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yacinthemorning · 10 months

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A Nestcommunication

Summary: Tango wants to make his new soulmate comfortable in their new home. the problem is, Tango knows nothing about avians.

Ships: Jimmy/Tango (romantic)

Warnings: Miscommunications

Despite knowing several, Tango didn’t know much about avians. Sure he knew the general things one might know, they have wings – duh – and they need to preen those wings. There was something about being protective of their feathers, which affected preening, at least he thinks so. They could sing like birds, or was it a language? Tango rarely heard it and the few times he had Grian seemed notably embarrassed as though it were involuntary.

He knew the vagueries, was the point. About as much as anyone else knew about netherborn.

What he did know was that his new soulmate - his rancher – was an avian, and that there was nothing else in the world he wanted more right now than to make sure he was comfortable and taken care off.

Tango had cost them their first life, had generally made a fool of himself really, and their neighbours were not making their lives any easier. Yet Jimmy still turned to him with trust and a smile. And what a smile. Like being hit with concentrated sunshine. Physically impossible to say no to- which he didn’t. Not when Jimmy asked him to build them a house and not when he pleaded to get a horn before they’d even sorted out their basic necessities.

He certainly didn’t think twice about handing over his boots (Just iron, not gold. Not that his insistence stopped Impulse’s teasing and pointing out he was a weirdo anyways) when he found Jimmy with nothing. Nor when Jimmy – nervously plucking at the scales on his ankles - vaguely mentioned a tower would be nice and Tango immediately started collecting the resources.

Okay, so maybe Tango was already in a bit deep.

It was fine, probably. Maybe. He just wanted to make his rancher happy and comfortable, that’s completely normal. What would make him happy?

It hadn’t escaped Tango’s notice, the hesitance in Jimmy, whenever he did something avian. Like it was embarrassing, like he wanted to apologize. Not always was it very noticeable, but it was something he was beginning to pick up on after spending so much time together. It was strange. On hermitcraft they had so many hybrids and odd creatures, the attitude was quite simply that everyone else could deal with it. That was evidently not the environment Jimmy had been in. Or maybe it was because of his curse. All Tango knew was that his chirp was quite possibly the cutest thing ever to exist in all the realms, and it was heartbreaking to see Jimmy curl up in shame like he’d just reveal some deep dark secret any time one escaped. (Even if that, too, was one of the cutest sights Tango’d ever seen.)

So, Tango decided he must make the ranch – their home – somewhere warm and safe, where Jimmy can be comfortable being himself.

Except Tango didn’t know much about avian.

What did he know?

Nests. Avians built nests. Not that he’d seen one. He knew Grian had one, because Scar and Mumbo mentioned it. Jimmy never built one, though. Not in the ranch. He’d thought that was what the tower was for, but despite all the time he spent up there it remained empty. It was probably what he was used to sleeping in, right? Certainly they had enough supplies now that their sleeping arrangements could use a bit of an upgrade anyways.

Armed with the loosest of knowledge, Tango got to work.

They had plenty of feathers for the cushions, just enough wool for the curtains and mats. He tried his best, and he thought he did a pretty good job all things considered.

“I have something for you.” Tango told Jimmy when he returned home. Nervous excitement vibrated through his tail.

Just the mention of a gift seemed to make him perk up. “Really?”

“Yeah, just inside. C’mon.”

Tango expected a lot of things. He expected that maybe Jimmy would look at it and not even recognize it was supposed to be a nest. He imagined Jimmy tearing it apart and rebuilding it. Or maybe he would politely thank Tango, because he was too nice to tell him it was all wrong.

What he didn’t expect was for Jimmy to set his eyes on it, and his face immediately bloom bright red as his wings puffed up behind him. “That…”

“Sip-surprise…” Tango made jazz hands. “I, uh, I made- well, tried – I tried to make-”

“A nest?” Jimmy’s voice was a squeak. His eyes darted between the nest and Tango so fast the blazeborn could hardly keep up.

“Yeah! Yeah, uh, I did my best. I know it’s not great but…”

Jimmy gulped, pointing towards it. “This is… our nest?” Tango was starting to feel his own face heat up in embarrassment. Did he mess up?

“I mean… If you want it to be. I mean it doesn’t have to be if you don’t-”

“No! No, that’s… It’s lovely. This is just really… No one’s ever… I- I didn’t even know if you… Our nest, Gosh.” His hands clasped together as he took a deep breath in. A long trill came back out instead. “U-um. Uh, I’m sorry, could you give me a minute. I just- I-” With another trill he suddenly fled back out the door.

Tango stood in the ranch, listening to Jimmy run right into the barn. His tail jerked across the floor as he worried his lip. Was that a good reaction? He did say it was nice. Glancing between the nest and the door, he wasn’t sure what to do now.

In the end he busied himself and waited for Jimmy to get back. Hoping Jimmy would come back, really, because he still wasn’t sure he’d somehow screwed something up. More than once he considered taking it apart and perhaps just giving the supplies to Jimmy so he could build it himself.

He was along for another several hours, smelting copper, tending to the animals, eventually working on the wall. Anything to keep his mind preoccupied. The only interruption he received was a most curious whisper from Pearl of all people.

‘Look at you, mister speedy over there ;)’

Tango raised an eyebrow. He looked around until he spotted the avian woman waving at him from Cleo’s bridge. He gave an unsure wave back, for which he was rewarded with a thumbs up. Then Jimmy came barrelling out from Scott’s house and dragged her inside, holding his sister on his left like she was a shield. Tango turned attention back to the wall. Was he really working that quickly? Or was she teasing him for scaring off his soulmate already? It’s not like she had room to judge. Then again, at least she was at her soulmate’s house, while his was… well, also there. He glanced back up at the hideous little box and foot tower. Maybe he should try to spruce it up?

In the end he found himself doing his best to place down a few flowers out front.

That was where he still was when Jimmy finally returned. Tango almost didn’t notice, with how quiet he was being as he poked his head through the gate, then shuffled up the path. He had his hand clutched to his chest, refusing to look at Tango even as he approached.

“Well howdy there.” Tango tried to alleviate some of the tension. It didn’t seem to work.

“Hi…” Jimmy’s wings folded tight over his shoulders. “Could we. Sorry, could we go inside?”

Tango was already pushing the door open. “Of course.”

Jimmy seemed to tense as he went through the entryway, eyes immediately landing back on the nest. His face turned red once again, but with an oddly determined glint in his eyes he marched over to it. Sitting down seemed much harder for him, taking several seconds just to breath, but eventually he was propped up on the edge. One hand ran along the pillows and sheets. Tango joined him a moment later.

“Sorry- sorry about earlier. I was just.” Jimmy sighed. “No one’s ever done that- built a nest for me.”

“Really? That’s hard to believe.” Admitted Tango, rubbing one of the thinner sheets between his fingers.

The avian’s ears couldn’t possibly turn darker as he curled in on himself. “I mean, I guess I thought I might make one with Scott, but that never really… happened… Anyways. So, I, um, I’m sorry for running off. It was just… sudden. Unexpected.”

“It’s fine! I probably should have asked first.”

Jimmy shook his head, tightening his fist. It was then that Tango realized there was something poking out of it, hidden within his grip. Slowly his hand unravelled. “Um, I was- I wanted to give you… this…”

In his hand was a feather. Not too long, but bright - almost glowing – and clearly groomed to perfection. At the end was a small piece of metal clutching the quill, with a second loop pointed out. Tango let it be placed in his palms, where he carefully cradled it in awe. “This is…”

Jimmy let out a chirp as his wings flexed, still not quite looking at Tango.

“Are you- Really? I can have this?” More so than even Grian Jimmy seemed terribly protective of his feathers, keeping all the ones that fell out or broke somewhere not even Tango was completely sure of. Though, last time he preened he seemed hesitantly okay with Tango watching.

“Yeah… yeah. If that’s okay. If you want it.” His eyes finally flicked to Tango, hopeful despite the way his shoulders and wings had both tensed.

Tango swallowed, giving the avian a slow nod as he brought the feather close to his own chest. He hid it safely in his vest. “Thank you.”

When he looked back up Jimmy was close. Closer that Tango expected. The look in his eyes was almost too intense for Tango to bear as it ran across his face. They stared at one another, the silence dragging out while Tango’s heartbeat quickened. Finally, when he almost couldn’t take it any more, Jimmy let out a distressed chirp. His face dropped, burying into Tango’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I’m sorry! It’s just… A lot.” Jimmy said with a voice that was several octaves too high.

Unsure what to do, Tango recovered enough to give him a nervous chuckle and pat the avian on the back. “It’s okay. Today was… long. You wanna go to sleep for tonight?”

“Yes please.” Was muffled by Tango’s vest. His wings fluttered, fluffier than Tango even knew was possible.

Smiling down at the top of his rancher’s head, Tango moved to make room. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”

That night Jimmy clung to Tango. It wasn’t that odd, they’d always made a habit of cuddling in their tiny single bed, but he seemed particularly gleeful about it. In the morning he also seemed different. Peppier, openly singing a tune while he laid out breakfast. His wings fluttered happily behind him when he saw Tango get up, and again several times while they ate and talked. Tango mentally high fived himself. His birdy seemed far more comfortable, the hard work and nest were working.

Still, there was something… off. His face had seemingly taken on a permanent pink tinge. Tango thought he might be sick until he saw it fade as he went to chat with their neighbours. He almost seemed to dance around Tango after that, fumbling over his words more. Jimmy also seemed oddly determined to keep touching him, hugging him for the smallest reasons and bumping their shoulders together. It wasn’t bad, but it made Tango nervous anyways. Was what he did really worth this much attention? It felt like he was still barely making up for all the trouble he’d caused.

By the mid-afternoon Jimmy’d been forced to go off and find iron – one of them had to - and Tango ran off to try and trade Grian and Scar for their sugar cane. Instead he found himself sat down for tea, listening to Grian complain about Scar’s pandas for thirty minutes while Scar made excuses.

“So, how are you and Tim doing? He finally asked instead, clearly done with Scar’s backtalk.

“Good? I think?” Admitted the netherborn, placing a hand over the pocket where Jimmy’s feather was safely hidden in.

Grian raised an eyebrow. “You think? Everything okay?”

“He’s just been a bit off ever since I built the nest-”

“You built WHAT!” Grian’s head suddenly snapped, eyes wide. Behind him Scar whistled.

“Tango, you dog. Congratulations!”

Tango pinned back his ears, nervously glancing between the two. “Uh, thanks?”

The shock on Grian’s face morphed into a glare. “You built a nest for Tim? Already? And you just go around telling everyone? Tango I thought you were better than that!”

“What?” Tango sputtered. “What’s wrong with that!”

Scar chuckled. “Not everyone’s as private as you, Grian.”

But Grian’s glare had given way to confusion, and then horror. “Wait, you built it? How do you know how to build a nest?”

“I-I mean I don’t really. I just sort of… winged it .” Tango whispered the last bit. “I just thought it’d be nice, you know? He’s my soulmate, I wanted the ranch to be comfortable for him.”

Silence fell over the table, even Scar’s face falling slightly while his besweatered companion dropped his face into his palms.

“ Oh gosh. he doesn’t know.”

Tango’s hair was beginning to flicker. “What? Is it- am I not allowed to? Is that an avian thing only?” Jimmy seemed more than fine with it, did it matter if it was?

