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#mossy scribbles
eternal-moss · 3 months
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Help tgcf is all that’s left in my head. I was just trying to do my mechanics homework and my brain went omg the question is about Honghong’er….
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My beautiful low quality son…..
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partner material...
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gh0stlymoth · 1 year
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okokok 14 and jon
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[ID: drawing of Jon Sims from tma. He is drawn from the shoulder up, his head split in half, and connected with skin strings that resemble a spider's web structure. in bewteen their two head halves are eyes looking around. One half has an almost nonchalant expression, while the other looks worried. His eyes are white and blank. around him are the lyrics: what are you afraid of; When the nightmares come and the darkness kills the day; Tell me what you're scared of; When you can't wake up and your legs won't run away. End ID]
Nr. 14 - "Violence and Spiders" by Sainz Phnx! I feel like I did this song last year already but it be a banger.
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goddessofroyalty · 2 months
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Fandom: One Piece
Going through my One Piece scribbles to do a final clean up before FF7 takes over my life from probably tonight and found this one that was me playing around with trying to match the more silly tone One Piece can get.
Law is used entirely as a convenient outsider POV.
Pairing: Zoro/Sanji
Tags: omegaverse, mpreg, accidental pregnancy
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“Are you kidding me!? Again!?”
Law makes a point of trying to ignore the Strawhats’ antics as he travels with them. Strawhat’s crew is as insane as their captain is and often loudly bicker amongst themselves seemingly just to give Law a headache.
The shrillness of Nami’s voice and way Blackleg practically prostrates himself at her side in pathetic submission has him tuning in.
“What happened?” The Strawhat’s sniper asks as the rest of the crew’s attention is drawn onto the situation as well.
“Sanji’s pregnant. Again,” Nami informs them as Blackleg lets out a pathetic whimper that would perhaps be more worrisome if it wasn’t the exact same candor as the one he gave when the strawberries he was using the previous night for desert weren’t large enough for him to carve into perfect flowers for the girl’s. Law doesn’t try and understand why a man who would happily kick anyone’s head in if they suggested he may be less for being an omega immediately breaks out the keens and whimpers associated with his designation at the first sign of any even slight offence to the women on his ship.
The navigator’s offence is deserved from Law’s perspective. While they had hidden them well the fact of him travelling on the ship with them had necessitated he be introduced to the two other children that had resulted from the unique relationship between swordsman and cook of the Strawhat crew.
“Woohoo! New crew member!” Strawhat himself crows, completely missing the gravity of travelling with a pregnant omega aboard.
Although considering they had already successfully done it at least once before Law supposes the confidence is somewhat justified.
Strawhat rattles off his list of demands following the exciting news. A feast the first, most detailed, and apparently most important, among them.
Not that much attention is being paid to him. Nami still standing with her hands on her hips looking at Blackleg expectantly.
“It’s not my fault my m- the only option I’m stuck with for my heats is a mossy brute!” Blackleg justifies. And Law is sure they all caught the slip in his words. And all know exactly what he was about to say.
Despite the two – soon to be three – children they share and the fact the world knows them as the Monster Mates of the Strawhat pirates, both Blackleg and Zoro’s necks stay bare of a mating bite.
“I didn’t do anything you didn’t ask for,” Zoro says from where he had been napping on the ship. He had had their youngest asleep with him but the boy had woken up with Strawhat’s excitement, running off to join the noise.
Blackleg glares at his not-mate and Zoro moves to quickly block the foot aimed at his gut for it.
“It’s your stupid knot that keeps breaking the condoms,” Sanji says, driving his heel into the sword Zoro has blocking him.
“It’s your fucked up fertility that keeps getting pregnant so easily,” Zoro snaps back, pushing against the food driving down onto him.
“Enough,” Nami says, before they can go into any details of how they managed to conceive three children together. Her hand coming up to massage her temple.
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cerisesakurainspring · 2 months
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Aakashi Keiji x Reader
~~A warm place to come home to~~
The black-out curtain in the compact room did a splendid job hiding the early afternoon sun rays.
The dark room, lit only by a lamp, seemed to suggest that the day had passed, and the time on the digital clock sitting atop the desk was the only indication that night had yet to come.
Akaashi rested his head and arms at his work table, eyes closed, and his right hand still grasped a pen. He must have racked his brains for an idea and closed his eyes briefly to think clearly, but the exhaustion may have been far too overwhelming that he eventually drifted to sleep.
His days off this week were not much like one, for he ended up doing work at home anyway. The recent days have been a whirlwind of deadlines for your husband, and the chaotic state of his home office is a testament to that.
Three coffee mugs rested on the desk, two empty and one half-drunk, lying cold and unfinished. The work surface that would have typically been organized was adorned with stacks of manuscripts. Piles of books lay lazily on the floor. Sticky notes in bright shades of pink, blue, and green decorated the wall and computer, appearing to be the works of a child sticking out random scribbled papers for fun.
These busy times made him quite a paradoxical man. Akaashi is efficient in all aspects of his life and is a disciplined person by nature. However, since he became an editor for a shonen manga, his methodical way of doing things was often challenged, leaving him disorganized but still surprisingly orderly and systematic in his own way.
Your husband must be deep in slumber because your presence did not awaken his usual light-sleeping self. The indigo blanket behind his chair hung low, and you grabbed it to wrap around his slumped shoulders.
He must have felt the weight and comfort of the quilt as you saw him stir a little in his sleep, tipping the glasses on his closed eyes into an awkward position. You gently removed the frames from his alluring face and kissed his temple softly before turning off the lamp on the desk.
