#prompt 12

[pillow-anime-talk]

12 fluff promt for uta plz

# tags: scenario; current relationship; soulmate!au (tattoos); light romance; fluff; couple goals; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. uta {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hope u like it :) have a nice day/night!

12. “But we are not married.” “Then marry me.”

Punk music played at medium volume and spread throughout the building, and you jiggled your right foot to it while keeping your both eyes on the colorful magazine in your hands. From time to time you also glanced at your boyfriend, Uta, who was a few meters away from you, tattooing another client who wanted a huge red dragon across the entire width and length of his back. His concentration was really intriguing, and not even your warm gaze could snap him out of trance.

That’s why, after a few tries, you focused entirely on the thick periodical, reading about the biggest fashion bloopers of this month and dozens of romances in the world of showbiz stars.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

After another three hours, Uta finished part of the tattoo and thanked his male client for staying in the uncomfortable position for that time. Together with a middle-aged man who had a black beard and dark eyes, they agreed on the last meeting, and thus the last part of the beautiful painting that was to appear on the right shoulder blade. They shook hands, wished each other a nice evening, and then Uta closed the front door to his small tattoo studio, which he had been running for years on his own with no other employees. He turned off all the lights, then returned to a room decorated with a tattoo table, several cabinets, special equipment and a trash bin.

There was also a small, dirty-green leather couch and a table with a glass surface. There was you on the sofa, clutching a magazine in your hands, though your eyes were squeezed tight and your mouth slightly open. The calm face and light movements of the chest spoke loudly about the fact that somewhere in the middle of Uta’s work you fell asleep, and the only thing that appeared in your sleepy thoughts was the desire to drink a cup of coffee without milk and sugar.

For a brief moment, Uta didn���t have the heart to wake you up because he knew your life had been quite stressful in recent days and you had a lot of responsibilities in your private life, but at the same time, he didn’t want your head to hurt after this short nap, or worse, your back and neck.

Before waking you up, however, he glanced at one of the hands that was touching the paper and smiled at the small tattoo adorning your little finger. The drawing showed a full moon; light streaks and lines were made with the utmost precision – the tattoo looked like a real moon that can be found in the sky. After briefly glancing at your finger, he looked automatically at his own left hand and the left corner of his mouth twitched. On his pinky there was a drawing of the same size – the only difference was that there was a tiny sun on his pale skin.

He sighed though, touching your soft cheek covered with gold highlighter.

“... Mgmhm...” You muttered something unintelligible under your breath, which made the man laugh again. “Uta... It’s your turn to... Y-You have to take our kids to school... Mhm...” You said a little more clearly, though your voice was still quiet, muffled by yawns and the desire to stay asleep. It was, after all, close to eleven in the evening.

“Kids?” He raised an eyebrow and the silver earring a bit up. “But we are not married.” He added directly into your ear, and you wiggled your nose, keeping your eyes shut.

“Then marry me.”

Surely you dreamed something nice – there was a slight smile and a huge blush on your face. Uta gave up and decided not to wake you up. Instead, he lifted your body off the couch with no problem. He had placed the magazine on a glass table a moment earlier, next to a small candlestick and a vase of dead roses.

You were already soulmates, and that meant the bonds of marriage. Nevertheless, the vision of you two with a bunch of children and then grandchildren, although too beautiful, did not have to be unattainable.

[chocoblep]

#12: Mystery Solved

Prompt: Quarry

Hinan crouched low, watching and waiting. He’d been haunting this spot for a few days, slowing to a creep when he heard shuffling in this particular spot so that he could observe. After all, he had a mystery to solve, and now that he couldn’t go out on jobs for a few days and Rhuk had made him take the day off from The Lucky Fin due to his very unfortunate rear situation, he’d had little to do, and was restless. He’d decided to go to the kitchen and grab a snack, but when he heard the telltale sounds of someone already inside that area, he decided to creep around toward the back and hide near the curtain so he could peek into the kitchen proper.

