#I wish I could remember when link recent did the NEXT thing

[unhinged-nymph]

Having so many thoughts about both of their reactions

[dawneternal]

The Benevolent | Eris x Healer OC | Five

☁︎ notes: I am sick and my brain is so foggy I'm sorry if I missed anything while editing

☁︎ warnings: injuries, blood, talk of physical abuse and abusive parents

☁︎ word count: 2.7k

☁︎ AO3 Link / Masterlist

☁︎ tags: @cauldronblssd @teddyhoneybear @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @imma-too-many-fandoms @allyjoe755 @milswrites @shadowdaddies @zenkindoflove @landofpetrichor

Throughout the next handful of calls, Eris found himself trying to collect more information about Aya. It was odd, this inexplicable and slightly overwhelming desire to learn more about her. None of the knowledge he gained did anything to supress his hunger for more. She had him captivated, even if he wasn't ready to put a name to what he was feeling. 

Getting her to open up proved to be a difficult task when his mother was present. The nature of Aya's recruitment had left its mark, like a splinter under her skin instead of the gold ring on her finger. Edana may have dug her own grave, but Eris hadn't, yet. He tried to make himself seem trustworthy. He would be an open book if it meant Aya gave a little of herself in return. 

There were plenty of reasons for this growing attachment to scare him. If he would even admit to it being an attachment. She had done something to him he couldn't explain. Her smile made him want to smile. Her softness made him want to be soft. It bothered him that she never spoke very highly of herself, a strange contrast to her confidence while working. Her hands never faltered, always precise yet gentle. She never struggled, no matter what manner of healing challenged her. Something in her mind clouded her ability to see her as he did - as something remarkable. Something unique and lovely, meant to be cherished.

And with that, there was a growing fear that Aya's heart was already taken. He thought of it every time his gaze caught on her talisman, every time he remembered Thesan's order of protection. It would seem from his perspective that the High Lord of Dawn was smitten with the healer. Thesan was likely waiting until Aya finished her training to propose. It stoked flames of jealousy within him, stirring up an ugly possessiveness that he did not like.

It was always at this point in his pondering that Eris stopped himself. None of it mattered. It did not matter how Aya felt about him, if her heart was promised to someone else. He had promised himself long ago that he would not pursue anyone while his father lived. He had too many other things to think about and his focus was already faltering because of this foolish crush. He had slipped up too often recently and had the scars to prove it. 

He ran through this list often in an attempt to reason with himself. To put an end to the current of emotions he felt when she walked into the room. But nothing seemed to stop it. The jealousy and the wondering and the golden glow he felt in her presence. He knew in his heart that he could not be the one to cherish her, but it did not keep him from envying the one who would.

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆ 

The gilded crowd seemed to move as one, a swirl of delight and gaiety. Aya stood in its center, dizzy and far too sober despite the glass of champagne in her hand. Supposedly, her appearance was mandatory. But as usual,  no one from her class of healers had spoken to her. No one from any circle had spoken to her. 

The glow of her ring caught her attention and she did a double take. Maybe it was the fae lights or wishful thinking. No, the ring really glowed, a band of warmth around her finger. She handed her glass to the nearest server, conjured her bag of supplies, and tried not to be too grateful for an excuse to leave the party. 

Eris stood in the garden near the winnow spot, his hand clutched to his chest. He didn’t seem to care that blood stained his beautifully embroidered jacket. Aya greeted him with a smile, but he took in her outfit and frowned. 

“Did I pull you away from a party?” He asked. 

Aya blushed, remembering what she wore. An iridescent gown that was almost sheer, cut low in the back to accommodate her wings. The neckline draped and fluttered, revealing a fair amount of her chest. It was likely a little scandalous compared to the modest fashion of the Autumn Court. She really should have grabbed a coat. 

“Oh, no,” She stammered, “I mean yes, I was at a party, but it's okay.” 

“We can work here in the garden and then you can winnow back,” He said, so calm even with the blood dripping down his arm, “You’re all dressed up, I’d hate to ruin that for you. I would think a dress like that is meant to be seen.”

The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile as he said it, eyes burning into her.

“No, really, it’s okay,” Her cheeks burned and she turned her gaze toward the stone garden path, “I was kind of looking for a reason to leave.” 

Eris’s eyebrows lifted and he looked like he wanted to ask her why, but he said nothing. Only gave her a nod and led the way to his room. Aya’s golden heels clicked softly in the hallway, jewelry jingling with every step. 

In Eris’s room, she kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag aside with an ease that made him smile. She’d grown comfortable here. He sat on the edge of the bed and waited as she got water from the washroom, hand still held tight to his chest. 

“What happened this time?” She asked, returning with a pitcher and a stack of rags. 

He held out his hand for her to see, but she brushed past him and crawled onto the bed, tucking her legs underneath her. The feathers of her wings brushed his shoulder as she moved, her scent of pomegranate and honey wrapping around him. He blinked at her for a moment, frozen by the image of her in his bed, her gorgeous dress and smeared makeup. It was not a daydream he’d ever had before, but one that would haunt him often, now. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” She started to slide off the bed, “That’s not appropriate, is it?” 

She forgot sometimes how much more casual the Dawn Court could be. 

“No, no,” Eris said quickly, “It’s okay.” 

She studied his expression for any hint of disapproval and found none. So she stayed put and began taking off her jewelry, tucking the chains and bracelets into a pocket in her satchel. She left her golden nose ring, adorned with a tiny sunstone. 

“Thank you,” She murmured, “My feet are killing me.” 

“Too much dancing?” He smiled and tried not to look too jealous. 

“Not exactly,” Aya sighed and motioned for his hand, “More like too much standing around, waiting to be asked to dance.” 

Eris tilted his head to the side, eyes sparkling with curiosity. She busied herself with unfurling his stiff fingers as gently as she could. 

“I’m not exactly popular with my peers,” She said, examining the deep gashes in his palm and fingers. She grimaced at the sight, but Eris showed no signs of pain. 

“Why ever not?” He asked. For a moment, she thought he was being sarcastic. But she looked up at him and saw that he was earnest. 

“My power,” She hesitated, “Doesn’t manifest the way healing powers typically do. It makes others suspicious of me. Not to mention they suspect nepotism because Thesan is my cousin.” 

He probably should have felt ashamed of the wild rush of relief, at that. His lovely mother had failed to mention that Aya was related to Thesan. There would be no betrothal after all, then. Unless the Dawn Court shared habits with the Ilyrians. He was about to do a little more prying, but she beat him to it. 

“You never answered my question,” She said softly, beginning to dab away blood with a rag, “What happened to your hand?” 

“Beron,” He grumbled, wincing for the first time, “He told me that if I was to act like a child, then he would punish me like a schoolboy. So he struck my hand with a ruler.” 

Aya paused and looked up at him, lip curled in disgust. Eris nodded in confirmation.

“He broke two rulers before he was finished,” He sighed, like this had been some mild inconvenience. Just another one of Beron’s antics. 

“I’d like to break two of his fingers,” Aya spat, earning a grin from the prince, “How long did you wait to call me?” 

“A few hours. I was waiting for him to leave the Forest House.” 

She leaned over to grab a fresh rag from the side table, and Eris’s gaze caught on her bare back. Aya almost froze, realizing what she had exposed to him, but she forced herself to move normally. He said nothing, but she could feel the weight of his gaze, could see his pursed lips in her peripheral vision. 

She may as well even things out between them. She knew the story of a good handful of his scars. Some were her own creation. He could know the story of hers. It wasn’t exactly a secret, anyways. Dawn Court clothes often had low cut backs to accommodate wings, and so her scars were often on display.

“The Illyrians aren’t the only ones who practice wing clipping,” She said into the silence, aware of how tight her voice sounded, “It mostly died out a long time ago, but there will always be extremists. My mother was one of them.” 

She paused, swallowing hard under the intensity of his stare. 

“Really, I think she was unhappy that I had inherited something so obvious from my father. She tried to clip me using magic, but I stopped her with my own powers. I saved my wings but I couldn’t prevent the scars. And something in her magic collided with mine and went wrong. I felt it in my bones. Ever since then I have had pains in my back. I’ve tried everything I could, saw dozens of other healers, but nothing gets rid of it.”

Eris was sure she already saw the irony of it. Her being a healer and not being able to heal her own chronic pain. He supposed they were very similar in that way, desperate to fix everything or everyone around them. All the while unable to fix themselves.

“I’m sorry,” He said. 

There was plenty he wanted to say, but nothing that would actually make a difference. That image would stay with him, the scars interrupting the smooth brown skin of her back, jagged like rivers on a map. He stared at her wings with a new appreciation, filled with desire to see them spread in flight as the sun filtered through her golden feathers.

He had a sudden urge to feel them. To reach out and stroke the feathers and find out if they were as soft as they looked. But he remembered all of the strange customs around Illyrian wings and kept his hands to himself. His blood heated as he recalled other rumors about those Night Court wings.

“What’s done is done,” Was her response. Her voice was a little far away now, either in memory or in focus. He could feel the tingling of his hand beginning to heal, and the warmth of shame over his thoughts of wing sensitivity. 

A silence settled as she worked and he swore he could almost hear a humming. Like her healing was an unheard song and his bones sang in answer. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but he also couldn’t tear his gaze away from her distant eyes and the golden sparks that glowed from her hand. 

He wondered if she knew what her eyes looked like while she was healing, pupils and irises filled with golden light. Like suns, casting a glow on everything in their path. It had alarmed him at first and then drew him in like a moth to a flame. She must know. It must be one of the reasons the other healers were wary of her, afraid of that golden fire. He realized that she never kept her eyes open if anyone else was around. 

She was like a beacon of light in the darkness of his room, golden and warm and shining. The list of things he admired about her was seemingly never ending. As was the list of things she made him feel every time they interacted. There was a lump in his throat, as he stared at her. So small and quiet, and yet something strong and lovely. 

His hand was almost healed. 

“You are so kind,” He said, just above a whisper. He was emboldened by her confessions, by the things that it meant for her to keep her eyes open around him. 

Her eyes returned to their normal misty color and she tilted her head at him. 

“In spite of all that’s been done to you,” He explained, all too conscious of the vulnerability he was showing. Was there any use in shielding his heart at all?

“I keep no ledger,” She said, looking down at his hand. It was healed, no trace of his wounds left. But she held on. “Against the world, against anyone. I’ve made kindness my fight instead of revenge. I have no reason to be cruel just because others were cruel to me. And if I am kind, it is one less thing that they have taken from me.” 

Tonight held the most words she had ever spoken to him. He savored them like he did every other fact she’d given him and committed them to memory. Everything she had to say was lovely. Everything said in her voice was lovely. He wanted to tell her that he admired her and that he wished he’d heard those words a long time ago. Maybe then, he could have dedicated himself to the cause of kindness instead of choosing cruelty as his shield. Or at least something besides malice. It was probably too late, now. Cruelty had settled into the very grooves of his being.  It was a habit so deeply ingrained that he was not sure he had the strength to claw his way out of it. 

When he lifted his eyes, he found that she was watching him like he had done moments ago. His gaze startled her out whatever she had been pondering, and she released his hand. Reluctantly, he pulled it back into his own lap, already missing her warmth. The smooth feel of her skin. 

“What will you do?” She asked, worry etching in her features, “About Beron? Surely, you won’t let things continue this way.” 

“There are things in motion,” He said slowly, calculating what he could and shouldn’t say to ensure her safety, “But of course, just those words alone could spark his suspicion. Right now, we are all playing a waiting game.” 

He did not know exactly what they were waiting for. All that he knew is that he’d know it when he saw it. He would not admit that to anyone, however. He would continue to play the part of a clever, cunning leader. He had been able to take advantage of the Night Court’s compromising position in the Spring Court, and now he had Rhysand’s support. More opportunities would present themselves, he knew. 

“Of course I’ll say nothing,” Her brows knit together even tighter, “And of course, I’ll be here. Until the last wound he ever inflicts.”

And after that, if you’d like. 

She slid off the bed and looked up at him. Something passed between them, metallic and shimmering like the golden light of her healing. Eris’s lips parted but no words came out. The way he looked at her made Aya wonder if he somehow knew what she had almost said, his eyes filled with a fire that danced like a candle flame. They said nothing more, but the change in the world was palpable. Each breath felt different than before.

After he’d walked her to the garden and returned to his bed, he found a single golden feather on his comforter. He picked it up gingerly, running a fingertip across its silky texture. Then he tucked it into his nightstand, wards snapping as the drawer shut. 

He had seen it in her face, the dangling invitation. Or maybe it was a request. Let me stay, her eyes had pleaded. It was a pain he had never known before, watching her winnow away. Knowing that he could not afford to dream of keeping her. To give her what she asked would be handing over her ruination. He would not let himself destroy such a perfect thing.

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch. 6)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): So I think this ends up being ten chapters? I'll try to post more frequently; I've tortured you all long enough haha. Though I'm hoping to get a couple different things out in the next couple of weeks, so you'll get more from me, just not always of this.

As always, masterlist linked here.

warnings: air travel, turbulence

wc: ~1300

~~

Damian turned from where he was watching you continue your project to face Jon. He pulled off his zip up sweater, tugging down the sleeve of his long sleeved shirt to hide the bandages Jon did at the hotel earlier in the morning, before passing it over to Jon. 

“Here.” Damian nudged him. “For the sunglasses.” 

Though he could feel your eyes on the back of his neck, Damian ignored you for now, taking his sunglasses back from Jon’s outstretched hand. In the corner, Jon curled into a ball, head tilted against the wall and face buried in Damian’s sweatshirt. Damian watched him for a moment, chest tight. No matter how many times he’d been through this with Jon, it didn’t get easier seeing him in pain. Jon flicked him a thumbs up and Damian relaxed, turning back to you. Overhead, the safety announcement came to a close. 

“He’s okay?” You asked, eyes fixed on Jon. Your arms, already wrapped around yourself, tightened. Damian nodded, eyes straying back to his left for just a moment before returning to you. 

“He will be, once we get up in the air and away from the chaos of the airport.” He tipped his chin at the project left abandoned in your lap. “How long have you been doing that?” 

“Oh a couple of years maybe? I’m not sure exactly. Do you,” you hesitated. “Do you do some kind of art? And you read Arabic, right? I saw the book you were reading last night.” Damian’s eyes scanned your face. You looked nervous, though genuine, and he found himself not minding the questions. It felt more like curiosity than idle small talk. He hated small talk.

“I do. And speak it.” Your eyes lit up. 

“Cool,” you breathed, smiling. “I’m not great at languages but I would like to be fluent in a few one day. And art?” 

“I draw,” Damian revealed. “And paint.” He fought to keep from mirroring your smile.

“That’s awesome. I write a little bit, but only as a hobby.”  

“Really? About what?” He asked genuinely. 

“Whatever I get motivation for I guess? I wish I had a better answer but I just like it.” 

“Doing things for liking them is an answer.” Damian could almost see you mulling the words around in your head. He took the moment to observe your features up close: beautiful eyes and an unexpectedly striking smile. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

“I know.” 

Your startled laugh tore the last of his self restraint down. Damian’s face split into a grin.

The two of you spent the next while talking about everything and anything. You shared your reasons for being on the plane at all, your favorite color, your other hobbies. In turn, he showed you pictures of his art, his cat and dog, and gorgeous shots of Gotham at sunrise. He had a lot of pictures of him and a brown man with shaggy dark hair and bright blue eyes. In the recent pictures, Damian began to overtake him in height. “My oldest brother,” Damian offered when you asked. 

“You’re the youngest?” He nodded. 

“Of several. I am one of the tallest, though.” 

“Oh boy,” you laughed. “I bet your older siblings hate that.” 

“They do.” 

And then there were the pictures of Jon. Jon by himself or with Damian’s pets, Jon captured in Damian’s art, and Damian and Jon together. 

“Where was this?” You asked. In the picture, Damian was standing on a pathway covered in a dusting of snow, bundled up and on crutches. Jon, in a blue zip-up and jeans, was making a snow angel on the ground in much deeper snow beside him. 

“A few winters ago. In Gotham.” 

“I remember that snowfall” You thought back to the remnants of a Mr. Freeze plot. Following Batman’s intervention, all that was left was a snowy cold front. “But mostly I stayed inside and caught up on work during the snow day. And watched too much TV.” Damian huffed a laugh. 

On his other side, small snores emanated from the pile of denim and red fabric. Jon didn’t wake when the flight attendant came around with snacks. Damian accepted Jon’s pretzels for him.

“How long have you two known each other?” You asked, some time in. Damian looked over at Jon. The lights in the cabin were dim, and both boys were bathed in shadow. 

“A decade or so, now,” he said. Then, a little quieter. “He’s my best friend.” 

“You’re a good friend Damian.” Your eyes followed his over to Jon. He looked smaller than you’d ever seen him, all 6ft something curled up in an economy airplane seat. “He’s lucky to have you.“And I know I don’t know you guys that well but I can tell he’s a good person. And that you’re lucky to have him too.” 

Damian didn’t argue. 

“I am.” 

Two hours in, Jon stirred, pushing the hood off his head and blinking slowly. 

“Hey,” he mumbled. Your breath caught unwittingly in your throat. Jon’s voice was rough and his hair was mussed from where it had been smushed underneath his hoodie. You curled your fingers into your palms, resisting the urge to push back a curl that had dropped onto his forehead. Jon rubbed the backs of his hands against his eyes, dislodging his glasses. “Did I fall asleep?” 

“Morning,” you managed. Some part of you was surprised you managed to get out any words at all, much less in a tone that wouldn’t pass for a squeal. 

Damian took his sweatshirt back from Jon’s offering hand. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he said, attempting to stretch while crammed in a seat with no legroom. You just watched, chest squeezing pleasantly. Damian was watching similarly. What am I doing? You wondered to yourself. He’s not yours, neither of them are. 

“You needed the sleep,” Damian said beside you. Jon snorted out a laugh. 

“Thanks Dames,” he said dryly. 

“Always.” 

You wrenched your attention away from the boys, turning your phone over in between your hands. It was too late, you knew. You were already attached. But this was a plane, a vehicle to get you from place to place. There was no reason they would be any different, just a passing point in your life. Selfishly, you hoped they might be more. 

A tap on your shoulder from Damian brought you back into the conversation. 

“Huh?” Two sets of concerned eyes were watching you carefully. Your eyes met green then blue for only a moment. “What’s up? I zoned out for a moment, sorry. Tired.” 

Damian looked like he wanted to argue with you. You hoped he wouldn’t; you might have only met him the day before, but you had a feeling he’d figure it out anyway. 

“Do you know how far we are?” Jon asked instead. 

“Oh sure I can check that one sec.” You opened the airline map on your phone. “About an hour and a half away.” The little airplane icon on your phone screen placed the plane somewhere above the Chicago area. “See?” 

“Oh that’s cool!” Jon said to Damian, taking the device from you. “Kinda looks like the thing your dad has for my dad.” There was context you were missing, you assumed. Damian huffed a laugh. 

“It’s a similar technology.” 

“What do your dads do?” You asked them. 

“He’s a journalist,” Jon offered. 

“Businessman.” Damian’s lips quirked up. “Family business.” 

That did not clear it up for you whatsoever. You snapped your mouth shut on any follow-up questions at the jump of turbulence. Your shoulders stiffened instinctively for a moment before you relaxed back into your seat. This wasn’t your first batch of turbulence and it probably wouldn’t be your last. Damian didn’t seem shaken. Jon, though, looked terrified, one hand gripping Damian’s wrist and the other tapping furiously against his thigh. 

