Even the amount you just bet was enough to make me break out in a cold sweat inside)

The nobles raised their eyebrows, but said nothing and resumed betting.

And----

Sueharu: "This time I won. Looks like I got lucky."

Court noble 1: "Argh..."

(We're currently 50-50. We are neither winning nor losing)

(But)

After several rounds of the game, a mountain of wooden cards is piled up in front of Sueharu-san.

The two opposing court nobles have only a few wooden cards left.

(Sueharu-san keeps doubling his bets nonchalantly every time he loses)

(So you only need to win once to make a lot of money....)

Court noble 2: "No way....! This has to be a bluff. This way, we'll run out of money soon."

Sueharu: "Oh don't worry. Thanks to you, business is thriving."

Before we knew it, we were surrounded by a larger crowd than ever before.

A man carrying a heavy-looking box steps up to Sueharu-san, weaving his way through the gap.

(That person is...?)

Sueharu: "Just in time. It's my subordinate."

Subordinate: "This way, please."

Kneeling besides Sueharu-san, the man opens the box and...

(What the...)

Gold nuggets was laid out in a row, glittering in the middle of the room.

Sueharu: "As you can see, our war chest is well-funded."

Court nobles: "Ah..."

(....It's certainly a strategy that only Sueharu-san can use. I never thought there was such a way to win)

The guests, who are supposed to be of noble birth, look at the gold nuggets with open mouth.

The lustful gazes of the women towards Sueharu-san also increased.

Sueharu: "Well, my princess here seems to be getting a bit bored by these petty bets, so it might be a good idea to up the stakes all at once!"

Sueharu: "Hey, Yoshino. How much do you want me to bet this time?"

----Part 5-----

Sueharu: "Well, my princess here seems to be getting a bit bored by these petty bets, so it might be a good idea to up the stakes all at once!"

Sueharu: "Hey, Yoshino. How much do you want me to bet this time?"

(Me!?)

He takes my hand before I can think and drops a kiss on top of it.

The heat spreading from that place nearly blanked me out of my thoughts.........

(....Sueharu-san doesn't do things without a reason)

(This betting session might be to get Sadakatsu-sama's attention....)

Yoshino: "You're right...."

I smiled softly and gently squeezed Sueharu-san's hand.

Sueharu: ".........."

(It's okay. I have Sueharu-san's spell on me)

With our gazes entwined, I unfolded Sueharu-san's fingers one by one.

Yoshino: "One two three....five? One hand can only count up to five, huh? That's a shame."

(If I'm going to play the role of Sueharu-san's mistress of all people, I have to bluff at least this much, right....?)

Sueharu: "Yoshino..."

Sueharu-san's voice was lower than usual.

The tip of a red tongue peeked out from between his lips, and there was a lustful atmosphere around us.

Sueharu: "If I can't live up to the expectation of the woman I love then I cannot be a man."

(....Nn)

Sueharu: "----I'll bet you ten times the money I have now."

Shrieking noises fills the air.

(I think you're overdoing it)

I was doing my best to keep my upset from showing on my face.

Sueharu-san then came closer, filling up the distance between us.

Sueharu: "If I win this bet, will you reward me with a sweet kiss?"

Chapter 12

#ikemen series #ikemen genjiden #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #cybird #ikemen mc #ikegen #main story translations #ikemen genjiden sueharu

[mariacallous]

If you were asked to guess which prestigious film-making duo had spent their career scratching around desperately for cash, trying to wriggle out of paying their cast and crew, ping-ponging between lovers, and having such blood-curdling bust-ups that their neighbours called the police, it might be some time before “Merchant Ivory” sprang to mind. But a new warts-and-all documentary about the Indian producer Ismail Merchant and the US director James Ivory makes it clear that the simmering passions in their films, such as the EM Forster trilogy of A Room With a View, Maurice and Howards End, were nothing compared to the scalding, volatile ones behind the camera.

From their initial meeting in New York in 1961 to Merchant’s death during surgery in 2005, the pair were as inseparable as their brand name, with its absence of any hyphen or ampersand, might suggest. Their output was always more eclectic than they got credit for. They began with a clutch of insightful Indian-set dramas including Shakespeare-Wallah, their 1965 study of a troupe of travelling actors, featuring a young, pixieish Felicity Kendal. From there, they moved on to Savages, a satire on civilisation and primitivism, and The Wild Party, a skewering of 1920s Hollywood excess that pipped Damien Chazelle’s Babylon to the post by nearly half a century.