He had skipped his lunch today, but you did not want to interrupt his much-needed rest, so you carefully left the room to cook an early dinner meal. Once the door was closed, you walked across the familiar hallway adorned with photos of you and your husband, smiling along the way until you reached the kitchen.
The mossy green paint on the cabinets, the wooden floor, and the white-marbled granite countertops gave the kitchen a homely vibe. It was the one place that you and Akaashi spent the most time in as meaningful chatters filled the air during your late-night dinners and early breakfasts.
You loved cooking and always ensured there was a warm, fulfilling meal to welcome him home from work, hoping it would ease the stress of his high-pressure working environment.
Despite being busy at work, he always stayed connected with you. Even in your dating years, he remembered to send you messages of affection despite the time constraints at his workplace.
In the midst of the turbulent hurricane of deadline madness, you were Akaashi's anchor, keeping him at ease. He thinks you would probably never understand the depth of his love for you, but he still showers you with affection and care every day.
It's probably not healthy for the heart to always melt in ecstasy, but neither of you cared and continued to bask in it. The turmoil you went through before marriage was well worth the effort and sacrifices.
By the time you finished cooking for dinner, it was only a quarter to 6 p.m., and the sun was beginning to descend on the horizon.
While preparing the cutleries, you felt a strong pair of arms envelope your waist.
"Dinner smells nice," the man said in a muffled voice. His warm breath tickled as he snuggled his nose around your collarbone, and the sudden flurry of stimulation made you giggle in delight.
"How was your nap?" You untangled your husband's arms briefly so you could face him. As he encased you in a hug once more, you could not help but notice the faint lines of tiredness etching below his sapphire eyes.
Your hands reach up towards his temple to start massaging them, and a relieved hum escapes his supple lips. He fluttered his eyes closed, and you felt his body relax its weight unto yours. You almost toppled backwards, but his hands guided the small of your back to lean against the countertop.
"Nap was good. Now I am hungry." You hear him grumble with a slight rasp in his voice. His forehead leaned unto yours as you continued to rub your thumbs on his temple.
"I made your favourite."
A throaty chuckle reverberated in his throat, and he opened his eyes to look at your happy ones. "I really am fortunate to have you by my side, my shiawase."
"And you, my darling Keiji, is also my happiness." You kiss both his cheeks, indulging your craving lips with pecks on his very own.
"I don't think my heart can take this." You feel him whisper between kisses, and a small giggle escapes your lips.
"We should probably eat before the food gets cold." Your hands found their way behind the nape of his neck and continued to caress the skin underneath his curls.
His eyes closed once more. It looks like the exhaustion is taking a toll on him, but the slight smile on his face tells you he feels content.
"I'd like to stay like this for a few more moments, my love." He whispers before kissing you.
You were both enveloped with warmth and in your homey embrace, he found solace from the pressures of his career.
"Aishiteru wa."
"Aishiteru yo."
You and Aakashi expressed this at the same time. The short pause gave both of you a moment to admire the specks in each of your eyes. You both sighed in wonder at the love and bliss that danced in his and your irises.
Somehow, that moment made you both laugh in unison. Your soft giggles intertwined with his deep titters, and they reverberated so sweetly in your cozy home.
The same thought echoed in your and Akaashi's thoughts.
It's all worth it. Well worth it.
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Ever Upon The Shores
Maglor & the Sea
My first submission for Scribbles & Drabbles @fall-for-tolkien!
Image Description under cut
A moodboard divided in two parts. On the upper section, a photograph a sea pool with swelling tide and seaweeds (left), a photograph of a seaside city at sunset with domes and towers in relief, along with flying seagull (centre), photograph of a group of seagulls.
On the lower section, golden light on rippling water (left), a group of white anemonae on black background (centre), rocky seashore with mossy stones (right).
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fivedayslater · 11 months
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Part 11: Under the pool table
Dinner and a Murder: A Mr. Prince mystery master post
Sanji drops to his knees and crawls under the pool table to retrieve the paper. He grabs it just as he hears a choking noise from Zoro.
“What?” Sanji asks as he shimmies his way back out from under the table, glancing curiously over his shoulder at Zoro, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he says, his face red as his eye darts from Sanji’s face to his rear still sticking out, “Just admiring the view.”
It’s Sanji’s turn to blush, his leg striking out in his embarrassment to kick him hard in the shin.
“Crass mossy shithead,” he mutters as he stands up and smooths the paper out on the pool table, “Learn some fucking manners.”
“You’re the one crawling around with your ass in the air,” Zoro says as he comes up behind him, then whispers in his ear, “And I can do manners when I need to, Mr. Prince.”
Sanji shivers at his tone, but quickly turns his attention back to the paper.
It’s a note, or the beginnings of one. The handwriting is rough and almost illegible, and most of the words – including the name of the recipient – are scribbled out, but there are a few key parts that Sanji can make out:
I know your secret…$500 million…or else…
“It’s a blackmail note,” he realizes with a gasp, “Or a rough draft for one.”
“Rough is right,” Zoro frowns at the paper, his brow furrowed, “I can barely read it. Are you sure?”
“I can’t be positive, since it’s incomplete,” Sanji says as he points out the legible bits, “But secrets, money, and threats usually add up to blackmail.”
“Huh,” he purses his lips, then shrugs and finishes his drink, “Well, you’d know better than me.”
He wanders back to the liquor cabinet for a refill as Sanji ponders the letter.