Slowly, gently, he pulled just enough of the curtain to the side to peek through a slit along the door frame, careful to disturb as little of it as possible. He could see the shadow of a person extending over the tatami, and judging by that shape, it was probably Aeluan. When he stepped into view he had a brown paper bag clutched in his hand and he moved with purpose to the shelf where all of the booze was.

Well, that was odd, because Aeluan didn’t drink; he was the only person that Hinan knew who would go to a bar and order milk. But as the Raen in the kitchen reached for Hinan’s bottle of rum–Hinan’s rum–Hinan tensed in place. A quick, furtive glance around seemed to satisfy Aeluan’s sense that someone might be watching him, and soon enough he was setting it aside on the counter and reaching behind it to pull out a small wrapped parcel. He eyed it for a moment before reaching into the brown paper bag and pulling out another small, wrapped parcel that looked identical in everything but size. The new one was bigger. Hinan narrowed his eyes.

Gotcha.

As Aeluan placed that new parcel up on the shelf and reached to replace Hinan’s rum bottle, Hinan burst in from behind the curtain, his arm extended and finger pointed directly at his older brother.

“CHOCOLATE THIEF!”

Aeluan jumped and nearly dropped his rum, and Hinan cursed himself for not thinking of the timing of his ambush.

“Hinan!” Aeluan exclaimed, frozen in place and staring at him like a deer in the headlamps. “I… ah…”

“Stole my chocolate!” Hinan cut in. “I thought I was going crazy and eat-walking again!”

Eat-walking was something that Hinan had started doing as a teenager, when he was growing all too fast for his metabolism to keep up. He’d had vivid dreams about food, and he would wake up the next day to learn that he’d made entire meals in his sleep, plural, which he’d then eaten all of.  According to Aeluan, they were crazy combinations of ingredients, too, that he wouldn’t have ever thought to put together in any fashion, and had often wondered if Hinan’s stomach was going to revolt. It never had, but sometimes he’d eat-walked and only grabbed snacks, too. The latter instance was what had been plaguing Hinan’s mind lately, and he’d begun to lament that he was now enjoying his chocolate in dreams he couldn’t remember.

“Look, I got a craving,” Aeluan explained, finally putting Hinan’s rum back on the shelf. He turned to face Hinan, and crossed his arms over his chest. “I felt a little bad after I took some, so I decided to buy you some more to replace what I stole.”

Any irritation he’d had at Aeluan for stealing his chocolate in the first place drained away, and he lowered his accusatory hand. “Well, that’s fair, I guess,” he murmured, “but it’s more like borrowing at that point, isn’t it?”

Aelu blinked a couple times before replying, in a completely deadpan voice, “I’m not regurgitating it, so no, it’s not borrowing.”

Hinan made a noise of disgust at that. “Good, I’m not keen on seeing you puke, ever.”

“Well, either way, you have a full bag of chocolates now, those Gridanian ones you like so much.”

“You got me a bag of Glint Truffles!?” Now he was excited, and he maneuvered his way around the counter, bumping his hip on his way by. The sharpening of his aches from his recent injury caused him to stop for a moment, but as soon as he was steady he slapped a hand on Aeluan’s shoulder. “Forgiven. You’re forgiven.”

“Thank you. Wanna share the two that are left in this bag?” He asked, holding up the old bag of chocolate for emphasis.

“Hell yeah, I do!”

((@sword-and-surfboard for mention!))

[midcinmancave]

Story Prompts:  "Follow me if you want to live.", "Did you hear that?"

Story Title:  The Price of Royalty (part 2 of 3)

Summary: Robert is missing... the Princess is in despair. Complete Story Source on FB

Fictober24 Submission #13 Fandom:  Midnight Cinderella Featuring:  Robert Branche, Sid Arnault, The Princess Warnings:  Angst Ratings/Genre:  General Audience, Drama Writer: Robert Branche

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #12

Prompt: Old Wives Tale

Fandom/OCs: Science Lovers OCs (Peter and Violet)

Words: 1360

Sicknario inspo: Catching cold after doing something foolhardy from this post and caretaker being sneezed on from this post (both posts by @sickromancer !)

