#sword & kettle press

[vc-blackhouse]

We're a tiny independent publishing house for inclusive feminist fantasy & speculative writing, run by editors across the United States. You might know us from our successful crowdfunding campaigns for Bewildered and the Cup & Dagger series. We're publishing our second series of mini-chapbooks: the New Cosmologies series. Across these eleven mini-chapbooks, you’ll read reinterpretations and retellings, original cosmologies and personal mythologies, prose and poetry, beginnings of universes and ends of worlds.

[deehollowaywrites]

She's here! For a Q&A with cover artist Caitlin Cadieux, and an exclusive excerpt, check out Sword and Kettle Press's Patreon. Plus, preorders are officially LIVE!

[thethingaboutnapkinman]

babes u should totally support sword and kettle press. Go check out their latest, farewell neverland!

[bones-ivy-breath]

I wail silently for more

[eroslove88]

Yandere Kazuha Drabble

Warnings: Kidnapping (held hostage in your own home), drugging, somnophilia, noncon, implied virgin Kazuha and breeding kink

Notes: Been having some Kazuha on my feed lately and I had to write for him. Also, if you'd like me to add a "cut" let me know I'm kind lazy rn but if it bothers you don't be shy. :)!

Kazuha feels bad, you were so scared. His sword to your throat and his other hand twisting your arm behind your back. He couldn't help feeling a bit of guilt and pleasure from hearing your small whimpers and sniffles. When you met him he was so upset when you didn't say "your welcome" to his gratitude, you just nodded and practically ran away. So for the following weeks you'd occasionally "accidentally" run into him, but you'd stutter out an apology and huridly walk away before he could answer. He thought it was cute seeing you all flustered and shy.

He lead you back into your house and locked the door and he stared at your trembling form. Your hands wipe the tears from your face as you look at the floor, "P-please" you whisper out, "I-I don't have much-" but he walks forward making you gulp and stop midsentence. His hand cups your cheek and makes you look up, it was the boy from the docks, you avoid eye, "I don't want anything from you" he states wiping your tears away with his thumbs, "Just do as your told and you should be fine" your lips tremble as a sob builds up in your throat, it comes out a bit but your hands clasp over your mouth. You don't want to anger the man, "Hm" a satisfied hum as he let's you go and walks toward your kitchen.

He takes out herbs from his pockets and removes your kettle from its cabinet. You wanna question how he knows it's there but you don't wanna get in more trouble so you stand in the exact spot, frozen by fear. Kazuha starts a tea with the herbs and while he's bending down for cups you decide to run, your room wasn't far and though you're not one for risks- your life wa on the line anyways. As you make a right your left arm hits the wall and you resist the urge to stop. But you're barely half way down the hall when a gust of wind slams you into the wall at the end. You cry out in pain as your ears ring from the impact you have a cut on your forehead and when your hand comes up to press on the wound his foot steps on it pinning it down. It hurt like hell as you look up and fave your captor he seems upset but not in a, "How dare you" way but in a, "You give me no choice" kind of way.

The man slings you over his shoulder as you cry into in back he places you down on a chair in the dining area. A warm cup of tea is waitirfor you, "Drink." he demands pushing the cup closer. You're too busy wiping the tears off your face but he slams his first down on the table, which catches your attention, and though you're crying you nod and grab the warm cup.

You drink a few sips then put your cup down sniffling, "S-sir..." you pause before crying into your hands, "Don't hurt me, m'sorry. I don't know what I d-did wrong" you sounded so pitiful as he points to the cup, "Drink it. All. " he demands grabbing the cup and pushing it into your lips. Submissively you do so, it's hot and it burns your tongue and throat a bit but you tough it out and try to force yourself.

You don't remember anything after that, everything went black soon after you finished your cup. Kazuha however, remembers everything.

He picked you up and tossed you onto the bed and began hungrily taking your clothes off. He left hickeys on your neck and collarbones as his hands fondled your warm boobs. "Mmm, what a pretty girl" he whispers pulling at your soft nubs. His tongue licks between your breast and chills ran down your unconscious spine. You shift in your sleep as he flicks your nips. He watches your face in awe as it contorts when he sucks on your tit. A small moan leaves your lips and he almost looses it, he quickly unbuckled his pants and pushed you into a matingpress position. His spat on your already wet pussy hoping to help it lube things up. Kazuha tries to take it slow, but as soon as his tip enters your warm hole he whimpers and start pounding into you. The bed creaks with each thrust as labored breaths and huffs leave your mouths. A moan escapes him when your pussy clenches around his cock. He wonders if you could sense how good he's making you feel. "Aha~" you cry out and he realizes that nails are digging into the fat on your hips. But he doesn't stop, it turns him on and he picks up the pace, "It's ok sweetie- ah- almost there" he reassures your knocked out form. You cum on his cock and he's still chasing his climax as sweat drips down your faces and tears brim his eyes. A moan of relief leaves his mouth when he cums inside your cunt, he collapses onto your front side and looks at you for a bit, "I still have time" he mumbles wiping his tears of joy. "Gotta make sure you don't leave me" he flips your over onto your stomach and pounds your pussy from behind. He'll make sure you can't walk in the morning, and that his seed finds your sweet unfertilized eggs.

[cal-writes]

been in a immorcation (immortal/reincarnation au) mood recently. i dont know if i shared this before actually but either way enjoy some law being a mess

-

Zoro is lightning fast, within one moment and the next he is crouching in front of Law, his one eye as intense as laser. Law presses back against the wall and suddenly becomes aware of the intense burning pain in his arm. He looks down to see his sleeve soaking with blood.

“Oh shit.” He says, wanting to lift his arm only to have the stabbing pain race through his entire body. Zoro’s hand grabs his wrist and holds him still as the other rips into the hole in his sleeve. “Hey! Ow fuck.” He protests before he sees the wound. “I got shot.” 

Zoro tilts his head to the side. “Just a little. Hold still.” He says, reaching over Law’s head for a dish towel to press against the wound. The rough fabric burns against the ripped flash and Law flinches despite himself.

Zoro wipes the blood off and Law dares a glance. “Oh thats so much worse when it’s yourself.” He mutters and Zoro snorts before he stands. “I need stitches.” 

“I know.” Zoro tells him as he moves about the tiny kitchen area of his boat, flicking on a kettle. 

“Please tell me you have a first aid kit.” Law says, letting his head fall against the wall.

“Why would I have a first aid kit?” Zoro asks as he rummages around a cupboard and unearths a sewing kit.

Law whines miserably. “How did this happen?”

“Police shot at me. Ricochet probably hit you.” Zoro explains and pulls a face. “Stupid guns get faster every year and I’m out of practise.” He says like its a completely normal sentence to say.

Law laughs weakly. “You deflected gunfire with swords that’s still pretty impressive. Didn’t know that was possible.” Zoro makes a dismissive noise, pours the boiling water from the kettle into a pot on the stove to keep it cooking and Law closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to see him desinfect a sewing needle in boiling water. 

“At least it was a small caliber. Older bullets would have broken your arm.” Zoro says.

“Speaking from experience?” Law blinks and sees Zoro stick his entire arm into the hot water.

“Yeah.” Zoro’s arm is coated in black when he takes it out of the water, needle and thread pinched between his fingers and a dripping steaming towel in the other.