“Tango.” Grian groaned. He leaned over the table, nearly knocking over his tea, so he could look the blazeborn straight in the eye. “Tango, think. Why do you think avians and birds build nests to begin with?”

“To… sleep?” He shrugged, hunching down into his chair like a scolded child.

Grian exploded. “To nest , Tango! To court a mate ! So that they can-“

“Wh- wait, hold up!” Tango squeaked as he fell back, shoving the hysterical avian out of his face. Scar stepped in, picking Grian up and pushing him back down into his seat against Grian’s own protest. Silence once again fell, this time a glare and apologetic smile baring down on Tango as the cogs in his brain began to turn. With each passing second his face darkened, until he had to bury his face into his hands. “Wait. So. When I-“

“ Yes .” Grian hissed.

“And so he thought-“

“So it seems.” Wisely nodded Scar.

A squeal like a cross between a steaming kettle and a balloon escaped Tango as it all clicked into place. “Oh no… Wait, so, then what-” He fumbled with himself for a second, eventually managing to open up the pocket of his vest and pull out the little feather.

Grian let out an unholy noise only a dying parrot could hope to make. “ WHAT!”

“Um, he gave it to me last night when he came home. I-is it- That’s probably another, um, important thing, isn’t it, then?” He tried to smile, but cringed further back as Grian let out another screech.

“I swear to the void Tango if you don’t go find Jimmy right this second and clear this up with him before he gets any more wrong ideas I’m going to shove a golden apple down your throat and end your game right here myself-”

“ What Grian means to say ,” Scar shouted over top of his soulmate. “Is that you should probably go find Tim sooner rather than later and have a bit of a talk.”

“Y-yeah…” Tango scrambled to his feet, still clutching the feather close to his chest. Grian didn’t seem to like that much either, but Tango was too much in a state of shock to worry about him anymore. He muttered a goodbye and started the dazed walk home, mind both running a mile a minute and also completely unable to retain a single thought. What on earth was he supposed to say in a situation like this?

He got home and sent Jimmy a message to come back before he could chicken out. Sooner rather than later.

With his newfound enlightenment he couldn’t bring himself to linger on the nest he made for them. Instead he kept his attention on Jimmy’s feather, carefully twirling it between his fingers, examining it far closer than he’d gotten the chance to last night.

It really was a beautiful feather, though Tango would argue all Jimmy’s feathers were gorgeous. It was clear though, that it had been carefully selected, lovingly preened, and the metalwork on the end was delicately shaped. Jimmy had let him know that morning that it was so he could choose how to wear it himself. How long of his time out yesterday was spent preparing the little gift?

Tango didn’t know he was smiling until the door creaked open and interrupted his thoughts. “Tango?” Called Jimmy, eyes darting around the room until they landed on the blazeborn sat at their dinner table. One of those blinding smiles stretched across his face, joined by a glow to his cheeks that Tango was starting to think he enjoyed just as much.

Then enjoy it while it lasts. You’re probably about to wipe it all away.

Void, he really couldn’t stop messing things up for his soulmate, could he?

“Hey, sunshine.” Tango croaked out as he stood up to meet his rancher. He got a whole armful as Jimmy wrapped him up in a big hug, as if they hadn’t seen each other in weeks. With a bit of hesitance Tango returned it, melting a bit at the soft chirp Jimmy made when he ran a hand along his back. Reluctantly they parted, and the hard part began. “Could we, um, sit down?” He tilted his head towards the nest he still couldn’t quite bring himself to look at.

Jimmy’s smile faltered, seemingly finally picking up on how tense Tango was. “Sure. Is… Everything okay?”

Tango nodded as he guided them to sit down. “Uh, I mean it’s not bad but... There’s just some things I wanted to talk about. About yesterday and… This.” He waved noncommittally towards the nest.

All at once his wings tensed in towards his body while he pulled his hands away from Tango. He resisted the urge to reach out for them. “Oh…”

“Yeah… Yeah, um-“

“I’m really sorry.” Jimmy stammered out, no wringing his hands. “I, um, I know I probably messed up the moment.”

Tango’s eyes widened, “Wh- no-“

“It was just a lot, you know? All at once. Gosh, yesterday morning I didn’t even know that you- I… I never thought there was any way you would feel the same way as me. It was overwhelming.”

“No- no, I get it. That’s not-” Tango let out a frustrated growl as e tried to calm his panicked heart. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, I should have asked you first before I made something like this. I wasn’t even…”

Jimmy quirked a smile. “I know you probably weren’t expecting to go very far right then and there. But I was too fried to even kiss you.”

“That’s not it, Jimmy. I didn’t know what I was doing when I built it, I didn’t mean it that way.”

The avian’s smile fell away, head shooting up to look at Tango. He could see Jimmy working through his words, could see as those thoughts began to go dark, and rushed to explain.

“I just- No, no, I do! I do like you! Maybe even- but I wanted to make you feel safe and happy, and I thought- well, I didn’t think, I guess. I don’t know much of anything about avians, but I wanted to make the ranch more of a home and I just made it cause I thought that’s what would help. Not that… I mean not to say I mind. Man, do I not mind . I just… I wouldn’t have wanted to just drop that on you without asking first and… You know, make you think I wanted to go from zero to a hundred out of nowhere.”

Tango ran his claws through his burning hair and sighed. “So, yeah, I’m just an idiot. I don’t know if that’s better or worse than what you must have thought of me. Probably worse, I’m sorry.”

Jimmy had gone quiet, staring into his own lap. At some point his wings had sagged out across the nest. Tango waited, trying desperately to calm his sparks while the silence dragged on. A hand rose up, holding itself out towards the blazeborn. It took him a moment before he realized it was intended for the feather he was still clutching in his one hand. Tango throat tightened up. He willed himself not to make a further fool of either of them, giving the feather one last press to his chest before relinquishing it to its rightful owner.

Jimmy brought it back down to his own lap, examining it for a second before his talons got to work smoothing out the barbs frayed by Tango’s rough grip. Once it was again pristine he finally raised his head up with a shaky breath. “Okay then.”

His whole body turned in towards Tango as much as it could, and pulled forward Tango’s far limb to turn him in as well. Jimmy’s gaze was fragile - eyes a bit too glossy and trying to keep the quiver out of his lip – but he kept it locked. “Tango.”

“Y-yeah?” His voice cracked.

Jimmy took another deep breath, speaking a bit too fast. “I know we haven’t been soulmates for very long, and there’s still a lot we don’t know about each other, but I want to. You’re so sweet and kind to me. You don’t make jokes about me, you’re so encouraging, even when neither of us know what we’re doing, and you never let me feel alone in my stupidity. You’re so smart and even though we have barely anything you make it feel like we have everything in the world. I really like you.”

Tango swallowed the lump in his throat.

“I- I think I might love you.” Jimmy barely managed to squeak out. “Or… Or, at least, I could.No, I do. I think I do.”

He nodded, “I think- I think I love you, too, Jimmy.”

His rancher’s face lit up. “Okay… Well, Okay. Okay. Then, um…”

He held up the feather. The poor plume was shaking in his grasp. “Well, Mister Tango of the non-avian variety-”

“Hey!”

“- In avian culture we have this tradition.” Jimmy’s voice gave way to a laugh, instantly easing the tension. Tango dares to quirk a grin. The rest of his words seemed to come a bit easier. “Where if you care for someone and would like to court them, you give them the first feather.”

“The first?” Tango asked, eyebrow raised.

“Yes, the first feather. Avian’s wings are, um, I think Grian would call them sacred, but that seems like a rather scary term for it. They’re important, is the point. And so, so are the feathers. The only ones who can touch them are flock, and mates treat each other’s feathers like their own. So, this is the first shared feather, the first of hopefully many.”

Jimmy licked his lips, wings flitting for emphasis as he held the feather out. “So, uh… Would you- Could I please give you this feather? As part of that.”

Sucking in his breath, Tango hesitantly laid his hand over Jimmy’s. He grasped the feather, but did not take it right away. “Are you sure? That you want to give this to me, even after… All of everything?”

For the first time in what was likely only minutes but felt like centuries, that sunshine smile returned to Jimmy’s face as he nodded a bit too vigorously. “If you’ll still have it, you’re the only one I would want to give it to.”

And Tango took the feather. This time he didn’t wait, searching his inventory until he found string and tied the precious yellow plume around his neck. He stared at it for another second more before fully turning all his attention on the preening birdy in front of him.

Asking permission with an outreached hand which was eagerly accepted, Tango pulled Jimmy in close. This time Jimmy happily- and eagerly – closed the last gap. It was a short kiss, hardly more than a peck, but one Tango didn’t know how much he’d been craving until he had it. It was punctuated b a small chirp that made Tango respond with a similar little noise before going in for another kiss.

For a while they sat there holding each other, not saying much of anything, enjoying the relief while the adrenaline of two days of too much washed out of them. Only when their eyes began to droop did Tango interrupt. “Uh, I should… I guess maybe I should clean this up?” He said, nodding towards the nest.

Jimmy gave it a once over, then shrugged and pulled Tango closer before flopping both down onto the sheets. He smiled. “It’s fine, it’s better than that tiny little thing we had before, and you worked so hard on it.” His smile turned a bit cheeky, a bit shy. “Besides, um, Well, one day it might be more fitting, I hope.”

Tango smirked back. “Grian is going to have a fit if he comes over and sees it.”

“Sounds like more than a good enough reason to keep it, then.”

“You’re not the one he’s going to clobber!”

“I don’t think he has much choice given his own game mechanic.”

Soft chuckles quickly faded as both men began to doze away. Tango pulled Jimmy closer, burying his nose in his rancher’s shoulder. Tomorrow, he decided, he would ask more about avians, and maybe explain some nether things as well. He could already feel the itch in his hand to make. For now, he just let himself dream about all the things they would share.

#tangotek #jimmy solidarity #team rancher #rancher duo #trafficshipping #mcyt #traffic series #double life smp #fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #comedy #hurt/comfort #sharing a cupcake

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the-bjd-community-confess · 6 months

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Hello, Anon, this is your Oldie Chinese Diaspora Anon™️. I am sorry to keep you waiting. As you’ve probably noticed, vinyl and non-resin dolls are usually not my forte. It took a while to dig up some information for you, but I hope to be able to answer your questions.

The advent of “Cheaper, affordable MJDs” didn’t come from the desire to make BJDs affordable. In fact, the technology that really elevated the production of this kind of MJDs started from what we understand as vinyl collectibles. These small figurines are made from a combination of PVC powders as well as a series of other emulsifiers, lubricators and activators (From the factory that produces them, here: http://www.dgzhonglinhb.com/news_content-859681.html ) Different companies have slightly different recipes, which would explain the different pliability of their final products. The technology was first created as a way to create memorabilia that are of limited edition and they were first considered as collectibles. They’re known internally as “Urbanvinyls” and include signed trinkets that can go for hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. Some examples would be KAWS, Kidrobot, Tokidoki, Bearbrick etc.

With the rise of “Made in China” soft power, the internally patriotic sentiment had fostered local artist-designed vinyl collectibles, which had eventually ballooned into the blind box craze that we see in the last 4-5 years. It also opened a door for vinyl/PVC based MJDs. I do not think they were specifically made to usurp the DD/SmD market, but since “moe sells”, a lot of the new doll companies go with the cute, anime-inspired aesthetic while the blind boxes cater to more design elements. These newly designed MJDs tend to be small, usually 1/12 and 1/6; larger ones exist, but they are rare. In all, they are created to be much more like their direct inspiration, the “blind box collectibles” than what we would usually consider to be articulated dolls. It also meant their target demographic is very different as well. The lower price point allows more people to impulse buy out of FOMO; these are things you buy on a whim instead of saving up to buy.