It was in the 1980s and early 1990s, though, that Merchant Ivory became box-office titans, cornering the market in plush dramas about repressed Brits in period dress. Those literary adaptations launched the careers of Hugh Grant, Helena Bonham Carter, Rupert Graves and Julian Sands, and helped make stars of Emma Thompson and Daniel Day-Lewis. Most were scripted by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala, who had been with them, on and off, since their 1963 debut The Householder; she even lived in the same apartment building in midtown New York. Many were scored by Richard Robbins, who was romantically involved with Merchant while also holding a candle for Bonham Carter. These films restored the costume drama to the position it had occupied during David Lean’s heyday. The roaring trade in Jane Austen adaptations might never have happened without them. You could even blame Merchant Ivory for Bridgerton.

Though the pictures were uniformly pretty, making them was often ugly. Money was always scarce. Asked where he would find the cash for the next movie, Merchant replied: “Wherever it is now.” After Jenny Beavan and John Bright won an Academy Award for the costumes in A Room With a View, he said:“I got you your Oscar. Why do I need to pay you?” As Ivory was painstakingly composing each shot, Merchant’s familiar, booming battle cry would ring out: “Shoot, Jim, shoot!”

Heat and Dust, starring Julie Christie, was especially fraught. Only 30 or 40% of the budget was in place by the time the cameras started rolling in India in 1982; Merchant would rise at dawn to steal the telegrams from the actors’ hotels so they didn’t know their agents were urging them to down tools. Interviewees in the documentary concede that the producer was a “conman” with a “bazaar mentality”. But he was also an incorrigible charmer who dispensed flattery by the bucketload, threw lavish picnics, and wangled entrées to magnificent temples and palaces. “You never went to bed without dreaming of ways to kill him,” says one friend, the journalist Anna Kythreotis. “But you couldn’t not love him.”

Stephen Soucy, who directed the documentary, doesn’t soft-pedal how wretched those sets could be. “Every film was a struggle,” he tells me. “People were not having a good time. Thompson had a huge fight with Ismail on Howards End because she’d been working for 13 days in a row, and he tried to cancel her weekend off. Gwyneth Paltrow hated every minute of making Jefferson in Paris. Hated it! Laura Linney was miserable on The City of Your Final Destination because the whole thing was a shitshow. But you watch the films and you see no sense of that.”

Soucy’s movie features archive TV clips of the duo bickering even in the midst of promoting a film. “Oh, they were authentic all right,” he says. “They clashed a lot.”The authenticity extended to their sexuality. The subject was not discussed publicly until after Ivory won an Oscar for writing Call Me By Your Name: “You have to remember that Ismail was an Indian citizen living in Bombay, with a deeply conservative Muslim family,” Ivory told me in 2018. But the pair were open to those who knew them. “I never had a sense of guilt,” Ivory says, pointing out that the crew on The Householder referred to him and Merchant as “Jack and Jill”.

Soucy had already begun filming his documentary when Ivory published a frank, fragmentary memoir, Solid Ivory, which dwells in phallocentric detail on his lovers before and during his relationship with Merchant, including the novelist Bruce Chatwin. It was that book which emboldened Soucy to ask questions on screen – including about “the crazy, complicated triangle of Jim, Ismail and Dick [Robbins]” – that he might not otherwise have broached.

The documentary is most valuable, though, in making a case for Ivory as an underrated advocate for gay representation. The Remains of the Day, adapted from Kazuo Ishiguro’s Booker-winning novel about a repressed butler, may be the duo’s masterpiece, but it was their gay love story Maurice that was their riskiest undertaking. Set in the early 20th century, its release in 1987 could scarcely have been timelier: it was the height of the Aids crisis, and only a few months before the Conservative government’s homophobic Section 28 became law.

“Ismail wasn’t as driven as Jim to make Maurice,” explains Soucy. “And Ruth was too busy to write it. But Jim’s dogged determination won the day. They’d had this global blockbuster with A Room With a View, and he knew it could be now or never. People would pull aside Paul Bradley, the associate producer, and say: ‘Why are they doing Maurice when they could be making anything?’ I give Jim so much credit for having the vision and tenacity to make sure the film got made.”