Author’s comments/background: So many characters that I only write for Sicktember, but it’s such a treat to revisit them. I loved Peter and Violet’s first story so much (read it here), and watching them grow up is delightful to me. So here’s another domestic drabble set in the Victorian era. 

~~~***~~~

Peter and Violet were sitting by the pond behind their tiny home, enjoying the late autumn sunset. They were dressed for warmth, since the wind had more than a hint of winter on it, but it was a beautiful, sunny day and they knew they wouldn't have many more of those. The married couple spoke little, enjoying the silence and each other's company. Peter had been staring at the surface of the water contemplatively, when suddenly his eyes lit up. He was on his feet in a moment, crouching at the edge of the pond with rapt stillness, carefully sliding out of his jacket.

"Peter? What is it?" Violet asked, feeling the need to whisper. 

He gestured for her to be silent, his attention fixed on something at the center of the pond. They sat frozen in silence, Violet waiting for some sign as to what was happening, when out of nowhere, Peter dove into the water. The motion was so unexpected that Violet stood with a gasp, rushing to the pond's edge, hands over her mouth, but Peter appeared a moment later, grinning triumphantly with something clenched in his fist. He waded to the bank crowing with pride:

"I found one! The final specimen needed to complete our frog study! We've been looking all summer but none of the lads have even seen this breed and we'd all but given up. It's past the season for them, really. I've no idea what she's doing here now, but she's a winner, big and fat! She'll look tremendous at the exhibition."

"Oh Peter, but your clothes! You're covered in filthy, stinking pond water now. And it's freezing! You're going to catch your death behaving so."

He came fully out of the water, all of him now sopping wet and colored various shades of green and brown. "They're just clothes," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "They'll wash, and so will my skin. Besides, Britain's scientific community will benefit much from our exhibition. I'd say the contribution we're making is worth a few ruined shirts," he said, almost pleadingly, as if begging her to agree with him. 

Violet glared at him, hands on her hips, not so easily swayed. "Just you wait, sir," she said, shaking her head. "You'll sing a different tune when you've caught a beastly cold from acting like a child, and I'll not feel one whit sorry for you. Diving into dirty ponds in October indeed. Why must women be vexed with men?"

Peter was already shivering in the cold air, but he cradled the frog tenderly, being careful not to injure it. “Vi, dearest, you needn't be cross. I want to be excited, and I don’t want to spoil the day by quarreling with you. I'll see to my clothes so it's not a worry on you. And you of all people, with all your training in medicine, should know that I mightn’t get sick just from getting wet. The new research from John Snow and others says that microscopic organisms are the cause of illness, not air and weather. I read you that journal just last week, don't you remember? You see, I'm sure I’ll be just fine. And right now my only wish is that you'd be happy along with me!"

Violet sighed, but a smile twitched the corners of her mouth against her will. He was so sweet and earnest as he spoke, just as he’d been when they first met. “Oh go on, then. I’m pleased you found your precious frog. But come, now, you must get cleaned up. They may be saying that weather doesn’t cause illness, but I’d rather we not tempt fate.”

Peter willingly followed her to the house, but wouldn’t see to himself until he had secured his prize to ensure she would stay well until he was ready to dress her for display. Meanwhile, Violet wouldn’t let him in the door until he had stripped down naked and been doused with a few buckets of water to remove the worst of the slime. As she was helping him disentangle himself from his sodden shirt, he froze. Just as she was about to ask him if he was well, he sneezed harshly, trying to turn away from her, mostly unsuccessfully. His nose was immediately running from the sneeze, but he had nothing to wipe it with other than his filthy shirt. She hastily handed him her own handkerchief, unable to keep a smug look from her face. 

“You’ll say that sneeze was a coincidence, I’m sure, but I’ll not wonder the cold water is already having its way with you, foolish man.”

Peter made an annoyed sound. “It's only the water and slime in my nose. I’m not taking ill. Illness from the cold is an old wive’s tale now. Just you wait and see.”