Law gapes. “Your arm-“ He starts to say as the black reteats from Zoro’s arm, leaving only his hands and the needle covered in it. “Is that also part of the immortality thing?” He asks as Zoro crouches back down.

“No, that’s armament haki.” He says and presses the hot towel against Law’s wound. Las inhales sharply through his teeth, legs kicking out without his control but Zoro’s grip is firm. “It makes my skin harder and whatever I am pouring energy into. It’ll make the needle sharper.” He explains and if Law weren’t bleeding right now he would make fun of that concept.

“You- you said that before. Haki. In my apartment.” He says to think about anything else but the pain and the fact that he got fucking shot. 

“That was a different kind.”

“How many are there?”

“Three.”

“Armament and what was the one you used back then?”

“Haki that makes you pass out.” 

Law takes a moment to give Zoro a glance. “Really?”

Zoro just hums, focused on sewing Law’s skin back together. 

“Who came up with that name?”

“Dunno, never asked.”

“I could come up with a better name.”

“You do that.” Zoro says, looking at him and grabbing a pair of scissors to snap the end of the thread. And Law realizes he’s already done sewing the wound.

“You’re fast.” He says, looking down to examine the work. Five neat and even stitches stand out starkly against his skin. “And good.” Law admits. It took him two years of med school to sew skin that neatly.

Zoro presses the burning towel back against the skin making Law hiss in pain. “I had practice. Mostly on clothing though.” He says and rips apart what appears to be white sheets.

“Really?” Law asks with a whine as Zoro uses the scraps to wrap his arm.

“We’re heading somewhere I can pick up some supplies. Calm down.” He tells him and Law scoffs.

“I think I am remarkably calm considering the circumstances.” He says.

Zoro blows out a breath from his nose. “True,” He admits. “Are you going to pass out?” He asks, looking at Law with faint amusement.

Law squints. Everything feels swimmy as the adrenaline fades. “Are you using the makes-you-pass-out haki?”

“No, do you want me to?”

“No, I think I have it covered actually.” 

“I’ll wake you when we get to land.”

[shadowjackery]

The Gladdest Thing Under the Sun

I honestly thought we were supposed to wait a couple of days after the zine’s release, but, heck, everyone else is doing it, so here we are: My contribution to @gensokyozine​ . I’ve wanted to do this story for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

Descriptive text for the visually impaired or for easy quotation:

PAGE 1

Title: "Shadowjack presents: The Gladdest Thing under the Sun"

Yuuka Kazami, a youkai woman, climbs the cracked stone steps to the ramshackle Hakurei Shrine. She carries a parasol. Up the wooded hill, through the pines, stand the shrine gate and two guardian komainu -- one of whom, Aunn, is alive and waving cheerfully, tail wagging. The plum and cherry trees atop the hill are in bloom. Dandelions sprout as Yuuka passes.

PAGE 2, PANEL 1

Title: "Yuuka Kazami, Flower Mistress of the Four Seasons"

Yuuka wears a summer outfit that evokes the mid-20th century: a vest over a short-sleeved blouse with a necktie, a knee-length pencil skirt, hose and heels, a handkerchief neatly folded in her vest pocket. She also wears glossy leather gauntlets and tight sleeve garters. Her hair is bobbed and curled in 1930s fashion. Her eyes are slitted, like a snake's.

She rests her head on her hand and gazes up at Reimu, rapt. A cat with black and white fur, spotted something like a yin-yang ball, lies nearby, watching her carefully.

PAGE 2, PANEL 2

Title: "Reimu Hakurei, Mysterious Shrine Maiden of Paradise"

Reimu, a human woman with a long ponytail, looks down at Yuuka, sweating slightly. She says, "Um... you know..."

PAGE 2, PANEL 3

Reimu wears her usual red-white shrine maiden robes and ribbons, much patched and threadbare. She is barefoot on the porch, holding a broom.

Reimu: "When you look at me like that, I get the feeling I'm about to be CUT and PRESSED."

Yuuka is shocked. "Oh, my! I would NEVER. A wild flower is best viewed in its natural habitat, always!"

PAGE 2, PANEL 4

Reimu, smiling: "I'm a wildflower?"

Yuuka, grinning: "One of the best!"

PAGE 3, PANEL 1

Reimu greets Yuuka at the entrance to her residence. Yuuka bows formally. She has brought a package, wrapped in cloth with a floral pattern.

Yuuka: "Ojama shimasu."

Reimu: "Hai, hai."

Reimu: "Everything is flowers with you, isn't it?"

Yuuka: "It could hardly be otherwise, dear! I am what I am."

PAGE 3, PANEL 2

Yuuka takes off her shoes, while Reimu places the parasol on the weapons rack by the door. The top shelf holds scrolls, boxes labelled "needles" and "seals", and one Mk 2 hand grenade.

A large sign by the rack says in printed text, "Check ALL weapons before coming in! Including but not limited to: Swords, Axes, Bows, Spears, Guns, Wands, Staffs, Parasols, Lasers, Bombs, Poisons, Curses," and so on.

A handwritten post-it note has been tacked to it, saying, "SEIJA -- Do NOT obey this!"

Another, ripped and faded sign has been taped by the list, adding, "MARISA -- Whatever it is now: NO. I mean it."

There is a bullethole next to the sign.

A different yin-yang cat watches Yuuka.

Reimu says, "So what kind of flower is Marisa?"

Yuuka: "She reminds me of pampas grass."

Reimu: "?"

Yuuka: "One of a few varieties of cortaderia, somewhat resembling susuki."

PAGE 3, PANEL 3

The two women go inside where there's more shade.

Yuuka: "It's a fast-growing, invasive species that can contribute to rat infestations and dangerous wildfires."

Reimu, laughing: "A WEED!"

Yuuka: "But charming in its way."

PAGE 3, PANEL 4, OFFSET

Somewhere, Marisa sneezes.

PAGE 4, PANEL 1

In Reimu's kitchen, the two together prepare afternoon tea, while two different cats beg at their feet. Reimu pours hot water from a large kettle into a cast-iron teapot. Yuuka takes down bowls and cups, and opens up the Japanese-style lunchboxes she brought.

Yuuka has put on an apron that parodies the "piyo piyo apron" worn by Kyoko in the manga "Maison Ikkoku", but instead of a drawing of a baby chick on the chest, it has a drawing of a Dragon Quest slime, saying "suu suu".

Reimu: "You aren't bothered she stole the Master Spark from you?"

Yuuka: "Oh, Marisa didn't steal it from me! She bargained for it fairly."

Reimu stops what she's doing to turn toward Yuuka. "Bullshit."

Yuuka: "It's true! I was curious to learn a little magic, and in exchange for lessons I agreed to trade her a cutting."

Reimu: "Huh!"

Yuuka: "I don't mind helping another gardener to improve their art. She makes it bloom well, doesn't she?"

PAGE 4, PANEL 2

Yuuka carries a tray of sandwiches and snacks out of the kitchen.

Yuuka: "Besides... to cast it ONCE, she needs a device."

A surprise second Yuuka, with long hair, and wearing trousers instead of a skirt, whisks the teapot and cups from Reimu's hands, leaving Reimu with nothing to do.

Yuuka, the second: "But I by myself can cast it TWICE."

