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glitterberry · 6 months
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Obiyuki Week | Day 6 Heroic Deeds of Valor to Win the Lady’s Heart (Free Day) Themes: Adventure, Hard Work, Worthiness; Green
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Announcing: Obiyuki Week 2022
Welcome back one and all to our seventh annual Obiyuki Week! This year we decided to pay homage to the very first Obiyuki Week’s theme:
Fairy Tales
Each day will have a fairy tale as its theme, but we will also list the ATU Tale Type, plus a few other related tales. But we are not expecting just AUs for this ship week! Each prompt will also have themes listed from the story (Disguise, True Love, etc) that can be used to inspire works or continue existing ones! All prompts are considered guidelines, so don’t feel constrained by the themes or fairy tales that we give-- this ship week is open to all Obiyuki works!
Day 1: Beauty and the Beast
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ATU Tale Type 425: Cupid & Psyche; East of the Sun, West of the Moon; Tam Lin
Themes: Kindness, Night, Curse; Purple
Day 2: The Mermaid/Selkie Wife
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ATU Tale Type 4080: Sealskin, The Swan Maiden, Jorinde and Joringel
Themes: Shapeshifter, Silence, Home; Green
Day 3: Rumpelstiltskin
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ATU Tale Type 500: Duffy and the Devil, King Olaf and the Giant, A Witch as Werewolf
Themes: True Name, Bargains, Betrayal; Gold
Day 4: Snow White (Free Day)
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ATU Tale Type 709: Gold-Tree and Silver-Tree; Sleeping Beauty; Maria, the Wicked Stepmother, and the Seven Robbers
Themes: Innocence, True Love’s Kiss, Found Family; Red
Day 5: Koschei the Deathless
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ATU Tale Type 302: Crystal Mountain, Jack and the Beanstalk, Bluebeard
Themes: Secrets, Forbidden, Rescue; Black
Day 6: Puss in Boots
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ATU Tale Type 545: Squire Peter, Andres the Trapper, The Weaver
Themes: Adventure, Disguise, Promotion; Orange
Day 7: Cinderella
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ATU Tale Type 510: The Baba Yaga; The Poor Turkey Girl; Fair, Brown and Trembling
Themes: Hard Work, Magic, Transformation; Blue
Dates: September 18th-24th Tag: #obiyukiweek22
[Guidelines beneath cut]
Guidelines:
All work must be your own (eg. no plagiarizing other sources, tracing, pose stealing, etc)
The main pairing is Obi x Shirayuki
Must follow the day’s prompt, however loosely
Must be tagged #obiyukiweek22 within the first five tags
With Tumblr’s tagging system on the fritz, please also @ snowwhite-andtheknight in your entry
Please label with the day’s number!
All NSFW content must be tagged and under a Read More!
You may submit multiple entries for each day!
Be nice
Play hard
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sabraeal · 6 months
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A Fire's Light From Far Away
[Read on AO3]
Obiyukiweek 2023, Day 5: Woo
It was on four legs that Obi had run to Sereg, and it was on four that he left it, the ever-night sky bright with its new constellations. Not the ones his mistress has taught him— the hunter with his shield and sword aloft, the vain queen turned on her head, the two plows that carving Boann’s furrow through the stars. None of those hang in this night, so new that the air still smells of smoke and steel, beeswax and lethe but a fading memory.
But his hound nose scents it still, strong enough that he could follow it around in circles, spiraling closer and closer to where the enemy of his master’s master laid broken on the castle floor, cursing the day that the Wisteria line dropped from its branch. He’ll be taken soon, away from this knowe that only savors faintly of honey and deep into one steeped in it, forced to submit to a punishment fitting his crimes. What His Majesty will see fit to inflict him, only the gods can say; the aes sidhe are hard to kill as a rule, and the daoine harder still, but to revolt against a liege like this, against the high king himself—
Ah, well. It’s a good thing it’s not him who must swing that axe. Or pluck the bough from the rowan tree or whatever else kind of torture these half-gods can devise. No, his only duty is to his mistress, and it is to her that he races beneath this strange sky.
Beneath his fur, the wound itches. A four inch gouge torn into his side, not by iron or steel but by tooth alone. A glancing blow from a grinning mouth, a message writ deep in his skin. A man more mortal than he would not have weathered well, but copper had flooded his mouth and knit it true, and a few weeks care and rest had seen it healed, better than new. Save for the scar, of course, but he had not just been teasing when he told Sir that lasses loved a man with a little character carved into him.
Most did, at least. His mistress…well, she’d like the way it healed more.
*
What took days on the journey to takes mere hours from. The knowe’s shadows no longer resist his call, folding over his fur like a well-missed blanket. Sereg is no small domain, but with the blessing of his master and the surety of the shadows beneath his feet, Obi crosses it with no more trouble than a sleeping child draws breath.
He only slows when he feels that first tug of the veil on his fur, tendrils of awareness curling itself deep. Miss always shivers at this stage, telling him it’s spiderwebs against her skin, but to him— to him it is a caress, a promise. A seductive song that makes his magic sing, even as his geasa squeeze tight.
It’s then that he shifts, pelt ripping along his spine, ebbing up his legs in great, heaving waves until arms and flesh are bared. There’s no pain, not to return to himself, but iron and copper floods his mouth, so thick he has to spit to dull the taste. Obi rises from his crouch, brushing the last bit of wiry fur from his trousers. There’s miles left to go, ones crossed better with four legs rather than two, but well—
Obi takes his first step and nearly tumbles into the scattering leaves below him. Haah, it’d been a long while since he’d walked the earth in man’s shape. If he was going to see his mistress, better to practice, to look like he’d been a man more often than monster these past few weeks. He’d hate to slip in front of her, to show her just what sort of beast he could become if the right hand tugged on his lead.
She’s take Master to task, for one. It brings a wolfish grin to his lips, imagining the wag of her finger, the flush on her cheeks. What a lark it would be to see his cunning girl stand before an aes sidhe and accuse him of misusing his most versatile tool, his most loyal hound.
Or it would be, before she’d turn all that fire on him, each of her words rattling the chains lashed across his body, delivering their delicious sting. The air may be cold, but oh, a warmth flushes beneath his skin, stirring parts of him best left slumbering.
