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room-surprise · 1 year ago

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Some Things Keep Best in the Cellar

SUMMARY: Kabru's party members assume he must have some love-sick girl that cleans his room, does his laundry (and who knows what else!), but actually it's just his landlord. Even though Kabru doesn't pay him for the extra work, and tells him not to bother, he takes care of Kabru anyway. What is the relationship between Kabru and his landlord? A character study of Kabru, told through the eyes of his landlord. 15,317 words. AUTHOR’S NOTES: Kabru’s landlord doesn’t have a name (I’m calling him Tyto), and I had to make up everything about him for this fic. He’s only appeared in two extra comics, one from the Adventurer's Bible about Milsiril coming to visit Kabru (he calls Kabru a lady-killer and tells him a pretty girl has come to see him, not knowing she’s his adopted mom), and one from Ryoko Kui’s blog where the rest of the party speculates about who cleans Kabru’s rented room and does his laundry… They think it must be some girl that’s in love with Kabru, but it turns out, it’s the innkeeper. First Appearance Second Appearance If the links above stop working: He looks to be a dwarven man with a bald head, a short beard, and a scar on his temple. Fic is mostly a character and world study about Merini Island and Kabru, but also there’s a m/m sex scene. Kabru is 22 years old, and the age of majority for tallmen in Dungeon Meshi is 16. Tyto’s in his 70s, which is roughly middle-aged for a dwarf.

CONTENT WARNINGS: Fantasy racism, one-sided pining, relationship break-up, age difference (older man/younger man), m/m sex scene, anal sex, fingering, blowjobs. SPOILER WARNINGS: References end of the manga, around chapter 95. READ ON AO3

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For most of Tyto Casari’s life, Merini had been nothing more than a poor rural island in the gulf of Kahka Brud. It was home to a couple of farmers, some artisans, a whole lot of fishermen, and a family of provisional governors that would approve anything, so long as they were sufficiently bribed. It wasn’t the most prosperous place to live, but the natural beauty of the surrounding ocean and the peace and quiet made up for that. The thing they were probably the most famous for was their artichokes. Tyto had never eaten an artichoke from somewhere else, but people said the ones they grew in Merini were the best.

Life changed drastically when an earthquake opened an ancient dungeon to the surface. Adventurers came in droves, weighing down barges from the mainland almost to the point of capsizing in their rush to be among the first to reach the dungeon. They were all eager for a chance to loot easy treasure, and some even believed the gossip that there was a mad sorcerer that controlled the dungeon, and if one could defeat him, they’d inherit the crown to the defunct kingdom of Merini.

Tyto only had a basic education, but he was pretty sure there was more to inheriting a kingdom than that, so he didn’t worry himself too much about what adventurers did in the dungeon. As long as they were respectful to the locals and paid their bills, what else they believed was none of his business.

With Merini’s newfound fame, it became so profitable to rent rooms to adventurers in need of a place to stay, that many local families abandoned their ancestral professions in favor of becoming landlords. Families with larger houses became incredibly wealthy. Small houses did their best to cram as many renters inside as possible. It was not uncommon to find great rooms and parlors full of adventurers sleeping shoulder to shoulder on the floor, or stables, empty of livestock, converted into makeshift barracks that could house twenty men, each dangling from a fisherman’s net that had been converted into a hammock. Almost nothing was made locally anymore, since importing goods from the mainland and selling them for ten times their value to adventurers was so much more profitable.

Tyto’s family had been the island’s only cheesemakers once, but seeing the way the wind was blowing, they’d sold their cows and used the money to build extra walls to make more private rooms in the house and barn. His younger sister and her family had moved to the mainland so that there was more empty space for Tyto to rent. He sent the bulk of the profits to them and ran the inn as best he could on his own.

Tyto missed cheese-making, but being an innkeeper wasn’t a bad life either. He enjoyed cooking, cleaning and doing minor repairs. He liked hearing about other people’s adventures. He’d never been an adventurous sort himself, so listening to other people tell their tales was all the excitement he really wanted in his life.

The Casari Inn, filled to capacity, housed twenty-five tenants between the private rooms upstairs, floor space in the great room, cots in the barn, and one cot in the cellar. The storage room attached to the kitchen that had once been used for aging cheese had become Tyto’s bedroom because the ceiling was too low to rent it to most people. Thanks to his family’s mixed blood, Tyto was a little taller than an average dwarf, but not so tall that the cheese aging room was uncomfortable.

Like most other landlords, he provided two meals a day to his tenants. Thankfully, most of the time about half of his renters were in the dungeon, so there was less work, but some days everyone was home and he had to prepare it all by himself.

All of this would have been much easier if his sister had remained on the island with him, but Livia had a husband and growing children to take care of, and there just wasn’t enough room. It also would have been easier if Tyto were married, but despite being in his 70s, he’d never found the right man or woman for it, much to his perpetual embarrassment.

Going out and talking to people was hard. He never knew what to say, and always agonized afterwards that whatever he had said was foolish and embarrassing. Whatever looks or physical appeal youth had given him were long gone. Though he was taller than your average dwarf, he was also much shorter than any tallman. His beard was decently thick, but he’d lost all the hair on his scalp decades ago. Tyto didn’t think that he was ugly, but he knew that he wasn’t particularly attractive, either, and he didn’t have the kind of outgoing personality that might make up for his unimpressive appearance.

Maybe he’d meet someone someday, though the more time passed, the more he worried that he’d missed all his opportunities.

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For the next several days, Tyto had a full house to feed, which was always a laborious undertaking. He was glad that even though his sister had moved out, and even though he wasn’t married, he wasn’t completely alone anymore. He had a part-time helper.

When Kabru had first shown up in Merini like many adventurers he’d spent a few weeks sleeping on the streets. One of Tyto’s long-term tenants, a spell-caster from Fabri, had introduced them. She’d vouched for Kabru’s character because they’d worked together on a caravan, and that had been enough for Tyto to offer the boy a deal. He’d had no open rooms at the time, but there was space in the cellar for a cot, and Tyto was in dire need of an extra pair of hands. Tyto let the room go for half his normal renter’s fee, with the stipulation that Kabru would help out around the inn when Tyto needed it.

Truthfully, Tyto hadn’t been expecting much. He figured he’d be lucky if the lad didn’t take advantage of his unfettered access to the cellar, and gave him some halfhearted assistance on occasion. However, Kabru turned out to be honest and hard working. On busy nights, he threw himself into helping; hauling barrels of ale up the stairs, delivering platters of food and drink to the great room, bringing the empty ones back to the kitchen and scrubbing them clean. Tyto was grateful to have Kabru around, though he was honestly puzzled as to why the lad was on the island.

Most people came to the island in search of easy money, or if they believed the legend, they wanted power. As far as Tyto could tell, Kabru wasn’t interested in either of those things. What he was interested in was people, getting to know them, learning what they wanted and needed in life. Frequently Tyto would catch him in the middle of what seemed like a harebrained scheme to help someone that Kabru barely even knew. “How do you know them?” Tyto always asked, and Kabru would shrug and give a non committal answer. He’d met them in the market, in the dungeon, at the courthouse, the public bath, the library… And Kabru saw that they needed help in some fashion, so he’d made it his business to provide it.

Over the past two years of knowing him, Tyto had watched with growing fascination as Kabru had played match-maker between would-be lovers, or counselor for feuding spouses, or diplomat between adventurers that had suffered a party breakdown. He’d seen him help lonely people make friends, convince unruly gangs to avoid each other instead of fight, and connected merchants to people that needed their wares, and vice-versa.

He was a professional meddler in the affairs of others, and Tyto would have thought that kind of nosiness would come back and bite Kabru in the ass, but the opposite seemed to be true. Kabru helped people, really, truly helped them, and as a result, he turned strangers into allies and sometimes even friends. It felt like there wasn’t any corner of the island where Kabru didn’t have connections. To Tyto, who found making friends intimidating, it seemed as miraculous as magic.

It was through this sociable meddling that Kabru had constructed his own adventuring party. A gradual accumulation of people that believed in Kabru’s leadership ability, and wanted to follow him wherever he might go… And where he wanted to go was into the dungeon.

The lad had told Tyto his story one time, after a few drinks: Kabru came from a village in Vestra that had been home to a flourishing dungeon. It had grown out of control, and when the elves had failed to contain it, monsters and the undead had spilled out and destroyed the surrounding area, devouring the people in a bloody spectacle with very few survivors. Kabru wanted to understand why it had happened, and make sure that it never happened anywhere else.

It was a noble goal, and Kabru seemed deeply devoted to it, but Tyto had no idea how he expected to accomplish such a thing. He was only one tallman, and there were dungeons all over the world, probably some that nobody even knew about. In all this time, if the long-lived races hadn’t found a way to prevent dungeons from collapsing, maybe it couldn’t be done… Nevertheless, Kabru kept going back into the dungeon, trying to unravel whatever secrets it held.

Tyto just hoped that Kabru would survive his own curiosity. Though adventurers going into the dungeon was an everyday occurance, Tyto knew how dangerous it was. For all the people who went in and made their fortunes, there were even more that never came out at all. He knew that Kabru had already died and been revived multiple times while in the dungeon… But he might not always be so lucky.

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Tyto was stirring the broth he’d been simmering on the stove when Kabru returned to the inn. When the lad went into the dungeon, he wore a mix of mail, leather and plate armor, but right now the green hooded tunic he was in told Tyto he only could have been doing things in the village.

“What are we making tonight, Mr. Casari?” Kabru’s attentive gaze skimmed across all the ingredients Tyto had set out in the kitchen, and of course caught on the stack of tomatoes among the other vegetables. “Tomatoes?” he asked, with only slightly tempered delight.

“Goat stew with tomatoes,” Tyto replied, feeling immensely pleased with himself. Tomatoes weren’t an everyday staple in Merini, but he knew how much Kabru enjoyed them, so when he’d happened upon someone selling them in the market he had to get them, and of course he had to use them with goat, since he knew that was the boy’s other favorite.

Tyto was very fond of Kabru, and that meant that he liked to do things for him when the opportunity presented itself. He tried to make sure that Kabru ate often and ate well. Tyto also cleaned his room and did his laundry, ignoring Kabru’s repeated protests that he didn’t need any help with it.

Tyto had discovered early on that Kabru knew how to clean and do laundry, because he regularly helped Tyto with washing linens and dusting and sweeping the house, but when it came to his own room and clothes, for some reason he seemed incapable of keeping up with it. So if Tyto didn’t do it, the cellar got dirty, the trash attracted pests, and Kabru frequently wound up sitting in the yard wearing nothing but his smallclothes because he’d had to wash everything he owned at once, and was stuck waiting for his clothes to dry in the sun.

Kabru was very, very good at taking care of other people, and terrible at taking care of himself… But despite this, Kabru regularly seduced and bedded a variety of people, while Tyto watched from the sidelines. Kabru was handsome as a devil, twice as cunning, and terribly charming. Tyto had seen at least one pair of women get into a drunken fist-fight over his attention, and he could imagine all too well what kind of mischief the boy got up to any time he went missing overnight.

Yet even with Kabru's huge amount of friends, admirers and eager potential bedmates, Tyto was the only one bothering to take care of him. And it took so little to make the lad happy! He seemed so genuinely grateful whenever Tyto left his clean clothes in a pile on his bed, or when Tyto bought him a new bottle of writing ink on a whim, or made a meal that had tomatoes in it...

The smile on Kabru’s face at the prospect of eating a meal as ordinary as goat and tomato stew was so bright and full of joy, Tyto felt overwhelmed being the recipient of it, which of course made the overpriced tomatoes feel like they’d been a bargain. Was what he did for Kabru really that special? Was he actually important to the lad, or just convenient?

Tyto wondered about this often. He was much older than Kabru, even when one compared their relative ages instead of absolute numbers, but like the other people that got caught up in Kabru’s web, Tyto had fallen prey to Kabru’s charms on more than one occasion. It was embarrassing for a man his age to let a boy like Kabru toy with him, no matter how beautiful and silver-tongued he was, but Tyto found himself incapable of saying no to him. It made Tyto blush any time he thought about the times Kabru had lured him into his bed.

“I’m sure it’s going to be delicious,” Kabru said, bringing Tyto’s attention back to the stew. The lad was looking about the kitchen in search of something to do. “What can I help with?”

Sometimes it was more work for Tyto to teach Kabru how to do things in the kitchen than it would have been for Tyto to do it himself. Kabru had never hung off his mother’s skirts, watching her tend a cooking fire, and he’d never been given those essential childhood chores that taught kids the basics and made them so useful for helping out. That meant Tyto often relegated Kabru to simple jobs like fetching and carrying water, adding fuel to the fire as necessary, and watching over things so he could alert Tyto when a pot was boiling over or something was about to burn.

‘Mr. Casari! The stove needs you!’ was a common refrain when Kabru was helping him. At first Tyto had just found the slightly panicked tone in Kabru’s voice funny, like the lad was afraid the stove was going to bite him if he tampered with it. Now Tyto just felt endeared whenever Kabru called for his aid.

“Clean and cut up all the vegetables,” Tyto told him. “I’ll go fetch the meat.”

One of the kitchen tasks Kabru was good at was anything involving a blade. Since the lad had come to stay with him, Tyto hadn’t needed to worry about sharpening any of his knives, because Kabru kept them all honed without any prompting. The lad peeled and cut vegetables with impressive speed and precision, and though he hadn’t known how to butcher an animal at first, he’d learned very quickly (while rather alarmingly remarking, “oh, not as different from a human as I thought.”), and these days Tyto left that sort of prep work to him. It freed Tyto up to do other things, which made the overall task of cooking much less arduous.

Kabru rolled up his sleeves and got to work with a scrub bucket and brush, while Tyto stacked some logs in the hearth, and got the fire going under his empty cauldron. Most houses didn’t have a kitchen big enough to prepare large meals like this, and many smaller houses didn’t even have a kitchen at all. Tyto was lucky that as cheesemakers, they’d had a big kitchen, a large hearth and a metal stove. Occasionally his neighbors came to him when they needed help preparing meals they weren’t equipped for, and Tyto made them something for a couple of extra coins on the side.

Tyto left Kabru to his task, and headed down the stairs to the cellar. Though Kabru lived down here, it was also where Tyto stored barrels of beer, bottles of wine, oil, vinegar and more. The larder was on the north side of the building, separated from the rest of the cellar by a wooden door. The shelves were lined with dried fish and meat, separated from each other by scraps of paper and linen cloth. Barley and oats were stored in wooden buckets with heavy stones on their lids, to keep pests out. Vegetables dangled in nets next to the half of a goat that Tyto had set aside for tonight’s stew.

He pulled the meat off its hook and made his way back upstairs to the kitchen, setting the partial carcass down on the counter beside Kabru. Then Tyto picked up a knife, which he used to carve off a lump of what was mostly fat and gristle from the couple of ribs that had been included with the goat’s shoulder.

Tyto tossed the fat into the hot cauldron, and soon it started to sizzle, filling the kitchen with a wonderful smell, which got even better once he started adding the onion and garlic Kabru was just finished chopping. They worked amiably together, Kabru peeling and cutting vegetables, and Tyto dropping handful after handful of them into the cookpot. He’d add the broth last, after all the other ingredients had a chance to brown.

“Throw the rest of the vegetables in here once it’s ready, then add the meat,” Tyto instructed, slapping the side of the cauldron with his palm lightly. The sound it made was far from bell-like, but it did produce a dull sort of bong that he felt in his bones.

“Got it,” Kabru said, flicking a bit of turnip peel off his knife blade and into the bucket of scraps on the floor. “I’ll be done with this part soon.”

Tyto gathered up the dried herbs that he’d set aside for tonight’s meal, and began to break them down using his mortar and pestle. Peppercorns, rosemary, thyme, marjoram… The kitchen was starting to heat up from the fire under the cauldron, and the two of them working side by side. Much to Tyto’s embarrassment, the steady, rhythmic action of the pestle in his hand, and the occasional view he had of Kabru’s bare forearms had his mind drifting in an indecent direction. There was sweat shining on Kabru’s brow. Tyto tried not to stare.

Of course, having sex with Kabru wasn’t a regular occurance, but even if it was infrequent, Tyto didn’t have an active sex life outside of those encounters. Kabru was the first person he’d done it with in something like five years. Before that, the last time had been in a sauna in Kahka Brud. Tyto didn’t even know what the other man’s name had been, they hadn’t really talked enough for it to matter, and Tyto had been too embarrassed to ask.

But most of the time with Kabru, they didn’t really have actual sex. Usually it was Kabru, dragging Tyto off to a dark corner of the inn and going down on his knees, using his mouth on Tyto, or taking each other’s members in hand and rutting until they reached mutual completion. Twice, they’d fucked properly, and Tyto still had no clue what he’d done to earn that kind of attention, or what he might do to earn it again. Frankly he had no idea how he’d earned Kabru’s mouth on his cock or his hand down the front of his trousers either, and when he asked, Kabru insisted he was just helping him out because they were friends.

If that was the sort of thing Kabru regularly did for all of his friends, maybe that was why he was so damn popular… No. Tyto was pretty sure that Kabru didn’t actually have as much sex as it seemed like he was having. There weren’t enough hours in the day for it to be physically possible, and probably Tyto would have seen more fights over him if he really was fucking all the people that he flirted with. There would be more gossip. Merini was a small island, everybody knew everybody else’s business… and while people knew about Kabru, sex wasn’t usually the first thing they talked about when the lad came up in conversation. He was just promiscuous, not a professional harlot.

It still left Tyto wondering, why was Kabru giving him that sort of attention at all? He’d certainly never flirted with the lad, or made any advances, he wouldn’t even know how if he’d wanted to. It’d be ridiculous of him to try, like a swineherd thinking he had a chance with a prince. Kabru was much too pretty, too desirable, and too noble to waste his time with an old man like him. It genuinely felt like there was no rhyme or reason to Kabru’s behavior except that… Maybe, possibly, he was fond of Tyto as well?

The thought seemed ludicrous, but every time Tyto found himself wondering about their relationship, it was the only conclusion he could come to that made even a little bit of sense. For some reason, Kabru liked him enough that he kept doing these things with him.

Maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it… Tyto thought, watching Kabru dump the rest of the vegetables into the cauldron. Maybe he’s lonely, and wants someone to take care of him…

Kabru switched to working on the goat, using Tyto’s sharpest knife to separate the leg from the shoulder, pulling the limb off and setting it aside. The lad’s knife skills really were top-notch, the only other person Tyto had ever seen use a blade that way was the island’s butcher when she was in a hurry on market day. Tyto found himself momentarily distracted just watching the way Kabru’s hands moved as he switched from knife to kitchen saw, to cleaver and wooden mallet, back to knife. The lad was strong, confident, quick, and it seemed like he could do anything he put his mind to.

Despite the way Tyto babied Kabru at times, he knew he was extremely competent. His skills with people were obviously his greatest asset, but Tyto knew that he was also a formidable fighter. He’d seen it himself on the handful of occasions where Kabru had broken up fights, or forcefully ejected drunks from the inn.

He really was a fine man, skilled in so many different ways, hard-working and driven. Kabru deserved someone like a wealthy lord in a manor somewhere, with a huge library of books, jewelry and fancy clothes. Or a scholar, someone who would understand all the things Kabru was talking about when the boy started discussing magic and science. Or a diplomat, who would have so much use for Kabru’s people skills, who would take him around the world and introduce him to lords and ladies, kings and queens.

That was the sort of person, the sort of life that Kabru deserved. A middle-aged innkeeper like Tyto couldn’t give him any of that. The best Kabru could hope for with him was a kitchen full of food, a warm bed, a nice set of clothes to wear on holidays, and a life of hard labor.

Tyto returned his attention to the simmering soup on the stove. Using his ladle, he carefully removed the bundle of cheesecloth that he’d packed with small bones, and undesirable scraps of meat and vegetables. What was left would have been good feed for pigs, but there weren’t many on the island anymore. He emptied the cloth pouch into the rubbish bucket with Kabru’s vegetable peels and bits of bone and tendon that weren’t worth cooking. He’d dump it all out next to the back step before locking up for the night, and it would be gone by morning thanks to the island’s dogs and cats.

Kabru had separated all of the bones out from the goat and most of the meat that went into the stew would be attached to that bone, boiled until it was tender enough to fall off. The rest of the meat was from little scraps from all over the carcass that weren’t big enough to make a roast, but enough to chop up and add to a stew. Of course there were always a few choice cuts, juicy and tender meat, and whether you got any of that in your bowl was just a matter of luck… Though Tyto had certainly been guilty of fishing out those good bits when he was serving dinner, to make sure they got into Kabru’s bowl.

For some reason, he likes me, Tyto thought, chewing his lower lip. He deserves better, but maybe, if he needs someone to take care of him… Maybe I could be the one to do it?

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After making sure that all of the tenants that he expected to return for the night were home, Tyto checked that the doors and windows were all properly latched and began putting out the lanterns.

His last stop before heading to his own bed was the cellar, where he hesitated at the door for a moment before knocking.

“Come in,” Kabru said. He was sitting at the table he used as his desk, and he’d clearly been in the middle of writing something. The boy had immaculate handwriting, Tyto thought. Probably because of the fancy elven schooling he’d had.

“I forgot to tell you, some of your friends were looking for you earlier today,” Tyto said, setting his lantern down on the table. “There was a pretty black-haired tallman girl with them.”

“Ah, I’m sorry I missed them,” Kabru replied, carefully tapping the excess ink off of his quill before setting it down on a bit of scrap paper. “The black-haired girl - that’s Rinsha. She’s agreed to join my party on our next dungeon excursion.”

“Oh good. Is she a healer?” Tyto asked. He knew that Kabru’s group had been expanding steadily, but they were short on magic users.

“Combat mage,” Kabru corrected him with a bright smile. Tyto stared at him in disbelief for a moment.

“You’re joking,” Tyto said flatly. That skinny little girl was a fighter? Tyto knew his perception of other people’s size might be skewed since he came from a mixed family, but the black-haired girl seemed much too delicate to be using combat magic. Seemed like she’d shrivel up into nothing after casting a single fireball.

