#and to pay tribute to these customs

[almostvermin]

the funniest thing ive ever thought up is the idea that octarians just. dont have biological sexes. like they reproduce with mitosis whats the point

"but flick!" you cry, "we have octarians with gender! what gives?" we know inklings consider human gender entirely a fashion statement, i.e. you look so boy today! very fresh. whos to say its not the same for octarians?

but no my thought was what if octarian gender depends on job.like, certain roles are male-alligened, ect. octavio gets to be a guy hes a dick-tator. duh. the military octarians we fight, plus canon!eight, ect, are girls. lower sentience octarians are referred to with it/its by craig, who from his homoerotic situationship, obviously knows octarian gender customs and is being respectful while forcing children to commit genocide. the one from gold bazookas is a trumpet player which is clearly a fem-alligned job, but the fact its brass means shes butch. hirooo plays anarchy for a living which is obviously masc. shiver and acht are criminals of course theyre nonbinary, but shiver also uses she/her on stage because being a fugitive of the state isnt integral to their music (which as aformentioned is a fem job) as criminality is to acht's, who only uses they/them. this also explains the fuck-up made by presumably a new fan who wasnt aware of achts links to the criminal world. marina is a warfare engineer turned fugitive turned dj, so she used she/her in all the time we knew her but was clearly non binary at some point in the middle

does this make sense

[eyenaku]

wip - is gonna b like a colombian death/burial mask combined w filipino sun motifs 👍🏼👍🏼 (for my honours exhibition next year) RARHHHHH 🇵🇭🇨🇴🇵🇭🇨🇴🇵🇭🇨🇴🇵🇭🇨🇴🇵🇭🇨🇴

[hot-witchy-wife]

Cashapp $Kinkerbelle323 dm for requests

[theonion]

Paying tribute to the brave men and women on the frontlines, Aetna president and CEO Larry Merlo released a statement Tuesday honoring his courageous employees who continue to seek and collect insurance debt from customers “proudly and by any means necessary” in this difficult time. “Our nation owes a great deal of respect and gratitude to these medical debt workers who have stepped up and remained fully committed to collecting every penny owed to our close-knit community of executives, investors, and brokers during this span of unprecedented emotional and financial difficulty and distress,” said the comfortably sequestered multimillionaire in charge of not only Aetna but also its parent company, CVS Health, saluting the “red-blooded American heroes” working day and night to shake down valued Aetna family members until they cough up their payments. Full Story

[reasonsforhope]

"South Carolina is preparing to put up its first individual statue for an African American on its Statehouse lawn, honoring a man who put on Confederate clothes in order to steal a slaveholder’s ship and sail his family and a dozen others to freedom during the Civil War.

But Robert Smalls isn’t just being honored for his audacious escape. He spent a decade in the US House, helped rewrite South Carolina’s constitution to allow Black men equality after the Civil War and then put up a valiant but doomed fight when racists returned to power and eliminated nearly all of the gains Smalls fought for.

State Rep. Jermaine Johnson can’t wait to bring his children to the Statehouse to finally see someone who is Black like them being honored.

“The man has done so many great things, it’s just a travesty he has not been honored until now. Heck, it’s also a travesty there isn’t some big Hollywood movie out there about his life,” said Johnson, a Democrat from a district just a few miles from the Statehouse.

The idea for a statue to Smalls has been percolating for years. But there was always quiet opposition preventing a bill from getting a hearing. That changed in 2024 as the proposal made it unanimously through the state House and Senate on the back of Republican Rep. Brandon Cox of Goose Creek.

“South Carolina is a great state. We’ve got a lot of history, good and bad. This is our good history,” Cox said.

What will the Robert Smalls memorial look like?

The bill created a special committee that has until January 15 to come up with a design, a location on the Statehouse lawn and the money to pay for whatever memorial they choose.

But supporters face a challenging question: What best honors Smalls?

If it’s just one statue, is it best to honor the steel-nerved ship pilot who waited for all the white crew to leave, then mimicked hand signals and whistle toots to get through Confederate checkpoints, while hoping Confederate soldiers didn’t notice a Black man under the hat in the pale moonlight in May 1862?

Or would a more fitting tribute to Smalls be to recognize the statesman who served in the South Carolina House and Senate and the US House after the Civil War? Smalls bought his master’s house in Beaufort in part with money made for turning the Confederate ship over to Union forces, then allowed the man’s penniless wife to live there when she was widowed.

Or is the elder Smalls who fought for education for all and to keep the gains African Americans made during the Civil War the man most worth publicly memorializing? Smalls would see a new constitution in 1895 wipe out African Americans’ right to vote. He was fired from his federal customs collector job in 1913 when then President Woodrow Wilson purged a large number of Black men out of government jobs.

Or would it be best to combine them all in some way? That’s how Republican Rep. Chip Campsen, an occasional ship pilot himself, sees honoring one of his favorite South Carolinians.

“The best way to sum up Robert Smalls’ life is it was a fight for freedom as a slave, as a pilot and as a statesman,” Campsen said."

-via AP, Octtober 23, 2024

[aisquaredchoco]

Sooo..The Sims 3 turned 15 today. As one of the simmers who stayed in playing and creating for the game, I would like to pay tribute to one of its most groundbreaking features...the Create-A-Style tool. I love using this tool to death, that's why I stayed and never left.

What I love about CASt is that it pushes creative freedom among players. With a single type of furniture or clothing you can easily change the ambience by playing around the different patterns the game already has plus a lot of awesome custom patterns lying around the web (shoutout to the pattern creators, you all rock! 🤘). It changed the way I think about 'recolors' because the power already lies in your hands and imagination, and the possibilities are endless..

Long live CASt, long live TS3!

(individual hq pictures under the cut)

[funstealer]

Obelisk 00s Reptile Embossed Flared Denim

'Japanese brand Obelisk, founded in 2001 by designer Kaneko, began with his quest for better-fitting motorcycle pants. Frustrated with store-bought options, the avid Harley rider used his leather bag design skills to craft his own, sparking the creation of Obelisk. The brand’s clothing, influenced by themes of rebellion and freedom, pays tribute to the strength of the human spirit and rock musicians, reflecting Kaneko’s passions.

These early 2000s flared denim jeans feature reptile embossed cowhide detailing wrapping around the front and back pockets and finished with custom brass hardware.' via firstfinal.store

[thewritetofreespeech]

pleeease do the wedding headcanons for bg3!! can you do all the main boys (and maybe ascended astarion??) 💍

Gale

Gale does try to subtly warn you that it will be a big wedding, with the Dekarios Clan far & wide, but you hadn’t realized how big.

Cousins, uncles, aunts, friends of the family, friends of friends of the family all come to attend. To the point that you can’t have sides at the wedding as the groom’s side would swell over the other. So you choose to have no sides.

Gale’s mother is head of the clan and officiates the wedding. Utterly beguiled by you and the happiness you bring to her son. And a day she thought would never come while he was intwined with a goddess.

Tara acts as ring bearer. A title she is at first insulted about but then refuses to give up. No take backs.

They will have to transmute another wing onto the tower for all the presents. Gale blushes & stammers at other well wishes of having children right away. He’s not against it but he wants to have you to himself a little while longer.

Wyll

Given his background that I made up and also his rank in society as the eldest son of Ravengard, it was probably always an expectation of Wyll’s to get married. Family lines and all that.

Even when his life was in shambles, deep down he always believed that he would one day be free, get married, and have children with his partner.

It would be a very traditional wedding, with military aspects given his link to the Flamming Fists. This includes uniforms, sword arches, etc.

He cares very little for the formality but takes great pains to follow the traditions.

Wyll is much more interested in the reception. To dance with you who is finally all his, makes nearly ending with the world almost worth it.

Astarion

He’s surprised you want to get married and have a proper wedding. Can you just be continuing on as you are? Together because you want to be, not because you have to be. Astarion also doesn’t like…labels.

But, if it’s what you want, he supposes it wouldn’t be the end of the world. It’s just a big party at the end of the day, right? He likes parties.

It’s an intimate little affair with all your core friends come to join you. You couldn’t possibly have everyone you helped or made acquaintance with at the wedding. Astarion insists on keeping it small as you’ll never financially recover from all the ale you would need for that.

Makes his partners outfit and his own. Something matching, but not on the nose. More of a photo negative matching set. With no red. He doesn’t want to think about blood or the past today.

After it’s all said and done, Astarion can see what all the fuss might be about. To tell everyone you’re his. To tell everyone that you’ve chosen him. To have a symbol of that for all time. He’s glad you made him go through it.

Ascended!Astarion

Why? You’re already his. A piece of paper or foolish mortal ceremony is pointless when you have eternity together as Ascended and consort.

But….there are advantages to a wedding. Nobility and the merchant class of all Baldur’s Gate, not to mention powerful allies from afar, striding in like obedient lambs into his castle to pay tribute to the two of you. That is something he can get behind.

He has the grand ballroom flooded with night orchids, casablanca lilies, and any other night blooming flower he can think of. Just because they have to have the ceremony at night doesn’t mean that he’ll have your wedding be dull and dingy, devoid of color.

A costume change couple as there is an outfit for the ceremony, the reception, first dance, and departure. All custom made with the finest materials available. The kind of craftsmanship that takes 7 seamstresses 7 days & nights to finish on time. But it’s worth it.

Astarion would dance you around the ballroom. As if you were the only two in the room. Floating on air. He’s completely lost interest in his schemes and guests with you in his arms. He’ll come back to them later but they aren’t important when you’re with him.

Halsin

Never believed in marriage or weddings. Binding another person to another with words seemed unnatural to him. People are free to come & go as they please.

But, he also never considered himself a monogamist until he met you. His heart shifting from more of the bear into the wolf. Do not wolves bite and mark their mates like they might do with rings?

It would be a very small wedding. And by small he means just the two of you.

Together in a forest, under Oakfather’s gaze, using a traditional hand binding of the druids with crowns of flowers and simple garb, you make your pledge.