PAGE 5, PANEL 1

Only one Yuuka again. Yuuka and Reimu kneel on the veranda to take their tea. One yin-yang cat nearby sprawls asleep in the sun, an orange tabby circles curiously, and a third cat sulks by Reimu.

Reimu: "Okay, then how about... Alice?"

Yuuka: "Ohhh... Alice is special. With her pride and ingenuity, she bears the seed of great potential for power."

PAGE 5, PANEL 2

Yuuka beams with enthusiasm. She says, "Why, if one could but prune away a few of her mortal failings -- such as 'restraint' or 'mercy' -- she could make a truly MARVELLOUS youkai!"

We can now observe that Yuuka's necktie is not knotted, but instead held by a silver woggle marked with a "lily of the valley" emblem.

PAGE 5, PANEL 3

Yuuka blushes happily. "She might even be stronger than I. Wouldn't that be an interesting day?" A heart floats in her words.

Reimu tries to hide her concern. She thinks, "Ganbatte, Alice-san..." But only says out loud, "...er, uh... and Yukari?"

PAGE 6, PANEL 1

Yuuka grins wolfishly. "Yukari and I have an arrangement: She doesn't meddle in my garden, and I don't BURN DOWN hers."

Reimu: "Isn't it weird that a youkai of FLOWERS is so good at fighting?"

Yuuka: "I'm surprised to hear that from a Japanese!"

Reimu: "You say that like you're not."

PAGE 6, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "I am known in many lands, by many names, wherever flowers grow."

Yuuka narrates the scene from the foreground, wearing a woman's kimono and lacquered okobo sandals. She carries now a Japanese-style paper parasol. Her hair is tied up in a bun with a cherry-blossom kanzashi, and she wears a sunflower hair ornament. She is surrounded by flowers: chrysanthemum, hollyhock, and birthwort, and above her spreads blooming sakura.

Yuuka: "Did not your own samurai describe themselves as cherry blossoms, and fight for emperor and shogun under the banners of the chrysanthemum and hollyhock?"

In the midground, two armored samurai clash. The lower-status one has fallen to the ground; the richer has a bloody slash across his left eye. He swings his sword and chops the grounded man's spear in two, but the other is undaunted.

In the background, an army of horse and foot mounts the top of the hill, banners billowing.

PAGE 7, PANEL 1

Now Yuuka narrates wearing a huipil dress with embroidered shawl, and simple leather slippers. Her hair is done in buns, with a Mexican sunflower by her ear. A hummingbird flies near her. Growing around her are Aztec marigold, dahlias, banana yucca, and Mexican hat flowers.

Yuuka: "Across the sea to your east, the mighty Mexica gathered their 'hummingbird' soldiers to send to the 'Flower Wars' (they named them) to gather honor, blood, and sacrifices."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Nahuatl, one poor, one rich with a slashed left eye. The poorer one wears only a loincloth, and has a shield slung over his shoulder. His shield is painted with a hummingbird design, and from it hang a few feathers. The richer soldier wears a full-body jaguar costume, and wields a macuahuitl war-club. The poor soldier leaps to his feet and tackles his enemy, disarming him.

In the background, an army of Aztecs battle below a stepped pyramid and high mountains.

PAGE 7, PANEL 2

Now Yuuka narrates wearing men's doublet and hose, embroidered with fleur-de-lis and tulips, along with knee-high riding boots and gauntlets. Around her neck is a sunflower pendant. On her shoulder perches a falcon. About her feet, and entangling the narration boxes, are red, white, and yellow roses.

Yuuka: "And to the far west, the lords of the English struggled for a choice of kingly roses, red Lancaster or snowy York."

In the midground, the fighters are now two Englishmen, again one poorer, the other richer with the eye injury. The poorer soldier has some mail pieces and a simple brimmed helmet; the richer has plate armor, a full helm, and a shield. The rich fighter is overthrown, his foe about to stab him through the visor with his own arming sword.

In the background, mounted knights charge a line of archers behind wooden stakes. A church or fort stands on hills in the far distance.

Yuuka: "Flowers and War have always been intertwined."

PAGE 7, PANEL 3

We return to Reimu's veranda and cherry trees.

Reimu: "You've seen so many strange places... Do you have a favorite?"

Yuuka: "...it was in the west, in Flanders, perhaps a hundred years ago."

PAGE 8, PANEL 1

Yuuka invisibly narrates: "Such a war, Reimu! The men burrowed like moles, or took to the air like kites."

Above barbed wire, two airplanes spit tracers at each other. It is World War One.

PAGE 8, PANEL 2

Yuuka: "They plowed the earth with cannon, night and day."

Shirtless German artillerymen fire their gun amid sandbags. Something explodes close by.

PAGE 8, PANEL 3

Yuuka: "They slew by shot and poison, fire and blade."

A gasmasked French soldier, armed with pistol and entrenching tool, cautiously moves down a trench. An unseen enemy waits around the corner with rifle and bayonet.

PAGE 8, PANEL 4

Yuuka: "And for no purpose that I could see, no treasure nor slave."

Barbed wire and ruined buildings.

PAGE 8, PANEL 5

Yuuka, narrating: "The destruction was so maniacal it seemed no tree, no blade of grass, would ever grow there again. I thought you humans had gone absolutely mad!"

Yuuka, wearing colorful hat, coat, and umbrella, stands on a windy no-man's land, surrounded by dull mud and broken pieces. Tracer fire crosses the sky, coming from a distant machine-gun nest. She notices, but does not bother to avoid, the few bullets that land near her.

Yuuka, narrating: "But it was I who did not understand your passion. When I learned your true intentions, I was deeply humbled."

PAGE 8, PANEL 6

Yuuka, narrating: "Did you know, Reimu? You can find graves in the wild by how the flowers grow. (Bone meal makes such good fertilizer.)"

The corpse of a soldier lies upon the ruined earth. But near his outstretched arm, a single bluebell, and a few patches of grass, have sprouted.

PAGE 8, PANEL 7

Now there are no bodies, but grass and wildflowers and bumblebees cover the ground. A shattered helmet has a flower growing through the holes.

Yuuka, narrating: "I tell you that after this great war, those fields FLUORISHED with color. Rainbows spilled on seas of green grass!"

PAGE 9

Yuuka, narrating: "And ever after, all through those lands, the people wore blood-red poppies, to remember and give thanks to their kindred who slept below, for this sight they had worked so hard to create."

Yuuka wears early-20th century men's hunting clothes: a sturdy jacket and breeches with knee-high boots and gloves. Her curled hair is in a loose pompadour. As ever, she has a parasol. The sun shines warmly. The hill Yuuka walks down is covered in grass and bright red poppy flowers, stretching on forever. The plants almost completely cover a few remaining pieces of military hardware: a broken machine-gun, a lost helmet, a twist of barbed wire. Yuuka smiles.

Yuuka, narrating: "Tens of thousands of men willingly buried themselves for nothing better than the GLORY of FLOWERS!"

PAGE 9, PANEL 2, INSET

We return to Reimu's veranda. Yuuka clutches a handkerchief, almost overcome with romantic tears.

Yuuka: "It was the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen!"

Reimu stares at her and says nothing.

PAGE 10, PANEL 1

Yuuka says, "Excuse me!", wipes her tears, and takes out her compact to redo her makeup.