“Is this normal? On commercial planes?” 

“Sometimes,” Damian assured. “The pilot warned of turbulence earlier.” 

“They usually come over the loudspeaker when it happens, just to reassure people.” 

Your prediction came true with a crackle of the intercom. 

“Just an average bit of turbulence folks. All numbers are still in the green, so no need to worry. As a precaution, the seatbelt signs are going back on so please stay seated if possible.” 

The pilot’s voice seemed to reassure Jon. You, for one, were tired of hearing it.

[sea-owl]

I'm having Portia Addams au thoughts.

Here's the link to the orginal: link

For those who are unaware at one point, my gothic featheringtons and isekai Portia aus kinda mixed into this idea that Portia, an Addams family daughter, moved back to Spain with her young kids after the death of Lord Featherington. Over the years Portia and the Addams manage to surprise adopt the other spouses and some of the spouses siblings. Portia also manages to "corrupt" Mary into being her best friend after a trip to India. This au also had a dash of Edmund x Violet x Portia to my surprise that people requested it besides my crazy self.

ANYWAY I just had an idea set in this universe that in the 1814 season during the country house party that did welcome families to the day activites, to Aubrey Hall Violet sent an invitation to Featherington House with an unlimited number that she could bring (Violet never knew if Portia's family grew bigger and she knows Portia might just come back with an extended member or two) just in case, as she has always done. Violet knew realistically Portia was not leaving Spain, despite wishing she would.

Well surprise surprise Portia had actually come back from Spain with her family and best friend in tow to receive the invitation the day after the Bridgertons left to get Aubrey Hall ready. The servants who were to collect the response from the Featheringtons and record the numbers for how many were arriving were rather new and didn't know that history between the two families. It never directly reached the ears of those who did know.

"We'll probably have to sleep multiple to a room when we get there," Portia said as she looked around at the children. Four she birthed, four her wards, three who might as well be her wards since they never leave, her two nieces, and her best friend. She remembers Aubrey Hall having a lot of space but she wouldn't want her family to take up more room than needed. Perhaps if they can get four in a room, two to a bed, the children have slept in more cramped areas like the Addams family crypt. She knows there are rooms with two beds in them, then they would need four rooms? One of the rooms can have a single bed in it too if it makes things easier, her and Mary have no trouble sharing a bed.

"It can't be worse than our recent travels, and most of our bags are packed so it shouldn't take long for us to head off tomorrow," Mary said.

"It's just a shame we can't enjoy the nice dusting this house has gotten," Portia sighed. The Featherington London House looked like a right proper Addams home now. Just needs a few more touches.

"Well think of this," Mary said as she looped her arm through Portia's. "There will be more when we get back and all the curtians will be set up as well to darken the rooms."

Portia laughed, "Oh mi amiga the way you think is brilliant!"

The next day someone familiar caught the family's eye.

Gareth happened to be looking over his shoulder as they were loading up the carriages. "Grandmother!"

This gained the rest of family's attention as well.

"Well, well it as if the dead has risen again," Lady Danbury said as she walked over to the group. "I send my grandson off with Simon over here and now they both return with two old friends who were lost to time."

Portia laughed. "If only we were dead to rise again, it would be such fun would it not?"

"If only to give others a good scare," Mary agreed.

"Lady Featherington and Lady Sharma, it has been too long since I've seen you both," Lady Danbury greeted. Her eyes look over all of them dressed in black and jewel tones. "Still in all black I see."

Portia smiled. "It's just such a happy color, unlike yellow that is a true mourning color."

The three matriarchs continued their conversation when Lady Danbury's eye wandered to the brood of 13 behind sititng in the carriages. She couldn't help raise an eyebrow, how did these two women managed to collect all of them? Her own godson and grandson being among them as well.

Mary seemed to notice first. "Oh let us introduce you to the children."

"Mis hijos!" Portia called.

One by one the children lined up. Lady Danbury recognized last names of some and those she didn't recognize she did see their resemblance to their gentry family members. Did they kidnap these children? Well some she wouldn't blame if they were happier being kidnapped. She's heard rumors about some of these families.

When Lady Danbury found out they were also heading to Aubrey Hall she offered to have Mary and Portia ride with her. Then she swatted them on the bottom with her cane when they tried to suggest something else. They only raised an eyebrow unimpressed with the light swat but agreed to ride along.

The children climbed into their own carriages with Simon, Gareth, Michael and Phillip climbing into one. Kate, Prudence, Lucy, and Felicity into another. The last carriage had Philippa, Sophie, Penelope, Edwina, and Posy climbing in.

"Well the Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton finally have someone who can compete with their large brood," Lady Danbury joked. "The children will take Aubrey Hall by storm."

"I was actually surprised to receive the invitation," Portia confessed. "We didn't tell anyone in England we were coming, our leaving Spain was last minute."

Lady Danbury sat up straighter. "Truly?"

Both Portia and Mary nodded.

"We thought it best for the children's future prospects to take at least a season here. Spain is still recovering after the war."

Portia then muttered something in spanish that had Mary gasping.

"Like you're one to talk!" Mary exclaimed, lightly pushing Portia.

The two women continued to playfight while Lady Danbury smiled. A thought just hit her. She knows the looks viscount and viscountess used to send Portia when they thought no one was looking. And now they have no idea she's coming to their country house party. Oh Lady Danbury is about to have some fun.

[anthropologyruinseverything]

New fic series! WWE Mafia AU

Welcome to what is essentially my dark romance, junk food series. I want to practice writing in the genre so here we go! Plz see CW warnings. There are 3 fulls stories and a 1 shot planned, I will be writing stories and one-shots as part of this universe as time goes on. As of right now Jey, Damian, Roman and Tama are in the works but I’d like to expound so hit me with recs!

(They may take time to write)

Now on with it.

18+ only from here plz - minors dni

Sea & Moon

Jey Uso x IndigenousFMC

Summary: Nokomis “Kiki” Levy was a normal twenty year old college student whose biggest concerns were passing chemistry and what graduate programs would want to see on an application.

Joshua “Jey” Fatu is thirty-one and has recently been appointed heir apparent of his father’s branch of their families shadowy enterprise and needs to prove himself up to the task.

Their worlds collide when Kiki’s father, a detective with SFPD, gets too close to Jey’s family business. While they start as enemies there is an undeniable burn between them. Will a much larger threat be their end or give them a chance to thrive together?

🚨It’ll be a dark journey for the Levy girls, please heed content warnings that include mild n0n-con between main characters, dubious consent, violence, mentions of difficult topics such as substance abuse, mental health issues and more. There will be various k!nks such as prim@l play, masks, captiv!ty, 🔪 play, ch0king, and more. The boys are morally grey to black but love and obsess over their ladies.

There is an HEA for everyone! I probably won’t post more than the prologues and one shots here on Tumblr and leave the really dark stuff on AO3. I will post links though and just drop a comment if you’d like to be tagged in any further updates.

## Prologue

**Nokomis “Kiki” POV**

⭐️*character note, Kiki has vitiligo which affects her face over her right eye, her hands and other other areas.

It was just supposed to be another regular movie night at home with my sister and cousin, nothing unusual or life altering. The same sort of thing we did almost every Saturday night since we could remember. I didn’t think twice when my folks decided on a last minute date night while we three girls piled onto the couch for comedies and popcorn, waving them off as if I’d see them in a few hours.

I wished I’d hugged them tighter and longer. As if that would have somehow stopped what happened next.

Not long after my parents had left my dad’s retired K9 partner Atlas started going insane, running back and forth to the back door and barking. I assumed he was interested in a rabbit or some other critter like a possum in the backyard so I hushed him and sent him to his crate for acting so crazy. In the long run I’d probably saved his life but I had still wished for his protection with what came next.

We never heard the back door locks being picked or footsteps in the kitchen. Between the movie, our laughter and the occasional dog bark nothing else penetrated our space and like most college students on a Saturday night our minds weren’t on the dangers lurking in the shadows. We didn’t know anything was wrong until Kai went to the kitchen for drinks and her scream alerted Kiri and me to our unwelcome visitors.

I’d never felt so stupid and slow as I did when the large men in masks appeared in the doorway, one with a particularly vicious face mask, long black hair and icy gray eyes held a long knife to Kai’s throat, clutching her tightly to his front with his other arm. Every time I ever swore to myself and my parents I would fight back went out the window when I realized it might actually cost my cousin her life. Instead I reached for Kiri’s hand as we stood frozen to the spot. Her light brown eyes were blown wide in fear and her normally tan face had gone ashen.

Everyone was quiet except for Atlas’s enraged barking.

The shortest man was still at least six feet tall and he wore a black mask with red spiral designs that covered his lower face. Withdrawing a gun from a shoulder holster he indicated the elderly german shepherd. “Shut it the fuck up.”

Instinctively Kieran and I both moved to stand between him and Atlas, her fingers digging into my hand tighter than ever before while her other came up in a placating gesture as I spoke. “Please don’t hurt him, he’s old and scared.” She turned to me with frightened eyes and indicated I should comfort him with a jerk of her chin. Dropping I tried to soothe him and at least got him to quiet down to a whimper.

The next thing I became aware of nearly made me lose control of my bladder. A harsh, cold metal gun barrel was pressed to the back of my head as Kiri’s hand was wrenched from mine.

“You girls gonna behave?”

I swallowed past the thick lump in my throat and nodded, hating that every inch of me was paralyzed. What happened to being an officer’s daughter who could stand her ground? All I could think about was that knife pressed to Kai, that gun leveled at the back of my head or at Atlas. If I didn’t behave they could be hurt or I could be killed. I risked glancing up at Kieran who was so still and quiet, being held by the largest of the three. His purple and black mask was monstrous like the tattoos on his exposed arms.

“Stand up slowly. Where’re your parents?” Out of habit when someone stared at me intensely I let my hair fall forward over my face even as I did what he said. His dark brown eyes looked black in the dim light of the living and the comedy kept playing in the background offering a ridiculous soundtrack to such a grave moment. Everything felt surreal in the flashing lights.

“N-not home.” My voice shook even as I tried to sound calm. “Our dad, he’s a cop, he’ll be back soon.” As if supplying that information would make him think twice.

The tall one chuckled, responding in a deep voice that fit his intimidating stature. “We know mija. He’s why we’re here.”

Kai’s whimper brought my attention back to her and the man holding her. He was far too interested in running his knife down her chest. “Hey! Stop it!”

Kai was two years younger than us and as such we’d always been protective of her. I realized what I’d done when those cold gray eyes flashed to me.

The man with black eyes didn’t hesitate, stepping in uncomfortably close to put the barrel under my chin. “Behave.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Survival mode engaged apparently. I realized we were truly fucked when he tugged his mask down to reveal an equally black beard but handsome face. “Leave a note D. We’re taking them and their old man can turn himself in when *we’re* ready.”

The last thing I remembered for a while was Kai crying out and a sharp prick in my neck before everything went black.

———

**Joshua “Jey” POV **

Catching the purple haired girl as she fell I moved to set her on the couch with the other two so they could be tied up. We’d come looking for Detective Levy and we were leaving with his twin daughters and their cousin. Not the worst all things considered but still not my plan and I didn’t like it when things didn’t go according to plan.

“You said he’d be here tonight D.”

Damian tugged his mask off with a shrug, accepting the roll of duct tape Roman had retrieved from his bag. He passed me one as well and we went to work taping the girls wrists, ankles and mouths.

“I’ll talk to J.D.” Unlike our family Damian ran a crew of people he’d collected with no ties aside from shared interests. It made them difficult to trust and easy to be angry with as far as I was concerned. I owed Damian my life, not them.

“Do that. Let’s get the fuck outta here.

Roman, you can mess with her later.” He was preoccupied with the pretty little woman he’d pounced on in the kitchen, running his hands up her thighs over her pajama pants. Instead of answering he just rolled those alarming eyes of his and threw her over his shoulder. I took a second to really assess the young woman in front of me. Her name was Nokomis, one of the detectives two daughters. College student majoring in biology and member of the chess club. Of course. What I hadn’t known about was her vitiligo and I found myself more interested than I should have been in the beautiful patterns on her skin. A particular blaze over her right eye was especially striking.

Shaking the thoughts loose I followed his example and so did Damian with his new charge. Our SUV was parked in the alley behind the house and it had been easy enough to blow out the lone street light a few days prior. We put our two in the third row while Roman climbed in the center with his prize. I felt a twinge of pity for her. Capturing his interest so intently was not an enviable thing for anyone.

I waited until Damian was pulling the car onto the street to speak. “Obviously this changes things.”

“No mierda Jey.” Damian’s irritation was obvious. He knew I hated it when jobs went wrong and I knew it irritated him as well. Not to mention bad intelligence was always followed by a period of mistrust and I knew J.D. was already on thin ice as it was. “You were serious about holding them?”

I looked back at the middle row to find my cousin petting the woman in his lap even as she seemed to struggle against him. It would have been funny if I didn’t know him. “Yeah. Can have some fun but don’t kill ‘em.” I looked pointedly at Roman.

“I don’t kill women Jey. Just…like to play rough.”

“Yeah with professionals, not college kids.”

“You sure that’s a good idea? She saw your face cabrón.” Damian cut in. He had a good point but I wasn’t worried. If I hadn’t thought through this possibility I may have been more stressed about the decision.

“Nah, when they see what we do to their old man they’ll be too scared to say shit and we’ve paid off or killed anyone else who could do shit about it anyway.”

He flexed his broad shoulders and stole a glance in the rear view as the other girls were coming to and shifting around in the far back seat. I wasn’t blind or dumb and while he wasn’t as obvious as Roman I could see he was interested in the little one he’d held onto.

“Could let off some steam.”

I smirked. It wouldn’t be hard to seduce them, a few drinks and some promises and they’d be pliant like most other females I dealt with on the regular. I’d be lying if said I wasn’t intrigued by the girl who stared at me in the rear view, her light brown eyes looking golden in passing streetlights. I could see the defiance in them.

Good. Maybe having to wait a few more days to end the cop who got too close and couldn’t be bought wouldn’t be so bad. Not with some pretty company.

[talisidekick]

I need your help...

If you don't know me, hello, I'm Accalia, I go by Tali Sidekick online on Youtube, Instagram, and on the rarest of occasions Twitch. I'm a 29 year old transgender woman from Canada, who came out and began socially and medically transitioning in 2021. I stream largely on Youtube and on the rare occasion I make videos (it's been over a year since I last did that).

I could use your help affording my legal name change. I've been trying to afford it myself but I'm unable to for reasons I'll get into below. The link is in my blog description, but I'll post it here:

Recently, while walking home from work (I don't make enough to afford public transit or my own vehicle or a bicycle) I got attacked by a middle-aged man in a dimly lit residential neighbourhood. I got away, and thankfully I didn't give him enough time to do more than grab me by the arm. However, I had to file a police report, which gave me two options: use my legal name which at current is my deadname (ie. a name I no longer wish to use) which would be distressing to say the least, or submit it anonymously. I chose the latter which unfortunately does little besides let the public know that someone dangerous with a vague description is in their area. I wish I could have put my name on that report but using my legal name as it stands now is ... I can't.

To add to this, I was saving up, but unfortunately the student loans I owe decided to charge me during an appeal process (they weren't supposed to) and when the charge partially bounced they denied my appeal (which isn't supposed to happen under the contract agreement I signed) because of "outstanding payments". The appeal process also only looked at my gross income for one month, specifically the month I got paid 3 times in (it happens only once a year) and decided to combine all three payments into an equal 2 and evaluated my paycheck at around 25/hr when I only make 16/hr and has thus denied me reduced loans payment (I'm working on this but it's adding to my stress). So at current, the $300 I had extra got eaten by the National Student Loans Services Centre (NSLSC) again and from previous experience even though I should be reimbursed once this is cleared up, I won't be.

I would have also had more (remember that extra third paycheck?) but my health insurance stopped covering me because despite being signed up to a provincial pharmacy program they decided I wasn't, and forced me to buy my hormones and ADHD meds out of pocket. They only -just- reinstated coverage, but getting reimbursed will take over a month possibly 2.

As such, I have exactly $48 in savings and $7 in my basic checking account.

I want to get my name changed, I've been trying for over 2 years, and it's been impossible. Every time I have the money to spare, the NSLSC eats it and doesn't give it back, some medical thing comes up, or some unforseen cost rears its head and consumes my meager savings. The cost averages out to about $450 because it requires Finger Printing for a background check, Notary Fees, Processing Fees, and Reprinting Fees for my Birth Certificate, Drivers License, and Marriage License.

And if the $450 goal is exceeded, any excess getsput towards affording the $6000 surgery cost of getting SRS/GRS (Sex Reassignment Surgery/Gender Reassignment Surgery). I have until December next year before my government will no longer cover the cost of the surgery supposedly.

If I can get help here, I really want all my legal doccuments to read "Llorelei Accalia [Lastname]". I'm so tired of having to explain to people that I'm transgender because the name, face, and (somehow) voice don't match.

Currently at:

$50/$450

[torreshalstead]

On a crowded street in 1944 - Chapter 6

Summary - The four walls of Upton’s General Store were all Hailey knew although she longed to see what else life had to offer. When a handsome soldier walks through the door, she thinks he might just be the answer to the life she wants to have. But it was 1944 and the country was at war. Would fate smile on her or would her heart be another casualty of the war?

Chapters - 6/15

AO3 Link

August 1944

Falling into a new routine was easy. Hailey would have dinner with her parents, help her mother clear away the dishes, sit with them in the living room until it hit an appropriate hour and she could finally excuse herself. As soon as she closed her bedroom door behind her, her most favourite time of the day began.

She would pull out Jay’s book and carefully slide out his letters from between the worn pages. In turn, she would start with the words he had transcribed directly into the book, followed by his first letter to her and finishing with the most recent addition. This one was the one she treasured the most. This one was the one where he told her she had his heart.

She would clutch all the letters against her chest as she dropped to her knees at the side of her bed and prayed to God to keep him safe and bring him back to her. She prayed that the war would be over quickly, that both Jay and his brother Will would be alright and would return home whole and uninjured. He had already lost both his parents, he didn’t deserve to lose his brother as well.

Sliding the letters back into the book, she would press her lips against the cover and remember how it felt to have his against hers. It wasn’t the same but it was as close as she could have currently.

Tucked into bed, her mind would spin pictures of a life she now longed for. A life that before him she had thought would be out of reach. A life with Jay. She wanted everything they had discussed together, she wanted to be happy with him, to become his wife, to have children together. Her dreams were full of images of blonde haired children with bright green eyes, laughing and smiling in the park as she strolled behind them arm in arm with Jay. The days would be sunny and there would be no clouds of war on the horizon, nothing to split them apart.

When his letter had arrived, she had been desperate to send a response so she added a couple of lines to her letter;

Never apologise for how long the letter takes, when it arrives it is worth every day I waited for it. You are worth every day I wait for you.

She had chosen not to respond to his request for a picture of her. Her heart clenched at the thought that he might be disappointed with just a written response but she hoped he would forgive her and keep her letter over his heart in place of it.

She wanted to send him a photograph, she really did. But photographs were expensive and more importantly, the only person she knew that could take one was Mr Richards and his studio was only open from 10am-4pm on weekdays and she worked in the store during those hours. She had debated asking him if he could perhaps stay open late one night but she was sure if he was to acquiesce to her request he would charge her extra for the honour. And as much as she wished she could afford it, she couldn’t summon the money for it out of nowhere, and asking her father for a loan for such a thing was unthinkable.