Haah, and that would be before she saw the scar. Oh, how the skin between her brows would pucker and furrow, the soft touch of her fingers tracing along the straight slash across his abdomen—
His muscles there tense with delicious anticipation, heart fluttering beneath the cage of his ribs. Only a few more miles now, he knows, tucking his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. His chin lifts, eyes tracing the shimmering cowpath across the heavens. Soon, soon.
With the shine of familiar stars washing over him, Obi turns, setting himself on the path he’s always been meant to walk. To the road that will bring him to his miss.
*
“Ho there!” A squat palm raises in greeting as the gates swing open, a squatter man following behind it, a bulldog made from human parts. “Is that our Good Neighbor’s best hound trotting home?”
“Careful there, Jirou,” Obi warns as the man ambles out to meet him. “There’s no hand holding this lead. You’re liable to get bitten if you play too rough.”
“Aye, aye, I know well enough.” With a fonder smile than a beast like him deserves, one of those broad hands claps his back, warmth burning through even the heft of his jacket. “It’s good to see you, boy. You’ve been well-missed around these parts.”
His tongue tangles around the taunt he’d meant to sling from it. “Ah, me?”
Jirou squeezes his shoulder, falling into step beside him. “Aye, you, lad. Thought Hiro might well pass away from the pining. Be glad the younger lot took the third watch tonight, otherwise you’d have no hope of getting to your bed before morning.”
Ah, but it not not his bed he longs to see, not when the embers smoldering in his chest flare to flames, burning with the same intensity they have since Miss fasted their hands at dawn’s first light and drew his oath from him, since she swore with all the power in her bones, you are mine. She’s here, somewhere, among the market’s press, and he—
“All right then,” Jirou chuckles. “I can see well enough that I won’t be getting a good word from ye until it’s done. Hie ye back to your mistress then, I trust ye remember the way?”
A laugh scrapes up from the depths of his chest, singed by the blaze within. “The hills could take my eyes and ears both, and I could still find my way to her.”
The guardsman may roll his eyes, may sigh like he’s a man lost, but his mouth twitches all the say. “You young men. Of with ye already, and spare me from the embarrassment of ye lovemaking.”
There’s a protest in him, a denial worn to its familiar shape, but there’s no patience left in him to still his feet long enough to give it. Not when that fire in him burns with so singular a purpose, not just a hazy glow at his edges, as it should be, but something that reaches out to him even as he reaches toward it, a different beast entirely—
He has only a moment to ponder it, to wonder at this new shape before it pulls his attention up the road, right to where the path draws to a small crest, and atop it— ah, he would know that color red anywhere, that taste of apples that washes over his tongue, spice making his nose sting. His hand rises with his heart to great her—
“Stay there!” His muscles clamp before his ears catch the command, rooting him to the spot. Oh, how sweet it is to be stung by her in this way, for his blood to rush and bring pleasure rolling over him, head to toe. He couldn’t move even if he wanted to, but haah, with his veins humming like this, he could hardly care.
At least until he realizes how complete the command is, how easily he submitted to it— too much, even for the pleasure of it. As if the compulsion had grown stronger in his absence, as if his body missed having her will hold him. As if something had changed.
It’s not until he sees how she runs, breathless and wild, that he realizes: perhaps it isn’t him who has.
Her hands clasp around his forearms, so hard he’s surprised his bones don’t creak from the pressure. She might even leave a mark, and ah, that’s best not thought about when he can feel her heat burning through his sleeves, when she’s so close that the scent of her magic clogs his nose. It doesn’t so much brush over him as swallow whole, enveloping him as firmly as she once had. Years ago now, back when His Majesty had first sent her to Lyrias, but it seems his body has not forgotten the feel.
And yet the physical distance remains. Already this is too close; copper must flood her mouth to touch him so, a bite so bitter most flinch, but not his miss. No, she just stares at him as if she wishes she could close this space between them, as if she were a woman lost and left to thirst, and he her first glimpse of water.
“You can be at ease, my lady.” It’s too breathless for his liking, but he cannot bear to raise his voice, cannot dare to find the strength. “Your sweet prince is tucked back in his knowe, safe and sound. The Lady Kiki and Sir as well.”
He might have slapped her for how she flinches, jaw slack as her sense comes back to her. “Oh, Zen…? I…ah, good. That’s…good to hear.”
Her grip eases, though it does not remove itself. No, instead her thumbs rub where they lay against his arm’s soft underbelly, tickling the skin at his wrists.
“Miss,” he breathes, confusion turning to mist between them. “It’s late. You should be abed.”
“I couldn’t…” Her lips press together as she looks up at him, just as lost as he. “I couldn’t sleep. Not when you were coming home.”
“How did you know that I would be…?” He shakes his head. “Did Sereg send word?”
“No.” Her brow furrows so sweetly his lips tingle. “I just…knew.”
His ribbon weaves through her hair, his awareness of it throbbing with the beat of his heart. She just knew. The way he’d just known in Tanbarun, her presence so bright and obvious the moment he’d fallen through Umihebi’s knowe.
Miss sits back on her heels, staring up into his eyes with an intensity that commands him as thoroughly as he words ever have. “Welcome home, Obi.”
The warmth that floods him is nothing like her sting. His breath catches, eyes blowing wide.
“Oh!” Her gaze drops to where she holds him, hands slipping from where they rest. “Sorry, I—”
“Miss,” he manages, but there’s no words that can convey the joy that pulses through him, no action that can dispel this lightning in his body save lifting her in his arms. He spins her, giddy, laughter flinging from his lungs with abandon, and—
“Ah!” And, yikes, that’s more than a sting. “That’s a lot of pain.”
“Obi.” She struggles against him until he sets her down, but then she does not flee, oh no, she bends closer, gloves probing at his side. “Did you—?”
“Ah, Miss, just a little flesh wound.” He waves a hand. “Nothing to worry yourself about. Didn’t even tear a stitch.”
“Stitches?” Her mouth pulls into a thin line. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Now, now.” His head fly up, placating. “There’s no sheep gut still strung through me! I promise I took good care of it. Let them sew it up real nice an everything.”
