#Content Creation Essentials

[thepolishedemporium]

Upgrade Your Content Creation: 7 Must-Have Tools

7 Must-Have Tools Every Content Creator Needs to Elevate Their Videos As a content creator, having the right tools makes all the difference—whether you’re vlogging, filming TikToks, or capturing aesthetic Instagram shots. I’ve tested my fair share of products, and trust me, these must-haves have made my life so much easier. If you’re serious about leveling up your content game, here’s the gear…

[rubberduckyrye]

You ever see a post that you agree with and you wanna add on your own two cents but your brain is like "Hmmmm.... nah. I wanna watch House MD clips instead."

[newsjet]

Arab Newswire on Skills Essential for Media and Communications Professionals in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) Today

DUBAI, UAE – (ARAB NEWSWIRE) — The Middle East has always been a region of dynamic cultural, political, and economic change, with its media landscape continuously evolving to reflect these shifts. The rise of digital media, the changing political climate, and an increasingly globalized world have transformed the role of media and communications professionals in the region. Today, professionals…

[jcmarchi]

10 Best Plugins For Adding AI to Your WordPress Website – Speckyboy

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/10-best-plugins-for-adding-ai-to-your-wordpress-website-speckyboy/

10 Best Plugins For Adding AI to Your WordPress Website – Speckyboy

Artificial intelligence (AI) has entered the mainstream. We’re finding more and more products that integrate with the technology. WordPress plugins are a prime example.

These plugins add a variety of AI-powered features to websites. Some are there to spur creativity, while others are all about saving you time. The trend is helping to spawn new products and enhance existing ones.

AI is rapidly changing the WordPress ecosystem. So, we wanted to explore the different ways plugins are using it. Will they make our lives easier? Will they help users? Let’s find out!

Here’s a collection of WordPress plugins that, in one way or another, add artificial intelligence to your website. Some are longtime favorites, while others are upstarts breaking into the ecosystem. We hope you find them useful!

Rank Math is one of many SEO plugins that integrate AI into their product. The difference here is in the depth of the AI tools offered. There are options for generating entire blog posts, outlines, SEO titles and descriptions, fixing grammar mistakes, and more.

You’ll need a free account to access the various AI features. The benefit is making SEO easier for novices and experts alike. Generating various types of content provides a solid foundation. You’ll have more time to focus on other areas of your site.

Automattic’s do-it-all suite offers Jetpack AI Assistant, allowing you to generate various types of content. For example, the tool will generate a featured image for your blog post based on its content or a custom prompt.

In addition, it will help improve grammar, rewrite your content, or generate an entire page. There’s a free tier with 20 monthly requests, while paid plans offer higher limits.

Here’s an option that specifically targets WooCommerce stores. Kestrel AI is a commercial plugin that generates or optimizes product descriptions, replies to customer reviews, and adds order notes.

It places an icon on relevant areas of the screen. Click it, and the assistant will help you perform the noted tasks. The plugin works with OpenAI and includes placeholders that pull the correct product data.

Here’s proof that AI integrations don’t need to overwhelm users. OptinMonster is a plugin that creates popups and opt-in forms to generate leads. The plugin features a “smart optimization” tool that uses AI to improve the content of your popup. It doesn’t generate text for you. Rather, it seeks to improve what’s already there. It’s a subtle-but-helpful use case.

AI-powered chatbots are on the rise. They aim to answer user questions and help them find relevant content. WPBot uses services like ChatGPT and DialogFlow to provide a “live” chat with a virtual assistant.

The plugin’s pro version can also train AI on your website’s content, leading to better answers and more efficient resource usage. Other features include adding custom text responses, an option for users to contact you, and multi-language support.

AI Engine is a suite of tools for adding artificial intelligence to your WordPress website. Install the plugin, insert your OpenAI API key, and add features.

What sort of features? You can add a chatbot, generate images and text, translate content, and run various tasks inside WordPress. The plugin will also help you keep track of API usage, an important feature, as the costs can add up.

You can use Uncanny Automator to link all sorts of website activities together. For example, these “triggers” can send a customer a follow-up email a few days after they order a product. There are integrations with several popular plugins.

It also ties in with OpenAI, allowing for automated blog post summaries, social media posts, featured images, translations, and more. It’s a natural extension of what the plugin already does.

Categorizing and tagging content isn’t always easy. The goal is to create a logical structure for your content. That’s better for SEO and users. TaxoPress is a taxonomy management plugin that helps you create and manage that structure.

The pro version offers an AI integration (OpenAI, IBM Watson) that automatically creates and determines the best taxonomies for your content. It removes an often frustrating step from your content creation workflow.

AI Power is notable for its compatibility with several large language models (LLM). You can connect the plugin to OpenAI, DeepSeek, Claude, Gemini, Azure, and more. Choose your model and take advantage of an all-in-one collection of website tools.

You can optimize your site’s SEO, bulk-generate content, create a chatbot, use text-to-speech capabilities, or generate images. You can also train a model on your website’s content for a more personalized experience. There are free and pro versions available.

Sensei LMS is a plugin for building online courses. The pro version offers a few handy tools powered by AI. First, an auto Quiz Generator will create questions based on your course’s content. The second is a Tutor AI block available through the Sensei Interactive Blocks add-on.

It adds a chatbot that can answer user questions regarding your course content. The block isn’t limited to Sensei – it’s also compatible with other LMS plugins. It’s an example of how AI can improve the online learning experience.

Bring the Power of AI to Your Website

We’re still in the early days of AI. Thus, the plugins in this roundup are only scratching the surface of what may come down the road. Still, they offer both convenience and utility.

The key is finding options that fit your needs. You may notice that there is some overlap in what these plugins do. For instance, several plugins generate text and images. The odds are you don’t need more than one of these for your website.

With that, consider how you can use AI to improve your website. Perhaps you’re all about streamlining your workflow or improving the front end for users. There are good options here either way.

What will the future bring? It’s safe to say AI will have tighter integrations with WordPress and will be able to accomplish more useful tasks. We can’t wait to see what’s next!

More Essential Free WordPress Plugins

Related Topics

[ai4nonmarketers]

Unlocking Predictive Analytics for Small Businesses

Unlock the future of small business success! Dive into our latest blog post to learn how predictive analytics can transform decision-making, boost customer retention, and optimize your marketing campaigns. Start leveraging data-driven insights today. Read now:

Predictive analytics is transforming how businesses make decisions, plan for the future, and connect with customers. For small business owners and non-marketers, this concept may seem intimidating, but it’s no longer the exclusive domain of data scientists or large corporations. Today, with user-friendly tools and accessible insights, even the smallest businesses can leverage predictive analytics…

[delhijeetechacademycourses]

Whether you're a beginner or looking to enhance your existing skills, AI training in Delhi provides a great opportunity to stay ahead in the digital world.

[toolsforthedigitalmarketer]

Essential Digital Marketing Tools Anyone Can Master

Mastering digital marketing starts with knowing the right tools to use. These tools are not just for experts—they’re designed to be user-friendly and accessible to anyone wanting to improve their digital presence. Here’s a curated list that will help you get started, even if you’re a complete beginner.

1. Google Analytics: Your Window into Website Traffic

Google Analytics is like the ultimate map of your website’s traffic. By installing it on your site, you’ll see where your visitors come from, what they’re reading, and how long they stick around. The best part? Google provides free resources to help beginners understand the basics. Once you’re comfortable, you’ll be able to monitor key stats like page views, session duration, and which pages people bounce off from, giving you insights to improve your site’s content.

Try This: Start with the Audience Overview report to see where visitors are coming from, and check the Behavior section to understand popular content.

2. Canva: Create Eye-Catching Visuals with Ease

Creating beautiful graphics for social media, blogs, and ads doesn’t require a design degree when you have Canva. With its intuitive drag-and-drop interface, anyone can pick a template, add their text, colors, and images, and voilà—a professional-looking graphic! It’s perfect for social posts, flyers, or any visual content you want to create.

Pro Tip: Start with a template, customize the colors and fonts to match your brand, and don’t forget to explore Canva’s vast library of stock images and icons.

3. Mailchimp: The Friendliest Email Marketing Platform

If you’re interested in email marketing, Mailchimp is a great place to start. Its straightforward interface helps you design, automate, and send emails that engage your audience. With Mailchimp’s templates, you can easily put together a professional email, even if it’s your first time.

Getting Started: Set up a free account, create a small contact list, and use a template to design your first email newsletter.

4. Hootsuite: Your Social Media Organizer

Hootsuite is a lifesaver for anyone managing multiple social media accounts. This tool lets you schedule posts, track engagement, and even see what people are saying about you across different platforms—all in one dashboard. Hootsuite’s simplicity makes it accessible to anyone, even beginners.

Try This: Link your social media accounts, schedule a week’s worth of posts, and track how each post performs.

5. SEMrush: Discover SEO Opportunities

If you’re interested in making your content more visible on search engines, SEMrush is your go-to tool. It’s great for researching keywords, seeing what your competitors are doing, and even analyzing your site’s SEO performance. While it may look complex, SEMrush provides tutorials that help you learn the basics quickly.

First Step: Start with a keyword search relevant to your content or business, and see what similar sites are ranking for. This can help you build an effective SEO strategy.

6. Google Ads: Explore the World of Online Advertising

Google Ads lets you create paid ads that appear at the top of Google search results. While the thought of running ads might feel advanced, Google Ads provides a step-by-step setup wizard to guide you through. Once you’re familiar, you’ll be able to target specific keywords and audiences.

Quick Tip: Start small. Set a low budget, select a few relevant keywords, and track your ad’s performance to see what works best.

7. BuzzSumo: Find Trending Content Topics

If you want to know what topics people are currently interested in, BuzzSumo is your answer. This tool helps you find trending content in your niche by showing you what’s popular across the web. It’s perfect for discovering new ideas and understanding what your audience cares about.

How to Use It: Enter a keyword related to your topic, and BuzzSumo will show you the most shared content on that topic. This can help you brainstorm ideas and create relevant content.

8. Google Trends: Stay on Top of What’s Popular

Google Trends is ideal for finding out how popular a topic is over time. Whether you’re looking for seasonal trends or just want to know what’s buzzing, this tool can guide your content strategy.

Try This: Enter a keyword, set the date range, and explore how interest in the topic has changed. Use this information to plan timely content.

9. Trello: Organize Your Digital Marketing Projects

Trello is a simple project management tool that helps you organize tasks visually. For digital marketers, it’s a fantastic way to plan campaigns, track content ideas, and manage projects. Each project can have its own board with customizable lists and cards, making project tracking a breeze.

Getting Started: Set up a board for your content or campaign ideas, create cards for individual tasks, and move them as you make progress.

10. Yoast SEO: Make Your Content SEO-Friendly (for WordPress Users)

Yoast SEO is a beginner-friendly WordPress plugin that helps you optimize your content for search engines. As you create a post, Yoast will prompt you with tips, like using keywords in titles, meta descriptions, and headings, making SEO feel much simpler.

Pro Tip: Follow Yoast’s prompts as you write, and aim for the “green light” score to improve your content’s searchability.

Conclusion: Start Simple, and Build Your Skills

These tools are not only effective but also designed with beginners in mind. With some practice, you’ll soon be using them like a pro. Each one adds value to your digital marketing skills, whether it’s understanding your audience, creating engaging visuals, or planning content efficiently. Remember, the journey of mastering digital marketing starts with familiarizing yourself with these essential tools.

[appsforsmbs]

Unlock the secret to effortless efficiency and watch your content soar to new heights with this game-changing solution.

The Most Effective Tool to Accelerate Your Faceless Channel Growth

[imfromsixam]

Besties: Me and my Cat (CC Pack for The Sims 4)

Introducing "Besties (Part 2): Me and My Cat" CC Pack!

I'm super excited to bring you the second part of the Besties series, now focusing on our beloved feline friends! In the first part, I shared with you guys a collection all about the beautiful bond between dogs and babies. For this second part, I thought I’d switch things up a bit. Instead of focusing on cats and babies, I wanted to highlight something just as heartwarming—the special relationship between cats and adults. Yes, you guessed it, I’m talking about the delightful world of cat ladies (and gents)!

This pack has loads of goodies for your Sim’s cats. There are two new versions of the cat tree: one with a cozy little house and another that looks like a cool cat gym on the wall. Your cats will love the new bed, scratchers, and another bed shaped like a tiny house. Of course, I’ve got the essentials like a litter box and food, but let’s be real—we all know the ultimate cat item is the cardboard box!

And because I know how much Sims love their kitties, I’ve added some fun items for a cat-obsessed Sim’s bedroom. I was going for an eclectic vibe this time. There’s a new classic bed with cute cat details on the pillows, a cat-shaped lamp for the night table, and an adorable armchair with cat accents. Plus, I’ve got new curtains and, most importantly, picture frames to show off the beauty of your Sim’s cats.

