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TDM 010: PARTNER UP, PARTNER
| TDM 010: PARTNER UP, PARTNER |
00. Arrival This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore. Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased. With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the “comfortable” barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home. I. Laid Bare Basics There is a new addition to the scenery at the beach, and everyone is welcome! Especially new arrivals, who will be ushered to the recently-established Laid Bare Spa, where (provided they don't slip away from the bots' helpful grasp) their uncomfortably wet, sandy clothing will be stripped away and they will be lovingly pampered by the cold metal hands of the resident robots. Long-time Islanders and newbies alike are welcome to enjoy such amenities as hot and cold baths, sauna rooms, scrub-downs, thorough whippings with birch brooms, skin treatments, massage and energy work, and more! All rooms are thoughtfully decorated with tasteful murals of naked and disrobing bodies. Maybe you'll see someone you recognize?! (Maybe you'll see... you?) Islanders who happen to find their clothing mysteriously missing are welcome to borrow a Laid Bare branded towel to cover up with on their way home. II. Tattoo to You, Too The Augur understands that sometimes, it's difficult to find a partner to indulge you in those favorite Auspicious Acts - especially for new arrivals, but surely even long-time residents could benefit from a little assistance now and then. That is why ever-benevolent entity has gifted Her precious Islanders with tattoos which feature their most secret, urgent, and/or shameful of desires! (Even if that desire is to simply complete a Bingo.) The tattoo may be a picture or a word, and it can appear anywhere on the body. At first it is pleasantly warm to the touch, like a soft glow of light on your skin. It soon becomes apparent - through either robot advice or a notification on your communication device - that your task is to find a match for your tattoo and complete the depicted act with that person. The longer one goes without completing the act, the more the tattoo seems to heat up, until it feels like it is burning into your skin. Take too long, and the tattoo may become permanent. Otherwise, the tattoo will fade within hours of completing the Auspicious Act. [ For TDMers: feel free to select any favorite kink for this prompt! If you complete a kink that doesn't appear on your card, you may switch one square for the completed kink. For current players: by participating on (tagging into) this TDM, you may switch one kink into your card (it must be the kink in the toplevel prompt you responded to). ] III. Creepy Crawly Caterpillar Crawl Are you on the hunt for credits? Then have the robots got a task for you! The 'bots of the Nameless Island are recruiting Islanders to go bug collecting in the caves, crevices, and hollowed-out logs of the wilderness. The quarry? The (shudder - literally, the robots will shudder) doom-summoning harbinger bug. They describe these creepy creatures as fat, fuzzy, and rainbow-colored, with long, fluffy antennae that look like rabbit's ears. The robots describe these critters as so dangerous that Islanders should only hunt them in pairs. Should your team return successful, you both will be rewarded very handsomely for every caterpillar caught! The bugs are typically very docile and seem to enjoy soft pets, judging by the cooing and squeaking noises they make (especially to scritches behind their "ears"). Poke or disturb them however, and they may bite! Body parts bitten by angry caterpillars will swell up cartoonishly, and can only be treated by having someone else suck the venom out. Good thing you're traveling with a partner! The 'bots strongly recommend against keeping these little buggies as pets, but they're not your dad. N A V I G A T I O N |
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"Believe me, I'm honored." Caspar never stayed still, even when people dared him to. Linhardt's friend was a chaotic bundle of energy, and he isn't any more likely to change than Linhardt is. But sometimes they compromise.
A hostage. Linhardt smiles, but it's not a particularly happy smile, "I suppose in a metaphorical way. Hostages of our own decisions." Because leaving would be even worse; to let the consequences of their actions fall on the people of Fodlan instead of on himself. Linhardt may be a coward, but he draws the line at getting others hurt.
But more importantly, the war is over for Caspar. His smile turns warm, "I'm glad for you. Is it odd to say I wish I could read his book? Or would it be my book?"
He would be more than content to continue that line of discussion, but Caspar knocks the wind out of him with his declaration of protection, "Thank you, Caspar. That's nice to hear." It's honest, to the point, and sincere, "I'm sure your Linhardt will be fascinated by all of this."
"Although he might judge me for not figuring out this tattoo problem more quickly." Linhardt leans back on Caspar's chest and holds up his wrist again, "I fear I'm not representing the Linhardt collective very well right now." He gives his friend an encouraging smile, to say 'I'm okay, thank you for listening'.