He would want to consummate your marriage immediately. Right there under your marriage tree; if you let him. He could be persuaded to at least wait until you’re back at your home, but it better be a short walk. Otherwise he makes no promises.

[blueiscoool]

Greece Returns 1,055 Ancient Coins to Turkey

Greece on Thursday returned a hoard of over 1,000 stolen ancient coins to Turkey in the first repatriation of its kind between the historic rivals and neighbors, Agence France-Presse reported.

The move came a few months after Turkey publicly supported Greece in its long quest to reclaim the Parthenon Marbles from the British Museum in London.

Greek Culture Minister Lina Mendoni said the hoard of 1,055 silver coins had been seized by Greek customs guards on the border with Turkey in 2019.

“These coins had been illegally imported,” Mendoni said at a ceremony at the Numismatic Museum, which specializes in currency and medal collections, in Athens.

Greeks are “particularly sensitive” to repatriation issues, she said.

“All illegally exported antiquities from whichever country should return to their country of origin,” Mendoni added.

Turkish Culture Minister Mehmet Nuri Ersoy said the operation was the first repatriation from Greece.

Greek and Turkish experts determined that the coins were part of a stock hidden in Asia Minor between the late 5th and early 4th century BCE, she added.

While research is ongoing, it is possible the hoard was secreted in modern-day Turkey during the Persian Wars expeditions of Athenian general Cimon, a veteran of the 480 BCE Battle of Salamis, she added.

Broadly used

Most of the cache were tetradrachms — ancient large silver coins — originally minted in Athens and used broadly in the eastern Mediterranean, said Museum Numismatologist Vassiliki Stefanaki, a coinage expert.

Stamped with the image of an owl, the Athenian relics were also used locally to pay tribute to the Persian Empire, and Persian governors used them to reward their troops, she said.

Other coins came from Cyprus, the islands of Aegina and Milos, from Asia Minor cities founded by Greek settlers, the Iron Age kingdom of Lydia, and Phoenicia in modern-day Lebanon, officials said.

Mendoni on Thursday also thanked Turkey for supporting Greece’s campaign to secure the return of the Parthenon Marbles from London.

The British Museum has long maintained that the Marbles were removed from the Acropolis in Athens by royal decree granted to Lord Elgin, the British ambassador to the Ottoman Empire.

But in June, Zeynep Boz, the head of the Turkish Culture Ministry’s anti-smuggling committee, told a UNESCO meeting in Paris that no such document had been found in Ottoman archives.

Her statement was “decisive” in favor of Greece’s position, Mendoni said Thursday.

Ersoy through a translator said Turkey wanted “with all its heart” to see the Marbles return to Athens.

“The Greek people should have them, they belong to them,” he said.

Boz, who attended Thursday’s ceremony in Athens, told Agence France-Presse that the timing of the coins’ return by Greece was not related to her report in June.

The five-year delay was caused by the time required by the Greek justice system to authorize the coins’ repatriation, she said.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monster Hunt: Nanny Knockthrice

A series of chilling disappearances has brought your party to the edge of the mist-haunted Greyspear Forest, as well as face to face with an enemy as ancient and enduring as the stones beneath your feet

Spoken of only in hushed voices, those who live on the edge of the wood tell of a terrible figure, cruel as the harshest winter, bent with age and the weight of the bulging sack she carries. They know no name for her besides the one handed down from elders, and that she appears at the door to each homestead once a year on the same moonless night to knock three times. Terrible fates are said to befall those who answer, so the locals keep to a tradition known as Opfernoct: laying out gifts for their unwelcome guest, keeping their homes dark and quiet until dawn.

Adventure Hooks:

The party venture into the village only to see one of the nearby houses with its roof partially torn off. Asking questions results in flimsy excuses and reproachful looks from strangers, until the truth comes out: A bookish boy named Verner was apparently snatched out of his home on the recent Opfernoct having snuck a candle to read in bed. His parents, who got the boy the book for his birthday have been shamed for not keeping a better leash on their child and kept from talking to the meddlesome party for fear their actions would bring even further reprocussions.

After impressing the local nobles with their adventurous antics, the party are invited to the marquess’s hunting lodge, an event sure to be filled with revelry and rife with opportunities to court both patronage and attractive strangers. Flouting local customs, the marquis has decided to keep her estate lit through ….  Ensuring the party will go on without interruption.  What a surprise then when a thunderous knock sounds at the door, only for a giant arm to shove through the entryway and snatch up a gaggle of guests (some the party despise, some they were quite getting on with) and drag them off into the night.

Recommended Reading: Check out my write up connecting giants & the feywild, which this draws heavily from.

Background: The legend of Nanny Knockthrice begins when the first woodsman sought to make a home within the boundaries of the primeval forest. The moment his axe had sunk into the trunk of a tree, an old woman stepped from the woods and demanded that a price be paid, for these were her lands and her trees, and the woodsman . The woodsman replied that he had nothing to pay the old woman with save the tools of his trade and the clothes on his back, and he would surely die without either. If she could defer payment for a year, until his labour had built his house and filled his larder, he'd gladly let her take her pick of rewards then. The old woman assented, vanishing into the forest just as soon as she'd appeared. Like any deal with the fey the weight of the bargain could not be understood until the woman returned a year later to take her pick of what the woodsman had filled his home with over the past year... snapping his new wife off the threshhold when she came to answer the door.

Challenges & Complications:

More than just her size, impossible strength, or her ability to fade in and out of the mist, the greatest threat Nanny Knockthrice presents is that she takes hostages and is not above using them as bargaining chips against meddling heroes. She will break the limbs of her victims in full view of the party to warn them against interfering, or lob them into freezing water to slow down her pursuers. When threats fail, it's time to open her bag of tricks, which can contain anything from a raging storm, captured feywild beasts, or even the animated bones of her previous tributes. She's liable to use these surprises in between uprooting entire pine trees to use as clubs, or throwing heroes like walnuts into the next valley over.

Stalking Knockthrice may prove the better option of rescuing her victims, but will require the party to venture into the feywild, passing through a veil of mist to a wilderness even more wild and foreboding than they left behind. Getting back might likewise prove an issue, and may require them to strike their own deal with a powerful fey to get home

Nanny's lair is a tumbledown stone cottage the size of a fortress known as the keening keep. Built into the top and side of a clearcut hillstead, it surveys the surrounding woodland like an owl looking for prey. The keep originally belonged to a tribe of batlike fey known as the gloamwing courterie, who now reluctantly act as the giant's servants after their forebearer swore an inverse deal to the woodsman: letting her store her tribute in their keep for a year save for the one night she must heap it on her back and wander the mortal world. While some gloamwings are loyal to Nanny, others resent being banished to the rafters of their ancesteral home, or having to share the darkened corners with all the morose mortals Knockthrice keeps like maltreated pets. The party may be able to strike a deal, keeping in mind the bats are all as sinister as any unseelie fae and might betray them at any point just to keep things interesting.

If the party pays attention when stories are shared around the fire, they might notice a loophole in the deal struck by the woodsman: namely that Knockthrice was not allowed to take either his tools, or his clothes. In the way of fairytales, tricking the giant into accepting either of these will break the cure, though the party might need to be clever about it. The woodsman's clothes are buried with him out back of the ruins of the cabin the party will keep stumbling across in their feywild wanderings. His axe was handed down to his extended family after he died of heartbreak, and could be anywhere by now... such as hanging over the mantle of a noble's hunting lodge, buried in an innocuous tree, or in the back of a creepy peddler's cart.

Art

[bikebound]

Today on BikeBound.com: Giant-Slayer: 500cc Yamaha RD350 YPVS by @boltmotorcompany, built from a two-box basket case: “The client…wanted an old-school race-customer version, paying tribute to the Yamaha 500s from the glorious 2-stroke years, and more specifically to Wayne Rainey.” Highlights include Yamaha R6 front end / swingarm / wheels, Brembo brakes, modern electronics and lighting, custom bodywork and paint, and what they call the main course: a fully rebuilt engine with a 500cc big-bore kit! Photos: Mario Rodrigo Martín. Head to ⚡️BikeBound.com⚡️ for the full story on this giant-killing two-stroker. ——— #yamahard #yamahard350 #rd350 #rd350lc #rd350ypvs #rz350 #rd500 #rz500 #2stroke #2t #2strokes #2tak #2taklovers #2tempos #2tempi #2temps #waynerainey #yamaha #500cc #restomod #caferacer #caferacers #custombike #bikeporn #custommotorcycle #motoporn #bikebound via Instagram https://instagr.am/p/DBoNr1xuNV5/

[moineauz]

A ticket for The Brighter Side Of Spring

Dan Feng x gn!Reader (platonic if you may 🙏)

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ THE HOUSE OF MUSICA PRESENTS... 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐍 ノ𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — dan feng !

synopsis: friends that lead back to each other, again and again in other words: you form an unlikely friendship

side comments: fun fact i've never written for dan feng before so please give me grace! I'm glad to get this out of my drafts hehe

extra: fluff & subtle angst, high cloud quintet is mentioned, gn reader, platonic word count: 1,860

The lives of long-life species possessed their own elusive nature. It humoured you how an adolescent could be your mother. Or how an adult remained blithe and buoyant despite taking as many breaths as your bygone ancestors who wandered distant stars.

You were similar to a weed dwelling between the crevices of the Xianzhou Lofu: an unassuming and unpretentious merchant who cracked dull rocks until its sheltered gemstones glistened in the Xianzhou's morning light. A lifestyle grown and bred into the tangled veins of your arm.

When streets cleared and day melted into the sober tunes of the night: you ran your hands on the walls of Xianzhou buildings and allowed yourself to hum or succumb to the dreaded sensations of stillness. Perhaps becoming a branch for birds to sit on briefly before departing anew, never lingering longer than they desire.

There was no loneliness like there's, no stillness too void or cramp. Hence, despite all your years of solitary travel, the toils of the universe never prepared you for the inner liberality of companionship and the ardour that washed against your bare feet: a tide that clings onto the shore. Sand tucked between your toes in remembrance.