Merchant Ivory don’t usually figure in surveys of queer cinema, though they are part of its ecosystem, and not only because of Maurice. Ron Peck, who made the gay classic Nighthawks, was a crew member on The Bostonians. Andrew Haigh, director of All of Us Strangers, landed his first industry job as a poorly paid assistant in Merchant’s Soho office in the late 1990s; in Haigh’s 2011 breakthrough film Weekend, one character admits to freeze-framing the naked swimming scene in A Room With a View to enjoy “Rupert Graves’s juddering cock”. Merchant even offered a role in Savages to Holly Woodlawn, the transgender star of Andy Warhol’s Trash, only for her to decline because the fee was so low.

The position of Merchant Ivory at the pinnacle of British cinema couldn’t last for ever. Following the success of The Remains of the Day, which was nominated for eight Oscars, the brand faltered and fizzled. Their films had already been dismissed by the director Alan Parker as representing “the Laura Ashley school” of cinema. Gary Sinyor spoofed their oeuvre in the splendid pastiche Stiff Upper Lips (originally titled Period!), while Eric Idle was plotting his own send-up called The Remains of the Piano. The culture had moved on.

There was still an appetite for upper-middle-class British repression, but only if it was funny: Richard Curtis drew on some of Merchant Ivory’s repertory company of actors (Grant, Thompson, Simon Callow) for a run of hits beginning with Four Weddings and a Funeral, which took the poshos out of period dress and plonked them into romcoms.

The team itself was splintering. Merchant had begun directing his own projects. When he and Ivory did collaborate, the results were often unwieldy, lacking the stabilising literary foundation of their best work. “Films like Jefferson in Paris and Surviving Picasso didn’t come from these character-driven novels like Forster, James or Ishiguro,” notes Soucy. “Jefferson and Picasso were not figures that audiences warmed to.” Four years after Merchant’s death, Ivory’s solo project The City of Your Final Destination became mired in lawsuits, including one from Anthony Hopkins for unpaid earnings.

Soucy’s film, though, is a reminder of their glory days. It may also stoke interest in the movies among young queer audiences whose only connection to Ivory, now 95, is through Call Me By Your Name. “People walk up to Jim in the street to shake his hand and thank him for Maurice,” says Soucy. “But I also wanted to include the more dysfunctional side of how they were made. Hopefully it will be inspiring to young film-makers to see that great work can come out of chaos.”

[that-worm-rpgverse]

[Keep in mind that Seasonal Worms may have up to ten(10) name candidates!]

#writer of universes #wriggling merchant #loreposting #[i guess? more of a loading tip than a lorepost]

[leavingsunsets]

"What a shiny car."

You find Kalim injured and tend to him, with a twist.

(Just a drabble fic for a mootie.)

Shenanigans were a norm in NRC.

There'd be Adeuce and grim causing a ruckus, the tweels running about, and the voice of Sebek being heard a mile away. Really, despite how wild it all is, nobody takes it that seriously.

I mean, at the end of the day, they have their housewardens to keep them in line, and reign them in when things go too far. What's to worry about, right?

...

A lot of things, actually.

Scarabia was in chaos.

You see, Jamil's not here. Already a very bad sign. He's been in the clinic since getting into an incident during basketball practice. And so, due to a coincidence and an inconvenient conversation, you were to assist Kalim in his place instead. He only allowed it because he was only going to be gone for an hour or so.

Problem is, Kalim is nowhere to be found.

So, right now, you were in the middle of dodging magic spells being thrown left and right. You tried to deescalate the situation, you really did, but it seems unless you were either a certain assertive dancer or a white haired merchant's son, they didn't care what you had to say.

You hiss a curse under your breath, crawling across the ground like a soldier in the trenches. Kalim was usually present whenever everyone gathered, and that fact that he wasn't made you even more worried.

But finally, after 5 minutes of crawling, you get to the mirror. You quickly pass through it, but not before a pen hits your back as you hurry out.

------

Heaving, you're bent over, hands on your knees as you try to catch you breath. It would've been relieving to know you're out, but the emergency isn't over. So, with a groan, you think over where Kalim could possibly be.

"Uhh, c'mon, think brain, think."

....

"Maybe the light music club?"