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"Well, maybe we can put our heads together. It's a feather right? And like... this place wants all kinda funny business." He struggles a moment but can't seem to put the pieces together. "Well we have a feather! Actually we have two!" He produces another owl feather from seemingly nowhere. Byleth had a habit of giving them to him for lack of anything else.
He stares at it intently, and it's clear from the expression in his face he's already lost the plot or lost interest in whatever it was he was tryin to work out in his mind.
"Hey are you still ticklish?" He doesn't wait for an answer, he just dives the feather into the crook of Linhardt's neck.
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...
Guide Caspars, apparently. Because oh dear. Linhardt badly hides a smile as Caspar shoots past what Linhardt is suspecting is the correct conclusion. Then he's looking at a feather and now there's one near his neck.
"No, Caspar. No." Yes, Caspar, he is still ticklish. And now he's squirming away from you.
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"Yes! Yes you are! Ahaha!" Well, so much for that. He's intent on pinning Linhardt and going for the ribs and belly. "C'mon you know you wanna laugh! Gimmie those giggles, Lin." He's abandoned the feather in favor of simply using his hands.
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"I swear I will Warp you 10 feet into the air. I will. And then you'll fall down and I'll have to fuss over you and fix you. And I'd much rather skip those parts and proceed."
Proceed into what, Linhardt doesn't say. He wants to see if Caspar has figured it out yet or if he's just gone in a weird direction.
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"What if I do it nicely?" The abandoned feather is carefully picked up again now, and he very gently slides it against his friend's neck.
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It causes pleasant shivers to run across his neck and down his spine, so Linhardt sighs happily like he does when Caspar plays with his hair. He arches his neck to the side, offering Caspar more skin in case he feels like doing that again.
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"Is that nice?" It certainly does well to scratch his own itch, and that tattoo feels slightly less irritating right now. "Wait- c'mere. Lay against me."
Caspar takes a moment to prop himself up, motioning for Linhardt to come lean against him. This now, with intent, sends a little thrill through him. Maybe they are going to do something. Maybe- maybe, maybe, maybe, they'll get to kiss.
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Goddess, it's all so... innocent. That's what it is. Linhardt opens his eyes to stare at his friend, but he does as he's told turning to lay so that Caspar is up against him. How long has it been since Linhardt has felt innocent in any way?
He stares up at Caspar and presses himself against his friend, enjoying Caspar's warmth, "Did you have an idea?"
Is he teasing? Possibly. Really, their friendship demands it. Some promises are too ancient and binding to be broken.
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"Maybe." He returns the teasing tone, smiling into Lin's hair.
Carefully, he edges his fingers up under the hem of his shirt, lifting the fabric away enough to let the feather reach and slip under, flicking along his bare stomach and the edge of his trousers.
"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?"
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He jumps when the feather falls on his midsection, laughing sharply. Ticklish. He shakes his head Caspar's question, "Caspar, I'm not so..."
So what? He checks in with his partners, why is the idea of being checked-in with so strange? It just is. It's strange to be on this side of it. To be the recipient of such care and concern.
Linhardt smiles and shakes his head again, this time at himself, "Thank you, Caspar."
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I'm going to paint your body with this feather. The thought smacks him squarely in the back of his mind like a ton of bricks. He actually gives a startled laugh at himself.
"Boy howdy, this place really does it to you, doesn't it?" He chuckles, "Hand me that other feather, would ya?" He has two hands after all, and not only is this clearly making Linhardt feel good, it's making him feel good, in more ways than one.
"Also... hey. Um. Can I kiss you?" This as he's dragging those soft tines up further to the cleft of Linhardt's chest.
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At least he stops, though. Linhardt lets himself breathe and enjoy the slow strokes of the feather on his body, it's oddly gentle from someone like Caspar that Linhardt knows as an overflowing weight of enthusiasm. He peeks one eye open to look at his friend.
"This feather?" Linhardt holds it between his fingers, "Someone very important gave me this feather for a special occasion. I can't just go around handing it to anyone." He pretends to consider this very important request, "I suppose, since it's you." Linhardt kisses the tip of the feather and presents it to Caspar, "Especially since I don't need one."
Linhardt calls up the barest wisp of power and uses the air to tickle the back of Caspar's neck, only to stop and look up at Caspar seriously when he mentions the island, "Are you alright?"
Well.
Apparently, he is, judging by the next question. It's so innocent, Linhardt has to fight the urge to reach up and kiss Caspar himself.
"Yes, Caspar, you can. I'd like that."
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He grins so wide it looks like it almost hurts. "Promise I'll take good care of it, cross my heart." He takes the feather, passing the tip over his own lips as if to somehow absorb that kiss off of it. The magic gets him though, and he gives a delighted bark of laughter.