She would love to have a picture of Jay that she could wear in a locket around her neck, her own momento to keep her safe so she understood his request. But she had yet to find a way to make it possible. She would though.

—————————————————————————-

September 1944

Her next letter from Jay didn’t arrive until the following month, she managed to grab it out of the stack of letters before her father saw it. It was very obviously a letter from the war, Jay’s unit listed clearly on the front and she didn’t want to have to explain that to her father. Not only did she want to keep her romance with the handsome soldier to herself, she was terrified her father would ban her from contacting him and even worse that he would take away her current letters. They were the only things she had of him, her lifeline and losing them would be a pain she could not bear.

As with the first letter, she had to wait until the end of the day to read it but she was marginally more patient this time. Instead of the envelope feeling like it was burning a hole in her dress, it felt like a gentle warming, like he was holding her hand from across the sea.

Finally alone in her room, she worked through her routine. It was a comfort and it felt like if she continued, it would continue to keep him safe. She knew in her logical mind that it was an illogical thought, but she held onto it anyway. Love wasn’t always logical.

When she had read their previous writings, she opened the newest envelope with shaky hands, her fingers careful to not rip the contents.

My dearest Hailey,

To hear from you put the biggest smile on my face, your words were beautiful and only served to make me miss you more.

I am glad our time together felt the same to you too, I would walk away if it did not, even if it broke me. But to know I also have your heart, I will keep it safe my love.

I could go for a cold soda myself but the possibility of that over here seems slim. But we will share one soon.

I must apologise if my request for a photograph seemed forward, and if it caused offence you must forgive me. I see you everyday in my mind, I do not need a physical reminder, your letters will keep me just as safe.

Yours forever,

Jay

Her eyes started to swim with tears, he had thought she was offended when he had asked for a photo when it was the exact opposite. She was flattered beyond belief. The idea that someone wanted to be reminded of her every day, that he thought her looks worthy enough to be forever frozen in a photograph that he would then treasure, it tugged at all of her heart strings.

She had never thought of herself as unattractive, she knew her blonde hair was lusted after by girls in her class, knew her blue eyes looked pretty in the summer sun, but she had never thought of herself as beautiful, more plain and homely than anything else. But Jay made her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

She would find a way to get him that picture.

——————————————————————————

It was just her luck, Mr Richards strolled into the store the following day whilst her father was out at another business meeting so she plucked up the courage to approach him.

‘Mr Richards?’ She asked, her voice a little shaky as she was aware she was asking a lot.

‘Ahh Miss Upton, what a beautiful day we are having,’ the middle aged man smiled at her warmly and doffed his cap.

‘A beautiful day indeed. I was wondering if I could ask you a favour? Of course if it’s too much then please forget I ever asked,’ Hailey babbled quickly, the words spilling out of her lips faster than she could control them.

‘Ask away,’ he smiled.

‘I know you normally only take bookings for photographs from 10 until 4 but I work those hours so I was wondering if you’d be able to stay open late one night so I could get one taken?’

‘And what would a young lady like yourself be wanting a portrait for?’ He asked kindly.

‘It’s for a friend who is overseas,’ she explained. Jay was more than a friend to her of course but to explain that to someone who was merely an acquaintance when her own mother didn’t know felt peculiar.

‘A friend or a sweetheart,’ his eyes twinkled and Hailey felt the colour rising in her cheeks. ‘I thought as much. If it keeps our boys safe then it’s on the house Miss Upton. Stop by tonight when you close up and we will get it taken.’

Hailey was overcome, ‘thank you Mr Richards, you don’t know how much it means.’

‘I think I do,’ he said with a soft smile. ‘I would give my right hand to have a photograph of my sweetheart, but unfortunately she was taken from us too soon.’ He admitted and Hailey felt her heart clench. She hadn’t known. She had known he wasn’t married but had assumed he was a bachelor by choice, not that his love had been cruelly taken from him.

‘I’m so sorry Mr Richards,’ she said but he shook his head.

‘It is the past, she still has my heart up there,’ he pointed up. ‘What is your fellas name?’

‘Jay,’ Hailey said with a small smile. She always smiled when she thought of Jay. ‘What was your sweetheart's name, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘Beatrice,’ he said, smiling softly at what Hailey assumed was a memory of her. ‘Well we will make Jay’s week when it arrives my dear,’ he smiled again before nodding to her and heading out. He hadn’t even bought anything. Maybe it was fate that brought him into their store that day, someone up there had known she needed to speak to him. Maybe it was Beatrice who had sent him to see her. She smiled at the thought and made a note to include her in her prayers tonight with a thank you.

The next question was what to wear. She wanted to look good for Jay but she also wanted to look like herself. She had looked exactly like this when she had first met him. With the store quiet for a couple of moments she scurried upstairs and glanced at the couple of dresses that were hanging in her closet. She tugged out the pale blue dress that she had been wearing when Jay had first kissed her. It was perfect. Hopefully it reminded him of the night that had changed both their lives - for the better.

She pulled it on quickly before rushing back downstairs but luckily her father had not returned in her absence. Thankful that she had braided her long hair that morning she undid the braids and let her blonde curls freely flow over her shoulders. She pinned a couple of the front pieces back so they were out of her face, using a silver plate sat behind the counter as a mirror. She smiled to herself, she usually had her hair tied back as it was easier to work when it was out of the way but she was pleased with how she looked. She hoped Jay would be just as pleased when her portrait finally reached him.

A slam of the back door pulled her out of her revere.

‘What are you all prissied up for?’ Her father asked, his voice slurring as he looked her up and down. He had been drinking, the hair on Hailey’s arms stood on end. Clearly his meeting hadn’t gone as well as he had hoped and he had drowned his sorrows at the nearest liquor serving establishment. It made Hailey’s hands clench underneath the counter.

‘Just trying out a new style my friend from church taught me,’ Hailey forced a smile and hoped her father wouldn’t question her further.

‘Whatever, just get this place closed up,’ he grunted before stomping upstairs. Hailey listened carefully to his footsteps but she let out a breath when she heard him collapse onto the bed in her parents room. If he was going to sleep off his overindulgence then she had nothing to worry about. He’d be out for hours, likely until the morning, and wouldn’t interrogate her on her whereabouts that evening.

She couldn’t exactly tell him she was getting a photograph taken to send to a soldier overseas who she was madly in love with having only spent one evening with him. Her father would laugh at her, belittle her and tell her not to be a stupid little girl. It was a conversation she was keen to avoid, that was until Jay returned home and they could face him together.

[domsideencourager]

This story disappeared. I hope its okay to repost.

University was really fucking expensive, Noah had quickly realised. Between paying for his halls, food and all the surprising little costs of living away from home, his student grant was rapidly dwindling, and he was starting to worry about making it last until reading week, nevermind the next payment after Christmas - he'd gotten a bar job, but even with that it was hard to make ends meet. Parents, teachers, older friends had all warned him not to spend all of his money going out, but chance would be a fine thing.

"Daddy told me that he's literally not going to give me any more money!" Noah's flatmate Cissy wailed at Becca and Will, two of his somewhat more financially fortunate new living mates. "He said that three hundred a week should be enough, but I told him that he just doesn't understand what it's like to budget!" Noah bit his tongue and focussed on buttering his toast while keeping an eye on his pan of baked beans.

Becca nodded sympathetically. "They just absolutely do not understand what it's like to be working class students like us," she told Cissy sagely.

"Does this mean you can't buy us coke tonight?" Will asked, the concern clear in his voice.

This only made Cissy cry harder. "I'm not thinking about fucking coke right now Will!" she cried. "I don't even know if I can afford brunch tomorrow!"

"I could probably try and get some ket?" Will suggested.

"You know I can't have ketamine Will!!" Cissy yelled. "I'm a fucking aquarius! Obviously I don't react well to ket!" She buried her face in her hands and wept. Noah poured his beans onto his toast and gathered his cutlery. He considered topping his meal with some cheese, but decided it was too much of a luxury right now.

"Besides," Becca said as Noah began to take his meager dinner to his room. "Ketamine reminds me too much of my horse Diana, so I'll be far too sad to do any."

The door closed as Cissy comforted Becca about the dear departed Diana. Noah let out a sigh. He wished he had a "daddy" who would "only" give him £300 a week. He laughed as he sat down at his desk and looked for a show to watch on his laptop. He'd remembered earlier that week when some of his mates were saying they'd have to look for sugar mummies and daddies to make it through the term. He'd joined in laughing at the time, but the prospect was starting to look less and less absurd as the term went on and his finances dwindled.

He paused, wondering. He knew sugar daddies existed of course, but he couldn't quite convince himself that there really were older men out there just waiting to give someone money.

After a while, his curiosity got the better of him and he pulled out his phone. How to get a sugar daddy he typed in. He was surprised how many websites and apps there were. Surely the idea wasn't really this popular? He clicked on a couple of links; they all seemed to cater for older men looking for young women. He tapped his search bar again and added gay to his search. The first result was an app called The Sugar Bowl, advertising itself as the UK's premier gay sugar dating app. He downloaded it. He had to entertain himself somehow, he supposed, while all his flatmates were out getting drunk and high - a luxury he just couldn't afford.

The app was asking him to make a profile. He quickly tapped in all his details, chose a username and clicked next, giving short, vague answers for any that needed more than basic information. Photos next; he scrolled through his phone looking for some good recent photos. He appraised himself as he scrolled - he was a bit of a catch, if he did say so himself. Just over six feet with naturally broad shoulders, with a handsome face and a strong, square jaw. The vivid ginger hair on his head was mirrored on his chest and trailing down his stomach, a shock of orange against his pale, freckled skin.

He finished his profile and was immediately shown a man who was at least eighty. A bubble of text at the bottom of his screen informed him he could "Ask for a taste" or "Carry on looking at the menu", and only the men he selected would be able to message him. Noah rolled his eyes and tapped the cross. The man's profile whisked itself away and was replaced with another.

Now this was more like it - mid-40s maybe, salt and pepper hair, bit of a gut but Noah didn't mind that necessarily. His fingers moved to tap the tick before he noticed the short blurb of text below the photos: Discrete! Married with children, but would love to add you to the family. Noah cringed and rejected him.

The next one wasn't too bad. Bald, a nice square face, pictures showing him dressed in sharp suits in what looked like various cities across the world, and, to Noah's surprise, a screenshot of what looked like a banking app, all of the details removed apart from the dizzyingly large balance. Noah tapped, accepting him. Nothing happened - presumably he'd have to wait for a match or for the man to be notified before he'd get a response.

He spent a couple of hours idly swiping through profiles. It was almost like a game, really. He was surprised to find how handsome he found some of the men; he'd never really considered himself attracted to older guys before but there was something about some of them. He particularly appreciated some of the dad bods on show - always something he'd liked before on guys his own age, and there were plenty on offer here.

He snapped out of his app-induced reverie as he heard his flat mates leave for the night, stampeding towards the door. He closed the app and decided to watch a movie for the night as he heard Cissy loudly proclaim to everyone "You know what? Fuck it. I'm buying coke. Daddy can fuck off. I have to be true to myself and I know that I am not a ketamine queen!" This was met with one of the poshest cheers Noah had ever heard.

The app left Noah's mind entirely as he watched his film and then fell asleep. He woke up to a notification.

SilverFoxDom: Hello handsome. You know, my hair used to be that exact same shade, before succumbing to the ravages of time.

He looked at the name and sighed. He must not have looked very close last night.

RedFox: Nice. Listen, I'm sorry, I must not have really read your name last night. I'm not really into the whole sub/dom thing.

He closed the app and checked the news, reading through a few stories. Within a few minutes, another notification popped up.

SilverFoxDom: Neither am I. My actual name's Dominic, or Dom. I didn't really consider the implications until I'd made the profile, and now I can't figure out how to change it.

Noah smiled a little. At least this guy seemed sweet, and hadn't immediately asked for nudes - an improvement on more conventional dating apps, in fact. He went back to the app to check his profile. The guy was okay-looking, Noah thought; probably mid-50s, with a head of receding white hair and a beard to match, and warm, crinkled eyes surrounded by laughter-lines on a rugged, square face. Noah could see faded freckles across his nose and cheeks, the only remaining evidence of the ginger hair in his youth that he'd mentioned. A bit of a dad-bod, with a thickness evident beneath the expensive looking suits he wore in each photo, but Noah had met up with bigger guys before.

RedFox: Sorry to hear that, not-a-dom Dom. I bet that's led to a few sticky situations.

SilverFoxDom: Oh no, no sticky business over here! I'm very content to offer what aid I can to fellow foxes in need without it going any further. I've got to say little fox, you're looking more underfed than most. A particularly cruel winter, perhaps?

RedFox: Yeah, I've always found it pretty difficult to put on weight, especially living on beans on toast at uni, haha.

SilverFoxDom: Something I can help with, perhaps? Well then, young fox, what brings you to this rather niche corner of the internet?

Noah decided to be honest. This guy seemed genuinely nice.

RedFox: Some mates were joking about needing a sugar daddy to get through the term. I thought it'd be a bit of a laugh, but I was sort of curious what it's all about.

SilverFoxDom: Well I heard it's only cats that need to be wary of curiosity; us foxes should be fine.

How about you let me take you out for a meal a little more elaborate beans on toast? At least then you'll have gotten something out of this whole experience.

RedFox: That's very kind. Honestly though, I really did just make an account out of curiosity. I don't think I'm into this whole sugar daddy/baby thing.

SilverFoxDom: And I am also being honest when I say there is no obligation or hint towards anything other than a good meal and some company for an hour or two. I can guarantee a finer meal than anything else you'll rustle up during your time at university.

Noah's stomach grumbled. It would be good to have a proper meal, and really, it was no more dangerous than meeting someone off grindr or tinder.

RedFox: Sounds great then, thank you. When were you thinking?

They arranged to meet that evening at half past six, a little early Noah thought, but he wasn't about to argue. He put on his nicest shirt and his cleanest jeans, and walked into the center of town to a restaurant he'd never heard of.

Noah walked up the stairs to the large entrance, with a small sign next to it with the name of the restaurant - Pastures Green - and was met by a thick-set man in a three-piece suit. "Hi," Noah said as he approached. "I'm meeting someone - Dominic?"

"Of course sir, welcome," the man said. "I've been told to ask you for your favourite animal."

Noah was taken aback, feeling like he was back in primary school and being asked about his favourite shape (hexagon) or dinosaur (triceratops). "My favourite animal? What the- Oh! Right, no, I see. A fox. My favourite animal's a fox."

The man smiled and his eyes flicked to Noah's hair for a moment. "It suits you. This way then." He turned on his heel and walked through a thick wooden door. Noah followed into a large, expensive looking room. The room seemed underfilled, with only ten or so tables, and plenty of space between them all. Noah was led between them all, to a table at the back, wth Dominic sat in one seat.

Dominic stood up as Noah approached. In person, he had a warm energy that seemed to enhance all his features, and made him look quite handsome, if you could get over the age thing. He looked a couple of inches shorter than Noah, maybe at about 6 foot, and a few pounds lighter than in his photos,  though still with a broad frame and a slight gut rounding out his waistcoat. Noah didn't know much about suits, but he could tell the one Dominic wore was expensive - light grey with barely-there pinstripes, and seemingly tailored to perfectly highlight or hide different parts of his body.

Dominic moved towards Noah and stuck his hand out for Noah to shake. "Gosh, but you really are handsome aren't you, little fox?" he said with a twinkle in his eye. He gestured for Noah to sit. "Now, this is very foolish of me, but I don't actually know your name."

"Noah," Noah answered as he took his seat.

"Noah!" Dominic almost bellowed. "A good strong name." He sat down opposite and handed a menu to Noah. "But you didn't come to introduce yourself to old men Noah. I believe you were promised a slap-up meal."

Noah opened the menu and noted that there weren't any prices. A note at the top assured customers that all the food was grown and produced locally. "A, uhh, a steak maybe," he said, deciding it wasn't too far removed from his usual safety option of burger and chips.

"Good choice," Dominic said with a smile. "But we'll get to that in good time. What about something to start?" he asked. "Or I could choose a few things I think you should taste?"

Noah put the menu down and gave a small smile. "Sounds great."

"Excellent!" Dominic said, as a waiter seemed to appear out of thin air. "Now Michael," he said to the waiter. "We'll start with some drinks,-" he turned to Noah. "A beer?" Noah nodded. "Two beers, I'll try something new. Something Belgian maybe? Now my friend here," he gestured towards Noah, "has never had the pleasure, so I really think he should sample as much of your fare as is reasonable, don't you? We'll start with a few small-plates - those lamb ribs you did last time, definitely, that pork belly with the fennel, do you remember? Yes, yes, those. Some of those crispy twelve-hour potatoes, that wonderful asparagus you do. I think I remember some artichoke concoction a few weeks ago? Perfect. And what fish do you have today? Yes, a small serving of that." His eyes flicked back to Noah and seemed to appraise him for a moment. "Perhaps that'll be it for starters this time Michael. And then my young friend here wanted the twenty-ounce rib-eye, and I'll have, hmmm…" For the first time he actually opened the menu himself and looked, although only for a second or two. "A salad, I think. Whatever chef thinks will work." He patted his slight belly and looked over at Noah briefly. "Doctor's orders," he said with a wink. "I'm afraid I can't overindulge like I once could."

Noah swallowed hard - it definitely sounded like he'd be overindulging, even if Dominic wasn't.

"The steak, sir?" the waiter - Michael - asked Noah.

"Oh, uh, yeah. That's great," Noah replied.

Michael smiled thinly. "How would you like the steak cooked?" he elaborated.

"Oh! Right, yeah, well." Noah stammered for a moment. He'd never had a proper, high-quality steak before, what did he know about how.it should be cooked. "Medium-rare?" He said it as a question as much as an answer.

"Excellent," Michael said. "Your drinks will be out presently." He turned on his heel and walked away.

Dominic turned to Noah and beamed. "So, little fox, why don't you tell me about yourself," he said. "You mentioned you were at university?"

Noah nodded. "First year, studying engineering," he replied, as Michael reappeared with two glasses.

"Thank you Michael," Dominic said. "First year, eh? Very exciting, first time away from home, discovering independence for the first time. Exhilarating really." He took a small sip of his beer and closed his eyes. "Mhm, perfect. Do take a taste." Noah did as instructed. The beer was odd - it was almost thick, and tasted strongly like wheat, with just a hint of sweetness. He smiled and nodded, wordlessly answering Dominic's inquisitive look. "I'm glad you like it," Dominic continued. "And engineering? Very impressive. I was never one for science and maths and all that myself. It was PPE at Oxford for me." Noah just smiled and took another swig of beer - the taste was starting to grow on him. "Not much of a talker, eh?" Dominic prompted.

Noah swallowed yet another swig of beer. "Sorry, no, it's not that I - it's just -" He decided it was best to play coy a little, play up to the guy offering a slap up dinner and who knows what else. "Just nervous, I guess."

"Oh fox, no need to be nervous," Dominic said with a growing smile. "In fact, I remember when I was your age and met up with a man, who, ah, shall we say, had a little more life-experience than me…"

Noah realised that what Dominic really wanted was someone to talk at, rather than any real expectation for Noah to contribute outside of an occasional reply. He was fine with that, happy to sit and drink his beer and give a nod or encouraging "hmm" when prompted. By the time the starters arrived, his beer was nearly empty and he was already beginning to feel the effects, having not been able to afford to drink for a while, and having not eaten much that day.