I’ve put a lot of love into this CC pack and can’t wait for you to enjoy it. Don’t forget to tag me in your social media posts—I can’t wait to see your amazing creations with your Sims and their feline besties!

Enjoy the fun and whimsy of The Sims 4 custom content, and as always, happy simming! 😊🐱📦

▶ ABOUT THE CC PACK

Build: 2 Wallpaper, 1 Floor

Comfort: Armchair, Double bed, Bench with blanket, Bench

Decorative: Cat food, Curtians (all sizes), Paitings, Rug

Lighting: Table Lamp

Pets (Requires Cats and Dogs EP): Bed (cardboard box), Food bowl, Cat tree (large), Cat tree (small), Bed with scratcher post, Cat climbing wall, Litter box, Scratch post (carrot)

Storage: Dresser, Dresser (opened)

Surface: Night table

GET EARLY ACCESS HERE

[reasonsforhope]

"In an unprecedented transformation of China’s arid landscapes, large-scale solar installations are turning barren deserts into unexpected havens of biodiversity, according to groundbreaking research from the Chinese Academy of Sciences. The study reveals that solar farms are not only generating clean energy but also catalyzing remarkable ecological restoration in some of the country’s most inhospitable regions.

The research, examining 40 photovoltaic (PV) plants across northern China’s deserts, found that vegetation cover increased by up to 74% in areas with solar installations, even in locations using only natural restoration measures. This unexpected environmental dividend comes as China cements its position as the global leader in solar energy, having added 106 gigawatts of new installations in 2022 alone.

“Artificial ecological measures in the PV plants can reduce environmental damage and promote the condition of fragile desert ecosystems,” says Dr. Benli Liu, lead researcher from the Chinese Academy of Sciences. “This yields both ecological and economic benefits.”

The economic implications are substantial. “We’re witnessing a paradigm shift in how we view desert solar installations,” says Professor Zhang Wei, environmental economist at Beijing Normal University. “Our cost-benefit analysis shows that while initial ecological construction costs average $1.5 million per square kilometer, the long-term environmental benefits outweigh these investments by a factor of six within just a decade.” ...

“Soil organic carbon content increased by 37.2% in areas under solar panels, and nitrogen levels rose by 24.8%,” reports Dr. Sarah Chen, soil scientist involved in the project. “These improvements are crucial indicators of ecosystem health and sustainability.”

...Climate data from the study sites reveals significant microclimate modifications:

Average wind speeds reduced by 41.3% under panel arrays

Soil moisture retention increased by 32.7%

Ground surface temperature fluctuations decreased by 85%

Dust storm frequency reduced by 52% in solar farm areas...

The scale of China’s desert solar initiative is staggering. As of 2023, the country has installed over 350 gigawatts of solar capacity, with 30% located in desert regions. These installations cover approximately 6,000 square kilometers of desert terrain, an area larger than Delaware.

“The most surprising finding,” notes Dr. Wang Liu of the Desert Research Institute, “is the exponential increase in insect and bird species. We’ve documented a 312% increase in arthropod diversity and identified 27 new bird species nesting within the solar farms between 2020 and 2023.”

Dr. Yimeng Wang, the study’s lead author, emphasizes the broader implications: “This study provides evidence for evaluating the ecological benefit and planning of large-scale PV farms in deserts.”

The solar installations’ positive impact stems from several factors. The panels act as windbreaks, reducing erosion and creating microhabitats with lower evaporation rates. Perhaps most surprisingly, the routine maintenance of these facilities plays a crucial role in the ecosystem’s revival.

“The periodic cleaning of solar panels, occurring 7-8 times annually, creates consistent water drip lines beneath the panels,” explains Wang. “This inadvertent irrigation system promotes vegetation growth and the development of biological soil crusts, essential for soil stability.” ...

Recent economic analysis reveals broader benefits:

Job creation: 4.7 local jobs per megawatt of installed capacity

Tourism potential: 12 desert solar sites now offer educational tours

Agricultural integration: 23% of sites successfully pilot desert agriculture beneath panels

Carbon reduction: 1.2 million tons CO2 equivalent avoided per gigawatt annually

Dr. Maya Patel, visiting researcher from the International Renewable Energy Agency, emphasizes the global implications: “China’s desert solar model could be replicated in similar environments worldwide. The Sahara alone could theoretically host enough solar capacity to meet global electricity demand four times over while potentially greening up to 20% of the desert.”

The Chinese government has responded by implementing policies promoting “solar energy + sand control” and “solar energy + ecological restoration” initiatives. These efforts have shown promising results, with over 92% of PV plants constructed since 2017 incorporating at least one ecological construction mode.

Studies at facilities like the Qinghai Gonghe Photovoltaic Park demonstrate that areas under solar panels score significantly better in environmental assessments compared to surrounding regions, indicating positive effects on local microclimates.

As the world grapples with dual climate and biodiversity crises, China’s desert solar experiment offers a compelling model for sustainable development. The findings suggest that renewable energy infrastructure, when thoughtfully implemented, can serve as a catalyst for environmental regeneration, potentially transforming the world’s deserts from barren wastelands into productive, life-supporting ecosystems.

“This is no longer just about energy production,” concludes Dr. Liu. “We’re witnessing the birth of a new approach to ecosystem rehabilitation that could transform how we think about desert landscapes globally. The next decade will be crucial as we scale these solutions to meet both our climate and biodiversity goals.”"

-via Green Fingers, January 13, 2025

[kastalani123]

Not my usual content, but I just. I wanna ramble, ig.

Do you understand how baffled I was about how the vampire book, written by a man in 1897, is essentially a PSA about how important proper communication is?? Even after I scrolled through Tumblr, saw the memes, read people geeking out about the relationships (platonic and romantic) in Dracula, I was still caught off guard, because. Like. Everything in this book is about communication.

Sure, it's kind of a given, considering it's an epistolary novel partially made up of letters between the characters, but. I dunno. From Dracula controlling Johnathan's lettres, van Hellsing refusing to tell anyone shit, the men keeping Mina out of the loop, to Mina using her telepathic link with Dracula, it's. It's literally all about how important actually talking to each other and sharing information is. Fuck, throw in the fact that "Harker", Mina and Jonathan's, arguably the main characters, last name means "to listen"/"eavesdropper", and that the book is Mina's in-universe creation to help compile, organize, and share what they know about Dracula, and the book's very essence becomes centered around information-sharing!

And I just. The narrative punishes just about every secret hidden, every time the characters don't communicate. There's the obvious, Dracula keeping Johnathan from sending out letters for help and Mina getting bitten because the men leave her home alone, but also. Van Hellsing not telling Lucy's mom that the garlic flowers and closed windows and so on are the treatment and she is not to touch them is what kills Lucy and her mom! They maybe could have survived if he just told them what's happening/what he's doing! And even the godsdamned telegram he sends to Seward! If he had just addressed it properly (communicated to the telegram boy properly!) then Seward wouldn't have been late and maybe could have prevented the massacre!

There's also Jonathan's diary right after he finally reunites with Mina, and obviously Mina's whole ✨ thing ✨ with the diary during their wedding is like. Peak romance, but Johnathan doesn't fully get better until Mina reads and shares it with van Hellsing and van Hellsing assures Johnathan that he's not insane. Sure, it's an oversimplification of PTSD and healing and such, but it makes sense, especially if you consider communication and information sharing as a major theme! Only sharing his experiences, reading through them himself after blocking off the memories, is what heals him! He cannot get better without knowing what happened, and without others knowing what happened, because knowing and sharing is important.

Renfield's also an interesting case. I don't have the book with me right now to check, but as far as I remember, he tries to talk about Dracula, tries to get Seward to release him from the asylum so Dracula can't use him against Mina, but is dismissed entirely; as a consequence, Dracula gets in the building, kills Renfield, and bites Mina.

Even the language barriers! The villagers Johnathan meets on his way to Dracula's castle try so hard to warn him of the danger but they can't. They can't, because they don't speak enough of the same language, but they try so hard. But whatever does get through to Johnathan, such as that woman begging him to take the crucifix she gives him — that might've saved him. It keeps him unsettled and wary and he does keep the crucifix, which wards Dracula off. They can't communicate the full extent of the danger, but what they managed is probably responsible for him surviving.

And the whole idea is even mentioned in-text! Sure, Lucy saying that a wife ought to share everything she knows with her husband is definitely sexism-flavoured, but Johnathan says it too! He says that his idea of an ideal marriage is one without secrets! And Johnathan is effeminate, yes, he spends a good chunk of the book as the "damsel in distress", but he is still the hero! He is still the one who kills Dracula (with Quincey), and can therefore be assumed to be an intended role model. The (male) main character and hero of an 1897 novel says that a good relationship relies on communication. Sure, he doesn't always stick to it, mostly by agreeing to keep Mina out of the loop when van Hellsing pushes for it, but that doesn't discount that that is what Stoker set as the ideal.

I just. I love this book so much. It subverted just about all expectations I might've had about it and I'm so glad for it. It's undeniably a product of its time, with plenty of racism and sexism and ableism, but it's also so. Not, at the same time? It's so good.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

“Thou Shalt Not Covet.” // Angel!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: An angel's duty is to protect and guide humans; never to desire them, for it is a sin. Yet Aemond, the most trusted angel of God, finds himself yearning and desiring for you, a human.

WARNINGS: nsfw, mdni, smut, dubious consent(?), afab! human!fem!reader x angel!aemond, masturbation (m.) unprotected p in v sex, tiddy sucking, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (f. receiving), forbidden relationship, body worship, blasphemy(?), creampie, cumming inside breeding kink, slightly disturbing content at the end, religious themes. + NOT PROOFREAD

WC: 4.5k

A/N: so I'm officially breaking my hiatus with this piece, I know I haven't posted for over two months and I apologize for that! Exams and everything practically ate my life away! // divider creds to @cafekitsune

God's most trusted angel, Aemond Targaryen, was no ordinary angel. He was sincere, always performing his duties without fail. He was respected amongst his peers, the most obedient angel of god.

Lately there have been rumours about the curse of being God's favourite, whispers about the old tale that all knew very well started resurfacing, the tale of the fallen angel. An incident that is now used as a way to warn angels from disobeying God and trudging the path of temptation.

Must all angels that were favoured by God fall into the way of sin? It has happened before, it might happen again.

Aemond decided that he would never be like that, he wants to prove that he is nothing like the fallen angel and how being God's favourite angel is not a curse, but rather a blessing.

And he did just that. Until a day arrived when he was sent to the land below on an urgent mission.

Aemond was reluctant to descend down to the land of people but he had to on the order of God, his mission was simple, to guide humanity through the famine that was occurring along with the drought that was caused by the devil to wreak havoc amongst the villagers. Messing with God's treasured creations has always been the devil's hobby after all.

And so he disguised himself as a human, helping men, women, children alike to recover, he blessed the land with fertility so that the land could produce crops once again. It was not an easy task, he had spent many weeks on the land, learning how humans function and go about their life which was quite a contrast to angels.

He also learnt how frail the human body is, how much energy is required to perform tasks and an unfamiliar feeling of hunger which he never felt when he was an angel. Every sensation was new to him but he overcame all the difficulties in order to finish his duty.

At least, that is what he had thought…

“Ser?! Are you okay?!” A voice shrieked in shock as he blinked his eye open to see an unfamiliar face with the look of concern staring down at him. You noticed how pale his face was and how dull his features looked, his lips were dry and chapped.

You were just taking a walk through the forest in search of medicinal herbs when you encountered this man lying unconscious in the middle of the path which made you panic thinking he was dead. You sighed in relief when he opened his eye.

“What happened to me?” He asks confused and you furrow your brows, “You fainted.” You tell him and he sighs “Why? I have been eating well though.” He mutters to himself and you clear your throat, you noticed how his face showed signs of dehydration earlier so you end up asking him a question “Did you drink water?” to which he replies with a “No, why?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in disbelief, “Water is an essential thing to survive, you fainted because of dehydration.” You explain his situation to him and he lets out an annoyed sigh, “Ugh, why are human bodies so frail and require so much material to sustain oneself?” He grumbles and you stare at him confused.

“Whatever, drink this.” You give your pouch of water and he drinks it greedily unknowingly, emptying the entire sac, he hands it back to you. Aemond tries standing up but immediately stumbles, however you catch him just in time so he doesn't fall. “It seems the dehydration was worse than we thought, my house is nearby, let me take care of you.” You offer him help and he just simply nods, “Lean onto me okay?” You instruct him and he does as you say. You lead him to your house.

It was a small house amidst the woods but not further inside, you opened the wooden door with one hand and pushed it with your foot and led both you and the man inside. You opened the door to your small bedroom and took him inside, helping him lay on the bed.