“Hm.” She’s hardly convinced. “Take off your shirt.”
It’s a concerted force of will to keep his hands off his jacket, but he fights it, if only to tease, “My lady, your wish is ever my command, but surely you don’t mean to ravage me in the marketplace.”
Her gaze rakes up him like nails on flesh, and ah, maybe she does.
“Fine, keep it on until we get to the exam room,” she tells him, a small smile on her lips. “Then we’ll see just how well you’ve behaved.”
“Oh, Miss,” he hums, following after her. “I’m sure you’ll find I’ve only been the best boy.”
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claudeng80 · 1 year
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Changeling, Ch. 5
* twenty-four weeks after the leaf
Shirayuki had been right all along to be suspicious. Obi was a poisoned present and the entire matter was a conspiracy.
“Lunchtime,” Obi declared, removing the mortar from her hands as cleanly as though it had been greased and replacing it with a sandwich. Across the room, Higata nodded approvingly. She missed him and his easily evaded attempts to manage her.
“I’m not hungry,” she argued, reaching for her work. Her chair was comfortable, with the pillow Obi had found that was just the right shape to support her back, and she hadn’t planned on getting up for some time. He set the mortar beyond her reach, guarded behind him in a way she already knew she wouldn’t be able to bypass. Her joints were too sore and her balance too unreliable for wrestling. She held out her hand for it, but Obi just nodded to the sandwich.
Read the rest on AO3
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tinwhiskerpress · 8 months
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Binderary, 4 - books I messed up and had to fix.
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Revery by balfrey- this one is a Dragon Age collection. I know just about nothing about Dragon Age, so I just tried to make it look elegant.
The cover is half bound with graphite bookcloth and black and gold textured paper. The endpapers are a yellow Florentine print, and there are actually two layers of them. I had this single section Bradel binding fully complete, was admiring my work- and the textblock just fell out. Somehow the pamphlet knot had come undone and I couldn't fix it in place, so I pulled it out, resewed it, glued the knot this time, and glued it into the case with new endpapers.
The Story of Us is a collection of 2016 Obiyukiweek stories by @kaedix (not on AO3, Tumblr only). My snafu for this one actually turned into one of my favorite covers - it was originally going to be a normal half binding with the chiyogami paper and homemade bookcloth, but somehow I messed up the measurements for the paper and cut it too small.
So I printed the title on some cardstock to see how it filled the gap, and I love how it turned out. It's not exactly even if you look close, but that just means it's handmade.
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puffdragongirl · 2 years
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Burned Chapter 6 - Flinch (Northern War AU)
Written for Day 5 of Obiyukiweek 2022 (Rescue)
Please read with caution! This chapter contains graphic depictions of violence.
For as much relief as Obi’s appearance brings her, Shirayuki quickly notices something about him is… off. This is far from the first time Obi has placed himself between her and a threat. The stance as he looms before her and Ryuu is familiar - shoulders squared, feet planted wide, daggers drawn - but he is strangely rigid, all sharp lines and tension. 
Read the rest on AO3!
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Day 7: Loyalty
"For you, I ... refuse my name”
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xbreathoffreshairx · 4 years
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Let’s all appreciate this for what it is, love in its purest form.
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thelionshoarde · 5 years
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obiyuki fic - mature
been in a slump, and then i made the mistake of checking out the obiyukiweek prompts and oh ho ho guess who suddenly wrote some fucking Good Omens fusion shit for these two? jesus fuck
(but i deceived you with false virtue)
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glitterberry · 6 months
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Obiyuki Week | Day 3 Declaration of Passionate Devotion
Themes: Confessions, Heat of the Moment, Devotion; Orange
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Obiyukiweek 2023: Day 1 Round Up!
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Fanfiction
2BR/1 Bath. Fixer Upper with a Great View by @jj-carstairs Brewed With Intent, Chapter 2 by @sabraeal
Fanart/Fan edits
Day 1: Attraction by @aerie-skysinger Attraction to the Lady by @glitterberry
Playlists
Striving for Worthiness by @batgirlsay
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sabraeal · 2 years
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and all my winding roads have led me here (to you), Part 2
[Read on AO3]
Obiyukiweek 2022, Day 1: Beauty and the Beast Kindness, Night, Curse
The (Clarines) version of the song sung in this fic is this one written by @what-plant-metaphor-am-i! The second I heard it I knew it would have to be the one I used for the fic; hopefully she enjoys the raunchy Tanbarun version I made in return
I’m not much for people, Obi told her once, back before they’d known just how much coal would last a burner for a winter night, or how many miles of a sea a ship could cut across with all hands and sails unfurled. I don’t tend to stick around.
And yet, as the scholars of Lilias press around him, laughing at the flaps on his cap or plucking at the golden buttons of his coat, she realizes: he’s rarely without a crowd. In the training yard the recruits follow him like ducklings, waddling after him with wide eyes and rounder mouths; in the palace’s halls he’s always flanked by Makiri and his captains, discussing some patrol or another; and here, with her scholars, he’s the life of the party, everyone jostling elbows to come close and chuckle at the latest joke going round the guardhouse. No matter where she takes him, Obi is at the center of everything, and she--
She doesn’t know how to break through. Not the way she would have just minutes ago, slipping though with a smile and enjoying the way his arm would relax beneath her palm. Your cheeks are flushed, she’d say, a tease and a scold wrapped up in one. Don’t you know you need to keep warm up on your wall?
How easy it would have been to lead him away, to sit him by the fire and fend off the offers of too many drinks, curling into his side as simply as she always had and let his voice ease the hours away.
And now it is impossible. Yuzuri’s giggle echoes in her ears, and no matter which way she turns it over him her mind, looks like Obi needs to be warmed up, no longer conjures those conversations cozened in a forgotten corner, but instead--
Instead she thinks of his coat. Not this one the guard has given him, too short to warm much of anything, only making him look tall and lean beneath the heft of his cloak, but the old one. It’d hung long, the way Mitsuhide’s always had, more tunic than jacket in the Sereg way. Even when it fell open at the collar, Shirayuki had thought it looked warm, like a blanket someone might huddle under while the snow fell.