Try as he may, he can’t glean anything else from it on context alone. Like most blackmail notes, it’s unsigned, and the handwriting is unfamiliar to him, mostly devolving into scribbles save for the few bits he can read. The paper itself is normal printer paper that can be found almost anywhere, although there’s a brown stain in the corner that smells a bit like stale coffee.
“Aren’t most blackmail notes made from, like, newspaper cutouts?” Zoro says. He has drifted over to the bookcase while Sanji examines the letter, and is pulling things off of it at random, “That’s what they do on TV.”
“This isn’t TV, this is real life,” Sanji sighs as he flips it over, but the back of the note reveals no new information about who wrote it or who it was for, “And even if that is the end goal, you still need to draft the letter first.”
He turns to Zoro, “Do you know if this has anything to do with Ace?”
“Hm?” Zoro looks up from the book he’s flipping through, “What?”
Sanji taps the note, “The blackmail note. Do you know if Ace was being blackmailed, or if he was doing the blackmailing?”
Zoro’s eye narrows, “He wasn’t blackmailing anyone, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“More like outright stating, but okay,” he holds his hands up, “I don’t mean to speak ill of Ace, but if this has anything to do with his death, then I need to know.”
“Ace isn’t like that…wasn’t like that,” Zoro sighs, his eye sliding shut as he leans against the windowsill, “Even if he did know some secret about someone, he’d never take advantage of them like that.”
“Okay,” Sanji nods, feeling a little guilty about accusing Ace of blackmail now, even if it is all in the course of investigating, “Do you know if he was being blackmailed?”
“No,” Zoro’s frown pinches his face as he opens his eye, “I don’t know. We haven’t…exactly kept in touch. Since I left.”
“I see,” Sanji sighs as he lights a cigarette, taking a deep hit from it as he mulls over the problem.
“Luffy would know,” Zoro suggests as he turns back to the book, “He and Ace always tell each other everything. I don’t think they can keep secrets from each other.”
Sanji hums as he mulls it over, tapping the ash off his cigarette into the ashtray.
“That’s a pretty good idea,” he concludes, making Zoro visibly perk up. Sanji blushes at the beaming smile he gives him, so he cuts it with, “You know, for a Mosshead.”
“I’ll take it,” Zoro laughs as he comes back to Sanji’s side, “Also, if you’re looking for motives, how’s this for one?”
Sanji’s heartbeat spikes when Zoro presses up against his side and slides the book over to him. He manages to pull his focus away from just how warm he feels and instead looks at what it is he’s trying to show him.
It’s a ledger, filled with large numbers and small neat handwriting. In one column he can clearly read everyone’s name, Luffy, Ace, Zoro, Usopp, Law, and the large amounts of pluses and minuses across the rest of the rows.
“What is this?” Sanji asks, intrigued by the find as he flips a page to find more of the same.
“Nami’s debt ledger,” Zoro laughs, his finger tracing over his own row, “I figured she was just keeping track in her head, I didn’t know she actually had it written down.”
Sanji stares at him, incredulous, “You’re in debt and you don’t know by how much?”
“Of course I know,” he rolls his eye, “But it’s just numbers. Any idiot can keep track of numbers. You don’t have to write them down.”
Sanji briefly wonders just how good with numbers Zoro must be to say that, but is pulled back to his previous statement, “You said there was a motive in here.”
“Oh, yeah, maybe?” He scratches his cheek, then flips to the back of the book where the final totals are.
Sanji’s eyes go wide at the amount of zeros he sees, “What the hell, you all owe Nami that much?”
“It’s fine,” he shrugs, “Most of us just pay her back with favors, but here.”
His finger lands on the last two rows, Usopp’s and Law’s, and the cigarette almost falls out of his mouth, “What the shit…is that in the billions?”
“Law’s is, Usopp’s is just under,” he shrugs as if this is nothing, “I know Usopp is paying her back through royalties on his inventions.”
“And he’s the only other person who couldn’t have killed Ace,” Sanji reminds him, rolling his cigarette around his lips, “But what does Ace’s murder have to do with Law’s debt?”
“Thing is, I’m not sure how Law is paying Nami back,” his gaze goes back to the ledger, “This kind of money…he might have gotten desperate.”
“But how would killing Ace have gotten him out of debt?” Sanji muses, then gasps when he thinks he’s got it, “You’re not saying Law was paid to kill him?”
“I don’t know, it’s just a thought,” he shrugs, his gaze darting away, “But I do know that someone had it out for Ace. His accident proves it.”
Sanji hums as he takes that in. Zoro would know the particulars of Ace’s accident better than him, but the whole thing did smell of a set up. Perhaps the hitman angle is not the most farfetched idea out there.
“Two thoughts right in a row,” Sanji grins around his cigarette, “I guess you’re more than just a pretty face too.”
“Shut up,” he says with a growl, but the faint blush on his cheeks speaks volumes.
“So,” Zoro turns back to him, “What do you want to do?”
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anulithots · 8 months
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Okie. So I can't really tell the Land of the Fallen Fairies like a normal novel. I need pictures and to tell it in short thought bursts. I need it to feel like something nestled between two mossy hills, a discovery of sorts. Discovered. I need it to feel like a scrapbook. I need it to feel like notes scribbled in the margins of something more important. I need it to feel like a windchime swaying in the wind. I need it to feel like those magic worlds that were my life, before and now, because that's what this was to me for years now. I'm not sure if I can convey all that, but I'll attempt to the best of my ability.