“No, she’s amazing, she taught herself and she’s very good,” Kabru said with such enthusiasm that Tyto found himself mirroring the lad’s smile. “I’ve known her for a long time, it just took awhile to convince her to join us.”

“Your party’s really shaping up,” Tyto ceded to Kabru’s authority on the matter. “You going into the dungeon again soon?”

“Yes,” Kabru said. Then an awkward silence settled between them as Tyto tried to think of how to say what he’d really come down here to say, and Kabru watched him expectantly.

“But we haven’t set a date yet, I’m still waiting to hear back from someone...Was there something else you needed to talk to me about?” Kabru asked.

“No, well… Yes, sort of,” Tyto hemmed and hawed, embarrassed by what he was about to say. He was awful at confrontation. “I know you’re busy, and I don’t want to be a bother…”

“You’re never a bother, Mr. Casari,” Kabru insisted earnestly. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well, it’s just… It’s fine if your friends are down here in the cellar while you’re here, but I’m really not comfortable with them poking around the supplies when you’re not with them. Could you please make sure they understand? They’re welcome to wait in the great room in the future, of course.”

It wasn’t even that Tyto was a mistrustful person, but as an innkeeper, he had a legal obligation to his renters to keep the inn safe. If someone was robbed of their belongings while Tyto was holding them, he would have to pay them back double what it was worth, and that wasn’t even considering the damage it would do to his reputation.

“Oh! Of course,” Kabru said without hesitation. “I didn’t realize they’d been in here... I’ll let them know not to do it again. I’m sorry, that must have been awkward for you.”

Tyto chuckled and shifted his weight where he stood. “A little bit. I came down here to clean, and suddenly there’s a whole bunch of people I don’t really know, sitting around, talking about you… I ran off instead of saying anything.”

“You ran off?! But it’s your inn!” Kabru said with a startled laugh.

“I didn’t know what to say!” Tyto insisted, and now he was laughing too. “I know I must seem ridiculous to you, but I was too embarrassed to say a word! ‘Who are you, and what are you doing in my basement? Get out of here!’ I’d feel like an orc.”

“Those would all be appropriate things to say,” Kabru said, a note of mirth still in his voice. “What do you imagine they’d reply? ‘No, this is our cellar now, you get out’?”

“Well, if I don’t say anything, I don’t have to worry about that, now do I?” Tyto chuckled.

“I’m really sorry,” Kabru apologized again, his attitude sobering. “You’re right that they shouldn’t be down here without me. And I really appreciate that you’ve trusted me to stay in your cellar all this time.”

“I couldn’t run the inn without you,” Tyto said earnestly. “With how much you help out, sometimes I feel guilty charging you for rent at all. Seems like I should be paying you.”

“That’s because you’re a nice guy. Anyone else on this island would charge me five times as much for a room that’s even smaller. And I like helping you out. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Did Kabru really consider them friends, or was that just something he said to be polite? “I, ah, I suppose we are?”

“Friends do each other favors,” Kabru went on. “But there’s no need to keep score.” Something in Kabru’s expression changed, it seemed like the lad was considering Tyto, and weighing his options. The scrutiny made Tyto’s face feel hot.

“Well… I guess that’s… true…”

“Tyto,” Kabru said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Is there another reason you came down to see me tonight?”

Tyto felt his stomach drop nervously as Kabru teased him. He’d just wanted to say goodnight to the lad, and mention the incident with his friends, and, well, maybe since they were alone, it was always possible that Kabru might do something…

Kabru only ever approached him sexually when they were alone, and if Kabru did something, then maybe, Tyto could get up the courage to say something, to offer to take care of the lad properly, tell Kabru how fond he was of him… Tyto couldn’t keep looking at Kabru. The ground by his feet seemed the best alternative to avoid those bewitching blue eyes.

“Um, well--”

“It’s been a while since I helped out with that, hasn’t it?” Kabru asked impishly, and though Tyto wasn’t looking at him, he could hear the smile in Kabru’s voice. He was having fun playing with him.

Tyto was startled when Kabru stood up from his chair and grasped him by the front of his belt. He was unceremoniously dragged over towards Kabru’s bed, where the lad sat down and smiled up at him, still gripping him by the belt as if to keep him from escaping. Tyto’s heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of his chest.

“I’m sorry, you must have been lonely, but I’ve just been so busy--”

“Y-you don’t have to unless you want--”

“I know. I do want to. I like taking care of you.” Kabru’s expression seemed so genuinely warm and affectionate that it made Tyto’s heart ache like a bruise. He dearly wanted this sort of attention from Kabru. The lad unbuckled Tyto’s belt and pulled him in closer, and Tyto stumbled forward awkwardly, body stiff with tension. His shins bumped against the edge of the bed and he ended up with his hands on Kabru’s shoulders to steady himself. Kabru felt warm to the touch.

“We’re friends, and I like you. Why shouldn’t I enjoy doing this with you?”

Tyto couldn’t think of anything smart to say to that, but he was having trouble thinking of anything dumb to say either, with the way Kabru’s clever hands were undoing the buttons on his trousers. Kabru looked exactly like Tyto imagined a fox sneaking into a henhouse would, as the boy tugged down his breeches and pulled out Tyto’s cock. Tyto was already half hard, just from the thrill of having Kabru’s attention on him like this.

“And it’s not like you have anyone else helping you with this, do you?” Kabru asked sweetly, as he started to stroke Tyto in his fist. The sight and sensation of it made Tyto’s mouth feel dry, and his hands tightened their grip on Kabru’s shoulders.

“Do you have someone else?” Kabru asked again, one shapely brow raised curiously. Although Kabru slept around liberally, Tyto had never heard of the lad knowingly breaking up an existing relationship. He was sure that if he had a fiancee or a lover Kabru would have never gotten involved with him this way.

“Oh! N-no,” Tyto stammered. There was nowhere he could look right now except at Kabru, his hand curled around Tyto’s cock, thumb playing with the tip. Tyto swallowed hard and shook his head. “No, just--I was just thinking.”

“You think too much, Tyto,” Kabru said fondly, his hand resuming a steady rhythm. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Before Tyto had a chance to say anything to that, Kabru scooted himself off the edge of the bed and onto the floor, kneeling at Tyto’s feet as his mouth engulfed his cock. He began bobbing his head slowly back and forth, and the way those soft lips and tongue felt stroking along his length dragged a pitiful groan out of Tyto. He quickly covered his mouth to try and muffle the sound.

Tyto never got the impression that Kabru was anything but enthusiastic when they did this. Whether that was true or not, he made Tyto believe that he wanted to be here, and that alone made Tyto feel like he’d inhaled hot coals. That heat ached inside of him and slowly radiated outwards, coaxed to the surface by Kabru’s demanding gaze, and even more demanding mouth.

Kabru’s eyes always seemed so impossibly blue paired with his dark face, ringed by those long, black lashes. It reminded Tyto of staring into a cloudless sky. It wasn’t just his looks though. He knew that Kabru wasn’t the innocent creature he seemed at first glance. Kabru always knew exactly what he was doing, and Tyto enjoyed watching it from afar, but it was intimidating to be a target at the center of it.

Kabru pulled his mouth off of Tyto’s cock after a little while, and smiled up at him sweetly. “Sit down, old man, I can feel your legs shaking.”

Were his legs shaking? Tyto honestly couldn’t tell. Every nerve in his body felt hyper-focused on Kabru’s mouth. He mumbled something that must have sounded like an apology, because Kabru stroked the back of his thigh and whispered “It’s fine.”

Kabru tugged impatiently on Tyto’s belt, and that was enough to get him moving - he turned and sat down hard on the edge of the bed, and Kabru situated himself between Tyto’s spread thighs. One of his hands grasped Tyto’s cock again, and he began stroking it eagerly. Kabru’s spit made it smooth and easy, and Tyto couldn’t stop gasping for breath.

“If you keep doing that, I’m--I’m gonna--”

“That’s okay,” Kabru said brightly, like there was nothing in the world that would please him more. “I want you to.” He took Tyto back into his mouth without delay, hollowing his cheeks as he started to suckle on him.

The building heat in his loins made Tyto’s cock stiffen more and more, until the ache became almost unbearable. Every part of his groin felt so hard and tight that he could barely draw breath. Then Kabru’s tongue, which had been circling around his cockhead over and over did it just once more, a sensation that was soft as silk, and that sent Tyto over the edge. All that heat and pleasure rushed through him so hard and fast that it left him trembling and breathless where he sat. Kabru swallowed his seed down without hesitation, something that never failed to make Tyto blush. He really didn’t mind doing that?

Gradually Tyto realized he had one of his hands plastered across his own mouth to try and quiet his helpless cries. He lowered his trembling hand slowly and rested it against the bed, bracing himself as he caught his breath. Kabru had pulled his mouth off of Tyto’s cock and was resting his cheek against his thigh, watching him with a pleased looking smirk.

Kabru was so shameless and free with sex, and Tyto always wondered how much of that was from being raised by elves, and how much was just in his nature as a tallman. Everyone knew that elves were sex-obsessed perverts, but people also said tallmen had voracious sexual appetites… Maybe that was why those two races seemed to get along so well.

“Um,” Tyto said sheepishly. “...Thank you. I, uh--” Tyto was determined that he should return the favor somehow, but he wasn’t sure how to say that. “Maybe I can, um--”

“You could fuck me,” Kabru suggested brightly, climbing into Tyto’s lap like a tiger that thought it was a housecat. Tyto could feel Kabru’s erection pressing against his belly, and he swallowed hard.

“You… You want me to?” Tyto asked, his whole head, including his bald scalp, burning hot with embarrassment and arousal. The idea that he’d done a good enough job the other times that Kabru would consider doing it again was making his recently spent cock ache in anticipation.

“Yes,” Kabru said with a lazy smile. His hips were moving, grinding their bodies together and obviously enjoying himself, if the way his eyelids drooped and his mouth hung open was any indication. Kabru’s erection felt hot against Tyto, even through all their layers of clothes, and the way the younger man’s hips were moving looked and felt exceptionally obscene.

“You’re always so sweet to me,” Kabru murmured, his arms draping themselves around Tyto’s neck as he got closer to him. Coyly, he traced the shape of the scar on Tyto’s temple with one finger. “And your dick’s nice and thick. Feels really good in me.”

Tyto wanted to protest Kabru saying such lewd things out loud, but all that managed to come out of him was a groan, and he tipped his head forward to hide it against Kabru’s chest. The tallman laughed at him, and kissed the top of Tyto’s head which made his heart jump in the most foolish of ways.

It’s nothing. He’s just affectionate. We’re just friends, he told himself.

“Whaaat?” Kabru protested with a warm laugh. “It is! Must be your dwarf blood. I’ve never had a cock that stretched me so nicely before. It’s even thicker than other dwarves.” He was playing with one of Tyto’s ears now, tracing the spiraling shape of it with one fingertip. “So… Will you give me what I want?”

“When have I ever been able to say no to you?” Tyto replied fondly.

Tyto only saw a flash of Kabru’s happy smile before the tallman was ducking his head down in order to kiss him. The height mismatch between them meant that Kabru had to slip off the edge of the bed again, and kneel on the floor in order to get his mouth on Tyto’s, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Of course the lad’s mouth tasted salty and bitter, but Tyto could barely pay attention to that with the way Kabru’s hands cradled his face so sweetly, and the soft, warm feeling of his mouth and tongue against his.

Maybe Kabru kissed everyone like this, maybe that was why people seemed to lose their minds over him, but it made Tyto feel like he wasn’t just a boring old man that Kabru sometimes fucked out of pity. It made him feel like maybe, for whatever reason, Kabru had the smallest crumb of affection for him, and if Tyto could just be good enough, he could have more than crumbs. It made him feel like maybe it wasn’t impossible that he could be… Important to Kabru.

They undressed in a rush, though Tyto found himself fumbling and distracted. It was impossible for him to not admire Kabru as the lad stripped, revealing dark brown skin and lean muscles. Though Kabru kept his face smooth-shaven, his chest, groin and lower arms had a thin coat of black, curly hair that Tyto thought made him look incredibly cute. By dwarven standards he really looked very girlish.

Tyto wondered if the elves had ever made fun of Kabru for the fact that he had hair on his body. He knew it was something they considered ugly. Growing up, Tyto had been picked on for not being hairy enough compared to other boys his age… It made him wonder if even someone as beautiful as Kabru might have things about himself that he was insecure about. He certainly didn’t act like it, but Tyto knew that Kabru kept his true feelings on most things carefully hidden away.

“Having trouble with that?” Kabru asked coyly, smiling as he sat down beside him, completely naked. Tyto had been so caught up in his thoughts and watching Kabru that he was still mostly dressed, his hands caught up in the sleeves of his inside-out tunic.

“No, uh, I’m fine!” Tyto said, face burning as he tugged his hands free. Kabru’s own hands quickly came to his aid - or at least, Tyto was sure that’s what Kabru would have claimed he was doing, when in reality the younger man’s hands were pawing at Tyto’s bare chest, playing with the hair there and fondling him enthusiastically as Tyto struggled to get himself out of his trousers.

“Got distracted watching me?” Kabru asked with a knowing smile, “Or something else on your mind?” Of course he could see right through Tyto.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Tyto murmured, swatting at Kabru’s meddling hands as the lad tried to pinch at his nipples. “Do you want me to keep my trousers on?” he demanded, face red.

“No no, of course not,” Kabru said, laughing. He gave Tyto a playful shove, and Tyto let himself get pushed back onto the narrow bed, his heart starting to hammer again as Kabru tugged his trousers down, and then his underwear, finally freeing him of all of his clothes.

Almost instantly, Kabru had a hand on Tyto’s cock again, pumping it in his fist to try and revive it, and though it felt good, once again Tyto swatted at Kabru’s hands, and pushed the lad back. “Stop that,” he scolded gently, “Let me do something for you.”

“Oh?” Kabru said, his face lighting up with clear interest. “For me?”

“You lay down,” Tyto said, gruff with embarrassment. He swapped positions with Kabru, and the lad obligingly crawled beneath him and stretched out against the bed. Tyto knelt between Kabru’s spread thighs, and as he stared at that pretty body, posed so provokingly, he was paralyzed with indecision.

Tyto didn’t have a plan, he wasn’t good at this and he was never sure what to do next when he got into bed with someone. He wanted to fuck Kabru. Kabru had asked him to fuck him. So he should… He should get Kabru ready…Of course the first thing that popped into Tyto’s mind was the lewd things Kabru had been saying about his body only a moment before.

“Well, since you say I’m…thick,” Tyto said, his face burning as he spoke, “I should make sure you’re… Ready, shouldn’t I?” The words came out sounding like a question even though Tyto hadn’t meant to sound so hesitant.

“I’d like that, make sure I’m ready for you, Tyto,” Kabru echoed back in a honey-sweet voice that made Tyto forget how to breathe for a moment. He had to duck his head down to avoid making any more eye contact with Kabru, because he knew he’d lose his nerve otherwise. When Kabru said his name like that, he felt helpless, like he’d do anything the boy asked of him.

He settled down on his elbows between Kabru’s thighs, and spit into the palm of his hand before he started to poke and prod at his hindquarters. Kabru was all lean muscle and bone, and Tyto felt his heart pinch in his chest at the thought that he wasn’t feeding him well enough.

But no, Tyto was pretty sure he gave his tenants enough food. Kabru was skin and bones because he kept dying in the damn dungeon. Tyto wished he’d stop going into such a dangerous place… But then again, if Kabru wasn’t interested in the dungeon, he’d have no reason to stay on the island.

Tyto rubbed his fingers against Kabru’s puckered hole, and he felt his gut clench at how soft the skin felt against his own rough fingertips. Kabru propped himself up on his elbows, and though Tyto was keeping his own gaze fixed on Kabru’s buttocks, he could feel him watching him.

“That feels nice, you can do more, though,” Kabru purred, and Tyto pressed a fingertip into the lad just to get him to stop talking at him like that. He was a grown man after all! He didn’t need Kabru, who was so much younger, to baby him. But Kabru didn’t seem bothered by the sudden intrusion, it only made him laugh. He reached down and stroked Tyto’s cheek.

“I’m fine, see? You won’t hurt me,” Kabru insisted. Tyto grunted and began to thrust his finger in and out in an effort to prove that he knew that and Kabru didn’t need to tell him.

“Let me cast the lubrication spell, and--” Kabru said, but he must have seen Tyto grimacing, because he stopped mid-sentence. “What’s wrong?” Kabru asked.

“How does it…Make lubrication?” Tyto asked. He couldn’t cast spells so he didn’t know the technicalities of how this or any spell worked, but Kabru had used it the other times they’d fucked, and it had felt… Hot and slimy. It had worked well enough, but Tyto wondered if it was healthy. The spell probably was meant for greasing wheel axles, not sex. Right? Nobody would invent a spell like that just for sex. Well. Maybe elves would… “Maybe we should use real oil instead? We are in the cellar. I have plenty of oil.”

“It draws water and other chemicals out of the body,” Kabru said, “or the air--”

“There’s water in the air?” Tyto interrupted, surprised by the idea. “In the body?” He’d been taught that the body contained blood, bile, and phlegm…Maybe there was water in the humors? That sort of knowledge went beyond the things Tyto had learned in school, but Kabru had a much higher level of education than him…

“Yes,” Kabru replied, smiling. “But it’s not important, if you’d rather use oil, we can use oil. Though don’t take too long fetching it, old man. I’m impatient to have you.”

Tyto clambered off the bed like a pack of hounds was chasing him, and though he felt embarrassed walking around the cellar naked at least his manhood wasn’t fully erect yet. It would have been even more mortifying to have it swinging around while he walked, especially because Kabru was watching him. The boy was laying there, stroking his cock casually like it was the most natural thing in the world to be pleasuring himself while waiting for Tyto.

“Alright, alright, I’m hurrying!”

Tyto found a bottle of olive oil that was mostly used up, and climbed back to the empty space between Kabru’s spread thighs. He poured a generous amount of oil into his palm, and then stopped suddenly, at a loss for what to do with the uncorked bottle he was holding. Kabru clearly understood his predicament because the lad laughed at him again, but also reached out to take the bottle.

“Give it here,” Kabru said. He re-corked the bottle for Tyto, and set it down on the small table beside the bed.

“Thanks,” Tyto muttered, coating his fingers in oil before he resumed what he’d been doing earlier, working one of them inside of Kabru’s tight hole. The oil made things much easier, and Kabru sighed out loud as Tyto began to open him up.

“Does that feel good?” Tyto asked, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“Yes,” Kabru said, “And you’re right. Real oil does feel better than the lubricant spell. The spell is just so convenient. I probably use it more than I should.”

That statement made Tyto’s imagination almost run off with him, as he thought of all the possible circumstances where Kabru was using magic for sex, but Tyto forced himself to stay in the moment. He didn’t want to just get Kabru ready for him, he wanted to do something for Kabru. He wanted to make the lad feel good. As good as Kabru made him feel.

Tyto steadily pumped his finger in and out of Kabru while he considered what to do next. The other times they’d had sex, Kabru had done all the preparations himself, much to Tyto’s mortification and secret delight. It had been embarrassing to admit that he wasn’t sure how to do all this, but it had also been incredibly exciting to see the lad working three fingers into his own body, before telling Tyto to take over, to fuck him.

Tyto had more than once had a dirty dream that focused on that exact memory.

“You can--” Kabru started to say, and Tyto looked up when he suddenly stopped talking. Kabru was holding one hand up, palm towards the sky, and he curled his first two fingers towards himself, as if he were beckoning someone to him. “--Like that. With your fingers.”

“You’ve only taken the one,” Tyto muttered, his ears burning as he looked back down at Kabru’s groin, and twisted his hand around to try and imitate what Kabru had shown him. He was startled when the simple movement drew a moan from the other man.

He looked back up at him, saw he was smiling, but in a hungry way that once again reminded Tyto of foxes and henhouses, except Tyto felt like he was the hen in the metaphor, even if Kabru was the one about to get fucked.

“You’ll give me more in a minute, won’t you?” Kabru asked, and Tyto forced himself to look down at what he was doing with his hands again. Every time he thought his face couldn’t get any hotter, Kabru always did or said something that made him feel like he was trapped in a furnace, and the temperature just kept going up.

“Yes, yes. Um, like this?” he asked, curling his finger experimentally. He was startled when he felt Kabru’s body tighten around his finger. He remembered feeling him squeeze around his cock like that when they’d been fucking, but this felt completely different.

“Y-yeah,” Kabru said, and though Tyto didn’t look up he could hear the smile in his voice. “Keep doing that.”

Tyto focused all of his attention on what he was doing with his finger, curling and uncurling it carefully. Slow seemed better than fast, and there was a spot that made Kabru tense up every time Tyto brushed past it. Kabru was starting to gasp quietly in time with the movements of Tyto’s finger, and a quick glance made him realize the lad’s erection was drooling a little puddle against his belly. The thought of Kabru being that excited because of Tyto made his mouth feel dry as a desert, and he swallowed hard.

Though he knew Kabru wanted more, he still felt awfully tight around Tyto’s finger, especially when he kept clenching, and for a moment Tyto wasn’t sure what to do. Would another finger right now be too much? The lad kept asking for more, but Tyto’s hands were a lot thicker and meatier than Kabru’s. He dared to look up at Kabru again, forcing himself not to look away immediately, and as he watched the way his erection seemed to twitch along with the lad’s pulse, he thought, ah, to hell with it.

Tyto shifted his weight and draped one arm over Kabru’s hip, and lowered his head to start licking at his cock. Kabru made a startled noise and his hips jerked up, but Tyto’s weight kept him stuck in place. Tyto was nowhere near as skilled with his mouth as Kabru was, but he’d sucked a couple of cocks in his time, and Kabru’s seemed so pretty and in need of attention, it was a shame not to do something about it.

“Oh,” Kabru said, with a giddy little laugh, as Tyto used his other hand to guide the head of his cock to his lips. “You’re spoiling me.”

