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thetravelerwrites · 3 years

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DuMont (Part 3) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Female Elf Ranger/Male Tiefling Barbarian Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tiefling, Elf, Kobold, Half Elf, Human, Rogue, Bard, Barbarian, Ranger, Mage, Wizard, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Sex, Third Person Perspective Words: 3839

Kharis seems dissatisfied with DuMont's... performance, so DuMont intends to ask for advice from Rupert. Things don’t go as planned. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Why do you do that?” Kharis asked as she and DuMont lay in their bed of straw and furs together.

They were sheltering in a run down barn on the outskirts of the nearest town. Rupert, Sanoh, and Norman were at an inn, but DuMont was too large to fit through most doors. Kharis decided to stay with DuMont instead of enjoying the comforts of the inn, which usually meant she was feeling frisky.

“Do what?” DuMont asked, looking over at her in confusion.

She sighed. “Ask me if I’m okay every time I make a noise when we have sex? And you’re always so gentle, like I’m made of glass and you’re scared you’re going to hurt me.”

“I am scared of that,” He replied, propping himself up on his elbow to look down at her. “I could injure you very easily if I’m not careful. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Kharis sighed discontentedly and reached up to scratch his chest absentmindedly. “It’s not that I don’t like the gentleness. It’s sweet. But I wish you would lose control sometimes, take charge, be spontaneous. Just grab me and fuck me senseless without even saying anything. I’m always the one who tells you what to do, and trust me I love giving orders, but I’d love it if you told me to just shut up and suck your dick once in a while.”

DuMont grimaced. “I don’t think I’d feel right, saying something like that.”

“That’s kind of my point, darling,” She said, sitting up with a slight chuckle. “You’re too pure for your own good sometimes. It’s growing up in that church that did it, it must be. What did that caretaker of yours tell you about sex?”

“That it was mostly a trap set by women to steal a man’s money. He was rather bitter about some woman in his past, I think, though he never talked about it.”

Kharis snorted. “That tracks. Look, it’s not like I want you to treat me badly or be cruel to me. It’s not about being gross or vulgar or wanting to hurt me, it’s about being aggressive, feral, demanding. Using my body to get what you want. When that’s done the right way, it’s so sexy. And I’m giving you consent to do it, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“But I don’t know how to do that without hurting you,” He said, mildly frustrated.

Kharis sighed again. “I know, angel. It’s alright, don’t worry yourself too much over it. We’ll figure it out.” She rolled into him and snuggled against his body. “Get some sleep. We need to be up and moving before dawn. Love you.”

“Love you,” DuMont echoed, curling his body around hers and making sure she was as warm as he could make her.

Kharis fell asleep pretty quickly, but DuMont was unable to fall asleep for some time. He replayed the conversation with Kharis over and over in his mind, trying to parse what it was she wanted. Did she really want him to hurt her or be violent with her? That couldn’t be right. When he was violent, he killed people. He didn’t even mean to kill people sometimes, it just happened. He was still trying to gauge his strength and he often failed. How could he be forceful with her and not end up injuring her, or even killing her?

Maybe he could ask Rupert or Norman. Rupert and Sanoh were… very active… almost as active as he and Kharis were, but they both had more experience than he did. Norman was known to hire companions frequently, so he had different partners often. Norman and Rupert might be able to help.

The next day, the five of them came upon something that they hadn’t encountered in their travels: a proper bathhouse. It was lavish and resplendent and wildly out of place in this little town.

“Oh! Look!” Kharis said, pointing excitedly. “Look how big the doors are! DuMont, you’ll fit! We should splurge a little! We made a ton of gold from our last job and I haven’t had a bath that wasn’t in a cold pond in ages. Please, let’s go!”

“I’m totally down for this,” Sanoh said. “My scales have been so dry and itchy. I think I’m getting ready to molt.” She grimaced and scratched at her arm, which did look a bit flaky. “I hate molting. I’m out of commission for a solid week. It’s such an inconvenience.”

“How often do you molt?” Norman asked.

“Once a year. The good news is, once I’m done we can sell the skin for a good price. People grind it up and use it as a wound paste.”

“That’s actually fascinating,” Rupert said. “I wonder what magical properties your sheds might have.”

“Yeah, that’s great and totally not gross at all, are we doing this or what?” Kharis said impatiently.

“Sure, sure,” Norman said. “As long as we’re not spending all our money, it’s fine.”

The four of them started forward toward the building, but DuMont hesitated. Kharis doubled back.

“You okay, big guy?” She asked, patting his arm.

“Are you sure you want me to come in with you?” He asked apprehensively.

“Of course!” Kharis said. “Have you ever had a proper bath before?”

“I don’t think so,” He said.

“Then this could be an opportunity for you. Come get pampered with us. It’s fun.”

DuMont groused uncertainly, but he allowed Kharis to drag him into the bathhouse.

DuMont felt very out of place inside the pastel walls of the parlor, looking around at the delicate figurines and statues with discomfort and attempting to make himself smaller. The hostess, an elven woman, looked at him warily but greeted them all brightly.

“Welcome to the Rushing Waters Baths. Will you be needing separate rooms or a communal room this evening? The separate rooms are more private, but also more expensive.”

“One for the boys and one for the girls?” Rupert asked.

“Sounds good to me,” Kharis said. “Do you have one big enough for my sweetheart here?” She patted DuMont’s arm.

The elven woman looked him up and down appraisingly. “Unfortunately, I think the only bath that will fit him is the public bath. However, we have no other customers at the moment, so he will have it to himself.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Kharis said. “You’ll get to stretch your legs and soak for a while.”

DuMont grunted. “Thank you,” He said, addressing the hostess. His deep, low voice rattled the shelves slightly.

“We also offer laundering services,” The hostess said. “Simply leave your clothing on the shelves at the exterior of the bathing rooms and a silver for the service.”

DuMont looked down at himself and the simple loincloth he wore for modesty’s sake. He also donned a simple coat that Kharis had fashioned for him out of some large drapes for when it started getting cold. She wasn’t a great seamstress and the coat was a little haphazard and slapdash, but DuMont had treasured the gift and rarely took it off.

He had money now for the first time in his life, but there wasn’t many places that made clothing in his size. He could commission something, he supposed, but considering how often he ended up covered with dirt and blood, there wasn’t much point.

“You will need to leave your… weapons,” She glanced at the massive church bell tied to a post that DuMont used as a bludgeon. “At the door, of course. They will also be cleaned.”

“This is a strange place to be in the middle of such a small town,” Norman said.

“We’re a resort town, actually,” The hostess replied in a chipper tone that made Kharis roll her eyes.

“A what?” DuMont asked.

“It’s a town rich people build so they can pretend to be simple country folk while looking down their noses at them at the same time,” Kharis said in an undertone. The hostess frowned at her.

“How much for two private rooms and the public bath?” Sanoh asked, redirecting the hostess’s attention.

“The public bath is only two copper, and another copper for soap,” The hostess replied, still eyed Kharis while disfavor. “For two private baths, it’s six silver. Soap and towels are provided.”

“Do you provide companionship?” Norman asked.

“Wait until we get to the inn, Norm!” Rupert said. “I don’t want to be in the room with you when you have your fun!”

“Prude,” Norman sniffed.

“We actually own the inn, as well,” The hostess said. “You can book your rooms and companionship here for later, if you’d like.”

“Good, let’s do that,” Norman said.

It took a few minutes for them to iron out all the details while DuMont stood in the back awkwardly. He then waited while his friends were led to their own bathing rooms.

Before he could be taken to the public bath, he asked the hostess, “Could I visit my friends’ room? I’d like to ask their advice privately.”

“Of course,” The hostess said. “Right this way.”

She led him to one of the rooms, in which there was a flowery perfume smell. Steam emanated from under the door.

“They are undressing in the side room,” The hostess said. “You are free to wait for them.”

“Thank you, miss,” He replied. She nodded and excused herself.

DuMont stepped in and lowered his massive body into a squat-sit position, waiting patiently. The door opened after a moment, and to his dismay, a very naked Sanoh walked through. DuMont slapped his hands over his eyes.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaimed. “The hostess must have brought me to the wrong room! I meant to go to the mens’ bath!”

Sanoh laughed. “It’s okay, big guy!” He heard the sound of her slipping into the water. “Feeling a bit lonely? Did you want to bath with the guys?”

“No,” He replied, still covering his eyes. “Well, yes, but no. I wanted to ask their advice about something.”

“Oh?” She said, her voice piqued with interest. “Maybe I can help. What’s the problem?”

“Oh…” DuMont hesitated. “Well… It’s private.”

“It’s about Kharis?” Sanoh hazarded.

“Yes,” He responded.

“Is it about sex?” Sanoh said shrewdly.

“Yes,” He said, almost dropping his hands in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Because Kharis and I talk, sweetie,” She replied. “Look, you can lower your hands. I’m not all that shy, honey; ask Rupert. Besides, if you want to know what a woman wants during sex, you shouldn’t ask a man. Why don’t you get in and sit with me and we can talk. Kharis is getting a drink, so she’ll be a few minutes.”

DuMont slowly lowered his hands and was relieved to see that Sanoh had sunk beneath the bath, which seemed to have a cloudy, pleasant smelling mixture in it that obscured most of her body. He carefully stood up and climbed into the bath, raising the level of the water by at least a foot. He took great care not to crowd her, looking much like an oversized dog crouching in a box too small for him.

“Alright, so what’s the issue?” She asked.

“Kharis wants me to be more aggressive,” DuMont said, hanging his head. “But I’m worried that I might hurt her.”

“I see,” Sanoh said, leaning forward a little. “I mean, I like a little bit of pain during sex, but I imagine it would be difficult for you, considering your size and strength.”

“That’s what worries me,” He replied anxiously.

“Well, there are plenty of ways of being assertive without hurting anyone,” Sanoh replied. “What about just ripping her clothes off the next time you feel frisky? Ooh, with your teeth! That would be hot.”

“But wouldn’t I make her mad if I ruin her clothes?” DuMont asked, cocking his head.

Sanoh shook her head. “Trust me, do it right, and she’ll be putty in your hands. Besides, we’re flush with cash right now. Kharis can buy new clothes. Kharis is also a little bit of an exhibitionist, so she’d probably like some public sex.”

DuMont balked at this idea. “That’s indecent! And also illegal, as far as I know!”

“I don’t mean do it out in the open! Although, knowing Kharis, she would probably love that,” Sanoh muttered thoughtfully. “No, no, somewhere public adjacent, like a rooftop or just beyond a tree line, somewhere you have the potential to be caught.”

DuMont frowned uncertainly. “Alright. What else could I do?”

“You could snarl at her when the two of you are getting in the mood. Some women really love that primal, feral energy. Love bites could be good, too. I do love it when Rupert puts his teeth to my scales.”

“But…” DuMont ran a finger over his exposed fangs. “I don’t know if I could do that. What if I actually bit her?”

“Drawing a little bit of blood might be alright, just don’t go very deep.”

DuMont grimaced uncertainly, but didn’t say anything.

“Honestly, honey, I think you’re really overthinking things. You’re just a big sweetie pie! I don’t think you could hurt Kharis, even if you tried to.”

“That’s patently incorrect,” DuMont protested.

“Just try it, big guy,” Sanoh insisted. “It’s called experimenting for a reason. If it doesn’t work out, then you don’t have to do it again.”

“I suppose,” DuMont replied slowly.

“Either way, Kharis should be here soon, and you should go take your bath. First rule of being a freelance mercenary: never let something you paid money for go to waste.”

With some difficulty, he climbed out of Sanoh’s bath and headed back for the public bath. It was fairly large; he was able to stretch out, still clothed, and soak his whole body with relative ease. He swam around the bath a little, using the soap Kharis had bought for him to wash his body and clothes.

In the warm water, he mulled over the suggestions Sanoh had given him. Feral, huh? Like… maybe hunting? The only time he really let loose is when he was hunting, though his intent was usually to kill. Perhaps he could modify it and turn it into a game? Would Kharis like that? He could try it.

After only ten minutes, he rinsed himself and got out of the bath, sloshing water all over the floor and walked dripping back out into the foyer, the hostess glaring at him as he exited the bathhouse. Should he try now? It certainly would be unexpected. He wanted to be more spontaneous, like Kharis suggested, and take her by surprise. She might like that.

Hide. He needed to hide. There was a grove of trees near the bathhouse, an orchard likely belonging to the inn. The trees weren’t especially dense, but the sun was setting and it would be easy enough to hide in the dark.

It was over an hour before Kharis came out of the bathhouse. She was alone, thankfully, and looking around with concern, likely for him. It was understandable; DuMont usually stuck close to Kharis in unfamiliar places.

“DuMont?” She called. “Where’d you go?”

DuMont purposefully snapped a twig, catching Kharis’s attention. She spun around and looked into the orchard, squinting, and moved away from the lantern light.

“Is that you?” She asked as she walked forward.

DuMont let a low, quiet, guttural snarl issue from his throat, shifting his weight carefully. Kharis’s brow furrowed and she laid a hand on the hilt of her short sword. DuMont moved forward slowly, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. He had to admit, this was kind of fun.

“Show yourself!” She said. “I’m armed!”

DuMont snarled again, a little louder this time. Kharis started backing away, beginning to draw her weapon.

Now.

DuMont rushed out of the shadows of the orchard, snatching Kharis by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder, making her squeak in surprise, and began to scale the tall bathhouse building, digging his claws into the stone.

“DuMont!” She shrieked, smacking his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

DuMont didn’t answer, just continued to climb the wall up toward the roof. As he pulled himself up, he dropped her unceremoniously, pulling rope from his waist pack. Kharis watched in confusion as he tied her hands up, behind, and down to her legs.

“DuMont, what are you doing?” She asked, a slight smile on her face.

“Taking your advice,” He replied, a deep growl to his words.

Her eyebrows raised, intrigued. “Well, I’m glad, but how are you going to get my clothes off if I’m tied up like this?”

He took hold of her tunic with his hands and ripped it open down the front, exposing her breasts to the air. Her skin smelled of the rose and cardamom soap she had used.

“Oh,” Kharis said. “Well, then.”

He put her on the ground and sniffed down her body, growling low like an animal stalking prey. She bit her lip and squirmed a little. DuMont pressed his nose in between her legs and took a deep breath before taking the fabric in his teeth and ripping it, tearing a ragged hole

“Oh, fuck,” He rasped. “That’s so fucking hot.”

His tongue came out and licked a large swipe up and down, and she strained against the ropes, squealing. She was swollen and pulsing against his tongue, and he could tell she was enjoying herself.

With one hand, he picked her up and carried her to the ledge, where there was a large decorative gargoyle looking down over the courtyard. He placed her face down on top of it, so that she could see the courtyard. The way the light was directed by the lanterns, she could see down, but people couldn’t see her. Probably.

Holding her down with his hand, he plunged his tongue inside her and contracted it over and over, in and out, up and down. She moaned loudly, and DuMont answered with a snarl. The entire lower half of her body was inside his jaws, and while he knew he wouldn’t hurt her, he had to admit that the hint of danger was thrilling.

Her hips moved in time with his strokes until she lay her face down against the stone and just whimpered in pleasure. Before she could recover, he withdrew his jaws and lined himself up with her entrance, thrusting in hard.

She howled, making as much noise as she could, reveling in the feeling of him inside of her and the idea of being overheard by anyone down below. She’d always loved the idea of being almost caught.

She began to quiet down to a faint whimpering, and the interior of her body flexed and contracted as she climaxed around his cock. He slowed to let her draw out the orgasm, and then sped up again, thrusting so hard that her body rocked to and fro on the back of the gargoyle. He pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and pulled her up against him, holding her in the air and pumping into her, moving her on him, using her body as she told him to. He granted her, it did feel amazing.

Her head was thrust back and she grunted with her teeth clenched, her eyes closed. Her face was flushed, a vein bulging in her neck, and she was sweating all down her body.

“Are you--” He began, but she opened her eyes and snarled, “Don’t you fucking dare ask if I’m okay,” and he shut his mouth.