“Please rest comfortably.” You smile at him and he nods, “I will go and prepare medicinal tea so you can recover.” You inform him before getting up and reaching the exit.

“Wait!” He calls out and you turn around with a questioning look, “May I get your name?” he asks politely and you give him a small smile, “It's Y/N” You tell him and he smiles back at you, “ ‘Y/N’ such a pretty name.” He mutters to himself before looking at you, “Thank you Y/N.” He appreciates you genuinely which makes your heart flutter and you give him a nod. “What is your name?” You ask out of courtesy “Aemond.” He replies with a slight smile and your eyes widen, “Oh like the angel!” You affirm and he nods, “Like the angel, yes.”

“You have such an amazing name, that too it being after God's favourite angel.” You compliment him genuinely and he nods shyly. You take that as a cue to leave the room and prepare the tea for him.

Tying your beige apron; you quickly pull out the jar of dried hibiscus petals from the wooden shelf before taking a few of the petals and grinding them slightly, you added those grinded petals into the bot of boiling water and let it simmer for a minute before blowing off the fire and straining the liquid into a wooden cup.

You carry the hot beverage into the room only to find Aemond asleep, ‘his body must've been overly worked without any water’ you smile to yourself before placing the cup down onto the table, the slight noise startling and waking Aemond up from his slumber.

“Oh I apologise, I did not know that the noise would startle you.” You say in a slightly amused voice and he shakes his head, “It's alright.” he replies. “I bought the tea, you can drink it when it cools down.” You point at the cup on the table next to the bed and he nods, “Thank you.” He appreciates your hospitality.

You give him a small smile and he returns it, and then the room falls silent, awkward tension filling the air. You clear your throat in an attempt to break the tension before speaking up “So… I've never seen you around this area before or in the town, are you new here?” You question him.

“Mhm, I just recently got into this town after hearing the news of famine spreading here.” He answers truthfully, he had been going around the area into multiple villages and towns, solving the famine.

“Ah yes, there has been a shortage of food supplies since our land did not produce any crop this year.” You say sadly, thinking about how all the once healthy people in the town now look starved and unhealthy because of the shortage of food.

Aemond notices your sadness immediately and he grabs your hand, wanting to reassure you but the moment his skin comes in contact with yours, he feels electricity shoot up his spine that makes him retreat his hand immediately.

“Are you okay?” You ask concerned, reaching out for his hand. His breath hitches when you touch him, you examine his hand thinking something happened to it, all the while he's trying to control his breathing.

Why does his body feel hot when you touch him?

He gives you a quick nod and pulls his hand away from your grip and grabs the drink in order for the gesture to not seem rude, but luckily for him you don't dwell on it too much.

“Famines and Drought occur when the devil wants to mess with God, something he does for attention while thousands of people are affected.” Aemond grits his teeth, thinking about the reason why many humans are dying and you look at him confused, “And in these times of difficulty, many forget to pray, because all of their time is spent surviving, which further weakens the protection of the land.” He continues.

“So what do we do?” You ask confused.

“Pray, I was going to go to the centre of the village and start praying so that the rain falls tomorrow, but… I ended up like this.” He says embarrassed.

“Do you think God will really help us?” You question and he's shocked and offended by that question but he holds his composure, “He will. Have faith in him.” He tells you and you nod.

“Since you said you were new, you are free to stay in this house, besides you need to recover as well.” You offer him and his eye widens, “I can't, you've already done too much for me.” He refuses but you shake your head, “It's alright aemond, I was starting to stray from the path of God due to the recent problems, but after meeting you, I'm somehow comforted that everything will be alright, a feeling which I haven't felt since the start of the drought.” You admit honestly and he stares at you in awe.

And so you let him stay in your house.

You and Aemond have gotten undoubtedly closer, realising how you both held the same values and opinions, you helped Aemond spread the word of God and soon just like he said, the rain fell and the land began to recover.

You both were currently looking outside the window as the gentle drizzle of rain fell elegantly outside, making the lush greenery of the trees stand out and the smell of wet mud provided a deep comfort to your soul.

“You were right, Aemond.” You smiled at him and he smiled back, using his angelic powers in his human body exhausts him out, especially since the body of the human is so frail and weak, so he often has to recover in your house, but you just thought that it was because of dehydration like the first time.

You looked outside in awe, meanwhile Aemond stared at you instead, your face extremely beautiful as if you had been specially crafted by God himself, your eyes shone as brightly as the stars in the night sky and your hair that cascaded down your back like a waterfall. He couldn't stop admiring you.

He watched as your lips parted when you let out a satisfied sigh, wondering how they'd taste, would they be sweet as they look? He wanted to taste you.

His eye widened in realisation at his own behaviour and thoughts, mind spiralling down a hole knowing that he shouldn't be thinking this way, his closed his eye and took a deep breath, trying to push off all the feelings away but when he opened his eye back again, he was faced with you who looked at him ever so concerningly.

The warm feeling in his heart only growing stronger each and every moment. “Aemond? Is everything alright?” You ask and he nods, “Yeah everything is fine, it's just..” ‘I wanna kiss you.’ He wants to say it so badly, “I just feel under the weather.” He lies.

He lied.

Aemond never lied.

You find it odd but brush it off and leave the matter at that, focusing on the rain outside once again watching as the droplets trailed down the window.

Aemond feels hot on the inside, a burning sensation of itchiness that urges to be scratched, he excuses himself and goes into the bedroom, saying he needs rest, once again, a lie, he shuts the door to the room and you're left alone in the living space.

Deciding not to think much, you began cooking lunch, making soup for the hundredth time.

Aemond leans against the door, breathing heavily as his body grows hotter and hotter every moment, there's a weird sensation between his legs that makes it hard for him to focus on anything else, he looks at the bulge in his pants and touches it, wincing at the electricity that shoots through him.

It's painful.

He knows that whatever he's feeling is wrong.

But it's too painful to bear.

He closes his eyes trying to collect himself but he cannot contain himself, and so he slowly grabs the bulge giving it slight squeezes for it to stop the feeling but not enough to make it go away.

Why is the human body like this?

Why couldn't he control his desires like he did when he was in his angel form?

He slowly pushed his hand down the material of the breeches and held his cock, he grips it which makes him choke out a moan at the sensation.

It felt good.

And so he slowly starts stroking it up and down, curiously experimenting by brushing his thumb against the tip which causes him to whimper, he clasps his own mouth shut at the noise he made but doesn't stop stroking himself.

Muffled noises of soft moans fill the room as he touches himself wondering why the feeling isn't going away, he strokes himself faster which causes him to throw his head back against the door with a loud thud.

“... Aemond?” Your voice makes him stop all of his movements, “Y-yeah?” He replies, trying to sound normal, “I'm making soup, is that okay?” You inquired for his opinion and he replied a choked “Yes.”

He hears your footsteps walk away from the door and he continues to stroke himself, the memory of you calling out his name doing wonders to his imagination as he pictures you moaning his name beneath him, he rubs himself faster, grip tightening on his cock envisioning that he's fucking into your cunt instead of his own hand.

And before he can comprehend the imagery; he feels an immense amount of pleasure shoot through his entire body, making him see white and let out a loud muffled moan of your name o as he feels the wet liquid spurt out of his cock and onto his hand.

He's trembling by the time he's done, looking down at his now unclean hand, white liquid dripping down his palm, the situation of what he had done weighing heavily upon him, the feeling of dread seeping into his body- and so he lets out a soft sigh.

What has he done?

He quickly finds a cloth to wipe himself off and uses the water in the bowl beside the table to wash his hands, he sees his own reflection in the water, feeling disgusted at what he had done.

But it felt so good.

He quickly leaves the room to find you crouching down, tending to the fire as you prepare the soup on top of the heated slab. “Need help?” He asks and you flinch, looking at him with a flushed face, “Hm? O-Oh no need.” You look away quickly. He frowns wondering what happened, you stand up and reassure him that nothing has happened and push him towards the table to sit down. You slightly rub your thighs to ease the tension between them.

You couldn't focus; After all- you just overheard what he did inside the room, the muffled moans, the strokes, and when he called out your name. You heard it all.

The wooden doors aren't really good at covering noises.

A few days passed by quickly after that, the town began to see changes as the crops began sprouting quickly, and soon Aemond's mission was finally completed. Which meant he had to return to the heavens.

But he did not want to.

He actually feels guilty returning to heaven after what he did with his human body.

He was slowly putting his clothes away, ‘packing’ to leave when the door opens which reveals you. Your eyes glance over to the sack of clothes and you quickly realise what's happening.

“You're leaving.” It wasn't a question, but rather a statement which leaves your lips weighed heavily with sadness. Aemond felt something inside him crack as he looked at your solemn expression.

“I have something I want to confess before I leave.” He speaks up and your eyes glint with hope, wondering if he'll confess his feelings to you finally- “I'm an angel.”

…

…

“Aemond, now isn't the time to be joking.” You furrow your brows but he shakes his head, coming closer to you and holding your hand, “I am not, I came here on a mission to solve humanity's problems and now I have to return to the heavens.” He can't stop speaking, no matter how much the voice inside him tells him that he shouldn't be revealing his true identity to humans. “Aemond, this is not funny-”

“I'm not trying to be funny, I am not lying, here I'll prove it to you.” He lets go of your hand, and moves to the window, and your eyes widen as the sudden sunny weather darkens and rain begins to fall.

You shall not reveal your identity.

You shall not flaunt your powers.

“Is that enough for you to believe me?” He asks and you're shocked, “Are you really..?” You question and he nods. The air shifts and you realise that you're in a heavenly presence which makes you scared- “Be not afraid.” He tells you and your breath hitches in your throat.

He moves closer to you again, caressing your cheek, “I'm telling you all this because- I don't know, I don't want to leave you behind.” He admits truthfully. “But if you're an angel, then we can’t-” You try to speak, but he cuts you off, “I know.”

“Truth be told, I have no idea what it is about you that made me hold such feelings towards you, but all I know is that I want you, I desire you, I need you.” He grips your shoulders, hands digging into your flesh.

You must not seek out a human.

You must not engage in worldly pleasures.

The atmosphere is filled with silence and tension as you look down, unable to form a sentence as your thoughts feel too complicated to process and Aemond just stares at you.

‘Do it.’ he hears a voice at the back of his head.

‘You want her, so do it.’ It encourages him.

‘If you want her, you must claim her.’ It's evil.

‘But I have to return to the heavens.’

‘Will you truly be happy in heaven?’

‘I'm not sure.’

‘Without her? Will you be able to continue to live without her?’

‘I do not know..’

‘If you do not claim her, she will fall in love with another mortal man, will you be able to stand it? Watch down from the heavens with the realisation that she was never yours?’

‘But I must not, I will soil myself, I do not want to give into the worldly pleasures.’

‘Hah, you're a fool, do as you wish, just remember that once you leave, she will never be yours, she will belong to another man.’

‘Stop.’

‘-She will be touched by another man, kissed, caressed, hugged, all the things you want to do to her'

‘Stop.’ Aemond tries resisting the anger that fills him when he imagines another man touching you.

‘She will get fucked by another man, and you'll watch it happen.’

“That's enough!” Aemond screams which startles you, “Aemond?” He looks at you, and your eyes widen when you realise something in his eye has changed, his pupil resembles that of a reptile. “What's wrong—” You're cut off from your words as he presses his lips against you, electricity courses through your body when you feel his soft lips against yours.

His lips move messily against yours, and he tastes just like honey, you try to resist wanting to tell him that this is wrong, and rationalise that he'll be cast out from heaven if he engages in intimacy with you but you aren't able to form coherent words because of the way he's constantly cutting you off with messy kisses.

“I want you, I need you, I can't let you be with any other man other than me.”

You're conflicted on whether you should encourage this but you remain silent, and aemond takes your silence as an agreement, he slowly slides off his robes and fully shows himself naked in front of you.

He's working on your clothes next, pulling them off you in swift motions before you're left standing bare just like him, he cups your cheek and tilts your face towards him, “Aemond… you'll be punished.” Your voice is laced with concern. “Look at you.. Always concerned for me, it doesn't matter anymore, I've made up my mind.” He pushes you towards the bed and onto it before climbing on top of you.

He places the soft pillow below your head for comfort before he trails soft kisses on your face, down to your neck, breasts and stomach.

“Beautiful, my beautiful lady.” He mutters against your skin, pecking and pulling it between his teeth. “Your body is so beautiful, your frame, everything about it is so beautiful.” He praises peppering kisses being placed on your breasts. He watches in awe as your nipples harden and poke up, and so he wets his lips before opening them and taking your nipple into his mouth, sighing softly in satisfaction.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, playing with the bud and flicking it up and down, the suckling noises that leave his mouth are sinful that makes you wet down there, you grind up against him to feel at ease.