“You deserve it,” Tyto mumbled as he started to lick at the tip, ignoring the bitter, musky taste. The way Kabru kept gasping cutely made it easy. “You deserve somebody to use nice oil, and to take care of you.”

Kabru didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and Tyto took that as a cue to keep going. He kept curling his finger inside of Kabru’s body, and eventually he slipped his dripping cock into his mouth and started to suck. Doing both things at the same time proved challenging, and so Tyto did one for a bit, and then switched his attention to the other, and if Kabru minded, he didn’t complain.

“Oh, fuck,” Kabru muttered, and Tyto glanced up at him without stopping what he was doing. The lad was swearing, true, but it sounded like a good sort of swearing, and seeing the way Kabru had thrown his head back, the way his whole upper body arched up off the bed confirmed that Kabru was enjoying himself. Tyto could see how dramatically his chest rose and fell with each gasping breath he took, could see how the muscles in Kabru’s arms were flexing as his hands kneaded at the bedsheets restlessly. “Please don’t stop, keep doing that--”

Tyto swallowed hard, feeling his own cock stiffening in sympathy. Of course, he still had Kabru’s manhood in his mouth, so his reflexive action made Kabru whine in a way that sounded too damn good. Kabru never made a lot of noise during sex, but what little noise he did make really drove Tyto crazy every time. The thought that he was making Kabru feel good always lit a fire in his belly.

After a while, Tyto managed to worm a second finger into Kabru, stroking the two inside of him together, turning Kabru’s soft gasping breaths into little moans. Then it was finally Tyto’s turn to laugh, when he managed to suck with his mouth and curl his fingers at just the right time together, and Kabru swore and squirmed violently beneath him. Luckily Tyto outweighed Kabru by a good amount, and that made it easy enough for him to hold him down and keep doing it, again and again, drawing increasingly shrill moans from Kabru.

Eventually Tyto had mercy on him, and pulled his mouth off Kabru’s cock to gasp for breath. “Feeling good?” he asked, relishing an opportunity to feel confident and capable.

“Please,” Kabru whined, and Tyto’s heart kicked at his ribs at the sight and sound of him acting so needy. Kabru’s normally bright eyes looked dark, unfocused, and there was a sheen of sweat on his skin. “Please, I really want you, Tyto.”

Tyto couldn’t resist that, and he wiped the spit from his mouth with the back of his hand, and crawled up on top of Kabru in a rush. Kabru’s hands came up to touch him eagerly, he grabbed at Tyto’s biceps, his chest, and when Tyto kissed him, those arms immediately went around his neck and pulled him in close as Kabru kissed him back hungrily.

The height difference meant they couldn’t keep kissing though, and eventually Kabru pushed Tyto back with both hands. “Fuck me,” he demanded, as they both lay there panting for breath. “Let me roll over, and--”

The other times they’d done this, Kabru had been turned away from Tyto: once on his belly on the bed and another time bent over the trunk at the foot of the bed. Of course both times had been incredible, or at least that was how it had seemed to Tyto, but no matter how good it felt, a part of him really wanted to try doing it face to face, so he could see Kabru’s reaction, so he could watch Kabru touching himself…

“No,” Tyto said, his breath catching in his chest from the fear of starting a fight. “Let’s do it like this.”

“But--” Kabru started to say, a hint of confusion, and then displeasure on his face that came and went so fast, Tyto wasn’t sure if he’d really seen it at all. Kabru then seemed to settle on pleading, looking up at Tyto with big, wet eyes that reminded him of a homeless kitten. Even though he could tell Kabru was doing it on purpose, Tyto felt guilty for being the cause of that expression one way or another.

“I like it better that way,” Kabru said, playing with one of Tyto’s ears, tracing the shape of it with his index finger, his tone coy and coaxing. “I want you to give it to me really hard and--”

“I want to look at you,” Tyto blurted out, not knowing if that would work to persuade Kabru or not, but hoping the lad would at least understand Tyto wasn’t just trying to ruin his fun for no reason. “I…want to watch you feeling good. I want to see your face.”

Kabru seemed surprised by that, and after staring at Tyto for a moment with an unreadable expression, Tyto thought maybe he saw a hint of bashfulness. Was Kabru embarrassed by the idea of Tyto watching him that way?

“Is that so?” Kabru asked, a crooked smile on his lips. “You really want that…?”

“I do, I do,” Tyto rushed to reassure him.

“Well… Alright then,” Kabru said, as the hand on Tyto’s face ended up rubbing the top of his head, before Kabru patted him there a couple of times, like his skull was a drum. “Then get to work, old man!” Kabru punctuated his orders with a final slap to Tyto’s scalp; it seemed like Kabru’s usual confidence was back in full force.

Tyto moved back until he was kneeling between Kabru’s legs again, and after a moment of consideration while stroking his manhood, he decided he needed more oil. What was left on his hand after fingering Kabru wasn’t nearly enough.

“Could you give me some oil?” he asked.

“You do need more polish for a weapon like that,” Kabru agreed with an amused, leering grin, and Tyto felt exposed under the force of it. Maybe that was why Kabru was shy about being watched. It did feel vulnerable. Tyto hoped that he wasn’t asking for too much, wanting to have sex like this.

Kabru stretched across the bed and snatched up the bottle of oil from earlier, and poured some into Tyto’s waiting palm. Tyto bit his lip as he spread it onto himself while watching Kabru put the bottle away. Kabru’s long, slim legs were splayed apart for Tyto, and he was looking up at him expectantly, his cock hard and ruddy against his belly, the shine of oil peeking from the crease of his buttocks.

Tyto had to remind himself to breathe.

He leaned in over Kabru, braced one hand against the bed and used the other to guide his cock, while Kabru lifted his hips helpfully. The feeling of Kabru’s hole stretching open around him was so incredibly good that it was hard to control himself and Tyto pushed into him forcefully.

“Sorry,” Tyto gasped, and Kabru grunted in response, and pulled one of his legs up towards his chest.

“Get my leg over your shoulder,” Kabru ordered him breathlessly, and Tyto was quick to obey. He grabbed Kabru’s thigh just under the knee and pushed until Kabru was able to hook it over his shoulder. This spread Kabru much wider open and they came together in a hurry, Tyto’s body settling in the crook of Kabru’s thighs, his gut against the lad’s flat stomach, his hands braced against the bed, his cock buried in him to the root.

It felt wonderful, and though Tyto knew he should probably give Kabru a second to breathe, to get used to being filled, he couldn’t stop himself from moving. It was like his hips had a mind of their own.

“Sorry,” Tyto apologized again, “Gods, you’re so tight, a-and soft--” His face was burning with embarrassment at his lack of self-control. He tried not to thrust too hard or too fast, rocking his hips against Kabru steadily, the flimsy wooden bed frame rocking and creaking with his movements.

Thankfully, Kabru was no delicate flower, he took it all without so much as a yelp, throwing his head back and grabbing at the bed with both hands as Tyto started to fuck him.

“It’s fine!” Kabru gasped out louder than he’d probably meant to, and Tyto found it deeply endearing when the lad clapped a hand over his mouth to quiet himself just like Tyto had done earlier. Neither of them wanted to be overheard by the other tenants. Kabru groaned into his palm, and Tyto felt the leg over his shoulder squeezing at him, pulling him in. “Y-you’re fine,” Kabru hissed out between his fingers.

Tyto had to muster all of his self control not to just pound away into the lad at that point, and he tried, he really tried, to keep his wits enough that he could enjoy the sight of Kabru this way. The lad was arching his body up off the bed again, like before, but now he was tight as a bowstring, where before he’d looked relaxed and lazy. Tyto wasn’t really sure which version he liked better, but he liked how desperate Kabru looked right now. Like Tyto was giving him too much, overwhelming him.

“F-faster, harder,” Kabru gasped, looking down at Tyto with a pleading expression. Well, maybe it’s not too much after all, Tyto thought, amused by Kabru’s shameless gluttony.

Tyto hunkered down on top of him, bracing his weight on his elbows. The leg hooked over his shoulder slipped down, wound up wrapped around Tyto’s waist as he started to move more vigorously. Tyto wanted to give Kabru everything he was asking for. Out of Kabru’s choices, Tyto might not have been the most handsome, the youngest or the wealthiest, but he was determined to be the hardest working. He’d fuck the lad just how he wanted, he’d make him feel good.

Because of their height difference, Tyto’s head only reached Kabru’s chest. Kabru’s arms went around Tyto’s neck to try and hang onto him, but his hands kept slipping against Tyto’s sweaty skin. He wound up grabbing Tyto by both ears, which startled Tyto and made him laugh. Kabru was pulling rather roughly, but it was impossible to mind when everything else felt so damn good.

“Tyto, Tyto--” Kabru was gasping his name in an urgent way that made Tyto speed up even more, slapping his body between Kabru’s thighs desperately now. “Yes, fuck, don’t stop, just like that, please--!”

Tyto could feel Kabru start to move under him, restless limbs pushing and pulling helplessly as the lad tried to squirm away from the pleasure. Tyto could feel how Kabru was starting to tense up, clenching around Tyto’s cock, making it harder to thrust in and out of him. So Tyto redoubled his efforts to keep pounding into him just as hard, and Kabru gave a startled wail beneath him. His legs latched around Tyto’s waist, and squeezed like a vice as Kabru came.

The sight and feeling of it was all too much for Tyto, and he was only able to give a few more thrusts himself before he was doubled over on top of Kabru, his face flattened against the lad’s belly as he groaned, spilling his seed deep inside that tight, quivering body. They lay there holding each other for a long, straining moment, trembling as the high of their mutual pleasure ebbed away.

Eventually Kabru’s legs slipped off from around Tyto and he was able to roll off of the lad with a sigh. He nearly toppled over the edge of the narrow bed entirely, but Kabru dove after him and threw an arm around Tyto’s chest, saving him at the last moment.

“Careful there, old man!” Kabru said, laughing, his head falling against Tyto’s shoulder.

Though the clumsiness of the moment made Tyto laugh too, he couldn’t help but feel a great warm swell of emotion at the way Kabru was hanging onto him tightly as he helped tug him to the center of the bed. There wasn’t much room, so Kabru curled against Tyto’s side, and he tried to keep Tyto’s beard out of his face at first, but eventually gave up and just used Tyto’s chest as a pillow regardless, huffing quietly every time bits of beard wound up in his nose or mouth. Laying there, Tyto felt like his heart was knocking against his ribs. He should have caught his breath by now, but somehow he still felt breathless.

“That was good,” Kabru said, sounding pleased with himself, pleased with Tyto. He lifted his head so he could look at Tyto, and his smile was mischievous. “Were you jealous? Is that why you were so energetic?”

The question took Tyto by surprise. For the last however long this had taken, he hadn’t thought of anything but Kabru. He couldn’t even remember who he might be jealous of. His bewildered expression seemed to amuse the lad, because Kabru chuckled.

“Jealous of Rinsha. The ‘pretty dark-haired girl’ that was here looking for me. You mentioned her specifically.”

“No…” Tyto said, his cheeks warming. He wouldn’t call the feeling jealousy, exactly, but… “You just--You seem to be friends with a lot of pretty girls. And handsome men…”

“Most of them are just acquaintances,” Kabru said, patting a hand against Tyto’s chest playfully.

“But we’re friends?” Tyto felt the words escape his mouth before he could think them over. Kabru was looking at him oddly, and suddenly Tyto had no idea what the lad was thinking, which scared him. “I-I mean, earlier, you said--”

“No, you’re right,” Kabru said smoothly, his expression turning relaxed. “We’re friends, Tyto.”

“...I’m glad,” Tyto said, his ears burning.

They lay there quietly for a while longer, Tyto staring up at the exposed beams of the ceiling, thinking about how good it was to lay here with Kabru’s arm draped across his middle, his head resting against his chest… But then he found himself wondering when Kabru would go back to the dungeon again. He hadn’t set a date, but Tyto knew it would be soon. How long would he be down there? A week? A month? And then what? How many times would Kabru descend into the dungeon, and when he finally stopped… What would he do afterwards?

“I’ve been thinking about what you told me about the dungeon,” Tyto said, and Kabru’s fingers started combing through his beard. It tickled, but also felt very nice. Nevertheless, Tyto reached up and put his hand on top of Kabru’s to still it, so the lad stopped distracting him. “...Do you think it’s going to happen soon? The dungeon collapsing?”

“I’m hoping I can stop it, but all the signs are there. It’s getting very unstable,” Kabru said. All the playfulness was gone out of his voice now, which wasn’t surprising to Tyto. Kabru took anything to do with the dungeon extremely seriously. “If I can’t find a way to stabilize the dungeon… Either it will be sealed, or it will collapse and the monsters will escape… Either way, the island’s economy will break down.”

“Do you really think you can stop it?” Tyto asked. He had a lot of faith in Kabru, but at the same time, he’d never heard of a dungeon that had remained perpetually balanced. They all burnt out eventually.

“I can’t promise you anything,” Kabru said grimly, “All I can say is… If the western elves arrive, then it’s probably too late. I’ve failed, and the elves might be able to seal the dungeon… Or it might be another Utaya. If we’re lucky, the only losses will be economic, if we’re not…”

“A lot of people will die,” Tyto said, completing Kabru’s sentence for him.

They both fell quiet.

“...I’m going to sell the inn,” Tyto said, breaking the silence. “My neighbor keeps offering to buy it. I’ll do it, and I’ll move to the mainland with my sister and her family…”

“That’s good,” Kabru replied, and Tyto could hear warmth creeping back into his voice. When he glanced down, he saw what looked like relief on the lad’s face. Was Kabru worried about him? “Even on the off chance that I succeed… It’s dangerous to live near a dungeon. Kahka Brud’s safer. I’d much rather if you were there.”

Kabru was worried about him.

“Um, you know,” Tyto said, rubbing his thumb against the back of Kabru’s hand, where they were touching. “There’s something else I’ve been thinking about…”

“What’s that?”

“Well, it’s just… It gets so damp and cold down here, and sometimes there’s rats--”

“It’s fine! You don’t need to lower my rent any further, I’m happy to pay it as it is--”

“N-no, it’s not about the rent,” Tyto said, fighting down nerves as he tried to find the right words to express himself. “What I'm trying to say is… You don’t have to sleep down here.” Of course Kabru said nothing to that, and no doubt the lad was wondering where the hell he was going with this. Tyto cleared his throat nervously before he continued. “You could… I mean, there’s room in my bed, if you wanted to…”

“Oh,” Kabru said, clearly startled. Tyto didn’t dare to look at him, he fixed his eyes on the ceiling, held his breath, and waited.

“Oh… No, no, I’m really fine down here,” Kabru said, and his voice was casual, friendly, but Tyto could feel the way the warmth had gone from it. The ache of disappointment quickly numbed his heart as he watched Kabru pull away from him and sit up at the edge of the bed. “But thank you for offering. It’s very sweet of you, Mr. Casari.”

You could come with me, Tyto thought helplessly, watching Kabru’s back as the lad used the corner of the bedsheet to clean the mess on his belly. You could come to the mainland, and leave the dungeon to other people. You could come with me.

………………………………·• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •·………………………………

“For a sum of Fifteen-hundred Korona, Tytus Casari of Merini transfers his property to Rickhard Oldom of Bonnario.” The court clerk recited, and her scribe carefully inked the words onto the vellum that was stretched out on the desk between them.

Rickhard handed the clerk a leather pouch, and she emptied the contents carefully onto a scale in order to check the weight of the coins. Satisfied that the sum was correct, she removed two stacks of coins for tax, and put the rest of the coins back into the pouch before handing it to Tyto.

“This court has found the property in good condition and free of debt. It consists of the parcel of land located at number 10, Caseum street, and contains the stone house and stable known commonly as the Casari Inn,” the court clerk continued. “Formerly the dairy.”

It felt unreal to Tyto, to be standing here in the public courthouse, selling the home he’d grown up in, that his family had lived in for generations, but he was certain that he was doing the right thing. After all, was it really his home anymore, now that he was the only one living in it? Home was more than dirt and stone, more than buildings.

“This final concord is witnessed by me, Asta Storli, on this day, the first of Aprilis in the 87th year of the reign of King Ox-Cleaver IV. Gentlemen, please sign your names on each segment of the document.”

The scribe cast a drying spell to ensure that the ink wouldn’t smudge, and Tyto and Rickhard took turns signing it. The scribe took a set of shears, cut the deed into three segments, and the clerk stamped her official wax seal onto each part, one for the court record, one for Tyto, and one for Rickhard.

They both thanked the clerk, took their part of the deed, and made their way out of the busy courthouse together.

“What made you decide to finally sell?” Rickard asked, once they reached the street. “Get tired of being an innkeeper?”

“Not necessarily. I like being an innkeeper well enough,” Tyto said, scratching his beard absently. “To tell you the truth… The dungeon started to make me feel uneasy.” Rickard laughed at him, which didn’t surprise Tyto.

“Don’t tell me you let that boy from Vestra bend your ear!” Rickard exclaimed. “With his stories about dungeons collapsing and monsters rampaging through the streets. That sort of thing doesn’t happen in a civilized place like Merini.”

Tyto wasn’t going to argue about it with Rickhard, but he wasn’t sure that the other man was right. From how Kabru described his homeland, though it was undeniably exotic, it didn’t seem like a barbarian city at all. If anything, it had a lot in common with Merini. A small, physically isolated village with a booming economy, and a constant flow of outsiders looking to strike it rich, and leave. Displacing local people with folks that were just trying to profit off of the dungeon boom.

Rickhard had come to Merini when the dungeon first opened to the surface, and he’d bought three houses, which he’d converted into lodging for travelers. One of his properties was the house next to the Casaris. He wasn’t a bad neighbor but Tyto had to admit when Rickhard started talking about investments, finances, and profit margins, it went above his head. He was sure Rickhard was a good landlord in that he made a good profit doing it but he didn’t think he would want to rent from someone like him.

“Next you’ll tell me nobody should live in Bonnario because of the volcanos. Or Maalinus because of the earthquakes. There’s risks no matter where you live.”

Of course Rickhard and many others didn’t take Kabru’s warnings seriously. Tyto really didn’t know why he was. Maybe he was too easily frightened, or maybe his soft spot for the lad made him weak to his pleading. In the end it didn’t really matter, he’d already gone through with it. Now all that was left to do was pack up and leave.

“That’s true, I suppose,” Tyto said, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. “I also wanted to be closer to my family.”

“You have been on your own ever since your sister left for the mainland,” Rickhard conceded. “That’s hard. I know I wouldn’t want to stay here if I didn’t have my wife with me.”

Of course, though the dungeon and his family were the main reasons Tyto was leaving Merini, they weren’t the only thing.

Ever since his last tryst with Kabru, the lad had been avoiding him. He still lived in his cellar, but he came and went at odd hours, he skipped meals, and he spent most of his time elsewhere. Tyto rarely saw him and when he did Kabru was polite but distant. He certainly didn’t flirt with Tyto anymore. Clearly, whatever they’d had between them was over now. Tyto felt foolish for thinking it could have ended any other way, but it had been impossible not to hope when he’d wanted it so badly.

The loss made leaving Merini feel like an easy choice.

“You’ve been my neighbor the entire time I’ve lived here. It’ll be strange not having you around.”

“It’ll be strange to leave,” Tyto agreed. “I’ve only been to Kahka Brud twice, and now I’m going to live there.”

………………………………·• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •·………………………………

When Tyto arrived at the harbor that afternoon, there was a foreign ship in the process of docking. He didn’t have time to study it closely, but he saw that it had an elongated design, bright white sails, and there was a bird carved into the bow. Because it was unfamiliar, it made him uneasy, but he had his own business to attend to and no time for gawking.

It was only once all his cargo was loaded, and they were casting off that Tyto was able to turn his attention back to the mystery of the foreign ship. As they exited the harbor, he realized with a start that the ship wasn’t alone. He counted more than a dozen matching ships anchored out in the bay, like a flock of vultures waiting patiently to descend on the island.

As his small ship navigated between the fleet of foreign vessels, Tyto saw that they were crewed entirely by elves. Remembering Kabru’s warning, he felt dread settle in his guts. He hoped that the lad would be alright.

………………………………·• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •·………………………………

Life in Kahka Brud was good.

Tyto and his sister Livia had always been close, and sharing a home with her again after five years apart was wonderful. Tyto had four nephews and a niece that he adored, he got along well with his brother-in-law, and the house was big and beautiful, with more than enough room for everyone in it. Tyto felt proud of the fact that his hard work on the island had helped make this life possible.

But Tyto felt restless, being idle didn’t suit him, and so it didn’t take long to convince Livia that they should start renting out spare rooms in the house. It would never make the same kind of profit that the inn on the island had, but the little bit of extra money would be a welcome contribution regardless.

As for the island… Well, now nobody was making a profit there anymore.

The morning after Tyto’s departure, the Western elves had created a naval blockade which stopped people traveling to or from Merini. Then two weeks later, a massive earthquake had shaken the region, and the ground split open on the island, creating a chasm so huge that it could be seen from the mainland. Monsters began pouring out.

Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. Nobody Tyto spoke with had any idea what had happened. Rumors were flying wildly. The dwarven and gnomish kingdoms sent boatloads of troops to investigate, and there had been clashes between them and the elves, until a temporary truce was negotiated.

Kahka Brud, being the closest large city, was completely flooded with people in need of lodging. There were soldiers, sailors, diplomats and academics that were there to deal with the crisis, then there were adventurers that had been on their way to Merini, but had been caught up in the elven blockade… And of course when the blockade was lifted, people were abandoning the island in swarms. Tyto hadn’t even realized how many people were on the island until he saw them filling up Kahka Brud’s port.

So it was good that he’d already convinced Livia to start renting out space, because it meant they were ready when suddenly there wasn’t an empty room to spare anywhere in the city. For months they’d had over a dozen people sleeping on blankets in the great room, ten in the hayloft, and five in the spare room they’d cleared out. Tyto had to share a room with his nephews, which made for very tight quarters, but they knew it was only temporary, so nobody minded too much.

As things began to calm down, the demand for temporary housing decreased, and gradually they were all able to reclaim some personal space in the house. Tyto had his own room again, and they only had a few renters left: a couple of people on cots in the great room, and three in the hayloft.