~~~

Wait she did, and her reward was to see him come down with a beauty of a head cold in two days’ time. He continued to insist the foreign stuff from the pond in his nose made him sick, though, not the cold air and water. Violet kept her opinion to herself, and tried not to be too smug. Anyway, it was hard to be angry when Peter was so happy. His frog and the completion of his collection thrilled him, and he earned the unabashed admiration of his friends for his boldness and quick action. (His clothes and shoes were a loss in the end, but he paid for new from his own pocket with good grace.) The amphibian was a fine specimen to be sure, and everyone was certain she would be the crowning jewel of the exhibition. 

Amidst all the excitement, though, Peter was a sniffling, sneezing, shivering mess and within a week he was unable to leave the house due to how poorly he was feeling. Putting aside her own feelings, Violet gave his cold the best care she could, for Peter's colds turned feverish at the slightest provocation. One night during the worst of it he could hardly draw breath for the clogging congestion in his chest and sinuses (worse than usual even for him, and this she could easily attribute to the pond water), so she drew him a hot bath for his feet and kept him wrapped in quilts as he soaked in the steam to keep the sickly shivers at bay, with a clean stack of handkerchiefs near at hand. He sniffled and sneezed and generally carried on, though she knew he was doing his best not to, so that her heart melted for him, even when he managed to sneeze or nearly sneeze on her almost every time she was near. 

"Thangk you, dearest," he managed as she placed a bowl of stew near at hand. "I'mb sorry to incodvedience you, and I appreciade your care as always." 

His earnest, watering eyes above a pink, runny nose were so endearing that she could only kiss his temple fondly. " 'Tis no trouble, for you're an easier patient than most. I'll not even waste my breath telling you never to do anything so foolhardy in the name of science again, because I know you would do it over a hundred times, given the same circumstance. So I must content myself with helping you take care in the aftermath." 

He gave her a sheepish smile, scrubbing a wrist across his upper lip absently. "You do such an excellent job of idt. I'mb mbost fortunade. 

She had to laugh. "I can hardly listen to you when your voice is so. You're completely pitiful when you've caught cold, my dear. I simply can't bear it." She pressed another kiss to his hair as his lips formed a pout.

"You ndeedn't treadt mbe like a child," he muttered. Yet he let his weight fall against her as she continued to stroke his hair. 

"Perhaps if you didn't go jumping into ponds in your shoes and trousers like a child, I'd be less inclined to do so."

He pulled away from her to glare, but she continued to work her fingers through his hair, smiling to show she was only teasing. He leaned against her once more, mollified. She continued her ministrations to his scalp for a long while until, sick as he was, he fell fast asleep against her.

[fanfictasia]

Whumpuary Prompt 12

“You’re Awake” / Rescue 

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from The Nighttime Fear

He jolts back to consciousness, gasping.

“You’re awake!” Wrecker exclaims gleefully, scooping him into a hug. Hunter doesn’t even have the energy to grumble about it. He’s exhausted, and his head feels fuzzy from whatever sedatives that was, or maybe it’s from the surgery. It’ll take a while to click back, and until then, well, he’ll be stumbling around in a half sluggish state and hopefully not get anyone else killed.

“Yeah,” Hunter grumbles, face pressed against his little brother’s chest. “I’m awake.” It’s Tech’s turn now.

“You okay?” Wrecker asks, pulling back, expression worried.

Hunter sighs, trying to force the dreams from mind, but they stubbornly stay. Crosshair was hurting her. She’s just a child. “I dreamed again. More… vivid than usual.”

“Are you sure it’s a dream?” Anakin queries, turning to them.

“What do you mean?”

“It could have been a vision,” Anakin points out, “Your… specific connection to the Force does imply it could be a gift you have.”

He… didn’t know that, but there’s a lot of things Hunter doesn’t know about being a Jedi. That child – whoever she is – was hurting. Being hurt. By Crosshair. She needs them, but he doesn’t know what he could do.

“What’ve you been seeing?” Rex inquires, and he and Ahsoka approach them.