Reimu thinks, "Yuuka is one of my oldest friends, but she really is a monster, isn't she? I don't even know how to BEGIN to explain the truth to her... or if I even should."

PAGE 10, PANEL 2

Title: "FLOWERS appearing in this story."

Many cut flowers are arranged on a wooden surface, with identifying captions. In no particular order, they are: primrose, fleur-de-lis (yellow iris), common sunflower, anemone, dandelion, Mexican sunflower, tulip, rose, cempoalxóchitl (Aztec marigold), dahlia, banana yucca, Mexican hat flower, pineapple sage, bee orchid, celandine, Flanders poppy, lily-of-the-valley, bluebell, daffodil, kiku (chrysanthemum), aoi (birthwort), hollyhock, ume (Japanese plum), and sakura (Japanese cherry).

PAGE 10, PANEL 3

In a simplified art style:

Reimu pats Alice on the shoulder and says, "Alice, we sure attract some weird ones, don't we?"

Alice wears her usual workdress and hairband, but also has sturdy explosive ordnance disposal goggles and gloves. She is inserting a stick of dynamite into the back of a Hatsune Miku doll. Other dolls and marionettes (and one teddy bear) fill the room, all with visible dynamite fuzes sticking out of their heads, and all with glowing eyes.

Alice says, "Don't disturb me when I'm setting the explosive charges! If they went off, they could hurt the dolls."

Reimu: "...This is why she likes you, you know."

Alice: "?"

END

[little-desi-historian]

A listing of 18th Century slang compiled by Leon Bienkowski and posted to the Revlist in 11 installments–last posting in June, 2000

A listing of 18th Century slang compiled by Leon Bienkowski and posted to the Revlist in 11 installments–last posting in June, 2000:

“The terms listed below were mostly gleaned from Partridge’s Dictionary of Slang and Unconventional English. There is a bit of a nautical bent to this list because of my own peculiar specialty, but there should be plenty of amusing and useful terms for everyone.

Your underly industrious servant,

Lee Bienkowski”

A

Abbess - a woman who is a brothel keeper

Abraham-sham - a feigned illness

Academician - a whore

Cast up one's accounts - to vomit

Admiral of the Blue - a publican

Admiral of the Narrow Seas - a drunk who vomits into a neighbor's lap

Adrift - discharged

Adzooks! - an expletive

Air and exercise - a flogging at the cart's tail

Akerman's hotel - Newgate prison

All Nations - a mixture of drinks from unfinished bottles

Amen-curler - a parish clerk

Amidships - the belly

Anatomy - a very skinny person

Bring one's ass to an anchor - sit down

Anne's fan - thumbing one's nose

Talk like an apothecary - talk nonsense

Apple-dumpling shop - a woman's bosom

Hang an arse - to hold back

Arse upward - in good luck

Ask bogy - an evasive reply

Avast! - Stop!

B

Not to know B from a bull's foot - to be ignorant

Bacon-faced - full-faced

Bacon-fed - fat and greasy

Empty the bag - to tell everything

Heavy baggage - women and children

Bagpipe - a long-winded talker

Bailed man - a man who has bribed the press gang for immunity

Baked – exhausted

Banbury story – nonsense

Bark at the moon - to agitate uselessly

Barnacles – spectacles

Barrel fever - ill health caused by excessive drinking

To grin like a basket of chips - to grin broadly

Bear - a very gruff person

Beer-garden jaw - rough or vulgar language

Bring to one's bearings - cause to see reason

Drink like a beast - to drink only when thirsty

Beau-Nasty - finely dressed but dirty

To go up a ladder to bed - to be hanged

Beef-head – idiot

Beggar-maker - a publican

Belly-gut - greedy, lazy person

Bender - a sixpence

Bird-spit - a small sword

Bit of red - a soldier

Black arse - a kettle

Black cattle - a parson

Give a bottle a black eye - empty a bottle

Blashy - rainy weather

Blood and 'ounds! - an exclamation

Blue as a razor - extremely blue

Blue stocking - a learned woman

Blue tape – gin

Shift one's bob - to move or go away

Bog orange - a potato

To marry old boots - to marry another man's mistress

Bosom friend - a body louse

To have some guts in one's brains - to be knowledgeable

Brandy-face - a drunkard

Brattery - a nursery

In bad bread - in a disagreeable situation

Break-teeth words - words hard to pronounce

Gold bridge - an easy and attractive means of escape

To be stabbed with a Bridgeport dagger - to be hanged

Broganeer - one with a strong Irish accent

Brown cow - a barrel of beer

Brown George - ship's biscuit

Buck fitch - an old lecher

Like bull beef - big and grim

Bull calf - a big clumsy fellow

Bull's eye - a crown piece (5 shillings)

Bung one's eye - drink heartily

Bung upwards - on his face

Butter-bag - a Dutchman

Buttock-ball - a dance attended by prostitutes

C

Calfskin fiddle - a drum

Cant a slug into your breadroom! - have a drink!