Though Tyto still occasionally felt the sting of loneliness, Livia and her family made it easy to forget about it. He was surrounded by people that loved him, and his days were full of chores and housework that he enjoyed doing. But sometimes he watched his sister with her husband and couldn’t help but yearn for something like what they had. They were happy, they were in love, they had a family. Was it really too late for him to hope for something like that for himself?

Of course, with so many people passing through Kahka Brud, Tyto couldn’t keep himself from searching for familiar faces. He was relieved each time he spotted old friends, neighbors and former tenants, always happy to see that they’d made it off the island safely… But despite hours spent watching at the docks, the one person he wanted to see the most still hadn’t turned up.

Was Kabru still on the island? Had Tyto missed him in the crowds? Or… Had the lad died in the dungeon collapse? The last option was especially troubling for Tyto, and though he tried not to worry about it too much, it nagged at him.

Part of him felt foolish for thinking of Kabru so often. The lad had made his wishes very clear, and they didn’t involve Tyto. Tyto had ruined what little friendship they had by being too forward, asking for more than Kabru was willing to give. It was over, and Tyto ought to move on.

Yet Tyto worried about him anyway. Even if Kabru didn’t want to see him, even if their friendship had become a tense, uncomfortable thing, Tyto still cared about the lad, and it hurt to think of him, alone and suffering. Did you do it? Tyto often found himself wondering. Did you get what you wanted out of the dungeon? Are you happy now? He hoped so. Despite everything, Tyto very much wanted Kabru to find… Whatever it was the lad was looking for.

………………………………·• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •·………………………………

They didn’t have a cow in Kahka Brud, but they did have three goats, and though making goat cheese was different from what Tyto was used to, he’d quickly adapted the family recipes. So now he made a fresh batch of goat cheese every week, enough for the family, their renters, and with a little left over for the neighbors. He had some that he was brining in the cellar, but it would be another week before that was ready.

Sitting on a low stool in the barn, milking one of the goats, Tyto daydreamed about buying a cow. They could afford one if they were frugal, and since the house wasn’t so full anymore, he had time and space to work on other projects. He could make enough cheese to sell… And wouldn’t it be nice, to get back to the profession that his family had cultivated across generations? Some of the children were the right age to start an apprenticeship. Maybe he could teach them… And then he’d have built-in assistants, too.

“Uncle Tyto!” his niece called from the house, raising her voice to be heard above the clattering sound of the back door being thrown open. “There’s a man asking for you!”

“I’ll be there in a minute!” Tyto called back. He was almost done with the goat anyway.

He wondered who it could possibly be as he picked up the pail of milk, made sure the goats were securely fenced in, and that they had feed and water, before he headed back into the house. Tyto hoped it wasn’t Rickhard, he felt guilty for selling to the man right before the dungeon’s collapse, even though Rickhard had all the same warnings that Tyto had.

“Who is it?” he asked his niece in the kitchen, handing her the pail of milk, before changing from his muddy stable boots to his indoor shoes.

“He didn’t say, just that he used to rent from you, that you were friends,” she replied, her face flushed with excitement. “He’s got huge blue eyes!”

Tyto felt his heart jolt in his chest at her description. It couldn’t be Kabru, could it?

He made his way to the great room in an excited rush, and the pounding of his heart only sped further when he saw that it was indeed Kabru, standing by the fireplace with his hands folded behind his back, like no time at all had passed.

“Kabru!” Tyto exclaimed, charging at the lad and grabbing him in a hard embrace. “I was worried sick about you! You’re skin and bone! What--”

“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Casari,” Kabru said, laughing with what seemed like a mix of surprise and joy.

Hearing his name said so formally brought Tyto sharply back to reality, and he quickly released Kabru and took a step away from him. If Kabru was embarrassed by Tyto’s behavior, it didn’t show on his face. Meanwhile, Tyto’s own face was burning.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” Tyto scolded.

“I’ve been too busy for that,” Kabru said, stubborn and unapologetic. Tyto could see the dark shadows under the lad’s eyes, the gauntness of his face, how he had missed spots while shaving, how his hair seemed a bit too long. It was wonderful to see Kabru of course, but it looked like he was working himself much too hard.

“I’m glad that you were able to get off the island when you did,” Kabru continued. “Somehow, we were able to keep anyone from dying… But things have been very chaotic.”

“Well, come on, sit down, I’ll get you something to eat, and you’ll tell me all about it, right?” Tyto replied. The household had only just had breakfast, so Tyto’s mind was already racing ahead, thinking of what he could scrape together in a hurry to feed Kabru, who seemed in desperate need of a good, solid meal.

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” Kabru said, interrupting Tyto’s train of thought. “My party is escorting some sensitive cargo to Sadena, and I can’t keep them waiting.”

Why is he here, then? Tyto wondered.

“I wanted to let you know that I was okay,” Kabru said, and Tyto’s heart gave a valiant little flutter, like a dying bird still trying to fly. He didn’t think Kabru looked okay, but, well, he was alive, which was better than the alternative. “I wanted to see you before I left. I’m really happy that you’re doing so well.”

Had Kabru really wanted to see him? Did he care about him, even if it wasn’t in the way that Tyto had hoped for?

“...I’m happy you came to see me. I really was worried,” Tyto answered eventually, the words feeling heavy as he struggled to voice them. “The next time you’re in Kahka Brud, I hope you’ll come see me. A proper visit, so we can talk and catch up.”

Despite how casual Kabru was acting, Tyto couldn’t help but feel like they were saying a much more final goodbye. The lad might say that he was going to come back, but Tyto had a sinking feeling that he wouldn’t.

“I’d like that,” Kabru said, and Tyto wanted to believe him, even though his gut told him not to.

“Before I go, there’s something I was hoping you could help me with,” Kabru said, and suddenly the lad’s visit was less mysterious. In a way it was a relief to know that Kabru wanted something from him, that his visit was strategic and not personal. At least that made sense. But what could Tyto possibly do for Kabru?

“Anything,” Tyto said, and he meant it.

“Well, I was wondering if you had a room to spare for a friend of mine.”

“Friend?” Tyto echoed, realizing with a start that they weren’t alone in the great room, that there was another dark-skinned man sitting quietly in one of the chairs by the fireplace. He’d no doubt been in the room the entire time they’d been talking, but Tyto hadn’t noticed him at all.

“This is Kaka Floke,” Kabru introduced, “I was hoping that you could take care of him while he’s staying in the city.”

The other man stood up to join their conversation, and Tyto found himself staring in stunned silence as he unfolded himself from the squat dwarven chair like some kind of long-legged river bird. He was the tallest tallman Tyto had ever seen in his life, dressed in fine gnomish clothes that seemed to have been stretched out to fit his frame. His hair was long and dark, and he had the beginnings of a beard on his chin.

“Hullo,” Kaka said quietly, and Tyto instantly recognized that despite his immense height, the other man was young, and shy. The type of tenant that would close himself up in his room and never talk to anybody if he could help it, and that never asked for anything lest he become an inconvenience to others. It was easy to recognize that sort of thing when he saw it in someone else, since he was the same way. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“I-it’s a pleasure to make your, uh, meet you too,” Tyto said awkwardly, stumbling over the formal wording. He turned to Kabru, “Yes, of course I’ll look after him.”

“Thank you,” Kabru said, sounding relieved. “Kaka’s going to be in the city for a few months at least, to oversee the transferring of delicate cargo from the island. It’s a big job.”

“I’m helping my mum and dad with their work,” Kaka explained. “They’re magic researchers.”

“Anyway, I think the two of you will really get along well,” Kabru said, looking immensely pleased with himself. “And I’ll feel better leaving Kaka here, knowing he’s staying with someone I trust.”

Though Tyto still felt like it might be a very long time before he saw Kabru again, somehow he no longer felt like the lad was going to vanish from his life forever. Maybe Kabru didn’t want him in a romantic sense, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care about him at all.

“Alright,” Tyto agreed, “If you wait just a minute, I’ll pack you something to eat on the road, Kabru. And you,” he looked up at Kaka, “Have you eaten yet?”

………………………………·• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– •·……………………………… Partially edited by DoktorGirlfriend and Hergothical, before I gave up, rewrote half of it and didn't let them edit it a second time lmao. Any errors, grammatical or otherwise, are my own. If you enjoying this fic, please reply with a comment, or say something in your tags etc. I love reading them :) Also if you want more Dungeon Meshi content from me, I'm writing a long fic about Mithrun x Kabru. Yes, it's a college AU. Yes, I do a stupid amount of worldbuilding. Show Me How to Get Off the Ground In an attempt to get away from their old lives in the Elven Empire, both Mithrun and Kabru wind up enrolled at Earthdigger University. Mithrun is a military veteran with severe PTSD, trying to express his pain through art. Kabru is a tallman war orphan trying to become a doctor so he can help people, but is that really what he wants in life? When the two meet because Mithrun desperately needs help with his chronic insomnia, can they help each other heal, become friends, and maybe more?

#Dungeon Meshi #Delicious in Dungeon #Kabru #fanfic #mlm

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coreymichaelsmithson · 2 years ago

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Edison’s Medicine

I live in a crooked old farmhouse in rural Tennessee, with a tattooed folksinger and four handicapped dogs. Our house, the oldest in town, was built in 1899, and it stands on the unfashionable end of Main Street, where people don't bother to tidy up their porches and primroses poke from the concrete. The structure rests upon pilings rather than a real foundation, and as a result its central axis has become noticeably skewed, a feature that we're choosing to view as "whimsical" instead of "worrisome". Some of the walls are covered in whitewashed shiplap, others retain ragged remnants of floral wallpaper, and the overall feel is akin to a folk-art collage. Paintings and antiques abound. Tumbleweeds of doghair snag on the chair legs. Spiders haunt the crannies. Daniel, the musician, loves his bric-a-brac, so the majority of available surfaces are crowded with animal figurines, musical instruments, framed sheet music, toys, masks, tools, and heirlooms from his family. An enormous philodendron has colonized one fifth of the kitchen, its tendrils winding between ceramic dogs and fruit bowls. We've hung chandelier prisms in the western windows to cast rainbows across the walls. I've established my painting studio up front, while Daniel has set up his recording studio in the rear bedroom. Our house is full of laughter and music and quips from "ALL ABOUT EVE". It's dusty and cluttered and quite possibly the most peaceful home I have ever known.

McEwen is a town without stoplights. In fact, "town" is a pretty grand appellation for this place, which features three fast-food joints, three gas stations, two banks, two cemeteries, a handful of small businesses, a volunteer fire department, a post office, and maybe a dozen churches. City Hall doubles as the police station and municipal court. The hairdresser on Main Street is a real hoot; she's a chatty and charming New Yorker who collects vintage hats, and she'll even shave my back for an extra five bucks. There's a darling little deli that sells local goods ("Memories & Marmalade"), a weekly farmer's market, and a pair of decent antique shops. On the highest hilltop stands a water tower, a gleaming white sentry that looks especially dramatic under thunderheads.

McEwen's chief claim to fame is its annual outdoor barbecue, recorded in 1988 as being the world's largest by The Guinness Book of World Records. The grounds for this event stay idle for most of the year ... leaving behind a large field full of silent concession booths, empty souvenir stands, woodpiles, and faded pennants. Ever since I left the sandy paradise of Anastasia Island for the country life, this vacant green and the nearby Irish Catholic graveyard have been my go-to places for meditative walks.

A railroad bisects our town, and its freight trains roll through several times a day. There's a nostalgic and somewhat mournful feeling that creeps over me when I find myself walking alongside the tracks, and I hear an approaching locomotive sounding its horn. The crossing bell dings, and the striped boom gates descend. The orange light of afternoon falls upon weeds and gravel, broken bottles gleam beneath the crossbuck, and the creaking procession of hoppers and flats evokes distant destinations and the forgotten romance of the bindle. The web of iron that once bound our nation together suddenly comes into vivid focus, and as I watch the converging rails wobble under rising heat I think of hoboes and seekers and other wandering souls, ghosts climbing silently into the boxcars, ghosts in pork pie hats and tattered shoes, decamping for points unknown, and I find myself grieving for a musty mythos, for an era that died decades before my arrival, for an America that probably never even existed.

There really isn't anything to "do" around here, so our home life is mostly centered around cooking meals, nurturing our own professional and artistic ambitions, and caring for the dogs. It's a simple, uncomplicated existence, boring in all of the best ways. It's a season for spiritual pursuits and growing fresh herbs on the windowsill and mixing paints and tuning guitars. It's a season of quotidian bliss.

Because of their special needs, our dogs pretty much dictate the household's operations and schedule. Everything has to be specifically engineered to ensure their safety and comfort, and the routine is firmly embossed in everyone's mind. Late at night, before Daniel and I eat our supper, all six of us go for a walk through the quiet streets. Walking several handicapped dogs at once is not an easy task to manage ... the dogs all move in different directions, each following their own erratic interest, and so any human caught in the middle will inevitably be beribboned like a maypole by crisscrossing leashes. Cats, skunks, armadillos, and strays captivate them. We're constantly being interrupted mid-sentence by explosive barking and sudden lurches, and we've both pretty much given up on "directing" them. Besides, it's really their show, not ours, and so the walks have become a nightly exercise in Zen acceptance.

There are four dogs in our pack: Miss Cheez-It, Phantom, Bear, and Edison.

Miss Cheez-It is a calico border collie who was born without eyeballs. Despite her blindness, she is utterly fearless, and quite assertive. She has something of a 1950s juvenile delinquent vibe about her ... think of Rizzo from "GREASE" mixed with Tura Satana from "FASTER, PUSSYCAT! KILL! KILL!", and you get some sense of her innate boldness. Daniel and I are convinced that if we were to turn her loose on the streets, she'd be leading an all-female switchblade gang within a week.

Phantom, our Australian Shepherd, is both blind and deaf ... but he is blissfully, radiantly happy. I've never see a dog so thrilled to be alive. When we retrieve the leashes from the antique toy chest by the door, he becomes the most excitable creature on earth. Every walk is an adventure, every meal is a feast, every smell is a novelty. Phantom wants for nothing. He is our household Buddha, with untamable fur and a perpetual smile, and an expression that says, "I love being here." His eyes, beautiful but utterly useless, are a milky blue, the color of a winter morning.

Bear, the hound, has all of his senses ... but his neurosis has taken the form of an unshakeable guilt complex, in itself something of a handicap. He requires ongoing reassurance that he is, indeed, a Very Good Boy, and that we aren't mad at him, and that he deserves to be here just like the rest of us, and that we won't ever skip him at dinnertime. He leads a pretty cushy life ... nobody raises a hand to him, nobody yells when he upchucks on the hardwood, and he's constantly showered with love and praise ... but he keeps giving us the most baleful glances, as if to say, "It's all my fault."

And this leaves us with Edison, the deaf pit bull. Although I adore all of the dogs, I've become especially attached to him. He's like a battery for affection. You can charge him up with hugs and rubs and kisses ... and when you need that love returned, he will surrender it all to you in a single devoted glance. As I write this, we are sharing the ancient orange sofa in the studio. This has become the standard arrangement for us: I take the north end, he anchors the south, my feet rest against his haunches, and he snores contentedly while I type. Whenever I shift my position, he immediately looks up at me to see if I am staying put or rising. He'll stubbornly follow me from room to room, never letting me out of his sight for more than a few minutes at a time. We are closely bonded, Edison and I. There is some kind of tacit understanding between us, a sense that we're in it for the long haul, that our fates are linked. We are mutually responsible for one another.

Unfortunately, pit bulls have gotten a bum rap in America. The public image of the breed has less to do with any innate malice than with the wickedness of bad masters ... illegal fighting rings, unscrupulous breeders, skinheads, neo-Nazis, self-professed "gangsters" who pride themselves on the viciousness of their dogs. Back when I lived in one of Kansas City's grimmest neighborhoods, I witnessed a yard full of neglected pits maul an escaped piglet, something I can never unsee.

My personal experience with pit bulls, on the other hand, has been consistently wonderful. I've watched these "beasts" nuzzle babies, and tolerate the senseless prodding of toddlers, and settle in for family time with the gentleness of lambs. Edison is the kind of monster who would allow pre-teen girls to slap makeup on his face and stick a tiara on his head. He has no real need for dignity, and will allow you to arrange him however you want, like a four-legged throw-pillow. When we're rough-housing in the mornings, he'll sometimes seize my right hand between his jaws. I know that he could easily destroy my painting career with a few choice bites ... but my trust in him is complete.

Truth be told, Edison is getting on in years. We can't sugar-coat the facts of aging. He's already starting to show some early signs of dementia ... he has to be coaxed to eat his breakfast, and he no longer trusts that he can just remain in place when I get up to refill my coffee. There's sometimes a befuddled, worried look in his eyes, as if he doesn't fully grasp something he's expected to understand. No amount of encouragement will soothe a dog who is losing his faculties, and his confusion will grow increasingly heartbreaking as time goes on. Lipomas and liver spots already mottle his skin. He's developed some arthritis in his hips, for which he takes an anti-inflammatory drug twice a day. I sneak the pills into his mouth via dollops of mayonnaise, giving his siblings an equal amount so that the poor creatures don't feel cheated. I know I'm dispensing far too much of the stuff ... Daniel probably thinks I'm ushering us all into the poorhouse, spoonful by heaping spoonful ... but I want to spoil these mutts for as long as we have them.

Part of being a dog parent is understanding that they won't always be around. Sooner or later, Edison's dog bowl will stay empty. Sooner or later, this couch will seem twice as long as it does now.

And so I give everything I've got to our embraces. Whenever I pet Edison, it's with a focus and intensity that keeps my mind locked in the "here and now". Every time I scratch his neck, every time we snuggle, every time I pluck burrs from his paws, it's with the understanding that we'll only have so many more moments like this. Our special bond, like all bonds, is a fleeting thing. Even though Edison is as deaf as his namesake, I whisper into his ear how deeply I love him, how he'll always be my special buddy, how he's "the most bestest boy in the whole wide world". I tell him that he's smart, and cooperative, and loyal, and sweet-natured. Only the latter two of those things are true, but I want him to feel good about himself. Besides, he doesn't hear a lick of it. For all he knows or cares, I might as well be reciting the Gettysburg address. But he can feel what I am saying to him. For the remainder of his days, he will be assured of my devotion.

Edison, Bear, Daniel, and I share the bed every night. Unfortunately, Edison has no gift for geometry, and Bear is basically a skittish pony disguised as a dog, so cramming us all onto a queen-sized mattress is often a clumsy business. Paws poke into backs, limbs collide, the real estate is badly subdivided, everybody snores ... but we make it work. We make it work because we have to.

Unlike people, dogs always remain in the moment. They may wait, with varying degrees of patience, for anticipated events ... meals, walks, a parent returning home from the salt mines ... but for the most part they seem to exist entirely in the present. They are the masters of mindfulness.

When I hold Edison, my senses snap back to the experience at hand. I note the texture of his fur and the mélange of odors trapped within. I listen to the sound of his breathing, the purring rumble of his satisfaction. My heart rate slows, as does his. My muscles unclench, as do his. The noise of the world diminishes, unresolved crises fade, the inchoate terrors of tomorrow dissolve ... until there is only this old dog, my noble friend and I, sharing a quiet moment of fellowship in the middle of nowhere. He can't hear the train whistle, though he may feel the rumble of the tankers in the trembling of our house. He sometimes feels me crying against his neck, and hooks a sympathetic foreleg over my wrist. And in this way we mark the passing of time, curled up against one another, healing neglected injuries. These are moments of mutual restoration, and I wouldn't trade them for anything. Edison is curing more maladies than he will ever know.

Those pills he takes with his meals are just the beginning. The roster of remedies will likely grow in the years to come. He will need more drugs, more doctor visits, more patience. But we'll be ready when the time comes. That's the deal we're keeping, he and I, until the very end. I'll help take care of Edison's medicine, and Edison will help take care of mine. Because for me, the phrase "Edison's medicine" has two meanings.

Edison has medicine. Edison is medicine.

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tomorrowedblog · 2 years ago

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Friday Releases for May 12

Friday is the busiest day of the week for new releases, so we've decided to collect them all in one place. Friday Releases for May 12 include The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, BlackBerry, Fool's Paradise, and more.

BlackBerry

BlackBerry, the new movie from Matt Johnson, is out today.

The true story of the meteoric rise & catastrophic demise of the world’s first smartphone, BLACKBERRY is a whirlwind ride through a ruthlessly competitive Silicon Valley at breakneck speeds.

Fool's Paradise

Fool's Paradise, the new movie from Charlie Day, is out today.

A satirical comedy about a down on his luck publicist, who gets his lucky break when he discovers a man recently released from a mental health facility looks just like a method actor who refuses to leave his trailer. With the help of a powerful producer, the publicist helps the man become a huge star, even marrying his beautiful leading lady. Their adventures lead them to cross paths with drunken costars, irreverent unhoused action heroes, unpredictable directors, super agent, and power-mad moguls. Fame and fortune are not all they’re cracked up to be, and the two men must fight their way back to the things that matter the most.

Knights of the Zodiac

Knights of the Zodiac, the new movie from Tomasz Baginski, is out today.

Based on the international anime sensation, Knights of the Zodiac brings the Saint Seiya saga to the big screen in live-action for the first time. Seiya (Mackenyu), a headstrong street teen, spends his time fighting for cash while he searches for his abducted sister. When one of his fights unwittingly taps into mystical powers he never knew he had, Seiya finds himself thrust into a world of warring saints, ancient magical training and a reincarnated goddess who needs his protection. If he’s to survive, he will need to embrace his destiny and sacrifice everything to take his rightful place among the Knights of the Zodiac.

Monica

Monica, the new movie from Andrea Pallaoro, is out today.

A woman returns home to care for her ailing mother who she hasn’t seen in years in this tender portrait of family, forgiveness, and acceptance.

Hypnotic

Hypnotic, the new movie from Robert Rodriguez, is out today.