"Yeah, I am I just like. Y'know. Feels a little warm all of a sudden." No matter that he's blushing all the way down his neck. He works his hands back under his friend's shirt, now armed with two of the soft owl plumes, tracing them up the contour of his torso again.
"I can? Oh that's. Awesome." He looks like he has to prepare himself, vibrating with excitement before he leans in and almost too carefully presses a kiss into Linhardt's lips. Caspar can't contain the happy hum that rises in his throat. Breaking away after just a second before deciding he needs another.
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And the fact that he's flushed and his breath is hitched doesn't mean that messing with Caspar isn't hilarious.
A bit warm. Yes. Linhardt can see that. Goddess, how is his friend so oblivious and yet so good at this? Because the return of those warm hands underneath the fabric of his shirt contrasted with the softness of the feathers makes him wriggle- Linhardt isn't sure if he wants more of Caspar's hands or more of the feathers- or both.
That's awesome? Linhardt can't help but give Caspar a flat look with a raised eyebrow, because really? But his friend makes up for his lack of eloquence with his enthusiasm, his carefulness. Linhardt would say Caspar is treating him like a delicate gift, but Caspar doesn't show this much consideration for his gifts.
He returns the kisses softly, then brushes some hair out of his face before leaning in to initiate a kiss of his own. Linhardt is slow, teasing open Caspar's mouth with his tongue and taking the time to see what Caspar likes. Should he nip at Caspar's lip? How should he move his tongue? Does Caspar like it when Linhardt pushes his way into Caspar's mouth or would he rather be guided into Linhardt's?
Eventually he breaks off because they do require air. Sadly.
He lies back and looks satisfied, licking his lips slightly, "Still 'awesome'?" Linhardt asks.
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The returned kiss, far less chaste earns a soft gasp though. He opens his mouth obediently, hesitating as he works out what he's supposed to be doing. The feeling of Lin's tongue passing against his own makes him feel dizzy. It's a good dizzy. It's not long before the excitement takes over and helps him. Caspar seems to appreciate everything. There's something thrilling about letting Linhardt push into him like that, and when he returns the gesture there's even more pleasant shivers waiting for him.
When they do finally part again, he's panting, mouth still half open. His hands are braced, still clutching the feathers that he's forgotten to move.
"Uh-huh." He nods, eyes wide with just a little awe. "I didn't know kissing could be so good." Now he's definitely shaking, his hands remember to move and he draws the feathers up further, up the mage's chest, the tines catching over the soft peak of a nipple. It's unclear if that was intentional though, the starry-eyed expression on Caspar's face doesn't betray anything other than absolute adoration at the moment.
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At first, Linhardt worries that he's broken his friend. He doesn't know if he could live with that: With ruining this... this innocence that Caspar has somehow managed to hold onto after everything. Linhardt couldn't. He can't. He had to feel something, after he walked off a battlefield covered in blood and realized he didn't care. How can there be innocence after that? How can there be the way that Caspar is looking at him now?
This isn't. He shouldn't be doing this. He can't be looked at like that. Caspar is thinking of a better Linhardt.
Linhardt inhales when the feather travels over his chest, gasping slightly as it trails over his nipple. He catches Caspar's eye. The man is looking at him with such love and adoration he doesn't know what to do.
Linhardt's eyes fill with tears and, not able to verbalize why, he simply rolls on his side and curls up into a ball, arms wrapping around himself and eyes scrunching shut.
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"Whoa, whoa, hey." Caspar's voice is that soft sincere tone that he reserves for a handful of people, "It's okay. What's wrong? Talk to me." His hands collect the feathers briefly, setting them aside so he can better hold his friend.
"Am I that bad of a kisser?" He tries to break the tension with a little quip but he doesn't really commit to the joke all that fully. He just draws a hand over Linhardt's back. There's a part of him that worries he's done something wrong, naturally. That's the easy conclusion to come to, but he knows Lin better than that. This is something else. "Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right? I'll do whatever I can to help you out with anything. Just say the word."
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"No!" Linhardt's muffled voice is sure to object. No, Caspar isn't a bad kisser at all. Just an inexperienced one. Which is what makes him want to curl up and hide. How is he even supposed to explain? He doesn't know, and isn't that what he does? Explains things?
He sighs and lets himself unfurl slightly; Caspar's presence is comforting.
"It's the way you were looking at me. And how you were...are... experiencing all of this. It's clear to you that this is supposed to be for someone special."
