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cityandking · 3 months

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game night

oc kiss week '24 // minah/riya + canon divergent (1.1k) riya belongs to @msommers, who suggested this. thanks tabby xo

The game is a bit of a slog, truth be told. There’s an unexpected showing from Leo right at the end, and Rhydian honestly has the bluff down if only he’d just commit, but all in all it’s a tepid thing. Cian folds when he should keep raising—Minah knows he has a good hand, and she’s fairly certain Nanna’s helping him out given how often the mabari circles the table to bark at nothing—and Riya sits puffing next to her, sliding a few dull silver coins into the pot when she should fold. Minah's two sovereigns poorer herself and still more bored than disappointed. It's that sort of night.

Leo calls it in the end. Less for his winnings—it’ll all just go into whatever he cooks next, so really they’re paying it forward to themselves—and more for the hour, which is small and black and tired. The nights have been like that lately, endless and stifling with the weight of the Blight looming over them, but the only thing worse than the heavy night is that moment when they all trail off to their individual bunks to wait for morning alone. Minah tries not to let it get to her—she's a night owl anyway, and long, sleepless nights mean more folk around looking for entertainment, which means a laugh or a game or a bit of coin.

But tonight is slow, and drab, and heavy. Endless.

“It’s late,” Cian echoes, almost apologetic as Leo stands and slides his winnings into his purse. He rises with a stretch and a somewhat disconcerting pop. “And I don’t think need to lose any more money. Not that this wasn’t fun, but…”

Nanna bounds to him as soon as he starts gathering his things, making a brief pit stop to get a scratch from Leo. Riya stays seated at the table, counting her losings.

“You can always win it back,” Minah invites. Rydian’s flat mouth presses down even flatter as he gets up, and Cian gives her a look like he knows exactly how much shit she’s full of. It’s a familiar sort of resignation, and it brings out half a smile at least. “Or not. Just an invitation.”

She doesn't say, What else are you going to spend it on? but the sentiment is there.

“Same time next week?” Leo offers, which is decision enough for everyone. Minah tips him a salute, two fingered and loose, and he waves them goodnight. Riya tucks her purse away, a little slower to head out than the rest of them. Not quite ready to sleep, maybe.

“Chin up,” Minah says, nudging at her with a knee. “You didn’t lose as badly as you could have.”

“What a relief,” Riya drawls. “I always prefer to only lose a little.”

"If you've got another game you'd prefer, I'm all ears."

"I don't mind cards."

"But you'd rather something else."

Riya slides a look her her, slantwise and a little sour. "You said it, not me," she returns, sweetness of her tone at perfect odds with her expression. Minah snorts.

"D'you not enjoy my tender hospitality?"

"Is it tender?"

"I like to think so."

Near the door, Cian pauses, looking back at them with a question written across his face. Minah waves him off, all assurance. They’ll turn in in their own time. He hesitates a moment longer, but Nanna is insistent about bedtime, and there’s really no dissuading her when she gets an idea in her head. Rhydian follows on their heels, and Leo is already long gone, keeping his old man hours. He’ll be up before any of them, probably.

It leaves the two of them quite alone, siting at the table with nothing but a deck of cards and the weight of the night.

"Maybe I could help, if you'd rather something else," Minah says, leaning back in her chair. It must be nearly third watch, but the game has done nothing to burn off that nudging tremor of worry that sits in her chest. Riya, though...

"Did you have something in mind?"

“I might have a few suggestions.” Minah prides herself in that. Maybe they aren't talking about the hazy stormcell of apprehension lingering over the city, or the slow, sunny rotting they’re all doing, aware of the horde at the edges of their collective awareness but slow to strike, but they all feel it. It’s a sticky, heavy sort of summer. Who couldn’t use a distraction, really?

"I'm all ears," Riya says, and something about the way she says it, all dragged out and inviting, draws Minah's attention in a new, different way. She gives Riya a look, long and contemplative, and— It's not the worst idea. She's done stupider things in her time.

"I'm just not sure our types of entertainment mesh," Minah deflects, a little to be an ass, mostly to see if Riya will push it. She gets a look in return, equally assessing, and Riya settles her chin in the palm of her hand.

"I'm not opposed to trying something new."

Minah shrugs. She says, "Alright." And she leans over for a kiss.