You knew every corridor and tucked away street on the Xianzhou. You knew where the birds came to nurse their young in the spring. You knew where the cheapest tea house was, and you knew where the High Cloud Quintet enjoyed a glass together.

You have observed them. Learned their jokes and playful banter that emerged beneath each victorious battle and spar. You learned who speaks in silence and who blossoms when they wrap their fingers around the hilt of their sword.

Soon, you began to stifle your laughter when the wisps of their jokes reached your ears. Forever wondering who would ever win against Sword Champion Jingliu.

It became a subconscious habit to journey astray from your usual path to pay an unasked tribute to the spirited group of five. Their affable smiles drew tender circles around your heart and gave you the charm of luck. It was a foreign sensation and a craving to observe their lives out of naive curiosity.

If your life as a merchant was a display of various colours blended together, then the lives of the High Cloud Quintet were shape and form, a glowing spark atop the canvas of your indefinite indecision and vagueness. They were magnetic and undeniable, the focus or subject. They brought definition- meaning- to the strange painting of your mundane and quiet life.

It was a pause from the familiar: a fraction of time in which genuine excitement would wrestle with your spent soul and win every time. It was like watching a saga of friends- not soldiers or comrades- you believed would never depart.

There was a peculiar warmth in watching that.

It was one similarly dull afternoon that day; the clouds dancing in puffs and the occasional starskiff racing across the horizon, leaving trails of circular patterns in the sky. Business resumed and paused like a video; breathing and exhaling before grazing against the sky in limbo.

Various stones were on display that day, begging to remain on your stand a minute longer. Other trinkets seemed to accept their tedious fate; the cycle trudging onwards.

At that moment, under the gaze of an autumn breeze, you received a different customer.

Despite aimlessly gazing into the throng for half an hour, you did not notice his figure gliding towards your stand, or how the throng parted like a sea in his presence: similar to the myths you've overheard amongst fruit stands and scholars. You failed to notice the sway of his dignified sleeves and the slight ruffle of his collar against his placid skin. Even the distinct ornament- his earring- was another passing colour in the blurry field of many.

"Is there any item you would suggest?"

His voice is low and taut: the kind that orders the tides to turn and the rivers to bend. It startles you despite hearing it month after month, like a song whose lyrics brush against the walls of your mind. His expression is plain yet the streak of red found by the corners of his eyes creates an inexplicable contrast.

High Elder Dan Feng stood before your stand; washing over you like the fickle image of the moon on the water.

"Well..." you hesitated, searching for your words while attempting to recover from your initial daze, "If you're looking for something pleasing to the eyes then I suggest this." You gingerly lift a glimmering stone to light, its shifting hues bewitching.

Dan Feng nods as he does to the Sword Artisan- Yingxing- when indicating for him to continue. Yet, his expression displays indifference. Hence, your finger twitched and an inkling of irritation shoots through your body. Nevertheless, you bite the insides of your cheeks and maintain the facade: he was another customer amongst the thousands of others. His face and words will fade away with memory and time.

'Don't think of him any differently', you urged yourself.

"Not all treasures have to be that of stone," you muse, switching that mask of your voice into one of rehearsed enthusiasm, "This here is a unique construction of coral from various oceans across star systems," you bring the piece forward, "An abstract piece of art retaining the stories of thousands of seas."

Dan Feng's eyes trace over the ridges of the coral and the colour it illuminates. He seems interested- you note- ease gradually returning to your body.

No matter how often you bid the group of five a silent hello, you had only peeled the outer layers. Thus, the position and prowess they possessed still struck you down. Especially Dan Feng's.

It occurred to you- in all of your raw naiveness- that despite the laughter which rumbled alive in your chest and the genuine fondness you shared for the group, they were still living legends and you a mere merchant.

Dan Feng gazes up from the coral and back to you. "What would you purchase?

"Me?" you reply perplexed. You occasionally received that question. However, you learned customers inquired out of courtesy. The people of the Xianzhou Lofu possessed their own preferences, hence, your insights ultimately held no merit.

Your eyes scan over the various array of stones and jewels, art pieces and items whose sole purpose was to be vain. It has occurred to you to withhold an item. However, if a peculiar item ever spoke to you, then the likelihood of it speaking to another was higher.

Dan Feng crossed his arms; awaiting your response to which you possessed none. His gaze was condemning and acute, like a spotlight that now landed on you.

Dan Feng then spoke, "You're a wandering merchant, yes?"

You nod tentatively, observing him trace his fingers over the arch of a wooden bowl.

"Then surely, amongst all the sights and treasures you've seen, there must be at least one you find pleasing?"

At that moment, it struck you how right he was.

High Elder Dan Feng seldom spoke unless necessary. He bewildered you with the ambiguity of his gestures and the implicit tenderness found at the tip of his spear. Dan Feng resembled a bird: no loneliness like there's, no stillness too void or cramp.

You take in the crisp afternoon air; running your thumb over the crevices of your hand as the words fall out of your mouth like a cool stream, "You're right. There is... one item in particular."

Dan Feng watches you: your hands moving under the stand. "I've been quite selfish," he hears your remark, the item coming out into the light, "It's rather small but special."

Dan Feng raises an eyebrow at the peculiar item nestled into the palms of your hands. Yet, he merely nods.

Then he's gone.

Dan Feng never intended to visit your stand that day.

Or the following months afterwards.

It becomes habitual: like an instinct that can't shake or an itch that can't be satisfied.

It opposed his very nature- Jingliu and Jing Yuan now teased him at every given chance.

"Oh? I suppose High Elder Dan Feng can have friends."

Soon, Dan Feng's presence wove into the seams of the everyday. The merchant district and the other merchants themselves no longer gaped or whispered.

Dan Feng weaved through the crowds, his legs taking him farther than his heart could ever reach: an odd enigma, an acquaintance found in the eye of a shared storm.

"What brings you here today High Elder?" you ask, a smile dancing on the corners of your lips, "I'm afraid I have nothing new in stock."

"Same as last week?" he conceded, his arms crossed over his chest, "A shame."

You scoff, resting your elbows on the stand's smooth surface. "Really? You never buy anything even if I have new items."

"Perhaps something has caught my eye," he replies indifferently, his eyes aimlessly examining the items before him.

"Oh? Please tell."

Dan Feng sighs, shaking his head, weary admits the beaming sun and cloudless sky.

"The denizens of abundance again?"

Dan Feng remains silent, observing the furrow in your eyebrows and the lines of fatigue littering your face. He recalls where your smile ends and starts like the line of the horizon. He knows where the pensive frown on your face dips like the sea churning away.

"You know what? Let's go somewhere."

"Pardon me?"

You chuckle, "You heard me, let go somewhere else." You promptly pack your stand, "We can go somewhere more... quiet."

Dan Feng's heart drops, he reaches for your hand, but, quickly retracts it. "Why?" he asks abruptly, the word escaping him.

"Why?" you remark bewildered.

Silence fills the gap between his words and yours. A lump forms in the back of your throat, weighing you down- reminiscent of times before.

"Well," you being pensive, eyes fixed onto the birds in the distance before focusing on Dan Feng, "That's what friends are for."

You were similar to a weed dwelling between the crevices of the Xianzhou Lofu: an unassuming and unpretentious merchant who opened your apartment door- bewildered and evidently dazed from a night's sleep- to a small box found at your doorstep. The box's shine is subtle and wise while it carries the scent of the sea: a promise unearthed from the rubble.

You crouch down, turning your head left and right before gingerly placing the small box in your hands. Careful not to disturb its tender tranquillity.

Gradually, you lift the lid as the Xianshou's rising sun pressed against its warmth against the cool surface of your cheek: humble like a prayer, bidding you a silent 'good morning'.

Your eyes widen as the object gazes at you, its surface smooth and velvet.

Then you see a note and a bag of Strale:

Don't give it back or sell it. I did buy it from you after all. Thus, it is yours now, you're not selfish for wanting your own treasures.

That's what friends are for.

— Dan Feng, your friend

You tuck the small wooden bird into your pocket, the letter firmly pressed against your beating heart.

masterlist.

[hot-witchy-wife]

Do you want more? Dm for a menu

[dark-frosted-heart]

The Beast's User Manual - Clavis (His POV)

CLAVIS YOU ABSOLUTE CUTIE

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

In front of my fiancee, I’ve  always considered myself to be an elegant, magnificent, joyful, and loving gentleman.

If Emma feels even an ounce of unhappiness, it’s the loving gentleman’s disgrace—

I plan to keep working hard at it every day.

--

(It’s that time already…)

I’ve been holed up in my room dealing with documents for several hours already—

After the usual breakfast with Emma, briefing with servants, waking Chevalier up, time slipped away as I got to work. 

As I moved to relax my body, which had become stiff after sitting in a chair for so long, a wave of sleepiness hit me.

(Perhaps I’ve been pushing myself to hard lately)

(It’s been a fruitful time, but I still haven’t gotten enough sleep)

(I have a meeting later…I can afford a short break)

I stumbled over to the sofa and sat down, sensing that I’m at my limit with the yawn I let out.

I removed my ascot tie, loosened my collar, and lied down.

(Still, the situation’s calmed down considerably…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Clavis: Several jewelry dealers are scheduled to have dinner with us today. We’re having a small party, but what do you think will happen when we show off our love?

Emma: I think you can get the message across without having to show off.

Clavis: Yes, they’ll definitely pay us tribute. At any rate, the purpose of the company’s for me to arrange export destinations. I wonder how much jewelry will be collected to gain my favor. I’ll arrange a deal with the one whose jewelry best suits your taste as an honor to the winner.

~~ Flashback End ~~

Originally, the party with the jewelers was a strategy for Emma to gain footing.