The room begins to get hot and your small gasps and whines fill the air, accompanied by his grunts of satisfaction, that he finally got to touch you like this. He leaves your breast with a pop before focusing his attention onto the other one. “Aemond…” You wail and he looks at you, “... need you down here.” Those words leave your mouth unexpectedly as you rub your clit and he immediately listens to you letting go of your breast.

He travels down until he's directly faced with your cunt, he watches in amusement as your essence drips out of your hold which he licks up and brings up to your clit and suckles on it. “Hggnh!” You arch your back in pleasure as you feel tingles all over your body, your cunt pulsing around nothing when you feel his tongue play with your clit.

He nibbles on your clit, his teeth slightly poking it which makes slight pain shoot up your body. His tongue moves up and down, from your hole to your clit, he sucks on the flaps of your cunt harshly that causes you to whimper.

You feel his finger prodding at your opening before he slowly pushed it inside, “Fuck Aemond!” You let out a whine when you felt how his finger was stretching you out whilst his tongue worked magic on your clit.

He slowly pumped his finger in and out, letting you adjust to it before pushing another one inside which made you shriek but he hushed you with a kiss to your clit, and soon enough- the slow licking of your bud and the pumping of his fingers made you reach your peak. You clenched your eyes shut at the impact of your orgasm; feeling as if your whole body was set on fire, you saw plain white as your whole body quivered because of him.

He pulls his face away and draws back his finger only for him to put his fingers in his mouth, loving the way you tasted. He climbed upward until he was face to face with you and kissed you, making you taste your essence.

“So beautiful.” He says softly as he sees your dazed expression and messy hair, the way your lips are parted slightly as you take deep breaths.

He couldn't contain himself anymore.

He wasted no time in lining himself against your entrance and slowly pushing inside, you gasped when you felt how big he was, but you didn't stop him but instead held onto his shoulder as he pushed it inside inch by inch.

His hair cascaded around his face, making him look angelic, he closed his eye; gasping for air when he felt you clench around him. The way your walls were wrapped around him drove him insane; he couldn't hold back any longer as something in him cracked, his pace was messy and fast, almost desperate as if he was waiting his entire lifetime for this.

The sound of thrusts echo in the room as he speeds up, your back arches in pleasure when you feel him hit a certain spot inside you, his hands grip your waist as a leverage as he constantly thrusts deep and deeper inside you.

He feels like he is in heaven again, the feeling of you finally being his and how you're squirming underneath him, moaning his name, not anyone else's.

“You feel so good.” He grunts, “so fucking good— my love.” he places a kiss on your breast, before looking at you once again, your eyes staring directly at him. The sight of you beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist as you try to grind into him, indicating that you want him too makes him go feral.

His thrusts soon become sloppy, he knows he's gonna finish in mere moments, so he angles his thrusts upwards— hitting your sweet spot multiple times— making you see stars when you peak.

He's almost blinded when he feels his orgasm hit him, the intensity of the sensation being way too much to handle, he lets out a loud moan as he slowly rides out his orgasm all the while pumping you full of his seed.

He pulls out moments later and lays down beside you, trying to catch his breath, and you pull him closer for a hug.

Everything goes quiet for a few moments as you both try to recover.

Only for the silence to be broken by Aemond agonising screams.

“Aemond?” You panic not knowing what's happening.

Aemond feels as though his entire body was on fire, and then the flesh on his back distorts as his white angel wings spring out of it, you stand there in awe when you look at them, they're white feathers, but soon that emotion of amusement is replaced by pure horror when you see it be forcefully get ripped apart from his back by an invisible force of nature.

You scream in terror, while Aemond tries to bear the pain, he knew this would happen sooner or later, but he couldn't help but scream as the pain of having his wings ripped apart and pulled from his back is agonising.

Maybe the curse of being God's favourite was real.

And what Aemond is facing right now is God's punishment for trudging the path of temptation.

“Please- it hurts.” Aemond croaks in agony.

You feel helpless, not being able to do anything except watch, you just cradle his face, his hand grips onto yours tightly.

And soon it's done.

You could only watch as tears dripped down from his eye.

His once beautiful angel wings were ripped apart, the feathers all over the room and the only thing that remained of it were the scars of the wound on his back.

The scar that indicates the two wings were pulled out.

An angel without wings.

A fallen angel.

— !  ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

[just-ornstein]

[JK]  My first job was as an Assistant Producer for a video game company called Interplay in Irvine, CA. I had recently graduated from Boston University's School of Fine Arts with an MFA in Directing (I started out as a theatre nerd), but also had some limited coding experience and a passion for computers. It didn't look like I'd be able to make a living directing plays, so I decided to combine entertainment and technology (before it was cool!) and pitched myself to Brian Fargo, Interplay's CEO. He gave me my first break. I packed up and moved out west, and I've been producing games ever since.

[JK] I loved my time at EA. I was there for almost a full decade, and learned a tremendous amount about game-making, and met the most talented and driven people, who I remain in touch with today. EA gave me many opportunities, and never stopped betting on me. I worked on The Sims for nearly 5 years, and then afterwards, I worked on console action games as part of the Visceral studio. I was the Creative Director for the 2007 game "The Simpsons", and was the Executive Producer and Creative Director for the 2009 game "Dante's Inferno".

[JK] I haven't played in a long while, but I do recall that after the game shipped, my wife and I played the retail version for some time -- we created ourselves, and experimented with having a baby ahead of the actual birth of our son (in 2007). Even though I'd been part of the development team, and understood deeply how the simulation worked, I was still continually surprised at how "real" our Sims felt, and how accurate their responses were to having a baby in the house. It really felt like "us"!

Now for some of the development and lore related questions:

[JK] So I ended up in the incredibly fortunate position of creating the shipping neighborhoods for The Sims 2, and recruiting a few teammates to help me as we went along. 

Around the same time, we started using the Buy/Build tools to make houses we could save, and also bring them into each new build of the game (correcting for any bugs and incompatibilities). With the import tool, we could load Sims into these houses. In time, this "vanguard QA" process turned into a creative endeavor to define the "saved state" of the neighborhoods we would actually end up shipping with the game.

On playtesting & the leftover sims data on various lots:

Basically, we were in the late stages of development, and the Save Game functionality wasn't quite working. In order to test the game properly, you really needed to have a lot of assets, and a lot of Sims with histories (as if you'd been playing them for weeks) to test out everything the game had to offer. So I started defining a set of characters in a spreadsheet, with all their tuning variables, and worked with engineering to create an importer, so that with each new build, I could essentially "load" a kind of massive saved game, and quickly start playing and testing. 

It was fairly organic, and as the game's functionality improved, so did our starter houses and families. 

The thought process behind the creation of the iconic three neighborhoods:

I would not say it was particularly planned out ahead of time. We knew we needed a few saved houses to ship with the game; Sims 1, after all, had the Goth house, and Bob Newbie's house. But there wasn't necessarily a clear direction for what the neighborhood would be for Sims 2. We needed the game to be far enough along, so that the neighborhood could be a proper showcase for all the features in the game. With each new feature that turned alpha, I had a new tool in my toolbox, and I could expand the houses and families I was working on. Once we had the multi-neighborhood functionality, I decided we would not just have 1 starter neighborhood, but 3. With the Aging feature, Memories, a few wacky objects, plus a huge catalog of architectural and decorative content, I felt we had enough material for 3 truly distinct neighborhoods. And we added a couple of people to what became the "Neighborhood Team" around that time.

Later, when we created Strangetown, and eventually Veronaville, I believe we went back and changed Pleasantville to Pleasantview... because I liked the alliteration of "Verona-Ville", and there was no sense in having two "villes". (To this day, by the way, I still don't know whether to capitalize the "V" -- this was hotly debated at the time!)

Pleasantview:

Anyway, to answer your question, we of course started with Pleasantview. As I recall, we were not quite committed to multiple neighborhoods at first, and I think it was called Pleasantville initially, which was kind of a nod to Simsville... but without calling it Simsville, which was a little too on the nose. (There had also been an ill-fated game in development at Maxis at the time, called SimsVille, which was cancelled.) It's been suggested that Pleasantville referred to the movie, but I don't think I ever saw that movie, and we just felt that Pleasantville kind of captured the feeling of the game, and the relaxing, simple, idyllic world of the Sims.

Pleasantview started as a place to capture the aging feature, which was all new to The Sims 2. We knew we had toddlers, teens, and elders to play with, so we started making families that reflected the various stages of family life: the single mom with 3 young kids, the parents with two teens, the old rich guy with two young gold-diggers, etc. We also had a much greater variety of ethnicity to play with than Sims 1, and we had all new variables like sexual orientation and memories. All these things made for rich fodder for a great diversity of families. Then, once we had family trees, and tombstones that carried the actual data for the dead Sims, the doors really blew open. We started asking ourselves, "What if Bella and Mortimer Goth could be characters in Sims 2, but aged 25 years? And what if Cassandra is grown up? And what if Bella is actually missing, and that could be a fun mystery hanging over the whole game?" And then finally the "Big Life Moments" went into the game -- like weddings and birthdays -- and we could sort of tee these up in the Save Game, so that they would happen within the first few minutes of playing the families. This served both as a tutorial for the features, but also a great story-telling device.

Anyway, it all just flowed from there, as we started creating connections between families, relationships, histories, family trees, and stories that we could weave into the game, using only the simulation features that were available to us. It was a really fun and creative time, and we wrote all of the lore of Sims 2 within a couple of months, and then just brought it to life in the game.

Strangetown:

Strangetown was kind of a no-brainer. We needed an alternate neighborhood for all the paranormal stuff the Sims was known for: alien abduction, male pregnancy, science experiments, ghosts, etc. We had the desert terrain, which created a nice contrast to the lush Pleasantville, and gave it an obvious Area 51 vibe.

The fact that Veronaville is the oldest file probably reflects the fact that it was finished first, not that it was started first. That's my guess anyway. It was the simplest neighborhood, in many ways, and didn't have as much complexity in terms of features like staged big life moments, getting the abduction timing right, the alien DNA thing (which I think was somewhat buggy up until the end), etc.  So it's possible that we simply had Veronaville "in the can", while we put the last polish on Pleasantville (which was the first and most important neighborhood, in terms of making a good impression) and Strangeville (which was tricky technically).

Veronaville:

But my personal favorite was Veronaville. We had this cool Tudor style collection in the Build mode catalog, and I wanted to ship some houses that showed off those assets. We also had the teen thing going on in the aging game, plus a lot of romance features, as well as enemies. I have always been a Shakespeare buff since graduate school, so putting all that together, I got the idea that our third neighborhood should be a modern-day telling of the Romeo and Juliet story. It was Montys and Capps (instead of Montagues and Capulets), and it just kind of wrote itself. We had fun creating the past family trees, where everyone had died young because they kept killing each other off in the ongoing vendetta.

[JK] You know, I have never seen The Lone Gunmen, and I don't remember making any kind of direct references with the Strangetown Sims, other than the general Area 51 theme, as you point out. Charles London helped out a lot with naming Sims, and I'm pretty sure we owe "Vidcund" and "Lazlo" to him ... though many team members pitched in creatively. He may have had something in mind, but for me, I largely went off of very generic and stereotypical ideas when crafting these neighborhoods. I kind of wanted them to be almost "groaners" ... they were meant to be tropes in every sense of the word. And then we snuck in some easter eggs. But largely, we were trying to create a completely original lore.

[JK] Well, I think we kind of pushed it with The Sims 2, to be honest, and I remember getting a little blow-back about Bunny Broke, for example. Bunny Broke was the original name for Brandi Broke. Not everyone found that funny, as I recall, and I can understand that. It must have been changed before we shipped.

We also almost shipped the first outwardly gay Sims in those neighborhoods, which was bold for EA back in 2004. My recollection was that we had set up the Dreamers to be gay (Dirk and Darren), but I'm looking back now and see that's not the case. So I'm either remembering incorrectly (probably) or something changed during development.

In general we just did things that we found funny and clever, and we just pulled from all the tropes of American life.

[JK] The alien abduction started in Sims 1, with a telescope object that was introduced in the "Livin' Large" expansion pack. That's when some of the wackier ideas got introduced into the Sims lore. That pack shipped just before I joined Maxis in 2001; when I got there, the team had shipped "House Party" and was underway on "Hot Date". So I couldn't tell you how the original idea came about, but The Sims had this 50's Americana vibe from the beginning, and UFOs kind of played right into that. So the alien abduction telescope was a no-brainer to bring back in Sims 2. The male pregnancy was a new twist on the Sims 1 telescope thing. It must have been that the new version (Sims 2) gave us the tech and flexibility to have male Sims become pregnant, so while this was turned "off" for the core game, we decided to take advantage of this and make a storyline out of it. I think this really grew out of the fact that we had aliens, and alien DNA, and so it was not complicated to pre-bake a baby that would come out as an alien when born. The idea of a bunch of guys living together, and then one gets abducted, impregnated, and then gives birth to an alien baby ... I mean, I think we just all thought that was hilarious, in a sit-com kind of way. Not sure there was much more to it than that. Everything usually came from the designers discovering ways to tweak and play with the tech, to get to funny outcomes.