What I ask of you is a question: Format?
Does this make any sense?
Any reblogs and/or feedback would be appreciated. This "I'm never satisfied and I need something magical and I can't really explain what I need this to be" sort of feeling has been HAUNTING ME.
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Anura or Hekets feasting lands
Following up with the theme of the lands of old faith, every land undergone some changes, including Anura.
Landscape and nature
The landscape is mostly just valleys and lowlands, filled with mud, rocks and lakes. Much less wood than in Darkwood, but still some big trees can be found, like beautiful mossy oaks.
Main plant type is fungi and any root plants like mandrake and carrots. Stronger plants like pumpkins can be found seasonally.
All year round it's humid in Anura, with hot summers and warm winters. Thanks to its warm and humid nature Anura is also the only producer of sugarcane, a well sought after good in the lands.
Not all animal types can manage to live in these lands, so the vast majority of its inhabitants are amphibians.
Culture and economy
Cannibalism is seen as normal in these lands, as Heket often has her anger outbursts and punishes her people with famine, resulting in a lack of food. People usually refrain from eating their exact species, because of safety concerns.
Anura is very child based. Here the wellbeing of kids is more important than that of adults. Often children get sent to the temple to be taken care of, as not taking care of your child is one of the worst offences in Anura.
Like in most lands of old faith, sheep were exterminated here. People are also allowed to hunt cats for sport, as they are seen as traitors by nature, and Heket bears a special kind of hatred towards them.
In Anura music is the main form of worship, as Heket was one who loved to sing. Now singing is forbidden but instruments are still very important in their culture.
Fast is the most important ritual. It can grant the followers prolonged life if done right during the right moment.
Due to the humidity there is not a lot of writing in Anura. Most important information is either scribbled with a sharp object into wood or stone.
part 1
part 3
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mossymultiverse · 25 days
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mossy log #15
yall would not BELIEVE the month(s) ive had. ....ok actually yeah you probably would,
k so. broke a bone for the first time. that was fun. ....is it weird that that's only mostly sarcastic? ....anyway, im not gonna tell yall a whole bunch about what happened because i Do Not Feel Like It (sorry, maybe if u ask me more i'll elaborate? but rn its just a bunch of scribbles that i dont feel like untangling), but uhh. basically ther was a landslide, and i broke a leg, and got a whole buncha other more minor injuries, and the hospital staff were absolutely lovely and i do feel kinda bad for scaring them so much. but also. it was mostly not my fault. ....it also wasnt their faults, it was just unfortunate circumstances.
anyway! so, because of that, i learned how to use crutches, and learned a lot more about hospitals and the like. i prolly shoulda kept yall up to date WHILE i was recovering, but, uh, in my defense, i forgor. mainly because i was a bit busy with.... well, recovering. and trying to trick my brain into Not trying to get me tf outta there.
i also miiiighta gone into a bit of a Trance, probably to heal? gave the staff a right ol scare with that, whoops. shoutout to my brain for. basically everything, actually.
so anyway, now that i have fully recovered, remembered that this blog exists now, and also made sure to properly connect it (it should be fine, but yknow, if anythin weird happens just assume it's me trying to fix some timeline bs. nonlinearity can be wonderful! it can also suck So bad.), uhhhh im goin back to (hopefully) travelling more! small, quick hops, probably not gonna stay in any one place too long. ive been a bit stir crazy. ....huh, i remember that story. that was fucked up. ....yknow, i havent been there in a while. maybe.... well, who knows! right now im chillin with my bois, zuko was delighted to see me again, and it turns out tee is Very good at turning up places he shouldnt, so that's exciting. that being said, i dont plan on staying here more than a week, and then it's off to another place! and then another and another! and so on!
now, let's see if i remember any of my tags.... /lh
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niennawept · 5 months
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Mablung of Doriath & Niënor | 300 words | rating: T
A chance meeting that diverts the stream of fate.
Written in response to this fantastic piece of art by @searchingforserendipity25 for the @fall-for-tolkien event, Scribbles & Drabbles.
“My lady?” He approached her with great care. His footfalls made no sound on the mossy shore of the river. The loamy earth gave way under his feet, sinking with each unsteady stride, but Mablung felt off-balance before he’d moved.
Now on AO3
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eternal-moss · 1 year
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Genscribbles; Xinyan my love ft Kaveh and the fish of all time
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boizdocry · 6 months
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Nnoitra scribbles - Afterlife AU
Basically, Nnoitra ejected into real world, kinda Sengoku period.
Will scribble down both by commenting this post and reposting with the addition of new snippets here and there - some SFW, some other not.
Unfortunately, I'll release the most part in Italian, since I don't feel confident enough to write them directely in English.
Hope that IA Bing and Google Translate might help, I know there is lot of Nnoitra fans out there.
Also, YT good stuff to hear while you read - namely, Secret Stairways' "What Lies Beyond the Door". Even if you want to jump over my scraps of fanfic, give the song a try, you'll thank me later.
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Lei, Mori, non aveva paura: non perché fosse coraggiosa in modo particolare e più di altre giovani donne della sua età ma, più semplicemente, perché viveva con tanto poco ed in tale isolamento, che tutto quel che la preoccupava erano il freddo, le intemperie e le bestie selvagge. Gli uomini la impensierivano assai meno: li vedeva di rado e, per lo più, quando si recava al mercato del più vicino villaggio per vendere oggetti intrecciati: ceste, sporte, stuoie, gioiellini fatti con corteccia e sassolini pescati dai torrenti che traversavano la foresta, oppure con le canne ed i vinchi che coglieva in riva al fiume.