“I don’t even know who she is,” Hunter admits. Our brothers, she had said, but that doesn’t make any sense. Who’s the plural in that? “I’ve never seen her before, but there is something important about her.”

“Perhaps you don’t remember her,” Anakin suggests, “Or she will be important to you in future.”Hunter can’t imagine either, but something about it whispers with rightness in the Force. “Maybe,” he sighs. He doesn’t tell them the rest. Doesn’t tell them about Crosshair, even if he should. He doesn’t know how.

[forthill]

[wonkyelk]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stargate Atlantis Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard Characters: Rodney McKay, John Sheppard Additional Tags: Character Study, Short, Angst, Feelings Realization, Whumptober 2023 Summary:

Rodney’s relationship with sleep had always been complicated.

[promptsbytaurie]

prompt #12

A: i have never feared you.

B: no. you were always too smart for that.

[sterek-and-stuff-events]

Mead Moons prompt: Hot

Does Stiles' brain stop functioning when Derek wears only a tiny pair of running shorts during a summer training session? Or does Derek have a hard time controlling his wolf when Stiles is all hot and sweaty from playing lacrosse?

Do they meet while choosing the same bit of shade to hide from the unforgiving sun in a post-apocalyptic wasteland? Or do they dare each other to consume hot sauces higher and higher on the Scoville scale until tears are streaming down their faces?

Does Stiles end up stuck manning the grill at the pack bbq so Derek comes over to keep him company with some ice cream? Or do they go to a nearby river to cool off during a record heatwave and one thing leads to another?

Create something that will get folks heated! 🥵

[pillow-anime-talk]

Hi it’s me again 😅 can’t get enough, so I thought of Ayato and prompt 12 with fem reader!! Them being childhood sweethearts. Again congrats on 4000 followers, you deserve it :)

# tags: scenario; friendship; fluffy shit; flashbacks; childhood sweethearts; human!reader; sfw

includes: female reader ft. ayato kirishima {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hello once again! i hope it's the ayato from tokyo ghoul (not from genshin impact or diabolik lovers), based on your previous request :) thank you for this prompt!

12. “But we are not married.” “Then marry me.”

You and Ayato have known each other for over eighteen years. Now you are twenty-four and twenty-five, have enough knowledge about life and also many situations behind you.

Your friendship is a sequence of pleasant memories, it’s dozens of trips together outside of Tokyo, weeks without contact and months of living in silence, your long-hour quarrels, your live together for three years in small flat, your ‘on college’ chapter, his being a ghoul and all the bad things he’s done, your own first love and his broken heart after several relationships with women... It’s all your moments with a glass of wine or something stronger, it’s just watching horror movies together until dawn, running away from important meetings, also your first serious work and all the other things that have kept the two of you apart for almost twenty years, but also made your relatio stronger than ever before.

You understood each other without words, you understood each other through gestures, facial expressions and the way of breathing. You knew each other perfectly, you knew about all your failures and about every, even the smallest, situation that made you smile or happy. There was no taboo between you, no shyness.

And although Ayato in your eyes has become a really handsome and calm guy, still looking at him to this day you are able to remember his much younger – seven-year-old – version, who stole your favorite bucket from the sandbox and argued with you that he just found it and had to take care of it... At first your friendship was turbulent and full of contradictions; the boy took your toys, scared you and ran away from you, while you called him ‘nasty black cat’ and ‘big dummy’. His father and your mother looked at you with light amusement on their faces, wondering when you will finally come to an understanding.

To this day, you remember how – after almost a year of friendship and playing together in the sandbox – Ayato approached you with a paper bag filled with cookies in your favorite flavor. It was a kind gesture that put the most beautiful smile on your baby face at that time. The boy thought it was really cute. It’s cute to see you happy and looking at him as someone you really like.

“...You should give me a kiss as a ‘Thank you’. I made them with my sister.” He said then an you only giggled under your breath. The present Ayato looked at you with furrowed brows and you just shook your head. You were at the coffee shop.