[JK] Possibly we were just testing the functionality of the Wants/Fears and Memories systems throughout development, and some stuff got left over.

[JK] I can't remember, but that sounds like something we would have done! I'm pretty sure we laid the groundwork for more stories that we ended up delivering :) But The Sims 2 was a great foundation for a lot of continued lore that followed.

--

I once again want to thank Jonathan Knight for granting me this opportunity and taking the time from his busy schedule to answer my questions.

[ai4nonmarketers]

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[flower-seeks-the-moon]

The Winged Insect and the Funeral Pyre, Chapter 1

fandom: honkai: star rail

relationships: mydei/reader, phainon/reader, mydei/phainon/reader

characters: mydei, phainon, afab reader

rating: explicit

words: 10551

content warnings: smut, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, knotting dildos, vaginal sex

Read on AO3 or below this cut.

Phainon's laugh is light, airy. Disarming, like everything there is to the man. Alarm bells begin to ring in your head, your hand tightening around the teleslate. This is exactly why you find him so troublesome to deal with.

"I need a favor."

"No, you don't," you say. But even then, you're aware that this is futile resistance.

You consider the merits of hanging up on him. Phainon would understand. He isn't a man to put on pressure, not that he's ever needed to. The everyday Okheman looks at him with stars in their eyes. He gets offered freebies all the time; something you're still a little sore over, knowing you've had to haggle most of your life.

Old ladies at the Marmoreal Market adore him more than they like you, and they've known you since you were about the height of their hips.

This man has his pick of the entire lot, so why is he so fixed on you? He is well aware that you're resistant to his brand of charisma, not taken in by the smile that seems to pull down unseen barriers.

Resistant doesn't mean immune. This is unfortunate for you, and everything to bank on for him.

He's too entwined in the minutiae of your everyday life, a river that wore down grooves in stone until they flowed smooth like they have always been there. Whoever else would accompany you to pick ironwort? Patiently sit through disasters of your own creation?

He doesn't even give you the grace to let that refusal settle before he carries on, unhurried. "Mydeimos is in heat." He lets you take in the sharp breath this warrants, then: "But the Council of Elders are staging yet another one of their inane discourses, and I can't…" A helpless laugh. "Lady Aglaea and Castorice deserve a break from those vultures."

Always taking on far too much, this one.

You've always been of the opinion that Phainon is far more dangerous than his companion. This comes in handy, at times like these. It helps to brace yourself for the way his anger, real and not just outbursts of passion, manifests—the chill of someone walking over your grave, given voice. A slow death from a knife in the dark. Or a kettle left to boil for ages, and now too volatile to approach.

How no one sees this, learns to fear it—

Is entirely because of this man's unhealthy emotional repression, your mind supplies. Great.

It's not directed at you, but you shiver all the same. Well, alright then. "He needs the usual infusions and oral medications, then? I've recently made some, so I can swing by and drop them off." Do you remember where they live? You run through your few visits to their place. Officially, the Chrysos Heirs have their own designated quarters at the Marmoreal Palace. This, you know.

But considering Mydeimos's unique circumstances…

You're sure you can still find your way, even on your own.

Belatedly, you add, "You can pay me later."

The tension, it—unwinds, for lack of a better word. A breath held for far too long, released just a beat before the asphyxiation would have set in. Even through the teleslate, you both feel it.

"That would be great," Phainon exhales; despite yourself, you feel your resolve weaken. It seems like the past few days have been rough. "But more to the point. He asked for you."

You nearly drop your teleslate, cursing aloud. Phainon waits until you've finished fumbling with your basket; you've already begun packing the essentials for the trip. "Wait, seriously? Why?"

A hum, stretched out in such a way that you scowl. "Who knows?"

At some point in your lengthy acquaintanceship, you've begun to suspect Phainon does this on purpose. He knows just how much it annoys you. You consider the merits of rejecting him, again, and just as immediately discard it. Mydei, for all that it boggles the mind that the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos is now counted among your few contacts, is too… precious.

Now, that's one word that you wouldn't have described the warrior prince as, considering the man used to be the stuff of tall tales told to Okheman children to ensure they behave. This is before you, one balmy afternoon, saw the good prince crouching—with all the gravitas of someone receiving the highest of accolades, from Lady Aglaea herself—to let some gutsy kid braid flowers into his hair.

His image had never quite recovered in your eyes, since then. Especially when he kept eye contact with you, once he caught you staring. Throughout the entire thing. A Caprist scholar once told you once that lions did that to establish dominance. You didn't understand what it meant until that day. What you don't understand is how in Kephale's name did Mydeimos manage to make the act look endearing and terrifying at the same time.

You can't just, in good conscience, leave him to endure alone. And he would do that, if given half the chance. A quick look at your calendar, and you've got nothing else booked. The Month of Evernight is always on the slow side.

"You owe me a few herb-gathering trips," you murmur, spreading your palm over the materials you've gathered, now lined up neatly on your desk. Infusion of ironwort, bay leaf… topically applied ypericon paste, for soreness and aches. What else? You huff. "And lunch. Preferably something else than dromas steak this time. Even if the Professor isn't due a visit anytime soon."

Your ears still aren't the same after the enlightenment a certain Grove's esteemed sage gave you, the last time he was about the city, ostensibly to some political function.

Privately, just between you and Phainon, you think Professor Anaxa basks a little too much in the Lady Goldweaver's ire, or her attention. You never understood it—the drive to be the sole object of someone else's undivided focus. It looks exhausting, but if it makes your old professor happy, then who are you to say anything?

The little joke startles a laugh out of Phainon. If his voice is a little less burdened than before, you don't mention it. "Deal. You do know that Mydeimos can solve the problem of lunch for us, don't you?"

-----

A quint past Parting Hour, you manage to find the right house.

Mydeimos's scent hits you with the full force of a stampeding dromas. Considering the incidents Phainon dragged you into back in the good old days as the Grove's students, you have first-hand experience. This might just be more life-threatening than the dromas. Fuck. You choke on a lungful of saffron and honey, earthy and sweet and far too potent, and make a noise rather like a steaming pot. If panic had a sound, that's you right now.

You nearly smack face-first into his chest. Thankfully for your dignity, or unfortunately for the part of your brain rapidly devolving into chimera-like barking, the good prince catches you by the shoulders before you do.

"Get back inside," you hiss. "If even I can smell you right now, you do know that's dangerous, right?"

He takes a good long while to answer. You catch the sheen of sweat on his brow, the flush to his cheeks, extending to his ears and creeping down his neck. Perhaps it extends even further down, but you're not going there. Nope. Those golden eyes of his, pale warm honey shot through with sunlight, don't quite look as sharp as they usually do. He's less oh fuck, a big predatory cat is looking at you and more who put the big cat on the Grove's 'meditational' herbs? right now.

Concerning.

"Relax. I'm the most dangerous thing out here," he says, and well. You can't even refute this. "Why are you wearing your ex-lover's robes right now, and at our doorstep?"

You give this question the bewilderment it deserves, when you realize just who you're dealing with. Possessive bastards. Phainon wouldn't take well to traces of another alpha, no matter how faint, in their residence—especially now that his mate is in heat. And Mydeimos is Mydeimos.

Rubbing the back of your neck, more than a little sheepish, you mumble, "… My bad? I can change out of it. When you get back inside. Please."

He gives you another long, narrow look, then lets go of your shoulders. The faint sourness lingering along the edges of his scent lightens, your only reliable indicator for Mydeimos's moods. "I'm preparing dinner. It might just be the two of us, he hasn't told me how long the meeting will last."

Almost imperceptible, you exhale in relief.

Unlike Phainon, who's a flighty bastard with his words—but wearing that bleeding heart of his on his sleeve—Mydeimos is the inverse. He has bearing of a king, unclaimed though his throne may be. You haven't even known the guy for as long as Phainon has, but it's easy to tell that the life he led before Okhema was not an easy one. He bears his pain well. A crown on his brow, carved of a thousand years of legacy and expectations, his hands bound with the chains of fate. Head held high, through it all.

Oftentimes, you forget just how the two Chrysos Heirs are closer to myth than men.

You shake yourself out of a stupor, stepping in as soon as Mydeimos moves back to let you in. When the door slides shut, you feel the tension bleed out of your shoulders and take in your surroundings. Mydeimos stalks off towards the bedrooms, leaving you to your own devices.

Unlike their more luxurious Marmoreal Palace quarters, this private home is cozier than it has any right to be. Located close by the market, it's supposed to be a refuge for the two, away from the central hub of nearly all social activity in Okhema. It lacks the fine amenities that the palace offers, but makes up for it in the way their personalities have room to breathe and just be in the limited space. And perhaps that's on purpose.

The hideous rug you tried to convince Phainon not to buy is still the proud centerpiece of the living room, dromas-patterned embroidery and all. You've grown begrudgingly fond of it, despite how the purple clashes against the cheery yellow curtains framing the large windows. Atop the low table, you spot a half-eaten pomegranate. A book, open midway, one of the pages dog-eared. You recognize it as one of Phainon's poetry anthologies. And last, a cup of goat's milk, close by, glinting with moisture at the rim.

At least Mydeimos is staying fed and hydrated, unlike some omegas you know whenever the heats begin. 30% training, 70% diet indeed.

You've only just lowered your woven basket onto the kline, when Mydeimos comes back. Before you could say anything, your vision is blocked by a loose red fabric. Saffron and honey, thick enough that you could drown in it. And so intoxicatingly sweet. He's not always this overwhelming, but you figure it has to do with his heat.

Your mouth waters, but you manage to speak. "Okay, let me get changed."

Titans, but he must be awful aware of how Phainon doesn't like the scent of strange alphas in their safe space. These subtleties pass you by sometimes, considering you've never had to worry about it as a beta.

Grabbing his spare robe, you yank it off your head and trudge off towards the guest bedroom.

The guest bedroom is the same as the last time you were in it. Someone, likely Mydeimos, kept it pristine. Perhaps Castorice recently visited. One of your peplos, that pretty lavender one you forgot last time, lies neatly folded atop the bed. It smells like the soap they use to launder their own clothes, a clean scent that speaks of domesticity suiting two men who aren't destined for it. Or made for it, yet they managed against all odds to find this little slice of Era Chrysea.

You ignore the strange warm flush this sends through you, and change into the clothing your host offered you. At this point, it would just be rude to refuse it.

When you've finished changing garments, you're left with an interesting conundrum. If you could call it that.

Mydeimos's robe is made for a man of his bulk and height. That is, a man who is nearly twice your size. You're engulfed in the red fabric, almost swimming in it, when you emerge from the guestroom. And judging by the way he stares, you're even more self-aware of how ridiculous you look.

Feeling helpless, you decide to focus on what you came here to do. "Experiencing any aches yet? Nausea? I brought my kit for you."

He exhales, a lion's chuff. You focus on the subtle weariness you catch loosening the set of his jaw. "It's bearable."

You're an optimistic person, by nature. You tell yourself that this is a great improvement from the first time Phainon implored you to be their personal apothecary. Back then, Mydeimos would have told you something like, "Think nothing of it. It's unnecessary." And it wouldn't have been some asinine bravado talking, either, like with the few Kremnoan soldiers you've had the misfortune to treat. Those people with something to prove are always a pain to take care of. With Mydeimos, he speaks the plain truth.

Or 'truth' however he perceives it, anyway.

It took you and Phainon a long time to work on this trait of his—how it's a basic right for every human to be free of pain and discomfort, if they ask for it. That's what Lotophagists would espouse, anyway. Well, you try. It's really above your paygrade, playing therapist to a Chrysos Heir. They could have asked that Twilight Courtyard fellow of theirs, but Phainon insisted on you.

Perhaps it was awkward to ask a comrade for that, and less if it's an old schoolmate.

The silence stretches on, as it does whenever there's no Phainon to fill it. And it's not heavy, no. Mydeimos is gentle, even if his softness is hard-won after lifetimes of violence. More honest, simply because of the price it took to earn it. His gaze doesn't pierce into you, not after you've known each other this long, and you've seen him at some of his awkward moments.

"What did you make tonight?" You break it first, falling into step beside him as you both make way for the kitchen.