Riya kisses about like Minah expects—adroit, thorough, like she knows exactly what she wants and how to get it. Minah lets her lead, more interested in seeing where this goes than in bringing it anywhere in particular. Besides, its been a while since she's spent time with someone who knows what they're doing, and Riya—in spite of everything else—most certainly knows what she's doing.

"So what do you think?" Minah asks when they part, a little more breathless than anticipated. There's a familiar thrill under her skin. "More to your liking?"

"I didn't think those particular cards were on the table," Riya returns, touching the corner of her lips. Minah tracks the motion of her hand and the way her mouth curves in a smirk at the attention, and she tamps down on the familiar spark of irritation. She expects that, though; it's easier to weather Riya when one is prepared for her to be insufferable.

"If you're not interested—"

"I didn't say that," Riya corrects. "I'm just surprised."

Minah shrugs. There's not that much to be surprised about. She'd bored, buzzing and disinterested in hunting down other entertainment, and curious in a terrible sort of way. And Riya is here and bored and interested. It's fairly simple arithmetic.

"You're thinking too hard," Minah says, and she punctuates it with a kiss right at the corner of Riya's mouth, right where her fingers sat a moment ago. Leaves it there like bait. "Don't take it too personally. You're not the only one who likes other sorts of games."

She leans past Riya to grab the deck, shuffling them and tucking them into her pocket, and she's halfway out of her chair when a hand touches her knee, slides up the outside of her leg to rest at her hip. Minah glances down, waiting.

"If you want to play," Riya says, and Minah drags her up, cards forgotten. It's a long while before either of them turn in for the night.

#I have no idea if I got riya's voice down even a little bit (tbh I'm not even sure I got minah's voice down)#but I absolutely had to do something for them #tabby this is for you. thanks for the idea. I apologize.#mine; writing #ockiss24 #shipping stuff #I guess????#mine; minah #r: tbd #minah

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evidently-endless · 25 days

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i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.

#i love reading your examples! however next person to be like um actually this exists?? it’s on sight #i know it exists. i think it’s fun. that’s why i think more people should do it.#sometimes i think the confessional style loses impact because everything has to be excavated from the depths of the soul #and somehow. confessional writing seems to be going with the most disaffected bland sound possible. odd.#i love deeply personal songs! i love when songs sound like they mean something to the artist!#something something wider issue of mining trauma and being performatively vulnerable for quote unquote content #idk i don’t have the actual knowledge to write about this well there’s just something not landing for me recently #mine

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filiseverus · 10 months

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The Barbie movie reminded me about how when I was little my parents were upset that I kept making my Barbie dolls kiss, so they bought me a Ken doll. The next day they found me having a funeral for poor Ken in the garden, he had died of tuberculosis. All the Barbies were in attendance and I buried him under our rose bush. The Barbies were too poor to afford a headstone (it was 1875) so I didn’t mark where the grave was and I never could find him again. He’s probably still there.

#barbie movie #barbie #feminism #ken #ken doll #i’m just ken #my writing #true story #ryan gosling #barbie dolls #greta gerwig #margot robbie #oppenheimer #barbenheimer #if you ever find a Ken doll wrapped in toilet paper that’s mine sorry

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crimeronan · 5 months

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i think about this tweet Every Time i see people scared to write women with flaws bc they think it'll come off as sexist. cannot believe this is nearly a decade old. Ahead Of Its Time.....

#not just fandom writers. this also includes some very sweet very anxious people in irl writing group #clutching you by the shoulders. Make Your Women Crazier.#For Your Health And Mine Alike .

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bebx · 7 months

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just-french-me-up · 8 months

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the urge to write is like a cat meowing for dear life for someone to open the goddamn door, who then shows utter disinterest in said open door

#writing #writing nightmare #writeblr #writers #writer's problems #writing problems #fanfic writers #i just need TIME #IT'S COMING THERE'S JUST TOO MUCH HAPPENING #mine

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denofdreams-writerblr · 8 months

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#writerblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #write #writing memes #writer memes #memes #mine #writing #writer humor #humor #meme humor

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fandom-trash-goblin · 2 months