And it’s only a hop, a skip, a jump to think of it open to the waist, of how she might be so small as to fit inside it so long as she pressed close. How his own heat might mingle with hers, the way it had beneath the covers on Lilias’s coldest nights, and he--
Oh no, he’s coming toward her.
It’s tempting to do what’s always worked before: turn tail and run, hoping her good sense can catch up to her before he can. But there’s no use; if Zen chased her down in that wood without even breaking a sweat, a crowded room won’t even make Obi break stride. All it might get her is hurt feelings, and Obi-- Obi deserves better than that from her. He’s earned better than that.
So instead she plants herself on the carpet with all the courage of a deer before a carriage, legs trembling from the effort.
“Miss!” He can’t have grown since this morning, and yet she doesn’t remember having to crane her neck so much to bridge the gulf between their eyes. “I thought I saw you hiding back here.”
“I’m not hiding.” For all her speculation about the sort of warmth she could steal if she burrowed under his jacket, she hardly needs it. He stands close enough that she could reach out her hand and touch him with arm to spare, and still she feels his heat, barely muted by fabric and space. “I was just...cutting the cake.”
His glove splays over his chest; a gesture meant to be a joke, rather than a reminder of how large his hands are. “Without me? The guest of honor?”
“It’s not as if you’re the only one,” she informs him loftily. “There’s three of us, and we did have a majority.”
His brows lift, just enough to crinkle his scar. “That’s a very democratic celebration from a royal pharmacist.”
Her mouth twitches. “I get it from my father.”
“Now that I can see.” There’s a light in his eyes as he leans closer, a spark that dances as he says, “And Yuzuri getting punchy around drink three for something with enough cream to moo might have helped too, huh?”
“W-well.” Her back bumps into the table, jostling the dishes. “That might have had something to do with it.”
His hum rumbles in her ears, loud as if she were touching him, as if her bones themselves were conducting the sound even though there’s enough space still for someone to slip between them. It’s her only warning before that space disappears, the scent of leather and winter’s chill washing over her as Obi reaches out, lighting fast, to swipe a swirl of cream.
That would be bad enough to set her poor heart galloping in her chest, confused and skittish as a horse without its blinders, but then his mouth closes around that finger, sucking off the cream, and-- and--
Her mind goes utterly blank.
“Delicious,” he sighs, tongue trailing over his lips. “I’ll give it to Yuzuri, she sure knows how to pick a cake.”
“Here,” Shirayuki manages, her voice sounding as if it’s coming from down the hall rather than her own mouth. “Have some.”
It’s nothing to lift a plate from the table and shove it into his hands, and yet, she still nearly mangles it, getting half his fingers covered in frosting and the other half all tangled up in her own. If she’d been hoping to make some space between them, she’s sure done a botch job of it.
His skin has always been darker than hers, copper to her ivory, but it’s all the more apparent when his fingers wiggle, cream wobbling treacherously where it’s heaped on his knuckles. Obi blinks, eyes wide as he contemplates the mess she’s made, and the moment he opens his mouth, she-- she--
Well, she can’t help but wonder if he’ll lick them clean.
He doesn’t. “Here I was coming over here to see if I could get you something. And instead you’re the one getting me cake.”
“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me,” she assures him, too breathless, not at all contemplating the uses of her own tongue. Not like it’s doing anything useful right now besides making her stumble over every word anyway. “It’s right here! if I want something I can just get it.”
It’s obscene how his mouth curls, that lop-sided smile of sending a jolt of-- of something straight down to her toes and back again. “I wasn’t talking about the cake.”
There’s a rumble in his chest, and-- and it must be new. It wouldn’t startle her otherwise, jolting her one step back and making all the silverware clatter on the tablecloth. “Y-you weren’t? Then--?”
But if he did want you. Yuzuri’s slur burrows into her ears, a burr she can’t shake off. Would that change anything?
It wouldn’t. It couldn’t, because it’s-- it’s impossible. Obi may be discreet, but he’s not subtle, not about something like this. If he’d been able to keep his opinions to himself, Mitsuhide wouldn’t need to look over his shoulder every time he picked up a dropped paper. On the other hand, Kiki wouldn’t know just how powerful she was without her coat on in the yard, and, well--
The point is, if Obi felt even the slightest stirring when she entered the room, he would have-- she would have--
“I thought you might want a drink.” His chin bobs toward her. “You’re over here empty handed when we all know just how you feel about Suzu’s cider.”
This time he does raise his hand, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek as he bends to take it into his mouth, and she--
She squeaks. “I don’t think I’ll be drinking tonight.”
That draws him up short, unfortunately. Or maybe fortunately? Shirayuki can’t tell. “Miss, are you--?”
“I think I hear Yuzuri,” she blurts out, skirting a step around him. “Calling me, that is. So I better...”
She tries for an elegant bob of the head, something that said I’m leaving while also implying, but not for any reason that concerns you. Hopefully with enough confidence to add, don’t check.
If the way Obi’s eyebrows furrow is any indication, she fails on every count. “Miss, is there something--?”
She’d been hoping for a graceful exit, but in the end, Shirayuki will take full-on flight over having to talk about this any day.
“See you later,” she manages, nearly tripping over one of the girls from the geology department. “Enjoy the cake!”
In the end, Shirayuki does take that drink, though from a far safer distance if not from a steadier pair of hands.
“Here.” Yuzuri presses a warm mug on her with a laugh, cider sloshing over the rim. “Looks like you need it.”
Shirayuki suspects that she might be right.
It’s by the same magic that Yuzuri manages the second; appearing out of the crowd like some otherworldly creature, hair a tangled halo and earmuffs askew, before disappearing once more. Someone’s brought out a mandolone, and another a pipe, and with half the pharmacy’s day shift beating their hands on the table, something approaching music hangs in the air.
“Well the first snow has fallen,” a voice strains against the noise, pitched too high too start and too soft to hold, “and the second, third and fourth--”
She loses the thread of the melody, but it comes back in force when half the party shouts out, “Because we’re up so bloody north!”
A giggle bubbles out of her, and though these aren’t the words she’d grown up with-- those wouldn’t be fit for this sort of company, no matter what Yuzuri likes to encourage her to-- her toes set to tapping, and when it comes time for the second verse, she shouts out as loud the rest of the revelers, “cos we get twice the night!”