Well, there's not much time for hesitation now, so.

Soon enough, you find your way there, and burst through the door.

"KALIM, THE DORM'S-"

Kalim lies buried under a cabinet, only his hand is out. And you could tell it was him because he was holding a drumstick. The literal stick, not the chicken leg, but I'm sure there wouldn't have been a difference anyway. Or would it? A chicken drumstick on the ground would be a much more concerning matter. A devastating waste of food. Anyways, back to the injured boy.

Alarmed, you immediately rush to push the cabinet off him. It doesn't move it much, but it's enough for him to wriggle out.

"Kalim! Are you okay?" you blurt out worriedly, helping him get up on his feet.

"I'm fine!" he reassures, chuckling nervously as he takes your hand. "Just might have rocked too hard a little is all, hehe." the boy even does a little laugh as if he wasn't buried under a 7 foot cabinet a few minutes ago. "Oh, but you were yelling something awhile ago. Did you need me for something?

"Yes, actually, and since you're fine, we need to go now." taking his hand, you start dragging him out the room, and out to the courtyard.

"Wh- Huh? But where are we going?" Kalim questions, stumbling along despite his confusion.

"There dorms in chaos right now. I tried to fix it but they just won't listen to me! Some are trying to help but-"

Suddenly, a vehicle crashes through the hallway in front of you. Dust from the rubble get all up in your faces, sending both of you into a coughing fit.

However, the moment the dust clears, you see it is a blue chevy equinox! And it's coming straight towards you!

You stumble out of it's way in a hurry, tripping on the grass. Kalim was less fortunate, having been blinded by the lights, and screams as the car vrooms toward him.

He collides with the vehicle, rolling on the hood with broken yelps. The driver doesn't even stop, they just keep driving until they crash into another building.

Then, a familiar voice speaks up from afar.

"What the fuck?"

Standing by the corner, is Jamil, frozen in place at the sight of a bruised Kalim groaning on the ground and your figure right beside rubble and a busted wall.

Crowley also takes a sudden appearance beside him, about to chide Jamil for his language until he sees the crashed hole in the wall.

He starts screaming something something about insurance while Jamil rushes toward you both.

"I swear to the SEVENS I can't keep my eyes off you for 5 MINUTES." He hisses through gritted teeth, brows furrowed in annoyance. He helps Kalim up while you try to pat the dust off your clothes.

"What happened?" The boy queries, putting an arm around a disoriented Kalim to lead to the clinic.

"A very long story."

Jamil sighs.

#okay this is just a crackfic for a mootie #crack fic #for my mootie #sen writes ! #twst jamil #twst kalim #jamil viper #kalim al asim

[damien-wolfram-art]

Different

   Hashirama stepped out from the warmth of his farmhouse into the harsh morning coldness of his winter garden. The freshly fallen snow crunched beneath his boots as he made his way over to his greenhouse. The windows were painted with steam from within. He rubbed his gloved hands together and exhaled eagerly, fogging up the window to the door. Earlier that week, he had spoken with an odd merchant to procure a new bonsai for his growing collection. Now that it was in his greenhouse, he was excited to see if it would overwinter well.

   He pushed in the door and felt the hot breath of the sauna-like conditions, steaming his olive face. His face brimmed with a large smile, despite the dew collecting on his eyebrows. On one of the many tables within, was the pot in question. At the very center, was a small sprout. “Oh! Nice!” He cheered, running over to greet the new addition. 

   “Well, aren’t you looking healthy this morning?” He began preemptively. It wasn’t until further inspection that he noticed small black fibers growing out of the ground around his little sprout. He suppressed a gasp. Could it really be mold? So early in the game?

   Hashirama wasn’t going to take any chances. He peeled off his gloves and rushed to find the mold killer that his brilliant younger brother, Tobirama, had gifted him with. In his haste, his hand brushed by a cardboard box and its edge cut surprisingly deep into his hand. He winced, but he was desperate to get back to his newest obsession, so he put healing himself off to the side. Instead, he grabbed the spray bottle and rushed to the little bonsai’s aid.

   A knock at the door stopped him in his tracks. 

   “Eldest brother?” Called a voice younger than Tobirama, it was his second youngest, Itama.