A detective becomes entangled in a mystery involving his missing daughter and a secret government program while investigating a string of reality-bending crimes.

Organ Trail

Organ Trail, the new movie from Michael Patrick Jann, is out today.

Abigale and her family fall victim to a ruthless gang while making their way across the Oregon Trail. As the only survivor, she will do whatever it takes to retrieve her one earthly possession, her family’s horse, from the clutches of the bloodthirsty bandits.

The Mother

The Mother, the new movie from Niki Caro, is out today.

A military-trained assassin comes out of hiding to protect the daughter she’s never met from ruthless criminals gunning for revenge.

The Starling Girl

The Starling Girl, the new movie from Laurel Parmet, is out today.

Seventeen-year-old Jem Starling struggles to define her place within her fundamentalist Christian community in rural Kentucky. Even her greatest joy of dancing with the church group is tempered by worry that her actions are sinful and she is caught between a burgeoning awareness of her own sexuality and her religious devotion. With the return of Owen, an enigmatic youth pastor, Jem soon finds herself attracted to his worldliness and charm. Slowly, he draws her into a dangerous relationship that could upend their entire community.

Crater

Crater, the new movie from Kyle Patrick Alvarez, is out today.

“Crater” is the story of Caleb Channing, who was raised on a lunar mining colony and is about to be permanently relocated to an idyllic faraway planet following the death of his father. But before leaving, to fulfill his dad’s last wish, he and his three best friends, Dylan, Borney and Marcus, and a new arrival from Earth, Addison, hijack a rover for one final adventure on a journey to explore a mysterious crater.

Mulligan

Mulligan, the new TV series from Robert Carlock and Sam Means, is out today.

In this satirical comedy, when most of Earth is destroyed by aliens, can a few survivors rebuild what’s left of America and form a more perfect union?

City On Fire

City On Fire, the new TV series from Josh Schwartz and Stephanie Savage, is out today.

A college student is shot in Central Park on July 4, 2003. The investigation connects a series of mysterious citywide fires, the downtown music scene, and a wealthy uptown reel estate family fraying under the strain of the many secrets they keep.

Black Knight

Black Knight, the new TV series from Cho Ui-seok, is out today.

With only 1% of humanity left The Black Knights remain their last hope to overturn the world.

The Great S3

The third season of The Great, the TV series from Tony McNamara, is out today.

The Great is a satirical, comedic drama about the rise of Catherine the Great from outsider to the longest reigning female ruler in Russia’s history. A fictionalized, fun and anachronistic story of an idealistic, romantic young girl, who arrives in Russia for an arranged marriage to the mercurial Emperor Peter. Hoping for love and sunshine, she finds instead a dangerous, depraved, backward world that she resolves to change. All she has to do is kill her husband, beat the church, baffle the military and get the court onside.

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom

The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, the new game from Nintendo, is out today.

In this sequel to The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, you’ll decide your own path through the sprawling landscapes of Hyrule and the mysterious islands floating in the vast skies above. Can you harness the power of Link’s new abilities to fight back against the malevolent forces that threaten the kingdom?

#Games #Movies #TV #News

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64bitgamer · 2 years ago

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theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 4 years ago

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Cryo Archon!Childe fucking his wife on their wedding night and he gets her pregnant? and he's a little yandereish like the way you write him? your work is sublime

Thank you~! I had fun writing this since I never once entertained Childe being a cryo archon but the image of him having the signature tip dyed hair was simply o(*////▽////*)q

In Snezhnaya with Love

Summary: Cryo Archon's most treasured and beloved possession was not his gnosis, but the Tsaritsa that was protected in the depths of the Zapolyarny Palace.

Of the current Seven, the Cryo Archon, the Tsar of Snezhnaya was famed for his glorious victories in the battlefield, a once human who vanquished gods when meeting gods and slayed demons when meeting demons. All Snezhnayans held their Cryo Archon with high regards, loved him and respected him for all the battles he had won for himself and that of Snezhnaya. They tell the story of their Archon, the second to ascend among the Original Seven, whose battle prowess was second only to Morax of Liyue.

Though no one knew their Tsar’s once mortal name, their were many monikers he went by at the times he paraded himself as a mortal; Tartaglia of the Harbingers when in Snezhnaya, Childe when in Liyue, Herrscher in Mondstadt, Wakasama in Inazuma, Le Seigneur in Fontaine, Bhagavan in Sumeru, and Kasike in Natlan. Thus, the people of Snezhnaya found no need to discover their Archon’s once name.

And you were one of them, you had no need nor want to know the Cryo Archon, the Tsar, beyond what he wanted his people to know. All that mattered was that you loved him just as your fellow countrymen did. Though you were no devout follower of the Tsar, despite your status as the heiress of 10 Noble Houses of Snezhnaya’s high society, you still carried yourself like one.

You were after all graced with his element, and your Uncle Pulcinella’s position in the Harbingers ensured that you brought no shame to the prestige of your bloodline and your status as a Cryo Vision Holder. You were the embodiment of your Archon’s ideals, Strength not only to protect one’s self and family but also to challenge the Divine.

It was the price you willingly paid to enjoy the privileges your vision and status granted you. Perhaps in another world you would have gone on and married someone not out of love but out of duty, but such thoughts flew out of the window that one summer day in Morepesok.

It had been a vacation for you, a rare moment of freedom from the prying and judging eyes of the world. You had been allowed to roam free in your Uncle Pulcinella’s vacation villa in the rural seaside village. It was one of the top tourist destinations in Snezhnaya, a town seemingly stuck in time, where the rest of Snezhnaya was filled with towering buildings and skyscrapers of metal and light, Morepesok retained the traditional houses of Snezhnaya.

A rare glimpse of the past long gone. It was during this trip that you had your fateful encounter with the young man, his orange hair with sky blue tips that gently swayed in the cold wind, and his piercing blue eyes that had taken your breath away.

He smiled at you, curious and just a touch of arrogance that let you know he knew he was handsome. Your cheeks flushed not from the cold but from embarrassment.

“Hey there, girlie~!” He called out as he trotted towards you, his hunter attire letting you know he was one of the hunters of Morepesok.

“He-hello” You greeted him back, soft and shy. Stuttering as you felt your heartbeat quicken with each step that he took towards you.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous in this area?” He asked you, eyes glinting with cold amusement and something in you wanted to rise to his unspoken challenge.

“Oh? Was there?” You replied, “With this being part of my uncle’s villa, I doubt that there is anything here that would be dangerous to me…”

His smile fades away and you continued, “Of course even if this part of the woods is no longer a part of his villa, other than our beloved Tsar’s ire, I would be the most dangerous creature out here.”

You punctuated your words with the masterful and powerful display of your control over Cryo. The frostarm lawachurl heading towards your location toppled over, the top of their head bleeding out from the spikes of cryo that burst out from their forehead. Their dying cry had the man before you looking back and his laughter echoed in the desolate winter forest of Morepesok.

“Hahahaha!” He laughed, hands on his stomach as he bent over “Amazing, comrade! This is the first time I’ve ever seen Cryo be used in such a way! Not even the Tsar was said to be that ruthless!”

You smiled at him, sweet and pleased at his praise, “Perhaps, our beloved Tsar has yet to meet an opponent that would make him use such cruelty.”

“Interesting, I’m Ajax of Morepesok. And you...must be Pulcinella’s treasured niece” His smile turned more genuine offering his hand to you he added, “Something tells me would get along most splendidly.”

And as you gave him your hand, he brought it close to his lips, kissing it gently and you knew, as the distant sound of the waves crashing into the shore sounded in the forest, that your first defeat was in the hands of this charming young man.

And it was your sweetest defeat, you spent most of your days in his cabin, an inheritance from his deceased family, your time split between sparring with him and going ice fishing. Each moment spent made you stronger, Ajax taught you in every weapon he knew. Each touch that corrected your stance sent shivers down your spine.

And neither of you shied away from the inevitable. His touches became less innocent, less sincere in teaching you. And you took every opportunity to have skinship with him, from taking advantage of the gentle cold air to asking for his help in reeling in the ridiculously large fishes in Morepesok.

Despite the never ending cold of Snezhnaya, the distance between you and Ajax slowly melted away with each shed of layer between the two of you. In his cabin, you were just a young maiden in love, and he was just your strong lover who sheltered you from the harshness of the world.

The domesticity of your everyday life with him lulled you into a false sense of comfort, the mornings and afternoons spent with him would come to an end. Maybe, it was the knowledge that you would never be able to return to this time, or perhaps it was your reluctance to be forgotten so easily that led to this point.

The moment Ajax had kissed you against his door, you had shed all pretense of propriety. You kissed him back, tongue entangling with his as his hands ventured down and began divesting you of your clothes. Neither of you stopped kissing as your hand went to his pants and unbuckled his belt, his hydro vision dropping to the ground in sync with him removing your top that held your cryo vision.

You broke off to breath and found your neck being kissed as Ajax lifted you up and you let out a surprised gasp. Your arms automatically embraced his neck as he brought you upstairs and into his bedroom. You had no chance to look around as he gently placed you atop his soft bed.

His lips trailed down from your neck to the center of your chest down to your groin, leaving a soft trail of kisses before he began to eat you out.

Outside the window of his room, snow fell harshly and the windows softly shook with each gust of wind. Idly you wondered what had made the Tsar rage about but this thought was lost to the lust and pleasure of your love making with Ajax.

You laid on his chest, utterly spent as he curled his arm around you and gave you soft kisses atop your head. Neither of you spoke, unwilling to face the reality of your departure. But you were never one to falter from the things that you didn’t like.

You were always moving forward. Bravely facing whatever comes your way, be it life or love. So you broke the silence, because it was what you believed you owed him.

“I’m enlisting in the Fatui” Your voice soft, “This would be most likely the last time we would meet.”

You felt his hand on your waist tighten before it relaxed. You looked at him and was greeted by his warm smile.

“But not definitely” He said and your heart ached because you knew that even if you met him next time there was no chance for anything more.

“Ajax, the next time we meet, I will no longer be as I am today.”

“...”

His eyes grew cold and you found yourself underneath him, he looked at you darkly and foolishly you still found yourself lost in his beautiful eyes.

“We will meet again,” he said, voice hard and steely “and no one would be able to take you away from me.”

His kiss was hard and biting, cold and passionate, and for a moment you believed him.

“Promise me then,” You begged him as tears gathered in the edges of your eyes as you surrendered to him once more “promise me that you’ll wait for me, that you’ll fight for me and I’ll return to you and fight for you.”

“I promise” Ajax smiled, his coldness and anger melting away as he showered you with all of his love. Leaving traces of himself on you, marking you to proclaim his rightful ownership of you.

Enlisting in the Fatui and joining their ranks hadn’t been easy with the additional expectation being brought by your familial connection with one of the current Harbingers, and with that the hatred and envy of others. You didn’t care for it though, thoughts of Ajax and the life you’d have with him making it easier for you. Then again, the Fatui was a place where strength was respected and it was something you had in spades, from fighting abilities to scheming. You didn’t have the best leadership skills but that was something that could be slowly learned.

All in all, you had gritted your teeth, bore the difficulties, and slowly but surely made your way up in the ranks and into being a Harbinger. Innamorati, they called you and you it was a name you proudly wore. A name bestowed upon you by your beloved Cryo Archon, the Tsar with his bright orange hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Ajax.

It was surprising to see such a familiar and beloved face in that of the beloved Archon but you had learned to hide your emotions. But even as you walked away from him and went home to celebrate, the unmistakable pull you felt didn’t allow you to delude yourself completely.

You needed to see Ajax.

The trip to Morepesok was faster with the portable waypoint Ajax had made you. An easy temptation to meet him in the middle of your enlistment but one you never took. You wanted to prove yourself, and at the same time show him that you’d never easily cave, be it for him or for something else, you would keep your word. And maybe that was why the waiting figure of your Tsar, in Ajax’ clothes, had shaken your heart.

The winds howled and snow fell harshly, each step he took towards made you tremble whether it was from trepidation or something else you didn’t know but as he took a strand of your hair and held close to his lips you couldn’t help but call for him,

“Ajax?”

You felt at loss, not knowing how much of the days you spent with him were true, not knowing if his words had been meant. You wouldn’t be able to take it if it wasn’t.

“Yes, my love?” He asked, gently and comforting as he took you into his arms and held you tight enough that it hurt.

You didn’t know what to say, unable to put your feelings into words so you buried your face into his chest, held him just as tight with your trembling hands and begged him to understand what your heart wanted.

You never noticed how you remained unaffected by the cold, despite the howling winds and harshly falling snow that surrounded you. All you could think of was the feeling you held tightly as Ajax carried you inside his home, up to his bedroom and slowly but gently began to undress you.

You made no protest beyond the need to have your hand held by his. He had laughed, soft and gentle, at your clinginess but no less than pleased at it.

“I’d need my hand to properly undress you” He said even if he had no problem tearing your clothes off.

You gave him an unimpressed glance but nonetheless leaned close when he moved to take your panties off, you snuggled closer to him, holding his hand tighter. You felt your panties drop to your feet and you moved to take it off them. Ajax pushed you to sit and the bed, finding it adorable and pleasing how you easily complied.

Trusted him so much that you made no protest beyond the soft pout when he untangled your hands. He gently rolled your black thigh highs off your legs, raising one leg high to slowly and teasingly slide it off your smooth legs.

He smirked at seeing your pussy twitch ever so often, knowing that you were surely having lewd thoughts. So he pulled you closer by your legs until your pussy was just a scant few centimeters away from his face. Your breath hitched and you unconsciously wanted to close your legs but his hands stopped it and began the process of taking off your remaining thigh highs. The process barely took a minute but it felt so long that you were ready to beg him.

When your thighs were freed from your thigh highs, you spread your legs, fingers going towards your labia and spreading it wide for him to see.

“Please?” You begged, voice soft and cute as you showed him your glistening wet pussy.

And Ajax, had never been one to deny you. Spoiling you with gifts and affection until you were drunk and dizzy from it. His mouth pressed close to your cunt, tongue licking the outside, circling your clit before it made its way in. He ate you like the sweet treat that you were, holding your thighs securely as you writhed on the bed with pleasure, moans growing louder and louder with each passing minute until you were crying for release.

He was relentless in teasing you, calloused hands teasing your clit before stopping when you were on the edge of your orgasm.

“Ajax~” You cried his name, moaning and panting as his fingers fucked you “please le—ahh!”

“Aren’t you my most devoted Harbinger?” He teased, “Surely you can hold on until I order you to come?”

You nod your head with slight hesitation but it was something Ajax could forgive seeing how you were feverish with want and your earlier words of begging for his cock.

His fingers went in and out of your pussy, each thrust accompanied by the squelch of your slick, his saliva and the hydro that coated his fingers. Your pussy loosened with each passing minute as he alternated his attention to your sweet cunt and your cute clit.

When he had deemed you loose enough, he stood up and freed his cock from the tight and uncomfortable confines of pants, he let his pants and briefs drop to the floor before he climbed the bed and in one smooth motion, plunged his cock into your waiting wet pussy.

“Cum” He ordered and you did, voice a sweet melody to his ears as he fucked you through your orgasm, the loud creaking of the bed and the sound of the head board as it repeatedly slammed on the wall made you aware of your situation, as the haze of lust slightly lifted.

It didn’t do much beyond making you want to hold his hand which Ajax did, held your hand as he repeatedly rammed his cock into your pussy, slowly reaching your depths with each thrust of his cock until he let out his cum inside you, spilling it deep inside your pussy that Ajax knew that there wasn’t any impossibility you wouldn’t end up pregnant.

He softly fell on top of you, caging you beneath him as you hugged his muscular back and simply existed in that moment. His cock remained inside of you and the feeling of being connected in such a way, on having all of him touching your skin, the soft sound of his ragged breaths and his scent mixing with the smell of sex that pervaded your nose anchored you in this precise moment.

Where the world felt like it had melted away leaving the two of you alone. Neither a monarch and his subject nor a god and its believer. Just you and him, as lovers.

“Did you really mean it?” You asked, soft and preparing for the worst.

“Yes,” He answered, voice equally soft as he squeezed you tight, he continued “I meant every I love yous I said to you, every promise made.”

He kissed you on your neck, on the vein that betrayed your heart’s quick pulse. He inhaled your scent which he had missed so dearly, remembering the nights he had spent thinking of you, wondering what you were doing. The nights he laid awake missing your warmth on his side, the afternoon naps where he held you close to his heart.

He watched from afar as you slowly and steadily made your way up in the ranks, each battle won and lost that slowly shaped you into a Harbinger. He thought of the days that made him want to simply steal you away, lock you in his room until you forgot your family, your duty, and only had him in your mind.

But he stopped himself, he knew that doing so would make you lose the shine that had entranced him, he would lose the you that he came to love. The you that was bound by duty both self-imposed and ones imposed by society. So he waited, until the day came when you stood before him, surprise hidden well but he was Ajax, he was your Cryo Archon, he was your lover whom you eagerly wrote every week.

So he knew your tells better than anyone else, knew the moment it clicked in your mind, saw the trepidation behind your eyes and Ajax wouldn’t have that. He had promised you after all, and he was one to keep promises.

Even if one day you wanted to leave him, he wouldn’t allow you. He had a promise to keep after all.

In the depths of Zapolyarny Palace was a room where the Tsaritsa, the Tsar’s most beloved wife resided. It was a room filled with splendor and grace, the best and most beautiful artworks and gadgets decorated the room.

It was a room that the Tsar loved the most, and thus it was the most important room in the Palace. The best of the Fatui sans the Harbingers guarded the doors that led to the halls of the room. It was strictly guarded and meant to ensure that not a single thing would be stolen from the room.

It was after all where you resided, a place where the Tsar designated as his home. His personal haven from courtly matters and godly duties. And today was no exception, every day you spent on the room was reliving your wedding night.

The soft silk sheets that you felt on your back, the white lacy lingerie that you wore underneath your wedding gown. It’s tiny slits that showcased your exposed and erect nipples, the your cum filled pussy that dripped with your husband’s thick cum that was always replenished multiple times in a day. The soft clink of the chains that held your wrists and had your legs spread widely. The familiar sensation of your collar that held your Cryo vision, a mark of his favor and love, a seal that ensured you would remain his until you drew your last breath. The soft cotton of your blindfold had enhanced your other senses beyond compare, making you hyper aware of everything that was happening in the room.

The familiar footsteps on the warm carpet of your bedroom, the familiar rustle of his clothes as it fell softly on the ground, cape first, shirt second, belt next and lastly his pants. His warm calloused hands gently caressing the insides of your thighs.

The same routine, repeated every day at different times since you married him. You couldn’t tell how much time had passed since he blindfolded you, how long you had spent with him, the days blurred as he never removed your blindfold.

He took you apart every time and mended you back, fucking you over and over again until he felt satisfied, until your pussy felt raw, until you were begging him for sweet release, until you lifelessly laid on his chest enjoying the feel of his hard cock being warmed by your cunt.

Your apprehension melted away with each fucking, with each release of his seed inside you, until you could only demand more of his time, more of his attention, more of his cum filling you up.

You loved when he was rough with you, the harsh and loud clinks of the chain as you moaned wantonly, begging him to cum inside you, to use you as he saw fit. And each time he went along with your wishes, fulfilling each and every demand you asked of him.

You kissed him with everything that you were, unrestrained by duty or dignity, only knowing what you want as you rubbed your naked and marked body against his, you weren’t the dignified or noble Tsaritsa the public knew. In this room filled with the most prized treasures of the Tsar, you were his most precious slut.

A slut that opened your legs for him alone, a slut that presented your ass and pussy to him with eager eyes hidden by a blindfold. A slut that couldn’t wait to be filled to the brim. It was his duty, his calling as a husband and as your lover to fulfill your needs, to ram his cock again and again inside your loose pussy that held so much of his cum even when your stomach was already showing.

It was his duty to ensure that you, his lewd wife, would be filled with his cum, from your pussy, to your asshole, to those pretty pink lips that eagerly wrapped itself on his cock. He loved how you didn’t care where he fucked you in the room. He loved how different you acted depending on whether he was ramming his cock inside you on the bed, or fucking you in front of the window.

He loved the way you moaned when the table digged on your hips, the way you grasped at the cover as he slid his dick in and out of your loose pussy, cum spilling down your thighs and pooling on the floor. He loved how slutty you could get when being fucked in the bathtub, water sloshing as you repeatedly slammed your pussy down his cock, moaning loud enough that some of it undoubtedly could be heard behind the thick doors of your room.

He loved the sounds you made, pleased and eager, as he fucked your mouth in front of the fireplace, your naked body sitting on the floor while a Cryo dildo repeatedly slammed inside your pussy.

He loved you when your stomach began showing signs of pregnancy, growing big with each passing week and yet you remained unaware, or perhaps you paid it no mind.

He couldn’t tell if you were genuinely happy with the arrangement but as long as you remained by his side, happily doing what he wants, whispering I love yous and adoration in his ears. Eagerly kissing him good morning and good bye, Ajax didn’t put any thought on it.

On the ninth month of your pregnancy, the blindfold was taken off, you looked at him with love and the unmistakable look of longing.

“I missed you!” You told him, eagerly running up to hug him, and plaster your entire naked body, cum dripping down between your legs, to his.

He laughed at you, amused and loving and gently held you close, “You shouldn’t run so quickly, you’re carrying our child after all.”

You nod, and look at your bulging stomach, hand instinctively rubbing it.

“I hope this child will look just like you!”

“Is that so?” He asked a pensive look in his eyes as he rubbed your stomach.

“Yes! How lovely would it be to see a child version of you? A mini-you calling me mother!”

He smiled at you fondly, pleased to know that you still loved him. He kissed you lovingly on your lips and whispered, “As you wish.”

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #genshin impact childe x reader #cryo!archon childe #genshin impact x reader #yandere childe x reader

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blue-eyes-tattoos · 4 years ago

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Here are my favourite fics written in 2020! ✨

(Obviously there’s tons of great 2020 fics I haven’t read yet)

Pt. I = everything over 20k words

Sorted by word count. Hope you enjoy!