Noah's eyes went wide as the starters got put down. When Dominic had ordered, he'd expected morsel-sized portions, and while the servings weren't enormous, the six dishes added up to a lot more than Noah would usually eat in any given meal, and this was just the starter!

Dominic must have seen Noah's reaction. "Don't worry too much about finishing it all, little fox. I might take a sliver to taste, and I suppose the kitchen can dispose of any leftovers," he said.

"No, no, I can, I mean, it's fine," Noah said. "I can finish it, it's not too much." Not only could Noah not stand to waste food, particularly nowadays when he was living within such meager means, but he got the sense that Dominic was testing him somehow, seeing how willing he was to play along.

"Another beer sir?" the waiter asked, gesturing towards Noah's glass.

"Oh, uh, yeah, cheers, umm, Michael," Noah replied, picking up his fork to start.

"Certainly," Michael replied simply and walked away.

As Dominic looked on eagerly, Noah took his first bite, starting with the lamb ribs. As the meat reached his tongue he actually moaned - he couldn't stop himself. It was almost certainly the best food he'd ever had, and it made him realise suddenly just how hungry he was.

"Good?" Dominic asked simply, his eyebrows raising in a smug expression.

Noah could only give a short "hmm", as the second mouthful of lamb was already in his mouth. It was perfectly cooked - tender and juicy and seemed to be roasted with rosemary and something Noah couldn't identify. He cut off some pork belly, even as he was still chewing, and brought it up to his mouth the second he swallowed his lamb. It was just as good, and Noah closed his eyes as he chewed, trying his best to slow down to savour the taste.

Dominic let out a small chuckle. "Very good," he said. "I do hate to see a young man without a healthy appetite. Yes, very nice indeed." He paused for a moment, watching as Noah chased a mouthful of potato with some beer. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the thing people don't understand about John Major you see…"

Noah did his best to pay attention, but Dominic’s tales of Tories past weren't exactly Noah's bag, and they had to vie for his attention with the exquisite flavours in front of him. He built up a rhythm, alternating dishes with each bite, dipping the potatoes in all of the various sauces and juices from the other plates. He did his best to eat slowly but he just couldn't help himself. He was almost surprised when he looked down to see all of the plates were empty.

“... Which is why, of course, Thatcher's right-to-buy scheme was so beneficial,” Dominic finished. His smile grew as he saw Noah lean back in his seat, his breathing slow. “Oh, well done. Yes, very good indeed. You know, a lesser man would have given up on that, but not you, no.” Noah rubbed his stomach in wide slow circles. “Now, time for mains perhaps?”

Noah belched, the sound erupting out of him without warning. “Oh god,” he said. “I'm sorry I-”

“No apology needed! None at all, no, no, it's the sign of a good meal well-enjoyed,” Dominic said as his smile grew.  “You know, when I was part of the trade delegation to China, I was told that burping was a sign of respect! Now, the steak?”

Noah nodded blearily. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I'll give it a go.” He downed the rest of his beer, hoping the liquid might help soothe his stomach.

“That's all that any of us can do, isn't it?” Dominic proclaimed wisely. He waved down the waiter. “We’re ready now. And my guest here will have another beer.”

The steak arrived all too soon, looking even bigger than it had sounded earlier. Noah steeled himself, knowing that this was the best meal he'd had in a long time, and might have for a while yet. Dominic spoke constantly, picking at his own salad while 

After Noah had finished the selection of desserts Dominic had ordered, he was drunk, stuffed and tired. Dominic helped him to his feet and guided him to a waiting car, which took Noah directly to his uni halls. Noah unbuckled his too tight trousers and collapsed straight into bed.

He awoke the next morning to Cissy knocking on his door and passing over a large hamper that had been left for him. He looked inside to find a selection of expensive cheese, crackers, desserts and several ales. Looking closer he found a note.

Little Fox,

I so enjoyed our evening last night. I've included some small treats that I think you might enjoy until the next time we meet.

Your Silver Fox

-

This went on for a while. Two or three times a week, Dominic would invite Noah to some restaurant he'd never be able to afford to go to by himself, order an inordinate amount of food, plus a salad for himself, then watch as Noah stuffed himself silly. The next morning, a hamper would get delivered to Noah's flat, each time with something different in it - expensive cheeses, cured meats, selections from Dominic's current favourite bakery or deli, each delivery coming with several bottles of stout or ale that Dominic thought would pair with the food - Noah's room rapidly filled with more wicker baskets than he could handle. One time, Noah had off-handedly mentioned how much he liked ice-cream, and the next morning a delivery man handed over a miniature freezer for his room, stocked full of Ben and Jerry's. Each time, he considered sharing with his flat mates, but each time he'd sample one of the exquisite treats and immediately change his mind. Dominic, for his part, never suggested anything more - he really did seem to just genuinely want to help out a struggling uni student. Noah knew he'd have some ulterior motive, but as sexual deviances went, this one felt fairly benign and Noah wasn't about to turn down a few free meals a week.

As the end of the semester rolled around, Noah pulled a Christmas jumper out of one of the hampers that he'd repurposed as a clothes basket, and noted with a wince a developing tightness as he put it on. The jumper still fit, thankfully, but he worried about Dominic losing interest - Noah was quickly losing his thin figure that first attracted the older man.

Noah looked in the mirror and assessed himself. He wasn't fat, per se, not even chubby really. A bit more solid looking, that's all. He looked better, if anything; not quite so rail thin, or like a strong wind would blow him over.

Noah sighed. Tonight was the first time Dominic had invited him around to his own house, and he was a little nervous. Noah felt he knew Dominic well enough by now to trust that nothing untoward would happen, but it felt like a big step up in their strange friendship.

Noah smoothed down his jumper, laying his hands flat against his midsection. He was being silly - Dominic probably wouldn't even be able to notice anything.

"I've noticed you've been putting on some weight," Dominic said that evening, taking a sip of wine and smiling across the table.

Noah took a moment to swallow the mashed potatoes he'd just put in his mouth - perfectly creamy, and with a hint of rosemary and garlic - and looked down at himself. As stuffed as he was, his shirt had begun to get noticeably tighter. "I uh…," he started, trying to form words. "I suppose I've put on a little weight, yeah. I was pretty skinny before though - too skinny, some people think." He'd started talking faster, trying to convince Dominic it wasn't so bad. He hit upon the idea to appeal to Dominic's ego. "And uh, it's all this great food - I'm so grateful, you've been so generous."

Dominic's smile widened a touch and he laughed softly. "You've no need to worry, my little fox. Merely a comment." He drank some more wine and seemed to look Noah up and down. "It looks good on you, you know. You really were too thin when I met you - quite ghastly really, like a wraith. No, you look much healthier now." He set his wine glass down and leant back in his chair, one eyebrow raised. Noah got the distinct impression that he was trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. "I don't suppose you know how, ah, much weight exactly you've put on?"

Noah shrugged. "Not too much, my clothes all still fit, just about. And I've not got a scale at my flat."

Dominic stood up suddenly. "Well then we'll have to find out, won't we?"

"Will we?" Noah asked around a mouthful of turkey and gravy.

"Aren't you curious?" Dominic asked, moving around the table to usher Noah out of his seat. "We're having this little tete-a-tete about these rather charming, wonderful little changes to your body, and you don't want to know?" For the first time since Noah had met him, Dominic seemed to have a strange nervous energy about him, as if he'd rehearsed this moment. Dominic gave a short laugh. "And you the engineer! I thought your head would be full of numbers and precise measurements."

Noah decided to play along - whatever was happening, it wasn't worth losing out on his meal ticket. He pulled himself heavily out of his chair, his full stomach making him sluggish. Dominic left the room and Noah followed.

After climbing several flights of stairs and walking down a couple of corridors, Dominic stopped outside a door. "Sorry for the hike," he said with a smile. "This is the only bathroom with scales in." Noah wondered if Dominic had put the scales in there (or more likely had someone put them in there for him), so that he could show off the house to Noah - he remembered some quiet comment Dominic had made about this being "just the city house".

Dominic opened the door and ushered Noah in, flourishing an arm towards a set of scales. "Do you, ah, know what you weighed when you first arrived at university?" he asked.

Noah shrugged. "Probably about twelve stone, I think," he answered. That sounded about right, anyway.

Dominic tutted. "See? Far too thin. Shall we, ah, call that 170 pounds then, do you think?"

"Sure," Noah said. "Call it what you like I suppose."

"Call it what you- oh yes, very dry, very dry indeed little fox," Dominic chuckled. "Yes, well, ah, would you, that is to say, if you'd care to, ah…"

Noah was surprised to see Dominic so ill-at-ease. He always seemed so unflappable, and now he was a stammering mess about asking Noah to step on some scales. Noah did the honours, and looked down at the numbers on the scale. They rapidly climbed for a moment before stopping at 193.

"Oh my," Dominic said. "Well I suppose if we take off your- that is, if we account for your clothes, and what you've eaten tonight of course." He reached out and touched Noah's slightly distended stomach through his jumper. Noah felt a jolt - it was the first time Dominic had touched him at all, aside from shaking hands, and it felt like there'd just been some significant change in their relationship from that brief touch. "Shall we say one-ninety?"

"If you like, sure," Noah said, stepping back off the scale. He was starting to doubt whether these free meals were really worth it.

Dominic took out his phone and started tapping it. "Twenty pounds in, what, two months?" he muttered, seemingly to himself more than to Noah. "Very impressive, very impressive indeed."

Noah's own phone buzzed as Dominic put his away. Noah looked confused and reached into his pocket to pull it out. His eyes widened. A notification from his bank informed him that £2000 had just been added to his account by D. Berkeley. Noah looked up at Dominic, dumbfounded. "What?" Noah asked. "Why?" 

Dominic smiled coolly, all of his nervous energy suddenly dissipated. "One hundred pounds for each pound you've put on," he said calmly. He seemed back to his usual self, like he'd just taken back control of the conversation. "Something of a mea culpa, if you'd like. After all, this," he once again reached out a poked Noah's slightly softer middle, "is rather my fault."

"Well, I mean, you don't need to-" Noah began.

"And I do actually rather like it, if I'm being honest, little fox," Dominic interrupted. "Which is to say, I rather think that young men such as yourself do look rather more handsome with some weight about their person."

"Right," Noah said. "Okay then, well, thank you, I guess. I'll, umm, put it towards a gym membership."

"Oh, well if you'd like to lose it, I do of course understand,” Dominic said. “I could even pay for a private trainer if you’d like? As it is my fault.” He paused for a moment and seemed to be analysing Noah's body, looking it up and down. Noah felt like some sort of prey animal. “But then again, I really do think it suits you, you know. I could even, if you were amenable, continue these little apologies? Same rate of course, one thousand sterling for every ten pounds - best exchange rate you’ll get while the current government is in power.” He laughed at his own joke before looking expectantly at Noah waiting for his answer.

Noah stood still for a while, the only sound in the room that of the other shoe finally dropping. He'd known, of course, that there was no such thing as a free lunch, but he'd rather hoped his payment would have been keeping an agreeable older man company during those lunches. Clearly, Dominic was taking payment by pound of flesh.

Was the money worth it? Noah was in the prime of his life - he should be taking advantage of his young, fit body, not wasting it for a few measly quid. But then, a thousand pounds wasn't something to scoff at, and he could make a fair amount more, not to mention all the food he didn't have to worry about buying. Maybe he should just get back on the app and find some other old rich guy who just wanted something simpler, like a blow job or feet pics. But then, did Noah really care? He'd been attracted to plenty of other big guys, he'd just not ever thought of himself that way. He wasn't even really a big guy himself yet, he could easily ring this guy for another few grand and bounce before it was really noticeable, and then he could lose any excess weight easily enough.

Dominic cleared his throat, snapping Noah out of his rambling train of thought. “I'll, uhh, think about it,” Noah said. “Over Christmas.”

“Of course!” Dominic boomed, clapping a hand around Noah's shoulders and guiding him back out into the corridor. “You think about it while you're back home, and message me with your thoughts on my offer. For now though, I hope you have some space for dessert and the cheese board.”

A few hours later Noah swayed towards the front door, Dominic's hand on his back guiding him. The sheer amount of food and drink Noah had consumed was making him bleary-eyed, and he'd had to undo his belt sometime during the cheese course.

“Noah, one final thing,” Dominic said, as Noah stumbled his way outside towards the waiting car. He held out an envelope towards Noah. “It's a card.”

“I forgot to get you a Christmas card,” Noah said around burps.

Dominic laughed. “No, no, a credit card,” he explained. He pushed it into Noah's hand. “I’ll pay it off each month, of course, but it is yours.” Noah burped in response, which Dominic seemed to take as understanding. “I'd appreciate it if you only used it for food and drink - I don't mind how much you spend, you understand, but I would appreciate it nonetheless. Respect, more than anything, you see.”

Noah looked at the envelope for a while before looking up at Dominic and smiling. “Merry Christmas,” he mumbled before he belched and collapsed through the open car door.

-

It was the card that tipped it, for Noah. He decided he could live without the free extravagant dinners, even the offered grand for each ten pounds didn't seem that worth it in the cold light of day, but that credit card seemed to fix all of his money worries overnight. Trips to the supermarket weren't spent agonising over how much he had left or whether he could afford the tin of tomatoes that cost 15p more, he could treat himself, go out with mates on nights out. He still couldn't get over the look on his mum's face when he offered to pay for everything for Christmas dinner, or when she opened the present he'd bought her with some of the two grand Dominic had given him. So he was probably going to put on a bit of weight, who cared? He got back in contact with Dominic once he was back in halls, and their dinners recommenced, Noah's personal discomfort with the situation ebbing away all the time, even while the physical discomfort of his clothes mounted.

"Why aren't you eating more?" Dominic asked.

Noah swallowed his mouthful on noodles and looked down at the plates in front of him. He'd almost finished his bowl of donburi, and there was a small stack of small plates next to it which until recently had held a selection of dumplings and sushi.

“Well, uh, I thought maybe we'd have dessert, I guess,” he said, placing a hand gingerly on his bloated belly. “Or, I mean, if you wanted me to order some more sides?” He'd gotten used to pushing himself past his limits recently, focussing on the money he knew Dominic would be happy to part with, but that didn't make it any easier.

“Not tonight,” Dominic said, smiling. “No, you've rather impressed me tonight. The card I gave you, I mean. I'd expected a young man like you, away from home and enjoying all the pleasures of university life had to offer to be living off of take-aways and beers.”

Noah furrowed his brow. “I mean, I've been using it, you know, for shops and stuff,” he explained. “I didn't want to take the piss I guess.”

“You've no need to worry my dear little fox!” Dominic said. “It would take quite a lot of eating indeed to make me regret my decision. No, no, you've no need to be concerned about your impact on my finances. You should be enjoying yourself - dinners out, big lunches, deliveroos.” He said this last word as if it was an unfamiliar foreign term he was impressed with himself for learning while on holiday.

“Right, yeah, I'll keep that in mind I guess,” Noah said, before bringing the bowl up to his mouth to drain the last of the broth. “Thanks again,” he said. He placed both hands on his stomach and began to massage it, as much to soothe it as much as to put in a bit of a show for Dominic.

Dominic licked his lips. “You know, I had rather noticed that your, ah, wardrobe perhaps needed an update,” he said. “Perhaps it wouldn't go amiss if you were to use the card for clothes as well, when needed. I'd only ask that you let me know ahead of time, when you, ah, well, when you outgrow your clothes, I suppose.”

Noah nodded and ran a hand along the hem of his t-shirt to feel the strip of skin that had started showing beneath it in the last week or so. “Thanks, that’ll be helpful. These jeans are killing me.” He made a show of unbuttoning them and sighing with relief. “Sorry, hope you don't mind.” Dominic shook his head while making some posh clucking noises.

“Why don't you weigh yourself tonight?” Dominic asked. “With that scale I sent. You could send me a picture and I could send some money, if needed.”

“Sounds great,” Noah said, leaning back. “Don't suppose you could get the waiter's attention could you? See if they could bring over the dessert menu?”

That night, Noah sent Dominic a picture of the scale reading 202, and smiled as a notification appeared in his banking app less than a minute later.

-

Fancy going interrailing this summer? Just me and you? Mum’s given me some money for “self betterment and actualisation”, thought I'd go get pissed in Prague.

Noah's heart sank as he read the message. Just last week he'd spent most of the money he'd saved up from Dominic on a used car. He loved it, but now wished he'd held off a little longer. Him and his mate Stuart from school had talked about going interrailing for years; Noah had always thought of it as little more than a pipe dream, but suddenly it felt like it was all too attainable, if only Stu had text a week earlier.

Noah was about to text back, telling Stu he was skint, when he paused. No reason he couldn't save up a bit more money - he'd have until the summer to put on some more weight, and get as much money as he could from Dominic. Okay, so 220 pounds was bigger than he ever imagined getting, and having a genuine belly bloating out the front of large t-shirts, even when he'd not eaten, was something of a surprise, but he was hardly that big yet, he could afford to put on another twenty pounds before it was that bad, couldn't he? Besides, Stu was always the “fat friend” at school; he'd hardly judge Noah, and might even get a kick out of seeing him the same size as him.

I'd have to sort a bit of money, but count me in! August will be better than July maybe - gives me a bit of time to bank some extra pounds.

Noah chuckled at his own small joke as he grabbed the iPad Dominic had sent him a few weeks before, ready for some research. He started off simple, typing How much does it cost to go interrailing into Google and searching through some sites. He started to worry a little about how much it might cost and increased his imagine future body by another ten pounds or so. Would 30 pounds put him bigger than Stu? It was a strange prospect, but he found himself getting hard. As much as they'd all taken the piss out of Stu, he'd always commanded a bit of respect because of his size - he was the big one, the one who always got mistaken for being a bit older, the one who could eat the most and would probably win in most fights. The idea that Noah could usurp Stu in that way excited him.

How to gain weight fast he typed into the search bar. If he wanted to enjoy himself, he'd need to earn as much money as he could before summer.

A couple of mornings later, Noah pulled a carton out of one of the crates he’d ordered. He cracked it open and took a sip. This Boost stuff wasn't too bad, he thought. It was sweet and creamy, but not as thick as he thought, and he was surprised by how small it was considering the number of calories in it. He downed the rest of it in a few large gulps.

He’d read that some people had gotten incredible results from just one or two a day, so he thought one after every meal would do the trick nicely. Then, he'd finish the day with a pint or two of ice cream from the freezer that Dominic made sure to keep stocked. All of that, on top of his newly formed habit of getting every meal delivered - McDonald’s breakfast in the morning, a burger or burrito for lunch, and then a different take away each night for dinner - would surely help him make the money he needed for Europe.

While he was researching all of this, he'd been surprised to discover the communities of men who seemed to get off on this kind of stuff. He’d thought Dominic was some kind of one-off, the result of whatever crazy repression results from being gay and posh, but it seemed like these gainer guys were fairly common. He took some perverse pleasure in realising he was already bigger than some of the men who'd been trying to put on weight. He did his best to ignore men around 250 pounds, knowing he'd be that size soon enough, if everything went to plan - surely he'd not look that big? Obviously these guys would try and make themselves look as big as possible in their photos. No, he'd be fine, he told himself, just a little more weight would be barely noticeable.

-

“Do you think we could stop off somewhere and get something to eat?” Noah asked, his stomach rumbling. It was the first time Dominic had taken Noah for a weekend away, and he was regretting not remembering to bring some cartons of Boost.

“Well, we have dinner reservations in a couple of hours. Did the restaurant not look to your liking?” Dominic asked.