La ragazza si era incamminata presto, quella mattina, chiudendo la porta della casupola con una sorta di lucchetto di corda e canniccio intrecciati.
Non si trattava di una serratura efficace: chiunque avrebbe potuto entrare facilmente, tagliando il laccio e sfondando il sottile pannello di legno che costituiva l'uscio della sua umile abitazione. Tuttavia, la ragazza - Mori, non aveva altro nome - non temeva intrusi: era l'unico essere umano che vivesse in quella foresta ed i suoi simili badavano a tenersene alla larga per non incorrere nello sdegno degli spiriti.
Dopo aver fatto un buon tratto di strada, quando si trovava ormai in una radura dove era solita sostare un poco prima di riprendere il cammino verso il torrente, dovette trattenere un grido di stupore alla vista di qualcosa che la colse del tutto alla sprovvista.
Quel giorno, un fresco e dorato giorno di settembre, era diretta per l'appunto al fiume e portava con sé, in una sporta di sua fabbricazione, un po' di panni da lavare e una coperta da rinfrescare prima che giungessero i primi freddi. Inoltre, era intenzionata a pescare qualche tinca da mettere in salamoia per l'inverno.
Poi, come sempre, si sarebbe data da fare a cogliere giunchi da disseccare e che le sarebbero tornati utili per i mesi più rigidi: con quelli meno solidi e flessuosi avrebbe foderato gli spifferi della sua casetta, mentre i migliori erano destinati alla creazione di oggetti che Mori barattava in cambio di sale, tessuti e olio per lampade.
A dire il vero la radura, che definire tale era eccessivamente generoso, non era più che un cerchio dal diametro di quasi cinque piedi, circondato da tre alberi dal tronco così ampio che Mori non sarebbe riuscita a circondarne uno con entrambe le braccia.
Si trattava, tuttavia, di splendide querce, più antiche della foresta stessa, tra le cui robuste radici l'erba cresceva più rada ma di un verde tenero e splendente. La luce filtrava a stento tra le meravigliose e folte chiome di quei vecchi giganti, disegnando mobili macchie di azzurro e di oro che il giuoco del vento dissolveva e ricomponeva senza sosta.
Tra quelle radici giaceva a terra un uomo - il che, già di per sé, costituiva un accadimento straordinario; ma la sua eccezionale presenza non era l'unica cosa che meravigliasse Mori.
La ragazza, addossatasi al tronco d'una quercia, si protese ad osservarlo meglio: anche il suo aspetto era fuori del comune... Fuori del comune, s'intende, per quel che la ragazza era abituata a conoscere degli altri umani nella regione.
Infatti, Mori sapeva di non appartenere allo stesso popolo con il quale, negli anni, si era abituata a commerciare: era più alta e forte di loro, aveva capelli chiari e mossi ed occhi verdi mentre loro erano minuti, eleganti, i capelli corvini perfettamente lisci.
Chiamavano il loro paese Ni-hon-gou e nutrivano, per chi appariva così diverso da loro, un misto di timore, sospetto e fascinazione.
Mori aveva imparato a proprie spese come misurarsi con il turbamento che suscitava negli altri; a loro volta, quelli che abitavano i villaggi circonvicini avevano appreso a fidarsi di lei e perfino ad ignorare la sua carnagione rosea e i suoi tratti esotici.
Tuttavia, quando alle fiere capitava qualche straniero, Mori cercava di starsene in disparte e non suscitare scandalo.
L'uomo che adesso giaceva a terra davanti a lei era simile agli abitanti del Ni-hon-gou per i tratti fini ed appuntiti e per la capigliatura d'un color nero lucido e freddo; le sue spalle, però, erano larghe quasi il doppio di quelle di Mori, che era già piuttosto robusta rispetto alla gente comune.
Mori si avvicinò ancora, troppo sorpresa ed incuriosita per tenere in considerazione le più basilari regole di prudenza: era una fortuna, in effetti, che l'uomo sembrasse profondamente assopito.
Lo guardò meglio: poteva avere trent'anni, un'età che, per quel che Mori sapeva di sé, era di almeno dieci anni più avanzata della sua. Anche riverso sul rado prato che, in contrasto con il terreo pallore della sua pelle, sembrava d'un verde violento, si capiva bene che doveva essere altissimo: con il suo grande corpo riempiva quasi interamente la lunghezza della radura.
Era magrissimo, al punto che Mori si sentì stringere il cuore all'idea della fame che doveva aver patito per essere tanto ossuto.
Il viso, già lungo, ed ancor più per la magrezza che lo rendeva scavato aveva tratti duri, sdegnosi, una bocca lunga dalle labbra sottili ed esangui. Non sembrava una bocca gentile, Mori sapeva di non sbagliarsi facilmente in questo genere di giudizi, ma di certo pareva la bocca di una persona disabituata a sorridere per qualcosa he lo rendesse sinceramente felice.
Gli occhi, a mandorla, erano strettamente serrati e ombreggiati da lunghe ciglia nere che ricadevano sulle profonde incavature delle occhiaie, illividite per il pallore. I capelli, lunghi e sottili, gli ricadevano scompostamente sulle spalle e attorno al capo reclinato: erano l'unica cosa autenticamente bella di quella fisionomia, per il resto acuminata fino ad avere qualcosa di esasperato, selvaggio.