It’s then that her ear catches his voice, keeping up with the third verse, even if the rest of them can only stumble through. There’s as many as twelve to this one-- Suzu told her once when he’d found some notes about it in the archives, trying to win a bet about the wording of completely different song-- but she’s never heard more than five, and most of the scholars seem to know only a the first two plus whichever verse tickles them most.
But Obi’s always been a quick learner; when the last of his fellow singers bow out with a laugh, he tells the mandolone player to pick up the pace and launched into--
Ah, well. The verses she knew. At least, as much as she could hear through her grandmother’s hands.
“’Let us lay down together,’ the little herbwife said--” it’s strange how loud her voice is in her ears, the burr of his deepest notes shivering through her bones where he tempts the edge of his range-- “for a back on the mattress is the best treatment for the head--”
Ah, she’s never quite noticed that entendre, not until Obi’s smile wraps around it like a promise.
“--now the answer to your problem with which your questions begs--” the melody stretches his talents the other way now, climbing up the octave, but his voice doesn’t crack an inch-- “has always been best found right between the legs.”
It shouldn’t mean anything, not at all, but his eyes meet hers and-- and--
Obi looks like he knows a lot about that, Yuzuri had said, too confident. A lot, a lot--
Her hand slaps to her cheek, not nearly cool enough to quell its burning. That’s quite enough of that.
Yuzuri ambushes her with the third drink, flushed and jingling from the bells someone’s hung around her neck. Shirayuki’s tempted to wave her off-- the room’s already starting to sway, and if she tries anything more athletic than wall-leaning, she might have some distinct issues with the direction of flow in her esophageal region-- but instead she takes it, nursing it like Lata does his rocks.
It’s a mistake; this many drinks makes her thoughtful. If Obi had been watching, he would have kept her from making it. Occupational hazard, he would have told her, plucking it from her hand. Don’t need to be following you off any towers tonight.
But he’s not. No, instead he’s caught in a corner with a handful of scholars from the philosophical sciences, looking more entertained by the minute. One of them can’t be much older than Ryuu, but her head tilts just so, a fountain of loose blonde curls frothing over her shoulder, and her hand comes to rest on his arm. Obi glances down, eyebrows lifting barely more than a twitch, and she expects him to slip away, to put space between them the way he always does when she attempts to bridge that gulf.
And yet, he doesn’t. Instead his lips curl at one corner, those sharp eyes of his fixed to where hers keep flapping. The way Zen’s would after his interest wandered, weary of more mundane matters and eager to-- to--
Ah. Well. Perhaps she shouldn’t be watching so closely then. It may be a public venue, but there’s no reason for her to spy on anything so, er, intimate. Or at least, heading toward that quarter. Obi deserves better than serving as her entertainment.
Still, it’s an effort to look away, to drag her attention anywhere but where he stands, the same way it had been when she and Zen had stumbled upon his date in the marketplace all those years ago. I’m done with all that, he’d laughed later, walking her home. Too messy for me.
But now...
She shakes her head. He couldn’t have been twenty-five when he said that, still struggling to grow much more than stubble on his cheeks. Shirayuki may have chosen plants over a partner, a career over being cooped up in the castle, but that doesn’t mean that Obi has to follow suit.
He’d never shown much of an interest, abstaining from all the same banquets and being flowers on all the same walls when propriety forced them into them anyway, but she can understand how it might appeal to a commander of the guard when so many of his junior officers were so keen to be wed. Just last week, Hiro had come by her office to give her the invitation to his in person, beaming as he told her about the lady scholar he’d be making his wife in only a month’s time.
If that’s what Obi wants, then she’s happy to support him. It’s only--
If he had been an option, Yuzuri’s words echo, loud even in the din, would that have changed anything?
It’s silly to even entertain it. She never had been, save for maybe those first few weeks, when he was all sharp edges and she might have posed some challenge. But now that he knows her-- maybe even better than anyone ever has--
Well, he would have done something, wouldn’t he? Said something. He flirts with her the same as anyone, but there’s no heat in it; he only likes to skirt propriety, to see what might make her squirm. If there was any more to it than that, he’d seek out her touch rather than tolerate it, closing that distance between their bodies for some other reason than duty. A hand on her hip, a breath over the skin over her neck, pin her to a wall...
Oh! Well. The cider might have warmed her, but that’s done quite a bit more. An interesting idea to think on, for...academic purposes. Not because--
“Looks like you’re just about done for the night.”
There’s laughter in Obi’s eyes as he slips the mug from her numb fingers. Her eyes catch on his open collar as he bends, gaping to bear the touchable skin of his throat. “H-huh?”
“You’re all flushed.” He smiles, one side tugging higher than the other, more fond than salacious. “You want to catch a breath, Miss? Maybe take a turn outside?”
“Ah...” She considers the room, the thick press of bodies that only seems to grow more cloying as the night goes on-- and then thinks of how it would be if it were just her and Obi, his heat radiating through the wool of his coat--
Shirayuki bobs her head, hoping it’s the right direction for a yes.
“Good,” he sighs, a laugh hidden inside it. “I’m dying to be able to hear myself think for a minute.”
Lilias may no longer be steeped in winter, the cold no longer burning every sliver of skin uncovered, but snow still coats what’s not cobble, squatting in slumped piles made months before. The breeze riffles through her cloak like a thief, still brisk even if it lacks all the bite of the nights before, stealing the break from her lungs and warmth from her pockets.
To think, if she stayed in Wistal, she would be wearing linen instead of wool and still sweating. Ah, no, worse-- her birthday would be a day earmarked on the court’s social calendar, a momentous occasion for her to fed and feted until she could hardly stand to see another cake. There would be no time to stand beneath the night sky, tracing the same lines the ancient scholars did between the stars; no quiet to escape to when the din grew too loud. Princesses lived for their people, after all.
There were reasons she hadn’t chosen that life. Good ones, better than just simple inconvenience. But tonight, as her breath mists trails into the late spring chill, it’s the petty ones that give her the most comfort.
A cape drops heavily across her shoulders, chasing away winter’s icy fingers. Her hands fly up, but she only manages to brush fingertips before Obi’s touch scuttles away. There it is again; she reaches, he retreats.