Out the corner of your eye, you spot the faint curve tugging at the edge of his lips. It seems that this question of yours has evoked amusement from the taciturn man.

"Epityrum, with fresh bread," he murmurs. You try not to stare; you find it hard not to, considering the way his face transforms when he talks about cooking. It's one of the few times you get the sense that his pride in himself is genuine, and not just the quiet self-assurance that comes with his skill in all areas of warfare. Despite the red dusting across his cheeks, the discomfort that he must surely be feeling as his heat symptoms progress, Mydeimos looks radiant.

It's easy to see why your old classmate would go to war for this man, even in areas he isn't always comfortable in. Such as the political arena, when the Kremnoan detachment first joined the city.

The prince's near-imperceptible smile widens. "And honey-glazed mushrooms."

His sweet tooth is in full effect today, it seems. As it does whenever his heat comes, and the edges of him soften enough, allowing him to indulge.

You brighten, latching on to the familiar topic. "You tried the recipe I sent you?"

"The very same," he agrees, nudging you with a warm hand between your shoulderblades. You step into the kitchen with him, instead of hesitating at the threshold as you would have, years ago. "I adjusted a few things to taste, but I expect that you will enjoy it."

The two of you settle into a familiar routine—if it could be called that, since you've only been here a few times a year. You don't think too deeply on it, grabbing the plates and cutlery as he prepares to serve dinner for two.

Phainon and Mydeimos prefer to dine in the kitchen, where there is a small table and three stools. This makes setting up relatively unfussy, a far cry from the designated dining areas at the palace, with all those reclining couches and the enforced segregation between alphas and omegas. Your mother would call it improper, but this suits you much better.

"How has work been, lately?" Halfway into your dinner, after he's seen you relish his food with satisfaction simmering in his eyes, Mydeimos leans back and watches you.

The question has you stiffening, fingers seizing for a fraction of a heartbeat. You force yourself to relax. "Same as ever. Slow and steady, unless there's the rare emergency."

A part of you wonders why he even asks, knowing you're more of an apothecary for ails that aren't life-threatening. You tend more to persistent aches and sprains. Headaches and indigestion, insomnia and anxiety. Things that make the average Okheman's idyllic daily lives inconvenient, which just wouldn't do in this lovely city's idea of perfection.

You are not the physician people would go to when it comes to serious illnesses. That is more the purview of the outsourced members of the Twilight Courtyard, the one or two usually assigned here. But you do have the credentials to work, if such esteemed people are too booked to take on more patients.

"You don't look well-rested," Mydeimos cuts to the heart of the matter, the way he always does. He's careful about it, but he doesn't hesitate.

Your smile comes out as more of a grimace. "Aidonians," you say simply, vindicated by his answering frown.

Rivaling the Kremnoans in difficulty as patients, the Aidonians are similar in a sense. A gentle fatalism, in the way they embrace death's inevitability. The recent outbreak of the flu is particularly… troubling. Despite the advancements in medicine at the Grove, a particular minority in Okhema still refuses to get innoculated against the common illness. Which can be surprisingly deadly, for children and the elderly.

Shaking your head, you shove more mushrooms in your mouth. He recognizes an end to the topic when he sees it; you recognize when he's choosing to let it go. For now.

A swallow later, you keep your tone light as you ask, "You adjusted the garum, didn't you? It's a little less…" You lick your lips, trying to pinpoint the change. "Salty."

Mydeimos tilts toward you, a faint upwards crease at the corners of his eyes. You take your victories wherever you can. "Good tastebuds." His scent thickens, deepens until the saffron crocus and wild honey flowers with the lactonic scent of full-bodied milk. You feel your stomach lurch, and grab the cup of pomegranate juice he has so graciously set aside for you. Just a fortifying sip, you tell yourself.

The distinct feeling of being lead, chased into a trap, whispers to the quiet corners of your mind.

You shake it off, to be unpacked later, and accept the goat's milk when Mydeimos pours it into your cup.

-----

On the whole, you're cognizant enough to know that your presence is not exactly… essential, despite Mydei asking for you.

He's the most self-efficient omega that you have ever seen. This isn't your first time, substituting as a heatmate to an omega. But with his self-preparation so impeccable, does he even need you?

As the evening lengthens, Phainon's absence felt yet unacknowledged, the two of you busy yourselves with cleaning house. You insist on clearing the table and washing the dishes, nudging him into the bath. This is the sole 'luxury' that the couple gives themselves in the privacy of their second home. Most middle to upper-class Okhemans converge at the Marmoreal Palace for their daily cleansing, yet Phainon has insisted on letting his partner have a safe haven.

Steam rises from the basin, which is enough for two men of their sizes to fit into comfortably enough. You avert your gaze as Mydeimos disrobes, far too aware of the rustle of his clothing.

When he calls your name, you force yourself to maintain eye contact. It's not the best decision, as he undoes his braid and drags fingers through his sunset hair. He looks at you, honeyed eyes unreadable, and curls a hand around your forearm. It's all you can do to stay still when he leans in, nose pressing into the junction of your wrist. He breathes in, rubs his face against it like an overgrown cat. You think you hear a quiet huff, warmth against your skin almost like the steam that's clinging to your hair and clothes by now.

He likes his little treats, Phainon once told you. Mydei prefers to savor, instead of devouring everything all at once. He didn't get a lot of chances to do that, before Okhema. Before me.

It seems to extend to how he draws out his heats. The need for scenting, marking something, doled out so carefully like the delicate way he takes bites out of his desserts.

Betas typically don't smell like anything, which is part of why they're such popular thirds or heatmates to established couples. They don't leave traces, no indelible stains on the storied pages of true love matches between alphas and omegas. Easy to slip in and out, without consequence.

You've been told that you smell like larkspurs—that is, almost nothing, which is the story of your life at this point. Tabula rasa, as Professor Anaxagoras would say, waving his hands around and impressing you and Phainon until you remember that Lady Hyacine probably dosed his tea again with a calming draught. You are convenient empty slate where others can leave their traces, even if those don't last.

And you enjoy it that way. Being the sole central figure of anyone's life is too much of a burden on your shoulders. You can hardly stay afloat most days.

When he's satisfied nuzzling all over your wrist, Mydeimos pulls back. Your pulse thunders in your ears; you wonder if he felt it against his mouth, pressed so tight against it as he was. You stand there, waiting to see if he needs anything else more. A flicker of something approaching disappointment bleeds through his gaze, fast enough that you can dismiss it as just your imagination.

With light (strained whisper-thin) laughter, you reach for his hand and press his wrist against your neck.

Beta scent glands are so ineffectual, the Grove has papers debating on whether or not to consider them a vestigial feature. What little scent there is could hardly be considered enough to form the scent-bonding that omegas and alphas are able to bind each other with. You consider this ritual—scenting a beta—to be a mere placebo, meant to soothe the omegas who share their heats with you, like giving a teething toy to a fretting babe.

Likening the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos to a needy child doesn't do any wonders for your sanity, so you decide to leave your train of thought at that.

You expect him to be mollified, after a few swipes of the inside of his wrist against your neck to smear his scent along your skin. As you feel the tension begin to bleed out of him, you start to let go of his hand and step away.

He steps towards you. Mydeimos doesn't retract his wrist.

Your neck feels hot enough, already. You stumble against the archway, nervous titter in your throat, the heavy press of his skin against yours. Heart a trapped bird inside your ribcage. But you don't fly, you don't flee. Why is that?

"… Something wrong with the way I smell?" You took a bath today, but the heavy petting—the aggressive, if ineffectual scenting—is almost enough to make you feel embarrassed for both yourself and Mydeimos.

It's his turn to act like he's caught: Mydeimos's hand stills mid-air, and you think you see the ruddy flush staining his skin deepen. His heat symptoms are progressing rapidly... Impaired judgement? He clears his throat, reaching to rub the back of his own neck. "No, you smell fine."

Interesting emphasis on the no part. You raise a brow at that, and he looks near-chastised as he could possibly be.

He looks at you, pained, that familiar soured-milk scent at the edges of the usual spiced-sweetness. "Your robe earlier. They left a trace."

Heightened sensitivity to intruding alphas. Of course.

"Phew, okay. I'll make sure to wash that one thoroughly, next time." You're almost embarrassed that you missed that. "Valerian root tea while you bathe, then. I'll even throw in some honey," you add, a playful lilt to your voice as you spy his exasperated scowl, though it's soft at the edges. It makes you want to spoil him, which is as dangerous a thought as any.

Phainon owes you, after this. You're going to milk that man within an inch of his life.

The disgruntled prince slips into the bath without much more fussing, and you retreat to the kitchen to clean up. As soon as you get a space to yourself, you press your palms to your face. The skin is clammy with sweat. You can't tell if it's from your palms, or if you sweated earlier.

Maybe it's the steam.

This isn't your first time being a heatmate. It's just awkward, you tell yourself, to do this with your old schoolmate from the Grove. Even more so, when he and his partner are the two foremost Chrysos Heirs. They lead the charge against the black tide, an undertaking far too large and far too important for someone like you.

You're just—A bit overwhelmed. That's all. But you knew it was coming, back when Phainon asked you to be their personal apothecary.

Just business. A transaction between old friends.

-----

A quint before Curtain-Fall hour, and you two have done all you could to while the wait away.

There's no sign of Phainon coming home, not anytime soon. You snuck glances at your teleslate earlier, pinched and worried looks at Mydei as he begins to look more and more… frazzled. As close to it as he could be, you don't think you've ever seen the prince worry and gnaw at his bottom lip like this before. The fullness of his scent makes it hard to speak around the honey sweetness coating your throat. He's a particularly potent omega—the type whose very presence seems to carve out space for himself, no matter the place.

Even the most nose-blind betas would sit up and pay attention.

You're also an apothecary trained to have a keener nose, it helps with your job. At the moment, it certainly doesn't feel like it's making it any easier.

Watching him wear the skin of his bottom lip down, a faint glint of gold at the corner, you finally crack. He's been sneaking looks at you, hands twitching as if to reach out, then retracting them again. They curl into fists against the edges of the kline he's reclining on. Before he could mangle his lip further, you stand up and make the short distance to him. He stiffens, caught, as you push a thumb between his lips.

The tip of your thumb catches at his canine. "Stop it," you murmur, your knee resting on the side of his kline and pressed against his thigh. With a sigh, you press your forehead against his. He's near-scaldingly hot—had he been any normal person, you'd consider him mildly addled by fever. Alas, Chrysos Heirs and their unique biology, made even more convoluted by being alphas or omegas.

"You've been very restrained and respectful," you tell him. Mydeimos has either forgotten how to breathe, or you're staring into the lion's maw, and all the academic honors you got during your time at the Grove were for nothing. Just like that one time when you tried to insert your hand into a Verax Leo's mouth. On a dare from Phainon.

It all comes back around to that man; you know that even Mydeimos has been roped into these inane stunts. You've seen it.

At this point, you wonder if Aquila's the limit. They haven't considered testing to see who'll pass out first at the hottest bath in the palace yet, but it's only a matter of time.

Speaking of. You don't know when Mydeimos will bite down, so you hasten to continue.

You grin. "I appreciate it, Mydeimos. But you don't have to." While he soaked in the bath, valerian root tea service as promised, you had given yourself a pep talk. It's a skill you mastered after nights with bloodshot eyes as you, Phainon, and Castorice hurried to finish your papers to the threat of Professor Anaxagoras giving everyone a failing mark. You can do this with your eyes closed.

He stares at you, caught between uncertainty and the need lurking behind the tempered amber of his gaze. Neither of you are fools—if Phainon doesn't return until the early Entry Hour, Mydeimos is in for an unpleasant time. You're here, a warm body to paw at, even if you lack the necessary equipment to give him a satisfying knot. And they're literally compensating you for your time.

"You asked for me, didn't you?" Your breath gently mingles with his as you settle closer, finding the firm cushion of his muscled thighs surprisingly… comfortable. It's not your first time wondering why he always has to hide them under those shiny greaves of his, Phainon emphatically agreeing; considering they're partners, maybe he's a little biased.

Didn't he recently nominate his partner for Most Beautiful Face of Amphoreus? Why did no one but you notice that letting him vote was enabling his bias, there?

Your fingertips brush the edge of his jaw, feeling it tense. "Phai already promised me lunch, don't worry about it."

The heat of his hand sends you near leaping off his lap when you feel it rest on the small of your back. "You refer to him as Phai," he begins, and you go still at the lowered timbre of his voice; is it truly such a sore spot, for him to sound like this? "And yet you insist on never calling me by Mydei. Care to explain why?"

"No particular reason?" You don't understand why this is a particular sticking point for him. "Your name just sounds real pretty, rolls off the tongue. Did Phainon never tell you that?" You settle your palm against his chest, perhaps checking for his heart beat, and truly not because you're trying not to look down. Between his eyes and chest, there is nothing on Mydeimos that isn't a hazard to your mental fortitude.