Forse perché così cereo e smagrito, sembrava preda di una terribile spossatezza; lungo il torace, nudo, si vedeva chiaramente una lunga cicatrice simile alla traccia che avrebbero potuto lasciarvi un fendente, una frustata o un fulmine.
Quella cicatrice era paonazza, ma solo al centro: doveva essersi rimarginata molto velocemente e, sebbene fosse chiaro che la ferita doveva essere stata grave, nei suoi anni di vita solitaria nel cuore d'una foresta Mori aveva dovuto imparare abbastanza di medicina da giudicarla ben ristabilita.
Mentre meditava con rammarico sull'irreversibilità di quella deturpazione, notò che le mani dello sconosciuto - grandi, nodose e dalle dita molto lunghe, al punto da somigliare alle zampe d'uno strano predatore - tremavano.
A ben vedere, l'uomo tremava tutto.
Si affrettò a gettare la coperta addosso al giovane, poi, ritrattasi dietro l'albero, sollevata che lo sconosciuto dormisse tanto saporitamente da non accorgersi della sua presenza ma anche molto inquieta all'idea che potesse svegliarsi di lì a poco, scivolò via.
Mori credette di comprendere che lo straniero doveva avere freddo e pensò a quanto freddo lei stessa aveva patito negli anni.
Erano soli, in quella foresta: nessun altro viandante sarebbe passato di là e prestato soccorso allo sconosciuto.
Dubbiosa, cacciò la mano nella cesta e tastò la coperta.
Le dispiaceva separarsene con così poco anticipo rispetto ai primi freddi, ma non le rincresceva di meno vedere un suo simile debole e infreddolito: quante volte aveva rischiato di morire di polmonite, e quanto le sarebbe stato di conforto, oltre che di utilità, poter contare sulla compassione di qualche brava persona che potesse soccorrerla?
Sfortunatamente, Mori era sola da moltissimi anni e aveva dovuto sempre cercare di cavarsela da sola ma ricordava con emozione il tempo in cui suo padre era stato con lei e l'aveva protetta.
Era bello ricevere calore e tenerezza senza dover nulla in cambio e, per quanto le riuscisse duro pensare a uno sconosciuto prima che a sé stessa, sentiva che le sarebbe pesato passare oltre ed abbandonarlo al suo destino.
In fondo, ragionò con lo spirito pratico che l'aveva sempre sostenuta, c'era ancora un mercato da fare, di lì a pochi giorni: avrebbe preso un po' meno sale e una pezza di tessuto in più per rimpiazzare quella coperta.
E doveva mettersi di buona lena a raccattare più giunchi: se avesse potuto vendere qualche cesta in più, chissà!...
C'era solo da augurarsi che non si trattasse di qualcuno dal quale aspettarsi del male, pensò mentre, in salvo dietro a una fitta macchia di felci, affrettava il passo e prendeva poi a correre per mettere distanza tra sé e la radura. Del resto, era fiduciosa: la sua casa era ben nascosta. Al ritorno, poi, avrebbe percorso una strada diversa e più ampia, in modo che le digressioni la allontanassero ulteriormente da ogni possibile pericolo.
Resistette all'impulso di voltarsi a guardare verso la radura o tendere l'orecchio ai suoni della foresta ed ignorò anche il vago turbamento che l'immagine dell'uomo nudo e inerme tra i ciuffi di trifoglio risvegliava in lei.
Perciò, non si accorse che lo straniero si era mosso e aveva mormorato qualcosa in una lingua sconosciuta, ma in un tono che anche Mori avrebbe ben compreso.
Un tono di collera, sofferenza e disprezzo.
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gh0stlymoth · 2 years
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V1 jmart for the kis meme 🥺👉👈?
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[ID: Digital drawing of Jon and Martin. They are standing together in a rainy, foggy place. Jon has his right hand on Martin's face, cupping it and is looking at him with a pleading expression, mouth open, saying something. Martin has his head turned so that his face isn't visible, and he stands with a bit of a slumped posture. Fog is swirling around them, and in some places, Martin himself is becoming the fog, his body seemingly starting to fade. Jon is a slim british indian person with dark medium brown skin, long wavy hair and scars across their face and hands. He is wearing a no-descript jumper and an acering on his right hand. Martin a fat british polish man with pale skin and short white curly hair. He is wearing a pink dress shirt and a dark blue sweater vest. The background is an icy blue with a fog like texture. End ID]
Lost in the fog.
Also because this is not really in the spirit of the drawing prompts (aka this is not a kiss lol), have a bonus sketch~
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[ID: very sketchy drawing of Jon and martin kissing, surrounded by fog swirling around them. Jon is holding Martins face with his right hand. End ID]
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fruit-salad-ship · 2 years
Text
Grey decides he wants to learn Piano, he's got these huge hands that are pretty dexterous, so why not right?
Plum is over the moon, someone to help and practice with, sure trumpet is a little different, but she can help him learn how to read sheet music.
The pair practice a couple times a week together, and every time, they get a little more functional, start to come together.
Peach in her constantly tired, stressed out state, finds great comfort in sitting close by, watching the pair muddle through songs. Grey laughs when he makes mistakes, but ever gives up, and Plum has endless patience for him, despite being leagues ahead in terms of skill.
It's weirdly beautiful, watching them together in the golden hours filling the house with songs. Peach isn't a musician, not a musical bone in her body, but she can't help but rough sketch the pair on a form she was suppose to be filling out while curled up on the sofa close by, some scribbly biro thing, it's all she's got to hand.