In this arena, Imómó is not alone in terms of aesthetic, pricing or packaging. Other companies in this group include Hüa Jüan, Tïny Fóx, UFdóll, CNDóll, Kimdóll, Pópmilk, Mónst and the upcoming YünLai/LückyDoll, etc (but not YMY – who has lost a battle with Piccodo for copying their body design recently). These dolls are created with a higher number in circulation in mind – but still limited enough to stimulate the FOMO behaviour – with shared features (sharing bodies, design elements, etc). To keep the production cost down, these dolls would be considered rather threadbare compared to BJDs. I have seen box opening videos where the floating “blind box” heads were packaged in a brown shipping box and wrapped around in clear plastic bags with no other packaging material. The “accessories” for these dolls are usually close to none as well – no or very simple COAs, basic box, air-filled tubes instead of fabric cushions, etc.A snapshot in time in online stores shows that Imómó is definitely not an outlier in the new era of MJDs: https://weibo.com/1448114577/Nj9fqfog3

https://www.dollyteria.com/product-list/58?page=1

If there’s something that really made Imómó stand out, it was the rumours that spread within Chinese doll collectors earlier in the summer of 2023 about the company not issuing legitimate receipts (usually with the intention to cook their books to pay less in taxes). They accuse Imómó of being a “Three Nothings” company (no date of manufacture, no QC and no source factory) with really awful customer service. They had registered the company as an “overseas-based” one so they would be in a different tax bracket. Some collectors also accuse the owner and their family members infiltrating doll collector groups to hype up their own products and downplay the complaints. A popular agent, SWDólls, were also implicated in helping them to not issue traceable receipts. (Details and screen grabs can be found here: https://weibo.com/7303299294/N8lHE6wGE?type=repost ) I have also heard of owners who complain about the parts not fitting well, the seamlines were wide and uneven as well as other imperfections that should’ve never passed QC, if there was a QC.

I understand that most of us, who are looking in from the outside, would wholly welcome a new era of articulated dolls that are affordable. They are a great entry point for people who want to get into BJDs or just want to collect these dolls on their own. I personally think they are great the way they are, because they are starting to populate a brand-new market for people who like dolls in general. However, the first company that most folks encounter in this group was probably Imómó. I cannot comment on the accusations made by the Chinese collectors; all I can say is, I am hoping that the other named companies start to make headway into the overseas market. We’d been waiting.

Note: The write up here didn’t include previously existing vinyl dolls such as Azóne and Obitsü or the vinyl versions of resin dolls such as Kinókó Jüice and Püyüdolls. This write-up only includes MiC, PVC-based, original, MJDs. My understanding is that they are not on par with the company in question in terms of price range, target market and country of origin. I didn’t think they’d make for a fair comparison, but your mileage may vary.

~Anonymous

#BJD #ABJD #BJD Confessions #Community Confessions #MJD #blindbox #HJD #Other Dolls #Knowledge Anon

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mikiyochii · 11 months

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Fiore will be for adoption on Sunday, 4th of June, 6 p.m. CEST GMT (18.00 h / German timezone).

Important: Please send me an email along with your country for estimate shipping costs if you want to adopt her. I don’t answer mails before the written date and time.

Email: [email protected]

First come, first save. No reservations.

All mails between 6 and 7 p.m. will be answered (even if you don’t get the doll). Please understand that I don’t answer mails after 7 p.m. anymore. If the doll is not sold in this time I will notice it on FB and Instagram.

I don’t response to mails which are not about adopting this doll.

Fiore will come with… - herself (MIO kit fair skin - Body/Head/Eyemech) - Face up and carving on mouth and nose by me, Mikiyochii, with new eyelashes - Certificate of birth - Beautiful Eyechips by Pikarina - Blond Mohair Wig by Leekeworld - Outfit by The Rover (includes: headband, 2-pcs dress, socks) - Necklace by me - Shoes by Obitsu/Parabox - Wooden box with cushions for a safely trip - some little extras~

Before buying the doll, please note: - the face up is handpainted and therefore it may have some flaws - handle the doll and the outfit carefully as it may contain delicate items - NO doll stand inclusive - the wig is mohair (natural wig) and some hairs may naturally be loose - the wig is not glued and only fixed with wig stoppers; However, you can always glue the wig with a waterbased glue - Layaway is possible (max. 3 times within 3 months; first payment must be 250 € and is non-refundable). - shipping worldwide (within Germany 7 € / within EU 16 € / Outside EU from 50 €+) - payment must be in EURO

PRICE: 700 Euro All prices incl. taxes and paypal fees. Shipping usually within 5-7 business days.

#doll #pullip #custom #faceupartist #customdoll #pullip full custom

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silverinkbottle · 2 months

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Chapter 3: Promises

Summary: Well, the secret is out.

Chapter 2 <-

Chapter 4 ->

A/N: A long awaited update as I get back into the swing of writing! Please enjoy!

Word Count: 4K

It’s said in life that two things are certain; death and taxes. At this point death was preferable to the seemingly endless mound of paperwork thrown haphazardly over the small tea table. Now ‘taxes’ was the ‘polite’ word for the numerous purses of beli that would land in select Marine pockets. While running the floating brothel wasn’t illegal, but it wasn’t legal in the strictest of senses either. These taxes would be used to have heads turn away from the occasional merchant captain robbed blind after a night of whoring and drinking. It all made sense, but at the same time it was so much fucking paperwork as your quill slashed your signature harshly over another line.

Gently placing the finished paper in the miniscule pile next to the chaos, you couldn’t help but sprawl back against the plush end cushion of the couch. Pressing the palms of your hands to your throbbing eyes as you could feel another headache starting to creep up on you. Stress, this bullshit and a pitiful amount of sleep was a poor combination. Not to mention the start of cabin fever as you all but ordered to be left alone during your hellish session of bureaucracy. Your mood darkening with each passing hour punctuated by barked demands for another bottle of wine. Drinking would make the task less painful but worsen the quality of your work. Joan’s solution was to water down the bottles before their arrival to your cabin, the obvious trick did little to temper your lashing tongue.

Maybe you should find an accountant. It would save you the headache,but cost beli, time and worst of all make the ship remain docked for who knows how long. The floating brothel ran on a migratory path with little interruptions to its flow. New docks and islands meant new customers to empty their pockets into the coffers. Not to mention gave the crew less chances to cause too much trouble. You couldn’t help but grimace as a few select encounters with locals drifted through your memory. Who knew the wives of fishermen could have such deadly aims with cast iron.

No. It was for the best that you continue this mind numbing task. Without wine or anything to make it less painful to trudge through. Perhaps Joan would be lenient to the request for a single glass of whiskey. It was as if the gods were listening as there was the smallest knock on your door.

“Enter.”

“Is this really all you managed so far?” Joan scolded as she stomped into the room doing her best impression of a maid as she tried to organize the fire hazard in front of you. A hiss escaping her lips as she scanned over one of the documents with the crinkle between her eyebrows sinking with each passing line.

“You forgot to carry the two, here on line eight. Also here-”

“Do I LOOK like an accountant? Joan, it’s not like-” Your snarl tampered out as your face flushed keenly aware of the third party witnessing two grown women bickering like schoolgirls. Only a single day had gone by, but there he was in the flesh. That hint of a smile that you had grown to adore threatening to appear when you snatched the offending document from your first mate.

“Don’t stop on my accord.” Mihawk said as he too joined the inspection of the documentation as you did your best to improve the bird’s nest of paperwork without outright panicking. He hadn’t seen you in this state before, the distressed Proprietor going through the mundane tasks of business.

“You can leave us now, Joan.”

“Because there aren’t distractions in front of you now. Perhaps I should trade the present one for a bottle of wine like you asked for earlier. I imagine your productivity will be at an all time high..” Joan drawled as she quickly took the small pile of finished documents into her arm before departing with a roll of her eyes and the slam of your door.

“That delightful mood seems to have infested the entire crew. What happened in the last twenty-four hours that I have been gone. Another fight at the Baratie? It can’t be that those are as common as-”

“Paperwork, Mihawk, Paperwork. My style of piracy isn’t exactly simple.” You muttered as you sank back down against the edge of the couch. Managing a small smile as gentle fingers brushed over your hair and the feather-like kiss on your forehead. He was less gentlemanly as he pushed your legs off the couch to take their place. He looked exhausted as his body sagged against the soft fabric with a sigh.

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon. Or else I would have put this off.” You admitted quietly as one golden eye cracked open at your voice. It was sweet in its own odd way as you knew the man’s insomnia was a benefit and bane to his lifestyle. Making seafaring faster, but at the cost of his health.

“Why would I delay my return in favor of idleness.” Mihawk hummed as you let out a small yelp in surprise as he moved to hover over your stiff form. Caught between the couch and his arms, you couldn’t help but feel the smallest amount of guilt and could see obvious signs of sleep deprivation. The faintest bags under his eyes, his sigh of relief to your touch as you brushed over the stubble on his cheeks. Human, he looked so human in this moment as you gently removed his hat with a single flick of your wrist.

“Now that you’re back. Sleep. You look exhausted now-”

You couldn’t help but flinch as the man took full opportunity in making himself comfortable on your thighs. His prickly face rubbing against your stomach as he stared up at you all but radiating smugness and content as you tried to find the right words.

“The bed is perfectly empty. Laundered-”

“You aren’t in it. Makes it pointless.” Mihawk yawned as he retrieved his dropped hat and placed it on his face to block out the lights in the room. His fingers edged along your stomach but went slack within seconds. The gentle puffs of his breath were all you needed to hear. Asleep, he was dead asleep. At least his hat made a decent stand to hold your papers as you cautiously set to work once more.

Despite Joan’s predictions, Mihawk’s presence didn’t hinder your workflow. He improved it as the tense atmosphere of the room seemed to dissipate within the hour. The weight on your lower half is like a comfortable weighted blanket that makes the smallest of movements if you shifted an inch. Even asleep, Mihawk’s senses were honed to a fine point, it made sense given his solo style of travel, he had to be aware within seconds of danger. It was only when he was with you that he truly seemed to sleep. A rare gift from the fearsome Warlord with the lone wolf reputation.

“Whatever am I going to do with you, Dracule Mihawk.” You muttered as the mere infliction of your voice seemed to stir him into action. You forced yourself to remain still as strong hands spread over your stomach as if to answer. Or was it to keep you still, the warlord’s personal bed for the time being. Regardless, you were quite stuck as if you had a fearsome tom cat on your lap that would protest if you moved in an inch. Or perhaps a panther was far more accurate as a smile flickered over your lips at the idea. There were such Devil Fruits out there right? Mixing human features with that of animals. A silken black coated panther would suit your lover quite well.

A mere hour passed in a blink of the eye as the daunting pile of paperwork trickled away as you scratched off one final signature with a flourish of your quill. Carefully easing the paperwork off your make-shift stand as you tried to maneuver yourself without jostling Mihawk. It was a pyrrhic victory as you managed to toss the paperwork onto the tea table but at the cost of losing ground with Mihawk. Now you were a sufficient pillow as his face pressed against your breasts, your body pinned beneath him as immobile as a boulder. It was only by chance that you managed to comfortably recline your head against the couch end as you could feel your eyes getting heavier with each second. A nap wouldn't be so terrible would it?