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a girl of fear, a woman of anger— look how we've grown

girls contain multitudes, heather o'neill / king, florence + the machine / The Affront (L'affronto), by Antonio Piatti / In the Dream House, Carmen Maria Machado / this pin / cassandra, florence + the machine / What If This Were Enough?: Essays by Heather Havrilesky) / crush, richard siken / the closest thing i could find was this soundcloud link / a womans beauty, susan sontag / a vision of fiammetta, dante gabriel rossetti / stop me, natalia kills / fury, yevgeny yevtushenko

everyone say god bless you to @pe4rl-diver for the sources

#and they ask why we need feminism #feminism #gender inequality #poetry #quotes #spilled ink #poems and quotes #spilled poetry #words #webweaving #webweave #aesthetic #poems and poetry #writing #poem #spilled thoughts #web weaving #*mine: graphics

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stanleyscubrick · 8 months

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A Burst of Light, Audre Lorde

#a burst of light #audre lorde #selected works of audre lorde #mine #studyblr #studyspo #dark academia #light academia #booklr #writing #chaotic academia #literature #classical academia

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lesbianjudasiscariot · 1 year

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#start today!#art #mine #edit #typo #religious #typography #web weaving #text #writing #collage #painting #my words #i dont know what yall expect my username is lesbianjudasiscariot #♡

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cityandking · 3 months

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another kind of hello

oc kiss week '24 // dairef + canon (1.2k) dai and zaref got to enjoy a couple (private!) date nights in selto after daichi's time in the abyss. here's the tail end of their first post-rez date (and also their first real proper date ever)

He thinks on it all afternoon, as they leave the tattoo parlor and when they pass the skating rink and at dinner after. It isn’t that big a thought, not really, but it seems to grow larger the longer he mulls it over, and more layered, and a little delicate too. It's the sort of thought he has to turn over so he can see it from all angles before he speaks out.

So it isn’t until they’re standing on the street after dinner, night warm and bright and busy around them in the way Selto always is, that he says, “I want to do this right.”

Zaref, looking up timetables on the side of the bus shelter, glances at him.

“I know it’s a little late for that,” Daichi allows, more wry than guilty—which is a relief, to be honest; he doesn’t want to do this with guilt. “But I’d like to do this right anyway. Or as right as I can.”

“This,” Zaref echoes. His eyes trace the lines of the bus shelter, pointed, and Daichi swallows something that feels like a laugh.

“Dinner,” he clarifies. “Skating rinks. Museums or bars or... I would like to spend time with you without worrying about the world ending around us.”

Zaref raises an eyebrow. “I believe they call that dating.”

His tone is dry, but there’s something amused in the crook of his mouth as he says it.

"I— Yes." Daichi shrugs, too aware of his own skin and the shape of himself inside it. “I don’t know if I’ll be very good at it. I haven’t had much experience, and things so far have been… a little intense.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“And—“ Daichi hesitates, takes a breath. This is the harder part, one of the layers he isn't entirely sure about. “And I know you’re angry.”

In truth, anger feels like too small a word for it, but it’s the one Zaref used. Even saying it now it makes him go a little still, a little sharp.

“I would like to do things right," he says, careful. Zaref waits, watching, giving Daichi time to parcel out what he wants to say. Daichi still isn't entirely sure how to tell him how grateful he is for that space. "Even if it’s difficult. I want time with you. I want to know you with and without the armor. I want— I want to have fun.”

Zaref gives him a look at that, something between challenge and doubt, but Daichi holds it. He means that. He has the sense it might take more work than he’s prepared for—fun is not something he's had much opportunity to cultivate—but he wants it. He’s never been one to shy away from hard work.

A heartbeat later, Zaref’s expression softens. The city moves around them, cars and pedestrians and the endless hum.

“We have some fun,” he says, mild.

“Well, yes. But we also…” He doesn’t want to bring up the Abyss right now. Or Selto, or Monrha, or Asdor, or Wiztopia. He grimaces. “We don’t often have time for it.”

“No,” Zaref allows. “I suppose we do not.”

“So I would just— I’d like to do this again. More. I had a good time. I’d like to— I want to take you out again.”

“I think you are supposed to wait to ask for a second date after the first one has ended.” Zaref is definitely smiling now. Daichi sighs.

“I thought someone might try to listen in if I asked at home.”

“I suppose sometimes they can be nosy.”

“Right,” Daichi says dryly. “Sometimes.”

Zaref laughs.