And yet it’s not far enough for his warmth to leave her, a tangible pressure at her shoulder. “Something the matter, Miss?”
She blinks, craning her neck until she meets the concern in his eyes. “Hm?”
“You’re quiet.” A corner of his mouth threatens to cant, trembling where he holds it steady. A perfect place for lips, her mind offers her, unbidden. “Which means you’re up to something.”
“Oh!” She tears her gaze away, letting it skitter over the stones like snow on the wind. “No. I wasn’t...I was only thinking.”
His laugh clouds the corner of her vision. “Ah, Miss. Don’t you know that’s worse?”
It’s odd to be so low at this time of night; usually their nighttime wanderings bring them along the wall, the whole of Lilias spread out beneath their feet. But tonight there are no twinkling lights below them, only the ones above, caught in the aurora’s current. “Should I be dissatisfied with my life, do you think?”
He shifts at her shoulder, all that confidence of his turned uncertain. She has a gift for doing that to him, for some reason. “Wanna run that by me again?”
“That’s what you’re supposed to do at thirty, isn’t it?” She deflates with a sigh, her back bowing into his chest. He stiffens beneath the touch, but tolerates it. He likes her that much at least. “Think you haven’t done enough.”
“Ha.” The sound rattles along her spine before it ever makes it out of his mouth. “I think that’s for other people, Miss. Ones who haven’t spread Phostyrias across the North, or helped keep a civil war from spilling across Clarines soil. Or has that-- that stuff--?”
Rumor might paint Obi’s tongue silver, but it doesn’t make science any easier for him to speak. “Fervidus argens.”
“Right, that.” His shoulder twitches at her back, at least half a shrug. “Someone who hasn’t made that into something more than a bad night at the banquet.”
“I suppose that’s all impressive.” Her fingers clench at his cape, drawing it tighter around her shoulders until she’s enveloped in his scent, leather and pine and southern spice. “But...”
“But?”
“There’s things I haven’t done.” Her head tilts, just enough to meet his eyes as she tells him, “Gotten you to say my name, for one.”
Obi’s skin isn’t one to show a blush, not even as pale as it’s gotten up here, away from the sun. But still, his ears pink, just at the tips. “Miss...”
She takes pity on him, turning her attention back to the stars. “And according to Yuzuri, I’ve missed out on my chance for romance.”
He’s quiet then; the sort that’s far too thoughtful for something so silly, lasting entirely too long.
“If you wanted that,” he begins, voice rough as if he’d let a team of horses drag it gate to gate both ways. “Master would have--”
“Please.” Her hand flies into the space between them, and oh, she’s clearly had too much, since her fingertips take extra care in closing his mouth. “Don’t do that. I’m not-- I wasn’t trying to talk about Zen. There’s no regrets there, Obi. We did what was right for the both of us.”
And one of us was hurt far less by it than we expected, she nearly says, but his silence stifles it the way words never could. It’s not an absence of sound, the way she’s used to, but one that prickles with what’s unsaid. She and Zen might have said their piece about the dwindling end of their road together, but Obi-- Obi had only watched.
His jaw flexes beneath her hand, and she lets it fall away. It would serve her right if he scolded her now; leaving Zen behind had been her choice, but Obi’s future had always been mixed up in theirs, the way Kiki or Mitsuhide’s never was. His position depended on her being the second prince’s princess, someone deserving of protection, and she-- she let it all slip through her fingers, as easy as sand through an hourglass.
Whatever she expects, it’s not for him to say, “Did you want one? A romance?”
“No.” It comes out harsher than she means. “I mean, it’s never been a priority. I’ve always had other things to worry about. But sometimes...”
Her mouth works, but it take a few minutes before she manages to get out, “Sometimes I think about my mother. And my father. They had me when they were hardly twenty, and I...”
She swallows, hard. “I wonder if by choosing all this, I’ve given up to have that. Ah, have a family, I mean.”
It’s a silly thing, she knows it, but Obi doesn’t laugh. No, when she turns to look at him, he’s serious, those narrow brows of his drawn tight over the blade of his nose. “You know, if you’re worried about that, you could do what Yuzuri did.”
Shirayuki blinks. “What’s that?”
White flashes in the dim. “Make a pact with Suzu.”
“W-wha--?”
He slips around her, grin far too wide. “If she’s thirty and no one better’s come along, then he’ll get her pregnant.”
Distantly, she’s aware that her jaw’s just hanging there, open for the world to see, but there’s little and less she can do about it. “Yuzuri did what?”
He’s far too pleased when he offers, “I bet if you hurry, Suzu would be happy to help you too.”
Perhaps if she hadn’t sipped at that last cider, she might be able to hide her grimace. Or at least soften it into something else.
“Aw, c’mon, Miss. Don’t be like that.” His grin only widens, hovering far too close. “Think about it. Your kids would be half-siblings! Other girls might have double weddings, but you’d be sister wi--”
Her hand jumps up again, covering his mouth. This is becoming a bad habit. “I don’t want children that badly!”
It’s terrible how nice it feels to have his finger wrap around her wrist, even worse than the smile that presses into her palm. He pulls it down just enough to eke out, “But a sibling would be good for Little Ryuu--”
“Oh shush,” she murmurs, even as she lets her hand go limp in his grip. “He’s old enough to be a father himself, if he wanted.”
Obi shudders. “Perish the thought. But if you don’t want Suzu, there’s plenty of books in the library. I bet if you asked Kazaha--”
Her cheeks hurt from the way they pull. “Kaza--? Obi, you know that he--”
“You’re right,” Obi agrees too easily. “He’d never go for it out of the gate. Maybe if you went to one of his poetry readings?”
A laugh bursts out of her, unbidden. “Oh, please, stop.”
“What about the guy in geology? What’s his name?” Obi never forgets a name or a face, especially one that’s introduced itself to her. But he makes a good show of it, using her own fingers to tap his chin as he muses, “Daiki? Daisuke?”
“Daichi,” she supplies wearily, tamping down on the laugh that threatens to bubble out. “And I don’t want him or Kazaha to father my children, thank you.”