(Jewelers' customers are mainly nobles…) 

(The information they see and hear spreads among other nobles)

(The more favor shown, the better the nobles’ attitudes toward Emma will be)

(Nothing wrong with taking measures)

(I also wanted to use that as an excuse to show off my cute fiancee)

~~ Flashback ~~

Merchant: I’ve heard rumors, but it looks like the real deal, Your Highness.

Clavis: Yes. Go home with that image of our wonderful bond seared into your memory.

Merchant: As you say. However, Your Highness must have a lot on your mind…

Clavis: Oh, what sharp ears you have?

Merchant: In our line of work, you’ll need to be well-informed or you’ll miss out on huge profits. His highness comes from a prestigious line that has served the Michel family for generations… I’ve heard that the head of the family is making some kind of move.

Clavis: What, it’s just some stubborn old man trying to play games with me. However, it’s not my intention for my fiancee to hear about this.

Merchant: Of course I’m aware of that. There’s already been rumors going around about Your Highness and the head of the family… People always want fresh rumors. I’ll do my small part to help. This is not just a quarrel between Your Highness and the head of the family… The huge profits coming from paying tribute to Lady Emma are what we merchants are after.

Clavis: Haha, you’re very competent. I also like to choose my business partners carefully, but I think I can work well with you. Can I expect great things…?

~~ End flashback ~~

(That party went well. Doesn’t look like Emma noticed anything was amiss)

(After all, there’s always troubling rumors when it comes to women related to royalty…)

(I can’t forgive such rumors that would wipe Emma’s smile away)

~~ Flashback ~~

Emma: Mhmm…All these sweets are just to my taste!

Emma: Their signature “Rabbit and Leopard love explosion cake” in particular is the tastiest…

Clavis: I see, I see. It was worth asking the owner for some privileges as an investor.

Emma: Ah, so it was Clavis’ idea after all.

Clavis: Haha. I didn’t think you’d notice. Your power of love never ceases to amaze me.

Emma: You’re just easy to understand. Hehe…I’m really fortunate.

Clavis: Hm?

Emma: With you, there’s always something going on every day, but I’ve never felt unhappy. Thank you always, Clavis.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(It’s my duty to protect that smile…)

(Both as a gentleman and as her fiance. I don’t want to be a useless man that causes her trouble)

Suddenly, my eyes landed on a rabbit plushie I had left on the table.

With this I could use as a substitute for Emma for when she’s not by my side.

I reached out for the rabbit and hugged it close as I fell asleep.

I’d be dead if anyone were to see me like this, but this room’s a safe space protected by a lock and key.

(Emma…)

(I wonder if you still feel fortunate at this moment…)

(...)

(...)

(...Mn…)

???: -vis…

(Wha…I think I hear…something)

(No…I’m still half asleep)

(Is it time…for the meeting already?)

(But…the bell hasn’t rung yet…)

Clavis: Nn…It’s not…time yet…

(I’ve been pulling a lot of all-nighters…lately…)

(Outside the rumors and the investments…there’s still more to do…)

(And…huh…)

(...)

Clavis: *yawn* I’m…sleepy…I’ve had enough, good night…

(I don’t want to…wake up…)

(...)

(...Mn…)

(That…scent…)

(Smells like Emma…)

(If…)

(If anyone could enter this room…it’d be Emma…)

(...)

(?!)

It took only a moment for me to wake up from my nap.

When I opened my eyes, I saw Emma right there, smiling at me.

Clavis: …

Emma: G-good morning…

Clavis: …

Emma: Are you still half asleep?

The moment I realized what was going on, I got to my feet.

I hurriedly grabbed my ascot tie hanging on the back of the couch and composed myself as I tied it.

(Damn it, I’m such an idiot…)

(I gave Emma the key to my room)

(If Cyril came calling for me and I didn’t respond, then he would’ve asked Emma for help…)

I casually stuff the rabbit into a corner of the sofa.

Clavis: Emma…

Emma: Yes?

Clavis: What did you see?

Emma: Your sleeping face.

Clavis: Did I say anything strange?

Emma: You said something cute.

Clavis: …I see …

I couldn’t put on my usual smile and hid my face with a hand.

(I talked in my sleep, and she probably saw the rabbit too…)

(...I feel like dying)

Somehow, my face felt hot enough to boil water.

Emma: Are you, by any chance, embarrassed?

Clavis: Haha, there’s no way. It’s just that, you know… Yes, I thought it strange for you to sneak into my room without permission.

Emma: Hehe…You prank me often.

I thought I’d return the favor.

Clavis: I see…you got me

(I never thought someone would try to get revenge at this point…)

(My cool front’s now ruined, isn’t it?)

(Does she think I’m cute or something…? It’s okay, really)

When the heat somewhat subsided, I removed my hand from my face.

Emma’s eyes weren’t filled with disappointmentーThey were sparkling.

Emma: And it’s my dream to become a Clavis master.

Clavis: Hm? What’s with that amusing title?

Emma: It’s a title reserved for those that you know ins and outs, and can hold the reins.

It was a great learning experience today to see Clavis after you woke up from your nap.

Clavis: …

(If you say so, then you’ve already become a master)

(Because you’re the only one that has me completely wrapped around your finger)

Emma: By the way, Clavis. Here.

Emma pointed at a spot above my ear and I quickly smoothed that spot down.

I felt the bounciness of my bedhead and wanted to jump into a hole.

Emma’s shoulders shake and she looks down as if she couldn’t hold back anymore.

(Well if Emma’s enjoying herself then it’s not so badー)

(ーNOT. I need to fix this as soon as possible)

Clavis: That’s a good attitude, my dear fiancee. I like your courage to prank me as part of your journey to becoming a master.

However…

I grabbed her hand and sat her on the sofa before pinning her down.

In the same way, I’ve mastered Emma.

I think about her all hours of the day.

In this case…I could think of one or two tricks.

Clavis: You should be more careful.

It’s too naive to be satisfied with a prank. You have to expect payback.

I kissed Emma’s forehead before sliding my lips down to her cheek and then jaw, turning her face a bright red.

(Good…)

Continuing my attack, I placed a hand on her smooth leg and let it crawl upward.

I fiddled with her skirt, which had hiked up from me pushing her down.

Emma: C-Clavis…It’s almost time for the meeting!

Clavis: I know.

Emma: But your hands are still wandering…!

Clavis: Thanks to you, I woke up ahead of schedule. I have plenty of time to tease you.

(If I want to call myself an elegant, magnificent, joyful, and loving gentleman, I’ll need to forget what just happened)

Any protest is silenced by a kiss.

This usually sweeps Emma awayーor so it would seem.

However, just as our lips parted, my cheeks were caught between her hands and pulled back in.

(Wha…)

Emma took the lead and kissed me. It wasn’t a sweet peck, but an adult kind with a lot of tongue.

I was taken aback, not expecting this kind of retaliation.

Emma: Don’t underestimate me.

I’ve been poisoned by you to the point that Cyril side-eyes me.

(...)

(Ah…Forget it)

(In front of such a lovely thing, my mistakes are not important)

Clavis: When did you get so good at handling me?

Emma: Hehe, does that mean you approve?

Clavis: Yes, I’ve lost.

(Emma is so much better than me)

Emma: You can leave yourself to me.

With Emma, my fatigue’s washed away by happiness.

(At the end of the day…I’m working for myself, not my lovely fiancee.

(To make this happiness eternal…)

(Let’s go the extra mile)

[jintaka-hane]

Run, baby (don't) run

(x gn!reader) NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Your former crew lost in the Davy Back Fight and you are the tribute to pay. As you step aboard Captain Buggy's ship, your mind begins to conjure ideas for escape, but there's someone who will make your stay not so unpleasant. You might consider yourself clever, presuming to completely know him because you have explored every inch of his body, yet you remain unaware of the deeper emotions he conceals within. Notes: I tried to stick to my initial plan (short smut) and I couldn't... Sorry, I am a hopeless romantic! 💕 Simply wanted to delve into a relationship where intimacy precedes love, rather than the other way around. Warnings: +18, NSFW, MDNI, smut (but there is plot I swear), Sub!Cabaji x Dom!reader (Cabaji is shy, reader is bold), Sub!reader x Dom!Cabaji, oral, teasing, wall sex, wall pinning, idiots in love, some angst with happy ending. Words: 6800 Songs that inspired me: Run, baby run - Garbage

Thank you, my beautiful @fanaticsnail for your help with some parts 🙏🏻 💜 🐌

.

Thud, thud, thud, thud. 

The captain walked with lengthy, intentional strides atop the wooden deck, his footfalls resonating across the damp planks of the ship as he solemnly advanced along the line of awaiting pirates. 

Thud, thud

"... too serious".

Each time he took an aggressive step, he would pause to scrutinize the pirate directly in front of him, a contemptuous critique reserved for each of them.

Thud, thud

"... too tall".

Thud, thud

"... too dull".

Thud, thud, thud… 

...thud

His strides came to a halt mere inches from where you stood, and you averted your gaze, fixating instead on the weathered floorboards. Time appeared to freeze as you sought to go unnoticed, your gaze focused on his worn pointed brown boots.

“YOU,” he said.

You dared to raise your eyes, hoping he might be addressing the next in line, only to find his azure eyes, heavily lined with kohl and blue eyeshadow, fixed squarely upon you.

"Though you'll be needing some makeup…”, he added with a mischievous grin, gazing you up and down, “... and a more colorful attire”.

Satisfied with himself, he spun on his heel and headed back towards his circus-like ship, making a gesture for you to follow him.

You cast one last glance at your companions, giving yourself a few seconds to compose.

“Come on, buttercup!” He barked out at you without turning around, "Where's the enthusiasm?!”

**************

Turning down a challenge was a display of cowardice and shame in the pirate world. And this shame was even greater if the challenge in question was the Davy Back Fight, which stipulated that if two captains accepted, their crews would endure three trials, the losers facing the penalty of crew members theft and the destruction of their pirate flag.

Captain Buggy and his followers had encountered your ship, and in an act of whimsy and boredom, had challenged your former captain, who felt compelled to accept in defense of his honor. Against all odds, your old crew ended up losing to the picturesque and colorful crew led by the sea's most renowned clown, resulting in you being chosen by their captain as a reward for their victory.

