MSV364



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    “Are you a cultivator?”

    “No,” she says, steadily. “This one doesn’t possess the core for it.” She pauses and raises her eyes to his, so boldly he finds it a little startling. “I believe that I can be of use to the Jiang sect in spite of that, and I have brought a gift to prove it. May I show you?”

    Fully intrigued now, Jiang Cheng nods. The girl unslings the bundle from her back, unties a couple of straps, and unrolls it on the floor in a smooth motion.

    Jiang Cheng is on his feet before he even consciously realizes it’s happened, and the reaction murmurs out through the hall. There, on a blanket that belongs on the back of a horse, are five Wen cultivator swords, offered to him by a girl who looks like the word “bumpkin” was invented specifically for her. What the fuck.

    “Where did you get those?” he asks, instead of asking “What the fuck?” out loud, because that would be unbecoming of his status as sect leader.

    The girl meets his eyes again, lifts her chin, and says simply, “I killed the men who carried them.”

    Or: Fan Dingxiang cultivates the swole path. Jiang Cheng doesn't know how to handle that.

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    16 Aug 2026

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    King’s Landing was too hot. Hot, and loud, and reeking of rancid sea air and the rankness of too many bodies bustling in too tight a space. Jon hated it and he had hated it since the moment he saw the towers of the Red Keep and the city’s high walls from horseback in the procession that brought him to the capital. Jon tugged on the collar of his doublet, pulling it away from his neck to let what little breeze there was blow onto the sweaty skin there. Jon was not made for the South, he decided. He was a Snow, made for cold and ice. Not for thick sea air and the hot southern sun.

    (Jon's lord father may be Hand of the King and his half-sister engaged to the prince but in King's Landing Jon Snow is nothing more than a bastard. Lonely and bored, Jon takes to walking the markets on the Street of Steel. Satin had come to King's Landing for a fresh start but finds himself living much the same as he had in Oldtown - wasting his days and working away his nights as a lowly whore in a brothel on the Street of Silk. By rights, they should never meet. By chance, they do. A story of friendship and love, desire and denial, push and pull, will and won't as two boys who were never supposed to fall in love do just that.)

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    23 Jul 2026

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    It took Shen Yuan a full week to realize he'd transmigrated into PIDW.

    In his defense, he'd woken up to a sky filled with blood rain, raging walls of hellfire, and a shadowy thing trying to take a bite out of his leg. He'd had to hit the ground running (literally, because that shadow thing had been hungry and fast) and hadn't had much time to take in his surroundings.

    Luckily he was fast in this life. His strange new set of goat-like legs seemed to help with that.

    In which Shen Yuan transmigrates as an incubus, and everyone realizes it but him.

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    15 May 2026

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    “Come on, Senju,” he said, grin sharp, voice carrying across the suddenly breathless crowd. “Let’s give them a show.”

    Half the audience gasped.

    Tobirama jerked out of Madara’s grip. “You are not helping.”

    Madara blinked, almost offended. “I’m trying to be encouraging.”

    “Encourage me from over there,” Tobirama snapped, pointing to a spot roughly three meters away.

    or

    The one where Konoha starts a madatobi conspiracy.

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    14 May 2026

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    Life after war has much more politics than Gimli thought, and much less Legolas than he would like, but the latter he knows (or believes) he has to get used to. Or: Legolas leaps, occasionally stumbling, into a new age, while Gimli can't see the wood for the (green)leaf.

    "How do your people court then?"

    The question was not as abrupt as it would seem, firstly because the news that his brother was courting had clearly left Legolas in deep thought for a number of days, secondly because Legolas had long ago confessed his curiosity about the lives and customs of Gimli's kin, and thirdly because Legolas' grace was well-known to be in his light feet and not his manners.

    However, Gimli saw no reason to let him have his own way entirely. "And by my people do you mean the Longbeards, or the Dwarves of Erebor, or the wandering mender that I now seem to be?"

    "I meant," Legolas said, "wandering jesters."

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    31 Jan 2026