   “Yes? Come in, don’t catch cold!” Hashirama chastised. In his distraction, he didn’t notice a drop of blood leaving his hand to fall on the leaves of the tiny sprout.

   “You’re one to talk about well-being! You forgot breakfast again! Kawarama made some for all of us. C’mon before it gets cold! Your plants will still be here, I promise!”

   Defeated by his brother’s kindness, Hashirama had no choice but to join his two youngest siblings. “I will be right back,” he whispered to the bonsai and ran to catch up with Itama, leaving the mold killer behind.

   While the man with the green thumb was away, something began to stir in the soil. At first, it was a mere wriggle. Then, the soil shifted and the head of a small man emerged. At the top of his head was the little sprout surrounded by thick black locks of hair matted with dirt. His tiny dark eyes took in what felt to him the vast expanse of his greenhouse home.

   Hashirama did keep his promise though. Moments after the little man emerged, he returned still chewing on some breakfast. He nearly choked upon seeing what was in his newest pot. He had to force the food down as he scrambled to the table. “Hello there!” He greeted the timid looking dirt covered creature.

   “Hello there!” He echoed; his voice was strong, deep, and respectable though it felt pitched up to match his stature.

   Hashirama was stunned. “Y-you can talk?” He asked.

   “You can talk?”

   “Well, yes, I can talk and so can you it seems!” He burst into boisterous laughter. 

   “I can talk,” said the plant man, quickly picking up on Hashirama’s speech patterns and learning the basics of the language.

   “Yes yes! That’s amazing! So, what are you exactly?”

   The plant man furrowed his brow. “What am I?” He asked himself, rubbing his chin with his tiny hand. Suddenly, he perked up. The answer had come to him. “I am Madara!” He said proudly.

   Hashirama echoed him this time. His “R” was laughably hard compared to his plant friend. “Madara huh? You are quite different, aren’t you?”

   “No, I am Madara!” Madara corrected with passion.

   Hashirama was taken aback by the correction and chuckled. “Of course, Madara,” he began; his hard “R” remained, and Madara didn’t seem to mind this time. It seemed that his quarrel wasn’t with Hashirama’s pronunciation.  “but did you know you can be many things? You can also be different.”

   “Different?”

   “Yes, different.”

   “What’s different? Is it bad?”

   “Hm,” Hashirama leaned on the table and prodded at the sprout on Madara’s head with a knuckle. “Different isn’t bad. It means you’re special. I don’t have one of those on my head.”

   Madara leaned into the gentle stroking. “Ah I get it. I am Madara Aaand I am different!” He agreed affectionately. His smile matched the warmth of  Hashirama’s perfectly.

Part of a collaboration with @flawlessstriker

Here it is!

@hashimada-week

#hashimadaweek2023 #day 6 #flowers #hashirama #hashirama senju #madara #madara uchiha #kawarama senju #itama #senju itama #tobirama #tobirama senju #madara x hashirama #madahashi #collaboration

[wizardinthelighthouse]

a few weird wandering merchants

They appear in the most unlikely places. You cannot escape these spirits of commerce and coin. They always have something to sell.

the basket man

A mound of baskets rises from his back like a tortoise shell. He wears one on his head. A tinny voice, “Care for a basket?”

He’s proud to tell you his baskets hold twice as much as they ought to for their size. It’ll only cost you a few scraps of copper to upgrade. He holds one out like a newborn child. How generous!

After you put something in your new basket, you might hear a titillated sigh. He only looks, sometimes touches, but never takes.

Let’s just hope he doesn’t tell the wrong person what he finds there.

the lost dream

You’ve seen her face before in dreams. She could make those dreams real, for tonight, for a price.

The waking world has caught her, a fish wriggling in a net, drowning in air, hungry for water. This is the fastest way back.

It will be the best night of your life. You will remember none of it. She will slip away, a forgotten dream, leaving you behind with an empty night and emptier purse. Even dreams need silver, it seems.

She’ll freely tell you all of this. Dreams are terrible liars.

It might still be worth it though.

the writer’s friend

His beard gets tangled up with the box he holds out. He eyes you, to see if you’re made of the right stuff, before opening it.

Inside, a single pen, subtle and beautiful, battle-hardened.

Once the nib touches the paper, it will yank you along for as long as it takes, through the days and weeks and months, not giving you a moment’s rest until your work is done.