📔 Mine Would Be You by crinkle-eyed-boo | @crinkle-eyed-boo 115k

(E, Larry, Exes to Lovers, Artist!Harry, Writer!Louis)

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

📔 Have Love, Will Travel by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything 97k

(E, Larry, Friends to Lovers, Road Trip)

Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series. It soon becomes obvious to their viewers that there’s something more than friendship between them. Eventually, they figure it out.

📔 You’ve Got My Devotion (Hate You Sometimes) by lucythegoosey | @harryrainbows 95k

(E, Larry, Canon Compliant, Exes/Enemies to Lovers, Fake Relationship)

Harry and Louis are forced to fake-date after an old video from when they were dating emerges.

📔 The Murmur of Yearning by MediaWhore | @mediawhorefics 93k

(M, Larry, Historical AU, Slow Burn)

Four years ago, Harry Styles was forced into a marriage of convenience to enrich and ally both his and his promised's families. The sudden, and slightly suspicious, death of the Marquess of Haxshire, however, brings great disturbance to Crescentfield Hall and, as his late's husband's closest male relative, Harry unexpectedly finds himself the head of a family he never felt he belonged to.

📔 Nothing But You On My Mind by nonsensedarling | @absoloutenonsense 84k

(E, Larry, Enemies to Lovers, (modern) Royalty AU)

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

📔 Untamed Hearts by Layne Faire | @laynefaire 69k

(E, Ziam, side Larry, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining)

It could have been the heat of the summer sun; it might have been the silvered sheen of an early harvest moon. If he dug deep enough, Liam could find every reason ever needed to explain away what happened. In the end, though, it all came down to two meddling friends, a touch of Prince, a bit of Keats, and the moon over the ocean. Its a recipe for disaster. Or love. Probably love.

📔 Live a Thousand Lifetimes by Layne Faire | @laynefaire 58k

(E, Ziam, very minor side Larry, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Exes to Lovers, Farm)

It’s 2025. After secretly writing and producing their first album in ten years, One Direction is weeks away from releasing their first new single and announcing a world tour. With the whirlwind about to begin again, Liam re-evaluates the last ten years - the fame, the money, the people who changed his life forever - and the person who walked away.

📔 The Recklessness in Water by LarryOn 51k

(E, Larry, Enemies to Lovers, lifeguard!Harry, unemployed!Louis)

Louis Tomlinson is miserable. He's stuck on a family vacation at a lake cabin in New Hampshire when all he wants to do is bemoan his sorry existence and wallow in his sweatpants. As if the humidity and mosquitos weren't bad enough, he becomes the singular target of an obnoxious lifeguard named Harry.

📔 Need So Much Of You by lululawrence | @lululawrence 47k

(Not Rated, Larry, Canon Compliant, Fake Relationship, Friends to Lovers)

The would-have-been canon compliant, fake relationship, friends with benefits, friends to lovers fic where Louis wonders if this thing going on with Harry is going to break him or change everything for the better.

📔 We Can Take The Long Road Home by pinkcords | @pinkcords 46k

(E, Larry, Strangers to Lovers, Road Trip)

Harry and Louis fall in love down the coast of California.

📔 Caves End by jacaranda_bloom | @jacaranda-bloom 40k

(E, Larry, famous/non-famous, Farm)

The one where Harry has lost his future, Louis has lost his past, but maybe together, they can find a way through the dark.

📔 Say It Back by wordsnnotes | @quelsentiment 40k

(T, Larry, side Ziam, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, College/Uni AU, Asexual Character)

Harry doesn't know what he wants; Louis is too caught up in his problems to care about what he wants; Niall knows perfectly well what he wants, and that's to be everybody's best friend and comic relief; Zayn thought he knew what he wanted until he's reminded of the past; and Liam has come to terms with the fact that it's okay not to know what you want sometimes.

📔 Until by allwaswell16 | @allwaswell16 38k

(E, Larry, side Shiall, famous/non-famous, Enemies to Lovers, Farm)

Rural Eagle County, Colorado wasn’t the type of place to find a famous musician or actor. At least not until songwriter Louis Tomlinson showed up with pop star Niall Horan to visit his uncle’s horse ranch, and they just happened to find themselves next door to a reclusive former movie star.

📔 Love Moves Like The Sea by flamboyo | @chrysopon 33k

(M, Larry, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Sharing a Bed)

Spending two weeks in his uncle's old house by Lee Bay beach is not Louis' ideal holiday, but sadly is the only one he can afford this summer. Spending those alone with Harry, his best friend who he has spent the last five years in love with, may make everything a little better, though. Away from everyday reality, alone somewhere that makes you forget your past and gloss over your future, maybe it's time for two friends to finally explore what they haven't said (but felt) for years.

📔 If Love Was Easy, They’d Call It Hockey by drowninshallowwater | @drowninshallowwater 28k

(Not Rated - there is smut though, Larry, Hockey AU, Friends to Lovers, hockey player!Louis, doctor!Harry, feat one of my favourite bands in a supporting role)

The one where it takes a broken collarbone for Louis to get back what he lost, even if it is seven years down the road.

📔 Sunflower: Vol. 1 by ourownstrings | @ourownstrings 27k

(M, Larry, side Ziam, farmer!Louis, florist!Harry, Misunderstandings, Grief/Mourning, Depression)

“Real farmers love mornings.” Louis hated that sentiment. But then he wasn’t a real farmer. He just got stuck in the family business and drags himself to the farmers market where he put on his best sunny sales pitch. That is until he meets the new flower vendor. The flower boy who is even wearing floral-patterned clothes as he sells bouquets. Suddenly, Saturday mornings are the highlight of his week.

📔 Walls Are Just Walls (You Are My Home) by logogram | @et-y-etc 26k

(E, Larry, famous/non-famous, Friends to Lovers)

After being injured in a hiking accident, musician Harry and his bodyguard are stuck on the trail with no cell service, no supplies, and with nightfall coming. Louis, who’s a wilderness first responder, comes across them, gives first aid, and calls for a rescue.

📔 A Road To Something Better by taggiecb | @taggiecb 25k

(E, Larry, writer!Louis, mayor!Harry, Friends to Lovers)

Louis Tomlinson, famous romance novelist, has just had the rug pulled out from under his feet when his boyfriend leaves him without notice. What's the most appropriate response to this? Move a thousand miles away and seclude himself in a tiny lake town, of course. But nothing is as he expects it to be in the very best way, especially not the handsome mayor of McAll, Idaho.

📔 You Burn so Bright You can Blind Somebody by heartmeetsbreakx | @heartmeetsbreakx 20k

(GA, Ziam, minor side Larry, Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, YouTuber!Liam)

Liam is a popular YouTube vlogger and sometimes Zayn is his cameraman. Liam's subscribers start analyzing their relationship and it changes everything.

#hlsource #hldaily #hlcreators #tracksintheam #zmu #liam93productions #dailytomlinson #stylesnews #2020 fic rec #larry fic rec #ziam fic rec #my fic rec #mine #making this post on a tablet takes EFFORT y’all #hope i didn’t forget any tags

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cincinnatusvirtue · 4 years ago

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Romantic Poets in Profile: John Keats (1795-1821)

The first generation of English language Romantic poets stemmed from the late 18th century and is most associated with the names of Blake, Coleridge & Wordsworth. The second generation that followed was born at the tale end of the 18th century and overlapped with the first to varying degrees. This second generation is usually most associated with another trio: Lord Byron, Percy Shelley & John Keats.

While all six of these men are known for their poetic output they are also known for their lives and how they in turned informed their poetry. In the second generation only Lord Byron was a commercial & critical success in his lifetime to a wider audience. Arguably, the celebrity & personality surrounding Byron and the many complex events of his life, notably many scandals are just as well known as the poetry itself. Meanwhile, Shelley’s political and philosophical ideals were much more explicit and in some ways regarded as too ahead of their time and out of place in the era of the Regency in which he wrote. His sometimes scandalous life and indeed the literary acclaim of his wife, author Mary Shelley and her work Frankenstein perhaps also clouded out the reception to his poetry both in his lifetime and later to an extent too. Though both Byron and Shelley’s poetry has gone on to remain influential and highly regarded in subsequent generations, undoubtedly so too did the events of their lives and their political & philosophical ideals. John Keats is perhaps the only one of this trio who’s poetical output was not also obscured by the details of his life. Other than like Byron & Shelley, Keats did see his share of tragedy in life and indeed lived a short life. However, it can probably be contended that Keats unlike his contemporaries is less known for his personality and life and more solely for his poetry and to a degree his ideas on poetry. Yet, it would be a mistake to not say that his life and experiences did not influence his writing...

Early Life:

-John Keats was born on October 31, 1795 to Thomas & Frances Keats, he was the first of four children. His siblings in order included George, Thomas & Fanny.

-He was born in the Moorgate area of London where his father managed an called the Swan & Hoop, where he previously worked in the horse stables next door. Keats was born into a working class humble origin unlike Byron & Shelley who both had aristocratic backgrounds and were heirs to fortunes and titles of nobility.

-John’s parents had hoped to send him to Eton or Harrow like Byron & Shelley but could not afford the cost. Instead he was sent to the boarding school Enfield where he nevertheless was giving a thorough and modern education. Early on he developed an interest like many of contemporaries in the classics such as Greek & Latin & history.

-John was physically quite short in stature at only roughly over 5 feet in height and slender in build but he was said to be physically strong despite his stature and made up for it with a tough demeanor willing to fight any bullies to himself or his brothers. He was also described as having curly reddish-brown hair.

-He was very interested in literature and was almost always seen reading and by age 13 he was quite focused academically. Winning an academic prize in 1809.

-At age 8 (1804) the first of many family tragedies took place when his father fell from his horse after a visit to Enfield wherein Mr. Keats died of a fracture to the skull, depriving the family of a steady source of income.

-Frances Keats remarried shortly there after but left her new spouse and sent her children to live with her parents instead.

-Frances herself died of tuberculosis in 1810 when John was only 14 years old. Leaving all four Keats in the legal guardianship of their maternal grandmother, who likewise appointed two legal guardians in the event of her own passing.

-Keats had decided to enter the medical profession, which in the early 19th century did not just follow a strict course of years of medical school and residency at a hospital with strict licensing. Instead, many future doctors started out at apprentices to others, who served as either traveling or local surgeons & apothecaries. In the autumn of 1810, Keats entered his apprenticeship with Thomas Hammond, the local family doctor. Living with Hammond & his family in the attic above the surgeon’s practice for the next 3-4 years.

Medicine & Poetry

-In 1814, Keats (aged 19) tried some of his early efforts at poetry having never let go of his interest in poetry & literature during his apprenticeship. His early efforts were regarded as imitation and derivative, even in title of his earliest surviving poem “An Imitation of Spenser” named after the poet-author Edmund Spenser.

-1815 saw John admitted to Guy’s Hospital as a medical student, he became a dresser or assistant to surgeons. This sense of dedication and responsibility seemed to be leave the impression to all that he was destined to a life as a doctor which would have likely brought him financial security, something he never really had.

-Finances were always a sensitive issue for Keats who was stubborn in his independence and determined to make his own way in life. His mother had left him £800 for his 21st birthday and had left £8,000 to be divided between her four children upon their reaching the age of maturity (Keats 21st). However, he was never informed by his legal guardian/attorneys about the £800 bequeathment, possibly due to their own lack of information.

-Despite his heavy involvement in medicine, he was increasingly devoted to poetry and writing, which began to conflict with his studies. Nevertheless in 1816 he did receive his apothecaries license, essentially making him a licensed practitioner of medicine to serve as pharmacist, surgeon and physician. By year’s end taking inspiration from other well known poets, namely Lord Byron & Leigh Hunt, John decided instead to devote his life and earnings to poetry rather than medicine.

-In 1816, Keats got his sonnet “O Solitude” published in the Examiner, a liberal leaning weekly paper-magazine publication that was well known throughout Britain for its radical politics and featured modern artists including poets, it was published by Leigh Hunt, himself a poet and radical intellectual. Also a friend of both Lord Byron & Percy Shelley.

-October 1816 through a mutual friend, Hunt met Keats for the first time. Under Leigh’s influence Keats met with radical artists and intellectuals of the day, though Keats wasn’t especially political in his writing. Within month of meeting Hunt, his first volume of poems, called simply “Poems” was released to no commercial success and little critical notice aside from a favorable review in the publication, The Champion.

-Keats managed to switch his original publishers to a new set of publishers who’s past clients included Samuel Coleridge. His new publishers were very enthusiastic about his poems and paid him an advance for a second volume.

-Meanwhile, Leigh Hunt published an article on Keats & Shelley to derive attention to their poetry while also publishing “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer.” The sonnet which marvels at Chapman’s translations of the Greek author and bard Homer, struck a chord with many in the literary world and while he wasn’t a commercial success, many new literary friends and acquaintances came into Keats’ social circle. They were impressed with his talents and felt in time he had more untapped potential.

-1817 saw Keats leave London having faced too many ailments in the cramped quarters near the medical school as he had at one point intended to return to medicine and join the Royal College of Surgeons but nevertheless his poetic ambitions won him over.

-John moved in with his brothers to the nearby village of Hampstead where his brother Tom had now like their mother started to suffer tuberculosis. John & George tried their best to help their brother but in the days before antibiotics and vaccines were known and developed, tuberculosis was essentially a death sentence, sometimes fast acting or as in Tom’s case long and drawn out. Which combined with his poor finances depressed Keats (who was prone to depression his entire life).

-Hampstead nevertheless allowed Keats to be in a more rural setting more congenial to his writing and close his friends like Leigh Hunt and others in their literary circle. Also Samuel Coleridge, the first generation Romantic poet who on at least one occasion walked with Keats through the woods talking by Keats’ own account on everything from poetry to metaphysics.

A Walking Tour of the British Isles:

-In June 1818, the Keats brothers went their separate ways, Tom remained infirm due to his illness and in the care of others at Hampstead. While John & George departed themselves. John travelled with his friend Charles Armitage Brown intending to take a walking tour of the north of Britain, so as to acquire some poetic inspiration and alleviate his depression. The tour would take Keats & Brown to the famed and picturesque Lake District of Northwest England’s Cumbria region, along with a tour of Scotland & Ireland. To save on travel expenses, they’d walk everywhere except where boat ferries were needed. George Keats and his new wife Georgina accompanied John & Charles part of the way. They was bound to emigrate for America where ultimately they would remain but perish poor and suffering from tuberculosis. George said what would be his farewell to John in Lancaster, England. Seeing each other only once more briefly in 1820.

-Keats & Brown made for the Lake District in Cumbria where famed first generation Romantic poet, William Wordsworth was living. He attempted to meet with Wordsworth at his home in the area but no one was home at the time. The two poets had met in 1817 on a number of occasions.

-Keats wrote a series of letters to his siblings almost daily, serving as a diary and practice place for his new found poetry. In it he described not only the natural scenery of mountains, lake, rivers and glens but of the habits and appearance of the people of Northern England, Scotland & Ireland. Which to 19th century Londoners was almost as foreign as far flung parts of the European continent.

-Keats visited the grave and cottage of Scottish lyricist Robert Burns, he also visited Northern Ireland in the vicinity of Belfast along with the Scottish Highlands and several of the Scottish islands. Keats also made observations of the extreme poverty the average Scots & Irish rural families faced at the time, with most children walking barefoot and that to keep warm meant burning bog peat in smoky huts with no outlets but the one doorway into the home. The poverty shocked Keats sensibilities but the walking tour was pivotal in giving Keats new perspectives & indeed inspiration.

Return to Hampstead, Wentworth Place & Fanny Brawne:

-Keats and Brown returned to Hampstead in August of 1818, after two months of a walking tour. He returned to caring for Tom whose condition worsened and would eventually pass away from his prolonged illness on December 1st, depressing Keats greatly. Its possible during his caring for Tom that Keats contracted the disease himself which he began to refer to as a “family disease” having previously taken his mother.

-Following Tom’s death and George’s moving to America, John found himself alone with the English winter oncoming. He moved into Charles Brown’s newly owned Wentworth Place, a house about ten minutes from his old lodgings in Hampstead. It was here that Keats in the spring of 1819 would write a handful of his greatest known poems, his Odes on which his legacy largely rests to this day. Including Odes to a Nightingale, Melancholy & Grecian Urn.

-Meanwhile, the publication of his second volume of poetry, the classically influenced Endymion, was also negatively received by the literary critics, many of whom opposed Keats for his association with Leigh Hunt and the radical politics he espoused.

-1819 also produced some of his other posthumously best known works: Lamia, The Eve of St. Agnes, Hyperion, La Belle Dame Sans Merci. His publishers were lukewarm to the poems but did agree to publish them in 1820 the third and final collections of poems released in his lifetime under the title-Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes & Other Poems.

-Previously in 1817, he had met an Isabella Jones who appears to have been an early long term flirtation with Keats and likely was one whom inspired much of his poetry that was noted for its sensual language. In letters to his brother George and from glancing remarks from others, it appears likely Keats had his first and possibly only sexual relationship with Jones though the two seemed to never commit to an actual full blown romantic relationship. Their trysts continued until early 1819.

-By autumn 1818 Keats would be meet the great love of his life, Fanny Brawne. Fanny was an 18 daughter of a widow who was friends with Keats neighbors at Wentworth Place. By 1819 the Brawnes had moved next door and John saw Fanny daily. Evidently the two had much in common, including having grandparents who owned inns, family loss due to tuberculosis and interest in literature and theater.

-John gave books to Fanny to read and in time the two were almost inseparable. They appear by summer 1819 to have been informally engaged to marry, “engaged to be engaged” as is sometimes described. Nevertheless, despite his new romance and his productive and more mature poetry two things continued to put limitations on Keats as they always had. The first was finances or lack there of. Keats got his publishing advances but also had to borrow money and was often generous in loaning great sums to others making him indebted. He also had no critical or commercial breakthrough as a poet yet either. He did not want to marry Fanny until he made something of himself financially.

-The second trouble was the ever present danger of exposure to tuberculosis. The realization that Keats was fatally afflicted with the same disease that killed his mother, younger brothers & sister in law occurred in early 1820. Upon hemorrhaging blood in coughing fits, Keats was aware his death was approaching.

-He wrote hundreds of letters and messages to Fanny and professed what amounted to great anguish over loving her and the realization that his poverty and now fatal affliction would prevent their marriage from ever taking place.

Exile to Italy and Death:

-The treatment for tuberculosis patients in the early 19th century usually to ease though not cure the symptoms was to send the patient to warmer climates to ease the burden on the lungs and English winters with cold and damp conditions in confined spaces was usually regarded as too harsh on a patient in Keats state.

-In September 1820 on the recommendations of his doctors, Keats left England and Fanny behind forever, ship bound for Italy with the final destination being Rome.

-Percy Shelley, now living in self-imposed exile in Italy to evade creditors to whom he was indebted back in England along with the goal of establishing his own radical magazine publication jointly with Leigh Hunt & Lord Byron heard of Keats illness and wrote to him with the offer of having him stay with the Shelleys in Pisa & Florence Italy where they were staying. Keats, who had previously met Shelley in England through Hunt years before declined the offer. Shelley was a proponent and fan of Keats work but offered unsolicited advice to Keats on how to improve his poetry in time. Keats found this patronizing and ever stubborn about making his own way refused Shelley’s help, albeit politely and under the guise of not wanting to burden’s Shelley’s family which had suffered numerous deaths of Percy and Mary’s children (of which only one would survive to adulthood)

-Shelley also wrote to Byron about Keats but Keats & Byron whom never met had a more distanced relationship. Byron thought Shelley was too high praising of Keats abilities and in turn Keats felt that their differences were really creative stating: “You speak of Lord Byron and me – There is this great difference between us. He describes what he sees – I describe what I imagine – Mine is the hardest task.”

-Keats’ friends helped contribute financially for his trip and to accompany him was his friend the artist Joseph Severn. Their journey to Italy was plagued by storms and then followed up with a ten day on ship quarantine while docked in Naples due to a cholera outbreak in Britain. From Naples, they travelled overland to Rome arriving in November two months after they left England.

-Keats & Severn settled into a villa next to he famed Spanish Steps in Rome, at first he took daily carriage rides but his bad health caused this to cease. he was cared for by Severn & an English doctor by the name of Clark. Fearing he might commit suicide by being given opium tinctures in laudanum, he was denied any real painkiller leaving him in agonizing coughing fits. Additionally, Clark followed the normal course of recommended treatment in those days including reducing his diet and bleeding the patient with lancets & leeches. This probably weakened an already sick Keats.

-1821 came around and so Keats linger in agony, often to the point of tears as described by Severn, mostly due to the prolonged suffering and wishing to end his ordeal.

-Finally, Keats succumbed to the disease and died in his rented Roman villa on February 23, 1821. He was 25 years old.

-Severn had him buried in Rome’s Protestant Cemetery with a tombstone arranged by Severn & Charles Brown. To this day it is a common place for tourists to visit.

-Percy Shelley & Leigh Hunt claimed that Keats died due to his sensitive nature from reading a bad review of his poetry which in turn burst a blood vessel. Byron while not personally subscribing to that theory did make a sarcastic quip in reference to it in his latest narrative poem, Don Juan. Shelley meanwhile had immortalized Keats in his poetic tribute, Adonais.

-1822 saw Shelley, Byron, Leigh Hunt and others stationed near Livorno, Italy to finally piece together Shelley’s long awaited radical publication which attacked the politics of monarchy in England, an offense that in the 19th century could land one in prison. All three men had liberal or radical leanings and were also supportive of Italian nationalism rising up against the Austrian Empire & Papacy which ruled over much of Italy at the time which existed as multiple kingdoms and occupied territory than one state. For their politics and to avoid press coverage in England over personal scandals especially on Byron’s case, the three had exiled themselves to Continental Europe.