You had to quickly adapt to life in the Big Top, vastly different from the customs you had known so far. Made up and dressed in tight circus attire that revealed your midriff, you tried as best you could to fit in with the crew and carry out your tasks amidst the chaos that reigned in that disorganized and eccentric group.

You didn't yet know much about your crewmates, though you could glean some idea of each one's personality: the captain, ambitious, whiny, and extravagant; the first mate, fiercely protective of his captain and always accompanied by an immense circus lion; the unicyclist swordsman, solemn and mysterious, constantly honing new juggling tricks that he later deployed as precise attacks.

It was the latter who particularly had caught your eye, mainly due to the vibrant colors of his attire and the uniqueness of his hair, straight and streaked, pulled to one side. The fact that he always was bare-chested, showcasing his sturdy pectorals, also added to his allure. But you never entertained the thought of getting close to him; after all, you were eager to leave that ragtag crew of pirates behind and join a more formidable crew as soon as possible …

You had sworn allegiance to the captain, but that didn't bind you to servitude for eternity. Perhaps in a few months, slipping away from the ship wouldn't raise too many eyebrows. 

Life aboard wasn't entirely unpleasant. The parties were frequent, which helped time pass more swiftly, and you found amusement in watching the crew's constant juggling and tricks. Yet, you couldn't envision yourself aboard the Big Top for the long haul. Sometimes, unable to bear another note of the incessant circus music, you would retreat to your cabin, bury your head in the pillow, and scream.

One night, an excess of alcohol coursed through the veins of the crew — including you — celebrating that your captain, the great Buggy, had acquired a treasure that would significantly increase everyone's wealth and allow you to afford even more luxuries and extravagances.

You still didn't quite feel like you belonged with them, so you spent the evening watching and analyzing the group of pirates, noting the wildest, the toughest, the most loquacious, and the most reserved among them.

In your analysis, you caught Cabaji looking at you several times, his elongated lined eyes trailing over your abdomen, lingering a bit too long on your navel. The first two times, when your eyes met, he quickly averted his gaze, feigning interest in something else. The third time, he held your gaze and gave you a somewhat hesitant smile. The fourth time, he grabbed his unicycle and some juggling balls, tossed them in the air, and headed towards you, boasting about his sharp reflexes and impressive balance. 

As the acrobatic act concluded, he deftly caught the dancing balls in mid-air one by one with a single hand and, skidding lightly, brought his unicycle to a halt right in front of you, one foot on a pedal while placing the other on the ground to maintain balance. 

You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or simply a desperate need for distraction that night, but you summoned a boldness from somewhere unknown.

“Hey handsome, think you can ride anything besides bicycles?” 

He stood there, his eyes locked onto you, lost for words.

You thought he was an idiot.

And yet, within seconds, you were ravenously making out with that idiot, stumbling through the hallways of the ship as your bodies clumsily bumped with the walls and other unnoticed obstacles making your way to his cabin.

As you reached his room, you paused the kisses momentarily so he could open the door. With a gallant gesture, he ushered you in first, and you entered, casting a swift glance around the space.

It resembled a quaint juggling studio, albeit with the added quirk of a bed positioned at its heart. Disheveled shelves lined the walls, adorned with an array of juggling paraphernalia - diabolos, balls, ribbons, and hoops - alongside an assortment of edged weapons, including swords, knives, and daggers. Atop the floor lay a pair of weathered unicycles, seemingly forgotten.

You took a few steps forward, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim light within, then turned toward him, watching as he closed the door behind him. With determination in your stride, you approached him, wrapping your arms around his neck before pressing your lips to his again, this time slow, lingering, and deep, while he embraced your bare waist. Tilting your chin slightly, you sought a better angle to kiss him, a low moan rumbling in his throat, barely restrained. 

Still emboldened by the courage perhaps instilled by alcohol, you brought a hand to the center of his chest and with your fingers, you traced the outline of his pecs.

“You’re so tough, aren't you?”

With a caress, your hand descended down his muscularly defined abdomen until reaching the edge of his pants, where a fine line of hair disappeared. Loosening the waistband slightly with your fingers, you created enough space for your hand to venture further, slipping beneath the elastic of his underwear. Cabaji froze in place, his muscles tensing around his stomach. With just one finger, you traced the length of his cock gently, from the base to the tip, while locking eyes with him. He was painfully hard.

“My, my… I think you need a bit of help with this, don’t you big guy?”

His cheeks tinted with a slight blush, but he didn't avert his gaze from yours. You noticed the goosebumps prickling his neck and shoulders, and every muscle in his body seemed to be rigid. Seeing he wasn't taking the lead, you decided to tease him further, this time more cruelly.

Removing your hand from his pants, you brought it to your mouth and provocatively licked the palm, coating it with saliva. Then, you slid it back into his pants and grasped his hard cock, your fingers wrapping around it completely. With a soft motion, you pumped it slowly, a moan escaping his lips as he closed his eyes.

“You’re so tense… you need to relax”.

You lifted your other hand and softly brushed his cheek, prompting him to open his eyes, his dark and dilated pupils locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of admiration and lust.

“Tell me… do you wanna fuck me, big guy?” You picked up the pace, pumping him faster.

He nodded slightly in silence, trying to maintain his composure and stay on his feet, while desire consumed him. You smiled, seeing him so vulnerable under your hands.

“Cat got your tongue, huh? Use your words, pretty boy” you teased him. 

“Yes…”

“Oh, he speaks,” you smirked. You found it amusing how shy he was. Accustomed as you were to dominant, proud, and selfish types, he was turning out to be a rare gem you were eager to enjoy. 

Devouring him eagerly, your lips swollen from the fierceness of your kisses, you gradually guided him to the bed, stepping forward while he took slight steps back, just to maintain balance. When the backs of his legs collided with the edge of the bed, you pushed him, his body falling onto the mattress and pulling you with him into a tight embrace, with no intention of separating from you.

You bent your legs, placing your knees on the mattress to straddle him, seeking his neck with your desirous lips, alternating between biting and licking. His hands began to roam your back, desperately searching for the edge of your shirt to help you discard it. You pressed your hips against his, feeling the massive bulge beneath his pants pulsating against you. His hands slid down to your ass, grasping both cheeks and pressing you down against him harder as he moaned, his hips rising in sync with yours.

At that moment, you sat up to look at him, his eyes ablaze with desire as his tongue darted between his lips to catch your saliva, his cheeks flushed, the vein in his neck pulsing frantically and the muscles in his arms tense as he gripped your ass firmly. You smiled to yourself, wanting to etch such a spectacular sight into your memory forever.

"Grab onto the headboard and don't take your hands off unless I tell you to," you ordered.

He obeyed instantly, holding his breath, eager to see what your next move would be.

"Good boy," you praised.

You lifted yourself slightly and crawled down his body until your head was level with his abdomen. Lowering your mouth to nibble on the soft skin around his navel, you made him whimper while your fingers slowly pulled down his pants.

“Relax…”

Directing your mouth to the lower part of his belly button, you continued kissing his tan and sea-salt coated skin, proceeding down to his pubic area as your fingers lowered his pants further and further.

You focused your attention on his groin, this time positioning your head right above his cock, the fabric of his pants the only barrier between you. With the tip of your nose, you briefly caressed the throbbing bulge hidden by his pants, then pressed your lips against it and began to kiss him through the fabric. You felt him gasp, his hips involuntarily rising to meet you, his cock twitching against your mouth. You smiled at his reaction and decided to tease him further, sticking out your tongue and tracing it softly against him while staring into his eyes.

“Please…”

Already begging?

If teasing him was the only way you had to get him to express himself, so be it... 

“Tell me big boy, what do you need?” 

“... my pants… too tight, I’m so hard I can't stand them anymore”.

You smiled to yourself and decided to indulge him. If he spoke, you would obey. With a gentle motion, your fingers lowered the edge of his pants, freeing his dick, which sprang from its captivity making him sigh with relief.

He was large, but you were sure you could handle it. You ran one finger gently over him, caressing the crevice of its tip, and collected some of his pearly fluid. As you pulled your finger away, a silver thread followed connecting you to him, and you looked at it, fascinated.

"I’m going to suck away and swallow that shyness from you… " your resolved words made him moan. 

You paused to look at him, his eyes locked desperately on you, consumed by excitement. Without taking your eyes off his, you proceeded to lick him, your tongue stroking his head, gathering all the precum. 

Opening your mouth wide, you surrounded his cock with your lips, capturing it in a sweet embrace, and began swallowing it slowly all the way down to the base, giving yourself time to adjust to its size as you noticed him holding his breath, the muscles of his abdomen stiff, his gaze attentive to each one of your movements. You kept advancing until you felt the tip in your throat, where you paused for a moment to concentrate and relax your gorge so that it could enter all the way. With one final push, you managed to take him all in. He exhaled all the air from his lungs.

With upward and downward movements, you began to suck him with a light pressure, seeking the perfect angle to take him into your mouth whole, your senses attuned to his reactions, his breathing, and whimpers, to match the right pace. His eyelids fluttered closed and his head tilted slightly backward, savoring every moment, while his obedient hands remained on the headboard, his knuckles white from the pressure his fingers exerted. He opened his eyes to look at you again, fascinated by the sight before him.

“Damn… you’re perfect”, Cabaji sighed out.

Encouraged by his praises, you lightened the pace and pressure, sucking hard as you rose back up to his thick tip, repeating the process over and over again, coaxing songs from his throat. His body stretched, further exposing his bare chest while his hands gripped the headboard of the bed more tightly, causing the wood to groan.

“W-wait, slower... I won't be able to hold it back.”

Knowing that you were making him lose control led you to want to torture him more. You extended your arms, and your hands traveled to his chest, where you began to caress the curves of his muscles, as you worked at the same time with your mouth at a frenetic pace.  Cabaji groaned in frustration as his head lulled to the side, his dark eyes meeting yours with a desperate look. He bit his lip and gently bucked his hips so his cock went further down your throat, causing a small gasp to escape from you.