“Playing hard to get, are you?” he hums, brows leaping up his forehead. “Well, I suppose we could send out for Shikito. Or maybe ask Miss Kiki if she’d be willing to let Mister out of the stables--”
“Obi!” It’s impossible keep that laugh behind her teeth, not when she’s already gasping as he winds up to offer the next crop of unfortunately. “Please! I don’t want either of them. Or any of these ridiculous...parent pacts! I only--”
He tugs on her wrist, and it’s a misjudgement on his part; even without the cider, her laughter makes her helpless. They both stumble, careening back until his hits a pillar, and she--
She lands squarely on his chest. Or maybe his stomach, from the way he winces.
“Oh, come on, Miss,” he groans, head leaning back against the column. “Just give me a name. No, a hint. I promise--”
“If I was going to choose anyone,” she blurts out, too breathless, “it would be you.”
Her wrist aches where he grips it, so hard she nearly winces before it falls away altogether. He might have even put more space between them, if she wasn’t resting directly on his chest, palms keeping him pinned to the pillar. Instead he just stares down at her, wary as a cat caught in a corner, eyes too large in his face.
“I didn’t mean...” That I want to have sex with you, she means to say, except-- except she’s all too aware now why her breath quickens when he enters a room, or why her stomach flips when he bends closer than he usually dares, smile near enough to see the cracks on his lips. “It’s only that I...I trust you. We’ve been together long than...” Most couples we know. “...Zen and I ever were in the same place!”
Ah, that’s...worse.
“And, uh...” She clears her throat, trying on a smile that doesn’t quite fit. “You work has better hours.”
“Ah-haah. Well,” he manages weakly, not quite meeting her eyes. “That’s the sort of pragmatic consideration I expect from you, Miss.”
Shirayuki levers herself away, letting the chill slip between them. For once, Obi looks relieved.
Ha, and to think, Yuzuri has called him an option.
“Don’t worry, Obi.” she murmurs, staring down at where her hands grip each other, rather than him. “I would never impose on you like that. Or your happiness! Not with some silly pact or whatever. I mean, you looked like you having a good time tonight with that girl--”
“Girl.” He does look at her now, purpose honing his attention to an edge. “What girl?”
“Ah, the one you were talking to just a little while ago.” It was a mistake to have said something, but now that it’s out there, she can’t possibly take it back. She just has to forge on, regretting every word that falls out of her mouth. “Just before you brought me that drink. You, er, looked like you were having a nice time.”
“Ah, right.” He rubs at his mouth, and she could swear there’s the barest hint of a smile peeking through. “Her. Of course.”
When he peels himself from his pillar, it’s with an aching slowness, the sort that makes time stretch with anticipation as his hips roll up and the rest of him follows. Even standing, his saunter is so slow the half expects dawn to come before he reaches her, the bustle of the university breaking this moment’s spell.
But it doesn’t; instead he comes close, enough that the wool of his jacket brushes the palms of her raised hands.
“You know...” His voice rumbles through the arcade, humming at that frequency that makes her question the density of her own bones. “If you’d asked...”
“M-mm?” It’s an effort to make even that much of a noise, at least as long as it isn’t a squeak.
He leans in, breath fanning over her face and he murmurs, “I would have said yes, Shirayuki.”
Her ears ring, so loud that she can’t possibly have heard him. Not when he said-- when she thought he said-- “W-what?”
“Ah...” With no warning at all, he steps away, cold air rushing between them. His smile stretches too tight across his face, every line of his body wrong as he tells her, “Don’t worry about it, Miss.”
He makes to retreat, eyes slipping away from hers as his body turns, the space between them ever increasing, gaping--
And she panics. Her fingers hook on the thick fabric of his sleeve, halting him as quick as a dropped anchor. “Miss...?”
“Say it again,” she breathes, clenching tight, wool balled against her palm. “Please.”
He blinks, lost. “What--?”
“My name.” She dares to glance up, and it’s impossible to tell if he’s stepped closer or she’s dragged him, but his eyes are impossibly close, searching her. “Say it again, please.”
His breath hitches. “Shirayuki--”
It’s strange how easy it is to vault that insurmountable space; all it takes is pulling him down as she rises up, and they meet as inexorably as the tide and the shore. His lips are cold against hers, but that’s hardly a hurdle, not when they open on a gasp, and she-- she isn’t sure if she’s doing it right or well, but for a moment she buzzes wherever they touch, a puzzle electrified to find it’s missing piece--
And then his hands are on her shoulders, settling her back on her heels. “Miss!” he yelps, voice cracking on the vowel. “I didn’t mean you needed to start right now!”
“I...” It rushes back to her, Yuzuri’s foolish pact and Obi’s rumbling. Her cheeks are already flushed, but they burn now, tongue tripping over itself to untangle, “That’s not what I meant! Or, er, that’s not what I’m doing. No, wait, I mean...that’s not why I...”
His chest heaves under her hands, and-- her hands.  She’s no longer just gripping his sleeve, but pressing him back, forcing him against the pillar. And he--
He’s arched into the touch, not simply tolerating, not anymore. No, he might be trying to put space between them, but every muscle is strained to keep it. As if it was an effort to keep from melting into her, as if--
As if she were an option. “Then what--?”
It’s impossible to explain how much she’s come to abhor the space between them, how every inch mocks her with how long she’s left it open. When after all these years, she could have simply leaned into him and felt what it was to steal his breath, to make his eyes as dark and wild as they are now.
So she shows him instead. Slower this time, not yanking him down to her, but slowly unfurling up into him, her lips brushing his with a softness that makes her ache in places she’s only heard of in Yuzuri’s books. His chest trembles beneath her palms, but it’s the only movement he makes, the rest of him frozen under her touch. It’s enough to make her hesitate, to wonder if maybe she had wanted him to want her too much, and he--
He cups the back of her head, pulling her impossibly closer, until there seems to be no beginning or end to their bodies, just this unending warmth as his tongue curls behind her teeth. Now it’s her turn for her breath to catch, for her to sigh into his mouth when his fingers trace shivers down her spine. Her her to moan when his hand curves over her hip and--
And suddenly the space is back.
“Ah, Miss,” he laughs, breathless enough that she wants to leap across the gap, to swallow it down and feel it ring in her own chest. But he’s already moving away, slipping out from between her fingers like smoke. “I think you’ve had a few too many tonight.”