He thrust and thrust vigorously, with more force than he normally used, until her body went completely stiff and she was gasping for air, then went limp in his arms. He slowed his movement to a crawl, giving her a moment to recover, before driving himself back in again, full-speed, not giving her a chance to regain speech. She strained against her restraints, not as though she wanted to be free of them, but in a manner that suggested she was trying to contract and stretch with pleasure, the muscles in her stomach and legs rigid and hard. Her face was red with exertion and sweat poured off her body.

“Cum,” She grunted at him. “Cum for me. Do it.”

He snapped his hips against hers faster still, the rise of ecstasy building in him quickly, and he roared as he released inside her. He had to be careful not to drop her as he felt himself pop finally, gushing and shooting into her. As such, he did manage to lay her down before collapsing. As exhausted as he was, he used his claws to snap the ropes free and let her body completely relax under him.

“Is that what you wanted?” He asked breathlessly.

“Shush,” She replied faintly. “Let me bask in the afterfuck.”

They lay there together on the cool bricks of the roof, the evening air blowing lazily over their flushed, overheated skin.

Eventually, Kharis pushed on DuMont’s shoulder and he rolled off and lay next to her. She sighed contentedly.

“Yes, to answer your question,” She said. “That was undoubtedly the best lay I have ever had in my life. I didn’t think you had that in you, but I’m pleasantly surprised.”

“I wasn’t too rough?” He asked.

“No, not at all,” She said. “It was perfect. Just what I needed.” She rolled on her side and looked up at him. “You weren’t uncomfortable with doing it, were you?”

“No,” He replied. “I was uncertain I was doing what you wanted and worried I was hurting you. Did I?”

She shook her head. “I think if you had gone any harder than you did, you might’ve, but it was great.”

“Good,” He said, satisfied. “The hunting and stalking part was really fun, I enjoyed that very much.”

She laughed. “You startled me, certainly, but it was fun. Next time we’re camping in the woods, we should have ourselves a nice game of hide and seek.”

“I would like that,” He said.

“Well,” She said, hopping to her feet. “I’m starting to get cold, and my clothes are…” She looked over at the shreds of her tunic and trousers. “Well, unwearable. Can you give me a lift down to the ground?”

“But you’re naked.”

She shrugged. “I’ve got spares in my bag downstairs.”

“But you’re naked.”

She snorted. “It’s not the first time I’ve walked nude through an inn before and it likely won’t be the last. Just get me down.”

He obliged, lifting her onto his back and scaling back down the wall. Kharis drew a lot of stares as she made her way through the common area of the inn. Like normal, DuMont was too large to get into the inn, but he watched Kharis from the door to make sure she didn’t run into trouble.

Norman, Sanoh, and Rupert were sitting and drinking, staring at Kharis as she strode through the room, though Sanoh caught sight of DuMont at the door and smirked, winking at him.

If he ever needed advice in the future, he definitely knew who to ask.

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Tiefling #Elf #Kobold #D&D #Dungeons and Dragons #D&D Fanfic

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hellroots · 3 years

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『 MOBILE FRIENDLY RULES 』

— here you will find my rules or can also find them on my gdocs as well once i’m done with it. please like this if you read it, but otherwise don’t interact with this post, thank you. rest assured that i always read my moots rules before following and that i fully expect the same courtesy. i tried not to let them get too long but feel free to ask me anything you wanna know about them if it’s not clear ok?

『 THE MUN』

NOXTROMUN, THEY/THEM, 21+, BRAZILIAN

shy but friendly ! i don't follow for follow, if i follow you that means i've read your rules and want to write with you. i have no triggers nor squicks of my own except drama in the dash, for that reason i do not engage in callouts/witch hunts and if you do it on a constant basis i might have to hard block you for my own peace of mind. although i may come off too strong/harsh, i am always up to talking things out privately. as long as you are civil, so am i. any form of hate will be deleted and blocked - sometimes mocked, if i’m feeling cocky…

『 THE BLOG』

HELLROOTS, INDIE ( POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT MINOR FRIENDLY ), HIGHLY SELECTIVE & PRIVATE MULTIFANDOM MULTIMUSE

primarily run on a low activity \ effort and with a slow speed.. my muselist changes a lot, depends a lot on what i’m watching lately so bear with me please. this is a drama free zone, therefore do realise that mun ≠ muses and (obviously) writing ≠ condoning !! as a quick note, do keep in mind that my blog is my safe space, just as your blog is yours - you are responsible for your own internet experience just as i am responsible for mine. should anything in my blog annoy/trigger/squick you, i strongly encourage you to block me & not write with me - your mental health is far more important ( for me, and hopefully for you as well ) than rp. on that note, please do not softblock me - that’s annoying, just hardblock please.

『 THE TRIGGERS』

TRIGGER HEAVY, PROPERLY TAGGED AND TAKING NO CRAP

i usually tend to write for trigger heavy fandoms (such as asoiaf, kingdom and others) and may incorporate some of it into my writing, muses' backgrounds and overall characterization. if you're bothered \ squicked \ triggered by that, i kindly encourage you to reconsider and not follow me. no amount of rp fun is worth your mental health. i try to tag everything accordingly and i fully expect the same courtesy for our followers' sakes. be aware that there may be mentions of death, gore, violence, consanguinamory \ endogamy (especially when it comes to the lannisters and kekkei genkai clans), rape ( kingdom, though it will only be mentioned on the character’s backstory ) and cannibalism ( hannibal and kingdom ) , as well as unhealthy relationships and dynamics alongside with powerplay, and otherwise bad behaviours. for all that is sacred, please, do note that i, the mun, do not approve, support or condone any of these actions or behaviours !! i simply am capable of separating fiction from reality. as long as everything is properly tagged, with mutual consent and there are no minors involved (muse and especially not muns), . i support the right of a consenting adult to explore these awful dark topics in a safe fictional environment with other like minded consenting adults, people shouldn’t have to share their traumas to strangers on the internet to explain why they write what they write, be considerate. if that notion bothers you perhaps you might not want to interact with me, for both of ours sakes. fair warning, most of my graphics and aesthetics might trigger those who have xylophobia/hylophobia (phobia of trees or wooded areas), and considering it is a main theme here i will not be tagging it, i'm sorry. but its too many. however, if you want me to create a special tag for you, there's no issue! it will be either "[your mun name] don't look!" or "[your url] don't look!", whichever you prefer. QUICK EDIT/ADDITION: i do not believe that aging up fictional characters is inherently a bad thing - from what i understand, the whole appeal of aging up a character is that while you like their personality but you do not want them to be kids (for whatever reason) but insteasd adults. if you are one of those who think that aging up a character is automatically something bad (without even knowing why it was done in the first place) don’t bother following me because i do think that opinion is quite silly.

『 THE INTERACTIONS』

OC, DUPLICATE, MULTIMUSE AND CANON DIVERGENT FRIENDLY

my tagging system is simple, i tag triggers as "tw; x" and . images that may be sensitive or triggering as "cw; x". you can further see how my tags work by taking a look at my tag dump post, just search ‘tag dump’ on my blog and you will find the most recent one i’m using. i shitpost and talk oocly on the dash constantly but you can easily blacklist my tag if it bothers you. here's something you should know about me: when i'm doing drafts i usually don't feel like chatting much, so please do not spam me because i won't be able to reply, i love to talk with my moots but sometimes it overwhelms me. on that note, please don't pester me for replies ic or ooc, i am slow and chances are that if you try to guilt trip me or just nag me about it i'll leave as the ones i'll get to in the later end on purpose, just out of spite. yes, i be like that. please be patient - i’ll never pressure you and expect the same in return. plotting wise: i prefer to just wing it with just a faint idea of where to take the thread but honestly i'm cool with anything. please be considerate when formatting your replies, i have a bad eyesight & if i can't read it, i won't bother with it. my own formatting is simple and clean. on a smaller note, please bear with me and my muses as my muses ramble a lot but you don't have to match the length, just give me something to work with. if we write together, the chances of me making edits/tagging you in stuff are really big, just lmk if you don’t like that though !

『 THE FLEET』

MOSTLY BI/PAN MUSES, MULTISHIP AND MULTIVERSE, SMUT FRIENDLY

i love shipping but i like my ships to be devices to move the plot/dynamics/muses forward, every once in a while though i partake in some much loved self indulgent shipping. just because i ship a certain pairing don't presume that my characters are approaching yours with second intentions, please. most of the time i like to reblog those relationship memes, so if you’re interested in a ship the best way (other than sending me a message ofc) to let me know is by sending ones. there will be some triggering ships here ( like the lannisters, both cersei x jaime and joanna x tywin are my otps, and potential inter clan ships, like with the hyugas - i mean how the hell you think they keep the byakugan in their family?? ) that may either be played with trusted friends or be mentioned/reblogged sometimes, all properly tagged so you can easily blocklist/avoid it. most of my muses are either bi or pan, those who are not will be specified. don't be afraid to reach out to me for shipping right off the bat - i'd rather have you to be open and honest with me about the interactions you want than lying to me, just know that there will be needed some plotting and threading first to see if your muses match. as an adult, my blog is smut friendly, i partake in sexual sunday a lot because some of my muses are very lewd in nature, you can blacklist my tag if that bothers you as well.

『 THE FINAL NOTES』

GENERAL RP ETIQUETTE APPLIES, CREDITS, THANK YOU FOR READING MY RULES

lastly but not least, general rp etiquette applies on my blog: no godmodding, forced ships, etc. there’s only ONE thing that truly makes me go apeshit crazy, and it’s when people don’t read my rules. i ALWAYS find out and it’s not pretty; i block it like it’s hot, ♪ ♫ ♬ block it like it’s hot ♪ ♫ ♬. i strongly assure you that i always read your rules before both following you and also before sending memes, just in case. on a much smaller note, i’m not so hot on single shipping and i really feel weirded out about people forcing me to pic who i’m going to interact with due to theirs DNI’s. while i get DNI’s when it comes to actual predators, when it’s something seemingly random chances are that i’ll softblock you because it weirds me out how volatile some can be when it comes to a hobby. i have some trigger heavy hcs ( for example, the one about jiraiya’s hypersexuality being rooted in trauma that he suffered at a young age ) that i share with only a few muns that are closer with me, so i’ll be mentioning them every once in a while but won’t share them, please don’t insist. i don’t really like most of the main characters of the franchises i write for, and when it comes to certain characters i reserve the right to decline an rp for my own comfort. for further info on what i use to make my graphics please check my “CREDITS.” tag. most of my stuff is made by me, i’ve got a lowkey rph in case you wanna check it out it’s @brazucahelps, however if you want a custom content i can see if i get a free time to come up with something :D

IF YOU READ THIS FAR, THANK YOU SO MUCH — JUST ONE LAST THING, COULD YOU PLS LIKE THIS SO I KNOW YOU’VE READ IT? <3 THANKS!

#RULES.

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dictacontrion · 5 years

Text

About the Draco/Harry Nazi AUs

In response to several asks and messages about this round and the last.

First, I want to summarize and center the takeaways that come at the end of this post:

Complicity with, silence around, or diffuse support for bigotry matters. It is not neutral.

This is not - it is never - about one or two people, but about how communities signal that they will or won’t tolerate bigotry.

But do beware of people who are more interested in trying to garner sympathy than in taking responsibility

This recurrence may be in part because popular members of this community have defended and protected people who were involved in propagating romanticized misinformation about Nazism in the past. Certainly, this community has not taken a zero-tolerance policy towards this content.

This type of event is not isolated to two events or to antisemitism - see e.g. RaceFail

If we want to make fandom a space that does not support bigotry, we must stand against it loudly and unequivocally

We must do this even - especially - when it involves holding our friends and community members accountable, and even if it is uncomfortable.

If we are not willing to speak up and take action in defense of our principles, those principles mean nothing.

That said:

I’m not going to name names in this post – not because I don’t think there are good reasons for people to want to know who was involved, but because the naming of names was used to derail the conversation last time. All of these people are still active in fandom and on tumblr, and if you want to know who the main players are, I’ll tell you in a private message.

Last January, an artist posted a picture that depicted Draco as a Nazi and Harry as a Nazi prisoner. The caption (with tags that will become relevant in a minute) read:

I - as a Jewish person, as a queer person, and as a member of this fannish community – found this disturbing for a number of reasons. The idea of a Nazi AU squicks me hard enough on its own. This piece also used anti-semitic language, suggested that a “Jew servant” would fall in love with a Nazi soldier and that it could be the case that “war brought them together” when the war was predicated on the genocide of Jewish people, Roma people, disabled people, and queer people. That last bit is important too; the piece ignored/erased the Third Reich’s internment and killing of queer people, and suggested that same-sex love could flourish in the Nazi regime. All of this adds up to misinformation that is – always, but especially in the current global political climate – dangerous.

A well-known author and blogger in the H/D fandom reblogged this piece, including the caption, with supportive tags, as pictured above. They were the first, and at that point only, person to reblog the piece, and without that reblog it's unlikely that it would have gained attention or been seen by many people. Several people pointed this out to them. They responded to private messages from me and several others and, iirc, to anons, saying that they hadn’t been aware, that they hadn’t seen the caption, that they hadn’t done anything wrong, that “the art by itself is lovely and it was for that very plain and simple reason that I reblogged it,” and that they shouldn’t have to and were not going to apologize or remove the art from their blog.

It would have been very, very easy at this point for the reblogger to apologize and remove the piece. They chose not to.

I contacted the artist and the reblogger privately before making any public statements. The artist defended their work unequivocally. The person who reblogged it continued to defend their reblog of and support for the work across several back-and-forths.

While this was going on, I made a very general post about it: "so some of y’all are starting 2018 by adding antisemitismn and ignorance of historical homophobia to the giant flaming pile of homophobic stereotypes in the tumblr drarry fandom, huh? not a good look, folks. "

A third person – also a well-known author and blogger – entered the fray at that point. They replied to that post, saying that I was "having fun vaguely calling people out" and "mak[ing] people paranoid."

In response to that comment and other ongoing conversation happening in the moment, I then reblogged and added on to my post. I named both the artist and the reblogger and said that that their actions, in creating the art and in giving it a large platform, were “moving into a territory of softening and downplaying the significance of horrific actions taken against, and ideologies that still endanger, queer and Jewish people. I don’t know about y’all, but I have less than zero tolerance for that.”

I stand by that statement.

Following that addition, along with several other bloggers’ posts about it and continued criticism from a number of people, the reblogger took down the art and apologized.

I had never engaged with either the artist or the reblogger before this encounter. I have not engaged with them since. I would have been content to leave it there.

However, the third person reblogged and commented on my expanded post. In that reblog, they defended the reblogger's actions, said that I was being unfair to the reblogger, that the reblogger was very upset at being attacked like this, that I wasn’t really concerned about the post but was using it as an excuse to attack the reblogger (who, again, I had not named prior to the third person's accusation that my vagueness was making people paranoid, and who I had never previously interacted with), and said that I should leave fandom.

The third person is someone I had engaged with beforehand, though have not engaged with since. I had not contacted them about this set of events; they initiated this exchange.

I will also note that they had left provocative comments on my posts prior to this, including telling me that I should leave fandom. I have heard through multiple grapevines that this, generally and in the specific instance of the debate around the Nazi AU, was intentional – that, because I wasn’t excited about their work (though also did not criticize it) and because I was critical of fannish trends their friends supported, they were trying to get me to do something that would give them reason to call me out, to make me look bad, to paint me as a bad actor. This is consistent with other interactions I had had with them – with they way they spoke to me about other people, and the way they had behaved towards me previously.

What that means, in this case, is that this person exploited the fact that I – as a queer person, as a Jewish person – was upset by and angry about antisemitic and homophobic art, to get a reaction that they could use towards their fannish political ends.

This person used the vulnerabilities that are an unavoidable part of my life in the real world to provoke me so that they could malign me in fannish space.

This third person has since made a public statement, as well as a private one to me (which I have not responded to), about their actions. These statements have had several things in common. They have consistently painted themselves as in need of and deserving of sympathy. They have never named or apologized for the harm they caused. They never take responsibility - there is no “I’m sorry for defending the spread of misinformation about Nazism” or “I acknowledge that my actions may have signaled to white supremacists that they can spread their ideas in this space” or “I apologize for supporting an action that harmed people within my community” or “I was wrong to stand up in defense of the spread of the romanticization of the Third Reich." They have never, to my knowledge, come out and said that their defense of someone who gave antisemitic and homophobic art a platform was wrong. They have, however, talked about why this has been hard for them, about how difficult it is to hear other people tell them that they are wrong, about how it’s made them cry and how they feel so bad about it all.