"S-slower, I don't know how much lon... aaah…”

Your refusal to slow down appeared to prompt him to ignore orders as well, and unable to contain himself any longer, his hands disobeyed your command. With a swift movement he released the headboard and firmly grasped your nape, exerting pressure to thrust deeply into your mouth several times as you sucked him down. It didn’t take long for him to reach his end.

“F-fuck!”.

With one final, deep thrust, he came hard, his hips stuttering as his cock throbbed and released its thick load into your throat while his fingers threaded tight against your scalp. As he filled you up letting out a low groan, you did your utmost to swallow everything he gave you, just as you had promised.

Panting, Cabaji ran a hand through his dark hair, gathering his composure as he looked down at you, admiring how beautiful you remained with your tousled hair and flushed cheeks. You released him gently, freeing your mouth to speak.

“You didn't keep your hands on the headboard," you smiled. Getting up and crawling up his body, you pressed your lips in a fierce kiss against his.

"You didn't slow down," he kissed you back, his hands encircling your back to pull you closer into an embrace. Then, with a swift and fluid motion, he turned your bodies, positioning you beneath him. Looking down at you, he bestowed another passionate kiss.

**************

It couldn't happen again.

In your bed, as your cabin mates snored around you, you gazed up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, reconstructing in your mind all that had occurred during the night.

His head nestled between your thighs, coaxing waves of pleasure with his mouth while he firmly gripped your quivering abdomen against the mattress…

The sound of the headboard banging against the wall, your face buried in the hollow of his neck…. 

You hastily grabbing your clothes to leave…

You shook those thoughts from your mind. 

As enjoyable as it had been, it couldn't happen again.

Having sex with a crewmate wasn't usually a good idea, as it sometimes led to misunderstandings, grudges, jealousy, and troubles entirely to be avoided in life on board. And you couldn't afford that luxury, you needed to keep as low a profile as possible, so that when you vanished, nobody would notice your absence. You couldn't let it happen again.

But of course, it happened again. 

After that initial encounter, many more followed, each one spontaneous and unplanned, sometimes occurring in the most clandestine of places like the pantry, the cellar, or even the armory. With each subsequent meeting, his initial shyness seemed to vanish, replaced by a more possessive and dominant Cabaji.

When the intimate encounters were spurred by the revelry brought on by alcohol during a celebration, Cabaji was accommodating, willing to let you take the lead and set the pace you needed. Those moments were for experimentation and delving more deeply into different ways to pleasure each other, and you quickly learned what things truly drove him wild and made him lose control.

Other times, your sexual liaison served to relieve stress following a violent encounter with an enemy crew, discharging onto each other the adrenaline surged after a victory or the accumulated frustration following a defeat. In these latter cases, you both usually got carried away by fury, and endured energetic sessions of possessive and rough sex, each fighting to dominate the other, focused on pursuing your own pleasure, using the other's body in the process with a frenzied and furious pace. 

**************

"No," he reprimanded, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind, pressing your back firmly against his chest. You struggled against his embrace, striving to break free and reclaim control, attempting to twist around to meet his gaze.

That day, he had fought with Mohji. As often before, it had begun with a petty dispute that had escalated into the first mate challenging Cabaji to a duel to establish his dominance within Buggy's crew. They had fought for quite some time, and in the end, despite their evenly matched skills, Cabaji had lost, albeit narrowly. It only took you one look at him to realize that he would need you that night, and one way or another, you two would end up having vigorous sex.

Seizing you firmly, he steered you towards the wall until your entire front was pressed against its surface. Before you could plant your hands against it to attempt to pivot around, he captured them and pinned them securely against your back.

"NO," he growled as you fought harder, prompting him to tighten his grip even more aggressively, nearly cutting off circulation in your wrists.

"Against the wall," he pushed your head, forcing your cheek to press against the wooden panel.

In moments such as these, your attempts to assert dominance were in vain, for though your speed could sometimes surpass his, his agility and strength were greater. Nevertheless, you persistently resisted and sought to challenge him, driven by primal instincts and an unspoken understanding of the effect it had on both him and yourself.

You attempted a backward kick, swiftly dodged by his agile maneuver, his smirk amused by your futile efforts. He seized the opportunity to slide his leg between yours, forcefully nudging one aside to spread them apart. Drawing near, his heartbeat thundered against your back, while his hips roughly met yours, allowing you to feel his arousal. He gradually lost his grip on your wrists as he sensed your progressive relaxation and surrender.

"Give up, I know you want this too," you heard his voice, a mere whisper against the curve of your jawbone, “don't make me tie you up like last time”.

As his grip momentarily loosened around your wrists, you futilely struggled to break free once more, only to find yourself pinned even tighter against the unyielding wall. Seeking retaliation, you snapped at the air, growling, attempting to capture his lips between your teeth, but he withdrew just in the nick of time.

“Tsk,” he tutted, “I'm going to have to tame you like the wild animal you are…”

“I thought Mohji was the tamer,” you let out, sharply.

You reveled in provoking him repeatedly, testing the limits to see how far you could push. However, as you concluded the sentence, you bit your lip. Perhaps, given the circumstances, you had pushed too far this time.

You had angered him. 

With a ferocity that bordered on the primal, he clasped you tightly around the waist, lifting you with unrestrained force. Spinning you around to face him, he hurled you towards the wall, the unexpected impact causing you to gasp as your shoulder blades collided with the wooden panel, the sound echoing in the tense silence that followed. He seized a handful of your hair and yanked sharply, tilting your head back, so your neck was fully bared to him.

In this position, seeing you completely at his mercy, with your breath catching and your heart pounding, he seemed to calm down. With the tip of his nose, he traced a path along your throat, detecting the pulse of your artery, lingering where adrenaline surged through your bloodstream.

“I’d slit his throat before he could lay a finger on you”, he kissed you right at that spot.

Without shifting his attention from your neck, his hands explored your body, seeking the elastic of your underwear. He slipped his hand inside, gauging your arousal before assisting you in discarding it with a determined tug.

Grasping one of your legs by the back of the thigh, he raised it as high as possible, locking it around his waist. Feeling your calf pressing against him for balance, he repeated the action with your other leg, pressing your body firmly against the wall, making it your support point. Secured in that position, he undid his pants, freeing his swollen and pulsating cock which quivered in search of your warmth. 

“Tell me you want this”, he whispered in the shell of your ear.

“I want you, baby”, you uttered the words that drove him mad.

Without further delay, he bent his knees, causing you to descend, your back sliding down the wall slightly. Gripping his cock, he eagerly directed its tip to your sweet entrance, then thrust into you forcefully, impaling you and causing your hips to collide sharply upward against the wall as he held you securely by the thighs. You panted at the impact, both arms draped around his neck.

Cabaji remained completely still in this position, giving your body time to adjust to his and relax. He closed his eyes, focusing intently, and pressed his cheek against yours, awaiting a subtle signal from you to indicate that he could proceed. After a few moments of concentrating on the rhythm of your heartbeats, he felt your cheek press back against his, signaling your readiness. Firmly securing his grip on your thighs to prevent any slippage, he began thrusting into you with increasing intensity.

"Tell me you're mine," he pleaded, his voice barely audible over the moans escaping your lips as his hips relentlessly collided with yours.

You didn’t answer. 

He always asked you once, and you never responded, leaving him to content himself solely with your kisses and whimpers, something he always tried to counteract with a firmer grip on you, as if the fact that you didn't respond implied that you might escape at any moment.

**************

Beyond your intimate encounters, there were never interactions between you: you neither spoke nor sought each other out. Your meetings were never premeditated, but rather fortuitous and accidental, and the absence of contact outside of these moments left you questioning whether the rest of the crew suspected anything about what was happening between you two.

One night, you returned to your cabin after having a horrible day. You had been particularly clumsy, and while organizing the juggling room, hundreds of balls, diabolos, and hoops had fallen on you. You had to endure some crewmates' shouts and spent hours putting everything back in place just as it was. All you wanted was to lie down in your bed, rest, and hope that the next day would be better. 

Upon reaching your cabin, you noticed something small resting atop your pillow. Intrigued, you approached, picked it up, and examined it closely: it was a delicate handmade paper flower, its exquisite petals meticulously folded to resemble a real blossom, alternating between shades of blue and white, reminiscent of Cabaji's scarf.

With a bitter chuckle, you cast it aside.

"What a fool..."

**************

The following night, you found yourself in his bed once more. Throughout the day, the crew had been reveling and drinking, and a chance encounter in the evening had led you to end up as you always did, enjoying each other's bodies. 

On this occasion, you were lying face down, bearing the weight of his body, your legs spread to welcome him inside you as his hips delivered his final thrusts against you. Moaning deeply against your neck, he chased his release for the second time that night. With one hand pressing firmly your lower abdomen, he lifted your pelvis, seeking the perfect angle to discharge himself as profoundly into you as possible.

With one last, deep thrust, you noticed his body shaking against yours, his cock twitching as he poured all his tension into you, relishing the moment and taking his time, deep growls escaping from his throat.

Panting heavily from the exertion, he collapsed on top of you, his forearms bracing against the mattress on either side of your body to avoid bearing down his full weight on you. Once he had emptied himself completely, he withdrew, pressing his lips briefly against one of your shoulders in a sort of farewell kiss before falling exhausted by your side.

Typically, after finishing, you didn't waste time and returned to your normal routine, either heading to your cabin to rest or, if it was during the day, continuing with your everyday tasks on board. But this time, particularly, you were exhausted, and for the first time, you lingered a bit with him between the sheets.

“I’m drained,” you murmured.

“Hmm”.

You remained lying face down, arms folded beneath your head, forehead resting upon them, taking deep breaths as you tuned out the world around you.

Suddenly, you felt fingertips caressing your body, gently trailing down your spine, tracing an imaginary line over your small back and descending to follow the curve of your ass, the contact making your skin goosebump.