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
What happened to Shirayuki? she means to say, but he’s already shaking his head, chagrined. “Nothing, nothing. It’s just...late.”
She can’t argue that point, not when it was already late when he arrived, and now it’s only gotten later still.
“We should...” He lets out a shuddering sigh, body twisted like she may not notice if he doesn’t face her while he does it. “You should really get back to you room. Sleep some of this cider off. I’d hate to see the kind of morning you’re going to have if you don’t.”
Perhaps she really has had too much; to her there’s no earthly reason to stop, to put this space back between them. But she doesn’t know how to put those feelings to words, only, “Will you walk me back?”
His smile is strained when he replies, “Of course, Miss. What else am I here for?”
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claudeng80 · 1 year
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Changeling, ch. 4
  * nineteen weeks after the leaf
“Everything seems to be fine, physically.” Garrack toweled off her hands, and Shirayuki sat up on the examining table. “No recurrences of the nausea and fainting?”
“It was an unusual occurrence, I promise. I’ve been feeling fine since.” The last thing she wanted was to make a habit of being carried back to the pharmacy. “Aside from the heartburn. And the fact that I’m tired, my feet hurt, and now my navel’s irritated too.” Softened and stretched outward, it rubbed against the inside of her clothes.
“I see. There’s not much to do about that- it’ll get acclimated, and at least it should go back to normal after the baby’s born.”
“Normal sounds so far away,” Shirayuki said with a sigh. It wasn’t like having a child would bring any less change into her life. But a sore navel just felt like adding insult to injury.
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maverae · 7 years
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Obiyuki Week 2017
Day 7
Protect
He wakes up to her alarm. Within a few reluctant moments she is sitting at the edge of the bed and the dull orange of the streetlamps has illuminated her silhouette. His gaze, still foggy with sleep, follows the outline of her naked form, the cascade of her bedhead down her back, errant strands catching like fire in the light. Her goosebumps are visible even to him as she rubs her arms to warm herself against the autumn breeze crawling in through the window.
Before he can actualize his hazy urge to pull her back into his arms, to stave off the chill and keep her forever under their nest of blankets she is gone, ghosted away to get ready for the day. The clock reads 4:31 am. He listens to her soft steps padding around their flat until sleep takes him under again.
--
He stirs at the creak of the door, his eyes opening only just, and he sees her from between his eyelashes, peering in. Deciding that he must still be asleep, she moves as if to shut the door but turns to glance at him again, the look on her face soft, pleased.
This is a habit of her’s, he knows. A remnant of days past, when sleep for him was rare. He remembers another time, when she peered past the door only to be met with him sitting up in bed, arms crossed and braced for her quiet concern. This time, he rolls over, still half asleep, and gathers up her pillow in his arms. He breathes deeply in the scent of her shampoo and succumbs again to sleep.
--
He meets her outside the hospital doors two hours later than usual. She looks disheveled with an ancient baggy sweater pulled hastily over her scrubs, her eyes red and puffy. It’s clear she’s been crying. Before she attempts to apologize for her lateness he pulls her into a hug. He holds her for a heartbeat, then two, then three… he isn’t sure how many minutes pass as she sighs softly into his chest. He watches his breath condense in the air as he tries to swallow down the tightness in his own throat, the urge to fight her sadness, her loss away. Eventually, he chokes back his urge to fix the unfixable. When she is ready, she will talk. Until then, he knows she just needs some time to mourn, to figure out what she missed, if she made a mistake. When he notices the tips of her ears turning red from the cold, he steps back, takes her hand, and walks her home in silence.
--
She warms up again over some hot takeout. By the time he procures a microwavable brownie she is even smiling. She falls asleep on the couch before he’s even finished boxing up the leftovers. Wordlessly, gently, he lifts her into his arms and carries her to their bedroom. Underneath the pile of blankets, he pulls her close. Together, with her warm softness curled into his, they will keep out the cold autumn night.
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2022 Creators Self-Love Extravaganza!
Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2022. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love!
Considering myself tagged by @onedivinemisfit ;) thanks!! Similarly, if anyone wants to do this and hasn't been tagged yet, I tag you! <3
Hug Lessons
I was so pleased to finally get this drawn on paper after it had lived in my head for so long :) Still makes me laugh to imagine this interaction between them...
2. Drinks and Hijinks
Gosh this took me SO LONG to finish! I'm proud of the work I put into it and the overall finished piece, especially considering how I find clothes and poses verrry difficult to draw :') I like seeing the whole gang together, and it was my first time properly drawing Zen!
3. Soirée Away
A fic that I had a great time writing! I got pretty immersed in the scenes and was happy with the outcome~ Dramatic Eisetsu was super fun to write :D
4. Chat Noir Obi
Like I said before poses and clothes are tricky for me, and this is a full-body pose, in other words, a moment of triumph. I have a whole list of ML au notes that I might build on one day, and if it gets me improving full body poses and clothes then it certainly is miraculous, ahaha
5. Concern...
A smally but a goody! I really like her expression and the detail I got into her hair and collar :) Also: Bun Shirayuki!!
Some honourable mentions:
Pillow Talk Part 2 (finally completed it omg)
The Sassassins
Blanket Obi being a Mood
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puffdragongirl · 2 years
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Burned Chapter 5 - Quarry (Northern War AU)
Written for day 4 (free day) of Obiyukiweek 2022!
Please note there is some fairly graphic violence, non-graphic reference to non-consensual sexual acts, and characters experiencing PTSD in this work, and in particular in this chapter. Please read with caution!!
“This should be far enough.”
With that announcement, Shirayuki is unceremoniously pushed to the ground. She is momentarily stunned as she meets the ground chin-first, a sharp pain and the faint taste of iron blooming as her teeth dig into one side of her cheek. Disoriented, she wriggles against her bonds, but wins nothing more than laughter from their captors. She recovers enough to roll onto her side, grimacing as moisture from the cold, wet ground seeps into her tights. A thump beside her marks Ryuu’s presumed arrival to the forest floor alongside her, and she wishes she could see him, see anything, but the hood tossed over her head prevents that. 
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