Alarm bells rang in your head a mere hour later as a rough impatient voice came from behind your bedroom door. Your heartbeat turned into a stuttering mess as bleary eyes caught sight of the time. Five o clock, you had scheduled a meeting to discuss financial dues with the captain of the Baratie, all planned before Mihawk’s sudden arrival. Or the compromised position as your thudding heartbeat stirred the swordsman, if only to comfort you as his grip on your waist tightened. Were you ready to face the reality of going public as Paramour? Yes, but no. The two truths wrestled in your mind as you found yourself facing an impossible trap.

Rouse Mihawk from his sleep, debating with him over hiding. Shit, it was a headache waiting to happen as any arguing would easily eclipse the thinness of the door. Or diplomatically attempt to dissuade the short-tempered chef from entering your domain with some paltry excuse. Fuck, if it was over anything but financial dues you could have had a chance. Zeff was steel-fisted with beli as you were. It was something you could agree on. Afterall the arrangement between the brothel and restaurant was flourishing after a few sessions.

“I know you’re in there, you tight fisted brat. Don’t try to sneak out on this. Your fucking crew drank a premium barrel of booze under the impression some charlatan had a thicker purse than expected. I expect recompensation-”

“Fuck.” Your word came out in a hushed hiss as you tried to find the right excuse to dissuade the ex-pirate from resorting to less polite methods of diplomacy. Your agitation was palpable as you could see faint lines crinkling on Mihawk’s face threatening to rip from whatever dream he had to be enjoying.

“Mihawk.” Your address came out in a low breath as you tried to maneuver yourself out from under his heavier frame. It was like trying to pick shattered bones from a cooked fish, near impossible as his grip on your waist went steely. Reluctant to give up his extraordinarily comfortable pillow. Your breasts threatened to spill out of the loose blouse with each wiggle as you smothered a noise when calloused fingers curled around the right one. As if the simple touch would soothe you. Instead of making things worse as you could feel your heart leap into your throat as another all too familiar voice came from behind the door.

“Joan said something about paperwork. Let her be, old man. Don’t start trying to lecture on diligence, I have caught you plenty of times napping curled up with a bottle of scotch instead of pen and ink.” Sanji warned as you could hear Zeff’s scoff of disbelief. You could all but imagine his mustache starting to tick as his patient began to count down.

“Mihawk, wake up.” Your voice dared rise in pitch as you could feel your face flush at the close proximity from your face to his. On top of the accidental groping as a sigh slipped from the swordsman as he tried to rouse himself from sleep. Fuck, that was another problem the swordsman had, if he was in this dead of sleep it was like trying to pull a gleaming coin from the depths of the ocean. It took time especially without a sense of urgency.

Whatever gods were listening to you today seemed to grant boons, but were all too quick to take them away as there was a distinct crack of wood. It was like the world shifted into slow motion as your voice died in your throat. Along with the crumpled remains of your privacy as a fuming Zeff stumbled into the room, followed by an irritated Sanji scolding his mentor without hesitation. About the matters of lady’s privacy that turned into a stuttered mess as the pair saw your compromised position.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The explicits bounced around your brain as you did your best to fight the crimson stain of your complexion. The secret was out and the fallout lashed out within seconds as Sanji’s misguided chivalry sprang into action.

“Let go, you leech.” Sanji barked, allowing his foot to strike out over the table. Aiming to lash out at Mihawk’s half-awake expression that turned icy as his hand caught the tempered kick with a single sigh. The off-balanced chef startled backward onto the floor with a scowl.

“Mihawk, don’t do any-” Your warning was cut off by a heated kiss as Mihawk’s hand curled around your blouse, pulling you to him as you could feel bare air hit your chest. The kiss ended a moment later as Sanji’s kick smashed through your tea table. Papers scattered about as you let out a small shriek of rage.

“Is now really the time!” You snarled as the two duelists confronted one another with an exchange of blows. Sanji on the offense as he tried to buckle Mihawk’s left knee, only for the polished move to slam into a vase of flowers. Baiting Sanji to move closer and closer to Yoru, left stationed by the bed. You were quick to intercept the path of destruction as you held your arms out blocking the swordsman from his blade.

“Not on my ship.” You hissed as Mihawk stumbled back with a grunt as Sanji’s blow landed against his forearm. You could all but imagine the potential destruction the blade could wreak on your small vessel. It wouldn’t last more than a few slashes regardless of how deep they went into its’ core.

“Madam, you’re..” Sanji’s address came out in a surprised, no, shocked tone as your upper half was on display. Breasts and all as the crescent bite marks peeked out from your hips, accompanying a splattered display of purpled markings spotted here and there on your skin.

“Too late to mark your territory, you insolent little puppy.” Mihawk hissed as you could almost taste the venom in his words. Jealousy and sleep deprivation did little to improve his impression of the flirtatious waiter. At least he compromised with your blocking of Yoru, settling for a sharpened letter opener instead as Sanji dodged backwards from an errant swing. Mihawk wasn’t awake and controlled, it was more so the equivalent of rousing a hibernating bear from the depths of winter.

In short. Sanji was his singular target as the apprentice cook hastily retreated. Followed close behind by Mihawk’s wrath down the hall. Each sound of splintering wood made your cringe as you ran your hands over your face. Papers had been strewn across the floor, the door kicked off its hinges and worst of all, an amused Zeff stood at the center of the room. Like a cat that snuck into the cream as you wretched on a robe. Its sheer material did little to hide the torn blouse, but it was better than nothing in the emerging situation.

“So. A Warlord is it?” Zeff teased as you tried to stalk past him with what little dignity you had left.

“OH FUCK YOU OLD MAN.” You screeched as you were quick to follow after the carnage. Curses spilling from your lips with each passing second. Wood planks kicked in, almost cut in half and the social chaos blooming ahead. Shrieks and protesting grunts of prostitutes, clients and the like as you could all but feel your reputation starting to drop into the sea. All because two men decided a ship was the perfect place to have a fucking pissing contest.

You needed reinforcements and quickly. Your half laced boots slammed open the door to Joan’s room as she looked up from her book with little surprise. Her prone ‘furniture’, a nude sailor bound and gagged, made muffled comments as you were quick to point out to the hall. Joan closed her book with a sigh, barking into the hall for someone to come watch her client. Then she too joined the hunt, tossing you a pistol from her dresser as you sheepishly left your quarters without anything to back up your fury.

You weren’t the first spectator on deck as a crowd of crew spectated the duel with visible interest. You were less than gentle elbowing your way to the front as you raised your pistol in the air. The burst of smoke and gunpowder at least dispersed the crowd as it meant you were serious. This stupidity ended now.

“Trouble managing your personal life it seems. Oi, Sanji you need to watch your right flank son. Your liver would have been bleeding out by now if he was actually taking it seriously.” Zeff barked as Sanji let out a hiss of pain seconds later. Mihawk did exactly as Zeff predicted, dragging the tip of the letter opener over the right side of Sanji’s shirt. Crimson flowers of bloom trickled from the wound as Sanji’s right foot arced over Mihawk’s head. The swordsman’s free hand caught it as the blade in his occupied hand poised over his achilles tendon. All it would take was one laceration and the cook would be limping for the next year.

There was a defiant click of the pistol as multiple shots rang in the air. Now you were starting to see red as Sanji managed to twist out of Mihawk’s grasp, clocking Mihawk in the side of the head. Now the swordsman’s movement aimed to cripple as Sanji was once again forced on the defense, narrowly skirting out of the way.

“Oh fuck this.” You snarled as the pistol clattered to the deck as you put yourself between the pair. A beyond stupid move as you swallowed harshly, the tip of letter opener mere centimeters from your throat. It’s path would have pierced Sanji’s foot that was hastily diverted lower lest he strike your face. It couldn’t stop its trajectory completely as inertia struck your ribs. A soft ‘oh’ slipped from your lips as pain radiated from fractured bone.

“He fucking kicks like a donkey, you should be proud, Zeff.” You wheezed out as your face drained of color as adrenaline fled in favor of the radiating pain. Mihawk’s hand quickly applied pressure as you tried to even out your breathing. Fighting for the next word as Sanji tried to reach out in apology.

“Get the fuck off my ship. Both you and Zeff. We’re done here.`` You hissed through clenched teeth as Zeff bristled in defiance. It was met with a shrill whistle as there was audible drawing of blades, readying of guns as Joan leaned over the railing of the upper deck.

“Be thankful for my Paramour’s grace.” Mihawk growled as you could all but feel each of fingers on your left gently probing for fragments of bone. Yet his glare could have struck both men down as Zeff gave a bark of laughter.

“Paramour is it. Really digging yourself in deep there, girl.”

“Is it true, Ma-”

“As true as the fact you just fractured three or four of my ribs. Sanji, that is quite the congratulations.” You hissed as you tried to take a deep breath, staggering forward as you did. Mihawk was quick to catch you by the waist as you braced yourself against his chest. Your cheeks were ruddied from pain and embarrassment. A complex mess of emotions as you could see some of the spark in Sanji’s gaze flicker out. He meant well, in his own misguided way. But holy shit, did your ribs hurt. Now wasn’t the time for gentle gloves and easy words.

“I’ll let Cooke know you’ll be arriving shortly.” Joan called out as you winced in response. It wasn’t from the pain alone. No, it was the fact that the grouchy cook was going to lord this over you. That you decided to go into a dog scrap and got bit for your troubles.

The whispers started as soon as the ship began its unexpected departure at full sail. You could all but predict the conversations at hand that wouldn't dare be uttered in your presence. Was it all true? Had you been engaging in a secret affair with the apprentice chef too? Did the Warlord intend to remain on the ship? How would that deter clients? What about their bottom line?

“Bunch of fucking vultures, I swea-” Your rant was cut off by a sharp yelp as the bandages around your ribs tensed around the injury. It was times like these you wished that you had an actual doctor on board instead of a hacksaw type cook that would rather amputate a limb than allow for a chance of infection. Or in this case, tape you up like a trussed bird readying for the oven.

“Don’t use that language around me girl, you won’t be the first silly twit to intervene in a duel over some sanctified attempt of-”

“Would you rather I let them stupidly cause more damage to my ship.” You snapped as the old woman’s wrinkled mouth puckered. Her hands were far less gentle for the remaining wrapping as her gray eyes flickered over to a guarded Mihawk.

“You brought him aboard, you take care of the issue. Bad enough we get the occasional pack of dogs for clients, no, you just had to claim a wolf as a personal pet. Warlords are trouble, Captain. Gonna bring the Marin-”

“I’ll be handling any complications with the Marines. You have my word, Cooke.” Mihawk rumbled as the old woman huffed at the response. You would have laughed at the woman’s sour expression if it didn’t feel your ribs were on fire at a mere breath, laughing would be out of the question.

“Now, you-” Her long nails jabbed at your forehead.

“And you-” Another gesture to Mihawk who tipped his head to the side with mock attention.

“No rigorous activity for the next few days. You don’t need to make the fracture worse.” Cooke explained with a roguish grin as she finished her wrapping with a final tap of her knuckles against the thick bandages.