You tilt your head. "… Still, Mydei is pretty too."

… Well, the look on his face now—widened eyes, parted mouth, and ears burning crimson—might be a contender.

Placid and unhurried, absentminded—and confirming that there might be nothing between your ears—you swipe at the sticky gold marring the firmness of his lower lip. It's been bothering you for a while. You think it's healing already, but you check still; you miss (you don't) the sharp intake of breath. When you stick your thumb inside your mouth, it's not the first time you've tasted ichor, no.

The Chrysos Heirs's blood doesn't taste like rust and iron—there's a heady, saccharine quality, almost like brewed ambrosia, and what you can only begin to describe as sunlight gracing your plebeian mortal tastebuds.

Not that trying to describe it like that on one of your joint projects with Phainon had ever helped you get a higher mark, but how else were you to describe it?

"Unbelievable. You truly—" A laugh of disbelief. You're broken out of your distracted reminiscing just to catch the growl rip out of Mydei's chest, vibrating under your palm and jolting you out of your ill-timed tangents. "Are you unaware of what you do to me?"

You give him a flash of teeth, a quicksilver grin. "That's your heat talking, friend, so let's get started." You begin to rise from his lap. It's only with another firm press of his hand against your back that your redirection is, once again, stymied. The both of you stare at each other, then your gaze darts to where his arm refuses to budge an inch.

And then you lean in, the soft wet warmth of your mouth against the shell of his ear. "Mydei, do you want me to fuck you or not?"

Up this close, you feel him when he shudders. The satisfaction you get may be bordering on unholy, at this point. Surely this is considered hubris, by some priests—what are you doing to this man, golden-armored and undying Mydeimos, with divinity in his blood and godly strife as his birthright?

Would Phainon take offense and rain down punishment on you, should he return to see the mess you may yet make of Mydei?

(Focus. This isn't about you.)

"Do you want to?" His throat bobs as he swallows. "Fuck me, that is. And not just out of obligation."

You are going to get stoned to death by the masses who worship this man. All because you made him say fuck. It's not that you believe him incapable of it, but despite the brutal image he presents? He's always been more given to measured words.

And then there's that surprising shyness, his sidelong looks like tender buds you need to carefully hold in your garden. Like the flowers you press between your books, to hold on to their startling flashes of beauty for a little while longer. You know for sure, when once you caught Phainon mouthing in his ear and were certain that the silver-haired hero said something obscene, that the furious red flush staining Mydei's face wasn't your mere imagination.

(Why were you even watching them, in the first place?)

He falls back against the kline, heavy breaths loud in the silence as you lean into his neck. Like any good heatmate, you pay attention to his scent gland, nipping at the heated skin. "I wouldn't be here, if I didn't."

Mydei whimpers—a strange, sweet sound, rough and almost pathetic, less great big cat and more kittenish—and your own legs begin to wobble, knees weak until you perch atop of him. A part of you reminds yourself that his nest is just steps away, that the two of you should make it there. He deserves to be knotted and sated in the comfort of their bedroom, where he could be surrounded in the scent of his absent mate.

But the two of you prove more distracted than you should be. He throws his head back against the incline of the sofa, hips bucking up and rocking you forwards as you suck dark, motley bruises against the apple of his throat and along his scent glands. A large hand tangles in your hair, and you can't help making some mewling noise in return.

"… Get up here," he rasps; exhaling, fractured, the syllables of your name. His other hand plants itself on your hip, dragging you up the span of his body with no more strain than it takes for you to pick up parchment. The juxtaposition between that effortless strength and the needy, faint gasps he's letting escape has you surging up.

You're slick between your legs, thighs coated in wetness at this point.

There's a brief—moment, of hesitation as he tries to angle you towards a kiss. You don't do this, not with people who ask you to share their heats with you. Scenting is fine, cuddling them in their nests as some safe, easily disposed-of substitute is doable. Knotting them with their fancy toys, putting on a strap if they ask for it? Fine.

But kissing? Kissing implies taking a part of them inside your mouth, it feels almost like cannibalism and the Lotophagist in you just screams about how parts of that person will live on inside you, Mnestia's golden nymphs making a home in Cerces's unmoving wooden body, desperately seeking a long lost haven in unresponsive crevices—

You're desirable because you leave no traces on them. Why should you let them leave parts of themselves inside of you?

"I can hear you overthinking from here," Mydei's molten gaze holds you captive. He presses down, large hand easily grasping your neck. And the quailing, gnawing, gnashing in your head begins to ebb, blood drawn out along with the poison from a purposeful cut in the skin.

He grounds you with his touch. It would be terrifying, if you aren't so relieved to have a reprieve from the loudness of your mind sometimes.

With steady, easily trackable movements, he draws you in towards him. His lips don't find yours, instead seeking your sweat-slick temple in a feathered kiss. Part of you gives; like soft, overripe fruit bitten into, even the gentlest pressure is your undoing.

"Let's start again," Mydei says, and you nod against his neck. Your breath slows in time with his. "And take our time."

----

The two of you do manage to make it to his nest, after all that.

Unlike the other parts of their home, the curtains are drawn to provide some intimation of night-time. Lamps flicker along one wall, casting a drowsy glow about the place. You're keenly aware of Mydei's gaze on your face, as you take it all in. A large bedframe, clearly a work of exquisite craftsmanship, even if the material is the sturdy, plentiful wood that you can easily find anywhere on Amphoreus. It's still at an incline, as is classic for the klines people sleep on, here in Okhema. Layered on top are piles of soft throw blankets and cushions, all in colors that you expected.

You can see Phainon in the azure hues of the pillowcases, and imagine Mydei seeking his likeness in them, especially now.

A familiar fabric catches your eye, placed on the corner of the bed. "Sorry, it seems I keep forgetting to take them back from here." You pick up the chiton. It's unmistakably yours—you recognize the familiar wear and tear, this is the one you often wore whenever you went herb picking with them, when they had the time to spare.

It seems it's been here long enough that it no longer smells much like you, however. You're unsure what to make of this.

"You don't have to," Mydei says, lowering himself first.

The tension of waiting settles between the two of you, but it's less fraught with nerves unlike before. You follow him, alighting between his thighs like a bird come to roost. The loose, rust-red chiton he's wearing slips off of one sculpted shoulder; your fingers soon chase it, tugging it lower, a titter half-caught like your tongue between your teeth as you hear his anticipatory keening. Those red markings on his skin glint, lit from inside as he makes himself more comfortable.

You both take a deep inhale. It smells of Phainon in here. Of fields of wheat; a sea of rippling flaxen-gold stalks, so dense you could get lost in them. You can see it, if you close your eyes and try hard enough. Past the wheat, there's rich earth, a scent you're so intimately familiar with, as one who tries to grow some of your own herbs and blossoms.

It's a good scent, a reassuring one.

You can imagine flourishing in him, if you're to be reborn as a flower. Roots would grow deep without fear of needing to limit the space they take up.

Mydei moans, plaintive and imploring, as you take your time exploring the lively crimson marks along his body. First, with your fingers, followed by your mouth. He whimpers when you take a detour to focus on his wrists, stimulating the scent glands there until you can taste saffron and honey on your tongue. That's how rich his pheromones have gotten; yet despite the supposed urgency of this, he waits for you with a patience you're not used to.

You flick at his nipple with your index finger, your nail gently scraping along the areola until the peak stiffens.

"Sensitive?"

Instead of saying anything, he arches into your touch. You indulge him, fingers digging into the firm bounty of his chest, mouth latching on to the other one so it doesn't languish in neglect.

When he's winded, already this close to fucked-out just from nibbling and pinching at his tits, you let him off to catch your own breath. You're panting, just a little—not as much as him. His breasts look tender now, the peaks a puffy dark brown, ripe dates glinting with your spit.

Beautiful, you can't stop yourself from thinking any longer. And you can't wait for long, either.

Take your time, you remember Mydei saying. As you watch the quickened rise and fall of his chest, you wonder what to do next.

"Where are your toys?"

It takes him a moment to gather himself, wetness clinging to his lower lashes as he looks back at you. Half-lidded eyes dilated dark with hunger. "On the bed," he says, scarcely dragging his gaze away from you as he reaches into the mass of cushions and blankets. And curses, when he doesn't immediately find it.

You snicker to yourself a bit, and join him on his search.

Mydei sighs at you, eyes narrowing. "He's a horrid influence on you."

"Don't know what you're talking about," you say, with a straight face, as your fingers close around what feels like a girthy, phallic-shaped lump. You fish it out, lips twitching as you behold the nicely molded imitation. It's made of material that feels as close to flesh as it could get—and as warm as skin, like it's self-heating. An expensive toy, and a new one. You have an idea of whose cock it's modeled after. "Did Phainon really get his measurements taken? Pff—"

You find yourself laid flat on your back a moment later, blinking up at him and questioning how it happened.

"You can test it for yourself," Mydei says, an eerie calm despite his heavy breathing. "We can compare notes, when he gets back."

Riveted on the spot, you watch as he undoes the cord holding your borrowed robe together. He peels it off of you with an air of satisfaction, unwrapping you like a gift.

"I've yearned to do that since earlier," he mutters, making your face heat.

He drags a moan out of you when he dips a finger, then two, into your slick entrance, his callouses dragging against your tender folds. You whine, caught between wanting to shut your thighs around his hand and bucking up into his touch. He circles a thumb around your clit, and the decision is then made for you.

Mydei's lips twitch as your cunt parts open for his scissored fingers, eased by the fact that you've been so wet and ready for a while.

"Seems like a good idea, doesn't it?" With his other hand braced beside your head, Mydei watches as you squirm underneath him. Pinned in place by his stare. The gleam of amusement in his eyes doesn't bode well for you. "Try it out for me, before I use it."

He wants you to—fuck yourself? On his toy?

You can't exactly verbalize this. You're too busy trying not to claw at his blankets, his fingers reaching places inside you that your own couldn't reach. "Mydei—" Gasping, short and sharp. He makes curling motions with his fingers, seeking that one sweet spot until you find yourself nearly flying off the bed, stars lighting up in scattered constellations behind your eyelids.

And you don't remember when you closed your eyes, only that the sharp nip of teeth against your neck has them snapping open again.

"Please," you choke out, tightening around his fingers. He purrs against you, soft and pleased, canines catching on your useless scent gland. Seeking what you couldn't give him. What you wouldn't give, to have it. Helpless, you reach up to stroke the back of his head.

Around you, the scent of wheat is almost a taunt. You hope that Phainon can come home soon enough.

Mydei exhales against the crook of your neck, licking and sucking as your fingers thread through his hair. Not a single patch of your throat is left untouched. You feel unmoored by his attentions. Captured, a fire kindling the path along your perspiring skin, sparked by the embers that pass for his eyes.

When he deems you pliant enough from his preparation, you whimper as he pulls out.

"None of that, now." He holds your gaze as he brings his fingers to his mouth. "How does it feel, to be the one being baited?"

"You—" What could he possibly mean? You exhale, shaken, but try to counter. "Well, wouldn't you know that? You're with the boy savior, after all."

A half-smile curves his mouth, transforms it into something sharp, a spearpoint aimed at you. "The Deliverer's tricks? He puts up quite a good chase, I must admit. Gives back as good as he gets, too. You, on the other hand—" He presses the tip of the toy against your slickness, your hips jumping as your folds spread against the flared head.

It's... a larger toy than you would usually choose for yourself.

For a single, aching moment, you don't breathe.

Mydeimos's words feather gently across your lips, catching your wheeze as he works the fake cock further in. "You don't seem to understand how much we want this."

He eases it into your cunt with a murmured reassurance against your temple, the Kremnoan words lost to your hearing. Not that you'd understand, even if you could hear them. Your back bows upwards, thighs trembling with the stretch and burn.

Mydei carves out a space inside you, spearing you taut on a facsimile of his mate's cock.

It's obscene, how you get off on this knowledge. You gush with every plunge, slick dripping onto the sheets below. You're pretty sure you begin babbling, Aidonian curses in response to Mydei's husky praises from his own language.

This is—unprecedented, your fraying resolve tries to remind you. You're the one supposed to be servicing this man, he's supposed to be an omega in heat. But he hasn't acted like the ones you've known before him. He fucks the toy into you in careful strokes, as if he actually spares more than just a passing thought for your pleasure.

You don't last long. As your body begins to seize, lightning sparks of bliss shuddering through your spine, Mydei moves fast. He slips the toy out of your twitching hole—you keen, the edge of climax dancing just inches away, so unfair—and hoists your thighs atop his shoulders.