You lose something along the way…

A dear friend.

A religion.

A possession.

A hobby.

A memory.

An enemy.

the little barnacle that could

They pull themselves along, inch by inch, by inch. This how they escaped the briny clutches of the sea. Helpless, hopeful.

They have nothing to give you. But the next time the world tries to break you, you’ll remember the barnacle. Maybe you’ll find the strength to keep going.

It will die in d10 days, unless you help it find a new home.

Leave them to struggle, and the memories turn sour. A fellow adventurer, left behind.

(also on my site here)

#osr #indie ttrpg #rpg #tabletop rpg #ttrpg

[humblemooncat]

FFXIV Write 2023: A Journey of Remembrance Day 4: "Off the Hook" ♫

"Humor me a moment, will you?"

The two walked hand-in-hand through Hawker's Alley, having wandered the city since the airship arrived that afternoon. Ki'to had a twinkle in his eye, whether mischievous or no, G'raha couldn't tell.

"Dare I wonder where you're leading me if I say yes?" he asked, bemused.

"Somewhere close by. Just allow me a stop at this stall first" Ki'to replied, his hand slipping from their grip to slink over to a produce stall.

As G'raha followed him, he noticed the merchant trading hushed whispers with his husband before pulling a basket up from behind the counter to hand to him. Ki'to handed him a bag of coin and turned back to grab his lover's hand again, the basket hanging from his other arm.

G'raha gave him a quizzical tilt of his head, to which Ki'to simply replied with a grin. "You'll see. Now, let's go!"

---

"The docks?" G'raha asked, "I had figured you'd lead me to a seedy tavern or something with how you were looking"

Ki'to laughed, "I wouldn't do that to you. At least, not on this trip"

"This trip, eh?" the accusatory tone only made Ki'to grin wider.

"Tell me, do you remember the last time we all gathered here?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Of course. 'Twas before we embarked to Sharlayan"

"Indeed" Ki'to turned to the view before them, "One of many voyages I've taken from these docks. Sharlayan, Kugane, occasionally even to Thanalan" He gave a loud whistle and wave to one of the dock workers, "And not least of all, the many fishing trips"

The sea wolf waved them over, a small vessel beside him in which lay a couple fishing poles.

"You're taking me fishing?"

"You did say you'd humor me"

"Debatable"

---

The sun was on its way below the horizon as the two reeled in their last catches of the day, floating quite a ways from the docks of the city.

As Ki'to pulled his off the hook and lowered it into the water, he watched as it wriggled free of his grasp and swam away.

"Nothing quite like the freedom of being let off the line after being pulled along so long" he mused, eyes still on the water as it shone brilliantly in the last bits of sunlight.

G'raha released his own catch, looking up at his husband. "Sometimes the line is comforting, leading you through the vast ocean"

Ki'to smiled wistfully, "For a while, sure. But better momentary indecision in the face of too many choices, than to be pulled forcefully where you wish not to be" He leaned over to the basket from earlier, "But enough melancholy metaphor, this was meant to be a nice date" The clinking of glasses preceded a wine bottle as they were pulled from the basket.

Questions bubbled up and died on his lips as G'raha looked on at his lover, framed beautifully by the dying light. "Right..."

"The Admiral recommended this one. It's apparently very light and not too dry. I was never one for the dry wines" as if to punctuate his point, Ki'to's tongue poked out in disgust, "Join me for a glass under the stars before we go?"

"Of course, Love" G'raha perked himself up, "So that's what was in the basket. I had wondered"

"That and some little snacks to go with it. I asked the Admiral to order them before we arrived" Ki'to explained, "She knew better than I what paired well with what, so I asked her to surprise us"

"You trust her with these choices, I take it" G'raha asked, taking a glass from him and taking a sip.

"Among others. Like those shorts you like so much" Ki'to said with a grin, hearing an almost spit take from him.

The two continued to laugh amongst one another as they enjoyed the wine and each other's company, only rowing back to the docks once they'd had their fill of both.

Despite everything trying to fight against me today, my brain and crimes both, I finally got this done!

Today's destination: Limsa Lominsa <3

#A Journey of Remembrance #ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite #Ki'to #G'raha Tia #Wolgraha #Very glad I finished the writing portion before crimes got me pissy #I wanna throw it out a window #alas it is 1s and 0s