-However, in July 1822, just shy of his 30th birthday, Shelley while boating with another friend was caught in a storm at sea. Having never learned to swim, Shelley drowned and washed ashore days later. He was unrecognizable due to crabs eating his face but for a copy of a Keats’ poem Lamia kept in the pocket of his pants which he was known to have had on his person at the time of his boating excursion. In a dramatic scene on an Italian beach, Shelley’s body was cremated with Byron in attendance. His heart however was calcified and not reduced to ashes, instead Mary Shelley supposedly kept this as a keepsake and had it stored in a cabinet at her home in England until her own death where his heart was supposedly buried with her when she died decades later. Shelley’s ashes however were like Keats buried in the Protestant Cemetery in Rome, next to his son’s grave. Both poets graves are widely visited and the villa Keats died in is now the Keats-Shelley museum dedicated to both men with memorabilia contained therein, including Keats’ death bed.

-With Shelley’s death, the project for a radical publication died away. Byron tired of life in Italy after several years decided to join the Greek War of Independence then underway in revolt against centuries of Ottoman Turkish rule. Byron had hoped to use his celebrity and wealth to help finance Greek rebels and possibly be given command of troops despite no real military experience. Byron arrived in Greece in summer 1823 to find the rebels poorly organized and facing in-fighting. His next several months was coordinating the donation of loans to provide supplies and uniforms but he tried to avoid alienating different Greek factions. In April 1824, having contracted a fever and weakened like Keats with bleeding treatment via lancets and leeches and from this weakness he died of complications to his fever. He was age 36. His remains were embalmed and except for his heart were buried in England.

-Thus ended the second generation of English Romantic poets, all dead within three years of each other and none older than their mid-thirties.

-All three men are routinely taught at school and cited by subsequent generations of poets and writer as influences. Though often Byron and Shelley will be regarded for the quality of their work, their work is sometimes overshadowed by their tumultuous personalities, political outlooks and the many scandals that colored their lives. John Keats, relative to the other two major poets of his generation is generally only regarded for his work and his Odes in particular are regarded as among the finest examples of English language poetry in history, fulfilling his dream to be regarded as one of the great poets of the language, albeit posthumously...

#john keats #romantic poetry #romanticism #19th century #england #italy #fanny brawne #percy bysshe shelley #lord byron #mary shelley #leigh hunt #english language #poetry #1800s

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thisdancingheart · 4 years ago

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Remember YFIP?

My Year of Grief and Cancellation

What was I trying to accomplish with my anonymous Tumblr?

By Liat Kaplan Feb. 25, 2021, 5:00 a.m. ET https://www.nytimes.com/2021/02/25/style/your-fave-is-problematic-tumblr.html

If you were on Tumblr in the early 2010s, you may remember a blog called Your Fave Is Problematic. If not, its content should still sound familiar to you. The posts contained long lists of celebrities’ regrettable (racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, ethnophobic, ableist and so on) statements and actions — the stuff that gets people canceled these days.

That blog was my blog. I spent hours researching each post; as you can probably imagine, my search history was pretty ugly.

Your Fave Is Problematic had around 50,000 followers at its peak, in 2014, when I was a high school senior, but its influence was outsized. I got in a feud with a prominent young adult fiction author over his inclusion. One actor submitted himself, perhaps as a dare (or a plea) to dig up his worst. “Problematic fave” became a well-worn meme; even after I stopped posting, my blog was cited in books, articles, podcasts and think pieces. Through it all, my identity stayed private.

The blog started, as so many anonymous online projects do, as vengeful public shaming masquerading as social criticism. I was fine-tuning my moral compass and coming into my own as a feminist. So when I noticed classmates making sexist jokes on Facebook, including some about me, I started taking screenshots to post on a Tumblr called Calling Out Sexists. My policy was that I would take down a post only if its author publicly apologized.

A group of students brought the blog to the attention of our school’s administrators, who threatened to take legal action if I continued to write about them. Meanwhile, other Tumblr users had begun submitting screenshots featuring statements from minor celebrities. With graduation hanging in the balance, I shifted my focus away from my peers and toward public figures. I rebranded. Money and fame had protected them since time immemorial. What harm could my little blog do?

So I posted photos of Lady Gaga in V magazine with her skin bronzed to an unnatural brown. I pulled out troubling quotes from an essay Lena Dunham had written about a trip to Japan. I noted Taylor Swift’s since-changed homophobic lyric in “Picture to Burn.” My most popular posts tended to be about women — which makes sense, because the celebrity press tends to be more critical of them.

As it turned out, I had bigger things to worry about than dissecting the careers of celebrities I’d never met. On a winter morning, I woke up to the news that my older sister, Tamar, who was studying in Bolivia, had been in a bus crash, and the outlook was not good. I pored over research to escape from what felt like an impossible situation: my sister slowly dying of treatable injuries in a rural area thousands of miles away.

We held a public memorial service for Tamar in our hometown. Some of my classmates showed up, including a few who had written nasty things about me online. I found their shows of kindness insulting now, during what was quickly becoming the worst year of my life.

I tried going back to school after a few weeks, but I found myself picking frequent arguments with classmates and teachers. The school made an arrangement with my parents: I would be placed on “medical leave” for the remainder of the semester. I would graduate on time, but I wouldn’t return to campus.

Stuck at home, I devoted myself to Tumblr. What was I trying to accomplish? Mostly, I was interested in knocking people off their pedestals. I also enjoyed being popular, controversial, discussed. When a comedian I had posted about name-checked my blog on Twitter, I was giddy.

Then I started receiving threats. Someone sent me a screenshot of a house from Google Maps, claiming to have found my IP address. It wasn’t my house, but still. I realized that for every person on Tumblr who looked up to my blog, there were many more, online and offline, who hated it — and me. I started posting less and, eventually, stopped posting at all.

In the years since, I’ve looked back on my blog with shame and regret — about my pettiness, my motivating rage, my hard-and-fast assumptions that people were either good or bad. Who was I to lump together known misogynists with people who got tattoos in languages they didn’t speak? I just wanted to see someone face consequences; no one who’d hurt me ever had.

There’s something almost quaint about it all now: teenage me, teaching myself about social justice on Tumblr while also posturing as an authority on that very subject, thinking I was making a difference while engaging in a bit of schadenfreude. Meanwhile, other movements — local, global, unified in their purposes and rooted in progressive philosophies — were organizing for actual justice. Looking back, I was more of a cop than a social justice warrior, as people on Tumblr had come to think of me.

These days, there’s no shortage of online accountability efforts, the large part of them anonymously run. Some accounts post typically anodyne but occasionally explosive celebrity gossip. Others are explicitly aimed at naming, shaming and punishing people for all kinds of actions and missteps. My own work fell somewhere in the middle, I think; the information I posted was out in the open, but I was cataloging it to make a case against the veneration of the rich and famous.

As many have noted, the coronavirus pandemic has pronounced the distance between celebrities and the rest of us. And their actions have been subject to greater scrutiny — the vacations they’ve gone on, the parties they’ve held, the access they’ve had to testing and care during a health crisis that has taken millions of lives.

But celebrity culture began to crumble long before Covid-19. Mounting accusations of many kinds, whispered between industry professionals, had become too loud to ignore. Social media, which gave celebrities more control over their images and influence over their fans, also opened them up to new kinds of criticism. People have lost jobs and entire careers because of the kinds of errors my blog cited. Others have apologized for work and behavior that, re-examined in a contemporary context, just doesn’t hold up.

For years, I’ve regretted the spotlight I put on other people’s mistakes, as if one day I wouldn’t make plenty of my own. There can be an unsparing purity to growing into one’s social conscience that is often overbroad.

My brain wasn’t ready for nuance. I was angered by hypocrisy and cruelty; what I did about it was apply a level of scrutiny that left no room for error. I’m not saying that I should be canceled for my teenage blog. (Please don't!) I just know what we all should know by now: that no one who has lived publicly, online or off, has a spotless record.