Weeks later, Grey cannot find her, asks Plum if she's seen the other professor, both clueless. He takes a final lap of the island, before realising where she must have gone, slipping quietly into the north.
A while passes, he's spotted the mossy roof of a small shack, not far from the fences, overgrown so much so, the brick work is almost completely hidden. and there she is, hidden away in her painters cabin, asleep on a tatty old couch, Val on her chest. Grey can't help but look over the latest piece, and finds it oddly familiar. One person sitting at a piano, another standing pointing at the sheets lined up ahead, vivid warm lighting. sure the forms are kind of ambiguous, but he knows exactly what she was referencing. He leaves quietly, let her get some rest, grinning all the way back to his lab.
His angry little partner is going soft and he loves it, maybe she'll never show anyone that painting, she hides so many of them away, but perhaps one day it'll surface, and he can openly adore her for it. Hell, maybe even Plum will get to know about the truth of Hugh Jass one day.
He looks forward to it.
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geewintg · 2 years
Text
Slight Touches, Little Visits
Fandom: Genshin Impact Ship: Cyno x Tighnari Warning: Written during 3.0 update
The winds churned the dewy leaves. The golden wisps of sunlight filtered by the thick canopy of the forest danced in pleasant burble on his skin. The quiet rush of water down the stream.
With one knee kissing the mossy earth, he had his notebook out, scribbling away to his heart's content about the effects of this dull brown mushroom attached to the trees. It has some sort of ethereal blue glow that could be passed off during the day but illuminates everything at night. No doubt it would attract nearby adventurers who see it or anyone who has an awful taste of pleasure behind dangerous obliviousness. He could already imagine a body lying around here somewhere knocked out.
He withheld the urge to roll his eyes and sigh out of helpless annoyance. They just wouldn't stop with just a warning sign, huh?
God, he couldn't even fathom how these imbeciles grew up to be illiterate. A measly amount of even common sense will do. It has weird colors, DO NOT EAT. But it seems that they committed a heinous crime against Celestia for the dendro archon to even deny them such a simple thing.
His ears twitched. A soft whisper of breeze tickled the soft spot of his ear.
Faint crunches of sharp-razor grass in the distance. Away from everyone.
It seems no one noticed him yet. Just like the previous visits. The figure stopped just at top of a hill where lush greens hid his anonymous figure. He only seems to be observing. Just like always.
Tighnari snorted a soft 'heh' as he twirled the pen around before placing it back in his garbs.
Does the person really think he was truly anonymous? They should have known better. Tighnari hears everything, what goes on, what comes out, every whisper of the trees, every bristle of the birds.
As much as he likes to mock them, he had to admit it was endearing to know he would go to such lengths to check up on the child with their busy schedule.
He pushed himself to stand. Fixing his little pouch tied on his belt, he started trekking down to meet the dirty pathway. The way down was nothing but uneventful. The wildlife is no danger to passing folks unless they decided to form an interspecies communication.
After parrying a few leaves away from his face, Gandharva Ville finally came into view.
Tighnari wiped a sweat off his brow. It's not hot in the forest, but it's definitely humid. It contrasted the cold water of the river that felt like mint on the skin.
As he set one foot forward on the elevated terrain, his gaze lingered on always the same place behind the lush bush with the two palm trees. But of course, it was empty as always.
As usual, they left before they could get discovered.
It went like that for half a year.
As he followed the curve of his path, he once again came upon the usual spot his eyes would linger. There, he saw the shadow of a hooded person he did not expect to see. Although he knew they were here, it was always that they would leave immediately before being seen. Not this time, he supposed.
"Hmph, if it isn't the General... What might have this humble ville made you come all this way? As far as I remember, all of my actions are under legal basis." Tighnari had his arms crossed, his tail swished as he swayed from one side with the intent to mock him.
The shadow flinched. Certainly, he wasn’t expecting anyone. “Just Cyno.”
His voice was somewhat… down? Tighnari couldn’t put the right term in it. But it’s certainly not his usual demeanor when out of duty.
“I’m not here for an official visit.”
“Huh, not throwing in one of your punches during your greetings? That’s odd.”
Cyno threw him a side glance. One where he saw disbelief and shock. That sly…!
The fennec pulls this act when he’s not in the mood. Seriously? Unbelievable…
A small smile cracked his lips. He snorted. “Do you know why there was a lone wolf?”
The smile mirrored on Tighnari’s expression dropped. With an unamused tone, he replied, “You already told me that joke. It doesn’t have that humor taste as your tried to put it.”
“No, no, this is another one.”
But the botanist was already marching down towards his little cabin, not giving it a time of his day. Cyno already gave a fair share amount of jokes and most of them were… unsuccessful. No doubt he’ll try to explain it once again and by the time he’s done, the sun was already long gone and they’d be out in the cold to freeze.
“You know, the doors in my cabin are always open. I’m quite offended you would rather sit behind that tree when I tried to make it feel a lot more accommodating in here,” Tighnari commented with a fake disappointed frown as he set his bow down on his perch while the general took a moment of hesitation before entering. If it was anyone else, they would have taken it as a serious comment, rather than just a sarcastic joke.
But instead of replying, Cyno seems to be preoccupied with something else. He was looking left and right before pulling his hood further to hide his face.
Tighnari placed a hand on his hips. “That’s no use. No one’s going to see you up here and it’s already dark. If you’re looking for her, she’s already in her cabin.”
That made Cyno whip his head in his direction in surprise.