“But we are not married.” You said seventeen years ago and he just stamped his foot.

“Then marry me.” His declaration was sincere and loud at the time, causing your mummy to giggle and his dad to laugh out loud; he almost dropped the newspaper from his hands.

The memory only made you smile more and more, the tip of your nose turning slightly red.

“What’s going on, Y/N?” The dark-haired man put down the mug with the steaming drink, and you sighed amused.

“I just remembered something...” You began mysteriously, causing another surprised look to be sent in your direction. “It’s a really nice memory.” You looked down at the surface of dark coffee and could have sworn that for a brief moment your reflection looked like a six-year-old version of yourself.

[kybercrystals94]

Just a Scrap of Fabric

Read on Ao3 here!

By KyberCrystals94

Whumptober 2023|Day 12|Prompt 12: Red

Bad Things Happen Bingo: Bloody Nose

Rating: G

Words: 582

Summary: Hunter gets his bandana.

One day, when the Batch were biologically 9 years old, Hunter walked into their barracks with his wild mane of regulation spurning hair neatly corralled by a strip of red fabric. Three pairs of eyes studied him unabashedly. Hunter pretended he didn’t notice. No questions were asked, no answers were given. And that was that. Hunter wore a bandana now.

Months passed, and the memories of what Hunter looked like without his red bandana faded. Which is why it was all the more shocking when he came into the barracks, minutes before lights out, without the now familiar bandana. But he did have the shadow of a developing black eye and a bloody nose. Hunter avoided making eye contact with his brothers as he made for the fresher.

Crosshair caught him. “Hey! What happened to you?”

“I’m fine,” Hunter growled. He tried to shove past Crosshair, but Crosshair merely grabbed him by both shoulders and steered him to sit at the table.

“Tech, get the first aid kit,” Crosshair said.

“I said I’m fine!” Hunter protested, but his eyes were becoming shiny and red, a figurative and literal bruised scowl twisted his expression.

“And I say you’re a karking liar,” Crosshair snapped back as he dug through the kit Tech meekly provided. “Are you gonna tell us what happened?” He handed Hunter a wad of gauze.

Hunter puts the gauze under his nose, voice muffled behind it. “Just some stupid regs.”

“Why’d they do it?” Wrecker asked, his stuffed tooka, Lula, clutched in his fists.

“It doesn’t matter why,” Hunter said.

Crosshair activated a cold pack and holds it against Hunter’s swollen left eye.

“It matters to us,” Tech said.

Hunter lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Regs don’t have to have a reason.”

“But these ones did,” Crosshair pressed.

A chime sounded, giving the one minute to lights out warning.

“It’s too late to talk about it now,” Hunter declared. He took the ice pack from Crosshair. “Go to bed.”

Glances are exchanged, but four cadets climb into their bunks without another word.

“They took his bandana!” Wrecker cried.

“That is true in all likelihood; however, there’s nothing we can do about that now. Hunter won’t tell us who the regs are,” Tech added.

“And even if he did,” Crosshair said, “it’s not like they’d give it back.”

Wrecker jumped up from the table where the secret meeting concerning Hunter was being held. “We should get him a new one!”

“From where. We don’t even know where he got the first one,” Crosshair grumbled as he picked at a loose thread on the sleeve of his red cadet uniform.

Tech watched him for a moment then smiled. “I have an idea.”

Hunter was surprised when he returned to the barracks and found it empty. His eyes drifted over the room, searching for any clue where his brothers might have gone to. That’s when he saw a burst of red fabric on his bed.

He picked it up, a long strip of fabric hemmed with neat, even stitches. The same kind of stitches Crosshair used when he’d repaired tears on Lula.

A new bandana.

Not the worn, raggedy piece of fabric he’d found in a bin.

Hunter smiled and ran to the fresher, tied the bandana around his head and admired it in the mirror. It was perfect.

When his brothers returned a few minutes later from wherever they were, no questions were asked, but three barely contained smiles was answer enough.