“I know they mean well," he hurries to add, a little sorry for the irritation. They don't deserve it, mostly. They mean the best of almost everyone he knows. “I only— I hope you’ll forgive me if sometimes I don’t want to share you. Or— Share us, I guess.”

“Mmh,” hums Zaref. “I think I can forgive you for that.”

“So then— Can we do this again?”

“Isn't it customary to kiss at the end of the date,” Zaref returns, “before asking for the next one?"

He's definitely teasing now, but it draws Daichi up short.

“You— Oh.” He isn’t sure why that’s a surprise, except that they haven’t actually kissed, not since— Zaref’s has hardly left his side, true, but this is…

This they haven’t tried again. Not yet.

“Are you sure?” he asks. This feels like the sort of thing that requires confirmation. Permission. The guilt is back, a little—it does tend to lurk, particularly where Zaref is concerned.

Zaref’s answer is a step forward, moving slow and purposefully into Daichi’s space. The closeness is not a surprise, but he hand on his jaw is a sweeter, stranger thing. For a moment, Daichi remembers a desert world from a lifetime ago. The sun has long since set, but the light of the bus shelter drips over them, and Daichi is all instinct when he rises onto his toes and closes the distance between them.

It’s a strange thing to kiss someone again after so many years of separation. It's strange to fall back into something he used to know so well and hasn't forgotten so much as un-remembered.

“Sorry,” he mumbles when they part, his heart thudding a mile a minute. He says it like a reflex, automatic and clumsy, and it surprises him. His fingers have curled into Zaref’s shirt, holding tight without his permission, and a small and distant part of him marvels at how badly he can miss someone who is standing right in front of him. All of the neat, clean lines of meaning he holds in his mind smear to abstraction; he forgets to look at the layers and the angles and the thoughts. “Sorry,” he repeats, though sorry isn't what he means at all, and then he leans in to kiss Zaref again.

Everything inside him buzzes. He feels it from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, a shock and a settling both. It is, he imagines, a little like coming home. Something like desperation pushes up under his tongue, a deep and welling want, and Daichi makes himself pull away before it swamps him.

“Don’t apologize,” says Zaref, hand at his waist, voice rough. “Don’t— Not for this.”

“Okay,” Daichi nods. Promises. He takes a breath and makes himself unhook his fingers from Zaref’s shirt. He finds his hand instead, a better thing to hold, and Zaref slots their fingers together without a word.

For a long minute, they sit under the shelter. The bus comes, and then they sit there instead, side by side, clasped hands tucked between them. The night flashes past through the window, the city big and blooming and alive.

It isn’t until they get off the bus that Daichi asks again.

“Persistent,” Zaref says, squeezing his hand. Daichi hums.

“I've heard I can sometimes be stubborn.”

“Sometimes,” Zaref echoes, dry, and Daichi doesn’t bother to hide his smile. Zaref bumps against him, pointedly clumsy, and Daichi sways with him. “I guess you like me, hm.”

It catches for a moment—that flicker of guilt, of things left unsaid too long. Daichi feels it and lets it pass.

“Yes. I meant it. I want to do this right.”

“Mmh. Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’d like that too.”

“Okay,” says Daichi, and even in the dark he can see the edge of Zaref’s smile. “Then we will.”

#this is like. canon adjacent. a canon what-if. I have no idea what goes through zaref's head but whatever I wrote something anyway #ockiss24 #mine; writing #a tag I haven't used in a million million years wow #r: light through stained glass #voidhopping campaign #mine; daichi #daichi

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redxxstrings · 11 months

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~640 words | ichigo comfort fic for @strawberrisoulmate <3

"i-i'm sor— s-sorry, i— i-i didn't mean to— t-to start c-cry—"

"'s'okay, baby. don't worry 'bout it."

in his lap, curled up in his arms, hana sobbed, her face buried as deeply into his chest as it could go, fingers gripping so tightly at the thin fabric of his tank top that they were beginning to turn white. her shoulders shook weakly in his grasp — shuddered against the muscles keeping her fragile body in place; quivered with a fear he wished he could rid her of.