“No, it's fine, I'm not saying instead of dinner, I just mean, I haven't eaten since lunch, I'm not used to starving myself like this,” Noah replied. He was starting to get a little grouchy.

“Starving your- ah, yes well, perhaps we could find somewhere nearby, a cafe or bistro perhaps.” Dominic began to look around the row of shops along the beachfront.

“It's fine,” Noah said, crossing the road already. “I'll just grab something and eat while we walk. There's a place there look, I'll just grab a couple of burritos.”

Noah ate his first burrito in silence, only occasionally pausing to nod or give an approving grunt to one of Dominic's long stories. It was only when he started pulling the foil off the second burrito that Dominic asked for more of Noah's attention.

“You know, I do rather like this beard you've grown, little fox,” he started. “But I do wonder if it’s purpose might be to hide a certain developing feature? A certain roundness of the jawline perhaps.”

Noah felt his cheeks flush red. He had indeed grown the beard to distract from the double chin that had developed recently. The last twenty pounds seemed to take him from “slightly chubby” to “fat” in a way he wasn't expecting. With each step his round gut shook inside his XL shirt, which hugged a pair of budding moobs. He even realised that weekend with some shock that he was quite a bit bigger than Dominic now, so while he knew that the beard wasn't doing much to hide his weight gain, he'd hoped it wouldn't be too obvious why he'd grown it.

“Umm, yeah, I mean, some other guys in halls have grown a beard too, you know, and I thought I'd give it a go too, but, well, yeah, I guess it's to kind of cover the chin as well,” he admitted.

Dominic clapped a hand on Noah's shoulder. “While I really do think it's handsome, I always think it's such a shame when handsome growing men such as yourself try to hide the fullness of their face,” he said. “You should be proud of it! Have you not worked hard for your changing face? Earned it? Perhaps you'll shave it for me tonight? Show me what's underneath?”

“Oh, yeah, sure, I guess I can, I mean, it's just, I didn't pack a razor or anything,” Noah said, hoping Dominic would drop the matter.

“That's no concern! We can buy one for you, no matter at all. Look, there's a pharmacy there, I'll go in while you finish your little snack,” Dominic instructed.

Noah sighed and took a big bite of his burrito as he leant against the window of the pharmacy. He patted his gut and felt it jiggle. Just a little more weight and he'd have enough to go to Europe with Stu, and then he could block Dominic's number and lose all this weight.

That night, Noah's beardless face showed off just how round his cheeks were getting as he stuffed food into them. At Dominic's suggestion, Noah left himself with a moustache, which he was finding quite sexy. Dominic had ordered the entire starter list for Noah, followed by a roast dinner and a burger for mains, and a selection of desserts, while he ate a small serving of monkfish. Noah wiped his moustache with his napkin and leant back, resting a hand on his gut. “I don't suppose anywhere will be open, do you think?” he asked Dominic. “I usually like to have some ice cream before bed.”

-

Dominic clinked his wine glass with Noah’s. “Here's to a grand tour around Europe, and to two-hundred and seventy pounds,” he said.

Noah smiled and continued eating his fifth dessert of the night, thinking idly that he shouldn't have let the waiter take away the dessert menu just yet. While he'd overshot his target weight a little, the five thousand pounds he'd accrued would make sure that he wouldn't have to worry about scrimping and saving while interrailing, and he'd hopefully have some money left over afterwards for a gym membership, hell, maybe even a personal trainer. If nothing else, Noah thought ruefully as he adjusted his belt, he'd need to buy yet another new wardrobe, if he gained anymore weight.

“I've been thinking,” Dominic said. “I know that gallivanting about like this can be rather tough on the old purse strings, especially when one is young and wants to experience as much as possible of all these wonderful places you'll be going.”

Noah nodded, his cheeks full of tiramisu. “Yeah, you know, you've been a massive help with money and stuff, I definitely think I'll have a great time,” he said, truthfully. While he still found their arrangement a little creepy, Dominic seemed like a genuinely sweet guy, Tory proclivities and fetish for fattening up men aside, and Noah knew he'd have had a much worse year without him.

“Of course, of course, no need to thank me, anyone else would have done the same, faced with a young person in need such as yourself” Dominic said. Noah's eyebrows flew up; this situation fell very firmly under the category of things most people would not do, but he knew better than to protest. “Well, I was rather thinking, as this is such a marvelous opportunity for experiencing new places, meeting new people, learning languages, and of course, trying new food,” he waggled his eyebrows at this last point. “Well, I thought, as your patron, as it were, it would be remiss to not fund the trip.”

“Sorry, I'm not sure I follow,” Noah said, as he started on a rich sticky toffee pudding. “You are funding it - I wouldn't be able to go without you.”

“But I want you to keep that money! No, I want to pay for your trip,” Dominic said. “All of it. You and your friend. You can put everything on the card I gave you, the food and drink of course, as per usual, but the hotels, the trains, the flights, all of it. Anything you've paid for already, send it over to my office, I'll have my man expense it for you.”

Noah's gawped. Here he was, approaching twenty stone, one hundred pounds heavier than when he’d first arrived at uni, and Dominic was telling him all that money he'd saved was for nothing?

“Well, that's very generous Dom,” Noah said slowly, ruefully spooning some custard into his mouth.

“Think nothing of it, little fox! You know, when we first met, I must admit, I had rather hoped you might put on a little weight,” he understated. “But I really have been so impressed with how you've taken to it! Yes, I'm more than happy to pay for a man such as yourself who’s so readily taken up my little challenge.”

There it was, of course. The other side of the coin. Noah the twelve stone twink would never have been offered an all expenses trip around Europe. A catch-22: Noah had only saved enough to afford to go interrailing because he'd gotten so fat, and because he'd gotten so fat, he needn't have saved any money at all.

-

“Fucking hell!” Stu said as Noah walked up to him in St Pancras station. Dominic had arranged for a car to take him right up to the front, so Noah wasn’t nearly as sweaty as he would have been if he'd had to drag his backpack through the tube. “Louis said you'd gotten fat when he saw you at Easter but he didn't say you had tits! And what's with the porn-stache?”

“Nice to see you too,” Noah said. “Why weren't you back for Easter, anyway?”

“Fuck off, don't try and change the fucking subject,” Stu insisted. “You’re bigger than me!”

Noah had to admit that. He was surprised how small Stu looked - he’d always been one of the biggest guys in the year at school, but now he just looked a bit husky and had a beer belly. “Yeah, but you've lost weight, haven't you?” Noah pointed out.

“I've put on weight mate!” Stu laughed. “But I've put on about a stone like everyone else at uni, not about ten.”

Noah was shocked, and found himself getting hard. Not only had he surpassed Stu like he thought he might, he'd absolutely eclipsed him. “Go on, how much do you weigh then, Mr Skinny?” Noah asked, wondering how much he outweighed him by.

“Like seventeen stone mate,” Stu replied. “You must be, what, twenty? More?”

“Like two-seventy pounds. Probably a bit more now,” he admitted, thinking that he'd not exactly slowed down his eating in the week since he'd last seen Dominic.

“What? What's that in stone?” Stu asked. “Who weighs themselves in pounds?”

“Oh, right, yeah, like, nineteen and a half, maybe,” Dominic said.

“Christ,” Stu said in a low voice reaching out and poking a finger into Noah's gut. “That's fucking huge mate. You were tiny at school.”

“Well, you know, I'm taller than you, so that's a bit of weight isn't it,” Noah pointed out.

Stu laughed. “And the rest! You’re like an inch taller than me, two at most. That hardly adds up to two extra stone, does it?”

“Fuck off,” Noah said, returning Stu’s gut poke with one of his own. “Is there anywhere to buy breakfast around here before we get on the train?”

“Yeah, but you've already eaten haven't you?” Stu said.

“What? What makes you think that?” Noah asked.

Stu laughed. “I saw you throw a McDonalds coffee cup in the bin when you came in, big guy. A bloke your size doesn't go to McDonalds for just a coffee, do you?”

“Oh, yeah, well you know, that wasn't really breakfast, that was just something to eat after I woke up,” Noah protested, thinking back to the two mcmuffins he'd eaten on the way.

“Also known as fucking breakfast,” Stu howled with laughter.

“I'm just thinking we’ll be on the train a while,” Noah said, his cheeks flushing red. “And then we’ve got to get to the hotel, we might not have lunch until late.”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm sure it's a very thoughtfully considered second fucking breakfast,” Stu said while shaking his head. “Come on, yeah, I could eat too. We don't want you dying of hunger, do we, you fat git.”

Sat on the train, Noah regretted not getting as much as he'd like, but Stu had started gawping at him as he'd ordered, and he thought it best to limit himself to a light breakfast today, while Stu got his head around Noah's enhanced size.

“So I've been meaning to say,” Noah started. “I've swapped some of our hostel reservations.”

“What? Why?” Stu asked.

“For nicer hotels,” Noah said. “Don't worry, it's all paid for.”

“What do you mean it's all paid for?” Stu asked. “How are you affording to pay extra for hotels? I thought we agreed the cheapest hostels we could find?”

“It's fine,” Noah reiterated. “It's sorted.”

“Yeah, but I'm asking how,” Stu said. “Go on, you can't just show up suddenly fat and rich and expect me not to ask anything. Did you win some kind of million pound eating contest or what?"

“Haha, very funny,” Noah said, rolling his eyes. “It's just, there's this, well there's this guy, alright, and he's said he's happy to pay for us both. Sees it as some enriching experience for us.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘some guy’?” Stu asked, eyes boggling. “I'd have been less confused if you had said it was the eating contest, to be honest.”

Noah tried to look as nonchalant as possible as he fidgeted in his seat. “It's just this guy I know who's happy to give me some money as, you know, charity or a patronage or whatever, for young people to, I don't know, enrich themselves or whatever.”

Stu narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean a charit- wait, patronage?” He leant forward. “Do you have a fucking sugar daddy?” he whispered harshly.

Noah looked around to see if anyone was listening. “Look, he's not a sugar daddy, alright? He's just this older guy who pays for some stuff for me,” he said, cringing at his own words as he said them.

“You mean like a sugar daddy?” Stu pointed out.

“No!” Noah insisted. “He's just this older guy who wants a bit of company sometimes.”

“Like a sugar daddy.”

“Shut up. We don't, you know, we've never fucked or anything,” Noah said. “He's not interested in any of that. It's just conversation.”

“Conversation he pays you for,” Stu said. “Go on then, where did you meet this not-at-all-a-sugar-daddy?”

Noah flushed red. “An app,” he mumbled after a while.

Stu laughed. “And what was this app called exactly?”

Noah sighed. “Okay, it was a fucking sugar daddy app, okay? I've got a sugar daddy.”

Stu cackled. “I fucking knew it!” he yelled, receiving glares in response. “It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?” He shook his head, laughing to himself.

“Yeah, well, you're getting a free holiday out of it, aren't you?” Noah said, slumping down in his seat and pulling some snacks out of his bag.

-

The two began to eat their way across Europe. Two nights in Paris first, with wine and cheese and bread and fine restaurants. Then Geneva - the original plan was to just spend a few hours there, being too expensive for two poor travelling students, but Dominic's card opened the city and it's restaurants up to them; they booked a hotel for a few of nights of luxury, before moving on to Interlaken.

Noah's gut shook as he pulled his t-shirt off at the side of the lake. Stu whistled and shook his head. Noah laughed and slapped his gut for show; after Stu’s initial shock, he'd gotten used to Noah's larger frame, and the two had settled into an easy rhythm of teasing.

Noah waded into the shallows of the lake and lay back so that he floated with his gut and moobs sticking out of the water in front of him. He closed his eyes, paddled for a moment or two into some clear water further from the shore and lay floating in the sun.

After a while, he heard some splashing and cracked an eye open to see Stu swimming over to him. He allowed himself to sink slightly so that he was treading water and Stu did the same. It was the first time Noah had been swimming since he'd started putting on weight, and he was astonished by how alien it felt. He was so much more buoyant than previously, his fat rising up around him. Each time he moved, he felt the same heaviness and resistance he'd gotten used to on land magnified, his heavier body moving slowly through the water. Noah was happy for the cover of the water and his overhanging gut; the sensations were causing him to get hard in his swimming shorts.

“I think it's time we really need to talk about this mate,” Stu said, gesturing at Noah.

Noah looked down, not seeing anything amiss. “Talk about what?” he asked.

Stu leant forward and poked Noah's gut under the water. “This! Bloody hell, talk about the elephant in the room.”

Noah shrugged. “We've talked about it,” he said.

“Yeah, we've joked about it” Stu agreed. “But we've hardly, I mean, we've not properly talked about it, have we?”

“What's there to talk about?” Noah asked, feigning ignorance. Obviously he knew that Stu would eventually want to ask questions about his shocking weight gain, but it was just so much easier to make jokes about it.

Stu sighed and allowed himself to fall back. Noah noticed that his own small beer belly rose out of the water like Noah's did, though not nearly to the same extent. Noah appreciated the lack of eye-contact the position granted. “Are you alright?” Stu asked. “Like, really alright? Nothing’s wrong?”

Noah floated on his back too, mirroring Stu's position. “Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Really. It's just, being at uni, beer weight and stuff.”

Stu laughed. “No mate. This” he slapped his gut for emphasis, “is beer weight.” He leant over and slapped Noah's much larger gut. “This is a fucking eating disorder.” He was quiet for a while. “It's not, is it? An eating disorder? Or you're not depressed or ill or something?”

“Definitely not depressed or ill,” Noah reassured Stu. He was quiet for a while though. Did he have an eating disorder? He didn't feel like he could control it anymore, that was for sure. “I don't think it's an eating disorder either,” he said after a while. “Like I know I'm not eating normal amounts but…” He paused, gathering courage. “I'm enjoying it, I guess? Eating whatever I like, not worrying about what it's doing to my waistline.”

Stu nodded. “Good,” he said after a while. “Good,” he repeated. The two floated quietly for a while. “Has it got something to do with your sugar daddy?” he asked after a few minutes.

“I don't have a-”

“Yeah, yeah, we've done this bit already,” Stu interrupted Noah. “Whatever, has it got something to do with your older gentleman friend who takes you out to nice restaurants and pays for you to go on holiday and gives you money and who you met on a sugar daddy website but who is not a sugar daddy, somehow?”

Noah huffed. “Why do you ask that?” he asked eventually.

“Because no offense,” Stu replied. “But you're hardly sugar baby material these days, are you?”

“Oi!”

“Look, I'm not saying I am either!” Stu protested. “I'm just saying that the Noah that went off to uni was a little more conventionally sugar baby material, and the one that I'm interrailing with is a bit more high-blood-sugar baby.”

“You've been saving that one up, haven't you?” Noah said.

“Thought of it the other day,” Stu said, the pride evident in his voice. “But it is, isn't it? Your sugar daddy likes you with a bit more padding.”

Noah sighed. No point denying it, really. “Yes,” he admitted. “We started going out for these massive dinners and he'd send me treats and pay for all my food shops and then after a while, Dom told me that-”

“Fuck off!” Stu yelled, twisted to tread water again and face Noah. “You do not call your sugar daddy ‘Dom’!”

“That's his actual name you twat,” Noah said, moving to tread water as well. “Anyway, Dom- Dominic eventually said that he liked that I'd put on some weight and…”

“And what?” Stu said, filling the gap Noah had left. “He started paying you to get fat?” Noah held his breath. “Oh my god, he's paying you to get fat, isn't he?”

Noah clenched his teeth. “It's not… It's not prostitution or anything,” he said. “He pays for food and takes me for dinner, I've put on some weight because I'm eating well, he likes me bigger. It’s- I mean it's separate things, you know? He's not giving me money to get fat, he's giving me money because I am fat.”

Stu laughed. “You can fucking say that again,” he said. “Alright, alright, you're not the heftiest whore in Halifax, fine, whatever you say.”

“I've never been to Halifax,” Noah pointed out.

“Alliteration, innit?” Stu said. “Go on then, how much does he pay you?” Stu asked quietly, moving toward Noah a little, seemingly forgetting how loud their conversation was just moments prior.

Noah shifted uncomfortably. “Hundred pounds for every pound, or well, we usually do a grand for ten,” he said.

Stu almost sank under the water in shock, and came back up coughing. “Fuck off! A grand for ten pounds?” He realised how loud he was being and looked around at the people swimming away from them towards the shore. “Go on then, how much have you earned?” he asked, much quieter.

Noah sighed. “Ten grand,” he said.

Stu’s eyes went wide. “Ten gra- that's, No, mate, I mean, that's a hundred pounds,” he whispered. “What's that in stone?”

Noah tilted his head back and winced. “Seven or so,” he said. He looked up at Stu. “I wanted to pay for the trip, you know, but I spent some of it on a car, and then a bit into savings, and then,” he floated back and sighed. “Fuck me, last time I saw him, he said he'd pay for everything. That he didn't want me spending the money I'd saved up.”

Stu almost sank beneath the surface again as he laughed. “So you've put on, and I'm going to slow down for this bit, you've put on one hundred actual pounds to earn ten grand to not spend around Europe?”

“Well, see,” Noah said, placing a hand thoughtfully on the ledge of his gut. “No. Well, yes. But no. If I hadn't put on a hundred pounds, he wouldn't have offered to pay. One way or another, I needed to get fat to go interrailing.”

Stu’s eyes went wide. “Fuck,” he said. “You're right, you know.” He reached his hands out and placed them on Noah's gut. Noah’s cock twitched beneath his gut at the touch, and he hoped Stu hadn't noticed. “I reckon you didn't actually need ten grand either way though.”

Noah sighed and closed his eyes. “I know, I know,” he agreed. “I can't control my appetite anymore. After I bought the car I kind of thought I could just do with two or three grand, but then…” He motioned down at himself.

“One hundred pounds later,” Stu finished for him. They were both quiet for a while, until Stu laughed to himself. “Here, I don't reckon he'd pay me to putting on weight as well, do you?”

“Fuck off,” Noah said, laughing. When Stu didn't respond, just carrying on looking questioningly, Noah continued. “You're not serious?” he asked. “You'd want to get fat for a few grand.”

Stu shrugged. “Why not? You've done it and you were a shrimp at school. I'd blow you out of the water.”

Noah laughed. “Oh you would, would you?”

Stu nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “And yeah, why not? I could put on some weight. I can barely keep it off anyway, especially the way you've been making me fucking eat on this trip, might as well make some cash while I do it.”

“The way I've been making you eat? You were planning on doing weight watchers before, were you?” Noah asked. “Anyway, you're too skinny for him,” he said. “And you're not even gay anyway!”

Stu laughed. “Well not being gay doesn't matter if there's no funny business, right?” Noah grumbled at having gotten caught out. “Alright, alright big guy,” he said, raising his hands up. “I won't steal your sugar daddy.” He laughed again.

-

After Interlaken, the two of them went north to Germany, first to Munich, which they experienced by slowly wandering from beer hall to beer hall all day, taking in history and culture largely incidentally to the beer, sausages and bread they consumed. Then north again to Berlin, where Noah was disheartened to find Stu had actually planned non-eating based activities for the two of them.

“Fuck me, but it's good to get off my feet,” Noah said as he shuffled into a booth at a restaurant on their first evening. He was surprised at the way the table of the booth bumped into the crest of his gut. “I’m starved,” he told Stu, who shook his head.

“You've been eating all day,” Stu pointed out.

“Hardly!” Noah protested. “Okay, so we had lunch-”

“Two lunches,” Stu pointed out.