Caper - to be hanged

Captain Copperthorn's crew - all officers

Captain Grand - a haughty blustering man

Captain Tom - leader of a mob

Cat-sticks - thin legs

Caterpillar - a soldier

Caulker - a dram

Chalk - to strike someone's face

Chatter-broth – tea

Christened by a baker – freckled

Cinder-garbler - a female servant

Cite stage - the gallows

A house of civil reception - a brothel

Clapper-claw - to thrash someone soundly

Clicker - one who shares out the booty

Closh - Dutch sailors

Coach wheel - a crown piece

Cock and pie! - a mild oath

Coffee-house - a water-closet

Cold cook - an undertaker

Comb-brush - a lady's maid

Comb one's head - to scold

House of commons - a privy

Condiddle - to steal

Conveyancer - a thief

Cool crape - a shroud

Corinth - a brothel

Make a great harvest of a little corn - much ado about nothing

Corporation - a large belly

Cotswold lion - a sheep

Country-put - a silly rube

Covent Garden ague – VD

Crab lanthorn - a peevish fellow

Crinkums – VD

Crown-office - the head

Cucumber - a tailor

Cut throat - a dark lantern

Swear like a cutter - swear violently

D

The dam of that was a whisker - a great lie

Dangle in the sheriff's picture-frame - to be hanged

Dasher - showy harlot

Drunk as Davy's sow - very drunk

Deadly nevergreen - the gallows

The devil among the tailors - a row or disturbance

Devil-drawer - a bad artist

The Devil may dance in his pocket - he is penniless

Diddle – gin

Gone to the Diet of Worms - be dead and buried

Dilly - a coach

Dog Booby - an awkward lout

Enough to make a dog laugh - very funny

Dog-vane - a cockade

Dog's portion - a lick and a smell

Dog's soup – water

Go dot and carry - a person with a wooden leg

Double Cape Horn - be cuckolded

Roby Douglas with one eye and a stinking breath - the breech

Draggle-tail - a nasty, dirty slut

Draws straws - to feel sleepy

Drury Lane vestal - a whore

Duke of limbs - a tall awkward fellow

Dull-swift - a stupid fellow

Die dunghill - die cowardly

Drunk as an emperor - regally drunk

Dustman - a dead man

Dutch concert - everyone plays or sings a different tune

Dutch feast - the host gets drunk before the guests

E

Earwig - a malicious flatterer

Ensign-bearer - a drunkard

Eternity box - a coffin

Expended – killed

To have fallen down and trodden upon one's eye - to have a black eye

F

Hove no-one's face but one's own - to be penniless

Facer - a glass full to the brim

Make faces - to beget children

Faggot - a man hired to appear on a muster-roll

Fallen away from a horse load to a cart load - to become fat

Fantastically dressed - very shabby

Fegary - a prank

Fiddler's money - all small change

Fiddlestick's end – nothing

Finger-post - a clergyman

Fire a gun - introduce a subject unskillfully

To have been fed with a fire shovel - to have a big mouth

Fish-broth - salt water

Flag of defiance - a drunken roisterer

Flag of distress - the cockade of a half-pay officer

Flap with a fox tail - a rude dismissal

Flapdragon – VD

Flash the gentleman - pretend to be a gentleman

Flash it away - show off

Flats and sharps – weapons

Flawed – drunk

Flay the fox – vomit

Flump - an abrupt or heavy fall

Fly in a tar box - nervously excited

Foreman of the jury - one who monopolizes a conversation

Foul a plate - dine with someone

Frenchified - infected with VD

Frig-pig - a fussy trifler

Froglander - a Dutchman

Full as a goat - very drunk

Fustilugs - a dirty slattern

G

Gallied - hurried, vexed or over-fatigued

Gallows – enormous

Game pullet - a young whore

Gammon – nonsense

Gardy-loo - Look out! (Garde l’eau)

Gaskins - wide breaches

Gentleman in red - a soldier

Gentleman's companion - a louse

Melancholy as a gib cat – dispirited

Give one's head for washing - to submit to be imposed upon

Glass-eyes - person wearing spectacles

Glorious - ecstatically drunk

Glue-pot - a parson

God permit - a stage coach

Golden grease - a bribe

To find fault with a fat goose - grumble without cause

Play old gooseberry - play the devil

Gospel-shop - a church

Gotch-gutted - pot-bellied

Grapple-the-rails – whiskey

Green-bag - a lawyer

Greenwich goose - a Greenwich Hospital pensioner

The cat's uncle gringog - a grinning idiot

Groggified – tipsy

Ride grub - ill-tempered

Guinea-gold – dependable

In the gun – tipsy

Gundiguts - a fat pursy fellow

Gut-foundered - extremely hungry

H

Half an ounce - a half crown

Half seas over - half drunk

Hand like a foot - clumsy handwriting

Hang-gallows look - a villainous appearance

Hanktelo - a fool

Swallow a hare - to get exceedingly drunk

Under hatches – dead

Young hemp - a graceless boy

Hempen bridle - a ship's rigging

Hen-frigate - a ship bossed by the captain's wife

Herring-gutted - tall and very thin

To be on the high ropes - be very angry

Study the history of the four kings - to play cards

Old hock - stale beer

Hog in armor - a finely dressed lout

To drive one's hogs to market - to snore

Holiday - a spot left unpainted

It's all honey or all turd with them - they're either friends or bitter enemies

Off the hooks – peevish

Hopper-arsed - large bottomed

Send for a horse ladder - send on a fool's errand

Horse's meal - food without drink

I

Irish apricot - a potato

Irrigate - take a drink

Itchland – Scotland

J

Jack Adams - a fool

Jack in an office - an imperious petty official

Jack of legs - an unusually tall person

Jack Weight - a fat man

Jakes - a privy

Jaw-me-down - a very talkative fellow

Die like Jenkin's hen - die unmarried (Scottish)

Have been to Jericho - be tipsy

Jerrymumble - to shake

Going to Jerusalem - to be drunk

Jimmy Round - a Frenchman (from Je me rends)

Be laid up in Job's dock - be treated in hospital for VD

You are Josephus Rex - you're joking

K

Kerry security - breath the oath and keep the money

Kicksees – breeches

Kill-devil – rum

One of King John's men - a small man

Clip the King's English - to be drunk

Knob - an officer

Knock-down - strong liquor

L

Laced mutton - a whore

Ship the white lapel - be promoted from the ranks

Lazy as the tinker who laid down his budget to fart - very lazy

Cut one's leg - become drunk

Lay one's legs upon one's neck - run away

Lie with a latchet - tell a great lie

Light-timbered – weak

A line of the old author - a dram of brandy

Little house - a privy

Live lumber - passengers in a ship

Live stock - body vermin

Looking glass - a chamber pot

Lotman - a pirate

Louse-land – Scotland

Lumping pennyworth - a great bargain

M

Mab - to dress carelessly

Mag – chatter

Maltoot - a sailor

Man-a-hanging - a person in difficulties

Married to Brown Bess - enlisted in the army

Mauled - exceedingly drunk

Make mice-feet of - destroy utterly (Scottish)

Milk the pigeon - attempt the impossible

Load of mischief - a wife

Who put that monkey on horseback without tying his tail? - a very bad horseman

Monkey's allowance - more rough treatment than money

Mopus - a dull, stupid person

Morris - to decamp

Mourning shirt - a dirty shirt

Look like God's revenge against murder - look very angry

N

Eat one's nails - do something foolish

Navel-tied - to be inseparable

Born on Newgate steps - of criminal extraction

Nip-cheese - a purser

Dead as a nit - quite dead

Make a bridge of someone's nose - pass the bottle past someone

He numbers the waves - he's wasting time

O

Oaken towel - a cudgel

Give one his oatmeal - to punish

Off the hooks – crazy

Old Robin - an experienced person

Open lower-deckers - to use foul language

Overshoes, over boots – completely

Take the owl - become angry

P

Paddy-whack - an Irishman

Cut's one's painter - send a person away

Palette - a hand

Paper-skull - a fool

Parleyvoo - the French language

Parson Palmer - one who slows passing the bottle by talking

Make a pease-kill - to squander lavishly (Scottish)

Penny lattice-house - a low ale-house

To drop off the perch - to die

Peter-gunner - a bad shot

Peter Lug - one who drinks slowly

Pintle-merchant - a whore

Piper's wife - a whore

Tune one's pipes - begin to cry

Piss more than one drinks - said of a braggart

Pitt's picture - a bricked up window

When the plate-fleet comes in - when I get my fortune

Plump currant - in good health

Pontius Pilate - a pawn broker

Popper - a pistol

Prattle-broth – tea

Princod - a plump, round person (Scottish)

Alter the property - disguise oneself

Prow - a bumpkin

Public ledger - a whore

Pudding-bellied - very fat

Pump ship – urinate

Punch-house - a brothel

R

Rabbit hunting with a dead ferret - a pointless undertaking

Rag-water - bad booze

Rammaged - tipsy (Scottish)