"you're okay." ichigo's voice came out soft; a quiet murmur amidst the sharp sobs that had since filled the air around them. one of his hands ran over her hair — from where it started at the top of her head to the tips that just barely brushed her shoulders — in steady rhythm with the beat of his heart. "i gotcha. 'm not gonna let anything happen to ya."

i won't let anything happen to you again.

a sniffle cut through one of her sobs; just barely, she tilted her head up, tears streaming down her face as her eyes met his. "p... p-promise...?"

he nodded slightly — slowly; slower than normal, as if he were worried that moving too fast might startle her. "promise." his palm pulled itself from her hair to gingerly touch her cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping away a stray tear that hit his hand. "nothing's gonna happen to ya when 'm here."

i'll make damn sure of it.

the tears steadily pouring from her eyes didn't slow, but the fear that had once colored her irises started to fade. a fraction of the tension in her body melted away; left her slumping back into the warmth of his chest, running nose burying itself into the now-damp fabric of his shirt. "th... th-thank y-you..." whimpered unsteadily past her lips; went muffled against him as her fingers slowly uncurled themselves and her arms weakly snaked around his middle. "i... i'm... s-sorry i—"

hana's voice stopped short — cut itself off with a small hiccup as ichigo pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "ya got nothin' to apologize for." his free hand returned to her head, his palm stroking gently over her hair as he listened to her sobs slowly begin to quiet. "'s fine. i don't mind."

he never minded — he hoped she knew that.

"e-even..." her head tilted up, watery eyes meeting his steady ones. "...e-even if i cry every day?"

in spite of himself — in spite of the situation — a soft chuckle escaped from the back of his throat. "yeah." he pressed a kiss to her forehead this time, ghosting hints of affection filling his features as her eyes closed softly at the feeling. "even if ya cry every day."

she sniffled softly, blinking away a few stray tears that still lingered on her eyelashes. "you promise?"

the corners of his mouth pulled upward — just slightly; just enough for the affection he felt toward her to make itself visible on his face. "yeah," he repeated, smoothing her hair back from her face and unsticking strands from her cheeks. "promise."

hana hesitated, her eyebrows momentarily drawing together before she nuzzled back into his chest, her breathing stuttering softly in her throat as the last of her panic finally subsided. for a moment, she was quiet — so quiet, save for the occasional hitched breath that cut softly through the silence, that ichigo could have assumed she had fallen asleep—

"...ichi?"

—had her voice not hit his ears a moment later.

"hm?"

"you still... love me, right...?"

a long, soft breath left ichigo's nose; as the tail end of it left his mouth, he buried his face into her hair. "'course i do."

i always will.

"...promise."

#already sent this to you earlier but i still hope it helps at least a little <3 #i've also already said it a million times but ichigo is on his way to hold you so soft in his big strong arms until you feel better 😤#mine; writing #ichigo #underg4ound

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homoqueerjewhobbit · 2 months

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Reading fetish erotica with absolutely pristine and morally upright consent and neat and tidy safer sex practices is like watching a Fast and Furious movie where they stop at every stop sign and signal for every lane change and always obey the speed limit.

#I do those things in real life #I want to read a story about some fucked up shit going down #Thx mate #post o' mine #writing

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gentlyorbiting · 11 months

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i'm the guy who writes the books that the protagonist in supernatural horror movies frantically reads somewhere in act ii. job's pretty easy. lot of "legends of vampires have recurred all throughout human history" and "demonologists agree that the quickest way to un-summon a demon is to trap it in a cursed object". no citations of course; they don't pay me citation money. i had to learn html back in the early aughts when everyone started seeking their supernatural info on websites they found via top search engines like FINDLER and WEBSIGHT but that's died down now which is great because i didn't have it in me to pick up css. currently working on a new book about horses that are evil. it's called HORSES THAT ARE EVIL in all caps so the protagonist can find it quickly to yank off the library shelf. it will be published 35 years ago.

#mine #movies #horror #writing

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eternalgirlscout · 1 year

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earlier today i told an acquaintance in passing that i'll often be in the middle of a novel and think "man i wish this shit were more ambiguous" and had to reiterate twice that i wasn't being sarcastic before they believed me, so this post is to say: i love when writers don't bother to explain everything, i love when stories end uncertain and unsettling, i love being required to think as a reader, i love when stuff makes no damn sense, no i'm not kidding

#ignore me #it's not just that unnecessary exposition is a huge pet peeve of mine tho that's part of it #i just hate being condescended to as a reader #i want writing that trusts its reader #winning tumblr roulette

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becomingvecna · 8 months

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