“Then we went to that currywurst stall, and that's it,” Noah said.

“We went to three currywurst stalls.”

“Whatever,” Noah said, finding himself growing irritable as his stomach growled at him. “That was hours ago. And besides, I've been on my feet all day!”

Stu laughed. “So have I!”

“Yeah well you're not…” Noah grumbled quietly.

“Go on,” Stu said as a grin spread across his face. “I'm not what?”

“Not as bloody fat as me, are you?” Noah said, blushing. The two hadn't talked again about Noah's weight since Interlaken, even to joke about it. Noah got the impression that Stu was waiting for him to bring it up.

Stu laughed. “He finally admits it!”

“Well I can hardly bloody hide it at this point, can I?” Noah snapped. Despite having talked about it, Noah still couldn't help feeling embarrassed about how far he'd let himself go. “Look, sorry, I'm just hangry,” he apologised. He passed a menu over to Stu. “Let’s order, yeah?”

“Don't worry about it mate,” Stu said. “I've been on the receiving end of fat jokes for years, it's nice that someone else can take over for once.” He looked at the menu for a while. “I'll probably just go for a burger. Fancy a starter?”

“Yeah, I'll probably do the same,” he said absentmindedly. “Couple of starters, couple of burgers, couple of sides.”

“Fucking hell mate,” Stu laughed.

“What?”

“I don't even think you know how much you're eating these days, do you?” Stu asked. “I said I might get a starter and a burger, you mentally double it and add extras. And I bet you'll want a döner on the way back."

Noah blushed. “Yeah, alright, I get it,” he mumbled. “I should start cutting back.”

“No, I don't mean…” Stu considered for a moment. “Maybe I could have a second burger too, you know? You're right, we have been walking about all day.”

Noah raised an eyebrow and smiled to himself. He'd noticed Stu doing this a lot - pushing himself beyond what he initially wanted to eat, trying to match Noah bite for bite. Each time Noah suggested they stop for street food, or grab a quick dessert or even extra meal, Stu would protest, and then quietly acquiesce. He never managed to keep up with Noah of course, but he made a valiant effort nonetheless. Noah was starting to wonder if Stu felt threatened - he'd been the big guy for years, and now previously skinny Noah was running rings around him. Metaphorically of course - Noah struggled to run anywhere these days.

“No, no,” Noah teased. “If you can't manage it, just order the one.”

Stu bristled. “I can manage two easy,” he insisted. “I think you're right about a couple of sides as well, those onion rings look good. If you want to just get one, you go ahead.”

Noah shrugged. “Maybe I should just order one,” he agreed. “After all, I'll end up having to eat your second one for you anyway.”

Stu’s mouth dropped open, before he hurriedly hailed a waiter and proceeded to order double what he wanted.

-

After Berlin, Prague and its cheap beer, roast meat and heavy dumplings. Noah discovered a love for a dessert of a tower of pastry filled with cream, which he would eat non-stop between beers and snacks.

Then east, on an overnight train to Warsaw, where the two men had to convince two Spaniards to allow them to sleep on the bottom bunk - Noah in particular was concerned that the berth might not take his girth. Poland brought more heavy food and more beer. South, after Warsaw, to Krakow for a few days, and then continuing on, through Slovakia to Hungary, and Budapest.

“You need bigger clothes mate,” Noah told Stu, poking the sliver of fat hanging out the bottom of his t-shirt as they left the train.

“Says you!” Stu retorted, grabbing Noah's much larger wedge of fat at the bottom of his t-shirt. “And you broke that button in Warsaw.”

“Yeah, well, this is the biggest I have right now,” Noah said. “You could at least start wearing my clothes.”

Stu patted his gut and sighed. “You think it's that bad?” he asked.

“Oh fuck off,” Noah said, elbowing Stu in his side.

“I'm serious!” Stu said. “I'm not the size you were when we left are you?”

Noah looked him up and down. “Probably not far off mate,” he told him. “Catching me up.”

Stu laughed and slapped Noah's gut. “I think I'm still a while off that, don't you worry. You've not exactly been losing weight either, have you.”

“I suppose you're right,” Noah said, caressing the soft fat spilling out the bottom of his t-shirt, and doing his best to ignore his hardening and confusing erection.

“I kind of get it, though,” Stu said, as the two crammed into the back seat of a taxi.

“Get what?” Noah said, his mouth full of a chocolate bar.

“I kind of get why you like it,” Stu clarified. “Being fat.”

“Fuck off,” Noah blustered. “I don't- what do you- I don't like being fat.”

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Stu appeased him. “I get why you like eating so much then, and not giving a shit about the consequences.” Neither said anything for a few moments. “It feels kind of manly though, doesn't it?”

Noah looked over and then quickly looked away again to pretend he hadn't seen Stu's hard-on in his too tight trousers. “Yeah,” he agreed quietly. “Really manly. And soft. To touch I mean. It feels good.”

“Yeah,” Stu said, growing quiet. “It’s nice. How soft it is.”

“Maybe it wouldn't be so bad, you know,” Noah said. “To gain-”

At that moment the taxi arrived at their hotel, and the driver thrust a card reader in their faces. Noah dutifully tapped Dominic's card and the two collected their suitcases.

Noah lay in his pants on the bed of their hotel room while Stu had a shower.

“They've got a scale,” Stu called through the bathroom door.

“A what?”

“A scale,” Stu repeated, sticking his head through the door. “You know, for weighing yourself.”

Noah clambered off the bed, doing his best not to show how excited he was. “Go on then,” he told Stu. “You first, what's the damage.”

Stu stood with a towel wrapped around his waist, water still dripping down his body hair, around the curve of his gut. He nudged the scale with a toe to turn it on then, swallowed nervously and then stepped on.

“It's in kilograms,” he said. “I don't really…”

“What does it say?” Noah asked, grabbing his phone.

“One hundred and twenty.”

Noah typed the number into Google and showed Stu the result. “Two hundred and sixty five pounds,” he told him. “A little under nineteen stone.”

“Fuck me,” Stu said. “That's almost two stone since we left.” Noah once again did his best to act like he didn't notice the growing bulge of Stu’s erection. “Go on,” he told Noah. “You next.”

Noah stood on the scales and sucked in his gut to see the numbers.

“What does it say?” Stu asked.

“Just give me a moment,” Noah said, typing the conversion into Google. “I'm just… oh fuck me.”

“What? How much is it?”

“Three hundred and thirteen,” Noah said. “I weigh three hundred and thirteen pounds.” He lifted his gut and let go, watching as it bounced and rippled. “I've put on forty pounds.” He did his best to stop his own growing hard-on.

Stu gave a low whistle. “No wonder none of your clothes are fitting.” He reached out and ran a hand over Noah's belly, before raising his hand to his chest and lightly lifting a moob. “And we've still got a while before we go back. It uh…” He swallowed hard. “It looks good on you though mate. Like we were saying in the taxi, you know. Manly.”

Noah nodded. “You too,” he said. He reached a hand out and placed it on Stu’s own gut.

Stu abruptly walked away, back into the room, and started hurriedly getting changed.

“You alright mate?” Noah asked, confused about the sudden change in demeanor.

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be?” Stu said, determinedly facing away from Noah. Noah saw him adjust crotch.

[invisibleraven]

Haunted Holidays

December 20: Coming Home <-AO3 link!

Emily looked glumly at the boxes before her-she used to love Christmas, once upon a time. Did up the whole house the day after Thanksgiving, started her baking soon after. It was always a joyous time.

She can recall her first Christmas with Mitch, the two of them dancing to Nat King Cole playing on the turntable with only the tree lights to guide them. The year that Luke was nearly four, his big hazel eyes peeking over the counter in amazement as she made butter, sugar, and flour transform into cookies. How she caught him trying to scale the closet in an attempt to find presents the year he was seven.

The joy on his face when she gifted him the guitar the next year.

That was when everything changed. Music became an obsession, consuming Luke’s every waking moment. He was good, there was no arguing that, but Emily missed him helping her bake, or untangling her yarn as she knitted him another beanie.

She missed her son, but she had no idea how much worse it would get.

It was the year he was seventeen-long limbed and voice deep. She had found his grades-all low to failing. When she confronted him, he admitted to having dropped out. Who needed school when he was going to be a famous rock star?

It had been a horrible fight, harsh words that stung her heart to hear, even more vitriol spilling from her lips as Luke packed a bag and left.

He hadn’t been back since. And he never would be, since that July the police came to tell her that he little boy was dead.

That had been twenty five years ago.

Since then, the joy of the season had vanished for Emily. It was hard to decorate the tree with ornaments Luke had made as a child. To hang her and Mitch’s stockings but leave Luke’s in the box. To put aside the pang of the unopened presents still sitting in his room, even though she ached to put them under the tree. Like he would waltz in the door after band practice to open them.

It hurt a little less this year though. That nice Julie girl had given them Luke’s song-an apology and lament for her and what had been broken between them. She had come back a few times, to bring them cookies most recently, and had left with a new scarf wound around her neck.

She struck Emily as the kind of girl that Luke would be into; pretty, musical, kind. Though Luke had told her before he left that he liked everyone, and didn’t see anything wrong with that.

Emily wished she had taken the time to validate him then. To let him know she didn’t care who he loved, or how many people he chose to be with, as long as he was safe and happy. But she would never get the chance.

“Okay hun?” Mitch asked, hugging her from behind.

She hummed. “It’s still hard.”

“We don’t have to-“

She shook her head. “I don’t want to skip Christmas, I just wish…”

“I know,” he whispered, kissing the side of her head. “Let’s get started okay?”

He had already put the outside lights up, though neither of them had bothered turning them on, despite Christmas being less than a week away. They slowly put up everything-the garland, the wreaths, the Nativity.

“Remember when Luke used to play with the shepherds alongside his Ninja Turtles?” Mitch reminisced. “Or the time he replaced the baby Jesus with a Lego figure?”

Emily chuckled, “Oh yes, we got so mad-though Karen Mercer told me Alex used to do the same thing.”

“Have you spoken to them lately?” Mitch asked.

Emily shook her head. “I sent them a card, but that’s all. I don’t expect to get one in return-you know what they were like.”

“And Evelyn?”

“Sent a card to the forwarding address she gave me, but it got returned to sender, so who knows where the Peters are now,” Emily replied, running her finger along the edge of a photo of the boys, all smiling and twinkling eyes.

Soon all that was left was the tree, and Mitch squeezed her hand-it had always been Luke’s favourite thing to trim it. Insisting he could put the star on the top of his dad helped. Then being able to do it himself, with pride. That last year he was alive he hadn’t bothered to help, off at one gig or practice or another.

They had replaced the tree since then, a nice pre-lit thing that was a little smaller than their older one, but that was fine with Emily. With only the two of them they didn’t need a big tree.

She was about to start trimming when a ring of the doorbell sounded through their home. “Carollers or charity?” Mitch bet with an arch of his eyebrows.

“That or the Farris lady wants a cup of sugar again,” Emily replied. “I’ll get it.”

Only when she opened the door, it wasn’t any of those. There, looking just like the day he left, was Luke.

“Hey Ma, Merry Christmas.” He was holding hands with Julie…and was that Reggie? “Can we come in?”

[edennill]

the sand of quiet years in the hourglass falling

(POV: Elendil)

---------------------------------------------

When I think about my father now, even to me, he seems more legend than man; he who sailed to beg mercy on our wrongs and never returned, as if to make of his life an incomplete refrain to an old story. And there remain in my mind, these little fragments here and there, of him as the leader of a hounded people, and by then I was almost his equal -- but there were other times that I have to strive in order to remember now, when even allowing for civil unrest, we lived in comparative peace... and I was a child, and Miriel -- and Pharazon.

The hardest thing to accept now, this is -- that I used to play tag with Pharazon.

You almost forgot that, later; you had to, when he became the tyrant your people will remember him as -- but if you had feared for you and yours, you feared for him, and whatever fate might await him, for his sake too. Until slowly, you began to forget you had known him as anything else than a monster -- but now, this too is gone.

Ar-Pharazon is gone, and you are here, despite the very odds -- only you wonder, gone where; and now that the horror of those years is far away, you can afford to fear the answer, and hope for the best.

But my father, my father hadn't always been a legend; hadn't always been a tale of sorrow. He used to hold me on his knee and teach me the stars --among other things. He taught me all I know. Even as I rule today, I rule on his principles, though he never taught me to govern, never knew I'd become King. Myself -- the first King of Gondor and Arnor and the Last Lord of Andunie. Or was that my father?

He is gone now, I think, whatever the end of his long ago journey. Ah -- what difference can there be to me anymore? Is should feel easier, being able to put the past behind so decisively. But I cannot do so, and who could? I wonder if he had a grave.

Did my father do well in sailing? I cannot say. I am a ruler and have judged many men for breaking laws with noble intentions, and sometimes the intentions truly are pure, and sometimes they are a mistake. He never wished to break the ban; his aim was noble, but was it did needful? What did he achieve? I shall only know when I see him next.

I haven't really wondered when that will be, not in recent years. It is strange how you can not notice that you have forgotten what it is not to live in fear of the king's soldiers pounding at your door -- and then, when reality changes, forget what it is to be watchful for danger in every waking hour.

Still, sometimes I wish I could talk with my father about this country I'm building, just once.

-----------------------------------------------

Ao3 link

[platinumrosetail]

It's been a while I have an request!

Can I have a yandere botw Link and gagondorf ( probably spelled his name wrong) x a female child gallade Pokemon reader where they find the reader confused and scared

So I just got botw recently as I got that game and tears of the kingdom. These are the only games of Zelda that I have ever played so I don’t know much of the lore plus I’m still not that far in the game.

Since I’m not that far in the game I’ll make this pretty close to where I am and change a few things.

The requester said that I could have it separate or together so i decided together as it would be easier since I’m just now getting into the fandom.

Anyway hope you like what I did with it! Also this might turn out short because of memory and me not being able to think of anything but hopefully it turns out to be not short so wish me luck.

Warning: noob author, female reader, platonic yandere characters, possible violence, and others.

Characters: link, ganon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was after the calamity when link first saw you. You had met link while he was out in the forest looking for stuff like the days where he had to forage for things when the calamity was still happening, you were just walking around noticing he different plants and creatures you weren’t familiar with and in doing so didn’t notice the male in front of you; which was link, and bumping into him.

He decided to bring you to ganon’s castle as he was worried on why such a young child was out all alone where they could get hurt or worse killed as the mobs of enemies are still not yet tamed to be good.

You just evolved into a gallade shockingly enough though you were still young and inexperienced in fighting so all you did was train until something you don’t know happened and next thing you know is that you were in this unfamiliar world.

Gannon was shocked to see his lover bring in a child with him after coming back from his adventure in the woods. When explained of how link found her he decided that she would be their child and heir as he saw how link is with her even with how soon link met her.

Gannon and link both was informed by her about how her species is and that she would’ve been a gardevoir as s that was the female version, but she got her wish about being a gallade instead, she also explain the many species in her world tyhat she could remember, even saying how the two reminds her of certain pokemon; Gannon being a like a heatran that you’ve heard about in passings one time. Link reminds you of a pokemon from johto called celebi.

You meet Zelda later on who reminds you of a man-made Pokémon called magearna which was made for a princess and Zelda’s a princess. Even though link is her friend you don’t get to know her much as ganon made link realize all of the trauma she may unintentionally or intentionally placed on him so link made sure to retain as her bodyguard and have little interaction with Zelda as much as he could without seeming suspicious.

You met Sidon the prince of zora’s; he reminds you of a red gyarados mixed with a garchomp and when you told him that he was clueless and fascinated. He wished that he had gotten to link so you’d be his and link’s daughter but sadly he was fixed into a arranged marriage with yona and he sadly couldn’t get out of it plus ganon already had link and ganon’s powerful, too powerful for him to beat. He loved yona but as a friend and sister and not as a lover.

(A/n: hope y’all like what i did with it!! Also this was referenced off a au of requester and mine that we made and i used it to give me an idea on how to post it. Reason why I know a few things even though i recently got the game is because i accidentally spoiled myself of what happened in totk. Anyway hope y’all have a wonderful day/evening/night!!!)

[astroyongie]

obviously October is over, but I was wondering if maybe you'd consider doing the rest of the magic info parts

☾𖤓 Magic Info 2 ☾𖤓

All questions from the questionnaire are answered here <3 enjoy !

Recently I've been seeing spiders in my room more often. Within the last week or so, I saw four spiders (3 in my room and 1 in my bathroom which is right next to my room). But what I find kinda weird is that they would show up within a couple of hours of each other. So I would see one spider and then an hour later for example, I would see another one. This happened twice. I might be overthinking this, but for some reason I feel that the spider's presence could be related to a spiritual message. I did some research on spider symbolism and thought maybe my spirit guides could be telling me something, but I'm not entirely sure what. Just for some context, I've been going through a difficult period with my skin for about a year and a half now, and while I've made a lot of progress on my own through research, I feel like the spider's presence is trying to tell me something about my skin. I was wondering if maybe you have any insight on this or at least could help me break down the potential spiritual symbolism here. 

When it comes to spider symbolism, I only know about 3. 1: creativity and artsy symbolism, where the spider is a meaning that you need to be less focused on your thoughts and rational side and more on your intuition and your art. The spider is trying to tell you, that you need to go with the flow and use your hands to create movement to go forward. 2: Patience and building. Like the spider does its webs, it says that you need to be patient and to keep manifesting when you are working toward something. You cannot give up and remember that everything you do is interconnected to something that will be created so even when you feel like it’s not worth it, well it’s always for something. 3: Ancient and illusion. The spider can in the last meaning say that you are someone of an old soul but instead of listening to your intuition, you are allowing yourself to be softened by illusion. Be careful, if you don’t move, you will get bitten. 

I really want to connect with my spirit guides, but for some reason I'm so afraid to try. I've been dealing with this feeling for quite a long time and want to be able to take the leap. How can I overcome my fears of the spiritual world?

It is okay not to feel ready to enter into the spiritual world and you can take your time by doing so. It’s also important to remember that some people have to go through spiritual awakenings and those can be very painful to live through. So taking your time is key. Also, try to see why you are feeling so fearful. What puts so much fear? Is it because of your religion? afraid of ghosts? Of the unknown? Of doing something wrong? Start by searching why there’s fear and then do your search in a soft way. Spiritual work can be a long process and you are allowed to take your time. Start with small things (read about angels, or about crystals or even herbs). And slowly search more. Knowledge is key to feeling more reassured <3 

why is tarot forbidden in christianity? Is it really demonic? Because I have never sensed anything demonic about you so i was wondering 

Firstly thank you for not sensing anything demonic about me, because Gods be blessed, I do not wish to work with any low astral entity. Not into the questions. Why is tarot forbidden? From what I know, it is not forbidden but “not well seen” because Christianity sees tarot as being something practiced by witches and for them witches are linked directly to the devil (which is not true at all). Keep in mind that the whole witch hunt is misogynist and anti-pagan propaganda done throughout the 1st century to around the 17th century. It’s so deeply rooted that still today, such spiritual practices aren’t well seen. So no, Tarot isn’t demonic ^^ it’s simply a tool people use in order to connect with their spiritual guides or to have some info about the future or even advice on how to proceed. Now are the cards true or coincidences? That’s up to you to decide  

why does the year start with the zodiac sign with capricorn? In older scripts of past civilisations they usually started with aries of something else. 