For these reasons, I’ve thought about deleting my Tumblr. But doing that would mean erasing my own errors of judgment. I almost feel like I need to leave it up to punish myself for having made it in the first place. That, and I know someone could (and probably would) just pull it up on Wayback Machine. The internet, after all, never forgets.

~~~~~~~

#YFIP #fuck her and her lack of real remorse #25Feb2021 #NYT

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atinystar · 4 years ago

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@sevenmccns

Many things felt weird about her arrival to her father’s and uncle’s hometown. First her father just died, not due to the cancer that spread by his body, but rather the easier and faster route as some said, along her mother that cowardly didn’t want to face the world without her other half, having no regards for her own child, that suffered just as much, even if Morgan didn’t want to give that mind, since after all her parents never truly cared and she was nothing but an accessory. It still left a bad taste on her mouth when pondering about them in such a way, because in the end of the day, she knew her parents were surely a similar product of the media and the side effects fame had on people as she also was in part and in the end of the day, they were dead and the only parents she ever had, so she felt weird to think of them in such a way. She couldn’t help but still wonder if all of this her uncle was doing for her was to get his hands on the money, although he said that her nanny’s reasons could be those as at least he was family, he had reasons to care about his own niece and this would all mean that she was there, free, without any excuses to dip herself head first into recovery.

Either way, with a sigh, she finally left her uncle’s car after what seemed like at least fifteen minutes and observed the wooden large cabin he was living in by the rural area of the country and stood there with her hands by her sides once up, simply holding a small purse in one hand as he didn’t trust her to take anything else. “You should focus only on getting back on your feet.” He said, with a certain reason. Morgan had been extremely sick with an eating disorder as one of the means to cope with what went in her head and around her toxic life and now that she was there to recover, he sort of was being protective of her as her father should of had done.

“Let me at least help you with one bag? The smallest I brought, please?” She still offered, but he still shook his head as he came back out after a while, to reach in again for the trunk on the old vehicle to take out another bag with grunt, which had her feeling guilty, because she knew well she body checked herself in a few of the outfits she brought along, she knew they wouldn’t fit in a while if indeed managing to gain the weight, but the teenager wasn’t yet ready to get rid of them, although having her first step taken, which was admitting she had a problem.

“Wait a bit for us to be done, then -- I’d say we have something for lunch. Do you feel like you can do that for me? I thought we could go to a place nearby to eat and then show you around town?” The male suggested, uncertain of his words and what that would imply, since he didn’t understand the situation, but also didn’t meant to have her run back to the Hell hole she was by before or throw her into any place without knowing if what he was doing was right. Besides, he wasn’t even a girl or had anyone around, so he thought that going to the dinner, talking to the owner there and the girls there could maybe work? Maybe Jackson took a bigger bite than what he could chew by trying to help the girl, but he couldn’t also just stand there and continue to see his family ruin.

“I guess I can try? I don’t really know if I can enter there and really eat much, but I did agree that I needed help. I am here for that. I also could ask anyone if they know recovery centers. I don’t think I can do this on my own.” Her arms crossed as a protective measure, taking comfort in how her still loose sweater hugger her frail frame and nodded to her uncle, waiting for him to be done over with, so they could go to the said place to lunch or try to lunch in by. She felt the tension built up again, but instead of chasing another fight with her uncle, she just tried to cooperate and followed out into whom knew were with a deep sigh. She didn’t want to go, she didn’t want to eat, she didn’t want to face reality, nor what all happening meant, but she would at least try to.

#sevenmccns #xmorgan #(sensitive topics) cw #(sensitive content) cw #(anorexia) tw #(anorexia mention) cw #(emaciated body) tw #(toxic relationship) tw #(suicide mentioned) tw #(suicide) tw #(cancer) tw #(cancer mentioned) tw #(eating disorders mentioned) tw #(eating disorder) tw #(ED) tw

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codedredalert · 3 years ago

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thoughtful wedding gifts that will leave him speechless [One Piece, fantasy au] – Vinsmoke siblings

Whumptober 2021 No. 3 - taunting | insults | Who did this to you?

1195 words, lawsan arranged marriage fantasy au

tags/warnings: sibling violence, arranged marriage

( On Ao3 )

===/\===

to marry a prince, the bargain was made

and the maiden's voice taken in trade

His brothers pile into the bridal carriage, shit-eating grins on their identical faces, and Sanji is instantly on edge.

"Excited for your big day?" Ichiji asks.

"Bet you never thought you'd be useful to the family, huh?" Yonji laughs, clapping Sanji on the shoulder.

"You're getting their crown prince, y'know," Niji reminds him, as if Sanji could forget. "Not a bad deal for an artificial mage who can't do magic. Lucky for you he likes worthless blondes."

The three of them laugh like that was some sort of clever joke. Sanji sighs.

"Old news," he says, willing them to leave. Of course, no such luck.

"Actually, there's a new twist." Niji leans forward. "Apparently, he likes blondes but it's a see and not hear kind of deal. And e haven't gotten you a wedding gift yet."

"You can get out and stay far, far away," Sanji suggested with just the slightest touch of false cheer. "That'd make a great gift."

They laugh at his joke, which is never a good sign.

"How d'you feel about jewellery, bro?" Yonji asks. "Jewellery that goes 'kaboom'."

Grins stretch eerily wide and suddenly Yonji's hand holding his shoulder is pinning him to the high back of the seat and Niji has his other shoulder, and one knee across Sanji's lap to stop him from kicking. They grab his hands and pin them against the seat back. On the seat opposite, Ichiji sits back and grins.

"Get off me!" Sanji shouts, struggling, but they're stronger, they've always been stronger and they're actually mages. "The hell are you doing!?"

Green sparks to life around both his wrists, a ring of not-quite formed power, and then deep lightning blue joins it. Sanji tries to yank his hands away, but they have a good lock on him. He twists and headbutts Yonji and they both hiss. Yonji flinches and his shoulder shoves into Niji, whose head knocks into the wall where the driver sits outside. The magic around Sanji's wrists flickers unsteadily.

"What's going on in there?" the driver's voice calls.

"Keep driving!" Ichiji orders, a touch of power behind his words. The driver hesitates as he places the voice of one of his princes, even as Yonji curses and Niji backhands Sanji across the face.

"Yes, your highness," the driver says.

Sanji's right leg is free. He knees Yonji in the sternum, and then snaps it up at the knee for a high kick to catch Niji in the back of the head, sending him crashing into the driver's partition again. Niji's elbow lands on the tender part where Sanji's neck, ear and jaw meet, sending Sanji down onto the seat with a strange ringing in his head. He flails as a blow comes down on his eye, and nose, and then there's an outraged noise from Ichiji.

"You kicked me," he says, furious. He slams a boot down on Sanji's shin, and Sanji feels the bone crack. His knee comes up to catch under Sanji's jaw, where Niji's hand in his hair holds it in place.

"Get in here, bro," Yonji says. He has Sanji's arm in a joint lock now, one where he could snap Sanji's elbow the wrong way. He pulls and something wrenches, bruises, but doesn't quite break. "C'mon."

Ichiji's hand wraps around Sanji's forearm, and the other hand over his mouth and nose.

The magic flickers into shape around Sanji's wrists again. Green, then blue, and now neon red. They swirl into one, and then metal lays heavy and strangely alive against Sanji's skin.

"Listen, worm," Ichiji hisses. "One sound out of you, and these bracelets explode with enough force to take out this whole procession. Any non-augmented human will be blown to bits."

Sanji's eyes widen, then narrow, calling Ichiji's bluff. His brothers wouldn't kill him. They'd have nothing to deliver when the procession reached Dressrosa. Ichiji sees it.

"You count as augmented, dumbass," he says. "But it's still enough force to blow your hands clean off. You can kiss your beloved servant's work hobbies goodbye. Got it? Ah, no, don't answer, just nod."

Sanji swallows and nods. Ichiji pulls away and the other two follow his lead, leaving Sanji sprawled half on the seat and half on the floor. They sit to admire their work and Sanji glares at them, but doesn't move. At this point, he knows it'll be over faster if they gloat and leave.

"Hey," Yonji says after a moment as he and Niji get their breath back. "Maybe we should add a failsafe, for screaming and shit. For when he's getting—" he leers and makes an obscene hand gesture.

Sanji's face burns against the seat cushion and his brothers laugh but then pause to think about this.

After a moment, Ichiji half-stands, leaning over Sanji to avoid hitting his head against the roof.

"Hm," Ichiji hums, looking down at him through his dark glasses. He taps his finger on his arm once, twice in thought. Sanji doesn't dare to breathe too loud in case that sets off the bracelets.

"Nah," he says. "Too much work."

Yonji and Niji snicker.

"Yeah, true."

"Good point. You hear that, Sanji?" A blue-gloved hand pats his cheek in a mockery of affection. "Just don't scream like a little bitch and you'll be fine."

They hop out of the carriage, laughing before taking off, the sygaldry in their armour lighting up as it activated. With a step each of them vanished off to terrorise the rural Dressrosan countryside, taking a mile with every step. Sanji lays across the seat and floor, breathing slowly. The bracelets are simple silvery bands that catch too much light and have an almost pearlescent quality to them. There is no opening or join or clasp on them, no point of weakness or removal.

A few times, Sanji tries to pull himself up, but with the jolting of the carriage, and the broken shin, it's all he can do to stay quiet without moving too much. He waits for his accelerated healing to take care of his new injuries, and with nothing to do except stare at the inside of the roof, 'accelerated' felt slower than ever.

At some rest stop or another, the procession halts, and the door opens.

His sister's voice gasps.

"Sanji, who did this to you?"

Sanji doesn't answer, of course. He shakes his head slightly as she helps him back up on the seat and checks his injuries, a frown across her pretty pink-painted lips.

Her eyes catch the new bracelets, and the iridescent sheen of the tandem magic that real mages struggle so much with and the Germa princes are famed and feared for. It doesn't take a Germa spymaster to figure out what must have happened.

"Oh, Sanji," Reiju sighed, her eyes shining with almost-pity for him, for the closest thing that could pass for pity in the Germa royals.

But she is the Germa princess, and spymaster, and diplomat. She will not let him go as she once did, so long ago, and he does not ( cannot ) ask.

===/END\===

( On Ao3 ) ( patreon ) ( kofi ) ( paypal )

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soldouthaz · 4 years ago

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hey! beneath the cut you’ll find a list of fics I've read and re-read this month. it’s been almost two months since my last rec so I thought I would update you guys just in case!

as always, the fics are marked with their details as well as if it is b!L, b!H, or smut free. please make sure to pay attention to this if it’s something that you’re interested in and only interact with the ones that align with your tastes. be kind and considerate and always think about leaving a nice comment or kudos or reblog if you read! I think everyone could use some positivity right now :)

I'm also putting together a list of halloween themed fics coming out in October so make sure to look out for that as well!

happy reading!

read this month

✰ loving you’s a bloodsport by @rosesau 106k | royal au | no smut

harry is a bratty prince, louis is a guard who works in his palace, and niall is the only one who's got his life in control. as someone once said: this is not a love story, but love is in it. that is, love is just outside it, looking for a way to break in.

✰ take my whole life too by @goodmorninglou 18k | dom/sub | WIP | b!L

Louis knows three things, at the base of it all.

He likes when Harry hurts him. He doesn’t know why, not really, but he knows that he likes it. Likes giving up control, likes feeling small and taken care of, likes being praised for taking whatever Harry gives him for as long as he gives it.

He and Harry are meant to be. No matter what time they finally fall together, what day, what age, what place, the moment that they do, that’ll be it. It’s going to be them against everyone else, hand in hand for the rest of their lives. That’s been a given since they met. The half of Louis’ soul that’s missing is Harry’s.

And, sans those two things, he doesn’t really know much of anything at all.

✰ quiet people have the loudest minds by @2tiedships2 38k | a/b/o | heavily implied b!L

The one where Louis is a nonverbal omega who has accepted the fact that he will never find an alpha that will treat him as an equal. On the other hand, he’s never met anyone like Harry.

✰ there’s nothing like it, nothing at all by @falsegoodnight 15k | dom/sub | b!L | sequel

Harry isn’t ready for things to change, and the end is just the beginning.

✰ filthy musings by @smrwine 55k | one shots | b!L

A collection of drabbles for your reading pleasure.

✰ fuck u betta by @jacaranda-bloom 11k | PWP | b!L

There’s something about having Louis like this, exposed and desperate, that makes a primal urge bubble up from deep inside Harry’s chest. Desire mixed with something else, something unquantifiable. It’s the thing that makes them want this, need this. Nothing else will satisfy them or quench their thirst.

OR the one where Harry likes the thrill of the chase, Louis likes to be chased, and everyone gets what they need… in the end.

✰ three days in february by @mercurial-madhouse / writing_practice 189k | slight magic | b!L

Louis is cursed after a night out with the lads and the five have just three days to figure out what happened and how to break it before Harry and Louis both lose their sanity and maybe something more. Louis can hear everything Harry thinks and Harry isn’t sure he can keep his feelings for Louis a secret from his own mind.

✰ works like a charm by @falsegoodnight 18k | hogwarts au | b!L

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along.

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

✰ kings by dolce_piccante 13k | marcel fic | no smut

Marcel receives an invitation to his ten year high school reunion, which brings up some painful memories of his youth. His lifelong best friend and roommate, Louis, is as supportive and kind as ever, but Marcel still has hesitations. Louis was Prom King. Marcel...was not.

Will Marcel make the reunion a night to remember with his former classmate, Zayn, who is newly wealthy, handsome, and reveals his childhood crush on Marcel? Or will Louis finally realize what everyone else has known all along?

✰ until by @allwaswell16 38k | cowboy harry | b!L

✰ tastes like strawberries by @sadaveniren 5k | a/b/o | b!L*

I’m stressed. I’m nesting and demand cuddles. Come over

Harry frowned and double checked who the text was from. Yup, it still said Louis - Grad, which meant it was from Louis from his grad school.

aka Louis texts Harry by mistake. It works out.

re-read this month

✰ until I found you by @comebackassholes / dimpled-halo 45k | a/b/o | b!H

Harry Styles is the popstar of the century, or so the media proclaims. He’s linked to every omega he’s seen with, donned as an alpha lothario who isn’t ready to settle down any time soon. His team works hard to publicise him as an alpha who can’t keep his knot in his pants, but not everything is as it seems.

Louis Tomlinson, an aspiring musician working as a porn star and camboy, is waiting for his big break. When he meets Harry Styles he can’t stand the alpha that only uses his power and fame to bed as many omegas as possible. He runs into him at a party and hopes to never see him again only to find that Harry’s assistant is dating Louis’ best friend. To make matters worse, Harry’s about to embark on a world tour and is in need of a guitarist at the last minute, an opportunity Zayn uses to put in a good word for Louis.

What happens when the opportunity that Louis has been waiting for finally comes, but at the price of having to share the stage with one Harry Styles?

✰ makes perfect by checkthemargins 8k | feminization | b!L

"What if you practiced on like, a mannequin?" Louis presses. "Or one of those blow up sex dolls? Or even just like, I don't know, a pillow or something. Whatever it'd fit around."

Harry tilts his head thoughtfully, curls catching the light so entrancingly that Louis finds himself reaching up to push his fingers through them. "It's different, though, innit? When it's a real person. A pillow won't snog me."

"Why should it?" says Louis. "You can't even take its bra off."

✰ confessions of a fabricated alpha by @jaerie 18k | a/b/o | b!H

Famous alpha Harry Styles has a secret and paying an alpha to roleplay a relationship with him over the phone is the only way he can be himself.

✰ like a siren in the night by @crazyupsetter 24k | a/b/o | b!L

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

fics that have been featured in #ficrecfriday so far

✰ loving you’s a bloodsport (x)

✰ into the midnight sun (x)

✰ bruise you like a peach (x)

✰ push you out, pull you back in (x)

if you guys need any more recs, please be sure to check out @cheershalo ‘s blog for her fic recs! they’re amazing and I can’t wait to see what other lists are coming soon!! :)

happy reading! remember to be kind and keep calm <3

#fic recs #monthly recs #my fic recs

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what-big-teeth · 5 years ago

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Heal (Male Fae ; Fic Raffle)

And done! @serenitydusk requested a story with the female reader being a witch who encounters a male fae. Like I said before, my muse grabbed hold to her wonderful ideas and refused to let go until there was story that incorporated those elements (all 11 eleven pages worth). So I hope you all enjoy this fic!

tw: blood ; injury ; attempted break in Female Reader (POV) x Male Monster The forest is alive in more ways than one.

The verdant green of the trees and underbrush is near blinding. The shade of the rich soil almost appears jet black. And the scent of the fresh blooms is short of addictive; almost mouthwatering.

All signs of the Fae.

You’ve known this fact ever since you moved to the outskirts of your picaresque, rural town. The power ebbing and flowing from the surrounding land told you as much. You haven’t pinpoint the exact source, and you’re fine with not knowing.

Some stones are better left unturned.

You know the land you live on is not your own. So you leave offerings near the thickening edge of the forest, where the old trail has been reclaimed by nature. Today, you offer a small jar of honey, freshly gathered from a nearby hive; untouched, chilled milk in a glass bottle; and healing salves neatly packed and tied in dense cloth. The latter is always gone when you return to give more offerings the next day.

Since you’ve begun paying your respects, in return, your decrepit cottage has slowly recovered from the damage caused by time and the elements. The musty scent covered up by the herbal bundles hanging from the ceiling has turned naturally sweet. The molded cracks and leaks in the walls and roof no longer exist. And most importantly, your meager foraging has grown bountiful, leaving you with an excess of ingredients to use. Most of it for your famed healing salves and ointments. You can’t help but smile knowing your work is just as popular among the Good Neighbors as it is among the townsfolk.

Which is why today, you’re able to head into town to answer a house call.

You tuck away another container of pain-relieving ointment then slide the top of your leather satchel in place. After a final glimpse at your cold hearth and sun-filled workshop, you set off.

The main path into town leads eastward, past two, towering rows of conifers. Their citrus, piney scent engulfs you with every step.

By the time you reach the town’s entrance, the sun is almost high in the sky. The townsfolk are up and about with many greeting you cordially. You do the same, but keep pace towards your destination. A few fallen leaves and pine needles cling to your light cloak; you know the fabric is suffused with the forest’s scent. Your patient won’t mind, but her caretaker may be offended.

Once your feet carry you down a narrow, cobbled street and to a bold, blue door, you lift your hand and give the barrier three solid knocks. There isn’t enough time to pluck away every needle and dust off every leaf before the door wrenches opens.

Roderick regards you with a critical eye, as if the piercing stare will send you scuttling back to your cottage. You stand your ground instead, and give him a pleasant, practiced smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Tate. I’m here for Mrs. Hale‘s weekly house call.”

You quickly learned to never call Edith anything but Mrs. Hale in his presence. The first time you did, your affront nearly left you without the gold coin and tip she promised you. So you adapted and now tread carefully, letting Roderick hear what he’d prefer. But great god and goddess if he didn’t make your attempts at pleasantries difficult.

Roderick hums low then steps away from the threshold. You swiftly enter in case he decides to change his mind.

“Mother is near the hearth. She insisted on preparing some tea,” he says, voice tightening. “‘For our guest’”, she said.

Roderick can barely think of you as such thanks to how you’ve proclaimed yourself a witch. You hope, with time, he’ll slowly come around. Just as many of the other townsfolk have.

You thank him and follow him the short distance to the kitchen. Edith sits at their small dining table, her wizened, deep brown hands clutching the steaming mug before her. Her wide nose flares as she inhales the vapors as the fresh scent of peppermint prickles your nose. One of your favorites.

“Roddy, is that the healer?” Her dark, rheumy eyes squint in your direction and her wrinkled face lifts with a smile. “It’s so good to see you, my dear.”

“Likewise, ma’am.”

As much as you wish to greet her properly with a hug or a pat to the back of her hand, you ignore the urge. Roderick could easily kick you out for not treating his mother-in-law with the “proper respect”. Instead, you remove your satchel and take the empty seat across from her.

“Roddy,” she says, “be a dear and pour our guest some tea, will you?”

You glance at Roderick; he looks as if he’s swallowed a bitter draught. But he does as his mother-in-law asks then stands at the kitchen entrance, like a sentinel. No matter. You’re here for Edith and her alone.

As you both chat about summer’s approach and her change in hairstyle, you examine her hands. You carefully bend each finger, checking her expression for any signs of pain. None. You then move on to her wrists and see her twinge at the slight movement.

“It’s better than it was before,” she says.

“That’s good, but I’d still like you to keep using the compress and herbal infusion. Warm the infusion and apply it three times a day, as before.”

“Yes, yes. Roddy will help me, won’t you dear?”

As you place some lengths of cotton wool and dried herbs for the infusion on the table, the crinkle of Roderick’s lips and nose lessens.

“Of course, Mother. You only need to ask.”

Edith smiles beatifically before her mouth falls open.

“Oh, you haven’t finished your tea.”

With the way Roderick’s nostrils flare, you know you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“What I managed to have was delicious,” you say, patting the back of her free hand. “I should get going.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner? Roddy can walk you back to your cottage afterwards.”

His gritted jaw says otherwise. You kindly decline Edith’s invitation and gather your satchel.

Roderick leads you to the front door, holding it open as you pass through. A harsh jingling from his person draws your attention.

“Here,” he says, thrusting a leather pouch your way. “Your coin.”

You carefully take it from his tense, outstretched hand.

“Thank—”

The door slams shut.

“...you.”

The bustle from the town’s main square drifts through the air. With a sigh, you turn back the way you came. There are a few items you need to purchase before returning home.

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

Like many times before, your offering of healing salves has vanished from where you’ve left it. But surprisingly, so has the fresh honey and milk. That hasn’t happened before. Believing this to be a good sign, you smile and walk back in the direction of your cottage.

You arrive just as the sun has nearly vanished beneath the horizon, before the more natural denizens of the forest have fully awakened. You slide the wooden security bar in front of the door and light your hearth, as you do every night. Your mouth stretches open in a wide yawn, but you ignore the temptation to bathe and curl up in your bed. There are some herbs that need to be hung for drying and your recent tincture needs to be strained. So first—

You hear a knock at the door.

Your brows knit together; you’re not expecting any company. The townsfolk know better than to venture into the forest so close to nighttime.One knock becomes two. Then three, four, five. Silence. You only hear the chirping and buzzing of the usual nocturnal insects. The tight grip on your cloak loosens. Perhaps the person has—

A dull “thwack” sounds against the door. It’s followed by a creaking wrench and a deep grunt of effort. Then again and again. You know the sounds intimately. You’ve passed by men from the town felling trees for firewood in the fall.

The person outside is breaking in.

You nearly lose your footing backing away from the source of the sound. Your gaze darts around your workshop. The knives you own aren’t meant for injuring or self-defense. They pale in comparison to a sharpened axe.

The axe bites into the door with more force. The wood groans. Splinters. The blade hits true again. You see a hint of it through the door. Your stomach roils.

But you manage to swallow your scream. You refuse to give the intruder any pleasure from the palpable fear gripping your chest. Even as your lungs struggle to draw in air, you whip around and grab one of your paring knives. You aim it towards the door and brace yourself for what’s to come next.

There’s a pained yell, mingled with a sharp curse. A growl then an animalistic scream, aimed away from your door. Grunts and groans, which you recognize as signs of struggling. They’re cut off by a weighty ‘thud’ and a lighter one that swiftly follows. The sounds of the forest are muted and you stand unharmed in one piece. But how?

With slow careful steps, you edge towards the damaged door. You place your paring knife on the floor and slide the security bar away, swiftly picking up your knife once the plank is secured.

The would-be intruder lays on the ground in a crumpled heap, their face pressed into the grass. An arrow pierces their flesh just beneath their shoulder, its fletching of hawk feathers ruffling in the night’s breeze. You can’t help but wince; for the shot to have fractured bone, the strength behind such an attack had to be enormous.

Looking up, you see the source of that strength.

Your savior stands half a stone’s throw away, cloaked in shadows. What little light remains from the sinking sun acts as a backlight, revealing his silhouette. You’re able to see the outline of their quiver and longbow. They’re of humanoid shape, but something about his head makes you uncertain.It’s then you realize the odd shapes framing his head are large, curled horns. And see the glowing, green pinpoints staring at you. Not human. But fae.

Neither of you move from where you stand. Part of you wants to, however, not wishing to incur the wrath of this Kindly Neighbor. But you’re frozen where you stand. Perhaps by his power.

“You are unharmed?”

The masculine voice would be soothing if not for the rasping edges surrounding it. He sounds injured, but you have no way of confirming your suspicions. You swallow against the nervous lump in your throat.

“Yes, I am. I…appreciate your aid and concern.”

The fae scoffs.

“Your thanks is misplaced,” he says. “I’m merely reinforcing the laws of the forest established by its ruler. Nothing more.”

A groan interrupts your thoughts on how to continue the conversation. The bulky, would-be intruder shifts his head against the ground, turning their tanned face away from the dirt. You’re able to make out his features thanks to your lit hearth, and find them familiar.Roderick isn’t the only one in town who is wary of you. But he is the most forward with his actions and words. The man lying near your home is one of his friends.

You stifle the curse building behind your tongue. The fae have never condoned vulgarity and you don’t wish to make things worse in this delicate situation.

“You should return indoors,” the fae says suddenly. “And find a way to deafen your hearing.”

A sharp chill rushes down your spine.

“May I ask why?”

You think you hear his grip clench tighter around his bow.

“This man’s actions have assured his death.”

Your stomach plummets as your mouth opens before you’re able to stop it.

“Please don’t!”

The unnatural silence amplifies the pounding in your head. The fae hisses, his body shifting in a stilted manner as he hunches forward to guard his middle. So he is injured.

“And why should I show him mercy?” he rasps out.

“This man has family and friends,” you say. “If they came to search for him, they could disrupt the peace of the town and the forest in general. I don’t wish for any innocents to accidentally bring the forest’s wrath onto their heads because of him.”

Because not even you, who many of the townsfolk believe to be powerful, wish to incur the wrath of the forest itself.

The fae says nothing in return and you fear he’ll deny your request. After a strong heartbeat, you speak again.

“Please do this and I’ll tend to your wounds until you fully heal.”

Your sense of logic catches up to you and decries your words as dangerous. You know what the Kindly Ones do for anyone must be repaid in kind by their own terms. But you don’t take them back. Because avoiding any harm befalling the townsfolk is better than having it seep into the town or fall upon it like sudden deluge. This thought alone keeps your gaze stalwart as the night settles around you.

“Done.”

The weight of your agreement settles beneath your skin and latches onto your bones. It’s a warning; if you don’t uphold your end of the bargain, the oath will find another way. One that’s more grievous.

The fae stalks over to the fallen man. His ram skull mask and long, inky, black hair coming into view. He slowly hefts Roderick’s friend up onto his feet with a claw-tipped hand. If it weren’t for the bloodied slash interrupting the pale white skin of his torso, you believe he could do so without effort. Surprisingly, Roderick’s friend groans then startles, crying out as he agitates his injury.

“Listen to me.”

An otherworldly reverberation bolster’s the fae voice. Roderick’s friend goes ramrod straight.

“You will run back home like the cur you are. You will tell the one who sent you how displeased I am. And if he should step foot in this forest, my hounds will hunt him down and rend him apart. Then come for you.”

The man screams as if facing death incarnate. And in a way, he is. The fae releases him and he runs down the path into town. The fae snorts at the sight, swaying unsteadily.

“One last thing,” he says, his gaze finding yours. “Do not remove my mask.”

He then falls over in a heap.

The forest comes to life again moments later, as if the last few occurrences never happened. You curse freely, the reality of your situation becoming apparent. Clenching your jaw so as not to hear your teeth chatter, you rush over towards the fae. The rhythmic rise and fall of his bloodstained chest makes you sigh with relief.

It takes a great deal of strength and energy—neither which you barely have due to the long day—to drag him inside. It’s only after securing your home again that you keep hauling him towards the rug before the hearth. Sweat beads your brow once you finish. One obstacle done. Checking over his injury reveals some stemming thanks to the clumpings of dried blood. That gives you enough time to create a makeshift bed and gather what you need. Warm water, pieces of cotton cloth, ointment and healing salve…

The blood that once stained his skin now clings to your hands. But thanks to your attentiveness, the injury is concealed beneath a generous amount of medicine and two layers of cotton cloth. Your patient shifts against the thick quilt and pillows beneath him. A good sign.

“You’ll need to remain here for a few days for the wound to heal properly.” You rub your clean forearm against your clammy brow. “Is that alright?”

“Whatever it takes to hide my moment of weakness,” he rumbles curtly.

You resist the urge to curl your lip. He’ll be just fine.

“Shall I leave the hearth lit for you?”

“No need. I can sleep without it.”

With an accepting hum, you place a blanket onto his brown breeches, ensuring it doesn’t touch his wound.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. Pleasant dreams.”

A sense of wrongness almost overcomes you with him inside your home. Luckily, you’re able to stave it off. You know you’ve done the right thing. You’ve saved an innocent family from the attention of the fae. You’ve saved a guilty if foolish man from a pain worse than death. These realizations bolster you, becoming a calming mantra.As you finish straining your tincture and hanging your herbal bundles to dry, you feel as if you’re being watched. You refuse to turn and confirm this, your shoulders hunching.

“Conall,” he says.

You nearly drop the damp, clean sieve in your hand.

“Pardon?”

“You may call me Conall. It should help make my temporary stay easier.”

He falls silent immediately after. It’s only after ensuring the green pinpoints have vanished that you heat up your bathing water, douse the hearth, and retreat to your room.You hope he heals and leaves soon; time cannot pass fast enough. But you know it won’t.

Slumber pricks at your mind and it coaxes you into unawareness.

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The awkward tension between you and Conall rears its head the next day. He accepts the food, drink, and aid you provide without a word. Which you are more than satisfied with. The only thing that stirs your annoyance is his staring.

Perhaps Conall hasn’t seen a human up close going through their usual routine. Or he hasn’t been inside of a human home. Either way, you feel the vivid pinpoints that are his eyes follow you when your back is turned. The strain comes to a head two days later, when Conall’s injury has begun scaring.

“What is it?” you snap.

If Conall is surprised by your tense words, you can’t tell due to his mask. It only serves to infuriate you more.

“You’ve stared at me as if trying to look right through me, even though I’m doing what I can to ensure your health. Yes, this is part of our original bargain. But I will not be made into some object in my own home! Why is it that you stare so much?”

Hints of frigid fear attempt to douse your building irritation. You stifle them easily, expecting a snide response.

“You are worth looking at,” he says. “Especially in my eyes.”

A new heat replaces your searing temper. One that floods your cheeks and heats your blood. Your mouth snaps shut and you swiftly finish wrapping cotton cloth around his torso.

“Y-Your injury is nearly healed,” you say, standing up and hurrying towards your filled basin. Thrusting your hands into the chilly water does nothing to help. “You should be able to move easily now. Perhaps leave in a few more days.”

“That is good to know, healer.” You hear something akin to mirth in his tone. “Perhaps I will get to see more of that fire you have hidden before then.”

You flee moments later, as much as you’re later loathed to admit. Even worse, his words stay lodged in your thoughts even into the next day. But that isn’t the only change you notice.

Conall begins to compliment your cooking, sincerely stating how comforting it is. He even aids you while you wrap his torso with fresh cotton cloth by holding it in place. During one long day after a promised house call, you find him asleep before the lit hearth. As expected. But the bundle of vivid, wildflowers awaiting you at the table is new.

So is the smile it brings to your lips and how you welcome it.

Soon enough, Conall begins to ask you about your house calls. About seeing Edith weekly. About Lucas, the little boy with golden-brown skin whose illness you’re monitoring. It isn’t surprising when the talks veer into more personal territory. He asks about your favored places in the forest and in town. What sweets you prefer. How you gather the offerings you leave near the forest’s edge.

“But how did you…”

Your voice trails off as his gaze darts away from yours. You smile and place your spoon into your cooling stew.

“I take it my healing salve is of the greatest use to you?”

Conall hums, lifting another bite of dinner underneath the pointed edge of his mask.

“The honey and milk are not unwelcomed,” he murmurs. “Perhaps that can be said about other things as well.”

This time, his eyes meet yours. And with a small thrill, you realize the sight of them no longer frightens you. Before your bravery leaves, you reach across your table and place your hand on the back of his.

“I agree.”

Your smile falters. As much as you wish to not ruin this peaceful moment, reality nudges at your mind like always.

“You’ll be leaving soon, won’t you?”

Conall pulls his hand away. Only to gently thread his fingers through yours, being careful of his claws. But he still skims your skin with them, making your shiver.

“Yes. But I will return, if you wish to wait for me.”

The breath you take is silent, but heavy. You release it as you laugh, happiness bubbling up from inside you.

“I do. For however long it takes.”

That night, before bed, Conall calls for you. As you kneel beside his makeshift bed in your nightshirt, he lifts his hand and cups your cheek. With his other hand slowly lifting his mask, he closes the distance between you. His lips press against your skin, then trail down the side of your neck before resting at your pulse. He lingers there, then gently scrapes his sharp teeth against the area. Your self-control nearly shatters then and there as he pulls away, replacing his mask.

“When the morning comes, I will be gone.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “But when I return, I plan to continue where I left off.”

You lift your own hand to touch the back of his.

“Can I know one thing before you go?”

He nods.

“Why is it you can’t remove your mask?”

His thumb stroking the warm skin of your cheek pauses stiffly before resuming.

“This...is my punishment for my recklessness,” he says. “It’s one of many shackles binding me to the Queen who rules over these lands and lands beneath the hills. As long as she holds them, I’ll never truly be free. All of my being will solely belong to her. My thoughts, my appearance, my strength, my skill. Anyone who attempts to remove those bindings will face her wrath. But no more.

“I have something precious to fight for and see again. Even if I have to challenge every member of her Hunt; even if I have to face her head on, I promise I will prevail. So that one day, you’ll find me standing before you, utterly freed.”

Hot tears slip from your eyes and he patiently wipes them away.

“I accept your bargain,” you say. He coaxes you closer, pulling you into a warm embrace. Even with your nightshirt acting as a barrier, you commit the feeling of what skin touches yours to memory.

Morning wakes you with a slight chill in the air. You lay on Conall’s makeshift bed a bit longer, inhaling the fading scent of him: deep and heady like the forest after a strong rain. This, too, you lock away in your heart as you stand to your feet. All that’s left to do is to wait.

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Days become weeks. And weeks turn into months. Soon enough, the harvesting festival is nearly here with the townsfolk preparing for the festivities. You still make your usual house calls, some to newer patients and others to familiar ones.

Little Lucas has long overcome his illness and is happy to play with the other children again. Edith always has a cup of herbal tea with honey ready for you, glad to talk to you about anything and everything. Roderick is nowhere to be found during these visits. But the few times you do glimpse him, he looks at you with muted fear. He may never change.

But at least now, he knows you aren’t to be trifled with.

That evening, after the festival, you finish creating another batch of ointment as the harvest moon illuminates the night sky. Fatigue slows your attempts at cleaning your tools, but you manage to finish the task. A series of knocks on your door startles you. Forgetfulness and drowsiness are to blame for you not securing your door.

Wary, you silently take the sharp dagger gifted to you by Edith a few weeks ago. You slowly walk towards the door and open it.

A shirtless man with vivid green pupils surrounded by black peers down at you. The scar running against the bridge of his straight, pale white nose nearly interrupts his entire face. One of the pointed tips of his ears is missing, replaced by a healing scab. But it and its twin are framed by familiar curling horns as is his head. His ragged yet long inky, black hair shifts as he sways. A wet gasp tears from your throat as he pitches forward and you break his fall.

“Conall!”

He buries his nose into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The hot breath he releases is tempered with a soft kiss on your skin.

“How I’ve missed this scent.”

A laugh slips out of you before you can stop it. You hold him close, sniffling against your tears.

“It seems I’m injured yet again,” he mutters wryly, sounding tired.

You place a hand against your beloved Conall’s cheek as he grins, being careful of the green bruising.

“I’ll take care of you,” you say. “If you’ll let me.”

The weight of your promise settles into your bones, palpable but not unpleasant. It even sends a shiver down your spine. Or is that caused by Conall’s warm smile?

You’re not sure. But at this moment, you don’t mind not knowing. Not as you close the distance between the two of you. Before the warmth of his kiss is all you know, he whispers against your skin.

“As long as I can do the same for you.”

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