It’s made me cry, too. It’s made me feel more uncomfortable and unwelcome and unsafe in fannish space than anything else ever has. It was and continues to be a reminder that the people who I am in community with may very well hate the things I am, and may have no reservations about using that against me. It’s made me withdraw from fannish spaces.

As all of this was happening, a number of other creators and bloggers seemed to get on side with the reblogger and the third person. A number of authors who I had known for some time and had respected and counted as friends or friendly acquaintances unfollowed me after this third person’s very vocal insistence that I was a bully (which, I'm told, extended beyond those public posts). Several people have told me that, following this, reccing my fic or referring to my posts became unofficially verboten in the Drarry Discord and other semi-public fannish spaces. The reblogger and the third person have a lot of sway in this community. They used it - used my reaction to antisemitic, homophobic work that glamorized Nazis - to provoke a reaction and use it isolate me from a space that had been a respite, to create an environment that felt so hostile and uncomfortable that, for a long time, I couldn’t stand to be here.

This whole string of events - the creation and promotion of bigoted works, the defense of that creation and promotion, the unwillingness to learn or hear criticism or take responsibility, the framing of people who are asked to reckon with their actions as victims, the framing of people who insist on naming and resisting bigotry as bullies or problems, the isolation and vilification of people who speak up - is not unique to me, or to this case. It happens over and over and over again, in spaces online and off. It will keep happening unless we stand in its way.

I still do not regret my refusal to tolerate antisemitism and homophobia in this community. I would do the same again. I only hope I would - I perpetually aspire to - do it with just as much conviction and just as much willingness to take risk for those of you who are marginalized in other ways, and who also look to this community as something of a respite from that.

At the time, I was too upset to say any of this. I was panicked. I was hurt. I just needed to get out. But I’ve since wished that I had said more, so I am now, particularly as I see some dynamics of it playing out again.

Again, if there are takeaways worth taking away, it’s these:

Complicity matters. Silence matters. Support for people who give a platform to bigotry matters, even if you call it by another name. It is not neutral. I know that no one has the energy to respond to every thing at every time - but if you use the energy you do have to defend and excuse it, you are worse than complicit.

This is not – it is never - about one or two people. There were quite a few people who supported and excused the artist’s work, the reblogger’s decision to give it a platform and initial refusal to apologize, and the third person’s defense of the reblogger.

But do beware of people who refuse to apologize, who paint themselves as victims instead of taking responsibility for what they’ve done.

If this is recurring, it may well be in part because popular members of this community defended and protected people who were involved in propagating romanticized misinformation about Nazism. It may well be because people have signaled that those who want to tell stories and spread ideas that glamorize Nazism will not only get away with it, but will be defended and protected.

This is not an isolated event. This pattern of behavior has recurred again and again in fandom. Especially if you are not already familiar with it, please see the fanlore entry on RaceFail.

If we want to keep fandom from being a space that does not support Nazism, white supremacy, racism, homophobia, antisemitism, ableism, and all other forms of bigotry, we must do what I still do not regret doing: we must stand against it loudly and unequivocally.

We must do this even – especially – when it involves holding our friends and members of our community accountable. We must do this even when it is uncomfortable.

If we are not willing to speak up and take action, if we are not willing to risk our comfort, risk our status, risk our ease in order to defend freedom and equality, than we are not defenders freedom and equality. If we are not willing to speak up and take action in defense of our principles, our principles mean nothing.

#antisemitism #nazism #white supremacy #bigotry #drarry #fandom is not immune from prejudice #which is all the more reason to be aware of it and to reject it

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fialleril · 7 years

Text

Replies to ‘Flowers for the Emperor’

So I’m hideously behind on my replies. (Seriously. So far behind that the folks I’m replying to probably don’t even remember what they said, lol.) But dang it, I’m getting them done! Eventually.

I’m gonna do a post for each fic I owe people replies to, so I don’t spam people.

Here’s the replies for the last DAV fic, Flowers for the Emperor.

@w3-4r3-th3-f1r3 said

AAAAAAAAAAAAAH OH MY GOD GUYS GUYS THE FLOWERS OH MY GOD

OHHHH MY GOD I LOVE THE IDEA OF THE WHOLE FLOWER LANGUAGE BEING WRAPPED UP IN FOLK HISTORY SO MUCH

AND THAT POOJA COULD RECOGNIZE AND UNDERSTAND IT BECAUSE SHZ KNEW THE STORIES THATS SOMETHING THAT MAKZS MY RESEARCH-HAPPY HEART FUCKING SOAR I SWEAR TO GODDDDD

and Leia’s line, “and we’ll have flowers”.. I PUNCHED THE AIR SO HARD I HURT MY ELBOW BUT YOU KNOW WHAT I HEAR HER SAY THAT CLZAR AS DAY IN MY HEAR. AND IT WAS GLORIOUS

Thank you! :) Apparently the moral of this story (and arguably the entire DAV universe) is that it pays to be a nerd. The revolution is fought (and won) with folk tales and poetry and flowers.

@threadsketchier said

#I HAVE NEVER HIT REBLOG SO HARD IN MY LIFE #i'm so thirsty for naberrie family fics #& my thirst is slaked #night: made #crack!fic goals #majestic #*flaming elmo gif* #it's ok that we're still not at bespin #because we get more quality content like this #the family that slays together #say it with flowers #that may be my new tag for this lol #lastly #YAAAASSSSSSSSSS

Ha ha thanks. :) This fic basically turned into a vehicle for all my Naberrie headcanons, with a side of double agent Vader shenanigans, so I’m glad you enjoyed that.

Also “say it with flowers” sounds like a catchy advertising slogan and now I’m picturing Darth Vader doing TV ads, so thanks for that.

@miriannemiri said

fabulous! absolutely fabulous! the way he told her to get out was fabulous and just all the inside jokes possible with this and the way he almost tested her the first time! Also as someone who used flower language in literary analysis while getting my master's this just tickles me fabulous addition

Oh my goodness, I’m delighted to get a seal of approval from somebody who actually knows flower language!

I imagine the scene just after the end of the fic is Pooja telling Ryoo all about the different bouquets, and Ryoo cracking up laughing at each one.

@themoosejthm said

#A NEW FIC #AND IT'S SO FUCKING GOOD #READ THE THING #ALSO THAT FAM REUNION IS GOING TO BE AWKWARD AS FUCK #we also see more of Anakin being an awkward duck and just...swanning away from conversations midway through them #the language of flowers on naboo is also a thing of beauty #also it was really beautiful how present Padme was in this piece even though she's been dead for years #just...FIA AT IT AGAIN WITH THE GOOD FIC

Yessss, I’m so glad people are commenting on awkward turtleduck Anakin. He’s so awkward, but he gets away with it because people are so terrified that they think he’s being intimidating, when in fact he just...doesn’t know how to end a conversation.

Padme keeps popping up in dreams and memories because the idea of writing a story without her in it at all is just too terrible to contemplate.

@stereden said

#when someone who married into your culture knows your flower language better than you Palpatine it may be time to admit that you're an idiot #can I just say how much I adore the idea of Ekkreth basically telling Palpatine TO HISFACE that he's acting against him and will kill him #FOR PADME #and using Padme's culture to do so #imagine Anakin and Padme spending time together and Padme teaching him about Naboo and her traditions #and Anakin tells her stories of Tatooine #because for all that he hates the planet and what it represents #he learned a lot there #and in his darkest hours it's those lessons he remembers and uses to free himself #one story at a time #one bouquet at a time

Thank you for these lovely tags!

Palpatine is a Serious Galactic Political Force, the inane superstitions and provincial traditions of villagers and slaves do not concern him.

By the time Pooja sees her first bouquet, Anakin’s been sending them for several years already and got his delivery down to a science, but I think the first time he sent the flowers he actually thought that Palpatine would be able to read them, and he fully expected his Master to take his anger out on him, even if he didn’t suspect Vader as the sender. Anakin was just too depressed to care. But then to his surprise it turned out that Palpatine couldn’t read the secret language of his own people (which, to an Anakin who’s now thinking largely in Tatooine terms, is practically a moral judgment itself). And once he knew he could get away with it, he got really into it.

Both Pooja and Anakin think of the bouquets as Padme’s flowers, though for different reasons.

kiralamouse said

Y’all, if you aren’t reading Double Agent Vader, you’re missing out. It’s fractally beautiful, the little details mirroring the big picture mirroring the middle-ground means, that injustice must be shattered (and shall be, by the reassembled broken bits reforged into immutable objects). Also, secret admirer flowers being secret death threats. Details.

#best au #incidentally thanks fia for the fact that i can no longer not see your religious worldbuilding in canon #no seriously thanks #this fills the hole so perfectly that canon has yet to contradict

Thank you so much for this really beautiful image, wow. I’m flustered.

Also delighted that you like the Tatooine culture. :)

@thecookiemonster77 said

#!!!!!!!!!! #EEEEEEEEE DAV UPDATE!!!!! :DDDDDDD #IM YELL #I love ani what a nerd #*enters conversation* *doesn't know what to do* #*scuttles away* #same ani #same #but also!!!!!!! padmes family!!!!!! pooja!!!!!!!!!!!! #and flower fic!!!!!! #I'm so excited the hate bouquets became an official part of this installment omg #ani u nerd #I'm just. so in love w how they throw their disdain in palatines face #literally #like???? I just love their resistance and how they take whatever humor they can get #and!!!!!! using tales and flowers for rebellion!!!!!!!!!!! #dex as a part of the rebellion!!!!!!!!! #ITS WONDERFUL

:D I’m so glad people enjoyed awkward!Vader because honestly, he’s so much fun. A giant terrifying nerd. Someday in the future, once a lot of things have come out, Pooja is going to tease him so hard about this.

There’s an old saying that the thing that infuriates the Devil most is being laughed at. I feel like that’s true for Palpatine, as well. Of course, right now he doesn’t realize he’s being laughed at, but there’s a certain satisfaction in that, too. And it keeps people going. Laughter is important for a rebellion.

Also I am literally incapable of not name-dropping Dex at some point in my AUs, so the biggest surprise here is that he took so long to show up.

@fairandfatalasfair said

This was fantastic.

I love the parallel between Ryoo’s research and the traditional stories of Naboo, ignored because how could romantic poetry be relevant? and the insignificant folk stories that inspired Anakin’s change of alleigance.

I love the awkward conversation between Pooja and Anakin, and her complete unpreparedness for being questioned on the floral arrangements by the emperor’s right hand. (I’m not totally sure whether he’s reminding her not to give away the joke, or just checking whether she shared her aunt’s interest in flower language, or something else entirely, but regardless it’s a delightful exchange.)

I love the flower Pooja leaves behind - a last message for the emperor. It’s so in keeping with the rest of what we see of her in this, very different in tone from the gloating, personal hatred of Vader’s bouquets. That principled declaration of unflinching intent to see democracy victorious, hidden in something fragile and beautiful and insignificant, is exactly what she’s been doing here all along. And Palpatine will never know.

#Stories are important

#And everyone knows this except Palpatine

#I'm not even going to go into the dramatic irony because at this point that's just the defining reality of the AU

#But it's still simultaneously delightful and also killing me

#because Pooja's like inches from putting together who sent the flowers and misses it because it just seems too implausible

#okay maybe I'm going into it a little bit

#anyway beautiful story

Thank you for such an epic comment!

This entire AU is not so secretly centered around the power of stories to inspire and create resistance, so I’m glad people are enjoying that. :)

Also I imagine that to someone like Palpatine, things like flower language and folk tales and poetry are all considered childish and feminine, and therefore unimportant. So there’s a double sense of enjoyment in seeing those things lead to his downfall.

Anakin originally approached Pooja in that awkward exchange because he wanted to see if she really understood the meaning of the flowers - and if that meant he actually had an audience for them now. (Anakin’s a little bit of a showboat, tbh, and he hasn’t really been able to exercise that tendency in a long time. Sending messages to Palpatine that the Emperor can’t understand is satisfying, in its way, but it’s much more satisfying to known someone else does understand.)

Only once he’s confirmed that yes, she definitely can read the message, he has no idea how to end the conversation. So he just kind of...leaves. Like the awkward duck he is.

I’m glad you like Pooja’s flower at the end. :) And the important difference, ultimately, between her (and Leia) and Anakin. Anakin’s doing this in some sense for Padme - she loved the Republic so he’ll fight to bring it back - but ultimately, he still doesn’t really believe in the ideal of the Republic, and democracy is still a pretty meaningless concept to him. He’s out for a personal revenge, and he is actually invested in the Tatooine revolution, but the Rebellion as an organization is a lot more abstract to him.

Pooja, though, is really Padme’s ideological heir, even if she’s crafted her public image to be Padme’s opposite. She is fighting for democracy, for a core set of principles, for the ideal of the Republic she genuinely hopes to create.

@astudyinimagination said

#dammit uncle ani pls talk to your niece like a normal person#honestly when everything finally comes out this is going to be the most awkward family reunion in history#in other news#yes that is a washington post reference#i couldn’t resist#and of course the naboo have multiple flowers representing democracy#of course they do#the lyane rose is the flower padme’s parade dress in tpm is made to look like#also i’m continuing my one person campaign to write fema baab as a master spy#in all universes apparently#and finally it’s possible the bits with mon mothma at the end#conflict in minor ways with rogue one

Well, for starters, this is an AU so if anybody minds that it conflicts with Rogue One, that’s just… silly. (And I adored the movie and I ain’t bothered. ;) )

YES ANAKIN TALK TO YOUR NIECE AND DON’T BE SO RUDE. PADME IS PROBABLY FACEPALMING. HONESTLY, ANAKIN.

And what I probably should have started this sort-of review with is that I’m SO GLAD that one tumblr post snowballed into something that made you want to write something as glorious as this. Thank you so much for actually doing it!

AND POOJA IS SO AMAZING. I just… I love the potential of Padme’s nieces as characters. I bet they were amazing. <3 And I love the way you flesh out the Naberries. *gives them all some much-needed hugs*

Oh yes, and the way that this fic is predominantly female characters is lovely. That’s always a plus. :) (Mon Mothma was great. I loved her. And she’s totally enjoying the knowledge that Darth Vader sent an important message through flowers. :D )

I love Pooja’s assessment that Palpatine had never forgiven Padme for being a better person and not being as ambitious as he was. That’s great. :D

I love Leia and Pooja being friends (oh my gosh, they’re cousins and they don’t even know it and cousins who are good friends is a thing I love). And Leia being so gleeful about her bestie’s symbolic shenanigans is wonderful. (I just… it’s odd, maybe, but I just feel like Leia and Anakin are sort of besties—they have a lot that they share with each other that they can’t share with anyone else. They’re unknowingly biological father and daughter, basically adoptive father and daughter… and they’re besties. And that makes me so happy. :) )

“One day we’ll tell all the stories again. And we’ll have flowers.” —I LOVE THIS LINE.

I have to admit, I wouldn’t have thought that there could be a purge of Senators when the Senate is abolished, but it makes sense. And honestly, that part was truly scary in a way that I haven’t felt from any fics in a long time. Maybe because it was a little more real? Pooja’s amazing, but she’s not Force-sensitive and she doesn’t exactly have the Skywalker luck to get out of Situations. (Heck, maybe it even connected with some old recurring nightmares of mine subconsciously, now that I think about it.) That was genuinely scary. *shivers*

So thank goodness Anakin could give Pooja that message, and thank goodness Pooja and her handmaidens and her family got safely away! Here’s hoping she and Anakin saved a lot of lives!

Oh my goodness this comment is epic! :)

Anakin’s always had an awkward streak, but combined with the additional awkwardness of interacting with someone he hasn’t seen in years, who happens to think he’s dead and to be terrified of the person she thinks he is...and then on top of that the realization that, having determined she can indeed read the flower message, he has no idea where to take the conversation next.... Welp. Better to just nope on out of there.

(Also Darth Vader is frequently awkward in the movies and I feel like fandom doesn’t talk about that enough, so I’m on a quest to write awkward!Vader as often as possible.)