“Cooke, you-”

“Of course.” Mihawk smoothly interjected over your protests and was quick to lead you from the galley. His touch was gentle as he eased you down onto the couch. A tick of impatience in his eyes as the mess of the room was hastily swept up by crew members. By far the most tedious process was listening to the whining of hinges as maintenance workers bickered over measurements and the like. Only reaching a compromise when Mihawk’s murderous gaze settled on them after one too many squeaks of the hinges.

You couldn’t help but melt into the plush couch as blissful silence took over your quarters. Alone, finally you were alone with your thoughts. Well, almost as your eyes widened in surprise as Mihawk’s lips chased after yours. Gentle hands easing into you into his lap as you whined into his mouth. Half from want and the other from pain as your aching ribs protested the action.

“You said it.” Mihawk muttered against your throat. Almost inaudible, but his fingers curling over the gifted dove brooch was all you needed to guess.

“I did. Now we are already dealing with the consequences.” You huffed as Mihawk’s laugh sent goosebumps down your back. What else did you expect? A quiet and peaceful life after this.

Not by a long shot, after all you were the Paramour of a Warlord.

#opla x reader #opla mihawk #opla fanfiction #fanfiction #x reader fic #x reader #mihawk x reader

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shannaraisles · 2 years

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Uncommon Words Prompt List

You know the drill - send a number and a character, ‘ship, or combination of characters, as indicated by the tags, for a prompt fill!

Nemophilist (n) - one who is fond of the forest; one who haunts the woods

Numinous (adj) - the sensation of being overwhelmed and inspired, typically a spiritual experience

Talisman (n) - object believed to bring good luck or protection

Ingenue (v) - a young woman considered naive and/or innocent

Weltschmerz (n) - feeling as though the sadness of the world is reflected in yourself

Mudita (n) - taking delight in the happiness of others

Vellichor (n) - the strange wistfulness of used book shops

Schwellenangst (n) - the fear of crossing a threshold to something new (literal or figurative)

Timorous (adj) - scared, fearful, or shy

Accismus (n) - the act of masking desire with disinterest

Fuscous (adj) - of a dark or sombre colour

Eleutheromania (n) - an intense and irresistible desire for freedom

Drapetomania (n) - the strong desire to run away

Monachopsis (n) - the subtle persistent feeling of being out of place

Exculpate (v) - to clear of guilt or fault

Balter (v) - to dance without skill but with enjoyment

Sonder (n) - the realisation that those around you also live complex and vivid lives

Paucity (n) - a lack or scarcity

Fractious (adv) - bad-tempered, difficult to control

Riparian (adj) - next to or near a river or wetland

Abendrot (adj) - the red of an evening sky as the sun sets

Uhtceare (n) - the anxiety you feel when you wake up unexpectedly just before dawn

Serendipity (n) - to find something good without looking for it

Nyctophilia (n) - a love of the night and darkness

Diaphanous (v) - delicate, light, translucent

Apricate (v) - to bask in sunshine in winter

Brumous (adj) - of grey skies and winter days, filled with heavy clouds or fog

Tintinnabulation (n) - the ringing or tinkling of bells

Lionise (v) - to treat someone as a hero

Agastopia (n) - the act of admiring a specific part of someone’s body

Abidtory (n) - a place into which you can disappear

Pyrrhic (adj) - a victory that comes at too high a cost

Fernweh (n) - a longing to be somewhere else, a place that can be real or fictional

Torschlusspanik (n) - the feeling that time is running out to complete a task or accomplishment

Apprivoise (adj) - to get to know someone through small moments

Sonrisa (n) - a smile

Whiffle (v) - the sound a sword makes as it is flourished through the air, usually in sword dancing

Pot-valor (n) - the courage that comes from drinking alcohol

Astrophile (n) - someone who loves the stars

Camanhaich (n) - early morning or twilight, the half-light at the beginning or end of the day

Gumusservi (n) - moonlight shining on water

Snuggery (n) - a small room filled with comfortable things, usually cushions or pillows

Susurrous (n) - soft sound, such as buzzing or humming

Redamancy (n) - the act of loving someone who loves you back

#uncommon words prompts #oc - gisela trevelyan #oc - florian trevelyan #oc - alise trevelyan #oc - maxwell trevelyan #oc - evelyn trevelyan #as yet they have no ships #so i am very open to try them with anyone #also will happily write inter-sibling transactions

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rmhashauthor · 10 months

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"Pet", fiction in 4 parts - Part 2

Part 1 can be found here

When Kira came out of the shower-room, dressed in a deeply green sheath that set the gold and copper in her eyes aflame, Taun had to swallow his heart back down into his chest in order to continue setting up the dinner he'd prepared for her. His heart leaped again when he heard her small gasp of astonishment, and he held out a cup of mid-grade liquor he'd prepared for when she appeared. Her eyes, wide and beautifully expressive, took in the sight of various roots, talks, leaves and seeds arranged on plain steel plates and garnished with the few flowers he could spare, and rose to his with amazement as she took the drink. “Did you...?”

“Ah, yeah...” He had to control his eyes, trying not to focus too hard on the shape of her body under that clingy green fabric. “Is it too much?”

“It's...” Kira searched for the word. “It's incredible – you grew all this?”

Taun nodded. “Mm-hmm, I've gutted and refitted this ship and turned it into a mobile farm, basically. It keeps my food cost down and passes the time.” He didn't mention the secure rooms where he grew hallucinogenic herbs, fungus and algae just yet – he'd tell her about that particular income stream later.

“I haven't had fruit in probably six or seven years,” Kira breathed, staring greedily at a small cluster of bright yellow berries. “I don't even know what half of it is.” Her eyes sparkled, though, and she looked hungry enough to demolish it all. Taun wondered if she'd ever look at him in the same way. Don't get ahead of yourself. Instead, he invited her to sit on the mat he'd laid out on the floor – his only table was currently holding up a pallet of seedlings in the greenhouse. He watched her kneel, green fabric rippling around her legs as she reached for a cushion to sit on. Settling in, Kira took a drink and raised her eyes to the ceiling in bliss. “Oh my god... Don't tell me you do this all the time?”

Taun shook his head, grinning and lowering himself to sit. “I wish. I'll be honest, if you decide to stay we'll be eating leftovers for a while, then it'll be mostly protein bars and greens.” Taun found himself hoping she would stay.

“Sounds like paradise.” Kira took another sip and set her cup down. “It's still better than the colony, did you hear the part where I said I haven't had fruit in years?”

“I did. I don't always have fruit, either – the plants need to rest between crops, but I keep plenty of preserved stuff on hand. You won't go hungry unless something really bad happens, and even then it'll be a while before I run out.”

“Good to know. Can I...?” Kira gestured towards the food.

“Help yourself, I did this for you.”

She smiled. “Trying to win me over?”

Taun shrugged. “It gets lonely and cold out there, and my setup gets bigger every year, I could use the extra hands.”

“So it's not just about sex, then?” Kira picked an arrangement of fresh fruit and prepared vegetables, selecting pieces carefully. Taun paid attention to the pieces she picked and how quickly – they would be things she was familiar with or appealed the most to her. “When I read the notice, I kind of got the impression that being a pet is more like an arranged marriage than anything else.”

“It can mean a lot of things, depending on who's making the rules. That's what this is for, a chance to talk it over and see if we're looking for the same thing or if we can compromise. What led you to respond, if I may ask? It's... not common for humans to be interested in these things.”

“Can I be honest?” She popped a piece of fruit in her mouth, her tongue pink.

“I'd prefer it.”

Kira took a moment to chew before she answered. “I'm over thirty, I'm not married, and I don't want kids. These colonies tend to be on the conservative side, so if you're at least two of those things people start asking a lot of questions and getting into your business. There aren't many single women out here, so the guys can get annoying real fast – and pushy.”

Taun had to willfully settle his hackles. Already the thought of other men harassing this beautiful, obviously intelligent and amazingly bold woman had him feeling... fighty. Still, she was choosing a relationship that largely centered around sex over settling down, raising a family, being among her own people... “From what I understand, Rock 22 isn't a popular colony.”

“Nope, it's a mining colony, so the work is hard and supplies are expensive. And it's just a rock, there's nothing nice to look at or anywhere to go where you can forget what it's like being underground.” Kira raised her eyes again, this time to the profusion of greenery around and above. Some of the vines had become enmeshed with the wiring, and trails of leaves wound around the support frames Taun had left intact when he cut out bulkheads. Suddenly her eyes widened. “Is that a flower?”

Taun looked where she stared. In one of the supporting beams, in a hole he'd stuffed with moss and growing medium, a tiny white and yellow blossom had begun to unfold like a hand revealing a tiny, precious jewel. He smiled. “Drassian teaflower, one of my favorites. It just started doing that today.”

“All by itself?” Kira shot him a teasing glance, “I figured with you trying to make a good impression and all that...”

“Hey now, if you know how to make flowers bloom on command I may not let you leave.” Taun caught the flash of a grin. “It's just luck, and patience. And a lot more trial-and-error than I care to admit.”

“Isn't that everything?” Kira pulled her attention back from the plants and redirected it between him and the food. Despite not having fruit for years she ate with controlled but obviously sincere pleasure. Taun hoped she approached more than food in the same manner. He was more than content to just watch her, let her enjoy the meal uninterrupted while he enjoyed the view. The dress, probably home-made from whatever material she could scavenge or barter for, hugged her body from chest to hips before widening slightly, and the body under it was no disappointment – already he was imagining what she would feel like against his hands, his pelt, his mouth... Obviously Kira understood what a Leagan expected from his pet, and she must have chosen this outfit to show off what she had to offer in that respect. Sitting on the floor with her legs curled to the side, her hips and thighs strained the green cloth and Taun thought he could see the outline of a little roll in the crease between them. He bit his cheek in anticipation. “So, what about you? How does a guy with a mobile farm not already have a woman and a handful of kids?”

Taun scratched his head, fluffing his crest. “Like a lot of Leagans, I served time in the defense corps. Engineering, mostly. By the time I got out, most of the women were already settled and I guess I missed the window.” The immediate downcast of her eyes told him Kira knew about the fight against the Arakan, and the horrific attack on the Leagan genesis planet. “I guess you know about h'Leaga, then.”

Kira nodded soberly “News travels faster than supplies. I'm... I'm sorry, Taun.”

“Not your fault. We'll spring back in a generation or two, and I donate what I can.” Taun grinned at that. For all he knew there might be a hundred or so Leagan kids with his coloring, born from his 'donations' to gene banks over the years. He shook off the grief and had a drink. “Besides, raising children never really appealed to me either. I like doing what I do, trading and transporting and living my life. It's honest work... mostly.”

“Mostly?” That got her attention. “What does that mean?” Though she asked, a sly smile teased the corner of her mouth. Taun liked that.

“Well, I guess I should ask how you feel about... moving the occasional contraband cargo. Most of what I do is legit, but I don't see why I should pass up the opportunity to make a little extra untraceable funds now and then.”

Kira's eyes sparkled and she chuckled. “I should've guessed – you come all the way out here not because you want to provide us poor mining folk with fresh food, but because the authorities don't come out this far unless it's a big deal. You lure people in with oranges and berries, then you sell them... Let me guess, naash? Redthorn? Ayahuasca?”

“And cannabis, mushrooms, pills, all the good stuff. Not to mention poisons and rare plants for edgy collectors. Is that going to be a problem?”

“Hell no, fuck the police.” Kira grinned, giggling. “There's nothing else to do out here except work, let people have some fun.”

Taun breathed an internal sigh of relief. “Do you partake?”