END

Author’s Note: Just a little, fluffy one-shot with a pinch of whump. ☺️

Tag List: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista

✨Let me know if you’d like to be on my tag list!✨

[oswsfandomchallenge]

On to prompt number twelve and the last quarter of the off-season. We're excited to see what you'll come up with! 💜

prompt #12:

❄️ Oops, wrong number ❄️

[midcinmancave]

Story Prompt:  "I’m not saying I didn’t like it."

Summary:  The Bureaucrat enjoys an outing amongst the people. Complete Story Source

Fictober Submission #18 Fandom:  Midnight Cinderella Featuring:  Leo Crawford, Alyn Crawford, Sid Arnault Warnings:  None Rating/Genre:  General Audience, Comedy Writer:  Leo Crawford’s Admin

[unbloomingmoonflower]

FFXIVWrite2023 Prompt 12: Dowdy

Despite what Tataru said, Shuri was in no way a fashionista. She wouldn't pass the Fashion Report in the Gold Saucer if her life depended on it.

She wore whatever was comfortable. It was undoubtedly dowdy by other standards, and she had seen how fabulously dressed everyone else was. Tataru, however, frighteningly insisted that Shuri could wear almost anything well and be able to catch many an eye.

"I don't believe you," Shuri had scoffed.

"I will stake gil that I am not fooling you," replied Tataru seriously, with that gleam in her eye that assured Shuri she was going to regret agreeing to this.

And now, I owe Tataru gil.

[chocoblep]

#12: The Drip

“I don’t see much use in prioritizing aesthetics over comfort,” Shieke said, watching as the young Hyuran redhead buzzed around the small studio. She’d just made it to Ul’dah, fresh from Limsa Lominsa, and for her first time in the city, she had decided that a local tailor might be wise, as she leather she wore now was particularly warm in the desert. “What I’d like is something that lets me feel the wind on my skin as much as possible, but isn’t itchy or strangely constructed.”

“That is easy,” she said softly, “But what about when you want to feel beautiful? When you want to walk down a street and turn heads? Your tribal vestments might grab attention, but if you want to be confident that they’re not looking at you because you’re out of place, you’d want to be wearing flattering garments that are fashionable–either universally so, or in line with wherever you are.” 

“I turn heads wherever I go already,” Shieke said, and then her lips turned downward into a scowl. “I have had to quash many rude calls.”

The young Midlander stopped and looked up at Shieke, her grass-green eyes assessing. “Well, you look like the sort that could make just about anything look good, so I am not surprised. But if you would allow me, I have a few pieces ready-made that you could try on and see if you would be interested in them. They’re airy and light, and I think they’d look good on you.”

Shieke sighed. “Very well.”

The tailor squeaked excitedly, and then snagged three pieces–two tops and a pair of shorts. These she shoved into Shieke’s arms. She squeaked again when Shieke took off her vest in the middle of the studio and began shimmying out of her skirt. 

“No, there’s a changing room–you’re not wearing underwear!? How do you stand the–nevermind, hold on, you’ll want undergarments, let’s start there!” 

Shieke was in the studio for two hours that day, learning the differences between garments meant for comfort, garments meant for fashion, and those meant to be worn as little as possible. Shieke did not see much point in those–why wear something with the expectation of immediately taking it off? It seemed… wasteful.

But she had to admit that when the Hyur put her into an ensemble and then stepped back with a sincere gasp–”you’re breathtaking!”–Shieke found the value in wearing clothing for aesthetics. A genuine compliment like that had her chin lifting a fraction and a happy warmth blooming in her chest.

After she’d tried on several different styles of clothing, she gave in to the young woman’s suggestions for the more fashionable pieces, and when she walked out in a new ensemble with two ready-made garments and several more on order, she felt like she’d shed an old, drab skin and emerged more beautiful and twice as confident as she’d been when she walked in.

It wasn’t until years later that she realized the value in clothes one wasn’t meant to wear for long.