I’m glad you enjoyed all my Naberrie headcanons! I had lots of fun with them and I really need to write them more.

Mon Mothma was great. I loved her. And she’s totally enjoying the knowledge that Darth Vader sent an important message through flowers. :D

She so is. Honestly she’s probably hoping for The Reveal just so she can finally tell people this ridiculous but true story.

I love Pooja’s assessment that Palpatine had never forgiven Padme for being a better person and not being as ambitious as he was. That’s great. :D

Thanks! I suspect Pooja is right on the money, too, though of course she doesn’t know that Palpatine also has the joy of tormenting Anakin with his endless parties on the anniversary of Padme’s death. But I think he’d have done the same thing even without Anakin, because he really did hate Padme on her own account.

Pooja and Leia already having a pretty close friendship is going to make at least one part of The Reveal easier. And yeah, I think Leia and Anakin do see each other primarily as friends, with a father-daughter dynamic because it’s a friendship with that level of age gap. It’s not unlike the relationship between Shmi and Anakin, actually: a parent-child relationship that’s really a partnership, a relationship between equals. Leia calls Anakin her teacher, and he does consider her his student (though he’s never actually used that language), but the relationship doesn’t look anything like any teacher-student relationship in his experience. He’s not her master, and neither of them have ever called her his apprentice. He doesn’t give her orders. He doesn’t tell her not to ask questions. They’re friends.

My headcanon for this ‘verse is that the entire Senatorial contingent of the Rebellion got out before Palpatine dissolved the Senate, so this operation, at least, was a resounding success. :) And while Palps must think that someone tipped them off, it certainly couldn’t have been Vader, who was light years away chasing down Princess Leia above Tatooine, and who has always hated politicians anyway.

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caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 7 years

Text

Cultural Fusion

AO3 | FFdotnet

Bumi and Kya have decided to combine their cultural heritages in the kitchen, and Aang is horrified at the results.

Written for Aang Week 2017. Prompt - Free Day.

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Aang, Sokka, Tenzin, Kya II, Bumi II, Katara, Toph Beifong, Lin Beifong, Suyin Beifong, Suki Additional Tags: Air Temple Island, Post-Avatar: The Last Airbender, Pre-Avatar: Legend of Korra, Family, Family Dinners, Humor

So this is my final entry for Aang Week, and I had a lot of fun! Thank you so much to everyone who was kind enough to like or reblog or reply to or tag my fics!!! This was a blast. :D

If you’re interested in more of my writing, feel free to check out my AO3 or follow me on this tumblr - I’m pretty much dedicated to ATLA, and I’m a semi-active writer.

Sokka leaned over the saddle as Appa began his descent towards Air Temple Island. “So what kind of plant-based dish can I expect for dinner?” he asked Aang, who was seated on Appa’s head. “Noodles? Soup?”

“The Acolytes were talking about curry,” Aang answered.

Sokka’s eyes lit up. “Please tell me it’s Xing Ying’s turn in the kitchen. She’s the best at spices.”

“It’s her Fire Nation side,” Aang laughed. “And yeah, it is.”

Sokka grinned. “Fantastic! What’s for dessert?”

Aang’s smile faltered. “I have...no idea.” He looked worried as Appa approached the landing point.

Sokka looked from Aang to Tenzin, who sat beside him in the saddle.

“It’s a surprise,” Tenzin explained. “Bumi and Kya are making it.”

“Oh!” said Sokka. “Alright then. I’m sure it’ll be great, whatever it is. Aang why does your face look like that?”

“I’m not sure that I trust Bumi and Kya in the kitchen.”

“What? Why not?”

“They think that stewed sea prunes are the pinnacle of Southern Water Tribe cuisine,” Aang said as Appa made his landing, sending puffs of air and dust billowing through the courtyard. He slid off of Appa’s head and patted the bison’s cheek. “I wish I could believe they only do it to mess with me, but...no. They actually like sea prunes.”

Sokka snorted as he slid off of Appa, Tenzin gliding down behind him. “Aang, I know your hatred for sea prunes is legendary, but I swear it really is an acquired taste. Bumi and Kya seem to have acquired it.”

“I never acquired it!” Aang said, airbending the saddle off of Appa and setting it to the side.

“I like sea prunes,” Tenzin said.

Aang put his face in his hands. “All my children have betrayed me.”

Sokka laughed and slung an arm around Aang’s shoulders. “Come on, whatever Kya and Bumi have cooked up, I’m sure it’s not that bad. Right Kya?” he added.

Aang looked up to see his daughter had run into the courtyard, wearing a wide, mischievous grin. “Well, I think it’s good. Tenzin!” she said, grabbing her startled brother’s arm. “We need your help in the kitchen! Dessert’s almost ready but we need you to add the finishing touch!”

“Why do you need me?” Tenzin yelped as Kya dragged him off toward the kitchen.

“Because the secret is in the gooey center!”

“There, see?” Sokka said, watching the kids run off. “Clearly it’s just some sort of fruit pie. Nothing to worry about.”

“I guess,” Aang hedged, because the look on Kya’s face had reminded him far too much of the look Sokka got when a plan was going well. He gave Appa another pat before the bison shuffled off towards the stables, and then he and Sokka made their way to the family’s dining room.

Katara was already there, drinking tea made by Suki and reading a letter written on red-bordered stationery out loud for Toph’s benefit. “...won’t be able to leave the Fire Nation anytime soon, but you’re all invited to Ember Island this summer…”

“How was the Council?” Suki asked as Aang and Sokka took their seats, immediately pouring out two more cups of tea.

“Uneventful,” Sokka answered, slurping down the tea.

“Is that from Zuko?” Aang asked, sitting down beside Katara and dropping a quick kiss on her cheek.

“Mai, actually,” Katara said. “Zuko didn’t have time to write and she was bored.”

“Sounds accurate,” Aang laughed. “How are they?”

“Nothing new to report, really,” Toph shrugged. “Izumi’s doing well at the Academy, but she wants to study abroad. I say we bring her here. Between her, Lin, and Kya, we could get a nice pro-bending team going.”

“Tempting,” Sokka hummed.

“Might I remind you that we’re all notable leaders and public figures and shouldn’t go scam-gambling on sports?” Katara asked dryly.

“Scambling!” Sokka and Toph shouted, grinning.

“Dinner’s ready!” Bumi announced, entering the dining room with a massive bowl of curry. Lin and Tenzin came behind him with the side dishes, and then Kya and Suyin with a beautiful fruit pie that was set off on a side table. Aang eyed it warily, but nothing seemed amiss - the purple, gooey center was perfectly aerated and swirled just as Aang had taught Tenzin to do it, and it looked like a perfectly ordinary fruit pie.

Dinner was a happy affair. Sokka happily chowed down on the curry while Katara ran over the updates Mai had written them about. Bumi managed to tell exactly one outlandish-but-probably-perfectly-accurate story about a recent training trip in the United Forces before Kya snorted and splashed him with water from his own cup. Tenzin and Lin had a perfectly civil conversation when Lin wasn’t snapping at Suyin to stop showing off her metalbending by warping her dinner knife. Toph and Suki brought up the invitation Mai had extended to them to visit Ember Island.

“I think we should try to convince the Ember Island Players to put on another showing of The Boy in the Iceberg,” Toph said. “Zuko’s the Firelord, I’m sure he could make it happen.”

“Zuko’s the Firelord, I’m sure they’d be terrified to portray him in that play ever again,” Suki countered with a grin. “But maybe it could happen…”

“I really prefer that play when it’s forgotten,” Katara said dryly.

“Aw, but Sweetness, the kids have never seen it! Would you really deprive them of this important piece of family history?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, but speaking of family history,” Bumi said, standing up. “Who’s ready for dessert?” He brought the pie over to the table.

“Me me me me me!” Suyin shouted, bouncing up and down in her seat.

“Su, calm down,” Lin ordered, scowling.

“What did you kids make for us?” Toph asked, slinging an arm around her youngest. Suyin fell silent, but she kept bouncing.

“It’s a labor of love,” Bumi said, “and also experimentation. Kya and I had a lot of fun trying to get the flavor balance right.”

“Special thanks to Tenzin for aerating the gooey center!” Kya added, picking up a knife. She paused and frowned at the twisted metal. “I need a knife Su hasn’t been at.”

“Su!” Lin groaned as her little sister laughed.

“Gimme,” Toph ordered, holding out a hand. A quick twist and the knife was straight again. “Now quit making me wait and slice that pie up!”

“You got it, Chief,” Kya said, cutting the pie into even slices that Bumi distributed to everyone else.

Aang stared at his plate suspiciously before spooning a bit of the pie into his mouth. The pastry portion was okay, but the filling - oh, no. “This pie tastes like the ocean,” Aang said, horrified. “Please don’t tell me there’s sea prunes in this.”

“Okay,” Bumi grinned, “I won’t tell you there’s sea prunes in this.”

“Oh my spirits.”

“Not bad!” Sokka said. Katara looked like she was enjoying it, as well. So did Toph, who didn’t mind sea prunes, but Lin was staring at her plate in consternation. Suyin had gone the route of just eating the pastry while leaving the filling untouched.

“We thought we’d combine the two sides of our heritage into one delicious dessert,” Bumi said. “What do you think, Dad?” He was still grinning. So was Kya.

“You are horrible children,” Aang said, staring miserably at his pie. “Horrible. Why would you put sea prunes in a pie? Why?”

“To see the look on your face,” Kya snickered. “Your face, Dad! I wish I had a camera!”

“Me too,” Aang sighed. “I need to document this as the moment my children betrayed my trust. At least I still have Tenzin.”

“It’s actually pretty good,” Tenzin said, having another bite of sea prune pie.

Aang gave his youngest a disappointed look. “Abandoned and betrayed by all my children. I can’t believe this.”

“You’re being melodramatic,” Katara snorted, and she pointed at the pie on his plate. “Are you gonna eat that?”

“All yours,” Aang said, handing his plate over.

“This is actually pretty ingenious,” Sokka said, scraping sea prune goop off his plate.

“Eh,” said Suki, “I’m actually with Aang on this. Sea prunes are okay for dinner, but they shouldn’t be in a dessert.”

“Thank you Suki, you’re the best sister-in-law ever.”

“Well for all of you who can’t recognize culinary genius when you taste it, don’t worry, we have a kumquat fruit pie as well,” Bumi said.

Aang gave his son a dull look. “Are they ocean kumquats? They’d better not be ocean kumquats.”

Bumi just grinned back. “You’ll have to eat it to find out!”

#aang week #avatar fanfiction #atla fanfic #my creations

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thetravelerwrites · 4 years

Text

Ebert and Rings: A Meeting by Chance (Lemon)

Rating: Explicit Relationships: Male Human/Male Tiefling Additional Tags: Exophilia, Tabaxi, Tiefling Content Warnings: Sex, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Oral Sex Words: 4802

While Ebert and Rings are on a job to find incriminating evidence against their employer's rival, the cross paths with a man Ebert once attended school with. Jilted and angry, Ebert confronts him. Please reblog and leave feedback!

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“I hate this thing!” Rings hissed as Ebert took her hand and helped her down from the carriage. She was fussing with the bodice of the ball gown she was wearing. It was bright gold with blue embellishments to accentuate the colors of her fur, complete with matching jewelry. “Why can’t I wear something slutty?”

“Because this isn’t the time nor the place,” Ebert said, wearing a finely-tailored suit of moss green that complemented his hair and skin tone, with suitable finery and a beautiful cane for his limp. Ebert’s clothes and Rings’ dress were the down payment for their current job, which was infiltrating the manor of a local noble to find evidence that he was accepting illegal goods from their employer’s competing company. The party was an excellent opportunity to snoop around.

“This is the perfect time and place!” She argued as the two of them approached the entrance to the grand hall. “Who’s going to notice you poking around in this crotchity old fart’s study when these are on full display?” She cupped her bosoms and jiggled them.

“Stop it!” Ebert hissed. “We’re supposed to be blending in!”

“Well, forgive me if I’m not exactly the belle of the ball,” She sniffed. “I grew up poor and begging, so I’m not used to kissing the asses of the nobility.”

“Then just smile and keep your mouth shut!” Ebert said as he feigned a delighted smile while entering the main ballroom.

“Chauvinist,” Rings muttered, and Ebert growled through his teeth.

The ballroom was less grand and more gaudy; it was over-decorated with massive, gauzy ribbon streamers and silk flowers spilling out over every surface. The walls were covered in poorly-painted frescoes of busty women. Ebert didn’t know a person could be so rich and still have such awful taste.

“See?” Rings said, pointing at the walls. “Slutty would have been fine.”

“Rings, please,” Ebert said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

As he was looking around, taking in the… unique decor, a face at the head of the room caught his eye, and he went pale.

“Your face looks like you’re constipated, what’s wrong with you?” Rings asked.

“It’s him,” Ebert said in an intense undertone. “The little shit that dared me to go into the forbidden library! The one who said he’d repay me in sex!”

“Ooh, where?” Rings said, perking up. “I want to see the legend up close.”

“Near the ice swan. The one with the blackish hair and horns like a prong buck.”

Rings gawked, seeing a tall, slim figure in fine, dark blue sorcerer’s robes with silver embellishments far more tasteful than his surroundings. His eyes were like coins, bright copper with no pupils. His skin was a red-brown russet color, his complexion smooth and flawless. His double-pointed horns and split hooves were brown-black, as was his long, straight hair. He was still young-looking and beautiful in the face, much to Ebert’s dismay; he couldn’t deny that his old nemesis was still devastatingly attractive, dammit.

Well, Ebert wasn’t a schoolboy anymore, and he wanted to give this little shit a piece of his mind.

“What are you doing?” Rings asked insistently. “This isn’t what we came for!”

“We can take a minute for this,” Ebert said with determination. “This… boy is going to hear what I have to say.”

“Isn’t he older than you?” Rings snickered.

“Shut up, Rings,” Ebert retorted, dragging her behind him.

They walked swiftly up to the dais where the tiefling sorcerer was looking out over the crowd, his face cold and haughty, holding a glass of pale wine.

“Tilvanis,” Ebert said, Stopping in front of him and standing to attention like he was taught in school. “It’s… interesting to see you again.

Tilvanis looked him up and down, taking in his pale countenance and the cane he leaned on. “Am I supposed to know who you are?”

“I went to school with a lot of people, that tells me nothing,” Tilvanis said dismissively.

“Ebert,” He snarled. “My name is Ebert. I was expelled, remember? Well, I was arrested, more accurately, because of you.”

“Ahhh,” Tilvanis said. “The dead boy. Why exactly did you reanimate that poor girl again? Angry that I wouldn’t sleep with you, so you decided to make yourself a girlfriend?”

“You--!” Ebert felt himself about to implode, but Rings’ hand, specifically her claws, dug into his wrists. “You’re nothing but a pompous twat!” Ebert spat, though he still kept his voice down. The last thing he needed was to draw attention to himself and jeopardize the job over this smug rube. “You always were! I don’t know what it was I ever saw in you!”

“What’s not to see?” Tilvanis smirked. “I’m well-bred, rich, and handsome. You think you’re the only person I’ve toyed with? Please. I slept my way through most of the nobility in this region. My employer is an old lover, in fact. How else do you think I achieved my position so young? I was just as passionate about advancing my station as I was about learning magic. And look where it’s gotten me.”

“A servant to a man with the worst taste on the continent?” Rings asked.

Tilvanis narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps you should have followed my example,” He said, clearly still talking to Ebert but glaring at Rings. “You wouldn’t be cavorting around with…” His lip curled. “Lesser castes.”

Rings began to growl, the feral one from the back of her throat.

“What’s all this, what’s all this?” The noble of the manor asked, coming up on Tilvanis’s elbow. “Friends of yours, Tilvanis?”

“I wouldn’t call them that, no, my Lord,” Tilvanis said. “This is an old classmate of mine, and his…” He raised an eyebrow at Rings. “…guest.”

Rings sneered at him.

“Ah! So you’re both sorcerer’s then?” The noble asked.

“No, my Lord,” Tilvanis stated. “I’m afraid my…” Tilvanis certainly liked his meaningful pauses, didn’t he? “…friend here was expelled for gross incompetence.”