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"Lin. It is for someone special. I couldn't think of anyone who I'd want to do this more with." His hand strokes down that smooth green hair, tucking it behind his ear. "Before you say anything, don't tell me that you're not. Okay? I can tell that's what you're thinking isn't it? Listen, even if this whole weird mismatched events thing is what you say, don't you think my Linhardt would want you to be happy too? He's going to be okay. You on the other hand-" He thumps his free hand against his own chest, "Look like you need some Caspar von Bergliez in your life! Nothing less, no substitutions, hold your applause please."
He steals a little kiss to the top of Linhardt's head, it isn't often he has access to it, after all.
"And no, I don't care about what you did before this. It doesn't make you any less you, and really Lin? That's what matters to me. Does it make you care any less about me?"
CW: War discussion, PTSD
"Of course not. You're Caspar." And that is more than sufficient for him, "I could never let any version of you wander around unaccompanied."
He understands what Caspar is saying, and he accepts it with a nod, there's just something else he wants to say. Linhardt's voice is quiet when he finally speaks, head tucked under Caspar's.
"I want to care. I do. I do." Because he cares less than he used to and that's wrong. He knows it's wrong. It's wrong to walk off a battlefield and not care about the literal blood. To watch people die of terrible wounds day in and day out and feel nothing but drowsy when he couldn't find any more magical reserves.
"How can I do this when I don't care, Caspar?" His voice is full of anguish.
The liaisons he had in Fodlan didn't present this problem: They knew. They were doing what they were doing to feel something, care about something, even if it was only for an hour. And here, it's the same, isn't? Don't think about the kidnapping, just feel something. Even with people he knows. Dorothea cares about him, but she isn't trying to take care of him.
That's his job and he can't help but feel he's failing.
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"Would you be hurting this badly if you didn't care? You know. Everyone deals with things differently. You know how I always make jokes and shout when I get nervous? Or when I'm sad or angry sometimes I get into ore fights than usual." Than usual. There's a quota. "Regardless of how things turned out... we've been in a war, Lin. There's no book on how to- how to be sad about things or how to feel. I mean, I don't think there is. Is there? If you really didn't care than nothing would have changed for you."
The war broke something in all of them. Even Caspar didn't get out unscathed. They all dealt with it in their own ways.
"You have always been one of the nicest people I know. I don't think that has changed, but you have this really, really bad habit of not protecting yourself. You're not a machine."
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"You're right." If a soldier came to Linhardt with the same issues, he'd consider it a problem. He did consider it a problem, even when they were technically fine. In peak physical condition even.
Caspar is the only person Linhardt can stand being lectured by. Perhaps it's because if it's gotten to that point, Linhardt has nobody to blame except himself.
To Linhardt, carving out time for his research is protecting himself. He'd live without food or even sleep before he'd have a life where literally every waking moment was a terrifying mix of despair, fear, and boredom. But that clearly isn't enough. Or maybe it is: He's still functioning, after all, and that's all they needed.
"I wish I were. Machines are predictable." It's his usual grousing about the world not making sense. It's funny how even though this Caspar has fought against the world Linhardt is fighting for, they still fall into their roles so easily.
"Thank you, Caspar." Linhardt studies his friend closely and then leans in to kiss him softly, "I'm sorry that I worried you. I'll try to pay more attention to myself from now on."
He pauses.
"Though I'm not taking the time away from my learning. You are not going to believe the things I tell you, Caspar. Did you know there are other people like me here?"
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He's about to pick at the wishing he was a machine comment, but then Linhardt thanks him, and kisses him and his mind is immediately elsewhere again.
"Other people like you, huh? I dunno. You're one of a kind. Buuut I'm glad you have some other smarties to talk to. I assume that's what you mean. Unless you have a nap club here or something." Oh, right. He brandishes those feathers again. "Did you want me to uh- continue that?"
The mood is weird, but everything is weird with them.
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"Today is a good day," He agrees, although Linhardt lets out an oomph at being squeezed like a stuffed toy.
Oh. That's interesting. It's like Caspar's brain has an 'off' button like the lightbulbs. Linhardt grins at him, "The nap club is still a work in progress." He reaches out a hand, his shirt half fallen from where Caspar had unbuttoned it earlier, and strokes the line of his jaw.
"If you would. And then maybe next time I can find more of your 'off' buttons." He yawns.
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i canot believe I didnt hit post comment on this SCREAM
Re: i canot believe I didnt hit post comment on this SCREAM
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