[tricksterfiction]

Prompt #12 Dowdy

Akane Urabe rarely got credit where it was due for her sheer, momentous amount of patience she had where raising her children were concerned. Dressed in a light soft brown komon with white pattern diamonds, toes tucked into a pair of old geta, her strawberry ginger hair tucked into a low bun. Deep brown eyes searching.

She had been busy filling her days with helping watch her grandchildren since her husband's passing and they were enough to run her off her feet. The children in varying degrees inherited a strong affinity for feral behaviour, running like the kami possessed their feet. Not unlike that of one of their Aunt's.

Today she had invited everyone over for a lovely birthday brunch for her eldest daughter, Iso accompanied by her husband. The youngest, Cho and her husband had charitably arrived early to help prepare food and decorations. The only one missing was her middle child, Sen.

The grandchildren were happily occupied with each other, their laughter spilling out from the garden.

The eleventh bell was nearing, Akane stood by the front porch watching the road expectantly. A moment passed eleven and she sighed.

"I'm heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere!"

Akane looked down the road again mistakenly for the late arrival of Sen came from above. Akane gasped, shielding her face with her sleeve as the heavy thump of Moonshine's landing greeted her.

"Kweh!" Moonshine was in her adorable yellow raincoat, her flying goggles down, a pack filled to the brim with various herbs, flowers, and other greenery sticking out. A fox head popped out of a sidesaddle bag.

Sen swung a leg over the saddle, dismounting easily. Akane ran a scrutinizing eye over Sen. She was dressed in overalls, sweaty, covered in a fine layer of dust, and a straw hat.

"Mama!" Sen greeted brightly, carrying on in Doman, "Apologies for being tardy, I lost track of time. I went out to get Iso some fresh lavender as a gift and got carried away collecting something for everybody. The kids would feel left out. I found some great intact bird bones that I know that little Sakura will love-"

Moonshine bowed her head for Sen to adjust the goggles off her eyes, getting a few grysahl green leaves as a snack.

Akane waited to get a word in, "You are here and that is all that matters..." She waited a beat for Sen's full attention, "But dressed as you are will not do."

Sen sheepishly laughed, "Didn't want to be late taking the time to clean myself up. Is there... anything clean I can borrow?"

"Clean, yes. I sorted through your old closet and donated all your dowdy westerner clothing."

Sen's expression fell, "Mama-"

Pinching Sen's sleeve to tug her inside, "There is a wash basin ready as well, and stand up straight and don't pout."

Once Sen was inside, Akane shooed Moonshine around the house to the back gardens where the children were playing. There was a resounding cheer of the chocobo's arrival.

Sen stepped out of her boots, padding barefoot across her family home. Akane was right behind her, trying to herd her to her room as quickly as possible but stopped short by popping her head in to say hello to her sisters and squinting at the sight of their husbands as well, relaxing outdoors.

"I thought it was going to be us and the kids - family only."

"It is, what are you talking about?" Akane poked once, poked twice Sen's back to keep walking, but was served a disappointed look from her second eldest.

"What's the matter? Go on, get to it."

"Mama, had I known partners were allowed I'd have brought Jesser."

Akane brushed her off, "He does not count, you're not even married. Come now."

Iso popped her deep auburn head out from the sidedoor leading into the living room, "Did I hear Jesser'to would be joining us? The Dahkra's are such a good family-"

Akane answered in a sharp bite, "No he will not be."

Iso shrank a little, but spoke up, "Mama, that is not fair." The sisters shared a look, Akane saw the apparent gratitude in Sen's face.

Silence stretched between the three of them. Cho calling from the kitchen for some help. Akane looked back to Sen, her daughter no longer faced her mother.

"Enough." Akane decided, a harder push at Sen's back to get her on the move again but it was like trying to shove a stonewall. She held her breath.

Sen was still, breathing evenly after a beat she moved Akane tried to follow behind her to show her the yakuta she picked out for her but the door was slammed in her face. About to rapt on the door, Iso was at Akane's side holding her mother's wrist.

Iso whispered, pleadingly, "Mama, don't."

Showing a similar form of restraint Akane backed away from the door. Calling back to Cho that she was coming to help.