“That’s not…” Ebert began, but he stopped himself. Admitting what he was expelled for was a crime in and of itself, and Tilvanis knew it. His smirk said so. “…not accurate.” He finished. “I am, in fact, still a sorcerer. I left to pursue alternative scholarly opportunities. My education has been more hands-on and proactive than traditional academic avenues would have allowed.”

“Interesting,” The nobleman mused. “I wonder how traditional schooling would fare against self-discipline. Perhaps a demonstration would be in order.”

“Oh, my Lord, I don’t think--” Ebert began, but Tilvanis interrupted him.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my Lord,” Tilvanis said with a smug smirk.

“Excellent,” The nobleman said. He waved the band to silence and clapped his hands to draw the attention of the room. “Welcomed Guests!” He said, his voice echoing around the hall. “My personal sorcerer and his associate has agreed to a duel for our entertainment! Please clear the floor!”

People immediately began dividing into two sides, parting the sea of bodies until a large space was cleared.

Ebert took Rings by the arm and pulled her close, whispering in her ear.

“Use this distraction,” He said. “Find what we came for so we can get out of here.”

“Don’t get too turned on,” She said. “I know fighting gets you hot.” She then escaped into the crowd before he could respond. He could only glare after her.

Ebert and Tilvanis faced each other and bowed before stepping out onto the floor, as was tradition.

“This is reckless,” Ebert whispered as they bowed.

“If you’re as educated as you claim, you should be fine,” Tilvanis said as he rose.

“What about these people?” Ebert said as they both turned and stepped down from the dias and walked to the center of the room. “Don’t you care at all about them getting hurt?”

“Why would I?” He replied. “Do you? The Ebert I knew didn’t care about anyone, especially strangers.”

“Apparently, you didn’t know me all that well, it seems,” Ebert said.

“True,” Tilvanis said. “Nor did I care to.”

The two of them reached the center of the room, faced each other, bowed again, and walked five steps away from each other. During the few seconds he had, Ebert tried to remember Tilvanis’s dueling style. He tended toward flash rather than substance, erring to startle and scare rather than harm, though he wasn’t above a cheap shot if he thought he was genuinely threatened. His strong suit was making an impression.

Ebert had become more aggressive in his spell casting since travelling with Rings. Typically, when he casts a spell, someone was trying to kill him, so he usually cast with the same intent. He had to be mindful to play defensive out of fear of actually hurting someone.

As he turned, he instinctively cast Ward Wall from his cane, closely avoiding a fireball to the head. The line of ghostly, pearlescent people that made up the wall shielding Ebert drew a gasp from the crowd, and Ebert silently cursed himself. Being an outlaw on the run and working dangerous and sometimes illegal jobs, he was far less concerned about the type of magic he used, but in places like this, full of nobility and delegates, he had to be far more careful.

Tilvanis was smirking at the other end of the dueling space as he dispelled the ward wall easily and sent an ice spike toward Ebert’s head. “What’s the matter, my old friend?” He asked. “Did you forget basic etiquette? Where’s your fight? Where’s your spark? Where’s your love for the game?”

Ebert didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, punched out as fist, turning the spike to snow, and sent an acid serpent streaking through the air, which broke into three when Tilvanis tried to dispel it, causing one of them to catch him in the side. Tilvanis hissed and blasted an orb of radiant light around himself, dissolving the serpents.

Now he was angry, and Ebert could tell. Ebert remembered school with Tilvanis; any slight failure was enough to send him into a fit. Ebert used this to his advantage. He sent a wave of invisible heat blasting into Tilvanis’s eyes, blinding him, and then shot a blast of cold air right into his chest, knocking him backward.

As Tilvanis scrambled to get back to his feet, Ebert rushed him, catching him in a light lasso that completely immobilized him and pinned him to the ground.

“This isn’t a game for me, Tilvanis,” Ebert whispered to him, pulling him close by the scruff of his robe. “I don’t play to win. I play to survive. That makes me much more dangerous.”

A look of anger, fear, and another emotion that was harder to recognize chased themselves across Tilvanis’s face.

“I concede,” He said loudly. The crowd groaned disappointedly but clapped appreciatively for Ebert. Looking around, the nobleman who had insisted on the duel did not look happy.

As the nobleman made his way over to the two of them, Ebert held up a hand.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” Ebert said. “I fear I may have injured your personal sorcerer. I shall attend to him.”

The nobleman looked annoyed, but nodded shortly, turning on his heel and walking off in a huff.

“Let me go!” Tilvanis hissed.

“You’ll thank me for this later,” Ebert said, leading him by the lasso out of the room. “Is there a free room near here?”

“Take me to my room,” Tilvanis sighed in defeat. “Down this hall and to the right. Though, thanks to you, it may not be mine for much longer.”

“Wow, it really doesn’t take much to knock you off your high horse, now does it?” Ebert said as he walked.

“Are you going to gloat all night?” Tilvanis asked.

“I might,” Ebert said, opening the door to an opulent bedroom full of purple silk and dark wood furniture. “Considering what you said to me before I left school, and the cold reception I got from you this evening, I think I’ve earned a little bit of gloating.”

“I don’t even remember what I said to you back then,” Tilvanis admitted, sitting carefully on the edge of his bed, holding his side and wincing.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Ebert said, kneeling next to the bed.

“What are you doing?” Tilvanis said as Ebert began to prod his wound.

“Sit still, I’m a physician,” Ebert replied vaguely.

“Since when?”

“It’s been ten years, Tilvanis. Some of us haven’t been resting on our laurels or fucking our way to the top. Now hold still,” Ebert said through his teeth, jerking Tilvanis into a straight-sitting position. Tilvanis grunted but didn’t fight. “It’s mostly a flesh wound, but it needs treatment. Take off your robes.”

“What?” Tilvanis screeched.

“Oh, don’t be a pearl-clutching princess, just take off the robes,” Ebert returned.

“I don’t want to.”

Ebert grabbed him by the collar and shook him slightly. “Take. Off. The. Robes.”

Tilvanis gulped and acquiesced. As he did so, Ebert saw a black collar circling his neck with a large gold ring on the front. He was otherwise unclothed. Ebert said nothing and tried not to stare. He was still as… lithe well-built as he had been in school.

“Lie on your side,” You instructed him. “I’m going to draw the acid out, otherwise it won’t heal properly.”

“If you say so,” Tilvanis said offhandedly, though he was watching with a concerned expression.

Ebert swirled his finger over the wound as if stirring a drink, then pinched his fingers and pulled up, and a small stream of shifting green sifted up and out of the wound. With a casual flick of his hand, Ebert swatted it into the night-side table, melting a streak in the wood.

“Hey!” Tilvanis protested.

“Oh, don’t fuss,” Ebert tutted. “You live in a palace of impermanence. It’s just a piece of furniture.”

“It’s a piece of furniture that cost an exorbitant amount of gold!” Tilvanis retorted.

“Pfft,” Ebert replied. “Unless it’s actual gold, I don’t care for it. Now stop talking, I’m almost done.”

As combative and abrasive as Tilvanis was, he certainly seemed to enjoy following orders, for he shut his mouth immediately when Ebert told him to. Ebert sat on the bed next to the wizard and ran a finger over the wound, using his magic to weave the skin back together.

“I’ll be bruised,” He said. “But it shouldn’t reopen. Just try not to be an ass to another person better at magic than you while also less concerned with their personal safety.”

Tilvanis grunted in annoyance, but didn’t respond.

“Lay on your stomach,” Ebert said. “I’m going to put a salve on your back. You took a hard fall and it’ll bruise badly otherwise.”

“You’re pushing your luck,” Tilvanis said, rolling over.

“Who’s luck? I’m treating you. It seems like you’re getting the better end of the deal. I should have just left you on the floor to your master’s mercy.”

“Don’t call him that!” Tilvanis snapped. “He’s my employer, not my master.”

“What’s the difference?”

“To me? There’s a big difference,” Tilvanis replied. “I have no loyalty to him. He’s a pimple of a man who will likely drop me from his employ after my failure tonight. A master is someone you pledge your life to, someone who wouldn’t throw you out for the slightest disappointments.”

“Yes, well, that’s something I know all about,” Ebert said.

There was a stony silence after this while Ebert massaged the salve into the muscles of Tilvanis’s back.

“I lied, you know,” Tilvanis piped up after some time. “When I said I didn’t remember what I’d said to you at school. I do remember. I won’t apologize for it, but… I will admit that I was perhaps too harsh. I was… angry.”

“Hmm,” Ebert said. “I won’t say I forgive you, but I will say that I don’t blame you. For what happened afterward, I mean. I got myself expelled and on the wrong side of the law myself. I could have seen those books and simply left the library, never having done the experiment and saving myself ten years of grief. But…” He sighed. “I also wouldn’t have the life I have now, which is something I wouldn’t trade for anything in the world. A life you likely wouldn’t see any value in.”

“Sounds like you owe me, then,” Tilvanis said.

“Hah,” Ebert laughed sourly. “I said I don’t blame you, but I’m not going to thank you, either. You were a stuck up piece of shit then, and you’re still one now. Though, I suppose you got your personality honestly. I can’t imagine what you family must be like, if this is how you turned out.”

“You’re an asshole,” Tilvanis said with his eyes closed.

“So the pot calls the kettle,” Ebert retorted. “I’m done. You can redress, if you like.”

“Hmm,” Tilvanis said, sitting up. Ebert couldn’t help but notice that his cock was slightly erect, but he attempted not to react. Tilvanis seemed to realize, despite Ebert’s efforts. “You were very attracted to me back then, weren’t you?” He asked.

“What does that matter now?” Ebert asked, packing up his salve.

“You could still have me, if you wanted,” Tilvanis said, leaning back and widening his legs.

Ebert sighed irritatedly. “And what’s in it for you? You don’t do anything for free.”

“You’re right,” Tilvanis said, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. “I may have lost to you this evening, but I’m not an imbecile. I know why you’re here: you’re attempting to ruin my employer’s business. He’s been dodging accusations of illegal dealings for years. It’s one of the reasons he hired a personal sorcerer in the first place.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I’m saying I won’t stop you. I just don’t want to go down with him.”

“You might be fired tonight, anyway,” Ebert pointed out. “That would put you out of the crossfire as it is.”

Tilvanis looked at him with a flat expression. “I don’t want to go down with him and I still want to maintain my reputation as a sorcerer. I’ll need a new position after all of this is over.”

“Even still, I’m not interested,” Ebert said. “You’ve given me no reason to change my mind.”

“Are you sure?” Tilvanis said sultrily, sliding his hands up Ebert’s legs over the fabric of his very expensive suit. “I could give you pleasure you’ve never experienced.”

Ebert snorted. “You haven’t met Reverence,” He said, stepping out of Tilvanis’s reach.

“Command me,” Tilvanis said, slipping onto his knees at Ebert’s feet. “Tell me what you want. Just for tonight, be my master, and I’ll give you everything you need to ruin my employer.”

“I don’t need your assistance,” Ebert said. “Rings is, at this moment, collecting whatever evidence we need to ruin your employer. She’s likely got it and gone already.”

Tilvanis shook his head. “There are protections--”

Ebert stopped him with a raised hand. “That’s one of the first bits of magic I taught her, undoing protections over property. She’s more than capable of doing this part of the job herself, which is why she’s off on her own. She seems to think I’ll enjoy my time with you, though nothing so far has proven her right. I don’t need you.”

“What can I do to make you need me?” Tilvanis mewed, sitting like a good puppy waiting for treats.

Ebert contemplated the man at his feet with some dubiousness. He certainly wouldn’t have expected this from Tilvanis, not with his need to be on top of things and in control of every situation. He found it intriguing. On a hunch, he opened the drawer in the night table. Sure enough, there was a long, thick, golden chain with a clasp on one end and a handle on the other.

Ebert took the chain, attached the clasp to the ring on Tilvanis’s neck, and tugged it sharply upward. Tilvanis moaned slightly, his length bobbing in his lap, and he stood up. Ebert looked him up and down, examining Tilvanis’s body carefully, drinking in the slight form and impeccable skin. He flicked his fingers, and the door to the room locked. No key on earth would open it until another magic user dispelled the magic holding it closed.

“Undress me,” Ebert said.

“Yes, sir,” Tilvanis said. Ebert kept a tight hold on the lease as Tilvanis went around and slowly stripped him of his coat, waistcoat, shirt, undershirt, pants, and finally undergarments. Tilvanis seemed to take note of Ebert’s scars, but said nothing about them.

Tilvanis zeroed in on Ebert’s nipples, licking and sucking with his mouth and played with the other with his fingers. Ebert enjoyed it for a few moments before winding his fingers into Tilvanis’s hair and snatching him back.

“Did I tell you to do that?” He asked.

“Forgive me,” Tilvanis said. “What can I do to please you?”

“Mmm,” Ebert hummed. He moved onto the bed, pulling Tilvaris by the chain onto the bed after him, and lay on his back, propping his cane against the headboard. “There now,” He said. “This is more appropriate. Now you can continue.”

Tilvaris began kissing Ebert on the neck and collarbone, biting at his earlobes and jaw. As he moved in to kiss Ebert on the mouth, Ebert stopped him by putting a hand around his throat and putting enough pressure to hold him at bay.

“No, no,” He said, slowly releasing his grip. “You have to earn that. Make me feel good first.”

“Yes, sir,” Tilvanis said. His tongue, which was strangely dark in color and forked, slithered out from between his lips, and he licked Ebert slowly down his body, groping and caressing as he went. Ebert watched him, getting hard as he moved further down, his tip brushing the skin of Tilvanis’s abdomen as he inched downward.

Tilvanis kissed Ebert’s inner thighs and bit them, hard enough to leave faint fang marks, but not enough to hurt. He sucked the skin into his mouth, flicking his bifurcated tongue over it, before letting it out again with a pop, leaving a red-purple mark. He did this a dozen times before sitting up on his knees and looking at Ebert expectantly.

“Suck it,” Ebert commanded, yanking the lease forward.

Tilvanis jolted and smiled, his sharp teeth glittering behind his lips. “Gladly.” He bend down, running his tongue up and down Ebert’s tip, laving the head around and around, before slowly pulling Ebert’s cock into his mouth. Ebert groaned and lay his head back on the pillow, grabbing one of Tilvanis’s horns and moving his head up and down. Tilvanis’s hand reached down to fondle and gently squeeze his balls, pausing momentarily to lick up the line from bottom to top.

Ebert had to admit, he was certainly good at this. No wonder he’d gotten so far. It clearly wasn’t his magical talent. No matter, a person can be talented elsewhere.

“Do you have something?” Ebert asked.

Tilvanis knew what he meant. “In the drawer where the lease was.”

Ebert opened it and reached in, pulling out a vial of oil. He handed it to Tilvanis.

“You know what to do,” Ebert said.

“Say it,” Tilvanis said, dangling the vial.

“Put that on and fuck me,” Ebert replied.

“Yes, master.” Tilvanis uncorked the vial, which smelled floral, and dabbed some on his fingers. He began gently massaging it into Ebert’s pucker, moving his fingers in and out, around and around, while stroking him slowly at the same time.

“That’s enough,” Ebert said. “Fuck me like I told you to.”

Tilvanis poured a generous amount of the nice smelling oil onto his hand and spread it over his dick thoroughly, then lined himself up and pushed himself inside Ebert.

“Harder,” Ebert said. “I’m not going to split in half.”

Tilvanis grinned again and slammed himself into Ebert, the skin slapping sinfully. He stopped, then slammed again, making Ebert grunt.

“Be specific, master,” Tilvanis teased. “How am I to know what you want if you don’t tell me explicitly?”

“Don’t make me sick Rings on you! She’ll show you how it’s done!” Ebert said, grabbing Tilvanis’s waist and moving him. “Fuck me until I can’t walk!”

Tilvanis went on at full speed, smacking against Ebert’s body hard, anchoring his hands on Ebert’s hips and driving into him like a hammer into a nail. The grunting and groaning echoed throughout the chamber, and Ebert wondered if it was magically soundproofed. He hoped so.