Rapping – perjury

Red-letter man - a Catholic

Remedy-critch - chamber pot

Repository – a jail

Rib-roast - to thrash

Ride as if fetching the midwife - to go in haste

Ride the forehorse - to be early

Cry roast meat - boast of one's good fortune

Roast-meat clothes - holiday clothes

Rocked in a stone kitchen - a little weak-minded

Rogue in spirit - a distiller

Royal image - a coin

Rum gagger - one who tells false sea stories of hardship

Loose in one's rump – wanton

Rusty guts - a blunt, surly fellow

Buy the sack - become tipsy

S

Saddle the wrong horse - lay blame on the wrong person

Saddle one's nose - wear spectacles

Salamugundy - a cook

Salt eel - a thrashing with a rope's end

Sandy - a Scotsman

Sauce – VD

Sawney - a Scotsman

Sawny - to whine

Scald - infect with VD

Scandal-broth – tea

Scarlet horse - a hired horse

School of Venus - a brothel

Scotch casement - a pillory

Sea-crab - a sailor

Sea-lawyer - a shark

Settler - a parting drink

Shab-rag - very worn

Shake a cloth in the wind - be hanged

To have been dipped in the Shannon - to be very forward

Shapes - a name given an ill-made man

Keep sheep by moonlight - hang in chains

Sheep's head - a very talkative person

Shifting ballast - soldiers aboard ship

Shiners – money

Make children's shoes - to be occupied with trivia

Shreds - a tailor

Shut-up house - land headquarters of a press gang

Sick of the idles - a very lazy person

Silver-cooped - deserting for the merchant service

Sky-blue – gin

Snabbled - killed in battle

Smart as a carrot - very smartly dressed

Go a snail's gallop - move very slowly

Soldier's bottle - a large bottle

Solo player - a very bad musician

Sot-weed – tobacco

The Sovereign's parade - the quarterdeck of a man-of-war

Spanish trumpeter -a braying donkey

Spoil pudding - a long-winded preacher

Squire of the placket - a pimp

Stiff-rump - a haughty person

Take a stink for a nosegay - be very gullible

Stoupe - to give up

Strip-me-naked – gin

Sunburnt - having many children

Surly boots - a grumpy person

Surveyor of the highway - a reeling drunk

In deadly suspense – hanged

Keep a swannery - to boast

Purser's swipes - small beer

Swizzle – liquor

T

Tallow-breeched - having a large bottom

Tears of tankard - liquor stains on a waistcoat

Tea-voider - a chamberpot

Thornback - an old maid

Three skips of a louse - worth little or nothing

Tickle-pitcher - a drinking buddy

Tiff - thin or inferior liquor

Tilly-tally – nonsense

Tilter - a small sword

Swill like a tinker - drink immoderately

Make dead men chew tobacco - keep a false muster

Tol-lol - pretty good

Tongue enough for two sets of teeth - a very talkative person

Blast your toplights! - Blast your eyes!

Topping man - a rich man

Pay one's debts with the topsail - run off to sea leaving unpaid debts

Tripes and trillabubs - nickname for a fat man

Trunkmaker-like - more noise than work

U

Untwisted – ruined

The Urinal of the Planets – Ireland

V

Vaulting school - a brothel

W, X, Y, Z

As wise as Waltham's calf - very foolish

Wamble - an uneasiness in the stomach

War-caperer - a privateer

Water bewitched - weak beer

Water in one's shoes - a source of annoyance

You have been to an Irish wedding - you have a black eye

Whigland – Scotland

Whisk - an impertinent fellow

Whister-clister - a cuff on the ear

Whither-go-ye - a wife

Wife in water colors - a mistress

Windy – conceited

Wrapt in warm flannel – drunk

Yea-and-Nay man - a Quaker

Znees - frost

Source. Further reading. regency. hardcover edition.

[swordbisexual]

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

Went and gave myself feelings with this by the end, thank you.

--

“No. Not yet.”

Vissenta feels a low, slow-moving frisson of heat at the sound of Gale’s words from behind her, spoken not moments after she’d pushed herself up onto one elbow, ready to quietly extricate herself from the bedroll to begin the day. His voice is lower and huskier when roused from the throes of sleep. Less practiced, less refined, and in that less is more: more weight, more tenderness, more warmth. That more is what draws Vissenta back down, along with the feel of his hand on her hip, the calloused ridge just below his fingers rough against the softness of her belly, sending another lick of heat down her spine.

Eight tendays it’s been, since Vissenta’s life split wide open - since she woke up, since she can remember, since everything turned upside-down and inside-out - and her greatest source of comfort, her greatest source of constancy, has been to awaken before everyone else in camp. A brisk walk, a good stretch, a hot drink waiting for her from the banged-up kettle she nestles right into the coals of the dying fire before she sees to her morning ablutions. Eight tendays - a nice, round number, she thinks, a number she’d like to mark as an occasion, somehow - and somewhere in the middle of the fifth, she discovered that constancy might be overrated.

Or, perhaps, she’s simply had to shift her definition.

For all his talk of being up with the lark on the first night they’d made camp, Gale has been frustratingly difficult to rouse of a morning. Even now, with Vissenta trying to rise early most of the time since they started to share a tent - half the time, she amends now, turning over to hook one thigh over his, the movement just as habitual as those when she warms up her sword arm for a practice swing - he’s done more to keep them both from beginning the day with any sort of habit that might resemble austere consistency.

Well. They might be consistent, but together, they’re far from austere.

Vissenta presses her lips to Gale’s neck, feeling the contented hum in his throat thrum pleasantly against them, and she smiles, knowing that though he can’t see the curve of her lips, he can feel it, evidenced by his hum fading out into a sigh. “I thought you were in a hurry to get into the city.”

His hand rests on her backside now, and with a gentle squeeze, he pulls her even closer, burying his nose in the mussed thicket of waves at the top of her head, brushing his lips to her hairline before he replies. “We’ll be far better prepared to travel in the light of day.”

“There’s daylight.” Vissenta tilts her face up to take Gale’s in; he’s still heavy-lidded, half-asleep, and like this, in the blue-gray of the soft space before the dawn, he looks more peaceful and content than ever. She reaches a finger up to trace his lower lip, following the quirk of his smile. “The sun is nearly up.”

“The full light of day.” His eyes flutter open in brief reproach, but that reproach is instantly softened by the tilt downward of his chin as he closes the space between them, his lips meeting hers with her finger still lingering at where the corners meet. “An important distinction, I think.”

She could get used to this. The thought slides in between the moments when he draws back, tilts his head, kisses her cheek, her chin, and back to her lips again. She can, in this moment, imagine the two of them doing this every morning, without uncertainty, without threat, without the urgency of the encroaching day tickling the back of their minds.

Like she’s done for more than half of these days together, she relents. “All right,” Vissenta says, feigning annoyance and surrender as she blissfully, willingly sighs another kiss just to the side of Gale’s half-smile, letting her eyes slide shut as he pulls her back into him. “The full light of day, then.”

[albatris]

find the word tag!

thank you @illarian-rambling for tagging me in my favourite tag :3

my words are animal, ocean, pick and wall

ANIMAL

"Hey, Nat, where do you get your blood from?" She carried on without waiting for a reply. "I get mine from a slaughterhouse out in the country. Whole place run by vampires. Pretty neat business, super friendly. Do you want me to hook you up?"

Nat’s face scrunched up before he thought to stop it, and he was glad Riley was focused on the TV. "I couldn’t do that. I’m a vegetarian."

"Oh, dude, are you?" Riley said. "That’s fucking unfortunate. Vegetarian vampire. Oof. You squeamish about blood, then?"

Nat hadn’t considered this. "I’m… squeamish about animal blood. As long as I don’t drink animal blood I’m still a vegetarian."

"People don’t count?"

"Nah, I don’t think people count."

"Right on, dude." Riley skewered several aliens on her sword. "You’re so weird."