“Not on the first date. Better safe than sorry, yeah?”

“No pressure. I can show you the grow-rooms if you're interested–“

“Plenty of time for that later. Right now, I'm curious about how long it's going to take before you finally crack.”

Taun blinked. “Hmm?”

Kira indicated the food. “You've barely touched anything, and the whole time I've been here you keep eating me with your eyes. Not that I mind, but it's pretty obvious you like me. And I like you, so we don't need to play games. I want off this rock, and playing pet for a guy who seems like he knows what he's doing is a hell of a lot better than rotting in a mineral mine with drunks and convicts pawing at me all the time.”

Taun blinked some more. She did seem eager to get away, but she was treading carefully. She made no unreasonable demands and seemed to accept what she was getting into. There was no legal tape, no binding contract – if things didn't pan out, he could always drop her off at another colony and start over – but for the most part she seemed willing. Her disdain for authority didn't hurt either. “What's the difference between getting pawed at by a convict and getting pawed at by me? I'm just curious.”

Kira rolled her eyes and sipped at her drink. “There's not a woman on the rock who hasn't been grabbed, rubbed on or slapped on the ass by some soggy prick who thinks he's being cute. Since I came here, though, you've been nothing but manners – I could've walked out of that shower buck-naked and you would've just stood there. I can tell already by how you act and talk that you won't do anything to me unless I say I'm good with it, and I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character.”

Stunned, Taun could do little more than have another taste of his drink. It was true – she'd been giving him cues and openings all evening, from the moment she walked in, and he hadn't acted on any of them. She hadn't explicitly said he should, though her eyes feasted just as much as his. Hell, she'd touched him without asking, something Taun wouldn't have dared with any woman. Leagan women had claws too, and you could always tell a stupid male by the scars. “Well, you're right about a few things – I don't touch anything that doesn't belong to me, and I was raised by parents who didn't want me to lose an eye, so I'd agree with you on my character. And you don't seem to mind my odd jobs, which is good because I'm not giving those up – the money's just too good. As far as cracking goes...” He ran his eyes over her again, taking his time and making sure she saw. “Let's just say I'm made of sterner stuff.”

A slow smile spread from Kira's lips to her eyes. “The 'stuff' is what I'm interested in. I've met Leagans before, but I never had the chance to get really close to one... Do you know what a cat is?”

“Those little fluffy creatures that eat vermin? Yes, they're all the rage on some of the Leagan colonies at the moment.”

“Hmm.” She studied him for a moment, visibly working through a thought. It looked serious. “Would it be racist of me if I said you remind me of them?”

Taun laughed. Gods, I like her! She was so forthright, so clever and humorous, she cut through the bullshit and said exactly what she wanted to say, in such a way that he just couldn't be offended. “Maybe a little? But I don't mind, they're fine animals. Unless you're suggesting I eat vermin?”

“No, not at all.” Her smile returned and Kira looked relieved. “But... I kinda would like to pet you, if that's okay.”

The thrill that coursed through Taun's body was rapturous. He closed his eyes so she wouldn't see them roll back in his head, anticipatory pleasure briefly overwhelming his senses. To feel her smooth, brown fingers combing through his pelt, ruffling the coarse hairs on the back of his neck leading up to his crest, stroking his ears, chest and belly before moving lower... Taun gathered his courage and opened his eyes. “Only if I get to pet you, too.”

Part 3

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ava-ships · 11 months

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Ripples

————————-

Sipping the last of the fresh brewed tea distracted her from her aching temples, at least for a moment.

With looking at switches and circuit boards for hours comes the great consequence of a stressful headache.

Sasha couldn’t help but whine deep under her breath, her boyfriend’s arm wrapped around her shoulder.

It was another one of a headache that almost cost Sasha all her energy for the day that she immediately pooped into Yasuhiro’s arms once he greeted her.

It was pretty sweet of him to carry her to the couch like a princess. Not to mention he wanted her to feel the same comfort as she often gives him.

Sasha leaned back with her head on his shoulders.

“You don’t gotta say anything if you wanna, sweet-pea.”

The electrician only nodded her head, not feeling the mood to speak at the moment.

“Okay, bring it in here” the fortune teller grinned.

He motioned with his arms to get closer at which Sasha did with her legs hoisted upon the plush couch cushions. She lowered her head down to his chest, her ear pressed perfect on the left side.

In an instant, she can hear his heart beating despite the noise muffled slightly from underneath his shirt.

It’s a steady but strong tempo that was a relief from the throb of her aching head as of earlier.

She smiled at the texture of Hiro’s clothing against her skin. His arms draped around her with the tightness of a lock, yet in a loving matter.

Hiro looked down to see Sasha’s lips curled into a smile. A smile that glowed to with serenity, relaxation at most.

So cute!

He couldn’t help it that blush seeped through his cheeks.

“You alright?” Feeling better?”

“Mm-hmm”

Sasha hummed her response with a sleepy timbre in her voice.

He heard a chuckle escaped his lover’s lips, causing him to feel his heart do a quick kick flip before resuming its pace.

But it’s worth seeing Sasha in an peaceful state after hours of work. Hiro glided his hand up and down Sasha’s back while she lay in his arms, his heart being a type of lullaby that eased her sense.

In a way, each beat seemed to repeat “I love you”. And it was true as can be,

“Huh…”

Sasha’s voice cracked, tired black eyes opening up to look into his.

“What’s up?”

The electrician bore a smile that radiated with peace. Her hand slid up closer up the left side of his chest. Hiro clasped his hand over hers like he was keeping it steady. His heartbeat rippled small waves under their palms, a beacon that proved the bond between them.

“I love being this close to you.”

Sasha uttering those words sent brief flutters in her lover’s stomach.

“It’s as close to your heart as I can ever get.”

His heart sped up from the way she spoke so truthfully.

Then again, his heart always has a habit of thumping rapidly whenever she’s with him. Even if looking at her eyes for just a second, a spark of warmth blossoms from inside that’s too good to ignore.

The fortune teller’s lips swerved into a smitten smile at those words, muscles relaxing if not melting in the euphoria of love washing over.

His hand cradling the back of her head, he gently pressed her ear deeper towards where she heard his heart more clear.

“You hear that?”

“Uh-huh”

“Yep. It beats for you, no questions asked.”

The two chuckled. Sasha sighed as she let the sound of the man who loves her take over.

Between them was a whole plethora of tingles and warm fuzzies culminated in an aura they create simply from each other’s presence.

And yet, they could never tire from such a feeling in the world.

———————-

(Reblogs are encouraged , Pr0ship/C0mship DNI)

Taglist: @cherry-bomb-ships @toasty-self-shipping @anomalousalchemist @lollipopselfocshipping @letsgofoletsgo @jelly-drop-buttons @fluffyselfships

#had a killer headache yesterday so I made this #✏️ava writes #ship: psychedelic #s/i: sasha kaneko #danganronpa #yasuhiro hagakure #danganronpa self ship #self shipping #f/os #self ship #self insert #danganronpa oc #danganronpa self insert

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shandian-go · 1 year

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JANUARY 2023 ARRIVALS - IMPORTANT INFORMATION

Reminders

If you are receiving your first package this round or haven’t received a package in a while, please take some time to review the Forwarding Guide to get an idea of what to expect!

The current available payment options are card and E-Transfer. Please check the Forwarding Guide for payment instructions

Please check the Status page for which items will be included in your package. See ‘Package Contents’ on the Forwarding Guide for tips on how to set the filters. The full list of package contents will be availble only to members upon request.

I will automatically hold your order if you have 3 or fewer small items AND you have something arriving in the next round. If you receive a second payment e-mail, it means your package is packed and ready to go, so no hold option is available.

Timeline

Most arrivals have been organized and order packing will begin starting this weekend. The estimated timeline is 5-6 weeks (end of Feb)

Please wait until after I announce that packing for this round is completed before asking for a status update on your arrivals

Some additional items may arrive during the packing period, so please double check the Status page when you receive your second payment email as your package contents may differ slightly from the list as of today

Group Order Updates

TGCF Butterlfy Dream Lucky Draw - Joiners will receive an e-mail this weekend with the results of the special prizes for the draw. There were a few special prizes that ended up in the latest shipments that arrived so my apologies for the delay. Special orders - A number of special orders for Haikyuu, SHL etc. have arrived and have been added to the main tab of the Status page - please double check the SKU of your order to see if you have any arrivals Large/heavy items - Please budget for higher than usual shipping costs if you ordered any of the following:

Photobook sets

Book sets from Taiwan (2ha, SVSSS)

Cushions and large plushies

TGCF x Qing Cang - figurine sets

MDZS x KAZE - snowglobe

Moumou x Maoer FM - audio drama set

Genshin Impact - Dining set, ramen bowl, night light

Fragile items - If you ordered any items like snowglobes or dining ware, please note that packages may be handled roughly while in transit so your items may arrive damaged. I will not be responsible for any damages sustained during transit so please contact me to purchase package insurance if you would like to be able to claim back some of the cost in case of damage. If you do not purchase package insurance then there is very little I can do to help if there is damage.

Local Pick-up - If you are planning to attend the Lan Wangji cupsleeve event Feb, pick-up will be available after the event at around 6 PM. Please e-mail me as soon as possible if you’d like to coordinate a pick-up at the event and I’ll do my best to accomodate!

#shandian go #announcements

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swampboyy · 10 months

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if you've been to my shared living space lately, and sat in my bed, or God forbid slept on it, you will have noticed one particular thing:

it sucks.

the springs jam into your body all night. it's hardly got any cushion left, it's stabby and unpleasant. it is the equivalent of cuddling up to a barley covered, old and blunted barbed wire fence.

please help me get something that isn't going to murder me and my spine? pretty please?

edit: you might have noticed a cost disparity.

this is just compensating for PayPal fees and an added cost of a mattress protector + shipping.

I'm raising $330 until 08/15/2023 for mattress based murder. Can you help? https://www.paypal.com/pools/c/8VV7nAD6GI

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fourseasonsfigs · 2 years

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I Didn't Know How or When you Would Come...

This "hairpin" fig set is of course directly inspired by this scene in Episode 31 of Word of Honor.

The set comes with the two figures, the table, chair, and the mirror. It's made of resin, which always worries me due to the fragile nature of the material. I have the warehouse bubble wrap any resin figure, but you just never know how aggressive carriers might get, or if there were any hairline fractures to start with.

In my experience, all resin figures come in this type of carved plastic cushioning, and I've had (cross my fingers, knock on wood, etc etc) good luck so far.

Only the hairpin appeared broken in transit, so while I was sad, I felt that overall I had gotten lucky.

However! I realized that the hairpin was not actually broken, but shipped in two pieces to avoid breakage, and they included a tube of glue in order to glue each side to A-Xu's little hairbun.

Normally the warehouse removes glue from shipping, but in this case the tiny little tube seems to have accidentally slipped down the side of the box. I already have a 2-part resin glue of my own that I bought locally that is a bit of a hassle to mix and deal with, but is pretty rock solid. This nail glue? is softer and the hairpin is already wiggling loose a bit.

This is a beautiful set for a beautiful scene. I love it.

The figures are very stable. A-Xu sits squarely back in his chair and I don't worry at all he'll fall out. As I say this, of course, I upload this picture...

He is laying very gently down on his perfect face to illustrate. Sorry, A-Xu! You can see he's crafted to fit quite securely with his robes and his sleeves. You can also see his little bun here and the hairpin holes pre-glue.