He could feel himself getting closer to his peak. Just as he felt the wave crashing into him, he pulled Tilvanis down and kissed him on the mouth, moaning his climax against his lips.He spurted warmth over both of their stomachs and Tilvanis moved even faster, building to his own peak soon after, filling Ebert up, until he finally collapsed on top of Ebert.

The two of them lay there until Ebert finally wheezed, “I assume there is a washing chamber connected to this room?”

“Of course there is, I’m not an animal,” Tilvanis said. He lifted his head and looked off to the left. “It’s through that door.”

“Help me get clean, then,” Ebert said.

“Is that a command?” Tilvanis asked.

“What do you think?” Ebert retorted.

Tilvanis snorted and lifted Ebert up with ease. Water was already filling the large, in-floor tub of marble. Tilvanis laid him into the warm water, then jumped in after him, splashing him.

“Twat,” Ebert said, wiping water from his eyes. After a moment, he raised his arm and drew some sigils in the air, summoning two invisible servants. “Wash us,” He commanded, and the servants splashed into the tub, taking up sponges and began to clean the two of them.

“Now this is a nice idea,” Tilvanis said, laying back and allowing the invisible servant to scrub his body.

“Not a corpse-fucking idiot, am I?” Ebert said sourly.

Tilvanis inhaled a big breath and sighed. “I do regret saying that. And I regret what happened afterward. Perhaps if I had taken more of an interest, asked you what was happening, I could have dissuaded you from the mistake you made.”

“It was a mistake at the time,” Ebert said. “Though I cannot say I see it as such now. It’s why my life is the way it is. I have a home, a life, love, and even children.”

“You have children?” Tilvanis laughed. “My goodness, you certainly have changed.”

“Change isn’t a bad thing, you know,” Ebert said. “You might benefit from budging a little.”

Tilvanis snorted. There was a knock at the door.

“That’ll be Rings,” Ebert said.

“How do you know?” Tilvanis asked.

“The pattern of the knock,” Ebert replied. “Come in, Rings!”

“You locked the door magically,” Tilvanis said.

“I told you,” Ebert replied as she waltzed in, carrying several documents. “Unlocking magically locked doors was one of the first things I taught her.”

“Having fun, I trust?” She said. “Oooh, bathtime. Definitely fun.”

“Want to join us?” Ebert asked. “You should give Rings a try, Tilvanis. You’ve never met a woman as dominant as she is. If you want a master, you’re looking for her.”

Rings began to strip down. “Reverence is the master, I just like playing the role sometimes.”

“You’ve mentioned this person before,” Tilvanis said as he took Rings’ hand and helped her down into the bath. Ebert summoned a third invisible servant, and Rings purred happily, laying against Tilvanis. “Who is this Reverence?”

“She’s one of my partners and the leader of the Temple of Fysy,” Rings said as she wiggled in Tilvanis’s lap. “You should visit one day. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.”

“A temple?” Tilvanis said dubiously. “I’m not religious.”

“Neither are we,” Ebert said. “But Reverence will do things that make you believe in a god, even if it’s her.”

Tilvanis snickered. “Perhaps a visit is in order.”

In the following weeks, Tilvanis’s employer quietly stepped down as head of his company, and Tilvanis stepped in to take over. Rings and Ebert were invited to the party to swear him in, and he tried not to look too smug about it.

Tilvanis did, indeed, make a pilgrimage to the temple and enjoyed all the gifts contained within its walls. He met Reverence, and was just as smitten with her as everyone was. He began making monthly visits to worship and leave donations. Within a year, the temple and it’s village was more prosperous than it had ever been.

Ebert and Tilvanis became friends, and sometimes lovers, and funded many jobs for Rings and Ebert. Though their reunion was tense, their lives were re-entwined, and Ebert finally felt truly fulfilled.

Thanks for reading!

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

Text

Dumont (Part 2) Lemon

Another commission for @ocsmutpocalypse. Dumont and the party stop in a town to rest, and Kharis makes an important decision. Please reblog and leave feedback!

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Sanoh, Rupert, Norman, and Dumont traveled together down the road to the next town, hoping to find paying work, while Kharis lay on Dumont’s back, eyes closed and arms behind her head as if sunbathing. He was walking on all fours as he often liked to do, and his back was so broad that she had no worry of falling off. She seemed to enjoy this mode of travel quite a lot and did it whenever the weather allowed.

“Why do you do that?” Sanoh asked. “You treat Dumont like a horse and it’s weird.”

“He likes it,” Kharis said, rolling on her stomach and scratching gently at the base of his spine. “Don’t you, bubba?”

“I do like it,” He replied. “It’s nice to have you close by.”

“Aww, my big boy,” Kharis said, laying her cheek on his back. “So sweet to me.”

Sanoh snorted and shook her reptilian head. Rupert smirked at her and took her hand.

They came to a crossroads that had a signpost and stopped.

“Ah, good,” Rupert said. “Dumont, can you read the post? We’re going to Vasenville. Which way should be go?”

Dumont had spent most of his life living with a guardian who couldn’t read, therefore he’d never learned how to read himself. Rupert had been spending time with Dumont and was teaching him a number of things, including reading. Dumont was a very quick study, much to Rupert’s surprise. It was easy to underestimate Dumont’s intelligence based on his size and monstrous looks. paired with the fact that he’d had little to no education before meeting the group.

Dumont’s unblinking eyes looked at the post carefully for a moment, after which he said confidently, “left.”

“Good! Very good!” Rupert said, clapping a hand on Dumont’s upper arm, which was thicker than Rupert’s entire body. “Left we go!”

Dutifully, Dumont led the way toward Valenville.

Dumont tended to get a lot of funny looks when he went to different towns. He was a tiefling, but he was born… not quite right. He was far too large for his kind, nearly twice the height and width of even the tallest and burliest of tieflings. The bone of his lower jaw was exposed, and his eyes were large and bulging with no eyelids to cover them. He brick red, had no hair on his body, and his horns took up all of his scalp with blood-red veins running along them.

He was an unsettling person to look upon if you weren’t used to him, and it had drawn the ire of some of the towns they had gone to. His traveling companions were quick to jump to his defense, and Kharis was a force to be reckoned with when she was angry, but Dumont understood better than they did. His guardian, the priest of the church where he was raised, always kept him hidden and out of sight, not for a lack of love for Dumont, but for fear of what others would do to him if they found him.

He was lucky that the first people he met after his foster father’s death were kind. It would have been easy for a less than scrupulous person to use his innocence and naivete to enslave him.

As usual, he got a lot of stares as he lumbered through town with Kharis sitting across his shoulders, a leg dangling from either side of his head and a hand on each of his horns to steady herself. She narrowed her eyes and hissed at people who gawked at Dumont, and that was usually enough to force most people to avert their gaze.

Another problem Dumont had in most towns was that the inns they stayed in often weren’t large enough to accommodate him. Many times he couldn’t even get through the front door, so he ended up having to stay in the cellar, stables, or out in the back behind the building. in those cases, Rupert and Norman would set up a tent for Dumont to curl up in.

Thankfully, the stables were empty of horses and open for free shelter for those who couldn’t pay for an inn. Dumont laid out his large leather bedroll on the straw and settle himself for the evening as the others made their way toward the tavern. Kharis promised to return with his dinner.

He missed his friends when he had to sleep away from them, but it wasn’t much different than sleeping in the bell tower of the church, so he didn’t mind it so much. Still, he was lonely.

After an hour, Kharis appeared with a large jug of mead and a platter of food, mostly de-boned meats and bread. He had no lips to chew properly, so he had to tear his food with his claws, chomp it once or twice with his large, sharp teeth, and then swallow it whole.

“Here you go,” She said, sitting with him. She looked around at the stable stall and sighed. “I’m sorry you’re reduced to sleeping in pen like an animal.”

“I don’t mind,” Dumont replied. “It’s free and plenty large enough for me, at least.”

“Well, I mind,” Kharis said venomously. “It’s demeaning. One day, I promise to take you to a place where you’ll fit through every door.”

“Is it like a church or a cathedral?” He asked.

She chuckled mirthlessly. “It might as well be, except the only god they really pray to is politics.” She looked off into the middle distance. “Maybe I shouldn’t take you there after all.”

“Would I embarrass you there?” Dumont asked. He often wondered if she found the attention he drew uncomfortable. He certainly did. After spending his entire life in the shadows, the sudden swarm of gawkers everywhere he went was disconcerting to him. He felt like the constant spotlight on him was a detriment to her journey.

“Absolutely not!” She said sharply. “If anything, they would embarrass me in front of you, the pompous twits, not the other way ‘round. And if they had a word to say about you, they’d be dealing with me.”

“Well, you are scarier than me,” Dumont said, laughing a little.

“Damn right, I am,” Kharis said, jutting her chin up.

“It would be nice to go to a place where I fit into proper buildings and things, though,” Dumont agreed.

Kharis looked him up and down, a coy smirk on her face. “I can think of a couple of places you fit very well,” She said suggestively.

Dumont often didn’t understand the context of people’s tones, like sarcasm or seduction, so when Kharis said things like this, it often confused him.

“Where is that?” He asked guilelessly, but when she began to unlace her bodice and untie her pants, and he whispered, “oh.”

“Hungry?” She asked him as she stripped down.

“For you, always,” He said.

She pulled the stall doors closed and walked to the opposite wall. “I want to ride your shoulders like I did this afternoon, only in reverse. Want to try?”

He nodded his head and came close, picking her up under her thighs and pushing her up against the wall, pinning her there and throwing her legs over his shoulders. His long, long tongue came out and pressed itself against her outer lips, massaging up one side and down another. Over the two months they had been together, she had taught him many techniques she enjoyed, and he used them to great effect. His immense strength and eagerness to please also worked greatly in his favor.

“Mmm,” She mewled, breathing heavily. Her hips moved of their own accord, and her lips swelled and heated as her arousal grew. She gripped his horns as he circled the bud with his tongue without actually touching it, stretching the pleasure and denial out as long as possible. Dumont had learned to tell when she was enjoying it and when she began to find it frustrating, and as soon as he felt that anxious tension in her body, he flicked the tip of his tongue against the pearl, making her hiss sharply.

He growled lowly, vibrating his tongue against her, the tip of it teasing her entrance as the broad part of it contracted against her clit, rubbing it up and down. Her entire pelvic area was sandwiched between his jaws. Her fingernails raked the back of his shoulders and across his neck.

“Inside,” She gasped, and Dumont obliged, thrusting his tongue into her roughly, quick and hard. She cried out, bracing against the wall hard. He held her hips fast in his grip so that she couldn’t escape and ravished her with his tongue. She was now making a lot of noise and he was a little concerned she would draw concerned passersby.

Finally, her orgasm crested and ebbed and she sighed in satisfaction, her eyes closed. He pulled her down from the wall, turned her over on her stomach, and pulled her hips toward him as be began unlacing his trousers.

“Yes,” She breathed. “Yes. Yes, please.”

Dumont lined himself up, saliva from his jaws dripping on her buttocks as he leaned over her, he pressed himself into her dripping wet entrance. She whimpered over and over as he slowly slid as far inside as he could reach before causing her pain and pulled back out again. He started slow, but quickly gained pace as time went on.

“Oh, fuck,” She said through gritted teeth.

He bent over her body and grabbed her by her waist, lifting her up so that she was flush with his body. She reached back and grabbed his horns, howling with pleasure and he slammed into her. He knew she loved the feeling of being held up by him like she weighed nothing more than a ragdoll while still being in complete control at the same time. She was always in control.

A door opened someone outside of the stall, and a voice called, “Is everyone all right in here? I heard screaming--”

“Fuck off, asshole, I’m getting laid!” Kharis shouted at the intruder, and the door shut again quickly. “Don’t stop,” She ordered Dumont. He was happy to obey.

He could feel the now familiar wall of ecstasy welling up in him, slamming into his body, reaching from his head to his toes, his body locking up, and he roared, spilling into her repeatedly. Under his hand, he could feel her belly swell slightly from the amount of his seed pushing its way inside.

As she lay under Dumont, boneless and gasping, and he rolled to the side to prevent crushing her, they heard the door open cautiously again.

“Are you sure--”

“FUCK OFF!” Kharis yelled, and the door slammed shut.

“You don’t have to snap at the poor man,” Dumont wheezed. “He genuinely thought you were being hurt. He was doing a good thing.”

“He was interrupting my play time,” Kharis said, unmoved. “He deserved to be chided.”

“I’m afraid we may have terrified him,” Dumont said. “He may never come into this stable again.”

“Good. Let him think it’s haunted.” Kharis got up, wiped herself down with a spare cloth in her pack and lay on Dumont’s chest, fully naked. “You know, I have thought about it a lot.”

“About what?” He asked, confused. “Haunted stables?”

“No!” Kharis said, slapping his chest playfully. He jumped, like he always did to make her laugh, though it didn’t hurt at all. “About bringing you to that place I told you about. I sort of left without saying anything to anyone, so I should probably check in so they don’t think I’m dead.”

“Why did you leave?” Dumont asked. “You don’t talk much about your family. Were they cruel to you?”

“No, not cruel, but we… were weren’t much of a family, really. I’m closer to you and the party than I’ve ever been to them, and I’ve known you all less than six months.” She lay her head on him and sighed. “I think we do love each other, just not the way normal families do. I don’t know if that’s a product of our station, or if we’re just not predisposed to familial bonds, or what. It’s just the way it’s always been.”

“That sounds sad,” Dumont said.

“Yeah,” She agreed. “I suppose it is a little sad. But I do miss them. I should go back, and I’d like you to come with me. The others, too. What do you think?”

“I’ll go wherever you ask,” Dumont said. “I’m with you.”

“Aww,” She hugged him, or tried to, since her arms had no chance of making the full circle around him. “You’re so sweet.” She sat up on him, straddling him, with her hands braced on his chest, looking down at him with a shrewd expression.

“What’s the matter?” He asked.

“If… if I told you I had lied about some things, would you be angry?” She asked tentatively.

“It depends,” He said, cocking his head curiously at her. “What things?”

“Well… My name isn’t Kharis, for starters.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“It’s… Enania. Enania Enjor.”

“That’s very pretty,” Dumont said.

“Thank you,” She said, laughing nervously. “But that’s not all.”

“Tell me, then,” He said. “Don’t be afraid.”

She smiled softly. “Well… I’m not a ranger. Well, I am, but I’m something else, too. Something I was before I became a ranger.”

“Which is?”

She winced. “A princess.”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

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thetravelerwrites · 5 years

Text

Fuzz (MLM Mothman) Lemon

Rating: Explicit Relationship: Male Human/Male Mothman Additional Tags: Exophilia, Mothman, Male Reader, Male Monster, D&D, Dungeons & Dragons, Tabletop Gaming, Interspecies Romance, Social Anxiety, Gay Monster, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Anal Sex, Safe Sex, Condoms Words: 7185

A fun commission for @severedreamerbeard. A man meets a shy silkmoth mothman in a hobby store during a free comic day, and invites him to play D&D with his friends. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

Free Comic Friday always drew a huge crowd in your favorite local comic shop, but it was packed to the rafters today. The first issue of a graphic novel reboot had dropped and they were offering five hundred free copies, first come first served. You’d been dying to get your hands on it since the reboot had been announced, and you couldn’t believe it was finally out.

Happily swinging the bag around, you didn’t leave immediately once you got your copy like most of the crowd had done. This was one of your favorite places to hang out. It wasn’t like a lot of comic shops that seemed to only attract one demographic; there was always a nice mix of different people. Tabletop gamers, comic enthusiasts, collectors of various nerdy things, cosplayers who needed supplies to make their costumes: all sorts came through here and you loved it.

You got a text from your friend, Shannon, who knew you’d be there and snickered. She’d lost her D20, again, and wanted you to pick up another one in blue, preferably with sparklies so that it matched her current favorite set. Rolling your eyes and smirking, you headed for the dice aisle.

To your surprise, there was a very large, tall mothman standing there, though he was hunched over a little, rolling a die over and over. It was a new type of die that lit up when you rolled it, and the moth’s eyes brightened every time he saw the lights inside activate.