Nat filled the kettle and put it on.

"Animal blood isn’t as nice as human blood, anyway, hey?" Riley said. "But you’re not, like, killing someone every time you need a meal, right? Right? Nat?"

"No! Of course not!” Nat said. “I have a friend helping me out." A friend whose texts you’re ignoring.

OCEAN

Cypress Heights was one of those suburbs. Filled to bursting point with sprawling botanic gardens and multi-storey houses and boutique stores where everything cost more than Nat’s entire payslip. The streets were gorgeous and the schools were posh, but in the nice way. The way that spat out prim, proper kids born of opportunity, who always made a good impression on everyone and had articles written about them in newspapers. Darwelaide teen’s unconventional new method of cleaning oceans proves most effective world has ever seen!

Not to say all Cypress Heights kids were insanely successful, and not to say all Nats and Lyras were not. But if you scooped up a bucket of Cypress Heights kids and a bucket of Nats and Lyras and compared them as a whole, you could sure see the difference.

PICK

A pulse picked up pace somewhere ahead of him, hammering frantically out of time with his own, as his prey realised the position it was in. Nat started down the hall, footsteps light and springing and utterly soundless. He could hear it all, feel it all, in the vibrations through the building, in the air—the shuffling of a moving body, the swish of clothing in motion, the fearful, rapid press of shoes across tile. His throat ached. His mouth watered. The Garble pushed through his veins, tripped all the right wires in his head, sent pulsating, twitching, radiating warmth through every inch of his body. Rewarding him for the good job he was doing. Urging him to continue.

This was what he was built for. This was the most natural thing in the universe.

Nat broke into a run.

WALL

“Make yourself comfortable!” they said, and headed for the staircase at the far room. “I’ll be back in just a tick—I’m going to put your clothes in the wash.”

“Okay,” Nat said, distracted.

He supposed this was a living room. It looked more like a museum than a house, with its curling arched ceilings and marble floors. A twisting abstract sculpture stood by a set of double swing doors leading out of the room: shimmering blue and green glass, folded over itself like a ribbon, reaching up towards the roof. Abstract paintings loomed on every wall, confusing splashes of colour and shape, including one Nat thought looked rather like a dog chewing on the leg of a chair. Up a short step and to the right of the living room lay a lush dining room, with a marble table to match the floors. The table runner was strewn with candles and flower petals. Soft. Delicate. Nat already felt out of place here, like a scab that had started to itch.

I'm gonna tag @chauceryfairytales @tracle0 and anyone who can see a CAT right now :3

for the words storm, bite, bring and settle!

[vc-blackhouse]

On the ninth night of breath, Lilith unbinds a knife from the blackcurrant curls of her hair.

[hauntinghyrule]

Perhaps #2 from the hurt/comfort list, with Red and Blue? 🤎🤎🤎

2 - "Drink some of this tea, it will warm you up."

Affection prompts || Hurt/Comfort prompts

-----

In all the excitement of reuniting, it had been easy to miss, but Blue was still shivering even minutes later. Even after the little fairy had spirited them away to a warmer part of Hyrule.

Red frowned, watching him: walking with his head down, shoulders tense, arms crossed firmly over his chest, but even that wasn't enough to hide the shivering.

"Wait, Blue—"

"What." Blue snapped, and Red could see the moment he winced to himself at the harshness in his own tone.

Maybe that stint in the ice really did chill his hot head a bit, Red thought, and then immediately regretted his word choice as another bout of shivers wracked Blue's body.

Red pressed his lips together, eyes narrowed in thought. "I'm sorry I lost my sword," he said, and watched Blue blink in surprise at that turn of the conversation.

"It... probably wasn't... entirely your fault," he allowed.

"Still. All I've got now is this new weapon I don't know how to use," Red said, giving the Fire Rod a little demonstrative twirl. A couple sparks flared to life and he almost dropped it in surprise. It wasn't — entirely — for show. "I think we should stop and make camp while I practice with it. Right now, if we get attacked by monsters, I might be more danger to us than to them."

"That... might be a good idea." Blue eyed the Fire Rod warily.

"Great!" Red smiled and clapped his hands. "That looks like a good spot for a campsite over there, you go sit down and I'll collect some wood to start a fire. For practice."

The fact that Blue did as he was told without argument was probably further proof that this was absolutely necessary.

Red gathered firewood as quickly as he could. The Fire Rod made quick work of the dry wood, and soon they had a roaring campfire going.

Red very politely made no comment on how relieved Blue seemed to be to huddle next to it.

"I could still use more practice, though." Red pretended to think about it for a moment, before brightening. "I think my pack was the one with the kettle in it. I could make tea!"

He started digging through his bag — and if he happened to toss a blanket at Blue in the process, it was only because it had been on top of everything else and he needed to get it out of the way. Eventually he found what he was looking for, and set about learning to use the Fire Rod to boil water.

A little while later, he passed a warm mug to Blue. "Here, drink some of this tea," he said. It will warm you up, he didn't say. He didn't have to. They both knew what he meant.

[earthlybodystudio]

Howdy, I'm Kay!

Nice to be back, Tumblr! I'm a game designer, poet, and indie publisher. I love exploring the mundanity and the magic of the everyday, and my work creates spaces for resting, reflecting, and connecting.

You might know me as the creator of Your Friend in Witchcraft, an epistolary RPG that just successfully funded on Kickstarter! Create characters, build worlds, and exchange handwritten letters in this creative storytelling game for two players.

Or maybe you've seen one of my small games:

As the World Falls Down, a 5-minute solo game inspired by Labyrinth

Morning Walk, a whimsical one-page adventure inspired by the series of random encounters that is walking my dog

& WITH MY ANGER I WILL GROW, a celebration of trans rage

On the indie publishing side, you might know me as the founding editor of Sword & Kettle Press and our literary journal Corvid Queen! We publish inclusive, queer, & feminist fantasy, fairy tales, and speculative writing.

You can see more of my work on my website or itch.io page!

Tumblr was the very first social media platform I ever used, and although I've gotten myself off the others, I do miss seeing rad art and connecting with folks, so here I am again! I'll be posting about my games, sharing other indie games I love, and tbh, probably reblogging a lot of Baldur's Gate fanart.

[necrophcge]

@zcrayas // x

It had been some time indeed since a tarnished had gotten more than a few terrified swings of their sword or loosed poorly aimed arrows at him before meeting a gruesome end. To not only anticipate the arrival of a Recusant, but bait her own trap for him alongside two of her fellows... vexing, infuriating to say the least. Perhaps the rumors were true, and those said to be gathering in Limgrave were truly possessing in warrior's blood, for the quarry of this most recent hunt had proved to be a far fiercer creature even after her companions had been felled.

He Who Meddles can think of no other explanation as the gaping wound upon his side openly weeps, viridescent blood dripping steadily through the clawed digits of one hand as the other three struggle to drag him forward through the darkness of the tunnel. His abdomen twitches and heaves beneath the growing exhaustion, air drawn in and out noisily as he shoulders into one of the walls of stone with an unpleasant scraping of chitin and claws. Gathering himself, gnashing fangs and mandibles against the growing darkness at the edges of his sight, he pushes himself off and stumbles forwards. Passing out here, in the warmth of the manor's hidden alcoves, would only leave him weakened and vulnerable to the other denizens of the volcano...