I love the long elegant sweep and train of Lao Wen's red rescue robes.

A-Xu looks adorable sitting there. These figs have quite a bit of glorious hair but their heads seem a bit smaller and more delicately sculpted than typical.

I never get tired of their beautiful long hair. You can see my wobbly-glue hairpin creation here.

Here's an angle of Lao Wen in full hair brushing action.

A view of the mirror here. I'm quite tempted to decorate the table with little jars and a runner like the screenshot.

The seller also sold this beautiful standee. This was originally a fig / diorama design, but demand wasn't high enough to offset enough of the cost. A huge bummer because this would have been incredible.

The box the fig set shipped in is also beautiful! I love this seller's whole design aesthetic:

Two sides of the box have spicy sets of artwork in a non-chibi style. There was also a pin-up style piece of art that I believe came with the early bird/first-in purchases, but I wasn't early to this, so unfortunately I didn't receive it.

Unlike the (mild and sweet) spice level of the art on the New Year Wenzhou armory magnet (which you can read here), this definitely is kicking it up a notch. I'll post it past the ***** line as usual.

Material: Resin

Fig Count: 57

Diorama Count: 5 (I'm not counting the diorama in the header post quite yet! I'll do another post on that)

Snowglobe Count: 1

Rating: ...but I knew that you would come

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

*****************************************************************

Alright, I'm going to ramble on for a bit so anyone scrolling down to read the bulleted list has a substantial buffer of space before the pics.

I really hope this fig creator makes more figs. Their work is fantastic and I love their vision they had for the swing figs / diorama - full credit to them for shooting for the moon on a large dramatic glorious piece.

Plus there simply just isn't enough Wenzhou figs out there - fig makers could literally make figs for every scene of every episode they're in, and I would buy them all. Can you imagine? That would be amazing.

Alright my patient fig friends! Here's the artwork. I will admit it took me a while to get what the fig maker was riffing off of here, but I did eventually get it.

#wenzhou #word of honor #shl #figthusiast #wen kexing #zhou zishu

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beatotsundere · 1 year

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[FOR SALE] Official SNK FINAL Season Merchandise

New SNK Final season Merchandise orders are made and a few Snk Merchandise are still looking for a home and are left open to buy/reserve from my box splits. They come with official packaging, were never used and are from Japan imported. No cheap china bootleg Versions!

Green crossed out = Reserved from a Customer

All Merchandise are in brand new condition and were never used. Japan import official products!

Feel free to message me for any questions!

Instagram shop: https://www.instagram.com/kusomegane1992_snk_shop/

Released Merchandise and the only left from the sets!

SNK Final Season LOTTERY Event poster EXCLUSIVE VERY RARE : Price EACH: 30.00EUR

Eren

SNK Final Season LOTTERY Event postcard + badge set : Price EACH: 15.00EUR

Eren red design

Eren

Reiner

SNK Final Season LOTTERY Event acrylic keychains : Price EACH: 15.00EUR

Eren red design

Eren water drop design

SNK FINAL Akihabara event Hanji Merchandise:

Hanji square magnet 15.00EUR

SNK lottery Hanji Merchandise: Price EACH: 20.00EUR

Hanji badge

SNK GSC big Cushion keychains (12 in total) : Price EACH: 20.00EUR

Eren 1 left

Mikasa (Reserved)

Armin (1 Reserved) 1 left

Levi (SOLD OUT)

Erwin 1 left

Hanji (SOLD OUT)

SNK Final acrylic stand: Price EACH: 20.00EUR

Jean

SNK FINAL Popoon badge: Price EACH: 15.00EUR

Zeke

SNK FINAL E-Diner event acrylic stands: Price EACH: 15.00-25.00EUR

Sasha

Connie

SNK New Year acrylic stand set: Price EACH: 20.00EUR

Ymir

SNK Final chibi acrylic stands : Price EACH: 20.00EUR

Jean

Zeke

SNK final ball plushis : Price EACH: 20.00-30.00EUR

Levi (SOLD OUT)

Hanji (SOLD OUT)

Eren (SOLD OUT)

Mikasa (SOLD OUT)

Reiner (SOLD OUT)

Jean

Armin (SOLD OUT)

Zeke

PRE ORDERS READY TO RESERVE!

(Finished reserved sets can be checked in my Instagram store)

SNK Final Nendo figure face plate set : Price EACH: to be determined

Armin

Eren, Mikasa, Levi (reserved)

SNK kids acrylic stand figures : Price EACH: to be determined

Jean

Sasha

Ymir

Historia

SNK detective acrylic stand figures : Price EACH: to be determined

Jean

Historia

SNK FINAL Detective vs Thief acrylic stand figures : Price EACH: to be determined

Zeke

Falco

Gabi

Reiner (Reserved)

SNK plush fukubüku : Price EACH: to be determined

All Reserved at the moment

Oversea shipping:

Shipping costs: 4.50EUR

Deutschland:

Versand: 2,90€ oder Einschreiben auch möglich.

I ship my keychains out with airmail.

COMBINIED SHIPPING IS POSSIBLE! GROUP ORDERS WITH FRIENDS IS POSSIBLE!!

Oversea Payment:

ONLY PAYPAL PLEASE!!

Deutschland:

Paypal oder Überweisung möglich!

Write me a message if interested.

ONLY SERIOUS BUYERS PLEASE!

Thank you very much!

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rotworld · 2 years

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19: Tentacles

you're the only offworld trader permitted access to tassketsik, an illithid planet, but this access comes at a cost.

->explicit. contains noncon, mind control, mind break, body horror, ear penetration, implied captivity, terato, tentacles (believe it or not!)

This is the last time.

You let the thought come, let it pass sticky and slow in your mind. Then you bury it. It goes deep, beneath fuel calculations, landing protocols and the inventory checklist, compartmentalized so securely in a locked cabinet of the mind that even they won’t be able to reach it until you’re ready.

Tassketsik is a sapphire in the black of space, swirls of great oceans and indigo landforms. Your ship is Gemini Company standard, a shuttle-sized shipping container with a strictly temperature-regulated and cushioned cargo hold and a cramped afterthought of a cockpit. It skips like a stone over a pond in turbulent atmospheric entry. A sentry craft decloaks behind you, veering off when it detects no weapons on board. It sends a transmission—the message is brute-force translated according to your system settings.

“YOU ARE SCHEDULED, GEMINI 01. WELCOME TO TASSKETSIK.”

The intertidal city of Myrlox is partially submerged when you arrive, a landing strip lit by the pulsing bioluminescence of barnacle-like growths. Runway puddles turn to steam beneath the heat of your engine. You leave your ship in a cavernous hangar bay. Company policy strictly prohibits abandoning your cargo for more than an hour, but offworld trading is strictly regulated on Tassketsik and foreign craft aren’t permitted outside of designated landing zones. Your superiors learned this the hard way. If you take the foggy isthmus path into the city, you can still see the husk of a Gemini Company flagship like a ghost beneath the waves, rusting away in a frothing, turquoise ocean.

Myrlox is opaline silver, its obelisks and twisting conch spires shimmering like nacre beneath watery moonlight. The pavement is soft and damp, sucking at your shoes. It’s busier than the last time you were here. Illithid gather in thick, fast-moving crowds throughout the Swash, a packed business district of decorated market squares and high rise luxury shops. It can be disquieting to watch them. You chalk it up to the uncanniness, their daring proximity to humans. Bipedal with bony, complex fingers and front-facing eyes, naturally curious and inquisitive, instinctively social creatures—it’s remarkable how close they are. From behind, with their bulbous, cephalopod heads covered by hoods or ceremonial veils, you could forget that what you’re looking at isn’t human.

It’s the silence, too. Any major trade hub you’ve been to is a burst of noise and chaos, laughter and haggling and curses in a dozen languages. The illithid make very little sound. Words are startling, an aberration meant to draw attention. You hear the splashing squish of footsteps, the gurgle of the city’s sewer system processing the excess of high tide, and the wet slide of tentacles twisting together. Seafoam laps quietly across colorful, tiled pavement, a cold tongue against your ankles.

You’re startled when an illithid brushes against you. They’re tall and spindly, their thin silhouette widened by a billowing robe. Their facial tendrils paw at your clothes like clumsy hoses. One grazes your bare hand and contact is established, a smooth, confident (hello) echoing in your head.

“Hello,” you say politely.

The illithid’s tendrils flutter in delight. Their face is inexpressive except for the tentacles. Their eyes are pale and dull, the color of curdled milk, but their tendrils twist and curl towards you, tasting your mood. Your own feelings are reflected back to you, mirrored with alien recognition—stress. Exhaustion. Fear. Relief. This intrigues them further but you push back before they get too deep into your head.

(merely curious), they assure you. You interpret the speech as quiet and slightly muffled, carrying a feminine lilt. (only seen your species from afar. never spoken before. you’re the gemini human).

Something unpleasant flickers through you at being known only for your association with the company. The illithid feels it, too, enticed by the rush of disgust and displeasure. They loom closer, a tentacle draping over your shoulder like a reassuring hand.

(would like to buy something), they say. (would like the gemini human to come to my dwelling).

The request is laced with a soft pulse of psionic energy, a little nudge in the back of your mind that softens your hard “no” into considering silence. That is what you’re here to do, after all. The illithid is surprised, pleasantly so, by your resistance. You shrug their tendril off your shoulder, swatting at it when it tries to come back.

“Maybe later,” you say, noncommittal. “I have a preferred buyer I have to see first.”

They’re persistent. You feel them readying another, harder push, a crackling sensation like lightning gathering in the air between you. But it dissipates, the psionic energy wafting away as a sharp pain stabs through your skull. The illithid staggers, clutching their head. Something rips them out of your mind.

Veroyoz emerges from the crowd. They’re roughly the same size as the other illithid but older, their skin sea green and their elevated rank displayed by the long train of a sleek black gown dragging behind them, the sleeves form-fitting and embroidered with silver. You have no idea what they say to each other, but you can read the tension in Veroyoz’s posture and the snapping flicks of their tendrils. The other illithid bows their head in submission and slinks away. Veroyoz’s long fingers rest on the small of your back, a distinctly human gesture, as they usher you through the crowd.

They don’t have to touch you to make contact. The bond is old and well-established, their presence in your mind as snug and familiar as the fit of a tailored jacket. Their voice is gentlemanly, soothing and cordial. (My apologies. The crowds make it difficult to get anywhere in a timely manner.)

“No problem,” you say. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

(Shall we?)

Veroyoz lives on the outskirts of Myrlox, further down the coast. It’s a long walk and they like to take you on the scenic route, winding through the most beautiful sights the city has to offer. The journey is pleasant, for the most part. You admire the old architecture of the historical district and pass through the coral gardens, all the while catching up. “I’m one of the lucky ones lately,” you tell them. “Everyone I know is getting sent out to planets I’ve never even heard of, and some of them aren’t coming back. The company’s really pushing to get a foot in the door on Kurdra right now.”

(Trying to replicate your success, I imagine.)

“They’re still mad you won’t trade with anybody but me.”

Veroyoz transmits the amusement of a small, mischievous smile. (Is that a hint of smugness I’m sensing?)

You shrug. “It’s nice to have something over them for once.”