He was almost all white and extremely fluffy; the fluffiest part of him was the ruff around his neck. His large wings were folded against his back, complete with long tails on each like a lunar moth. He had four arms, the top pair larger than the lower pair, which were sort of wrapped around himself, and his hands had two long, large fingers and a thumb each, all a velvety brown in color. He wore no clothing, only a baseball cap with his brown, feather-like antennae sticking out of the holes at the top. The cap said “Will Work for Cuddles” on it.

Mothmen were rare, and you’d seen one or two before, but you’d never been close enough to one to actually talk to them.

“That’s a great set,” You said. “They just got them in last week.”

The mothman jumped, startled, but he grinned a little. “Heh…” He stammered nervously. “Yeah. I… I hate to perpetuate a stereotype, but I am attracted to things that light up.”

He spoke softly, like he was nervous people would hear him. It was cute, but you almost worried about him. The poor thing must have been terrified to come in here with so many people, but the pull of nerd junk can be strong sometimes.

“Do you play?” You asked him, gesturing at the die.

“Play?” The replied, confused.

“Yeah, D&D,” You said, and after a moment of him continuing to look confused, you elaborated. “Dungeons and Dragons. The tabletop game. What you use these dice for.”

“Oh!” He exclaimed, fidgeting. “No, I… I’ve never played. I’ve always wanted to, but… none of my friends are into nerdy stuff like I am. That and I’m kind of new in town, so I haven’t met many people yet. I was lucky to find this hobby shop. I was just walking past and saw it and figured I’d stop in. Is it always this busy?”

“On free comic day, absolutely,” I said with a smile. “So... not to be creepy since it’s literally the first time we’ve met, but my friends and I play every Sunday evening. We’re actually about to start a brand new campaign. You’re more than welcome to join. If you like, you can come ‘round Saturday at lunch and we can build you a character sheet, so that your prepared for the campaign.”

“Really?” He said, his voice timid but excited. “I’d love that! Thanks so much!”

“It’s no trouble,” You said, pulling out your phone. “Here, put your info in my phone and I’ll text you my address.”

He took your phone with a big grin on his face and put in his number. You took your phone back and looked.

“Fuzz?” You asked. “That’s a little on the nose, ain’t it?”

He laughed, a really pleasant sound. “It’s a nickname. Uh…listen… I… I’m actually on my lunch break, so I need to get back to work, but… I’m really looking forward to playing with you and your friends. I’ve always wanted to try.”

“We’d love to have you,” You told him, smiling. He bade you farewell and left, looking back before he headed out of the door and smiling widely at you one last time.

You looked down at the light-up dice, pursed your lips, and snatched up a whole set of them plus a carry bag. You were halfway to the check out when you realized you forgot Shannon’s D20 and doubled back for it.

The next day at lunchtime, Fuzz arrived at your home with pizza in his hand. You were going to throw together some grilled cheeses, but this was way better.

“Thanks, man,” You said, taking it and setting it on the counter in your apartment.

“No prob,” Fuzz replied. His neck ruff seemed to have been brushed shiny and the hat he wore today said “Nap Champion.” “I didn’t know what kind of toppings you’d like, so I just went for a good ol’ cheese.”

“I love cheese,” You told him. “I’ve got you a fresh character sheet printed out and the manual ready. You can look through it while I’m plating this up. What would you like to drink? I’ve got soda, beer, water, and apple juice.”

“Is it… weird if I ask for juice?” He said shyly, hunching his shoulders. “It’s better for my stomach than the other things.”

“Apple juice it is,” You said, pouring a glass. You took the plates and cups to the table, watching Fuzz go over the character sheet with a dumbfounded look on his face.

“I am very confused,” He murmured, almost to himself.

You laughed. “Well, that’s why you’re here. I’ll teach you.” I sat next to him and took a big bite of pizza. “Okay, so, first, you’re going to choose your race. It makes everything after that a little bit easier. I know this sheet tells you to choose a name first, but choosing a name is easier if you know what race you are, because certain races have naming conventions. Like, Tabaxis have tribal naming conventions, so you can’t choose a name like… Frank, for example.”

“Got it,” Fuzz said.

“Take a look at mine,” You said, pulling out your own character sheet full of annotations and stats. “My character is a calashite human cleric, which is like a priest, devoted to the god of knowledge, and my alignment is Lawful-Good. Now, most races will have default alignments, but you can decide what you want yours to be.”

“Okay,” Fuzz replied, trying to keep it all straight. “Hmm… are there any insect races I can play as?”

“Unfortunately, no,” You told him. “But, the cool thing about fantasy is that you can be whatever you want.”

“But I want to be a bug,” He said dryly.

You snorted. “Just look through and see if there’s something you like.”

“Oh!” He exclaimed, pointing at a drider. “That’s a bug!”

“That’s an arachnid,” I pointed out.

“Same difference,” He said.

“Don’t spiders eat moths?” You joked.

“I will take my pizza and go home, mister,” Fuzz said, poking fun right back. You were glad he was getting comfortable enough with you to joke around.

“Driders aren’t playable either,” You replied, laughing. “What about a shifter? That way you can take on aesthetic characteristics an insect, if you like. And the single-skins have white hair, like your fur.”

“Okay, okay,” Fuzz said. “What about a name?”

“Shifters usually have monosyllabic names, so anything you can think of with a single syllable.”

“Like Fuzz, you mean?”

“Are you really going to call your character by your real name?” You asked, smiling.

He smiled back, his lips the same velvety brown as his antennae and hands. “I told you, it’s a nickname. Trust me, it’s better than my real one. Only my parents and siblings know that.”

“Not even your girlfriend?” You asked him.

“Ah… no girlfriend,” He said, shrugging shyly and ducking his head, his antennae waving a little erratically. “I.. uh… don’t lean that way, if you know what I mean.”

You waved your hand. “I’m bi, so no judgment,” You told him, and he relaxed.

You both settled on alignment, level, and class, and then it was time to roll for his stats.

“Oh,” He said with a frown. “I… shit, I don’t have dice.”

“No worries,” You told him, taking out the bag you bought and rolling out the light-up set he’d been admiring.

“You bought those for me?” He asked, his shyness returning, reaching for the bag with a cautious grin.

“Yep,” You told him. “It’s no big deal. I knew you’d need a set and you seemed to like these, so I just--”

You were cut off when he grabbed you with his large upper arms and hugged you. God, his fur was soft. You’d never actually touched it before now, but with your face pressed against it, it was softer than angora and smelled like fresh herbs.

He released you suddenly, as if catching himself doing something he hadn’t meant to do. “Sorry, sorry… that was just… really nice of you.”

“Hey, it’s totally cool. I’m a hugger, too,” You told him, patting his upper shoulder. “Alright, let me show you how the dice work and then we’ll roll for your stats.”

You’d had a great time with him fleshing out his character, and once he got over his initial shyness, he was one of the funniest people you’d ever met. He had you in stitches until dinnertime, when he told you he had to go home and unpack. Apparently, when he said he’d just moved there, he meant just. You got another hug as he left, and it was just as soft and warm as the first one.

You felt a little disappointed after he was gone and couldn’t wait to see him the next evening.

For the next twenty four hours, you felt fidgety and restless, excited to see Fuzz again and start the new campaign. Rick had been working for weeks on the plot and obstacles, and he was always the best DM.

Fuzz met you at your house wearing a ball cap that read “Don’t Mess with Me*” and in fine print under the asterisk, continued with, “I’ll Cry A Lot and It Will Be Uncomfortable for Both of Us.” He gave you one of his warm, cuddly hugs and rode with you to Rick’s place. Rick, Shannon, Dag, and Jenna were standing out on the porch with sodas and beer, talking and laughing, and they saluted you with their various beverages as you drove onto the driveway.

“Hey, buddy!” Rick said as you got out of the car. “This your new friend?”

“Fuzz,” The shy mothman said, tentatively reaching out a hand.

“Ha! That’ll be easy to remember,” Rick said, shaking his hand. “I’m Rick. This is Dag.” Rick pointed at a large orc with a sort of a gold tan over his light green skin who gave Fuzz a half-salute. “Jenna.” She was a human with dark skin and tight curls who waved at Fuzz with a bright smile. “And Shannon.” Shannon was part fae, you knew, but you were never sure what her exact nature was. But, then again, all fae were like that. She had pearlescent skin and rosy hair cut short and buzzed on one side. Her bright green pupils were slitted and just a bit too large for her face. Fuzz ducked his head and and gave a little nod each time someone was introduced, trying to make eye contact.

“We’re just waiting for Russel. Can I get you something to drink?” Rick asked Fuzz.

“Do you, um… do you have water? Fizzy stuff makes me a bit sick,” Fuzz said.

“You got it, bud,” Rick said, reaching for a bottle out of the cooler.

Russel was Rick’s twin and lived next door, but he was always late. You didn’t understand why, but Rick shrugged and said he’d always been like that. It’s why Russel wasn’t allowed to DM.

Russel wandered over about five minutes later, and an a minute or two after that, the sushi that Rick ordered showed up. After paying, the seven of you went into the house to get started.

“Okay, so, everyone has their completed character sheets ready to go?” Rick asked, and you all held up your papers while stuffing your faces with california rolls. “Good. Dice? Minis?”

“We didn’t have time to make Fuzz’s mini,” You said.

“No big deal, I’ve got a ton of spares. I always keep a few blanks on hand because of this dingus over here.” He gestured at his brother. “He always forgets to make a miniature.” Rick handed Fuzz a box with blank miniatures in it, carefully separated by foam. Fuzz picked a slender humanoid and set it in front of him.

“Now,” Rick said. “If we are all ready to proceed?” He looked around the table and everyone nodded. Fuzz was shifting in his chair with both nervousness and excitement. “Very well. Our adventure starts in the midst of chaos! Inside a small inn of the road inside the land of Turmish, on the edge of the Sword Coast, a bar fight is raging. The bar is affectionately known by travelers as The Drunken Worm, and for good reason. Currently, though, windows are being smashed up, tables are being thrown, people are flying through the air, there is an absolute roar of voices drowning out any other sound. And in the midst is someone trying to calm the turmoil, only to have a chair smashed over her head. Shannon, that would be you, please describe your character.”

“Okay,” Shannon said, bouncing a little in her seat. “I am a very large, dark blue dragonborn named Anshez. I have a shortish snout with sharp teeth jutting out of my lips. I have two sets of horns on my head, which now have bits of wood dangling from them, and three lines of ridges down my back to the tip of my tail. My eyes are blue as well, and I’m wearing contrasting light blue robes with slits up to my knees for easier movement, and I have a large bastard sword strapped to my back.”

“Excellent,” Rick said, writing that down. “Now, for the unfortunate person who was wielding that chair.” Rick pointed at you. “What is your character?”

“I’m calashite human cleric,” You said. “My name is Khemed Pashar. I’m quite up there in age, as far as humans go; before I decided to travel, I spent forty years in a monastery in study and prayer. I have greying hair and a pale complexion, and I’m wearing white robes with a green panel down the front lined with silver embroidery. The panel has the insignia of the god of the pursuit of knowledge, Oghma, my patron. My only companion is a guide I hired a few days ago.”

“Why is a cleric hurling chairs?” Dag asked.

“I’m just going with the story, man,” You said.

“Anyway,” Rick said. “Anshez, who was once trying to calm the situation, is now slowly drawing her blade from the sheath on her back. Suddenly, someone appears and grabs her arm.”

“That would be me,” Jenna said. “I am a mustard yellow tiefling ranger named Varan, with horns and hooves that are shiny black. My eyes are also black and reflective. I’m wearing a knee-length dress of tightly woven chainmail and a leather vest over it. I have bracers on both my lower and upper arms. I grab my friend’s arm to stop her from hurting the frail looking human and try to calm her.”

“Roll a persuasion check,” Rick said.

“16, and I have a +2 advantage,” Jenna said.

“You are successful in talking down your partner, though she is still angry.”

“If I apologized, would she forgive me?” You asked.

“Roll for it,” Rick said. You rolled. Nat 1. The table burst into uproarious laughter.

“She would not,” Rick said with a chuckle. “In fact, she can barely hear your apology over the din, so she thinks you’re mocking her and she’s now holding a grudge against you.”

“Shit,” You said, grinning.

“Can I jump in?” Fuzz ventured cautiously.

“Definitely,” Rick said. “Your character?”

“I’m a wildhunt shifter druid,” Fuzz said. “I’m just under seven feet tall, and my current mask takes on the characteristics of a brown bear. I’m wearing a hat with a veil that covers most of my face and a pair of loose pants that doesn’t obstruct my movement. I’m in the employ of the cleric; he hired me to be his guide.”

“Good, good.” Rick makes notes. “Your name?”

“Fuzz,” He said.

“Your character name,” Rick said.

“That’s is my character name,” Fuzz said with a shy grin.

Rick snorted. “Okie-dokie. What are the two of you doing in all this?” He asks Dag and Russel.

“We’re bards,” Dag said. “I’m a halfling playing a fiddle.”

“A halfling? Really?” Tiny Shannon said, snickering.

“You’re a dragonborn, shut up,” Dag said, and Shannon giggled, playfully slapping his arm. “My name is Taurin Goodwort. My companion and I are on the small, dingy stage in the corner, trying to play over the noise. We’ve been paid, so by gods, we’re going to do our jobs. I’m wearing a coat that’s slightly too big but my clothes underneath are finely tailored and well fitted. I’m a dapper dude.”

“I’m also playing, but I’m a lute player,” Russel said. “I’m a grey tabby tabaxi not much taller than my halfling friend. My name is Game of Chance, but I go by Chance. My clothes are flashy and covered in shiny trinkets and bells that jingle to the beat when I stomp my paws.”

“Aww,” Jenna said, scratching behind Russel’s ear. He whacked her hand away, and she grinned.

Once the introductions were finished, the campaign was underway. Despite the chaos of the bar fight, the six of you hear the woeful tale of a patron of the bar, a missing son, an actual dragon, an actual dungeon, and all the traps that is implied. Fuzz opened up slowly as the campaign waged on, and his druid had the party in howling with laughter by the end of the night. When the seven of you wrapped up for the night, Fuzz had an open invitation to come back, with or without you.

Fuzz came to every Sunday session from then on, and though it took him some time to get over his anxiety around people, he swiftly became friends with everyone at the table. Despite how much he and the other were getting along, though, he always sat next to you. Perhaps even though he was getting over his shyness, he was still more comfortable next to you.

You weren’t complaining; you liked being close to him. In fact, the two of you had become really good friends, having lunch twice a week and texting constantly. You had your phone in your hand at all times, waiting for his response. You’d woken up with a dead phone on your chest on a number of occasions.

One weekday, after painting his miniature, he took you for dinner, although he didn’t know any good spots since he was still new in town and told you to pick. You decided on Japanese, though the restaurant was a bit full, and it made him nervous. You offered to go somewhere else, but he said it was fine and that he’d brave it, but only for you, making you blush a little. You grabbed his hand and led him through the throngs of people, and his grip tightened on yours.

It took a month for you to realize that… maybe you weren’t just feeling friendship for Fuzz. You liked him a lot. You thought about him all the time and looked forward to his hugs and touching his fur and listening to his laugh and the chittering noise he made when he was happy or excited.

Then, one late evening after the two of you had said goodnight, you had other thoughts. You wondered what his… intimate parts looked like. What they felt like. What they tasted like. And the idea excited you. Thinking about it, you felt yourself getting hard, and you stroked yourself to the thought of touching him, finding out where his private places were and playing with them, and teasing them. Kissing him and cuddling him and getting him to make those cute noises you loved to hear. You moaned at the thought, jerking faster as your imagination ran away with you. You came all over your hand and stomach, gasping and sweating, but it wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted him. Nothing else was good enough.

During the sixth session after Fuzz had joined the campaign, when he wore a cap that just said, “LAMPS!” in big, bold letters, your party had located the lost bar patron’s son, but he was a mind slave to an aboleth, one of many, enslaved to dig out an enclave for the creature to built it’s own small hold, so it could rule by itself. Aboleth’s are extraordinarily selfish creatures, and while they often group together, this one’s desires had driven him to make its own place to lord over. The trick was going to be defeating the aboleth without hurting any of the enslaved, as they were all sons and daughters of the local villages.