I have honestly no idea why it starts with January. In the pagan culture, it does start indeed with Aries (which is why it’s the first sign) since in their year wheel, the year begins around 19-22 March (spring solstice, Ostara in the wheel) and it starts with Imbolc 1st February (Aquarius) and Pisces being the last which is the time during Imbolc and Ostara. But really, I don’t know why although if I recall the Romans were the ones who installed the year and January comes from Janus a God of the Roman Pantheon. Since the roman empire then got Christian, they probably adapted the year wheel to make it more acceptable. 

What herbs can help heal the small intestine and bladder?

I am not the best at herbology, so please talk to a doctor before you try any of these. When it comes to bladder and urinary infections in general, you can get teas or anything that contains bearberry leaf, garlic, or cranberry. Also, Green and chamomile tea as long as it’s the real flower and not those little baskets you buy in supermarkets. For your small intestine, it’s important to make sure you aren’t suffering from any underlying issue. Using probiotics, drinking lots of water, and eating lots of fruit can help with the fiber. For the herbs, I would say Licorice root (Raveendra et al, 2011) while avoiding refined sugar and alcohol. 

Yongie, how do I know if I'm undergoing a spiritual awakening?

You just feel it in your gut. Like honestly, spiritual awakenings aren’t always funny to go through, and for some, they are potentially painful and traumatic (although necessary once we finish the whole process.) I have gone through two spiritual awakenings and in my case, it always involves death of something or someone dear to me. And although I usually hate it so much and can spend lots of time blocking it, once the spiritual awakening is done, I usually feel much better. For some people it includes healing instead, so it really is one thing experience that isn’t the same for everyone. But how do you know? You just know. Deep down things shift, things feel more intense and you have experiences that are just not explainable. 

i once read that if an animal pops up into someones dream very often, it is a sign that it is their totem/spiritual animal. What are your thoughts?

It could be yes, it would all depend on the feelings and the settings of the dream and how you feel about it every time they appear 

how do i detect ghost/spirit? I have been trying to improve this for a while but have no idea if my mind is playing tricks on me.

It’s important to understand that seeing things isn’t a thing that everyone can do (and one cannot become a medium as we know, you can be clairvoyante for exemple, feel things and see things as a shape but seeing them as people are a gift that only mediums have). Now into the question! How can you improve if you want to see things? First make sure you understand that if you do that, you will be seeing things that will be scary and not everything is nice and gentle. So be ready to protect yourself and your energy. I would say to keep working on your third eye development but also to keep pushing it within your time. But also remember that energies will only show themselves to you they want to be seen or felt, so if you don’t see or feel anything.

Is it possible to see your spirit guides while you're conscious? Or is it something that you can develop?

I have personally never seen spiritual guides while being conscious (only in dreams or during a semi-unconscious state through meditation). I don’t think we are able to see them that way since their vibration is way too high and even developing it we won’t be able to do so. You can see signs they send, but seeing them physically isn’t possible. 

[bates--boy]

He just needed to get through tonight. It was manageable. One show, one hour, a handful of songs. Then, they go backstage. Where the reason he's still breathing is waiting for him, probably fast asleep now while latched onto her mother's tit. But just holding her would be enough; just taking in her milky scent and letting her hold his pinky like she usually does in her sleep would be enough to center his world and make everything okay.

He just needed to get through tonight.

In front of that large crowd, too pissed with bottles of champagne and beer to care about the cold that eats into the bones. Why aren't they home? Why aren't any of them home? Was celebrating with family and friends too damn boring for them that they needed to come here and make him dance like a monkey to ring in the new year?

God, Peter hates them!

No, no...

Peter squeezed his eyes shut. He doesn't hate them, he just hates two people. Both whom are long dead and sure as fuck not within that crowd, but still tormenting him from beyond the grave.

"Peter, open your eyes."

He did, and blinked. The first thing he thought was, "Don't look at me like that", when he was greeted with Tarsha's assessing scowl, thick lips pulled into a sort-of thin line as his crew mate held a mascara brush aloft.

"I need to do your lashes," Tarsha said, seated in the director's chair across from Peter.

"Right, sorry," Peter said, leaning in a little closer. Tarsha leaned back in, too, and coated the makeup on Peter's eyelashes.

"Sweetie, I think you need to talk about it."

If it weren't for the chatter of the production team around them, and the clamber and cheer of the audience outside, the air would have fallen silent between them.

"...What do you mean?"

"I mean whatever is eating you up inside." Tarsha worked on the other eye's lashes. As she worked, Peter noted the stenciled snowflake he had put on her left eye, wishing that he had opted for that for himself, too.

"There's nothing eating me up inside."

"You say that, but have you looked at yourself recently?" Tarsha stuck the mascara brush back in its tube and grabbed the palette and angled brush, coating the soft bristles with white and silver blush to dust along Peter's cheekbones. "You're starting to look like before, when you--"

She stopped, her hand pausing it's blush application, before starting again as if not missing a beat.

"When I what?" Peter prodded. But he knew. Smashed glass, gashes on hands. White flashes. When all Tarsha did was sigh, Peter said again, "When I what, Tarsha?"

"I'm just saying that," Tarsha tried, setting the palette back in their bag and looking Petee straight in his eye this time, "we're your friends. We're your family. I know that none of us are Naseem, but--"

Peter patter his knees and started to rise. "Yeah, I'm not gonna--"

"No, wait!" Tarsha grabbed Peter's wrist. When he made no move to fight her off, she gently guided him back down, still holding onto him. "I know it's hard to share what's going on with you, but holding it all in like this isn't going to help you. You can open up to us!"

Peter let his eyes fall to their linked hands.

"You do trust us, don't you?"

His gazed flickered back up, and he knew he was an open book, because he could see in her face, the shock, the sting, the sunken disappointment, that she read every single reply that came to Peter's head.

It's too much. It's too heavy.

You're human. You wouldn't understand.

You wouldn't know the first thing about helping someone beyond repair!

The last time I trusted people with my secret, they saw me as a slut to fix their failed fucking marriage.

And ultimately

No.

"Yeah..." Peter nodded weakly, hoping he sounded convincing. "Yeah, I do."

"Okay," Tarsha said, sounding just as weak, and definitely not convinced. Peter decided that that was not his problem for thr next hour. "Just, uhm, remember that we love you."

"I know."

They were called onstage. Lined up side by side, barely getting warm by the heaters situated in the corners of the erected stage, The Mizfists waited in the dim lighting for their cue. Although Peter stated down his mic to the crowd packed into the square, what he saw was Sadaf, swaddled and warm in Ashira's arms.

The bass came, felt first from the bottom of his feet and sparking every nerve in his body on the way up. He just needed to get through tonight. It was manageable. One show, one hour, a handful of songs.

Peter grabbed the mic off its stand and stepped up, hand raised high in the Stortorget.

He craned his head back, shouting to the whole world that he knew was listening, "What is up, Stockhoooooolm?! Happy fucking New Year!!"

[sheepwithspecs]

Anniversaries

|| FFXIV || Rated T ||

Ao3 Link

It starts with a flower.

The daft fool’s gone and bought her a flower, of all things.

Her. A flower.

Shocked as she is, there’s no real choice but to accept it. She takes the proffered blossom, nearly as large as the palm of her hand, and stares at it without a word. Tiny, pointed petals are fanned in neat circles around its knotted center, a dazzling crimson array; they look sharp, dangerous, like beautiful little daggers. Carefully, so carefully, she runs her fingers over one of the larger petals near its thick stem. It’s baby-soft beneath her curious fingertips, the vibrant color matching perfectly with her painted nails.

“Why?” It’s not that she hates the gift—quite the opposite, really. No one has ever given her a flower before. No one has ever dared. Rather than address her directly, Carvallain chooses to speak to the air above her head.

“You see, that is… er… I suppose one might call it—” His usual poised manner is stilted, affected by nerves that only seem to arise around her. Any other time, she would revel in the fact that she can make him nervous without so much as lifting a finger. However, now is not the time for mind games. She wishes he was more confident in his delivery, his prowess in the art of courtship, or… or whatever the hells this was supposed to be. “… an anniversary gift, naturally.”

Anniversary? Her eyes widen, lips parting in silent confusion. Anniversary of what? Casting her eyes across the plaza, she finds the Aftcastle suspiciously devoid of decoration. Nor can she remember the Admiral sanctioning any new holidays recently. She chews her lip, running through the calendar in her mind and coming up blank. He stares at her with increasing agitation, all but fidgeting in place. He glances towards the alehouse, fingers dancing in erratic patterns on his crossed arms, and she wonders if he secretly wants to make a run for it.

“What anniversary?” she finally asks, puzzled beyond measure. There’s no point in dragging it out any longer, even if it is fun to watch him squirm. He looks at her strangely, thin lips twisted in an expression that—if she didn’t know better—she might call a sullen pout.

“Ours.” Eh? Well, she thinks, the words hovering on the tip of her tongue, that’s news to me. Since when did they have an anniversary? What’s more, when had they decided on a date? Even if Admiral Merlwyb held a musket to her head, she would not have been able to pinpoint the day Carvallain had first propositioned her as a lover. They had danced circles around each other for ages before ever entertaining the idea of becoming “official”, a term the Herald enjoyed throwing around whenever their crews made the front page.

Besides: how could they have an anniversary when the nature of their relationship was still so… nebulous? In her eyes, Carvallain was an unfathomably complicated mixture of lover, rival, partner, adversary, and companion. That being said, she had no idea what she was to him. Neither of them bothered with labels. Whatever it was… simply was.

And now he—self-righteous, long-eared fool that he is—had apparently decided on his own that the two of them need an anniversary, complete with gifts. What’s more: he’d given her a flower, and she had accepted it. Now, the ball was in her proverbial court. She was meant to do something in return. But… what?

“Do you like it?” he asks suddenly, tongue catching on the last syllable. She looks again at the flower, crimson petals fluttering in the salty breeze. If anyone else had bothered to ask her such a ridiculous question, she would have told them point blank where they could stick their next bouquet. What did she look like? Only airheaded village maidens had the time to sit around sniffing flowers, plucking the petals one by one with a silly little smile on their silly little faces.

She is a woman! A pirate! A corsair with more blood on her hands than a butcher! And yet… and yet here she stands, heart melting into a soft, gooey heap. For a flower, of all things.

“Mm.” Her lips quirk as she attempts to summon the words that would accurately match the cloying warmth in her chest. It unfurls behind her sternum, painting her cheeks in a shade dark enough to rival the petals in her hand. “Aye. Suppose so.” It doesn’t feel like much, but it’s enough; he visibly relaxes, mouth smoothing into that haughty grin she so loves to hate.

“It’s a red chrysanthemum,” he explains, his hand fluttering in the air between them. “Do you know what it means?” Means? Since when do flowers mean anything? They were just… plants! Glorified weeds!

“No-o-o,” she says, eyeing him with suspicion. Waiting for the other shoe to fall, for him to laugh out loud at her blind naivety. Flowers, she grumbles to herself. Foolish, foppish business, that. To her growing astonishment, he blushes almost as hard as she does. It’s not easy to spy the flush on his cheeks, but she’s learned to tell by the slant of his gaze, the way he avoids her questioning look, the quick movement of his throat as he gulps. “What?” she demands, peering up at him with narrowed eyes.  

“Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“Obstinate woman! Will you please just take it?”

He practically shoves the thing into her hand, metal warm on her palm. His own hands tremble as he closes her fingers around the clasp, holding them as though daring her to open her fist. Her multiple attempts to break free come to naught, a near-silent struggle in the center of his ornate bed.

“Not—” She breaks off with a growl, the nails of her free hand digging into his wrist. “Not until ye tell me why!” You never take them off! she wants to shout—and would, if her mind wasn’t so preoccupied with escaping his grip. But she hates being held down against her will, and—though Carvallain would never purposefully hurt her, she knows this—the longer she struggles, the tighter the knot at the base of her throat feels. Given the chance, it might choke her.

“Let go!” It had been much easier to escape her da, with his grubby, ale-soaked hands holding about as much grip as an oil slick on a rainy foredeck. But Carvallain’s long fingers can encircle her wrist with room to spare, leaving her no way of breaking free.

“Rhoswen.” There is a desperation to his voice. “Don’t struggle so, my—”  

“Le’ggo!” He obeys, the sudden release sending her careening backwards on the mattress. Relief floods her from head to toe, followed almost immediately by shame, and anger, and a host of confusing emotions warring for dominance against her racing heart. All at once she feels like a child again, exposed and vulnerable. She puts distance between them with a derisive sniff, taking an inordinate amount of time to bundle up in one of his blankets. The black karakul wool is soft against her naked skin, the metal clasp still held tightly in her fist.  

“I’m sorry.” Wounded, he stares at her with inexplicable sorrow. It’s clear that he’s aware he crossed a line, one which—until this moment—he had no idea existed. A painful sigh escapes him as he rubs both hands over his face, the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “It was not my intention to argue with you. Not tonight, of all nights.”

“When I say let go, I mean it. Ye ought to have sense enough for that, if nothin’ else.” She sneaks a peek at him beneath her arm. He looks utterly absurd with only one clasp on his ear, gleaming in the candlelight. What’s even more absurd is the thought that his right ear looks bare, indecently so. There is a faint imprint, a crease in the skin where the clasp had sat for so many years. “Why?” she asks again, softly.

“Is our tenth anniversary not enough of a reason for you?” There’s no real answer to such a question. Perhaps it might have been reason enough, had he not been acting so strangely. Restless all night, fretful and timid and—just now—insistent that she must take it for herself. Even now he seems on the verge of a breakdown, unable to look her in the eyes for more than a moment or two, hands wringing in his lap. “Why must you be difficult?” he asks, voice caught on a high note. “Simply accept my gift and we can be done with it.”

“But I can’t even wear the bloody thing!” she spits, lifting her head from her knees. “Yer a thrice-damned fool of a man if ye think that’ll ever fit on me ear.”  

“It doesn’t necessarily have to,” he huffs, feeding into her impatience. There’s another fight brewing between them already, borne of natural tension and too much nervous energy. Neither of them know what to do with these unwelcome feelings, nor how to handle them… aside from trading verbal blows or  falling to the sheets in a frenzied passion. While she wouldn’t mind being fucked to the point of oblivion, he is very clearly trying to avoid the selfsame outcome. “’Tis not the gift itself that matters, but rather that you accept it.”

“N’ when, exactly, am I t’know just what it is I’m accepting?” She opens her hand, looking down at the lone clasp. The beautiful scrollwork along the edges of the metal catch the light in a pleasing way. “I swear, if this is some sort o’ long-ear marriage proposal—tch! What a joke!” Her cold laugh trails away when, rather than jump to his own defense, he turns his face to the wall. “I-It ain’t, is it?” she squeaks, flinching at the sound of her own voice. “Is it?!”

No answer. He averts his gaze, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Seven hells…” she manages weakly. “Carvallain….”

“Not marriage,” he finally mumbles, lips barely moving. “Not exactly.”

“What, then?”

“When an Elezen offers his love a—that is, in Ishgard, when two souls share a—devotion. It’s meant to be a symbol of devotion.” For a moment, the room itself seems suspended in time. He breaks free of the spell first, reaching imperatively for the clasp in her open palm. “It’s nothing, a whim. Certainly not worth the fuss. You may hand it back now.”  

“I’ll take it.” She maneuvers her hand behind her back, putting herself between the clasp and his insistent fingers. He follows blindly, groping in the blanket’s folds and scowling when he comes up empty-handed. Leaning forward, she gently bumps his forehead with her own. “I said that I’ll take it,” she repeats firmly, gazing steadily into his eyes. Their noses brush and he sighs, the sound warm against her mouth.

“Give it back, please.”

“Not on yer life.” Slowly, so slowly, his brow starts to unknit itself. He glares at her, torn between relief and frustration and something else, something she has no name for. Its echo resonates inside her, twinkling in the depths of her stormy eyes. Without warning he surges forward, his weight collapsing them both to the mattress. He buries his face in the join of her neck and shoulder, arms tangled around her waist. He pulls her flush against him, skin to skin; though he could easily reach the clasp, he does not try to take it from her.

“Bothersome termagant.” Each word is a fluttering kiss. She smooths the hair from his neck, his pulse thrumming beneath her fingers.

“Are ye devoted to me?” she teases, tugging lightly at the tip of his newly-bared ear.

“Utterly.” The word fairly drips with sarcasm. His hands trail down her spine as he works his way from her shoulder to her ear, leaving a trail of blossoming love bites in his wake. When he again speaks, whispering just above the sound of her stilted breath, it takes on an entirely new meaning. “Utterly.” 

Twenty years of gifts, and she’s never given him a single one… until now.

It makes sense, from an outsider’s standpoint. If anyone cared to ask, he would be the one to lecture them on the importance of courtship, of gentlemanly favours, the way to woo a lady of one’s choosing. Although he would pretend it’s as convoluted as the rules of Meracydian chess, in reality it’s quite simple.

He enjoys showering her in gifts.

By now, there’s no way she doesn’t have at least one of every single thing upon the star. Be it books, clothing, trinkets, jewels, silks, treats or weapons: if it can be named, he’s wrapped it in gaudy paper and handed it to her with a flourish. He does not ask for recompense, nor does he seem to mind when she has no gift for him in return. Her reactions are their own reward, leaving him thrilled beyond measure when she shows any sort of excitement over what he’s handpicked for her.

Clearly, he would be perfectly happy continuing the charted course. But she wants him to have something, too. He deserves at least one gift, recompence for years of devotion—though he still balks at the word—and even if he would be happy going without, it is for her own peace of mind as well. It has taken months of scheming to reach this point, plans written in code, gil-greased palms, hasty appointments made during his frequent trips to the East. And now?

Now, she almost wishes she hadn’t kept it a surprise. Perhaps then he might have warned her about the dangers of gift-giving. Sitting across the table from him, hands fisted in her lap, watching him admire the wrapping paper—it’s utterly nerve-wracking! What if he cannot appreciate the care that went into such a gift? What if he doesn’t understand the meaning? What if—gods forbid, what if he laughs at her?

This lack of confidence is… unsettling, to say the least. It’s not something she’s used to at this stage of her life. She has never cared for anyone’s good opinion, least of all his. But if he laughs at her… well, she’ll simply have no choice but to throw herself into the nearest body of water. Perhaps the Navigator, taking pity on her beleaguered soul, would grant her a swift demise.

With bated breath she watches him open the box, carefully prying back the first layers of thin, sky-colored tissue paper. He hesitates when he reaches the vellum lining, recognizing the material, if not its purpose. A questioning smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, brows arching curiously as he turns the box over in his hands. His gaze flits to her and she dares not respond, swallowing back her mounting fear as he unwraps the vellum to reveal her gift.

For what seems like an age, he says nothing at all.

“Well?” she chokes out, prodding him for an answer. Belatedly she realizes that this is how he must have felt that day, years ago, when he gave her the first of many flowers. The latest bouquet is already on display, a centerpiece amidst the remnants of their lavish anniversary dinner. Twenty flowers for twenty years: truly foppish business, a waste of good coin… she can’t help but look forward to them. Carnations, chrysanthemums, star lilies, apple blossoms, salvias and roses in full bloom, gathered from all corners of the globe. Each year, he asks the same question. Do you know what they mean? Each year, he refuses to explain himself.

He lifts the miniature portrait out of its protective vellum, holding it up to the candlelight. Ever so gently, one fingertip strokes the feathery wisps of pale blonde hair scattered across the painted forehead. She stares at her own face, upside down. In the whole of her life, she has never sat for a portrait before now; looking at the finished product, she is still unsure how she feels about it.