His lip close around your clit and you yowl. Your thighs lock around his head, every slurp causing them to tighten. He'd probably suffocate, if he was just some lesser man. Instead, you feel him growl into your cunt, almost as if he wants to be choked. He holds you to him as your release splashes, coating his chin as he moves away from your bud to bury his tongue inside your entrance.

Shivering, insensate, wrecked and boneless—you flop back down, caught prey now being savored with the intent to draw it out.

He's supposed to be an omega, you think. You barely twitch as Mydei's tongue drags along your drenched opening, cleaning out every drop of your essence. What have I agreed to?

"… Hand me the toy," you pant, when you've regained enough feeling in your legs. Your thighs still rest on his shoulders, flush to his ears, your knees captive in his grip. You test your limbs, try to move.

Mydei's hands tighten on you, parting your thighs.

He rests his cheek against your mound, regards you with the languid satisfaction of someone who just ate his fill. Depravity in his eyes, enough to drive you insane. But you're here for one reason. Kephale damn him. Who is he fooling? The scent of the crocuses, the honey, his heat is enough to make the nearest alpha bolt to his location.

"It's your turn. Come on."

You truly thought that Phainon was the scary one, but you're beginning to reconsider this years-long knowledge.

It takes a concerning long time before Mydei considers you. When he lets go, you're left with the distinct impression that he's humoring you, and that's just… You're not going to go there.

He reclines back against the bed, beside you, with far too much grace for someone who smells like he's all but begging to be knotted. To be bred. With a raised brow, he hands you the toy he fucked you with.

For a long, long, moment, the both of you stare at each other. You don't know what to do with the way Mydei looks at you. Like there's a truth in your face, if he looks hard enough, that he could pry from between your sealed lips or tease out of your avoidant gazes.

"Lay back," you breathe. With some success, you manage to sit up and get on your knees, nudging his own apart. He sucks in a breath between his teeth as your gaze settles on the apex of his legs, where, as you had suspected, he's leaking. Dripping, the head of his cock near-purple from how long he must have been waiting. His own thighs are similarly drenched, smeared with the slick from his entrance.

You click your tongue as you brace your hand against his stomach. It flexes under you, distracting you for a brief second, before you press the toy—you try not to think of how it's been inside you, mere minutes ago—against his hole.

His face changes, as soon as you breach past his entrance. Pent up, isn't he?

"Ngh," Mydei keens, flinging an arm over his face as his hips jerk up. He grunts as you work the toy inside him, his rim fluttering around the intrusion.

Part of you is tempted to tease him. After the way he utterly dismantled your expectations of this evening, the way he had you melting—like metal in the blacksmith's forges, reshaped in his hands—this sudden coyness, it's something. His eyes like flickering candles, the flames leaping away from your attention? It opens some ravening, hungry pit inside you.

Wreck him, it tells you. Fold him in half and—

But then he makes such a sweet, pleading noise, a tiny whimper caught in the back of his throat. That hungry pit is forgotten, awash in the longing to hold him.

You work the toy inside him, inch by inch, your gaze flickering to his face to take in his reactions. Checking for any signs of discomfort, of pain. But he must be pretty used to taking Phainon's cock.

That immortal body soaks up damage like a sponge. I've tested it myself.

Mydei seems to relax, the more of the toy you push in. Still, you pet his stomach, encouragements flowing like ambrosia from your lips.

"You're doing well," you whisper, the both of you tensing as you bury the toy to the hilt, only the flared base remaining. His arm falls back at your voice, golden eyes wet. "So good, and just for me?"

He exhales a fractured little laugh, strained and yet so warm.

"For you," Mydei agrees, groaning as you bully the toy further against his walls. His eyes grow wide when you twist your wrist just so, spit-slick lips parting on a choked moan. "T-there— please…"

You tilt your head, then push. "Here?"

A thick sob. Your eyes widen at the sound, even as Mydei flings his head back. "There."

"Anything for you," you laugh, more than just a little broken yourself. You focus all your attentions on that one spot, hearing his breath hitch and stutter with every push and twist of your arm. It's almost perfect, almost—and then you remember his neglected cock, the way it twitches with each thrust.

He's dripping so much that there's a little pool of his precome gathering on his stomach.

As you work the toy in and out of his quivering hole, you lower yourself and wrap your free hand around him.

Mydei shouts, caught between a sob and a moan—and you watch, entranced, as more precome froths out of his slit. You notice, now, how he's glistening with sweat, the elaborate red marks along his body glowing with an inner light.

The sculpted muscle of his body ripples with strain as you move, fucking the toy in and out of his hole while you stroke and squeeze his straining cock. And you begin to fuck him in earnest.

All the while, you wonder at the words that fall from his stammering mouth. You wish you'd studied his language, back when you were at the Grove, if only to make sense of the look in his eye as he speaks to you with a voice that could melt Aidonia's frozen landscape.

You notice when he's close, and the words come out before you can stop.

Come for me, Mydeimos—you're doing so good, let me fuck you loose, ready you for taking his knot later. Let me feel you come against my fingers—

He arches, the curve of his back and the dip of his waist holding you bewitched—and comes so hard that he shakes, a sturdy tree battered by gales of wind. You feel sticky warmth, splattering between your fingers and against your palm as he twitches and throbs in your hand. His legs tremble, the muscles in his thighs clenching.

With a flick of your thumb, you press the button at the base of the toy. Mydei mewls as it begins to swell at the base, locking it inside him.

As he shivers through the aftershocks, you straddle his waist. He reaches for you, blindly taking you into his arms, and nuzzles against your neck. Trying to scent you, to leave his mark again. You sigh into his touch, letting him nip and lave at your skin. Indulging his impulse.

When you lean back, cupping his face and pulling him towards you, you don't know who is more surprised. His lips part against yours, caught between a question and an exclamation. Neither of which make their way out. He sighs into the kiss, and you try not to think about how it sounds like relief.

As if he's come home to a face he's long-missed, when he—like you, like Phainon—are people whose homes are filled with more ghosts than there are family members.

You don't think about it.

Instead, you move back a little bit, and titter as he tries to chase after your lips. "Hang on." You lean forward, nip gently at his ear. "You're still hard, aren't you, Mydeimos?"

He gasps at you, like he's witnessing an apotheosis, when you sink down onto his cock. You're too focused on taking him in, inch by inch, to flinch from the way faith paints itself across his face like the sky cloaking itself in the colors of the dawn.

The size of him isn't much different from Phainon's cock, comparing it to the toy. It nudges little gasps from you, half-heartedly bitten back as you grip Mydei's shoulders for purchase.

Your nails digging into his skin tears a snarl from him, low and intent. He draws you towards him again, hand cupping the your nape, holding you against his neck. A part of him seems to understand that this isn't just something you do, for any of your other partners, other omegas that you've bedded as a heatmate.

It feels like admitting defeat, a little like surrender, the way you let him sink inside you.

You're admitting that you want something, when wanting isn't in your nature. It shouldn't be, until Phainon stumbled in on you all those years ago, with your empty stare, ink smudged across your cheek, your dreams in the tattered parchment at your feet. Knowledge all around you and yet knowing even less of what the world is. Reason, after all, is little more than pure cynicism with the absence of romance.

What use is knowledge, what use is wisdom, when you've lost the only thing that's driven you so far?

His hand tightens around your neck, drawing you back towards him. Mydei wraps one arm around your waist and holds you down. Body split open around his cock, the rest flayed open under his gaze.

It's less about the sex, now—

It was never about the sex, or the 'personal apothecary' excuse that Phainon kept on using, all to keep you tied to them.

"I know what haunts you," he says, his voice wrapping around you like a warm hearth after being battered by cold northern winds. "But inside here, it's just us. Me, and him. And you, if you would just stop and pay attention."

"You speak as if I don't know that," you murmur, ducking under his chin to burrow your face against his neck. That's exactly why you're not paying attention.

Mydei growls, the sound reverberating through you. "And you speak as if you're omniscient, and know what we want."

"Don't I—?" You tremble as he pushes up and into you. You're so full. "You want to— to save the world. You'll be demigods. I don't think there's a place for, for life as us three—"

Your voice breaks on a cry. He moves you up and down on his cock with an arm wrapped tight around your waist. This is Mydei, at his closest to being mean, like this. Without pausing in his smooth, ruthless motions—grinding his tip into that one spot that makes you sob, as soon as he finds it—he tangles his fingers in your hair and tugs back.

"Stop mourning us before we're gone," he pants, his own voice strained—a plea laced in it, devotion entwined with muted agony. Agony for you, he's hurting for you. How selfish can one be, to find his grief beautiful, to drink it in when it's for your sake? He—they—are the ones with everything to lose, and nothing to gain.

He presses his forehead to yours. "We're still here, for as long as you'll have us. Before the Flamechase takes everything."

You close your eyes and let yourself believe in this. That perhaps you won't lose them, not to their mission, not to the black tide, and not to the divinity that they will one day lay claim to.

That they won't claim godhood for themselves, and come out changed, perhaps a passionless husk—Professor Anaxagoras burning himself, the ashes after alchemical fire, just to elicit the barest wisp of human emotion from the Goldweaver. You told yourself that you'd never be like that, never have cause to watch a flame burn itself out while you've gone wretched with grief.

The two of you move as one, Mydei pushing into you with unforgiving thrusts. He keeps on whispering praise, more talkative than he's ever been in daily life—scattered phrases in Kremnoan, interspersed with what you could understand.

They fall with the same softness as snow during Aidonia's gentlest winters, landing on your cheeks, your ears, your shoulders. Everywhere his lips can reach.

-----

You spend the following hours with you on his lap, the knotting toy locked in his hole. He fucks himself on it with the slow, inexorable pace of one who intends to draw this out as long as possible—even if it costs both of your sanities. Of course Mydeimos the Undying has more energy than the usual omega. Even after one or two 'knots', Mydei is still energetic. It's all you could do to keep up, and even your wits leave you upon the fifth time he made you gush, split open around him. You soon begin to drift off to the feeling of your cunt milking his cock dry, head lolling against his shoulder as you're no longer able to keep your eyes open.

When you wake up, it's to the sound of a hushed voice above your head. Phainon's familiar smile greets you, brilliant as dawn—if a little worn at the edges, but only you or Mydei would have been able to tell.

The prince's breath tickles the back of your neck, soft and unhurried. His arm tightens around you as you try to move, discontent rumbling through his chest. With a look of abject resignation—one that makes Phainon snort—you snuggle back against the slumbering beauty, scowling at the man who looks far too cheerful for someone who didn't get any sleep.

"Good morning," he leans in and drops a lingering kiss to your forehead. When you don't move or push him away, Phainon brightens even further. "The two of you look like you've had a pretty good time, without me."

It is far too early for this.

"Morning," you say, grumbling against his mouth as he finally gives in to temptation and goes for your lips. He chuckles as he draws back, the tension melting from his shoulders.

You don't always look out for it.

But in the early quints past Entry Hour, your mind still half-stolen by the land of dreams, you notice more than you usually allow yourself to. His smile always has that subtle tinge of sadness, of grief—he has never been alright, never been normal, not since the day you first met him.

Loss recognizes loss, no matter how many layers of snow you've buried it in. The only reason you've ever even stuck with each other, since the day he first saw you, is because he kept persisting after he saw you at your lowest.

So you watch, through eyes softened with the haze of sleep, as Phainon unbuckles his armor and removes his coat. The scent of him, of those distant fields he would tell you about in your student days, settles around you. A warm blanket over your shoulders.

He carries his lost home with him, a ghost of it carried by the wind every time it kisses his skin.

Phainon smiles. "Which one of you wore the other out?"

Oh, you're going to end this man.

… Just as soon as you regain the ability to lift a finger.

It's going to be a long week.

You make way for the ridiculous man as he slips into the nest. He chuckles, and you roll your eyes. When he wraps an arm around Mydei and yourself, you pretend not to notice the content growl that shivers through the air.

Outside their home, Okhema's unfaltering fake sun carries on, ushering in a brand new day.

Dawn, or what passes for it in this world of wavering yet persistent light, is always to be welcomed with open arms.

A/N: Cross-posted this from my AO3 for backing up on another site. Formatting on Tumblr doesn't always agree with me, so if there are any typos or weird italics/bold, I apologize in advance. Okay, on to the more fun part:

This is my first go at writing omegaverse. I've always found the premise interesting, but it's betas in particular that hold my fascination. Where do they fit in, in a world where alphas and omegas are considered perfection, as two halves of one whole? Amphoreus's obsession with the number three was too good to pass up.

Title of this series is taken from Sleep Token's Take Me Back to Eden. Because that's my current musical fixation.

If you finished reading up to here and enjoyed it, cheers and thank you. I wanted to include Phainon in the smut, but I like to stick to a certain chapter length. There's more coming, of course. Just might take a while since I'll be busy this month and next.