It was hard to concentrate on the game with Fuzz next to you. He always sat next to you during every game, but he seemed especially close this evening. You’d glance at him surreptitiously to find him looking at you. When you caught him, he’d smile and look away. He seemed to find reasons to touch you, whether it was to pass you something or to reach past you for something. His fur smelled as good as it always did.

You were filled with such doubts, though. Could you just be reading to much into it? You hadn’t really dated a lot, and you’d never dated a non-human. What if he was just overly friendly to compensate for his shyness? What if you told him how you felt and he didn’t feel the same? You enjoyed spending time with him, and he was so shy that you were scared of pushing him away with your feelings. You tried to push it out of your mind. You had an aboleth to defeat.

“For my turn, I’m going to make a mad dash an possibly take the hit so that I can cast Dispel Illusion to get rid of the aboleth’s secondary illusion,” Jenna said.

“Uh…” Rick checked his notes. “The aboleth is at level 13, and you are level 7, so you only have slightly more than half a chance of this working, so roll for it.”

“Um…” The clattering of Jenna’s die as it rolled across her board. “13, and I have +5 intelligence.”

“Okay, so your spell was successful, but it won’t stop him from creating another in a few minutes and that’s the end of your turn. You’re surrounded by enslaved and they are being driven to rip you apart.” He rolled his die. “They pretty much tear you to shreds. You take… 63 points of damage.”

“Gah!” Jenna said, flopping back into her chair and huffing. “Balls. I’m down.”

“I’m going to use the diversion to summon fiendish monstrous scorpions to draw the enslaved away,” Fuzz said.

“Nice,” You told him in an undertone. He grinned sideways at you.

“Chance and I take this opportunity to check the pond for other enslaved that we hadn’t seen.” Both Dag and Russel rolled. 18 and 12.

“You don’t see anything, only the aboleth growling menacingly at you, preparing to summon another illusion,” Rick said.

Shannon and Jenna then began pulling unconscious enslaved away from the pond.

“Alright, so my big finishing move,” You said, tugging at your sleeves confidently. “Now that I know the pond is free of collateral damage, I cast Lightning Bolt.”

“Roll for your attack.”

“Buh… Ooh! 27!”

“Lightning Bolt is affective!” Rick said. “But the aboleth is not completely destroyed.”

“So we all bum-rush him?” Fuzz asked.

“Hell yeah!” Shannon exclaimed. “Except for Jenna, cause she dead as fuck.”

Jenna stuck her tongue out. “Hey, I broke through enemy lines, gave you guys an advantage, and died like a goddamn hero, so you can suck on all my balls.”

“You ain’t got balls!” Shannon said.

“You don’t know my life!” Jenna shot back.

“I’m your wife, dumbass!” Shannon retorted.

“Would you guys shut your cakeholes and kill this thing, please? I would like to go to bed before 2 A.M. this time,” Rick said.

With the aboleth destroyed and the slaves freed, you collected a hefty bounty from the grateful townspeople and wrapped up the session with big hug all around.

As the night was winding down, with people finishing off snacks and getting their coats and belongings together, Shannon cornered you in the kitchen.

“So, what’s going on with you and Fuzz?” She asked in an almost-whisper.

You looked back over your shoulder anxiously, worried that Fuzz overheard, but he was talking to Dag and Rick.

“What are you talking about?” You asked.

“Oh, please, you are so obvious and oblivious at the same time. Everyone in the group know the two of you are practically in love with each other except for you and him.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” You told her dismissively. “Even if I did like him, I have no way of knowing if he feels the same way. And I’m not saying I do have feelings for him.”

“Oh my god, are you serious?” She said exasperatedly. “I’ve watched the two of you make goo-goo eyes and ‘accidentally’ on-purpose touch each other all night. He’s head over heels for you. And you are for him, I can tell. We can all tell. Hell, we have a pool going for when you guys are just going to give in and fuck.”

“Shannon!” You hissed. She had said that last sentence a little too loud for your liking.

“Look, you guys have lunch by yourselves all the time, so it’s clear you’re comfortable being alone. Just ask him to go out with you!”

You sighed, looking back over at Fuzz, wearing that sweet smile on his face and laughing at something Dag said.

“I’ll think about it,” You told her.

“I bet I win the pot,” She said, grinning cheekily, and you shooed her off with an impatient grimace.

On the way home, you scratched the back of your neck and asked, “So, I know you’re new to the area, so I’m sure you don’t know much about the local events, right?”

“Nothing at all,” He replied. “Why?”

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You wondered if he could hear it. “Well, next week’s session is postponed because of our town’s fireworks festival. Do you like fireworks?”

He chirruped excitedly, which was probably the most adorable sound you’d ever heard in your life. “I love fireworks!”

“Awesome! That’s awesome…” You gulped a little. “That’s really good, because I was… wondering… if maybe… you’d like to go with me?”

“Yeah!” He said. “Is the group going?”

“Oh, yeah,” You said, clearing your throat. “They’ll be there, but I, uh… I was thinking maybe it could, you know, just… be the two of us?”

“Sure, that’ll be fun, but why aren’t we going with the group?”

“Because…” You said, struggling to get the words out. “This is special. I want to spend time with you. Just with you, you know what I mean?”

You pulled into your driveway and parked before turning to look at Fuzz. He was gaping at you.

“You mean, like a date?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You said. “If that’s okay?”

“That’s totally okay,” He said, a slow grin spreading across his face. “I’d love to go with you.”

You laughed in relief. “Awesome. I can’t wait.”

You both got out of the car and he gave you a hug before leaving, lingering a little longer this time. You ran your fingers through the fur of his back, up and down, and he sighed before pulling away.

“See you?” He asked.

“See you,” You replied.

The next weekend, you picked him up at his apartment. He had a basket in one hand and a quilt over his shoulder. His hat said “I Like Shiny Objects” on it. Apt for the situation, you thought.

He raised a free hand in greeting. “Hey!”

“Hey,” You said in return as he got in. “Ready?”

“Very much so,” He replied, and you smiled at him. “I’m glad you asked me out. I wanted to ask you, but I was too anxious.”

You felt a blush creep up your neck. You were glad it was already dark.

“When do the fireworks start?” He asked.

“Seven-thirty,” You replied. “I want to get there early to find a good spot.”

Fifteen minutes later, you arrived at the fairgrounds to realize that you weren’t the only person to have this idea. The place was already packed. You frowned.

“Well, so much for that idea,” You said.

“What’s behind that fence over there?” Fuzz asked, pointing past the field.

“Oh, nothing but forest,” You told him. “There’s supposed to be wildcats out there, so it’s to keep kids out.”

“We aren’t kids,” Fuzz said.

“Yeah, but I don’t know where the the gate is, and that’s too high for me to climb,” You told him.

“Oh, no,” Fuzz replied a little sarcastically, fluttering his wings a bit. “What a dilemma. Whatever shall we do?”

You smirked, feeling your heart flutter as well. “You want to fly over?”

“Got a better idea?”

You put your hands on your hips and ducked your head, unsure. You felt one of his hands on your cheek and you looked up at him.

“Trust me,” He said softly.

His large thumb was achingly close to your lips, but you resisted and urge to kiss it. “I do.”

He grabbed you around the middle with your arms around his neck and flew you up and over the fence from a secluded corner of the field. He managed to find a hill with a very small clearing, perfect for a quilt, sitting right next to a big oak tree.

“This is amazing,” You told him, looking down the hill with a clear view off the field and the sky. “You can see everything from this vantage.”

“You like this?” He asked, setting down everything he brought.

“Yeah,” You answered. “It’s incredible.”

“Good,” He said in a soft voice, coming up behind you and wrapping both arms around you. “We can be alone here for as long as we like.”

His voice was low, almost seductive, and you’d never heard him use it before. It sent tingles down your spine and in… other places.

The two of you lay out the quilt and the spread he’d prepared. It was the quintessential date picnic: fruit, cheese, wine, crackers, all kinds of fancy things that you’d never actually had before, like fig jam and stuff. It was all really cool, but it felt strangely “by the book.”

“Fuzz, can I ask you something?”

He looked at you with a surprised expression. “Sure, anything.”

“You’ve never been on a date before, have you?” You asked him.

His face fell a little. “That obvious, huh?”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that,” You assured him. “And this is amazing, and I’m having a great time. I just don’t want you to think that you have to do all of this,” You waved your hand at the picnic. “To win me over. You’ve already done that. I wouldn’t have asked you out if I didn’t like being with you.”

He smiled. “I do have a tendency to second-guess myself. It’s just… being gay is difficult for humans, but it can be more so for non-humans. I don’t know why, but there’s this expectation that if your not human and sentient, you have to like girls. Human beings would be shocked how many non-humans aren’t straight.”

“I wouldn’t,” You said. “Shannon’s a lesbian, and I’ve known her forever. I know full well that non-humans don’t live by the same standards that humans do, and humans can be blind to that, even among their own people. I guess that explains why you’re so shy.”

He laughed. “Nah, I’ve always been like that. I’ve never really--”

At that moment, the first shell when off, catching Fuzz’s attention. He got up from the quilt and walked to where the hill just began to slope downward and watched the fireworks with a look of pure joy. Wanting to be close to him, you stepped in front of him and pressed your back against his front. He circled his arms around you again. And for a moment, the two of you just watched the lights.

You turned your head and looked up at his face, seeing the bursts of colored embers reflected in his large, black eyes, and you were mesmerized. He noticed you watching him and looked down at you, smiling his soft, sweet smile.

And he kissed you.

His lips were as velvety as they looked, and you spun in his arms to reach yours around him, pressing your body as close as you could. The pop and crackle and flashes of light against your closed eyes made this seem like a dream, but you were bathing in the sensation of having his body wrapped around you. God, you had wanted this.

When you broke apart, you were both breathing heavily.

“So…” You began stroking the fur on the back of his neck. “I had a question…”

“About?” Fuzz asked.

“Well… you don’t wear clothes… but I’ve never seen your… well… your dick…”

Fuzz’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. He seemed momentarily at a lost for words.

“O--oh,” He breathed finally. “It’s… that’s because… it’s tucked away. Inside me. I comes out when I…”

“When you’re aroused?” You guessed. He nodded, not meeting your eye. “Is there some way I can… make that happen?”

He looked back up at you with wide, huge, terrified eyes, “Yes,” He whispered. He took your hand and led you back to the quilt. Cautiously, he reached out a hand and tugged at your shirt, but stopped short before actually removing it. You helped him get the shirt off you and he continued to undress you until you were naked in front of him. He ran the fingers of his upper right hand down your torso, starting at your collarbone and stopping at the tuft of hair that sat just about your ridged length.

“This is definitely helping,” He said breathlessly.

“What can I do?” You asked eagerly. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while now.”

“You have?” He asked hopefully. You nodded and he laughed in relief. “Me too.”

He sat back against the oak tree and opened his legs in front of you, reaching down with his lower pair of hands to part the fur at the apex of his legs. There, you saw a slit, mostly brown like his hands and lips, but fading to pink as it went inward.

“Just touch,” He said. “It’ll open.”

You knelt down in front of him and pressed a finger to the slit, slowly rubbing it up and down. A low trill issued from Fuzz as he let his head fall back against the tree and his breathing hitched. The hands of his upper arms took your face in his hands and pulled you forward for a deep kiss as you massaged the opening, feeling it begin to pucker and pulsate at your touch. It widened slowly, and you daringly inserted your pinky inside, feeling the tip of a slick organ begin to push itself out.

Fuzz gasped at this new sensation and moaned a little. Slowly, it came out and you were able to see it at last. It was pink like the inside of the opening and darkened to the familiar velvet brown at the tip. You put your hand around it and pumped it a few times before bending down and pulling the tip into your mouth. It was sweet, like honeysuckle. His hips convulsed and he started to whisper, “please, please.”

You felt around for your wallet and pulled out a condom and two single-use packets of lube. You tore open the condom with your teeth and started to work it down his shaft.

“I’ve never…” He said, gulping. “I’ve never done this…”

“Do you want to stop?” You asked him, your hand stilling on his hardened girth.

“No!” He said. “No, no, I want this. I just… I’m sure I won’t be any good at it.”

“That’s okay, Fuzz,” You said, kissing him as another shell popped in the distance, lighting up the sky and trees around you. “I’ll teach you. Trust me.”

“I do,” He whispered.

You took a packet of lube and tore it open, squeezing some of it onto his fingers.

“First is to open me up a bit, so to speak,” You told him, turning and kneeling over. “Massage it into the skin for a few minutes, and them push a finger in.”

You felt him follow your instructions and groan into the ground as he pressed and rolled and circled the sensitive skin, finally pushing one of his thick, long fingers inside you. You gasped at feeling and encouraged him to move it in and out, eventually adding the second finger.

Once you felt like you were ready, you told him to sit back against the tree, and he complied. You took the second packet of lube and squirted it into your hand, lubing him up before pulling yourself to face level and kissing him as you positioned yourself over him. Slowly, you slid down onto him, feeling him slide against the bundle of nerves deep inside you. Both of you gasped at the same time and clung to each other as the fireworks continued to light up your naked bodies in the darkness.

You started to ride him, listening to his trilling and chirping, and all four of his hands found interesting things to do. The pair on the bottom held your hips as you rocked back and forth, up and down, in his lap. His upper right hand caressed your face while the left reached between you and began to stroke you slowly, sweetly, in a way you had been dying to be touched.

You sped up, and his trilling got higher in pitch. You reached up and gently pulled his hat off, careful of his antennae.

“We should both be naked,” You gasped, laughing. He laughed too before moaning your name, kissing you and tightening his grip on your cock slightly. You held him close to you, whispering into his ear that you were going to cum. He said he was close, too.

You came before him, spraying yourself all over his stomach. He grasped your hips harder and thrust faster for a few moments, then he released a high pitched chirrup that repeated over and over, and you could feel him releasing into the condom inside you.

You could barely hear the sounds of the fireworks over the rushing in your ears. He held you tightly with both of his arms, gulping down air. Finally, you got up and pulled off the used condom. You had a small bag and a couple of single-use wipes in your wallet for such… situations. You cleaned him up and wiped yourself off, too. Then, the two of you lay there, nude, on the quilt and watched the grand finale.

Best first date ever.

The next day, you woke up in his apartment pressed into the fluff of his chest. You stretched and groaned sleepily, looking at the collection of ball caps displayed proudly on every inch of his bedroom walls. He roused himself as well.

“Good morning,” He said with a happy smile.

“Good morning yourself,” You replied, giving him a quick kiss.

“Do you work today?” You asked.

“No,” He said, stretching like a cat. “I took today off. I was hoping we’d end up like this, so I… planned for it.”

“Aww,” You said, scratching his unusually bare head. “Wanna spend the day together?”

“Sounds like a great idea,” He said, grinning. “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast sounds good,” You told him. “Is it alright if I run back to my place to grab some fresh clothes?”

Breakfast will be ready when you get back,” He said, bouncing out of bed.

You laughed at him, but really, you felt just as happy. You dressed quickly and headed out, popping up on tiptoe and kissing the back of his neck as you passed him in the kitchen.

Just as you got into your car, you got a text from Shannon: >Did you guys do it?

You rolled your eyes. >None of your business.

As you started your car, you got a reply. >Ha! I won the bet!

At your place, you grabbed a change of clothes and a couple more condoms and packets of lube, and started back for Fuzz’s apartment. While driving, something in the window of a store caught your eye and you decided to stop in. It was a little early for gifts, but… what the hell? This was the perfect thing and you knew he’d love it. How could you not buy it?

Back at his place, he was putting plates on the table.

“Hey, you okay? I was getting worried you weren’t coming back,” He said.

“Nothing of the sort,” You replied, handing him a bag. “I just saw this and thought of you.”

“You got me a present?” He said, both confused and delighted. “Why?”

“Cause I like you. I don’t need another reason,” You told him.

He laughed loudly and opened the bag. From inside, he pulled out a baseball cap that read, “My Boyfriend Thinks I’m Funny.” He smiled softly at it before putting it on his head.

“How does it look?” He asked.

You smiled widely. “It suits you.”

He grabbed your butt, pressed you to his side, and kissed you, wrapping you in his arms like the cuddlebug he was. Then fed you the best breakfast you’d had in a decade.

You guessed you owed Shannon a new set of dice. A nice set.

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