Their tendrils flick restlessly. (I find Gemini rather distasteful.) There’s the briefest hesitation before the concept of “distasteful” enters your mind. Unethical is what they wanted to say. You feel the graze of it like driftwood in the surf, gone before it fully takes shape. They catch you clinging to it before it goes. (Yes, I know. From your perspective, we have no room to speak on matters of ethics.)

Veroyoz is mindful of the path they take and the places you pass through together, but inevitably, you’ll see something unpleasant. There’s too much of it to hide. Illithid warships, black like obsidian and dizzying in their alien design, cut through the clouds on their path to the stars, headed for the remote and ever-shifting boundaries of the empire. Livestock markets sell genetically engineered companion animals, grotesque creatures bred for espionage and psychic leeching. Today, it’s another human, the first you’ve seen all day. Tassketsik has no tourism industry. Any offworlders you see are beleaguered ambassadors or “companions.”

This one is the latter. You know because she wears the traditional garment, a dark gown with slits along the sides, and because she’s thrashing in pleasure with an illithid wrapped around her. They do this nearly in public, huddled in a narrow alley between smooth residential pods. The illithid crouches over her, pinning her in a posture of submission with both wrists pinned to the ground. Her back is arched, her hips pushing back helplessly against the illithid’s clothed pelvis, and her head is tilted back, cradled in the grasp of the illithid’s facial tentacles. Her face is nothing but a swarm of undulating tentacles and a trembling smile. Several of the tendrils drape over her shoulders, others caressing her, slipping into her gown. One pulses softly, burrowed into her ear.

Veroyoz doesn’t hurry you when your steps are slowed by morbid curiosity, stopping quietly beside you. You stand at the mouth of the alley and watch them, the shivering illithid and the wailing, euphoric woman. No matter how many times you see this, it disgusts and intrigues you.

(You find it erotic,) Veroyoz observes.

“It’s hard not to see it as a sexual act,” you admit.

(Understandable. It is a sexual act to the companion, after all.)

“It really isn’t for you guys?”

Veroyoz crosses their arms over their chest, yet another human gesture they picked up from you. (It’s complicated. The lines blurs at times.) The woman trembles and lets out a broken moan. The illithid responds to her lust with a soft noise of its own, a tentacle slithering beneath her chin to urge her further into its grip. One of Veroyoz’s tendrils extends towards you, sensing your unease. (This distresses you.)

“How can you know she wants that?” you ask.

(You worry about our psionic abilities, the implications. What is the meaning of consent to one who can alter the will of another?)

It passes through your mind before you can stop it—what it would be like to do that with Veroyoz. For them to pin you down, make you submit, and penetrate the parts of your mind that are usually out of reach. You glance at Veroyoz out of the corner of your eye. They stand close to you, the fabric of their gown brushing against your legs when the breeze ruffles through it. They heard that, you know they did. One pale, silvery eye glances back at you in profile, tentacles curling with pride. They transmit something you have trouble parsing, but you eventually interpret it as a familiar stimulus; the contented purr of a large, satiated cat.

(You needn’t worry. We crave the company of sentient beings for emotional and intellectual enrichment. The minds of companions are never broken. That would defeat the purpose of their companionship.)

“You dodged the question.”

(Perhaps I hoped you wouldn’t notice) Veyoroz muses. (I see only a matter of semantics. The human desires the illithid. The source of this desire, I feel, is unimportant.)

“There’s a difference. If they’re just making her feel that desire, then it’s not real. It’s not what she really wants.”

(Even if the brain and body cannot discern the difference?)

“Even then,” you insist.

Veroyoz transmits warmth. The encompassing softness of a strong, lingering embrace. (I miss you when you aren’t here,) they tell you.

Veroyoz’s home is similar to many dome-shaped, coastal pods. The frame is a light, rubbery material, tough but flexible, and the ceiling is a translucent membrane that lets in the soft, swaying blue of the moonlight. They’re well off, you understand, despite the sparseness of their living space. Many Tassketsikians are. Expansionism and war make planets wealthy, and the illithids have few rivals in those realms. You drift naturally towards the back of the pod, to the pool chambers. Veroyoz undresses casually as you go, losing clothing on the way. Belts and pouches first, leaving their belongings carelessly scattered across the floor. They leave their gown just outside the chamber, black fabric puddling around their ankles.

The uncanniness strikes you again. Veroyoz is nearly human. Their limbs are long and gangly but recognizable, hands that articulate just as yours do. They have strong shoulders and long legs, a model’s build and elegance, a strange beauty to the gradient between the speckled pallor of the tendrils to the deeper bluish-green of their body. You’re thinking, again, of illithid companionship. Of submitting to Veroyoz, body and mind. Ever since the first time you saw it, it won’t leave your head. The few humans you’ve met who come and go from Tassketsik call it “brainfucking” and they’re all just as obsessed and horrified by the concept. It can’t possibly feel good, you tell each other, but you laugh nervously and avoid eye contact, and you bring it up again the next time you meet. Heat curls in the pit of your stomach.

(It’s natural to be curious,) Veroyoz tells you, like always.

“Where I come from, we can think all the stupid, embarrasing thoughts we want to, and no one else will ever know about it,” you say stubbornly. It takes you a minute to work up the nerve to undress in front of them. Veroyoz stares mostly out of curiosity—you feel it flare up for every new patch of skin exposed. But their steady, unbroken gaze and the shift of their tendrils following your every move still leaves you feeling uncomfortably vulnerable.

(That sounds very sad,) they say. You feel no teasing or mocking in their tone. They really mean it. (I can’t imagine having such lonely thoughts, locked in my head where no one else can reach them. It would be an unbearable sort of solitude.)

“It does get a little lonely sometimes,” you admit. Belts and pouches clatter to the floor, then your jacket. Your shirt a moment later. Veroyoz watches intently as you bare more yourself. Their eyes tell you nothing, but their tentacles are in constant motion.

The pool chambers are dim, the membranous ceiling covered in a reflective, pearl-like substance that reflects the churning shine of the water. Illithid baths are luxurious and highly specialized. The first chamber you pass through is for cleaning; the second, for leisure. You rinse the sweat and grime of long, cramped spaceflight from your body, sighing in relief at the water’s pleasant heat. It drifts through Veroyoz’s thoughts, and therefore yours, that you’ve never seen the medicinal pools, or the spawning pools.

(We should discuss business at some point,) they say.

With another human, maintaining a straight face would be enough. But Veroyoz senses the dread that pulses through you. Their tendrils raise. “Right,” you say. “Yeah, we should probably get that over with—”

(You are hiding something from me.)

You picture it in your mind. The cabinet; a padlock across it. Veroyoz taught you to do this to protect yourself from nosy illithid. They must not have guessed that might include them someday. You feel wisps of psionic energy like tendrils caressing your brain, hungry and searching. You try to shut them out, but they’re stubborn. Solid. They pry at the hinges. You have no choice but to blurt it out, to reveal it on your own terms.

“I’m quitting,” you tell them. “I’m leaving the company. This is my last trip to Tassketsik.” Veroyoz holds your gaze. You feel them pushing, rooting around for more information. “You could just ask me why,” you say quietly.

(Your employer is unethical. Distasteful,) they correct, the concepts overlapping in your mind. (I know this already. But yes, I see it’s more than that. It’s Tassketsik itself. It’s the illithid. It’s me.)

“No,” you say, but you hesitate. The words are echoed by things you don’t say, whispers of not entirely, not only, not exactly.

(I told you when we met. A lie is no sturdier than a castle of sand.) Veroyoz drifts closer to you but they hesitate when you shrink back. They stand in the middle of the pool, blue light dancing across their chest. (You want to soften the blow by telling me that the company has already lined up your replacement, but that does not reassure me.)

You move further away. Veroyoz follows slowly, inching forward. “I didn’t think you’d be so upset.”

(Your memory is short today. What did I say about lies?)

Your back hits the edge of the pool and you lift yourself, or try to. Veroyoz is faster than you in the water. They lunge with predatory grace, nothing but a splash and a blur, and you’re trapped between their lithe body and the hard, stone edge of the pool. You’re pressed together, chest to chest. You always assumed the illithid would be weak, their tall, willowy bodies easily toppled by more formidable force, but Veroyoz doesn’t budge no matter what you do. You flail and writhe, striking their face and shoulders, pounding against their chest.

Of course they’re strong. They have to be. Every companion you’ve ever seen becomes a mosaic of flesh in your mind, pinned and helpless. The thought sends blood rushing to your sex and you whimper at the betrayal of your own body.

Veroyoz’s tendrils slither closer to your face. You try to keep them away but there’s nowhere to go. You only have two hands, and every tentacle you can’t keep occupied suckling against your palm drags in a slow, sensual caress across your forehead and along the side of your face. It shouldn’t feel good. It shouldn’t make you stiffen and gasp.

(You wanted me to ask you why?) they murmur, the words coming through as though they’re being whispered into your ear. (Then I will ask you, and you will answer truthfully. Why?)

You stare into those white, emotionless eyes and feel known, seen, laid bare like never before. “Because,” you say, your voice hoarse and stammering, “because you’re doing something to me.”

Veroyoz transmits a rumble of approval. The soft tip of a tentacle traces up the side of your neck and you sob, covering your ears. It doesn’t matter. Veroyoz’s voice drifts through your thoughts and it brings a heavy fog with it. You feel heavy, too weak to hold yourself up. Veroyoz’s fingers cup your chin, forcing you to hold their gaze. (And what am I doing to you?)

“You—you’re…” You shudder, feeling their tendrils licking at the spaces between your fingers, urging you open up, let them in. “You’re making me think about it all the time. You’re making me want this.”

Veroyoz strokes your arm with one of their slender, spindly hands. They caress you, engulf your fingers with their longer, bonier ones. They grab your wrist and your breath hitches.

“No,” you beg them. “Veroyoz, please. I don’t want this, I don’t!”

(Then why are you moving against me like that?) they ask. You can’t stop yourself. Your hips are grinding, thrusting into Veroyoz desperately. There’s a flaccid tentacle between their legs, shorter than their facial ones. Vestigial, they told you once, not even used for reproductive purposes, but it’s twitching. You watch as it rises out of the water, squirming and flexible. Were they just trying to make you more comfortable around them like this? Were they lying? It doesn’t matter anymore.

Veroyoz overpowers you easily. They turn your body, push you against the hard pool wall again, folding themselves against your back. You sob and struggle but Veroyoz’s soothing voice is calm as always, assuring you that you’re going to enjoy this, that companions always do, that they’re tired of the long waiting between your visits, the silence, the emptiness, and you told them that you were lonely in the isolation of your own head, too, so why don’t you let them in? Your arm is stretched, your wrist pinned far from your body. When they seize your other wrist, you suck in a shaky breath. Arousal floods your body, feverish desire, need.

You’re pinned. Made to submit. Veroyoz’s tentacles slither across your scalp and make their way slowly, teasingly, to your ears. They caress the shell and the suckle at your lobes.

(I imagine we’ll have a wonderful conversation about this later,) they purr. (I can’t wait to find out which one of us was right in our little debate about semantics.)

Veroyoz’s tendrils wriggle inside your ears, snaking deeper, through impossibly tight passages, into the tender softness you’ve never relinquished before, and you fall to pieces. Everything is perfect. Heaven. Bliss. They're right. You know they're right, they were right all along.

It feels good. It doesn’t matter why.

#rotpeach writes #goretober #original #today's monster is a dnd mind flayer #prior knowledge is unnecessary because major lore changes have been made to suit the setting and my sexy/spooky needs

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