To say nothing of Tanith, who wouldn't be pleased to be kept waiting once she realized he'd returned without informing her of his success.

Sanctuary was within reach, however. As the tunnel came at last to an end and the faint glimmering light of candles illuminated one of the manor's empty halls, He Who Meddles allowed himself to relax ever so much. Pressing and prying with what arms he could spare, the stone gave way enough for him to writhe through before resealing the entrance back into the illusion of smooth stone. How grateful he was that so late into the evening all the manor was asleep rather than witness to his current state of being.

At least until he tasted the scent upon the air.

A man-serpent? Here? His mandibles gnashed together, pressing close against his face even as he hissed lowly, the noise comparable to that of a boiling kettle as his many-eyes flitted for the source of heat and scales and sharp-fang... before settling on a girl, half-hidden behind a door and wielding only a candle and a shaking voice against him. Chitin rustling uneasily, claws flexing and curling, He Who Meddles regards her warily even as she speaks, mind attempting to draw some sort of sense from whatever he's seeing here. A man-serpent, but a girl? In the manor?

It comes to him then, cleaving through the fog of pain and exhaustion and frankly growing hunger. This must be her, then-- the one who was not to know anything of what occurred deeper into the Serpent's lair. "... you must be the Lady Rya." He Who Meddles clamps down fiercely on the urge to simply disappear and let his wounds remove him from this encounter, instead dipping his head slightly. Tanith seemed to like that, perhaps her "daughter" would as well? "I... apologize. It wasn't my intent to frighten you."

[adrift-in-thyme]

Hiya Trin! I’d love the commentary on this bit from your one whumptober fic :D It hurts so much, Time’s rambling is just. hhhhhh. much ow.

As gently as possible he pushes Time back onto the log, even as the older hero tries to wrench himself out of his grip. Twilight can feel the panic building steadily within him like water boiling in a kettle. If he can just get him to settle down before it grows out of control…

“You can’t–” The old man gasps, breathless and trembling. “Twi..Twilight…I have to…No!”

Abruptly, he reels back. Before Twilight can react, a fist collides with his face. The rancher stumbles. His grasp slips. With surprising speed, Time lunges for his sword.

“Ganondorf is coming!”

The fear is blatantly visible on his face now, terror audible in his voice. Twilight freezes, hand stopping halfway through its journey to touch his newly bruised cheek.

He’s not the only one with the arm strength of a moblin, apparently.

“Sweet Ordona…”

Time whirls and the rancher is forced to leap out of the way of his sword’s reach.

“Have to get the sages, have to save Zelda…” He takes a stumbling step forward. A particularly violent shudder races through him and the weapon slips from his grip to land with a dull thump on the earthen ground. “Get to the castle….can’t lose this time–all going to die…what a terrible fate…”

Twilight ducks down and snatches Time’s claymore before he can reach for it again. At that moment, Wild scrambles up to his side.

“Here!” He grabs the sword and presses a potion into Twilight’s hands instead. “Lemme get this out of reach and I’ll come help you hold him down.”

Twilight nods. He clenches his hand around the bottle, forcing an inhale through his nose. Time’s words have cut him straight to the core and left him winded and shaky. Never before has he seen the old man this vulnerable, this scared. It just isn’t right, to see his mentor gaze at him like a child seeking refuge from the monsters that stalk the night.

…a child with the world on his small shoulders.

“Time.” His voice trembles the slightest bit and he clears his throat. “I need you to trust me.”

Time freezes before him, teeth chattering, breath coming on haggard half-gasps. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“N-no.” He shakes his head. “Only have three days. The clock resets — e-everything’s over. Have to sta…start again and I can’t… please don’t make me.”

He’s speaking pure nonsense now — at least Twilight desperately hopes that’s what this is — but it’s enough to shatter his heart. What nightmares has the hero endured to inspire a plea like this? What secrets haunt him?

…what regrets?

Ooh I had a lot of fun writing that part lol

So this fic — and this snippet — came out of a mixture of my combined mission to write what I want to read (which in this case was a Time sickfic XD) and to allow Time to be vulnerable. Because while none of the boys are particularly great at being vulnerable I feel like he’s one of the worst (in part because he kinda becomes their unofficial leader/parental figure leaving him no choice but to be strong). And what better way to get a guy to open up about all that juicy trauma than to give him a dangerously high fever? XD And if I could throw in some angst with Twilight (who I’ve realized during a recent reread doesn’t actually know much of Time’s backstory) learning in the worst way some of the stuff his mentor has endured? Even better.

So Twilight is thrown into this situation that no one wants to be in — seeing the terribly human weakness in someone they look up to. And I wanted him to see all of that weakness. I tend to forget how traumatizing OoT was for Time because Majora’s Mask’s creepy vibes made the haunting moments of that journey more prominent for me. But I made a point to make myself remember that here (hence the stuff about Ganondorf, the sages, and Zelda). Plus, at this point I headcanon that Time knows at least a little about the Downfall timeline and his fate in it. So, he references that too (saying that he can’t lose this time).

Basically, Time feels like a kid again. He’s scared, he thinks the sky’s gonna fall at any moment. But so does Twilight. Because here’s two extremes: the hero who soldiered on all day and the broken man who is still trying to save everyone despite being dangerously sick. It’s terrifying tbh. Plus this dude just punched him and he isn’t even sure what to think about that (besides OUCH and RUDE lol).

And Wild’s thrown through a loop too. He’s not as close to Time as Twilight is but they definitely are close. And he’s seeing some of himself in Time rn. He knows what it’s like to have your worst memories come back at the worst times. Which is why he immediately wants to jump in and help Twilight (he also feels bad his brother got punched lol).

Basically a bad time (hehe) for all

And Twilight’s definitely gonna have some questions for Time after this. He may not ask them outright (he doesn’t want to pry). But he always wondered what caused Time to become the Hero’s Shade and now he’s thinking…is all this crazy, nonsense-sounding stuff what basically tied him to this plane of existence? He needs some answers

I feel like I’m rambling so I’m gonna stop now lol but thanks!! <33

[dude1818]

Magical Revolution ep 2 was cute. I love how hard Anis was coming onto Euphyllia, only for it to be a heartfelt desire for an assistant and hype woman (”I’m stealing you away for myself! ... as my assistant”, “I want you to discover love ... for magicology”). Except she’s also unabashedly just trying to get laid, but trust her, that doesn’t take away from how good an assistant Euphyllia would actually be XD

The glimpse into the laboratory was interesting. The broom and energy sword from ep 1 made perfect sense in the setting, but Anis has a whole stash of very specific modern technology that’s instead powered by spirits. Compare with Kamigawa: Neon Dynasty, where it started as a world filled with magic and Shinto-style spirits, and then figured out how that would develop into modern and near-future levels of technology. The functions are the same, but the shape language is very much driven by how magitech would develop

MagiRevo is a comedy, so it starts from the other side: here’s modern items, how do we change them under the hood to run off magic. I realize that’s kinda what’s happening in the story, too, but there’s a level of commitment to the bit that’s implausible. The thermal pot is sensible; a tea kettle is already as functional as it can be. But a hair dryer, phonograph, or coffee press have so many externalities into why they’re built like that which don’t exist in this world!