She had assumed it would be the equivalent of staring into a looking glass, but that was not the case. The portrait master’s keen eyes had noticed things about herself that she often overlooked: the natural downward slope of her mouth, the dainty shell of her ear, the little crease that formed between her brows, just above her nose. The artist had painted what they saw, rather than what she chose to see. That alone made a world of difference.

The experience had made her uncomfortably conscious of her own appearance. When Carvallain looked at her, did he also happen to see the same petulant, pensive woman? Was the miniature an accurate likeness of everything he knew her to be? She had hoped—foolish as it was—that he might take it with him on his voyages. If he truly missed her as much as he claims, he could look at the portrait and think of her. But was this gesture enough to convey those silent wishes?

A nervous sip of wine soothes her parched throat, and she looks up in time to see him carefully rewrapping the portrait. Each crease was folded with exact precision, the tissue paper arranged over the vellum and the lid firmly pressed to hold it in place. The act itself tells her nothing of his thoughts—he is, at times, both fastidious and exacting. She sits on her hands to keep from wringing them raw, watching from beneath her lashes as he slips from the chair and kneels before her.

“Did… ye like it?” Taking her face in both hands, he kisses her with a glowing tenderness that makes her heart ache.

“I love it,” he murmurs between kisses, thumbs caressing her cheekbones. “Beautiful, priceless, my treasure—” He coaxes a soft moan from her lips before nuzzling into her hair, and she cannot help but melt against his lean frame. Continued endearments rumble in his chest, tickling her fingertips without ever reaching her ears.

In the far recesses of her mind, a notion glimmers just beneath the deceptively calm surface of her thoughts: It ain’t the gift he’s talking about.

“Meddlesome codger.”

He chuckles at the insult: how can he not? Even if it holds a grain of truth, she is shooting herself in the foot. She’s older by several years, and they both know it.

“Badgering crone.” His thumb traces a line from ribcage to hips, catching on an old scar from her heyday. She is no longer captain of the Sirens, having retired the tricorn and given the new leader her blessing. Her days are spent lounging in her usual seat at the Missing Member, ensuring that the tavern’s standard fare doesn’t take a nosedive in her absence.

“Wrinkled old gaffer.” Lazily she lifts her eyes to the thirty-two flowers tucked neatly into a vase behind the flickering gas lamp. Their petals are vibrant, even in the shifting shadows of twilight. Faster and faster, the years seem to fly. How many are left? What number would serve as the bouquet’s final count?

Not that she has plans to roll over and croak, mind. These are her golden years, her well-deserved rest after years of building up one of the finest pirate crews—and finest taverns—in the city-state. In Eorzea, at that. As a young woman, she could not imagine living long enough to see her own retirement. Now, she is looking forward to this new stage of life. Who better to share these years with then the preening bastard who shares her bed?  

“Withered hag.” He rolls over, trapping the quilt between their bodies. Warm lips kiss her forehead, lingering there with a satisfied grin. “I love you.”

Her heart skips a beat in her chest.

“Hmph. Never heard that one before.” Even as she says it, something deep inside her proclaims it to be a falsehood. Not an outright lie, per se, but not true either. Had he not told her as much with every gift? With each additional flower added to the bouquet? All those nights in his arms, the trips to Radz-at-Han, to Kugane… even to Ishgard, if only for the fact that she wished to see it for herself. “Ye ain’t feverish, are ye?”

“Mmm… hot-blooded, perhaps?” He smirks at his own joke. “What say you, old woman: feeling up for a round? For old time’s sake?”

“Round? Round o’ what?” she cackles, and—gods preserve her—it truly does sound rather crone-like. “Round o’ drinks? Duels?”

“Desires?” Over thirty years at her side, and still he remains as smooth and haughty as ever. It’s enough to make her snort aloud, rolling her eyes with a good-natured grin.

“I ought to be asking ye the same, then. Feeling up to it?” she jokes in turn. “Never could keep up with me, even in yer prime.”

“Liar! Should levin strike this bed….” His hand strays further south beneath the quilt, tracing along her thigh before slipping between her legs. “Shall I prove you wrong?” he offers, shifting closer into the waiting cradle of her arms. Like many facets of their relationship, their lovemaking has become something at once both practiced and predictable. That does not making it boring; on the contrary, it has become something of a comfort to them both. A way to connect physically, now that their bodies can no longer keep up with sparring.

“Yer welcome to try.” It’s his turn for derision, the air puffing his cheeks as he shakes his head. The years have thinned his long face, giving once-prominent cheekbones a gaunt air. His joints are bonier, his knees knobbier, but his face still clings to the last vestiges of youth. She has more wrinkles than he’ll ever have, but she loves the way age writes silvery-white threads into his copper locks. He used to pluck them, back when he still cared about such things. Vanity has deep roots; time, it seems, runs far deeper.

“I—” Her breath catches as his fingers awaken the first stirrings of pleasure within her. “Love ye,” she mumbles, feeling her face light up. It sounds awkward and clunky compared to his honest declaration, and yet it’s no less heartfelt. He peppers kisses across her burning cheeks, down her jaw, dragging his nose against her skin. It never fails to make her squirm, chasing his mouth with her own until she captures it with a triumphant smile. He kisses her once, close-lipped and chaste, before resting his forehead against her cheek.

“Happy anniversary, my dear.” 

I only chose flowers that could come in shades of pink/red.

[Red] Chrysanthemum:  I love you Carnation: Fascination Star Lilly: Passion, Commitment Apple Blossom: Preference [Red] Salvia: Forever mine Roses: Love

[jarino]

Ghost Towns: Chapter 13 (Blazing Heart)

Link has a revelation about his feelings for Sidon. Later, he makes his way to Goron City.

AO3 Link

Blearily, Link opened his eyes, letting out a loud yawn. He stretched out his limbs and gave a contented sigh as he snuggled into the bed.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a good night’s rest.

He stayed in bed for a few more minutes before pushing himself to a sitting position. Once his eyes landed on his surroundings, he paused. For a moment, he didn’t recognize where he was or how he got here, but last night’s events quickly came back to him.

A blush began heating up his cheeks and he pulled the blanket over his face.

He’d come running to Sidon for comfort after having a nightmare…and not only had the prince been kind enough to oblige him, but he had offered him his bed to rest in.

Peeking out from behind the covers, Link took a cursory glance of the room.

No Sidon to be found.

He let out a small sigh of relief. It was embarrassing enough knowing he’d slept in Sidon’s bed. He didn’t need to face the prince while his mind was still reeling.

Link lay back down in bed, keeping the blanket over his face. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes.

Sidon had said he didn’t use the bed often, but he must have slept in it recently, for his scent still clung to the sheets.

Link could feel his blush spreading to the tips of his ears. Man, but he had it bad…

He pulled the blanket down far enough that he could barely peek out. The events of last night wouldn’t stop rushing through his head.

Despite how late it had been, Sidon had comforted him without a second thought. He didn’t even pry into what had sent him into such a state. Solemnly, Link frowned.

He didn’t deserve Sidon. He was so kind and thoughtful and perfect…How could he ever compare?

Taking another self-indulgent sniff, Link closed his eyes. He briefly wondered what it might be like to wake up next to Sidon, to stir him awake with gentle kisses, and make him breakfast in bed. Sidon would hold him close, thank him profusely, and nuzzle him into a fit of giggles.

His grip on the sheets tightened and his eyes opened in shock. How had he not realized it before?

He was in love with Sidon.

He wasn’t sure when his feelings had evolved past a simple crush, but there was no denying it. Link loved him. By Hylia, he loved him.

Why were his emotions so cruel?

It wasn’t as if he could act on his feelings, after all. Sidon was a prince and he…was just a disgraced knight. It would never work.

Not to mention…there was Mipha. To this day, Link still hadn’t unlocked any more memories of his time with her. He was fully aware of how she felt about him, but what if he had reciprocated? Wouldn’t it be incredibly cruel for him to abandon her memory in favor of her brother?

He’d already hurt her enough as it was…he didn’t want to cause her spirit any more unnecessary pain.

No, he needed to suppress these feelings. Keep them secret. There was no other option.

Slowly, he managed to get out of bed and prepared to get ready for the day.

As he left Sidon’s room, he kept an eye out for anyone nearby. The last thing he wanted was to start rumors about him leaving the prince’s room so early in the morning.

Luck happened to be on his side, thankfully, and he made his way to the throne room unseen.

Sidon was standing and speaking with his father when he spotted Link.

“Ah, Link! You’re awake!” he called with a smile. He bid his father farewell before trotting over to Link.

“How are you feeling?” he asked at a hushed tone, a mild crease in his brows.

Gulping, Link replied, ‘Better now. Thank you for what you did last night.’

“Oh, it was nothing, my dear friend,” Sidon said quietly. “Truthfully, I wish I could have done more for you.”

‘Just being you is enough,’ Link answered honestly. He scratched the back of his neck self-consciously.

“You are too kind,” Sidon said with a chuckle.

A few moments of silence passed between them before Sidon spoke out again. “Oh, by the way…would you care to have breakfast with me? I’ve been so busy, I haven’t had the chance to eat yet.”

‘Of course.’

“Brilliant!” he exclaimed with a wide grin. “I will go fetch us something from the kitchen!”

In the meantime, Link made his way to the dining room, where he waited for him. Sidon was gone mere minutes before he reappeared with a few trays of food. “Here we are! I grabbed a few pastries, some sausages, and some porridge. Please, eat up!”

Smiling, Link graciously accepted the food. ‘Thank you very much.’

The two ate in silence for a bit before Sidon began speaking again. “Did you sleep well? I didn’t hear you make any noise last night, so I can only hope your rest was peaceful.”

‘It was,’ Link signed, chewing on his pastry.

He didn’t want to admit that Sidon’s presence was likely the reason he’d slept so well.

“Ah, I’m glad to hear it. I will say that bed is rather comfortable; I understand now why hylians use them…Unfortunately, I can’t use it very often, or my scales will dry out,” he said with a chuckle.

Link nodded in understanding, taking another bite of food.

Their meal continued like that, with them conversing every so often as they enjoyed one another’s company. Eventually, they’d cleaned their plates and breakfast was over.

“Thank you for dining with me, Link,” Sidon said happily. “I always enjoy spending time with you.”

Link’s cheeks flushed pink and he nodded quietly. ‘Me, too.’

“What are your plans for the day?” Sidon asked eagerly. “Did you want to spend more time in the Domain?’

He did. He really did. But unfortunately, he was on a schedule. He’d only come here because of the nightmare he had…Now that he was feeling better, he really needed to get back on the road.

Link shook his head. ‘I wish I could. But I have to get to Eldin.’

Sidon let out a small sigh. “Of course, I understand. Should you ever need a break from your journey, please know that our doors are always open.”

Giving a melancholic smile, Link stared at Sidon’s golden eyes. He wished he didn’t have to leave. The Domain had started to feel like home…Anytime he left, he would miss its presence greatly, and especially that of Sidon.

‘I promise I’ll come back as soon as I can.’

“Thank you very much for indulging me, Link,” Sidon said with a self-conscious smile.

They both rose from their seats so they could give each other a proper hug goodbye. They held each other tight, with Link pouring as much affection as he could into their embrace.

Eventually, they parted and with a wry smile, Link pulled out the Sheikah Slate. With his right hand, he signed goodbye before he was whisked away by blue light.

Landing near South Akkala, Link’s shoulders immediately drooped. It had been scant seconds since he’d last seen Sidon and he was already depressed. He let out a deep sigh. Back to the grind…

-----

On his way to Eldin, Link came across another memory of Zelda. In it, she was assisting Link with bandaging himself after a fight. She had appeared concerned, and above all, friendly.

The more memories he found, the more he began to understand her. From what he had seen, the two had a fair bit in common. Both of them had had their destiny thrust upon them and were forced to bear the pressure of saving Hyrule from Ganon. Perhaps…when he saw her again, he could speak to her about it. Perhaps she could help him reconcile his lost memories.

As Link made his way towards Death Mountain, the heat started to become sweltering. He overheard someone speaking about a fire-resistant elixir so he spent the next hour or so chasing fireproof lizards for ingredients.

After he’d cooked up enough elixirs that he was certain he wouldn’t fry to death, he continued up the mountain.

Eventually, he made his way to Goron City. Unfortunately, the heat of the mountain still beat down on him, and he worried he wouldn’t have enough elixirs to carry out his mission here. However, there was an armor shop nearby that carried fireproof gear. And boy, was it ever ugly.

Link really didn’t want to spend his hard-earned rupees on such an eye-sore, but the practicality of it won out in the end and he forced himself to purchase it.

His next order of business was finding the goron leader, who happened to be a man named Bludo. The goron boss filled Link in on the situation with Vah Rudania. The beast had been raining down rocks on the miners, preventing them from getting any work done.

Bludo was in charge of fending off the divine beast, and had assistance from a young goron named Yunobo. Unfortunately, the old man’s back pain was flaring up, and he was currently waiting on Yunobo to return with painkillers. But the young man had yet to return.

Link readily agreed to go search for him, knowing he’d need both of their help to take on Rudania.

After a bit of searching, it appeared that Yunobo was trapped inside a cave-like structure, which had been blocked by rubble. He decided to take advantage of the nearby cannon to clear out the entrance.

When Link made his way over to the cavern, Yunobo glanced his way before freaking out. He ran this way and that, screaming about monsters before he huddled in a ball, shielding his head from a perceived threat.

“Oh, no…” he murmured. “Monsters found me…what do I do?”

Link attempted to sign his introduction, but with the goron facing away from him, he had little luck with communication.

“It’s…o-kay…” Link tried to speak, though his words came out hushed and raspy.

“Hm?” The goron looked up and took notice of him. “Oh, you’re not a monster.”

Link shook his head. ‘I’m Link.’

“H-hi…” he said, holding his hands in front of himself nervously. “I’m Yunobo…Say, are you the one who cleared the rubble, goro?”

Link nodded.

“Thanks for savin’ me, brother. I was in a mighty fine pinch. Hm…what’re you doing here anyway?”

‘Your boss is looking for you. He needs painkillers, I think.’

“Ah, of course, goro!” Yunobo smacked his forehead. “I nearly forgot!”

Yunobo looked like he was about to bolt out the exit. Before he could, Link tried catching his attention.

‘Um…before you go…’

“Hm?”

‘Do you think you could help me get onto Rudania? I need to stop the divine beast.’

“Eh?” Yunobo looked at him in shock. “You mean to tell me you plan to get on that thing?”

‘That’s right.’

“Wow. I wish I was as brave as you…” He kicked his foot against the dirt. “Well…I’ll see what boss says first. I gotta get him these painkillers after all, goro.”

‘Of course.’

Link watched as the goron rolled away. After he was gone, he let out a soft sigh. Just a little longer and he’d free the next divine beast…

He left the cavern, figuring out where he should wait for Yunobo, when his eyes were drawn to the nearby mountain. Huh. It looked like there was a carving of some kind embedded in its side.

Something about the statue was…familiar. He focused his vision on the relief, trying to hone in on the feeling, and that’s when he was hit by another memory.

He was with one of the champions – Daruk, it seemed – and they stood atop Vah Rudania. The two were conversing like normal, when suddenly a heap of boulders came tumbling down on top of them. Daruk protected the pair with his ability, before he began muttering that the mountain was typically quieter.

Daruk looked off into the distance, an ominous expression on his face.

Link was pulled from his memory then, and he was thankful no one was around to see him so lost in his thoughts.

One of his memories of the princess had also shown signs of Calamity Ganon’s approach. If these omens had been as frequent as they seemed to be, Link wondered how they hadn’t been prepared for its revival.

No…that wasn’t fair. Ganon fought dirty. If it hadn’t usurped the ancient Sheikah technology, who knows…maybe they would have had a shot at beating it. But instead, they’d been overwhelmed completely.

Looking up at Vah Rudania, Link steeled his gaze. He’d free Daruk’s spirit. And eventually, put a stop to Ganon once and for all.

[seahdalune]

Seana’s 2020 art highlights (a thread)

(Note: this is a reupload of a thread i did on twitter a few years back. so these are really old.)

January: i didn’t draw anything complete that month.... closest thing i could find to finished is this art i made of my OC, Angelord. man. remember when i drew my OCs? [2023 note: it's..... funny you say that. you would try to start up an original comic for the entirety of next year.... not that it ever came to fruition.]

February: i finished Link’s Awakening that month. i drew Marin bc i thought she was cute. i wish i could get motivated to draw fanart of recent video games i finished more... this is probably the last proper traditional art i made this year... after this, it’s mostly digital.

March: look. i’m attempting anatomy... and i failed lol. i remember being like “how do you draw woman” after drawing this... i mean. i still wanna know how to draw woman, so i guess i haven’t changed lol. [2023 note: I STILL DONT KNOW HOW TO DRAW WOMEN]

April: wait NVM here’s another traditional piece i made this year. he was an adoptable i made... but nobody was interested in them so he’s with me for now. i’ll try and redesign them, either to sell them or to keep him. [2023 note: i never sold this guy.... i was lazy and nobody values points these days. probs for the best because scamming children with virtual coins is probably not a good idea lmao. at the same time, i wish there was an easy way to buy and sell designs+commissions without having to get a credit card or paypal or something.]

May: another month where i didn’t draw anything. buuut i did some plush sketches to reference so das dat. [2023 note: you'll probably be able to name most charas here, but who's the guy i drew the most? that's Matteo, he's a little pink vampire and i made him through Gatcha Life.]

June: ah. the month where i started digital art. this was fanart for my friend’s OC. i didn’t know a lot of features of digital art so it looks like shit LOL not the first digital art i made ever, but it might as well be. [2023 note: i actually received my tablet around 2018, but i never had time to draw on it because i had 1 hour of screentime every day. this restriction was finally lifted in 2020 (because online classes) and i finally had time to venture out into the world of digital art...]

July: i made a lot of stuff this month, but to shorten the list... i finished the plush of my OC, Matteo. i wanna make another plushie... maybe with Suitcase.

this was also the month i joined the OSC... oh hell. it’s been 6 months?? [2023 note: 2 YEARS BITCH. ITS GONNA BE YOUR 3RD ANNIVERSARY if i didn't get so tired and started to hate the community so much.]

August: ...ergh. lets get over with this month quickly... Object OCs this. Object OCs that.

occasional Algebians.

i do not like the art here... it really shows that i’ve improved. ok let’s get outta here. [2023 note: i fucking despise the person who asked me why "they were old" to my humanizations of the Dangos. this is why i refuse to join another public server ever again and might have contributed to the delay of my human drawing skills.]

September: lots of Taco II. i seriously liked her a lot. still do, but the love is a bit more spread out between characters.

oh. and i watched ONE that month. cool.

October: i finally found a style that i could weld. hooyah.

don’t ask why i drew my friend as a cat maid... i thought it was funny ok.

September: the month of gift art. nothing else to say, but i like the thin lines. yes, ‘thin’. ...god i need to think of better things to say. [i would then realize i said the wrong month, and unlike tumblr, i cannot edit tweets once published, so my only option was to delete the whole thing and start over. or just say this:] did i just say September... oh for fucks- no i am not fixing this i’m already tired of this just imagine i said November ok

December: best art of this year so far (doh) nothing to say. just... happy that i improved. can’t wait to improve even more.

[hey look! i was in the 2020 JnJ christmas video! thats me! me!!]

aaand, that’s all for this year! man, i thought i was done with improvement. i can’t believe i proved myself wrong. usually other people do that for me lol. lets see if i can disprove myself again in 2021.