The other laughed with smug, seeing his spooked face. “Who do you think I am? Not much of a forest watcher if I didn’t notice, idiot.”
Cyno visibly relaxed as he crossed the threshold, the bright light bathing them both in comfort from the wild. And away from prying eyes.
As Tighnari removed the trinkets on his clothing, Cyno set down his staff beside his bow. He made himself comfortable when he sat down on the wooden floor cushioned with carpet. With a sigh, he rested his arm on his knee.
Tighnari pulled the fingertips of his gloves when the other spoke, “Do you know why I was alone?”
“Why?”
“Because I’m supposed to be a lone wolf.” Tighnari’s hand stopped. His face twisted in a way that Cyno had never seen before as he turned to look at him. It was written all over his face. At any moment, he would have smacked him if he was near him. He was squeezing his glove so hard that he would have thought the botanist would actually throw it at him.
“Get it? Since—!” The gloved actually smacked him in the face.
The botanist was now donned in his first layer garment. With only one arm exposed. As for the reason? It wasn’t for fashion’s sake, more like when he needs to apply pastes on his skin to test their effects.
“Okay, you might already know the first reason but, did you know about the second reason why?” Cyno was already stifling his laughter to himself, partially because of the face he witnessed a while ago. “Because wolves hide when they’re hunting.”
Tighnari rolled his eyes with his back turned to Cyno while he tries to cook them dinner.
“Not funny? Huh, I thought it was when it all connected in my head,” he mumbled in thought. “And it was in series too.”
Tighnari snorted, finding how his jokes were so unamusing that it made it funny. Ironic.
“Oh, so it was funny. You’re just trying to hide it.” Cyno smirked, crossing his arms. “Okay, I’ll add that to my successful ones.”
Oh, gods. Tighnari threw his head back in kempt frustration. No matter how much he said it’s not, he doesn’t believe it. What’s the use of telling it then? For now, he’ll just let him believe that. It seems to have set him up in a good mood.
Placing down the pot of soup on the dining table, Cyno was the one who set their bowls while the other returned to the kitchen to take the grilled fish off the counter. With sliced fruits he set aside a while ago, he inserted them into the fish’s stick. The leftover slices were put into a bowl and brought to the table.
Tighnari’s ears twitched. He could clearly hear the quiet gurgles of the stream, the cricket noises behind the leaves, and the sounds of evolved elemental fauna, now that everyone went to bed.
He didn’t notice how intensely he was focusing on the sounds until Cyno snapped him out.
“Something wrong?”
Bewildered, he shook his head. “Ah, no, just meditating.”
He quirked a brow. “In the middle of dinner?”
 “I hear all sorts of sounds when it’s quiet. I told you, it gets a little overbearing when everyone talks all at once.”
Cyno glanced on top of his head. Two large green ears. They were drawn back as the botanist took a sip of his soup. He noticed… To think, they were more expressive than his face. It seems like he’s really enjoying his mushroom soup so much that his ears were doing slight flapping motions.
It would be a lie to say he hadn’t thought of touching it once. Cyno has one, although on his hood. It was just fashion sense, rather than the real deal.
He snapped out of his reverie as the botanist stood up to reach at the jar on his far side. Knowing he was nearer, he took it and handed it to him. But the familiar cover made him perk up.
Tighnari poured a portion on the bowl of sliced fruits and dandily popped it in his mouth. He moaned in delight.
“That’s…”
“It tasted mellow. The desert does grow some unique fauna. I wish I could have gone there myself but… with my biological constitution, I doubt I’ll be able to withstand the heat,” he shrugged. The last time he went, he fainted. As much as he used to be a part of a great desert race, that was long gone in the past.
“If you love it so much, then maybe another gift with an anonymous letter will show up on your table,” Cyno playfully smiled.
“Perhaps it will.”
-:-
“It’s pretty late, are you sure you’ll be heading out?” A worried Tighnari asked as the matra prepared to leave.
“Would you rather have me sleep here then?” he jokingly said.
“You can have it. You’re probably tired from the trip. Besides, I’ll be staying up to study what other effects of this mushroom I stumbled across.” The botanist dismissively waved off his hand as his focus was primarily set on the fungi he plucked in his gloved hands. “And I wouldn’t want the other forest watchers to see your wasted body on a random ditch. That would be pretty humiliating for the general mahamatra. Even though I doubt you’d be lacking brain cells to think that eating a random glowing plant is a good idea.”
Cyno stifled his laughter. “You could have just told me I can sleep here.”
He waved his hand again disinterestedly. “Just make yourself comfortable.”
“If you insist then don’t mind if I will.” Cyno leaned his staff once again on the wall and threw himself on the bed with two hands behind his head.
“Oh, you can turn the lights off if you want. I won’t mind,” he added.
Cyno stared at his back. His tail was sticking out behind the chair. It was tempting to touch. He wondered how soft it would feel like since he saw Tighnari really liked to groom his tail so much. But he closed his eyes and kept his hands to himself.
It would be very intruding to touch someone suddenly without consent. Tighnari takes great pride in taking care of it. He even went so far as to make a waterproof oil for it. Although he felt like the other wouldn’t mind if he asked, it’s just that… it would feel weird.
Cyno did not realize how his tiredness caught up and finally fell asleep. His rhythmic breathing rolled therapeutic to Tighnari’s ears as he knows he could finally focus on his work until daybreak.
Writer’s Note: It’s that point that came down here. I am deprived at 1am in the morning trying to scour the internet for more. That’s how bad it is. I’ll probably update it here
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