You lifted your head immediately, surprised by the sudden display of tenderness, and found Cabaji lying on his side, beside you, his arm bent and his head resting on his hand. His gaze fixed on your body with an intensity that bordered on... devotion.

His fingers traced the same curve again, drawing delicate patterns on your back and causing you to shudder again under his touch. Your body tensed up as the air seemed to freeze in your lungs.

What was that? 

Was that an expression of… 

… affection?

Your heart began to skip beats as anxiety invaded your chest.

NO. 

Immediately, the memory of the beautiful flower resting on your pillow the previous night flooded your mind, triggering an internal alarm. 

No, no, no, no.

No feelings.

NO.

You sprang from the bed in a swift motion, your naked body fully exposed to him. He looked at you, surprised by your sudden movement, yet a smile played across his lips, seizing the opportunity to admire your figure once more.

“You’re so pretty…”

“Cabaji,” your expression darkened.

“… yes?”

“... you know this is just sex, right? Nothing more.”

His smile faltered momentarily, yet his gaze remained inscrutable, making it difficult for you to discern his thoughts. Those stupidly beautiful, lined eyes fixed on you.

“Yes, of course I know,” he responded promptly.

“Good.” 

You stepped away from the bed to gather your clothes, an awkward silence filling the room. You dressed as swiftly as you could, the oppressive tension in the air making it hard to breathe normally. As soon as you were fully clothed, you opened the door, eager to make your exit.

“See you,” you bid him farewell, casting a final glance at the bed where he sat, still unclothed, with his gaze fixed on some distant point in the room.

“Bye”.

**************

Following that last conversation, two long weeks went by without any form of contact between the two of you.

At first, you didn't understand. You were used to not having any kind of relationship with him outside of your sexual encounters, but even though you didn't talk during the day, no more than two or three nights would pass before you found yourselves in each other's arms again. However, there was no trace of Cabaji wherever you went. The only news you had of him were snippets of conversations drifting from afar.

"Hey, did you hear? Cabaji threw a knife in target practice and he missed. He stabbed a man right in his hand."

"No way! He's never missed!"

"Yes, yes, he did. He's been a bit lost lately…"

Occasionally, you would catch sight of him from a distance, whether in the galley, the juggling practice area, or on deck, where he was often engaged in conversation with the captain or involved in heated exchanges with Mohji.

As days went by, you began to believe that his interest in you had waned, signaling the end of your clandestine affair, perhaps for the best. 

You carried on with your life without giving it a second thought. Your days were a whirlwind of tasks, leaving little room for contemplation or reflection, and if you had any time left, you spent it plotting the best way to leave the ship and find another crew.

A few days later, you were walking down a narrow hallway that connected one cabin to another below deck. You walked calmly, lost in your thoughts, when suddenly you felt a strong grip seize your arm, pulling you sharply towards them and causing you to collide against their chest, momentarily throwing you off balance. 

Startled by the abruptness of the action, you glanced up to identify the assailant, only to find yourself met by the sight of a blue and white scarf—Cabaji. 

"What are you doing?!" you asked furiously, attempting to wrench your arm free.

"We need to talk".

"Let me go!" you used your free hand to shove him off.

At that moment, as if the capricious universe were mocking you, a crew member attempted to pass through the hallway, causing you to pause momentarily your movements. The space was so narrow that, to make room for him, you had to move closer to Cabaji, causing your bodies to touch completely. You felt a strange sensation at the contact, like a familiar warmth that your body had unconsciously longed for.

"Hey," the shipmate greeted as he advanced down the hallway. 

Time seemed to stretch infinitely in that position, standing so close to each other that you could feel Cabaji's agitated heartbeat, your chests pressed against each other. As the shipmate passed by your side, he appeared startled by the sight of Cabaji towering over you, firmly gripping your arm.

“You two okay?”

“We’re fine”, Cabaji snapped curtly, his eyes still fixed on yours.

The crewate, sensing the odd situation and not wishing to get embroiled in any trouble, hurriedly made himself scarce. As soon as he disappeared and you were alone again, you pulled your body away from Cabaji, and gave another strong tug to release yourself from his grip. 

This time he let go. 

With your arm now free, you turned around to continue advancing down the hallway. 

"I have things to attend to."

"Wait..." he said frustrated, stepping in front of you to block your path. You attempted to go around him, but he stopped you. Letting out an impatient huff, you tried to shove past him once more, your hands trying to brace against his chest.

"Hold on…" he grabbed your wrists mid-air to hinder you from pushing him, and you sharply twisted your hands, freeing yourself again. With an angry snort, he swiftly seized you by the waist before you could escape again, lifting you off the ground and pinning you against the wall. As you tried to push yourself away from the wall to break free, he grabbed your shoulders firmly, thwarting your attempts to flee.

"Damn it, you're so stubborn," he muttered in frustration.

Cornered and feeling the firm pressure of his fingers grasping your shoulders, you surrendered. You shut your eyes and drew in a deep breath, attempting to rein in the anger bubbling within you. As you exhaled, you steeled yourself to confront him, reopening your eyes to meet his gaze. 

Upon closer inspection, you were taken aback to see the fatigue etched on his face and the deep circles beneath his eyes, clear signs that he had been suffering. 

"Are you going to listen to me?" he begged you.

“Fine.”

"Good.”

His eyes darted between yours, seeming to take a moment to arrange the words in his head before speaking them. You waited quietly, somewhat concerned because you had never seen him so distressed. His eyes then moved to your lips, lingering on them for a few seconds.

"And?" You asked haughtily, titling your chin up. Your question seemed to bring him back to reality and his dark, lined eyes refocused on yours.

"Okay... ,“ he inhaled deeply, struggling to find the right words and not mess things up. “Well, I… I knew the rules... but …," he paused again.

"What rules?” you asked, urging him to continue.

“Listen, I know we… No, I… I  was not supposed to fall…,” he halted abruptly. He seemed to be delivering the most complicated discourse of his life, looking at you with a furrowed brow. You could almost hear the neurons in his brain, racing to find the right words.. “I’ve tried, I've tried hard but I…”.

Without understanding anything of that nonsense, you lost your patience.

“Cabaji, what the hell are you talking ab...?” 

“I miss you,” he cut you off.

You arched an eyebrow, taken aback. 

"What?"

“I miss you,” he repeated, more confident this time, finally finding the courage to deliver a somewhat coherent speech. “I … can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can’t even hit a target. I can’t live like this''.

Your eyes widened as your brain processed his words gradually, incredulous at what you were hearing.

“... I'm craving you”.

You were speechless, bewildered by his desperate words, which caught you completely off guard. Time seemed to stand still, the creak of the wood and the gentle sway of the boat the only signs that the world hadn't stopped.

Your eyes briefly darted to his hands, your shoulders flushed from the pressure of his grip. Following the direction of your gaze, he suddenly seemed to realize that he was still holding onto you and immediately released you.

"Forgive me," he apologized in such a low tone that it was only audible to you.

You stood there, staring at him intently, your back pressed firmly against the wall as your head spun.

“Y/N, please… please, come to me tonight.  Please, let me have you again tonight, I … I rather jump overboard than deal with another night without you”. 

He was pleading with such desperation that you felt a tightness on your throat, overwhelmed by everything you were having to process in that moment. A sense of infinite sadness engulfed your chest, releasing all the suffering you had been denying yourself from feeling these past few weeks. 

"And…,” he continued, “I can't stand you leaving afterwards. I’d like to spend more time with you… I want to be able to caress you without you fleeing from me in fear."

You remained silent, unsure of what to say. It was too much, too many thoughts, too many feelings, and you didn't know which path was the wisest to take. 

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” he smiled sadly.

You turned your face to the side and averted your eyes from him to give yourself a few seconds to think without feeling the pressure of his hungry eyes staring into yours, desperate for a response.

“I am not scared of you,” you managed to say with a thread of voice.

He lifted one of his hands and brought it to your chin, gently holding it between his fingers to guide your face back to his and meet his gaze head-on.

“No…" he sighed, "you're scared of us. Of what we could become… if you let me”.

His fingers moved from your jawbone to your cheek, his thumb softly caressing it, causing you to shiver. How was it possible that after all the physical contact you had shared for weeks, after all the scratches, licks, bites, grips and thrusts, what you found most challenging to endure was a simple caress?

“... would you? Would you let me?”

Your mind scrambled, attempting to swiftly piece together a response. The plans to abandon the boat flashed through your mind, as until that moment, leaving within a few months had been a firm decision. But now, as you stood there, your thoughts became a tangled mess, forming a lump in your throat that silenced any reply.

Sensing your distress and hesitation, Cabaji gently eased the pressure his fingers exerted on your cheek, and seeking to grant you some breathing room, his body appeared to drift imperceptibly away from yours. You perceived the shift, and in that instant, realization dawned. You understood then, deep in your core, that you truly were afraid.

It was the fear that Cabaji might let you go and turn away. The fear of him never touching you again, the fear of never feeling his lips against yours, the fear of him never looking at you with the intensity he did in those moments. The fear of him disappearing from your life forevermore.

You lifted your hand, letting it hover momentarily before cupping his own, cradling it against your cheek. Meeting his weary gaze, you smiled softly at him and offered a silent affirmation with a nod.

“My love…” he smiled back at you, exhaling the relief that anticipation had built up in his lungs. His hand left your cheek and moved slowly to your nape, his fingers tangling in your hair. With gentleness, he drew your head towards his until your noses brushed lightly. Sensing your breath quickening nervously, he paused, unsure if this was really what you wanted.

As he came to a halt, you let out a frustrated exhale and, gripping his scarf tightly, you forcefully pulled him towards you to close the short distance separating your lips, causing them to collide and seal in a loving kiss.

Encouraged by your determined attitude, he kissed you back, long and deep, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to him as if every inch of distance between you was too much to bear. After spending so much time apart, the kiss felt so good that you began to search for more and more hungrily, hardly letting him breathe, chaining one kiss to another, eliciting soft moans from his throat. 

Each time the kisses felt like they were nearing their end, your lips ravenously sought his once more, while he, caught up in the fervor of your embrace, allowed himself to be carried away. When the lack of air forced you to lower the intensity and part, he looked into your eyes.

“Tell me, are those things you have to attend to now so urgent?”

“No,” you said quickly, leaning in eagerly to kiss him again.

“Well… ,“ he stopped you for a moment, placing his index finger on your lips, “why don’t we go to bed and see if this time you're ready to answer if you're mine?” And before you could reply, he captured your mouth with his again, smiling into your lips.

You know this is just sex, right? Nothing more.

Your own words echoed in your mind as you hooked your arms around his neck and pressed him against you, angling your chin to deepen the kiss further.

Fuck it.

.

[kylobith]

LotR Week - Day 5 (20th Sep)

Here with me — @lotrweek

All of Rohan stood at the ready in and around Edoras, eager to behold their new king. Everything was prepared and cautiously measured. Banners, flags, food, drink. Hardly any flowers or garlands, but that did not matter to them. The Rohirrim wore their shiniest armour or most fancy dress, their blond heads plaited and adorned with the most intriguing hairstyles for whomever was foreign to Rohirric customs. And there were many who attended from outside the kingdom too.

As Éomer insisted, he would first pay tribute to the funeral mounds of his predecessors, then climb the capital while mounted on his horse, solemnly making his way through his people up to the Golden Hall and his throne, where the crown would be placed upon his brow by his sister. A simple ceremony, despite the symbolism behind it. He was a man of simple taste, like most of his kin. There was no wish for any luxurious display typical of Gondorian events, even though Aragorn’s coronation did impress him greatly.

Éowyn was waiting outside Meduseld by Faramir’s side, dressed in her most formal gown. She nervously fidgeted with the trimming of her sleeve, casting several glances towards the city. She could merely catch a tiny glimpse of the Barrowfield, so crowded were the steps to the Hall. But there was nobody to be seen by the graves. No silhouette, no cloak, nothing.

She let out yet another sigh and flattened her cuff again, realising that she messed it up by tweaking it. Her nerves were getting the best of her.

‘He is late,’ she murmured. ‘I saw that he was clothed on time, so why is he late?’

A hand cupped her shoulder, alleviating some of the weight that she placed upon them.

‘My lady, do not fret so much,’ Faramir whispered to her in his honeyed voice she had learnt to cherish. ‘It is not unusual for ceremonies to run late, either in Rohan or Gondor, I am sure. Whatever is keeping him from the ceremony must be justified.’

Éowyn nibbled on her lower lip, absent-mindedly covering his hand with her own. The warmth of his skin temporarily soothed her, but she could not prevent the whirlwind of possibilities to take over her mind. What if her brother was ill? What if something crucial was missing? What if the blade of his sword had not been polished well enough for his taste? What if he was injured? What if the preparations for the ceremony now seemed too dull to him, and he preferred a Gondorian celebration? What if somebody snuck inside and attacked him?

Another look thrown towards the mounds. Another answerless inquiry.

She shook her head and tugged at her skirt.

‘I must check on him. I just want to make sure that he is alright.’

Before Faramir could seize her hand and hold her back to comfort her, she stormed towards the doors and nodded at the guards to open them. Inside the hall, there were only servants and maids arranging the last details for the coronation, bringing in benches and setting up pelts upon them, as well as on the throne itself. Banners were hung from the lofty arches, bearing the colours of the realm and Éomer’s arms. The mere sight brought some balm to her heart. She could already tell that her brother would be loved by all, as he deserved to be.

But that relied on his presence at the coronation, which was still uncertain. Where could he be? Éowyn searched the kitchens first, wondering whether her brother would feel peckish if he felt anything as nervous as she did. None of the kitchen staff had seen him.

Then, she moved her quest to the King’s Quarters, inspecting the office, the archives, but he kept eluding her. So, as her last resort, she gathered up her skirts and ran towards the royal quarters. As beads of sweat manifested on her forehead and trapped the few flyaway hairs detaching from her hairdo, she nearly sprinted down the corridor to reach Éomer’s door.

When she stood there, she softly knocked but earned no response. Frustrated and stressed from the delay, her fist slammed harder against the wood. Nothing. Yet she would not accept it. She instantly forced the door open and scanned the room. A sniffle from behind the bed caught her attention. She snapped her head towards the source of the noise and followed it.

Huddled up on the floor with his back pressed to the bedframe, Éomer was painfully pressing his knees up to his chest, despite the stiffness of his ceremonial armour. Tears stained his reddened cheek and drowned his unfocused eyes. He looked an utter mess, right when he should not.

Éowyn sank to the floor by his side and held him by the shoulders, trying to bring him to look into her eyes as they bore into him.

‘Éomer, what is happening?’ she whimpered helplessly, taken aback by the alarming sight. ‘Everybody is awaiting your arrival.’

He roughly wiped his cheek, not bothering to look at his sister — or perhaps he felt too ashamed to do it — and sniffed again.

‘I cannot do it, Wyn.’

Her brow furrowed. She could not imagine how her brother, renowned for his bravery and strength of will, would yield to the promise of the throne. Now that their family had been robbed from them, she was most likely the living person who knew him best, and she never had seen him in such a state since the passing of their parents.

She sat down beside him and nudged him with her shoulder.

‘Why is that, Mer?’

He gathered himself up, regaining enough strength to explain his anguish when words so fleeted him. Despite his state, he sensed the urge to spare her from the harshness of what tormented him, in the same way that he had sought to protect her ever since she was born. But there was not much that he could hide from her now. She had eyes, and it was about time that he stopped infantilising her. She had proven herself worthy of the greatest honours; he could no longer confine her to the image of a helpless child.

As if she had ever been that.

‘I never meant for any of this to happen,’ he sighed. ‘Théodred’s passing, the war, our uncle’s passing… I was never educated to become king. I was never taught state affairs. I am a soldier. That is all I have ever been. What legitimacy do I have as a king? I deserve none of it.’

‘Mer…’

Éowyn wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. Oh, how it pained her to see him in such a state. Her thumb traced soft lines on his arm at a soothing pace, helping him relax by the minute.

‘You are underestimating yourself,’ she murmured. ‘You have much to learn, as does every king accessing the throne, but that does not mean that you do not know anything. You were a prince once, before our uncle became king. You received the education of a prince by your old tutor. Surely Théodred spoke to you about some things he learnt. You two were close.’

‘He did, but what legitimacy does it give me?’

‘The blood of the royal house of Rohan flows through your veins as it does through mine. You have spent your youth, your whole life defending the realm. You are a war hero. How would you not be the ruler that our kingdom needs?’

Éomer scoffed and planted a brief kiss on her forearm, clinging to it.

‘We have hardly had any time to mourn Théoden and Théodred. Everything happened so fast… My heart is still aching.’

‘War brought much torment to our family and continues to do so even now that it is over. Do not keep the pain at bay. Embrace it, but acknowledge your duty as well, Éomer. Today is yours to seize as our new king. You can grieve for as long as you need to once the crown has been placed on your head.’

‘Will it not alter my capacities to carry on my responsibilities?’

She shook her head and shifted closer to him. This time, their eyes met, and for the first time since everything went dark for them both, they saw the child within themselves and the other. Two children, almost left to their own devices, alone against a hostile world that threatened to annihilate everything they knew and held dear.

For a long time, they only had each other. Théoden and Théodred, as much as they cherished them, hardly understood the extent of their loss. For years they hid their pain to keep up with their uncle and cousin and accommodate themselves into the new roles bestowed upon them. And when Gríma planted his rotten fangs under the king’s skin and poisoned him, the siblings were alone against the world again.

And they would always find each other in the end. Despite Éomer’s banishment, despite Éowyn’s narrow escape from death.

Éowyn tightened her grip around her older brother. She had too often overlooked the simplicity of a fraternal embrace, words of encouragement towards each other. They mattered now. More than ever.

‘You will be a just king, Éomer. I just know it. And I believe in you.’

‘But…’

Tears flooded his eyes anew and spilled onto his beard as he let out a gasped and trembled.

‘But you will not see any of it. You will not be around. I am about to lose you too,’ he wept.

‘Lose me?’

He shrugged and clutched her arm.

‘You are leaving for Gondor. You will settle down there, build a family and a life there. Will I even see you again?’

Éowyn’s eyes widened at his words. Never had she imagined that she had caused part of his strife. She had been elated about her engagement, which was to be announced later on during the celebrations, but she had no clue that Éomer would resent it in any way.

Her thumb wiped away his tears.

‘You are not losing me, Mer, nor will you ever. My marriage will never come in the way of our bond, I promise you that. I will visit as often as I am able, and you will know your nieces or nephews. They will know your name and your face, and their eyes will light up with joy whenever your name is mentioned. I will make sure of that. Besides, you will always be welcome in our home.’

‘Do you really mean that?’

She laughed and ran a hand through his hair to tame the knots that he had created by clutching tresses of it when nobody was looking.

‘Of course I do! You are my brother, Mer, and I do not want a life where you are estranged.’

‘Mh.’

At last, he allowed himself to smile, despite the brevity of the display. She grinned and kissed his cheek.

‘I will always be with you,’ she intoned. ‘Today especially. I am here with you, and I have no desire to turn away.’

Éomer sighed and held her against his heart.

‘Here. With me. Alright. Perhaps I can do this.’

They parted and stared at each other for a few seconds, before chuckling together. She stood up and held out her hand.

‘Come on. Your people are waiting.’

He took it without thinking and allowed her to straighten up his appearance. Before they walked out the door, he halted her with a hand on her back.

‘Before we go…’

She looked up at him expectantly, wondering what he had to say. He was never one for emotional or affectionate displays. Éomer inhaled deeply and smiled at his little sister.

‘You look beautiful today. And you will be the most gorgeous bride in history. And I love you.’